Kaiju- Battlefield Surgeon

by Matt Dinniman

  I’m so hungry, Banksy said. Daddy, I don’t want to die again. It hurts. It hurts so much. I’m scared.

  “You and me both, kid,” I said.

  A few minutes later, I hauled myself to my feet and spent some more time exploring. There were three doors in the room. One was the main door to the outside. Anatoly had warned I’d die immediately if I went out there. The next was what I presumed to be the bathroom. When I opened it, it turned out to be a closet filled with clothes, armor, and weapons. When I tried to touch one suit of blue, shimmering armor, my hands moved through it like it wasn’t there. I received a message.

  You may not loot owned items in this base.

  I spent some time examining the weapons. This was an odd game with a strange array of weapons. There were two standard, one-handed longswords that one would find in any type of sword and sorcery game. One of the swords glowed blue, indicating, I assumed, it was enchanted. A crossbow that appeared to be made of bones hung from a hook on the wall. A spear leaned up against it.

  But there were also more modern weapons. A Winchester-like rifle sat next to what resembled an unloaded RPG. And piled up next to those were seven or eight retro-futuristic hand blasters. These were silver and red pistol-like weapons that appeared they’d be home in any space shooter game. Multiple other odds and ends filled the cluttered closet. Quivers, ammo packets, soda can-like devices that looked like they might be grenades and so forth. The system wouldn’t even tell me what they were. I couldn’t pick up or wield any of them.

  The weapons made me think of my inventory, and I wondered how it worked. All games like this dealt with inventory in different ways. In some games, your personal inventory was limited to what you could actually carry. It was realistic, but also a pain. In others, there was an inventory menu, and you had to pull it up, and the item magically appeared in your hand. A third option was the bigger-on-the-inside storage pack.

  This game utilized a hybrid of the second and third options. I had a small pack looped over my shoulder, no bigger than a fanny pack. I hadn’t even noticed it until I thought about it and reached over. I had to stick my hand in the pack, and a list popped up. I could select one of the items, and it would appear in my hand. I tried it out with a couple oranges and apples. It also listed my current teeth count, which was a big, fat zero. I wasn’t sure what the true capacity of the pack was, but it appeared to be based on total mass, not the number of items.

  I closed the door and moved to the third room. This was a large, sliding door next to the bed. In the real world, Anatoly had indicated he had a server room hidden somewhere past his bedroom, though I hadn’t seen a door. I grasped the door and tried to slide it open and received a message.

  You do not have access to this area.

  I sighed. I’d explored the entire apartment, base, whatever this was, and there wasn’t much here. I couldn’t even move the furniture around. I could only pick up and use smaller objects like the pillows and the sheets on the bed. If I placed my hand on the very top of any item, from the couch to a glass sitting on the counter by the sink, I could pop up a menu similar to the one on the food boxes, but I couldn’t interact with the menu at all.

  All that left me with was the door to outside. The edges and cracks of the large, wooden door were stained red with blood. I placed my hand against the wood. It was warm, and it pulsated with a slow, rhythmic boom. Bast’s heartbeat.

  Outside.

  Well, not outside. The ground lurched, reminding me where I really was. I pictured the beast. A six-legged lion with tentacles erupting from its back. Anatoly had said we were in the bowels. So if I left, would I be able to get myself outside? And if I got outside, would I somehow be able to get back to town?

  Probably not. But what if I could get to town? It was relatively safe there. Maybe in town I’d be able to level up a few times, get more strength and endurance. If I could level up, get some gear, maybe figure out a way to get myself to a place where I could power my way to a level that was suitable for this area…

  Then what? I could surpass Anatoly in power here in the game, but what difference did it make? He had me trapped in a damn prison pod. He had access to Mary and Ruth.

  Daddy, it hurts.

  Banksy has died.

  I felt a quick surge as I absorbed his soul power.

  That was quick, quicker than I thought it would be. It had been what? Two hours since he’d last died? He starved to death quickly.

  Banksy, level 1 Gut Hook has regenerated.

  Daddy, what happened? I think I died, but it didn’t hurt as much as when you die. I’m not hungry anymore.

  “You did die,” I said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to feed you.”

  What are we going to do?

  “Can you leave my body?” I asked. “Like, is there a way for you to, uh, crawl out of me so I can feed you?”

  I can come out of you, Banksy said. But I am very small, and I can’t leave until I am level 5. You’ll have to kill something for me and feed it to me.

  “Uh, where do you come out?” I asked. “Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

  Damnit. I was supposed to just let the familiar starve to death every few hours. If I didn’t, I would be the one who ended up dying. I couldn’t feed it. If I ate anything, I would immediately die. And I had to get the food to my stomach to feed my worm.

  Still, if I just left things as they were, neither of us would ever level up. I wasn’t sure if my situation was truly hopeless or not, but getting more powerful seemed like the best and only chance I had.

  I eyed the cabinet with the food boxes. “Can you eat human food? Or fae food?”

  I can only eat flesh. Flesh killed by either you or me.

  “So no fruit or vegetables? If I give you an orange from the food box, would that at least keep you alive?” I didn’t know where I was going with this. I couldn’t eat the food, and the idea of shoving an apple up my own zombie ass to feed my tapeworm was just… I didn’t want to go there. But there had to be some way to do it.

  No, daddy. I only eat what I kill, what you kill, or you. It has to be flesh. I can sometimes eat other stuff, but it has to be meat. I won’t grow if you or I didn’t kill it. Daddy, I lied when I said I was full. I can feel myself getting hungry again.

  Shit. Maybe if I leveled up a few times, I’d find a better way or get a new skill. I placed my hand on the door to the outside.

  I pulled it open.

  Chapter 7

  The door opened slowly, hesitantly. Despite its solid appearance, it had a flimsy, non-rigid quality to it, like I was peeling wet cardboard off a wall. A shower of slime and gore dripped from the jam as the door slurped open. A blast of heat crashed into me.

  I stared into dripping, humid darkness. A high-ribbed ceiling throbbed, barely lit by the room behind me. Flowing, splashing rapids of sewage rushed past about four feet below. The river rushed up at me suddenly, as if the room was falling. I clutched onto the entranceway as the world lurched, moving separately from the exit, causing the dark liquid to splash through the entry and onto my feet.

  I realized Anatoly’s apartment was on some sort of gyro, so that it stayed relatively level as the beast moved around. It was like looking through the door of a washing machine. Even though Anatoly’s base lurched and lunged like the deck of a ship, the interior of the beast was much more chaotic. What I took as the creature simply walking around now appeared as if it was running or fighting something, only stopping to roar.

  Shit. How could I move through this? I’d be pulverized in seconds if I went out there. Plus, I needed light. I looked back dubiously at the fireplace. I might be able to fashion some sort of torch, but it would probably get wet with the gore and monster shit flowing through the bowels. And what could I use as the torch itself?

  A creature the size of a city bus scuttled down the river, rushing past. I stood there at the exit, open-mouthed. The millipede-like creature boasted legs around its entire circumference, lik
e a barrel cactus, and it made a hissing noise. I stared after it, my heart pounding. It just kept coming and coming. It disappeared into the darkness. A message popped up as I stared.

  Activate Frame Vision?

  What the hell is that? I clicked yes.

  The world transformed from darkness to a green-tinted monochrome. I could now see in both directions along the curving bowels. Similar to night vision, but I could also see through the rushing liquid below, like everything was reduced to a wire diagram. Small, crab-like creatures scuttled about in the sewage. I could see the skeletal outlines of the crabs.

  A new message popped up, asking me if I wanted to use auto-frame vision, so that it would turn on automatically when I was in low light. I clicked yes. I spent a few moments searching the menus for a description of the x-ray skill, and I found it in a menu under race traits and skills. It had a few things listed there I wasn’t aware of:

  Race Traits and Skills:

  Soul Siphon

  Life Tap

  Frame Vision

  Famine

  Breathless

  Additional skills may be unlocked at higher levels.

  This was yet another menu different from spells. Soul Siphon was my ability to recharge my soul points from the recently-deceased, and Life Tap was the debuff that made my life gradually tick away. Famine was also a debuff, which I’d already learned about the hard way. Any food I ate immediately turned to poison.

  Breathless seemed to imply that I could breathe underwater and that I was immune to toxic gas and certain types of suffocation.

  The description for Frame Vision was interesting:

  The interstices of life become visible to you, allowing vision where there is no light. Only active during deep dive surgery and exploration.

  I assumed “deep dive” meant being inside of the kaiju. This was an extremely useful skill, though I still wasn’t sure it was a suitable trade-off for my life constantly ticking away.

  The world outside the door continued to twist and slosh, though it seemed the kaiju—Bast—was settling down. I wondered if it had a regular sleep schedule. If so, I’d have to time my explorations around that.

  I eyed the mini crab things again, crawling about in the river. I wondered if I would get experience if I killed them. Each was about the size of my fist, and there were hundreds of them. They seemed to cling directly to the flesh of the bowel, undisturbed by Bast’s movements. Upon closer examination the crabs appeared to be small bird skulls with crab legs and pincers.

  I didn’t have a weapon. If I jumped down there, I’d only be able to pull myself back up if Bast wasn’t bouncing around too much. Still, I needed to figure out if this was a doable plan.

  I held my breath, and I jumped into the brown river.

  Entering Bast. Lower Intestine.

  I splashed down, knee-deep in the fetid water. It had the consistency of a thick, warm stew, and multiple chunks flowed past, banging into my legs, threatening to toss me face-first into the muck. Above, the doorway bobbed up and down like a beacon, a yawning mouth of safety. From this angle I could see the apartment was a large, round polyp on the side of the intestine, taking up barely a third of the circumference of the tunnel.

  At my feet, the crabs seemed to sense my presence and scattered away. Their outlines walked sideways, like normal crabs. In the distance, something roared.

  Multiple waypoints popped up in my vision. Each waypoint was a purple, blinking cross. Most of the crosses appeared to be moving. I focused on one of them, and more information popped up:

  Level 10 Parasite Infestation

  112 Meters Away – Sartorius Muscle

  Warning: Your Antiparasitic talent is not adequate for this level of infestation.

  Warning: Guardian Bast is in dire health.

  I dismissed the warnings for now. I found Windows VR actions worked in the game. If I flicked to the top right of my vision and did the proper head tilt, I could cycle through multiple views. I fiddled with the settings so now the waypoints would only appear if the targets were less than 100 meters away. If I managed to level up enough maybe I could try some low-level healing, but I wasn’t ready for that. For now all the moving purple waypoints were a distraction.

  “Okay you little fuckers,” I said. I eyed a single critter, smaller than the others, scuttling along sluggishly. I stomped. The ground had a spongey, uneven feeling to it, like I was stepping on an old mattress, but I still felt a satisfying crunch. I felt the now-familiar whoosh as I siphoned away a small amount of soul power.

  Experience earned!

  Yes!

  I glanced at my experience and figured it’d take three more dead crabs to level up. I turned, searching for more beasties to smash.

  “Ahh, shit,” I barely had time to say as the wave of crabs, hundreds of them, reached my ankles, biting and stabbing and slicing as they swept over me, pulling me down into the river. I was down before I could taste the river of kaiju shit fill my lungs.

  ***

  You have died four times.

  I gasped as I awakened, once again, on the floor. I clenched my eyes closed. This is too much. This is too much.

  I pulled myself into a ball, and I didn’t move for a long, long time.

  Chapter 8

  I died three more times over the next two days. You would think I’d get used to it, that the constant deaths would build up a tolerance to the pain. The opposite was true. The two minutes and twenty seconds of hellfire after each death was a longer and longer ordeal each time. It made me make mistakes. Each time I died, I lost half of my experience to the next level. I managed to kill two crabs this last time before they overwhelmed me, leaving me at a point where I just needed to kill two more to get to level two.

  Bast’s movements were irregular, however, and sometimes I’d open the door to find the outside (inside?) world in turmoil. One time the kaiju rolled over, and the entire world outside the room spun, leaving the door facing the wall of the intestine for a few moments.

  Still, I suspected, Bast did have a regular schedule. What seemed irregular and random was a cycle that would repeat. I observed, noting his movements using the virtual scratchpad in my memory. Eventually I found it. He’d move around for two hours, culminating in some sort of tussle where he completely rolled over a few times. Then he’d sleep for two hours, leaving the world outside the base relatively calm. It was during this time that I was able to go outside.

  The giant, train-like parasites that moved about Bast were not on any sort of regular schedule that I could see. Fortunately, I had my surgery warnings set so a waypoint popped up when a major infestation appeared within 100 meters of me. As a result, I had a few seconds of warning before one rushed by. The second time I had died out here, I’d been too slow to scramble back into the base as one came rocketing down the intestine. It had paused before me, its massive, round mouth sucking me in like a piece of spaghetti. When I’d regenerated two and half minutes later, it remained right outside the door, still crunching on my dead body.

  The crabs were like any other neutral mob in a game. They left me alone unless I attacked or hurt one, and then they swarmed over me in seconds. They were probably nothing more than a minor nuisance to high-level players. I needed to come up with an alternative plan.

  I needed a weapon, preferably a gun. Sniping them from the doorway would probably work if I found something that penetrated liquid.

  But none of the weapons in Anatoly’s closet were lootable. So that plan was useless.

  My next best option would be to try to explore Bast, maybe find something else I could kill. Or better yet find a way out of the monster all together and somehow make my way back to Medina. I was sure if I could get back there I’d be able to level much more easily.

  Banksy died just about every two to four hours. It wasn’t consistent. He’d die, and I’d use the soul power to cast Reconstitute on myself. The worm didn’t talk so much anymore, though he did sometimes make a comment as he died. He�
��d make a sound like a sob in my mind, ask me for food, and then he would shudder and die.

  I didn’t have a clock, but I did have the 24-hour countdown in the channel menu for the tv display.

  Ruth’s screen was just static with an “out of range” notification that second day. I knew she was supposed to be on an airplane right around then, so I assumed that was the issue.

  Mary’s feed was pure heartbreak.

  Anatoly had sent her a text, pretending it was me. Fucking hell. I wasn’t sure exactly what it’d said, but it was something along the lines of “I know you’ve been cheating on me. I’m leaving, and I’m never coming back. Don’t try to find me. Fuck you.”

  I watched as she dialed my phone over and over, each time getting a message saying the mailbox was full. She would alternate this with call after call to my address book as I listened and watched. She was at the point where she was calling people I went to high school with, those I hadn’t talked to in decades. I felt goddamned helpless at her panic.

  I listened to her talk to her mother. She’d called the police earlier, but they wouldn’t do anything, not yet.

  His fucking daughter is supposed to move in with us today, and I just can’t take it. I don’t know what to do, she’d said.

  She’d logged into my phone account and used the tracking option, but it had been turned off the day before I even visited Anatoly. He’d gotten into my account, erasing all evidence we ever talked. After he sent that last text, he’d nuked the phone.

  I am going to kill you. I am going to tear you to shreds.

  The next day was worse.

  Each day I watched for an hour and then had to wait 24 hours before I could watch again, meaning each day I started watching an hour later than the day before. It was early evening on this third day when I was finally able to log back into the video system.

  I sat on the floor constructing the cage as I watched my daughter, Ruth, rush from the house, screaming, dragging her duffel bag. I’d missed whatever set her off. She’d been fighting with Mary. Those two had never gotten along. I’d been worried about how they’d react to each other when I was home and a buffer between the two. With me gone, with their stress levels maxed out, a blowout was inevitable. Ruth wasn’t Mary’s daughter. Mary hadn’t wanted her to move in at all. She’d only agreed because I’d begged, promising it’d be temporary until Ruth found a job.