Apocalypse 2020: A Wasteland LitRPG

by James T. Witherspoon

  “Ding!” Scarlett said faintly.

  “Are you okay?” Boothe asked, ignoring his own level-up notification and rushing over to her.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Can you pull that barb out? I’m stunned.”

  Boothe wrapped his hands around the tentacle. It felt like a balloon filled with warm pudding. He pulled and the barb tore free from Scarlett’s flesh, then he slung it to the side, disgusted.

  “There’s a timer,” Scarlett said. “It says paralysis will only last three minutes. Can you just make sure that nothing else attacks me before then?”

  “Sure,” Boothe said. “Want me to administer a medkit for that burn?”

  “No Boothe, I don’t want you to rub a salve on my chest. Thanks though.”

  “Just checking.”

  Boothe looked around for signs of other enemies, but didn’t see anything. He walked a few feet away from her towards where the other mutstag laid, to make sure it was dead. As he approached, he saw what they had been eating.

  “Ugh,” Boothe groaned.

  “What?” Scarlett asked, from her position on the ground.

  “It looks like one of those wolves we saw yesterday. I don’t know if they killed it, or it died naturally and they just ate the body. Either way, it’s all ripped apart and bloody and gross.”

  He walked back to Scarlett and knelt next to her paralyzed body.

  “Doesn’t look like there are any other enemies around though.”

  “Good,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you to have to fight anything on your own.”

  “Me either.”

  A couple of minutes later, she began wiggling her fingers.

  “Paralysis is wearing off,” she said. “Finally.”

  With some strain, she sat up. She took a medkit from her belt and turned away from Boothe to apply the salve to her burns.

  “This armor is shot,” she said. “It’s been bad for a while. I have a point in Armorsmithing, but haven’t been able to get any leather to repair it with.”

  “Can you get some from these mutstags?” Boothe asked.

  “I think so.” She knelt next to the one that had burned her, and pulled the hunting knife from her belt. Without warning, she sliced into the creature’s leg and started pulling skin away from muscle and bone, working her knife to cut through the tissue.

  “That’s disgusting,” Boothe said, looking away.

  “What, you’ve never dissected a frog in school?” she asked.

  “I skipped that day. On purpose. I don’t want to go poking around in a dead frog.”

  “Honestly, me either,” Scarlett replied. “But in games it doesn’t bother me.”

  “It usually doesn’t bother me either, but this is just so detailed.”

  After a few minutes, Scarlett had completely skinned both mutstags, and had some large pieces of hide to work with.

  “So, I’m supposed to clean them, soak them, and hang them somewhere warm to dry out, then they’ll become usable leather.”

  “That’s a lot of work,” Boothe said.

  Scarlett shrugged. “It’s pretty neat though. I’ve always liked crafting elements in games. It adds something fun to do besides all the killing.”

  “I thought you liked the killing. You always seem like you’re having a good time.”

  “Oh don’t get me wrong,” Scarlett said. “Venting my frustrations about life in a game is one of the main reasons I play. Still, sometimes I just want to relax.”

  After a moment, she looked over at Boothe and said “Seriously, Bran. I’ve really enjoyed the last week or so with you. You’ve made this game much more fun than it would have been otherwise.” She laughed, her eyes moving away from his. “It’s silly, but I spend most of the day looking forward to playing with you in the evenings.”

  There were so many things that Bran wanted to say in reply. He could tell her he felt the same way, could tell her how he actually likes her. Not playing this game with her, killing bandits and mutstags with her, but just talking to her. Just being with her. That was why he could sit in a car on long drives, or patiently wait for sunset. That’s why he wasn’t rushing towards bandit camps, like Cthulwho had been. Every boring moment was made enjoyable because he spent it with her.

  He wanted to tell her all of these things.

  Instead he grunted and said, “That’s cool.”

  She smiled and they continued towards the gates of New Wichita.

  Level 7

  Fight and Flight

  1

  The next day, Boothe stood in the middle of the street. Other players walked past him, NPCs as well. Sometimes it was difficult to tell the difference. Unless they had their arms exposed, showing that tattoo, he really couldn’t be sure.

  He looked over at his Friends list. Cthulwho and Scarlett were both OFFLINE, their names grayed out. He turned to Marty, floating just above his right shoulder, and said, “Guess it’s just you and me, buddy.”

  He allocated his new points into Intelligence and Hacking, since that seemed to be his role in the group, then he wandered around town for a bit, taking in the sights and looking for any other shops. There were vendors who specialized in food, vendors who sold crafting materials, and vendors who sold different types of ammunition. No vendors that specialized in drones though.

  After spending nearly an hour exploring the city, Paul and Scarlett had still not logged in. Boothe decided that he couldn’t just hang around and do nothing all day. Maybe he’d go out and explore around on his own. If he stayed close to the wall, he should be okay. He needed to practice with his grapple glove anyway, and he’d rather not embarrass himself in front of Scarlett again.

  So, he headed towards the gates, and then out into the Danger Zone north of New Wichita. It was weird being out there by himself. He felt so open, exposed. Maybe this was a really bad idea.

  Still, he couldn’t just hide whenever his friends weren’t online. He needed to be able to do things on his own as well. He could do this. Besides, he wasn’t completely alone. He had his drone. Marty.

  He walked down the street, taking the same path that they had traveled a few days earlier towards the Epic Center. An image was stuck in his head. That car hanging halfway out of the apartment building, with no clues as to how it had gotten there. He wanted to get a closer look at it.

  As he walked, he tried to keep an eye in every direction. He had Marty watch his back from above, staying alert for any danger. He spotted the building from a distance, the car still hanging out of it. From here, it looked like an old station wagon, beige with wood paneling on the sides.

  Boothe looked around once again to make sure that nothing was about to attack him, then he aimed his right hand up towards the window frame next to the station wagon. He pressed the buttons on his glove and the hook shot out, flying up the three stories and through the broken window. The hook opened and latched onto something inside the building, pulling the cord tight. Now for the hard part.

  He tried to gauge where the cord would pull him, and positioned himself so that he wouldn’t swing and hit anything on the way up, like he had back in Emporia. He set his feet, tightened the muscles in his arm, and then pressed the buttons on the glove once again. This time, he was expecting the pull, and he was able to stay in control as the cord dragged him through the air. When he was nearly at the third story window, he held out both his hands and grabbed the ledge, using the momentum to pull himself through the window.

  “First try!” Boothe cheered to himself. He wished Scarlett were here, but her name was still grayed out on his Friends list.

  The building that Boothe found himself in had been completely hollowed out. Walls were broken, leaving only a few pillars standing. Some of the ceiling sagged, while some had completely collapsed. Wide holes in the floor looked down onto the similar levels below. It didn’t seem like there was anything of value in this building, but maybe inside the car?

  Boothe turned to the station wagon and immediately rec
oiled. A driver still sat in inside, maggots squirming inside his eye-sockets. Flies buzzed noisily around his head. As Boothe approached the window, the smell of the occupant was overpowering. When he opened the driver’s side door, the stench and the cloud of flies nearly knocked him backwards. Boothe gagged, then held his arm over his nose and leaned in to get a better look.

  He couldn’t tell what had killed the driver, but he must have been dead for some time. The corpse had begun to liquify, decayed skin dripping down the sides of the seat and forming a black pool in the floorboard. Behind the driver, a black duffle bag sat in the back seat.

  The back door was locked, so Boothe reached past the corpse’s lolling head and snaked his hand around to pull up the lock. He opened the door and scooted around to reach in. The station wagon wobbled as he leaned on it, tilting precariously over the edge of the building. He quickly grabbed the bag and stepped backwards away from the vehicle. The front tires had lifted a tiny bit, but now set back down.

  Then something caught Boothe’s eye through the window. A gun, all the way in the back near the near the hatchback door - a rifle similar to his, but with several attachments on it, including a small scope of some sort and an extended magazine. He tossed the duffle bag onto the ground nearby. There was no way he could climb back there to get the gun without tipping the car off the edge of the building. Unless…

  He leaned into the back door, careful not to make the car move, then he aimed his grapple glove at the gun in the back and pressed the buttons. The hook shot out, and latched onto the rifle. With another press of the buttons, the cord yanked the weapon towards him. He stepped back, the gun in his hands. The car wobbled up and down, and for a moment Boothe thought that it would tip over. Then it settled again and was still.

  “That was easy,” Boothe said to himself. He sat on the floor nearby and went through his newly obtained loot.

  The gun was exactly the same as his - an M4A1 Carbine - but this one had two attachments. A Spotting Scope that gave the gun an additional +1 Aim, and an Extended Magazine that held 50 cartridges.

  With its attachments, this gun was quite a bit better than the one that Boothe had been carrying, so he put his old one aside, and placed the new one into the sling he wore on his back.

  Inside the duffle bag were stacks of neatly folded clothing. They seemed to even be in his size. There wasn’t anything there that would provide any armor, but could be worn to change his appearance and style. Under these, Boothe found an assortment of supplies: a water canteen, some canned food, a small knife, a crowbar, a pair of binoculars, and a stack of cash tied together with a rubber band. Boothe flipped through it - all twenties, a total of $2000.

  “Holy crap,” he muttered.

  Then he heard a low growl coming from behind him.

  2

  The creature was twice the size of Boothe. Its skin was like rock - cracked and chipped in places, but solid. A crunching, grinding noise came from every movement as its muscles flexed. It looked like a Mastiff, with a thick torso and large head, but a great set of bat wings spread out from its back.

  A marker above the creature’s head said Gargoyle.

  It growled and stalked towards him.

  Boothe zipped the duffle bag and threw it over his shoulder. Then he held his hands up and stepped back towards the ledge, near forty-feet above the ground. Maybe if he just left now, it would let him go and leave him alone.

  It didn’t though. It continued stalking towards him, its shoulders arched up and muscles rolling. Then with a loud roar, it charged.

  Boothe didn’t have time to think. He pulled his pistol and fired a shot. The bullet landed solidly into the creature’s face, but only chipped away a small bit of the stone. The gargoyle didn’t even slow before pouncing, mouth wide to show its three-inch long teeth. Boothe stumbled backwards, trying to dodge the attack, but the creature’s body slammed into him, knocking him backwards out of the building.

  Boothe flailed through the air, trying to make sense of the surroundings that spun around him. He was going to hit the ground in mere seconds, splattering on the broken concrete streets.

  He held out his fist, aimed as best he could, and fired his grappling hook at the closest building. Amazingly, the hook hit, and he immediately pressed the buttons on his glove, yanking his body away from the rapidly approaching ground.

  He wasn’t spinning anymore. Instead, he was soaring upwards. He looked back and saw the gargoyle gliding towards him, screeching an awful ear-piercing noise. Its back legs were stretched forward, enormous hawk-like talons on the end of canine paws. Boothe held his left hand behind him and shot at the beast with his pistol as he continued to swing forward.

  Two shots landed, one chipping away at its head and the other piercing through its left wing, leaving a small hole in the membrane there. The creature didn’t slow, the damage only seeming to make it angrier.

  As Boothe approached the building that his glove was attached to, he pressed the buttons to release the claw and retract the grappling hook. His momentum continued pulling him through the air, until he twisted and shot again at another building. The hook grabbed onto the stone there and then yanked him in that direction, completely shifting his trajectory.

  Despite the roaring beast behind him, Boothe couldn’t help enjoying himself as he practically flew through the destroyed city.

  “Holy crap, I’m Spider-Man,” he said to himself.

  He emptied his pistol at the monster, landing most of the shots, but it still continued after him. Even worse, it was gaining. With the grapple glove, Boothe was fast and agile, but the gargoyle was even more so. Every time he changed direction, the creature followed. Then it began to predict his movements, so that when he shot the grappling hook towards a new building, the gargoyle veered to cut him off.

  He couldn’t outrun it. He would have to face it. He needed a place that took away the advantage of the Gargoyle’s flight. Some place enclosed. Maybe he should have just stayed in the damn building he found the creature in.

  With the gargoyle only a yard behind him, Boothe shot the grappling hook towards a four-story office building and swung through an empty window frame. Without pausing, he ran across the floor and spun. He had a sudden wild idea, and only a moment to consider it.

  The gargoyle landed on the side of the building, gripping the wall with its talons. It held onto the edge, folded its wings backwards, and began squeezing through the window frame. While it was slowed, Boothe pulled the frag grenade from his belt and closed his grappling hook around it.

  He aimed the glove at the gargoyle and waited.

  As soon as the creature was inside the building, it spread its wings out again and let out a great Earth-shaking roar.

  When the gargoyle’s mouth was open wide, Boothe pulled the pin on the grenade and pressed the buttons on his glove. The grappling hook shot out, grenade gripped tight in its claw and flew directly down the gargoyle’s throat, cutting the creature’s roar short. Boothe pressed the buttons again, and pulled the hook back, leaving the grenade inside its gullet.

  “Holy crap, it worked,” Boothe said, running as far as he could away from the choking gargoyle. He took cover behind a cement pillar just before he heard the muffled explosion of the grenade.

  He peeked around to see the gargoyle surprisingly still intact. It stood for a few moments, blood seeping through the cracked stone that made up its skin. Its eyes had blown out of its skull and smoke drifted from its empty sockets. It opened its mouth in a silent cry, its meaty insides cooked and blackened, then it fell to the ground and shattered into a thousand stone shards.

  Boothe sat on the floor and breathed heavily. He knew that he should get back to New Wichita before he ran into even more trouble, but for now he just wanted to rest for a moment.

  Scarlett - ONLINE.

  “Hey,” Scarlett said, her voice coming through Boothe’s earpiece. “How’s it going?”

  Boothe laughed. “Well I almost got killed by this muta
nt gargoyle thing, but I did find a pretty cool new gun and a bunch of cash.”

  “Sounds like a good time. Sorry I missed it. You took it down by yourself?”

  “Yeah,” Boothe said. “I’m quite a badass when you’re not around actually.”

  “You should show me sometime. I’d like to see this.”

  “I’ll try,” Boothe said. “Where do you want to meet up?”

  “I’m at the Eagle’s Nest right now,” she said. “There’s a post for a new mission.”

  “Cool, I’m on my way. Do you know if there’s a bank in this game?”

  “I haven’t seen any,” Scarlett replied. “But I saw some pretty sweet upgrades for the Falcon, if you just want to spend some money.”

  “Not a bad idea.”

  Boothe made his way past the broken gargoyle, stepping around the still-smoking chunks of its insides.

  “Have you talked to Paul?” Scarlett asked.

  “No.”

  “This mission requires five people, so it’ll pair us with another team. Should I sign us up, or do you want to wait for him?”

  Boothe looked over at his Friends list.

  Cthulwho - OFFLINE.

  “Sign us up,” Boothe said. “We’ll do it without him.”

  “Okay. Done.”

  Instead of stopping to wait for the guards to open the gate, Boothe shot the grappling hook and used his momentum to launch himself over the wall entirely. Some of the guards glared at him as he flew over their heads.

  Inside the Civilized Zone, there were less tall buildings however, and Boothe found himself falling fast and unable to grapple onto anything to slow his drop. He landed hard in the middle of the street.

  Boothe takes 3 falling DAMAGE.

  Boothe HP - 3/6

  “Ow…” he groaned, standing back up and brushing his hands on his pants.

  “Did I miss something funny?” Scarlett asked.

  “No,” Boothe replied. “And I’m fine, by the way.”

  He limped his way to the Eagle’s Nest and headed down the elevator. There, Scarlett was waiting for him. Boothe couldn’t help but smile when he saw her.