by Arthur Stone
To avoid extending the delay any longer, Cheater blurted out the first nonsense that came into his mind. “She’s the party mascot.”
“The... what?” Roach furrowed his brow.
Everyone else’s brow furrowed to match it.
“What? The mascot!”
“The hell! Why is there a random woman in the party, and why is some noob leading things? March, what’s going on here?”
The boss was, of course, opening another beer—everyone had lost count by now. “Our circumstances are such that Cheater is the party leader, and this woman, as you call her, will be staying in the party. But don’t worry: She won’t be taking any of your experience.”
“Of course she won’t,” Physic grunted. “I tried to find out where she is. No marker, no pointer. Nothing.”
Roach wouldn’t give up. “What does that mean?”
A player named Clown chimed in, his first words of the night. “It means we have a player in the party who doesn’t exist, in practice. She’s very far away, or beyond black clusters. But I see no black clusters nearby. We also have a level 21 leader who is not even equipped with a decent weapon. Also, he is ravenous, exhausted, short of breath, and freshly wounded. Two-thirds of this party are level 30 or lower, and only the Janitor and Hamster are over level 35. Of course, March’s level isn’t visible, not even in the party list, and that’s something.”
“You can’t see my level, either,” the quasi protested.
“Well, I can guess it well enough. So, with this motley force, we must slip through a veritable nest of Spiders, along a road so narrow you can’t piss off it either way, and then cross the border using a route along which no one has succeeded before. That’s the situation.”
Roach frowned even more.
“Yes, it sounds like shit,” Clown allowed. “But you’re ignoring the pros.”
“Pros? What are those?”
“I am a very observant person. I see many things. I’m too lazy to explain it all to you. But here’s one: since no one has been in this region before, we can unlock Cartography. An extra hidden stat. No one should be opposed to that. And, as you said, things certainly won’t be boring. That’s a plus in my book.”
Chapter 4
Life Seven. Passing Through
Cheater hated sitting in a steel trap. Recent memories from a similar vehicle were still too fresh. He had not been riding of his own free will but had thankfully managed to leap out before the vehicle reached its destination.
Those terrible recollections mingled with abject boredom. He had doubted that feeling still existed in this world, but now he had found it. They rode through endless flat fields with no remarkable signs of civilization. The skeletons of cars and their drivers did nothing to brighten the monotony of the scene. For some reason, this road contained virtually no infecteds. When they were encountered, the cannon mounted on the truck in the lead blew them to scraps. Its front had been specifically modified for this kind of work by being shaped like a battering ram.
Talking with the others wasn’t easy thanks to the terrible pavement. Everything rattled and shook. They had been racing down the roadways like this for half an hour now. The sun would soon rise, and heat would begin adding its troubles to theirs. Much was left to be desired by the box’s ventilation holes.
Another bump struck the truck, so violent that Cheater nearly said farewell to his teeth. Silence followed. The engine was still going, and the vehicle was still moving, but compared to the cacophony prior, the soundscape had shifted from white to black. There was barely any noise.
Leaning towards one of the loopholes, Cheater saw how different things were now. Either the road had just been better maintained here, or, more likely, the car had crossed a border into a cluster with good pavement. No potholes, no ruts, no patches.
He saw another stopped car flash by. It wasn’t just abandoned—it resembled a sieve more than a sedan now. Shot to pieces. Then, it had burned. A charred, rusty sieve.
Even though they were peacefully cruising down the road, it was a stark reminder that nowhere in this world was safe.
Tat was looking too. “Cluster border, I’m thinking.”
She had to raise her voice as the noise of the vehicles grew louder. Still, he heard every word. “Seems like it.”
“So, where’d you get beat up so bad?”
“You know, somewhere on the Continent.”
“Well, pardon me. Keep your secrets if you want.”
He had no plans of telling her a story that might lead her to conclude he was carrying a sack of pure pricelessness.
Her abilities allowed her to sense that he was not riding empty-handed, of course, but not to determine the actual amount of his loot. Tat had proven herself to be a good traveling companion, but she was still no more than that: a traveling companion. Cheater did not trust her. Perhaps he should. But he had trouble getting past her shaved and tattooed appearance. Maybe he just thought it was an ugly way to adorn yourself, or maybe it seemed like she was trying to disguise herself. In any case, his subconscious mind refused to have faith. Even though Cheater was usually willing to let much more glaring characteristics slide.
A strange suspicion, or an unfair predisposition. Why did he treat her like he did? The girl had never shown herself to be untrustworthy in the least. In every situation, she had done right by him.
To change the subject, he asked her about the very thing he disliked. “Nice tattoos. Do they disappear if you respawn? Like scars?”
“Not necessarily. You can lock certain physical characteristics in your character menu. Piercings, tattoos, even scars. Then you have a chance to retain them if you die. But it’s only a chance. They can still vanish sometimes. That’s not a big worry, though. They don’t take long to redo, and any stable can do it. Even an NPC stable.”
“Convenient. Now I can finally get that nose ring!” he chuckled.
She smirked. “Perfect. A grenade pin makes a good piercing. Attached to the grenade. You never know when a grenade might come in handy here.”
“Do you have a map?”
“Map?”
“Of the area we’re driving through.”
“No. I never planned to stick my nose into the wild like this.”
“I don’t understand this pass everyone keeps mentioning.”
“The Steppe Pass?”
“Yeah, that. I haven’t seen a single mountain, not even a hill. It’s all flat as a frying pan.”
“No mountains around here. It’s a steppe, you see. Sometimes you’ll see a burial mound. Or maybe a mountain at the edge, thanks to how clusters work. But otherwise, all flat.”
Cheater frowned. “Then how is there a pass?”
“Oh, they just call it that. It’s a bottleneck. Like a mountain pass, the kind with a ridge or a chasm on either side and only one way through.”
“So where are the ridges and chasms?”
“Nowhere. But beyond the narrow forests lining this road lies nothing but long stretches of black. To the north and to the south both. They say it sometimes touches the very road, but either we haven’t reached those parts yet or we’re looking out the wrong side. Further east, the black clusters give us more space, and that’s the Spiders’ Pouch. It’s like a valley, with black and gray clusters on all sides. Several good quick clusters within provide the Spiders with endless ammunition. Others loot the gray clusters and make a living that way. It’s not the richest place, but it’s actually a good deal safer than many such areas. Or at least it was. Now caravans go there to disappear.”
“I’ve been in a black cluster, but I’ve only heard rumors about the gray ones. What are they? Have you been to one?”
“I haven’t seen them in a long time. They are almost never alone, running along and through stretches of black clusters. Sometimes there are gray spots even in the black clusters, as if they haven’t had time to blacken fully yet. I try to stay away from such places.”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“We’re not sticking around. We need to move past quickly, and without entering a black or gray cluster.”
Cheater frowned. “I still have no idea what a gray cluster is.”
“Let me try to explain. You’ve seen black clusters before, right? Imagine a cluster like that, but the blackness is not complete yet. Only some spots are black. From those spots gray tendrils reach through the rest of the cluster. Strips of gray. They are prone to twisting, entangling, growing together. The landscape is like a desert. Some grass grows, of course. Everything is sickly and withered, but not completely dead. And everything looks very odd. The world is gray, with spots of green and black alike. Infecteds hate gray clusters. You can run into them there, but not very often.”
“Is that why March decided to cut through a gray cluster?”
Tat blinked. “Cut through? Where’d you hear that?”
“He’s supposed to pick the safest route for us, and you just said the gray clusters are safer.”
“Safer! I didn’t say that!”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I said there is a lower chance of running into infecteds there. But that does not mean gray clusters are any better than normal clusters. Have you heard of the gray spirits?”
“Only once, when March was speaking to us all. I didn’t know what he meant.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t have had the chance to hear anywhere else. Players are usually superstitious and avoid naming things they are afraid of.”
“So what are these ‘spirits’? Can you tell me that much, or are you superstitious yourself?”
“What do you think? They are gray beasts that live in gray clusters. Perhaps they live in black clusters, too. No one knows for sure. You can run into them in black clusters, but they are more common in gray ones. Very unpleasant creatures. Infecteds aren’t the worst things in the world, you know. Thankfully, the spirits never wander far from the gray and black clusters. Yet they are one of the reasons that the borders are so dangerous. The System also drops clusters with nuclear events in border regions, too. They reset quickly, but if they are around for long enough, the radiation can spread to neighboring regions too. Newly arriving NPCs, if they get a high dose of radiation, can mutate into special irradiated infecteds. Much stronger and smarter than normal infecteds—and with more interesting loot to drop. But there is another kind of mutation that can occur. In this case, an NPC’s mind is partially preserved, but it still becomes wildly aggressive. This is, of course, extremely dangerous. It means they know how to use weapons of all kinds. Even very sophisticated weapons. Thankfully, they stay close to their radioactive clusters. So border regions are places where you can encounter every threat the Continent has to offer, all on a single day. Nasty places.”
“So why are you going there?”
“I’m following March. I had to go somewhere, after all, when I decided to leave. He’s an alcoholic, but an interesting one. And mysterious. He knows something that others don’t. The rumors say he’s crossed between regions many times. So if he has succeeded before, more than once, what’s to say he won’t do it again?”
“Your logic’s full of holes. And you’re basing it on rumors?”
“Do you know his abilities?”
“So do you. He’s a sensor, just with some unique twists. A complicated ability.”
“Really? You think that’s all? What about his other abilities?”
“I’m not sure about those. I think he has some sort of stealth or disguise ability. He’s reached me before in impossible places, walking right under the noses of high-level infecteds and players. I didn’t know he was around until he was right next to me. That’s happened twice so far. Perhaps his ability has a long cooldown, though. I remember having to run hard from a horde of smaller infecteds with him.”
“He’s sounding better and better. But I suspect he has four abilities, actually. Three of them, he hides.”
“Sure. No one likes to show their trump cards unless they have to.”
“I believe he has many trump cards. Plus, it’s not much of a risk. One life gone, maybe two. OK, or three. But I doubt I’ll lose any more. And if we cross, it’ll be more than worth it.”
“What?” Cheater’s eyes widened. “Will the party wait for respawned members to rejoin?”
“Huh?”
“You just said you were willing to lose two or three lives on this mission. But one loss of life will send you to respawn. If we die, we’ll never reach the border.”
Tat burst out laughing. “Are you being serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking? Did I say something wrong?”
“Everything. Aren’t you the one who reads every scrap of information you can find on the Continent? Where do the stupid ideas come from?”
“So help me out. Explain the world to this sorry idiot before you.”
“Did you see Button?”
“The slim brunette with the boyish haircut?”
“Yeah. Did you notice her weapon?”
“An automatic rifle.”
“And how was she holding it? Not like a weapon, but like a rattlesnake.”
“What are you getting at?”
“She’s no fighter. Never has been.”
“What could that possibly have to do with—”
Claw leaned down from his place in the machine gun turret. He was shaking slightly. “Trouble.”
Chapter 5
Life Seven. Spider on the Road
The truck slowed down, turned towards the shoulder, and stopped, nearly perpendicular across the road. That let Cheater see what was up ahead through the nearest loophole.
It looked like a bandit ambush. But it could simply be a mobile outpost. The line between the first and second is extremely thin, and one could change into the other at a moment’s notice. Yet since no one had started shooting, it was probably the latter.
The blockade was a huge garbage truck sheathed in steel and rows of gun loopholes. There was no room to pass on the left, as immediately off the road stood the burnt-out husk of a tractor trailer, and beyond that, a wall of clay rose sharply. Passing on the right was physically possible. But the gap was only thirty yards across, and the far-right side of it was bracketed by a pickup truck with a heavy machine gun, parked at the ready in a field of wild oats. Cheater doubted the gunner would just watch as unknown vehicles careened past.
This setup was too open—and still too quiet—to be a bandit ambush. Plus, March’s squad was significantly stronger in terms of firepower, and probably in raw numbers, as well. Blocking the only highway with merely two vehicles in hopes of ambushing a crossing party sounded like a foolish idea.
There was one more possibility. They could be hopelessly naive, or courageous to the point of insanity. Then he saw the markings, common in these parts of the world: the Spiders.
Genuine markings, of course. Who would dare fake them? A joke like that would send you right to the blacklist. This party was made up almost exclusively of players looking to cross to escape the Spiders. Many were willing to take extreme risks just to avoid the steppes they ruled so ruthlessly.
So this blockade was unlikely to be meant specifically for them. Too ineffective for an ambush, too small for an open conflict, and too calm to evidence immediate malicious intent. Perhaps the convoy of vehicles had surprised them, and now they had no idea what to do.
It took Cheater a few moments to see the blinking party chat icon. Opening it revealed a message from March. Everybody stay calm. No sudden moves. They’re not here for us.
Roach, of course, protested. They what do they want?!?
No one replied, not even March.
How could he know, anyway?
A hatch opened on the top of the garbage truck, and a broad-shouldered man with a dissatisfied look to him half leaned out of it, waved demandingly, and shouted something. Cheater was unable to hear anything. Even idle, the engine was quite loud, and the tarp covering the truck body dampened consonants s
everely.
The chat came alive again, and still Roach had no answer.
They’re asking to speak to the leader. Janitor, you’re up. You’re our biggest star. Maybe they’ll recognize you and accept you as our leader, no questions asked. Tell them we’re an honest bunch. Maybe something about how we want to try our luck in the gray clusters. Nodium is in high demand these days, and everyone knows about this place, so that should work. And your ugly mug doesn’t blush when you lie.
The quasi made no response. He jumped out of the truck with the cannon, and casually waddled towards the garbage truck, swinging his heavy machine gun with that familiar ease, as if it were a revolver.
Once he reached the cab of the garbage truck, he lowered the barrel. The door opened, and a small head protected by an army helmet poked out. Apparently, a conversation ensued, but Cheater could not be sure, as he couldn’t hear a word and couldn’t see their faces from his angle.
After a couple of minutes, the chat blinked, and the Janitor clarified.
They’re not here for us. They say the atomites have started migrating this way, for unknown reasons. A couple of atomite groups were noticed near the stable. Now the bloodsuckers are worried and have set up a few mobile outposts. No other way past. I think they’re lying, since no one would shut off the roads to a whole cluster group just because of a couple of freaks. They’re here to make money. But they say they’re under orders not to let anyone pass. For us, they’ll make an exception. For a small price.
Roach reacted in the vulgar and obtuse way everyone expected.
March simply asked, How much?
Twenty-five green per car.
Seventy-five just to pass! Roach heaped more curses into the chat.
Quit flooding the chat, March replied, then addressed the Janitor. Tell them we’re in a rough patch. Our last meal was salt since we’re out of bread, our last sips of clean water are fading into our distant memory, that sort of thing. Cheater agreed with March’s tactics.
