Blood Seekers
Book 1 — The Monolith
Stephen Roark
Contents
1. Complete and Utter Betrayal
2. You Will Die!
3. No Hand-Holding
4. The Princess and the Mortician
5. Meat Sack
6. The Bullet and the Blade
7. The Weeping Hills
8. Only the Top Gunslingers
9. Just A Bit of Humility
10. The Madness and the Monolith
11. Too Close to Home
12. Red Eyes of the Bloodless
13. The World Renowned Alastor Cook
14. The Order of the Raven
15. An Introduction to Beast Slaying
16. Sluck and the Pale Man
17. The Smithy
18. The Cart and the Mule
19. Getting a Foothold
20. No Time for Loot Hunting
21. The Cragstone “Plains”
22. A Price Paid with Blood
23. Follow the Red Woman
24. A Curse and a Blessing
25. Old Bones Weigh Heavy
26. The Swamp of Sacrifices
27. Sick, Sick, Sick!
28. The Gang’s All Here
29. The Swollen Cemetery
30. Piles and Piles of Meat
31. A Grim Gentleman, but a Gentleman None The Less
32. Show ‘Em What We’re Made Of!
33. More Than a Little Bone Waving
34. Electric Dreams
35. To Reach Without Hands
36. Bone Soup is Good for the Soul
37. The Opposite of Complete and Utter Betrayal
38. Dark Wizards of the Past
39. To Seek the Awakening
40. The Town of Ebonmire
41. Schweedle, Schweedle!
42. The Cutpurse and the Ruins of Londorin
43. A Cunnin’ New Hat
44. The Woman at the Base of the Mountain
45. The Thief’s Next Surprise
46. The Cable Car
47. Back to the Barracks
48. Recovery
49. Rainbow Eyes That Warm and Chill
50. Two Old Friends
51. Hacking Away at Bog Trolls
52. The City of Eternal Flame
53. The White Snake and the Bridge Guardian
54. We’re All Just Lost Children
55. The Headless Wet Nurse of Quelan
56. The Consumed
57. The Cannibals of Quelan
58. The Mouth of the City
59. Blackness and Brambles, Shadows and Doubt
60. The Spider and Answers—Sort Of…
61. The Father Revealed
1
Complete and Utter Betrayal
“South Farron Academy is an independent college preparatory school whose structured program establishes clear standards and high expectations and fosters an environment that emphasizes mutual respect, integrity and strong moral character in all its students.”
—from the South Farron Academy Mission Statement
Of course it had to be pouring buckets of cold rain from the sky the day that Colin, Jordan and Brad decided to stop being my friends.
The “cool” seniors hated me, and as a result, also hated them. So of course they had to turn on me so the “cool” seniors would like them and forego their daily torture rituals. When I say “friends,” I’m using the term loosely. They were more like a few guys with somewhat similar interests who barely tolerated me until the day they figured it just wasn’t worth it anymore.
I came into the lunchroom as I always did and headed over to our usual table, the one with peeling brown banding and chipped faux-wood laminate, and waited. I could feel the eyes of the Fleecers, the popular hot girls who always wore fleece sweaters, on me and heard their catty whispers.
I saw Mr. Brown, the old, decrepit, dog of an English teacher who should have retired years ago. He was glaring at me with utter contempt and not even trying to hide it. And what for? Because I talked in class? Because I had actual thoughts of my own and didn’t just regurgitate back to him whatever he’d told us the day before?
The hockey squad weren’t paying attention to me thankfully, although Matt Bordy did notice me sitting all alone, pointing and laughing with that cocky grin that would forever remind me of my place in the social hierarchy of South Farron Academy. I breathed an enormous sigh of relief when my friends finally entered the cafeteria, but when I saw what happened next, reality seemed to cease to exist.
J.D., the captain of the hockey team, got up from his chair, strode right over to them, smiled, and high-fived them all in order. I felt my jaw fight to fall off.
Colin nodded proudly as he received his dap. Jordan grinned uncomfortably, his eyes flickering to mine and back again, and Brad began laughing like some sort of circus clown high on mushrooms. It was like watching a pack of gazelle become best friends with the most fearsome lion on the plains.
I could only stare as I sat alone at my table that would easily sit six as every eye in the room found its way to me. The Fleecers, the hockey team, the lacrosse kids, the drama kids—even the teachers saw what was happening. At least, that’s how it felt to me. It was like someone had dimmed the lights and hit me with a spotlight and hung a neon sign behind me that read “Loser!”
They could barely even look at me.
Bunch of cowards, I thought miserably as I slouched in my wobbly, plastic blue chair and pulled my hood up over my head. The windows behind me were always drafty, but the cold autumn air seemed to be pouring in with a nasty vigor, intent on turning my neck to ice.
It was like something out of a bad dream as I watched them walk up to the food line, backs to me, pretending I didn’t even exist, all the while chatting with J.D., a guy who up until recently, we’d all despised for the way he carried himself and the countless beatings we’d all received from him and his goons. I guess my “friends” had finally gotten tired of the fight and given up and defected over to the other side.
South Farron was an upper middle class town north of Hartford, Connecticut filled with manors, mansions, and lush green lawns with perfectly symmetrical cutting lines that ran parallel with their stone driveways, while I had to be bussed in from the Barracks, a dirt poor town on the outskirts of the city, a hasty prefab clusterfuck, with more than half its inhabitants on the dole. My aptitude tests had gotten me here, but I’d spent every day since I arrived three years ago wishing they hadn’t. I was like a broken-down Vespa in a fleet of exotic sports cars; I just didn’t fit in, and they all hated me for it.
It had all started on the second day of my freshman year. South Farron had an absurd and antiquated rule that only seniors were allowed to sit on the library steps. But I was never one for blindly following tradition, and had taken a seat while I sipped my fancy soda I’d picked up from the vending machine.
“Hey, dickhead,” J.D. had growled, kicking my ankle with his white tennis shoe. “Didn’t anyone tell you the rules?”
There was nothing but arrogance and contempt in his eyes when I looked up at him.
Entitled little brat, I remember thinking. As far as he was concerned, he was the heir apparent to the throne of South Farron, and was used to always getting what he wanted from people. So, I decided not to give it to him.
“I may have heard something about that,” I sneered back, taking an obnoxious sip of my drink. I thought his eyes were going to burst out of his head.
“Yeah? So, are you gonna move or not?”
“Probably not,” I replied.
He slapped my drink out of my hand, and I was on my feet in an instant, staring straight into his cocky eyes. I saw him falter. He talked a big game, but that’s all he was
—talk. Pretty boys like him never wanted to get their hands dirty, despite what you see in the movies. They always get Daddy to do their dirty work for them. And J.D. did just that.
He glared at me and snarled. “Whatever. You’re just a loser from the Barracks who will never amount to anything.”
He spat on the ground and walked away, but within twenty-four-hours, the entire staff was against me. Any kid who was considered “cool” instantly shunned me, and before the week was out, it was well known that being my friend was social suicide. The only reason I’d managed to gain the few I had was that they were new this year and the hatred against me had somewhat died down.
My stomach was growling. My bus had been late on account of an accident due to the rain, but I wasn’t about to sit there and suffer while my friends laughed and joked with their new buddy. Grabbing my backpack from the floor beside me, I got to my feet and walked out of the room as fast as I could without making any more of a scene than they’d already made for me.
I pulled my phone from my pocket, quickly opened the Ultra App and ordered a driver. My mom’s credit card was still on file, so I put in a rush order and hit confirm. There were still two and a half hours left in the school day, but there was no way I was sticking around.
The raindrops were the size of pistachios as I stepped out the front double doors and stomped through the inch or so of water that had accumulated on the soaked stone slabs leading up to the school. The downpour was hitting the street so hard a mist had appeared from the splash back. Under normal circumstances I would have already been shivering from the icy water beginning to soak through the thin cotton of my sweatshirt, but my mind was elsewhere.
I could have walked and walked and never looked back—never returned to that wretched school for as long as I lived. The cackling faces of my once-friends were imprinted in my mind like a stamp slapped into juicy, wet concrete. I balled my fists at my side as I marched across the front lawn towards the road.
A set of amber high-beams cut through the deluge and I looked up to see a rickety antique car from the early 2000s beating its way towards me. Pulling my hood farther down over my face, I waved to the driver. He didn’t even bother slowing as he pulled up, and I had to leap back to avoid the spray kicked up by his tires as they carved through the thick puddles that embraced the curb. Without hesitation, I yanked open the back door and slid inside.
“Are you my fare?” he asked. His accent wasn’t from around here. It wasn’t even American. British, probably.
“No,” I replied sarcastically. “I’m here to steal your ride. Get out and leave the keys or I’ll have to blast you.”
A flat smirk on my face, I held my fingers like a gun beneath my hoodie and took aim at him. He was probably somewhere in his 30s, with short brown hair and a red tracksuit top. After a moment, he smiled.
“Better watch yourself with that mouth of yours, mate. Might get you into trouble.”
“Oh, I don’t have to try to get into trouble,” I scoffed. “Trouble finds me.”
I glanced back at the school as the doors opened to reveal Mr. Brown. He was waving furiously in my direction. I could read his lips. “Mr. Thomas! Get back here now!” But it was too late. My driver put the old car into gear and the old engine sputtered and coughed as we pulled away from the accursed place.
The roar of the rain only got louder as the car picked up speed, and by the time we reached the highway, the sound was almost deafening. I was thankful, though, as it meant I didn’t have to try and make awkward conversation with the driver for the forty-five-minute ride home. Instead, I pulled out my phone and texted Rey.
Me: You still at school?
A few moments later.
Rey: Duh. Aren’t you?
Me: No. Bailed. Like my friends…
She didn’t reply instantly, and for a second, I felt embarrassed—like maybe I shouldn’t be complaining about my problems to her—but then she wrote me back and I quickly forgot all about my insecurities.
Rey: God, what happened?
Me: Betrayal. Complete and utter betrayal.
Rey: I’ll kill them! Talk later? I’ll be home in an hour or so.
Me: Okay.
I went to put my phone back in my pocket when another text came through.
Rey: Don’t forget. Blood Seekers tonight!
A momentary surge of happiness flowed through me. I instantly perked up.
Me: Shit! I forgot! I’m gonna go install.
Rey: You better wait for me!
Me: You better hurry up!
Rey’s response was simple: a growly face emoji I’d come to learn was her way of warning me that she was going to be less than happy if I didn’t listen to her. I sent a smiley face back to let her know she didn’t have to worry.
Rey and I understood each other well, even after not seeing each other in person for four years. We’d been best friends before she moved away when I was twelve. Her had family lived three units over and we grew up together, getting up to all the normal hijinks that kids do. But her dad took a job in Seattle—something related to medical equipment or something—and the only way we were able to do anything together anymore was through online gaming.
Everyone always joked that we were boyfriend and girlfriend, but it just wasn’t like that. Maybe we’d just been too young, or maybe it just wasn’t what we were destined for. Either way, it never happened. I wasn’t sure whether that upset me or not.
I sat in silence the rest of the way home, staring out the window—or at least trying to. The rain was whipping down in sheets that slashed across the glass, making it almost impossible to see. The world was like a bokeh blur, that out of focus effect you see in movies. I tried my best not to think of Colin and Jordan and Brad’s faces, but they seemed to invade my thoughts no matter what I tried.
I need to get home and login, I thought as the driver exited the highway. Online gaming was the only place I really felt alive, which was ironic as it was purely artificial. Sure, I was good in school, smart and capable, but my life was like a long swath of grey paint on the side of an old warehouse wall. Nothing remarkable. Nothing you’d ever take note of. Just one long bland stream of nothing.
But online, I could be anyone—do anything. Rey and I had raided dungeons, crested mountains, vanquished bosses and bested other players in countless games together. And today was the launch of Blood Seekers, one of the most anticipated games in history. It would be the perfect thing to take my mind off my friends’ betrayal.
“Thanks for the lift, Jeevesy,” I said as I nudged open the door and stepped outside.
“The world isn’t that bad, kid,” he replied in a not quite condescending tone. He must have picked up on my mood during the drive.
“You’re right,” I told him. “It’s worse.” And I shut the door.
2
You Will Die!
“No, I’m not concerned about that. I am not concerned with making games that players have seen before. There are many companies doing that, and I wish them the best. What I am concerned with is creating something bold, challenging, satisfying and different, that challenges the player and expands their expectations.
—from a 2132 MMO Addict interview with Kotaro Mizaguchi
That may have been a bit melodramatic, I thought as I gazed out at the Barracks, the rows and rows of identical prefab “houses” commissioned by the government after the 2112 meltdown of the Mark VII reactor down in Bloomville, NY. It had been advertised as “safe nuclear,” and for a while it lived up to his reputation. Then Cassandra hit.
The most terrifying hurricane we’ve seen in years!
That’s how it was advertised on the news. It tore through the coast like an electric egg beater, flooding half of Manhattan and causing devastation all across New England. It rained for weeks and the Mark VII just couldn’t handle the biblical style flood—catastrophe struck.
The fallout covered most of New York City and the surrounding areas, resulting in the largest disp
laced population to ever exist. The government scrambled for solutions, setting up tent cities in Vermont and New Hampshire, housing vouchers for people lucky enough to get them (AKA the rich and well connected), project housing buildings hastily built all around the outskirts of Boston, and then prefab units stacked together like you might stack boxes in a warehouse, like the ones making up the Barracks.
They were sort of like shipping container units, but printed at government facilities without lines or seams, so in a way, they almost looked organic—like a blob of polymers and plastics of blues, reds and yellows had grown up from the ground organically, like clusters of mold or fatty tumors that wouldn’t respond to any known treatment.
Ladder-like staircases hung off the backs of some homes, leaning to the second, third, fourth and fifth ranks where the lucky folks lived. Those of us on living on ground level had to deal with the noise, of course, but also whatever junk people felt like chucking out their windows, food that smelled just too bad to put in the trash, and sometimes…other things.
I kept my head down but was absolutely soaked by the time I reached the unit I shared with my mother. We’d lucked out and got a blue one—“not one of those lemons!” as my mother had said, but that was about where our luck had ended. I had to admit, I’d been feeling quite nihilistic since Rey moved away, leaving me with “friends” with whom I felt no real connection. Then, when my dad and mom split and he got a house in Florida, I honestly stopped caring about…most things.
The Monolith Page 1
