Apocalypse 2020: A Wasteland LitRPG

by James T. Witherspoon

  They didn’t talk as they searched through the loot. Each of them took items that they found useful for themselves, and then grabbed whatever they could carry to be sold back in New Wichita. Among the equipment, Boothe found a backpack.

  ITEM OBTAINED

  Tactical Backpack - Back Slot

  Durability 72% - Value $72

  Capacity - 5

  This lightweight canvas backpack allows you to carry more items. It also has a sling on the side to hold a two-handed weapon for easy access.

  Boothe put his rifle into the sling on the side of the pack and slipped it over his shoulders. It fit so comfortably, he could barely feel it there at all.

  With their loot, they walked back through the tunnels. It took nearly half an hour for them to make it back to the elevator, marching in uncomfortable silence the entire way. Boothe took the opportunity to pick up a few weapons from the dead gecks, filling his backpack with junk to sell when they got back to New Wichita.

  Finally, they rode up to the surface.

  “We’ll meet you back in town to split the loot and turn in our report to The Eagles,” Braddock said. Then he and Mariko rode east on their motorcycles.

  “That was crazy,” Scarlett said, when they were alone. “Just one second, and he was dead. So brutal.”

  “It’s weird, isn’t it?” Boothe asked, climbing into the Falcon. “The loss they’re experiencing is real. I’ve never seen that type of thing in a game before. I mean sometimes, when I die after getting really far in a stage and have to start over - that sucks and I feel bad. But this is almost like real death. Like, we’ll probably never talk to Locke again.”

  “Yeah,” Scarlett said, before growing quiet. Boothe could tell she was thinking about something, but didn’t ask.

  They drove back towards New Wichita in silence. The wasteland changed from brown, to red, to violet, then to black as the sun dropped below the horizon.

  Back in town, they made their way to the Eagle’s Nest where Victor was sitting in the conference room, looking over a stack of papers. He gave them his condolences for the loss of their teammate, then handed each of them a ticket to get a free item from the Armory.

  MISSION COMPLETE: Carey Salt Mines

  REWARD: Eagles Armory Ticket

  Boothe gains 1500XP

  LEVEL UP!

  Boothe reaches Level 8!

  You have unlocked a new class power.

  Braddock held out a metal hand to Boothe.

  “It was nice working with you.”

  Braddock has added you to his Friends List. Do you want to add him as well?

  I clicked Yes.

  “You too,” Boothe said. “Really, I’m sorry about Locke. He seemed like a good guy.”

  “He was,” Braddock agreed. He moved over to Scarlett and expressed his thanks and appreciation to her as well.

  Mariko sat in one of the conference room chairs, her helmet covering her face, her head tilted down. Boothe walked over and gently put a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She didn’t reply. Instead, after a few moments, she simply faded out of existence. Logged off.

  After Braddock said his goodbyes, he logged out as well.

  Boothe and Scarlett left the conference room and walked together down the hallway to the armory. A robot that looked like little more than a metal box with arms stood in front of a wall lined with various items. A slot on the front of the robot had a label above it that read Insert Ticket Here.

  Boothe let Scarlett go first. She slipped her ticket into the robot, who sucked it in like a dollar bill into a vending machine.

  “Make your selection please,” it said, in a grating machine voice that sounded like a dot-matrix printer.

  She picked out a set of black armor made of tiny scales that shimmered like snake skin as it moved.

  “Oh man, feel this,” she said.

  Boothe ran his hand along the material. It flowed like silk – extremely light-weight, but offering much more protection than the leather armor she had been wearing.

  Boothe inserted his ticket and after a moment of looking over the selection, he pointed towards a pair of boots.

  ITEM OBTAINED

  Impact Boots - Feet Slot - 2 Armor

  Durability - 100% Value - $750

  These boots absorb the impact of any fall, allowing you to jump from great heights or fall long distances, without risk of doing any damage to your body. Even when jumping from tall buildings, or flying planes, if you land on your feet, these boots will protect you.

  “That’s insane,” Scarlett said. “Come on. I want to go try on my new armor.”

  They went together into the locker room. Boothe tried not to stare as Scarlett stripped out of her leather armor. She had worn a t-shirt and blue jeans beneath, but those clothes would not fit under her new skin-tight armor. She went into one of the privacy stalls to change the rest of the way.

  Meanwhile, Boothe pulled off his old boots and slipped into his new ones. They had platforms beneath his feet, with shocks that absorbed the impact, and a brace that came up to connect to his ankle. They felt strange at first - like walking on a trampoline.

  When he had finished strapping them on and tightening them, he heard the door to the stall open, and looked over to see Scarlett emerge. His jaw nearly dropped. All the curves that the previous armor had hidden under padded layers were now clearly visible. He couldn’t help thinking it, and he didn’t care if she was just pixels on a screen - she looked sexy as hell.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “You look amazing.”

  “Thanks,” she said, then looked down at his feet. “Those are cool. They make me want to push you off a building or something. Just to try them out, you know.”

  Boothe laughed.

  When the moment had passed, he said “Hey, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay,” she replied, and sat down on the bench next to him.

  “With Locke dying, and death being so permanent in the game, I’ve been thinking a lot about what would happen if one of us were to die. I mean, we don’t know each other in real life, we have no way of contacting each other. If you died, or I did, I don’t know what I would do. How would I talk to you again? I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

  It was a hard thing for Boothe to say. Something he had been holding in for a while.

  “Is this your way of asking for my number?” Scarlett said.

  “Well, maybe,” Boothe laughed. “But don’t you think we should exchange numbers, just in case?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m a little anxious about giving personal information out over the internet. I know we’ve been talking for a while, and I do consider you a friend - it just makes me nervous.”

  Boothe wasn’t expecting that. She was the one who was always wanting to talk about their lives outside the game.

  “Okay,” he said. “What about this. I’ll give you my phone number, then if something happens to either of us, you will be able to call me.”

  She thought about this for a moment, then said “Okay. I can do that.”

  ***

  I told Scarlett my phone number. I could hear pen scratching along paper as she wrote it down.

  “Got it,” she said.

  “I mean, you could just call me anyways,” I said. “Even if neither of us die.”

  She laughed. “Okay,” she said. “I might.”

  We sat in awkward silence for a moment. Our avatars were only inches apart on the bench in the Eagle’s Nest locker room, but really I was alone, the glow from the computer monitor the only light in my dark bedroom.

  “Well I’m getting tired,” Scarlett said. “I think I’m going to log off for tonight.”

  “Okay,” I said. “See you tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Maybe Paul will actually be on then.”

  I glanced over at my Friends list that still said Cthulwho - OFFLINE.
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  “Yeah, I don’t know what happened to him,” I said.

  “Okay, well goodnight Bran,” Scarlett said with a yawn.

  “Goodnight.”

  The sound of background static in my headset cut out completely, signaling that Scarlett was no longer there. Her avatar faded out on the screen.

  Scarlett - OFFLINE.

  I went ahead and logged out as well. I didn’t want to go questing on my own and get ahead of her again in experience. Instead, I moved over to my bed, laid down, and looked over at the phone on my computer desk, hoping it would ring.

  Interlude 6

  House Visit

  “What the hell is an Ocarina anyways?” Splotch asked. He was a big-boned senior with pale skin, blonde hair, and an unfortunate birthmark that discolored half of his neck in a pattern that looked like somebody had spilt red ink on it - hence why we called him Splotch. Affectionately, of course.

  “It’s some kind of goofy flute, or harmonica, or something,” Craig replied. He was a junior - younger than me - but he had a full thick beard, making him look like the Unabomber. Or Jesus.

  They had the newest issue of Nintendo Power laid out on the table between them and were looking through all the images and reading any info they could about the new Legend of Zelda game for Nintendo 64. I didn’t even have a 64 yet. I mostly played on PC, but if I felt like playing a console, I had my Super Nintendo, my regular Nintendo, and even my dad’s old Atari.

  I had played the previous Zelda games of course, but I couldn’t get as excited as they were about the new one. It looked like a child’s toy compared to Apocalypse 2020. I didn’t speak these thoughts, not wanting to dampen their enthusiasm.

  I sketched in my book as they talked, mostly just listening to the conversation around me while I drew illustrations of the Mutyrant, and Locke, and Scarlett in her new outfit. All the things running through my head - images that would occupy my mind until I drew them out on paper.

  “You’re really good, you know,” Foster said. He sat across the table from me, looking over at the sketch I was working on. It was a pencil drawing of the whole group from last night, driving across the wasteland - Braddock and Mariko in front on their motorcycles, while Scarlett, Locke and I rode in the Falcon behind them.

  “Thanks,” I said. For once, I actually agreed with him. I was proud of this one.

  “Holy shit man,” Splotch said, looking over at my sketchbook. “You drew that?”

  I sat with the pencil in my hand, shading the skyline in the background.

  “Uh. Yes.”

  “Obviously,” Foster said, rolling his eyes. “He’s really good, you should see some of his other stuff.”

  “Yeah, let us see,” Splotch said.

  “Alright.” I handed over my sketchbook for them to flip through. I had never willingly let another person look through my drawings. It felt like I was handing my infant child over to a juggler.

  “Wow,” Craig said. “You should be a professional or something. You could do comic books.”

  “Is this stuff from Apocalypse 2020?” Splotch asked. “Do you play that game?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “I heard that there were less than a hundred people playing it. That they had more, but people kept dying, and when you die you can’t play anymore.”

  “What?” Craig exclaimed. “Seriously? That’s not true, is it?”

  “It’s true,” I said.

  “So you die one time, and you’re done?”

  “Yep,” I said. The image of Locke’s head being ripped clean from his body came into my mind. I pointed over at my drawing of him. “That guy died last night.”

  “That’s insane,” Splotch said. “I wish I could play, but I don’t have a computer.”

  “I have an old Commodore, but that’s it,” Craig added.

  “My computer could probably handle it,” Foster said. “But you can’t even buy the game. You have to get invited.”

  “Is it even that good?” Splotch asked.

  “It’s good,” I said.

  “Like, how good? Better than Super Metroid?”

  I laughed. “I don’t know man, they’re totally different games. That’s like asking if Super Mario World is better than Chess.”

  “Of course Super Mario World is better than Chess,” Splotch said, looking at me like I was an idiot. “Who gives a shit about Chess?”

  “Hey,” Craig said. “Could I pay you to draw something for me?”

  I hadn’t ever sold my drawings before. I never thought anybody would actually want them enough to pay me for them.

  “I mean, if you want one, I’ll just draw it for you,” I said.

  “No,” Foster said. “You have this skill, you shouldn’t just give it away.”

  “Yeah, I don’t mind paying for it,” Craig said. “I’ll give you twenty bucks for a drawing of me dressed like Link, fighting Ganon.”

  The entire table burst into laughter.

  “What?” Craig asked, defensively.

  “You want a picture of you dressed in a goofy hat, leggings, and a skirt?” Splotch said, between huge gasps of breath.

  “It’s a tunic,” Craig corrected.

  When we had finished laughing, I said “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll draw it over the weekend.”

  “Cool,” Craig said, smiling.

  The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Splotch handed my sketchbook back to me, saying “Man, I wish I could draw that good.”

  Splotch and Craig both left, rushing down the hallway towards their next class, but Foster hung behind as I was slipping the sketchbook back into my bag.

  “Hey, are you doing anything tonight?” he asked me.

  “Just playing Apocalypse 2020,” I said. It was Friday and Dad had told me that he wasn’t going to be home until morning. I’d likely stay up late playing.

  “Want to hang out some? I really want to watch you play, just to see what it’s like.”

  We had talked about it a couple times before this, but I had reservations about letting him see my house. Foster was cool though. I didn’t think he’d make fun of me, or embarrass me about the place. I tried to push my self-consciousness back. It would be fun.

  “Sure,” I said. “Here I’ll write my address down.”

  So I did, and handed it to him on a small slip of paper.

  “Just come over whenever,” I said.

  “Awesome,” Foster said. “Looking forward to it.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  “Alright, I better get to class.”

  And just like that, I was having my first friend come over to the new house.

  All thoughts of schoolwork, of Apocalypse 2020, even of Scarlett were pushed out of my head as I grew anxious about the evening. I tried to convince myself that there was nothing to be worried about. That it was just going to be fun, hanging out with Foster, but my stupid brain kept finding things to be embarrassed about.

  Where is he going to sit? On my bed? Is that weird? What will we eat? Frozen burritos? Is there any Mt. Dew left in the fridge? Does he even like Mt. Dew? I don’t have any speakers - how is he going to hear what’s happening on the game? Maybe I should buy some speakers. Is that going to cause feedback with the microphone? Will he think that the game is lame? What will he think about Scarlett? Will Scarlett be annoyed that I brought him?

  By the end of the day, I was ready to just call the whole thing off. If I had seen him in the hall, I might have. But I didn’t, and I didn’t have his phone number. He was just going to show up at my door sometime during the evening. At that point, it would be too late to send him away. I needed to stop being crazy - it wouldn’t be that bad.

  On the way home from school, I stopped by Piggly Wiggly and grabbed a 12-pack of Coke, Dr. Pepper, Sprite, and a couple gallons of Ozarka - because our tap water smelled like bleach. I bought some Chex Mix, a bag of Cheetos, two frozen pizzas, and some sandwich meat - I hoped the bread at home hadn’t gone moldy yet.

  A
fter I paid for all of this, I was left with less than a dollar of the money that was intended to pay for my school lunches and gas for the next week. But if Craig gave me 20 dollars for the drawing, I’d be covered. I hoped he was serious about that - I didn’t want to have to ask my dad for more money.

  When I got home, I carried all the groceries inside in a single trip, put all the drinks and the pizzas into the fridge, the snacks on the table, and then got to work cleaning.

  I swept the hardwood floors, I wiped down the bathroom counter, brushed the toilet, picked up all the dirty clothes in my room, and threw away eight Mt. Dew cans that had gathered around my computer monitor. Then I sprayed Lysol in every room, nearly choking myself to death before I opened a window and let it all air out.

  This was as good as it was going to get.

  I sat at the kitchen table, sipping a Mt. Dew, wondering if I should even start playing before he got here. I’d hate to have to stop to answer the door in the middle of a fight or something. Instead, I took the time to call Paul.

  The phone rang and rang, but once again, nobody answered. I left a message on his machine. “Hey, call me back sometime. Where have you been? This is Bran. Bye.”

  A moment later, a loud ringing noise startled me. The doorbell. I’d never even heard it before. I rushed over to the door and opened it up to see Foster standing on the doorstep holding a plastic bag that said Taco Bonito.

  “You like tacos?” he asked. “They have a two for a dollar thing on Fridays. I bought ten of them.”

  “Uh, yeah I like tacos,” I said. “Who doesn’t like tacos?”

  “Morons,” Foster said with a laugh as he walked into my house. Into my kitchen.

  “So you thought that I could possibly be a moron?” I asked, feigning offense.

  “Well, we haven’t known each other long. I had to be sure.”

  We laughed and I gave him a short tour of the house. I showed him the drinks in the fridge - he said he’d drink just about anything, but took a Dr. Pepper - I pointed out the bathroom down the hallway, then I led him into my room, where the computer was.