by Michael Ryan
They walked in a single-file line with Dale at point. For twenty minutes the route was uneventful, but then he tripped over a vine. Two noises broke the silence of the forest. The first was clanging metal – the vine had been a trip wire – and the second sounded like a vicious guard dog protecting its territory. And it was moving towards them.
“It’s getting closer,” Smith said.
“Take cover,” Dale said.
The large canine that burst through the underbrush at a full sprint was something like a wolf combined with a hyena. It had a vicious growl mixed with a sadistic laughter-like bark.
Dale held a combat knife in his left hand and a throwing blade in his right. He crouched into a defensive posture, putting himself near a tree so his back wouldn’t be exposed.
“Brian, cover my left. Smith, my right. That ugly mob might be a decoy,” Dale ordered.
The wolf-hyena stopped sprinting and crept in a crouching advance with its head close to the ground. Drool hung from long fangs, and yellow eyes darted back and forth.
Dale dug his feet into the soft forest soil and internally repeated knife-fighting tips from Drill Sergeant Green’s instruction.
Ërin: Center of gravity.
Dale: I know.
You got this.
Tips?
Nothing stored. Sorry.
His heart rate increased, beads of sweat roll down his face, and his hands began to shake.
Steady there, stud.
Weak points?
I got nothing.
The mental communications between Dale and Ërin were instantaneous. He’d practiced using her abilities to help him keep track of stats, skills, weapons, enemies, and maps, but it was still confusing to do multiple things in the heat of a real fight.
The creature feigned a lunge towards Dale but backed away. It snapped its jaws, growled, and circled.
Dale feinted left, then quickly leapt to his right. He flung his throwing blade, aiming for the soft and weak underbelly.
The creature jumped, and the blade missed by a hair.
“Should we help you?” Smith asked.
“No,” Dale answered. “We might get flanked. I have this. You two keep watch on the rear.”
Dale threw another blade, aiming for the spot at the base of the skull where the vertebrae joined the head. The area was often programmed to be a one-hit kill point. The beast dodged the flying steel and lunged.
Dale slashed with his combat knife and made contact. The slice cut into the shoulder of the animal, but not deep enough to stop it.
Dale: It’s faster than I expected.
Ërin: Don’t assume.
I know it makes–
Look out!
Ugly teeth snapped and nearly caught his forearm. He evaded by falling and rolling backward. He stood with his last throwing knife in hand and hurled it in one swift motion. It struck the ribs of the wolf-hyena and drew blood, but the damage wasn’t terminal.
The beast had shifted too quickly, and Dale realized he needed to anticipate where it would end up after it evaded his attack.
“Crap,” Dale said.
Ërin: You need to attack where it will be a moment ahead of your throw. You’re aiming at where it is, not where it will be.
Dale: Got it. Not where it is, but where it will be a moment in the future.
Exactly.
Dale lunged with his combat knife and the beast bolted.
“I’m going after it,” Dale said as he sprinted after the creature.
His body pumped adrenaline, his heart raced, and sweat dripped down his forehead as he ran. He gained on the creature when it entered an open patch in the forest. Dale had been running so fast that he hadn’t realized he’d been lured into a trap until it was too late.
A second and third mob revealed themselves and surrounded him.
Dale keyed his commlink and spoke, “Smith, Brian, where are you?”
Smith: “Coming!”
Brian: “We’re right behind you!”
One of the canines lunged and tried to bite his leg.
Dale jumped, kicked the animal in the head, and turned in time to strike a blow with the rear end of his knife into the skull of the creature. He spun, expecting a secondary attack from one of the other two enemies.
The attack came at the same moment that his friends burst into the forest clearing. Smith threw a knife that stuck the leaping predator in the neck.
The devastating strike opened its throat, and it fell as blood gushed from the wound.
Dale spun and lashed.
A blade launched by Brian flew past him and struck one of the remaining wolves.
“Thanks,” Dale said.
“That was your knife. Here are the other two,” Brian said, handing him the blades.
“I’ll move left. You move right,” Dale ordered. He lifted his combat knife, feigned a move to his right, but lunged left. A second later he felt a burning sensation in his right calf.
“Oh my god!” Dale screamed. Pain burned up his leg, and he fell to his knees. The canine shook its head violently as if it were a terrier killing a rat. Dale imagined his leg ripped from his body, and the burning intensified. “Brian! Where are you?”
“Goddammit! He’s collecting loot from my kill,” Smith shouted. “You idiot! That pelt isn’t going anywhere.”
Dale fell to the ground.
Smith rushed toward him and plunged his blade into the beast.
As the creature died, Dale passed out.
When Dale awoke, it was dark. An owl hooted, insects buzzed, and occasionally the high-pitched squeak of a bat using echolocation echoed through the woods.
A wolf howled, and Dale whispered, “Hello?”
“He’s awake,” a voice said.
He was groggy and unsure of who had spoken. Another voice said, “Dale?”
It sounded like Brian, private fucking-dumb-ass-greedy-bastard Daniels. “Brian, is that you? You asshole,” Dale said.
“I’m sorry, Dale,” Brian answered. “I didn’t mean to–”
“You got greedy and I got screwed over. Don’t ever do that again.”
“Sorry.”
“I don’t want to hear it. If you ever do shit like that again, I’ll transfer. Deal or no deal,” Dale said.
“You feeling okay?” Private Smith asked.
“Sort of,” Dale answered. “What’s the sit-rep?”
“We built a small lean-to for you to recover. That beast’s fangs carried toxin. I thought we were going to have to amputate.”
“Jesus, this game is brutal,” Dale said.
“It’s not a game,” Brian commented bitterly. “I mean, it is, but it isn’t. I think the government is using some–”
“Brian,” Smith interrupted.
“Yeah?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“What time is it?” Dale asked.
“It’s oh five hundred on day two,” Smith answered. “We’ve had no other contact, and our orders are to continue once you’re ready. We’ve given you two injections from the survival pack.”
“I wonder when they’ll introduce healing magic?” Brian said.
“You’ll be back to a hundred percent soon,” Smith said.
Dale: Ërin?
Ërin: Yes?
Where’s my HP?
Ninety-four percent.
Dale rummaged in his survival pack and found a power bar and water. He remained a little dizzy, the sensation similar to the first time he wore a Rhith Suit. The woozy feeling began to grow, and he realized unconsciousness was falling on him again. “Wake me in an hour.”
Ërin: You want an alarm set?
Dale: Sure, but nothing earsplitting.
Soft jazz?
I don’t care.
I can play something soothing now; it’ll help you sleep.
Sure.
Hypnotic music played, and he fell into a deep sleep and dreamt of wolves.
The predators chased him, snapping at his heels
and growling. He fell into a hole, tried to climb out, but was unsuccessful.
“Help me,” he whispered weakly. “This man-in-a-hole shit is getting old, and I just want to rest.”
Brian appeared at the entrance of the pit and looked down at Dale with an ear-to-ear grin. “Hello.”
“Help me,” Dale pleaded.
Brian cackled and growled like a hyena.
“Help?” Dale moaned.
“You’re always expecting a deus ex machina, Dale. Life isn’t that neatly packaged,” Brian said. He transmogrified into a human-sized gray rat and scurried away.
When Dale woke, his health had fully returned. He felt energetic and alive. “What’s the sit-rep?” he asked.
“Nothing new, just proceed with our mission,” Smith answered.
Dale climbed out of the tent and stretched. Yawning, he said, “I think I get the best sleep inside this construct.”
“It’s time to move out,” Brian said. “Let’s go, ladies.”
Dale gave him a dirty look. He adjusted his pack, his knives, and retightened the laces on his boots.
Dale: Any messages, Ërin?
Ërin: Nope.
“Smith, why don’t you take point, and I’ll take the rear?” Dale said.
“That’s what she said,” Smith answered.
Brian followed, and Dale ignored him, hoping the screwup the day before was an anomaly.
Two hours later, they reached the edge of the forest.
The foot of Mount Dog was in front of them, across a grassy meadow. “We should take a break while we’re still inside the tree line,” Dale suggested. He looked at his friend. “Brian, you need to tighten up your pack. And don’t forget to stay hydrated.”
“I know,” Brian snapped.
“If it bugs you, I won’t offer you advice.”
Brian scowled.
Dale: Ërin, are there any new guild maps of the mountain available?
Ërin: What’s been uploaded into the system this morning by the other teams.
Dale inspected them. They showed a small amount of progress by each of the other teams, but nothing that would help them. “The others have entered the mountain already,” he said. “Break’s over. Let’s get moving.”
“Hold on,” Smith said. “I just remembered something.” He retrieved a pair of binoculars from his inventory.
“Where’d you get those?” Brian asked.
“Upgrade money.”
“Upgrade money?”
“I’ve been around longer than you and suffered a painful death already. Upgrade money was one of the perks.”
“Do you see anything?”
“The path to the base appears to be clear, and I see an opening, either a cave or mineshaft, about a kilometer away.”
“Alrighty, then,” Dale said. “Let’s move out.”
The morning sun lit the first hundred meters of the cavern. At the end of that passage, there were three locked wooden doors.
The light had dimmed, but Dale noticed writing on the wall. None of it was in English. Besides odd-looking words scrawled in a strange alphabet, there were crude carvings. “Could you guys shine some light on this wall? Maybe there’s a clue.”
“My flashlight doesn’t work,” Brian said.
“Probably anti-tech magic,” Smith said.
“We don’t have any magic,” Brian said. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Nothing’s fair,” Dale said. “Let’s try to see if we can decipher anything.”
Dale: Ërin, do you have access to the central system?
Ërin: Nope. Only your internal processor. I can’t communicate with the outside. We’re cut off.
“Smith,” Dale said, “go back outside and upload what information we’ve gathered. Brian, while he’s doing that, you gather branches for torches.”
The pair returned with branches and wrapped them with flame cloth. Once lit, their torches cast flickering yellow-orange light.
“I can’t wait to get an avatar with night vision,” Brian said.
“Never mind the future,” Dale said. “Start looking for clues.”
“Maybe we need to break down one of these doors.”
“Smith, I don’t suppose you have a lock-picking kit?” Dale asked.
“I wasn’t so lucky,” he answered.
Above the first door was a sign with weird symbols.
Dale: Can you find a translation for this?
Ërin: It says something like “This way to the kitchen.”
Dale looked at Smith, who was standing in front of the third door. “Anything?”
“This one seems to be a common entrance,” Smith said. “But there’s no indication of how to get past it.”
“Keep looking,” Dale said as he hunted.
Dale: Ërin, anything with this block of text?
Ërin: It’s a riddle. “Find the sequence that doesn’t end.”
That’s it?
It also says “randomness is your friend” and that you need to select numbers in a particular order to solve a puzzle.
Wait a minute. It says we need to push random numbers in order? Seems like an oxymoron.
“I have a possible clue,” Dale said to his companions. He explained what Ërin had translated.
Smith was on his knees examining the wall. “I found a numbered grid.”
The puzzle was a ten-by-ten block of numerals. Each square had multiple numbers except for the top left-hand square, which contained only the single digit three. The others varied in length and had no recognizable pattern.
419716
93993
323
65358
46264
1415
979
“What do you make of it?” Smith asked.
“Looks like a bunch of meaningless numbers,” Brian said. “But maybe it’s a combination lock.”
“I think you’re onto something,” Dale said.
“I was kidding.”
“What if it’s a coded key? We need to figure out how to make the randomness make sense.”
Dale: Ërin, can you help?
Ërin: I can, but if you use cheats, you’ll lose bonuses. Better to solve it yourself if you can.
Dale considered the question of whether the seemingly random sequences of numbers could be put in order like a Fibonacci sequence, pi, or something similar.
“Maybe it’s pi,” Smith said.
“Great minds like alike,” Dale said.
Dale: Ërin, can you display pi in a pop-up out to a few hundred integers?
Ërin: Coming up, handsome.
Dale compared the numbers on the grid. “Your instinct appears to be right. Now what do we do?”
“If it’s a lock, then we enter them in sequence,” Brian said.
“Maybe,” Dale said.
“It’s worth a try,” Smith said. He pushed the number three, and the grid glowed fluorescent lime-green.
“Look for a square with a one-four-one sequence in it,” Dale advised.
“Got it. One-four-one-five,” Smith said. He pushed the square, and the puzzle changed colors.
They went through the first ninety-nine squares, and then Smith held his finger over the hundredth. “Are you guys ready?”
“Go for it,” Brian.
Smith pushed the last button.
A trapdoor opened in the floor and they plunged into darkness.
Dale held onto his torch while rushing air caused it to burn brighter. Illuminated walls covered with paintings flew past them. As they dropped, the scenes changed from recognizable animals to mythical creatures. Then the walls changed to a light-sucking blackness, and Dale’s torch barely glowed enough for him to see his companions.
Brian had dropped his branch.
It slid along the floor, tumbling and throwing odd multicolored shadows before it fizzled out.
“Try using your knife as a brake,” Dale suggested. He drove the tip of his hunting knife into the floor of the slide, attempti
ng to slow his descent. It created orange sparks and a loud screech, and his speed decreased.
Smith copied him.
Brian tumbled out of control.
The floor began to rise.
“Take my arm,” Dale said. He ditched his torch but kept his knife digging into the floor.
Smith locked arms with Dale.
As they decelerated, Brian rolled ahead of them.
At the end of the slide, Dale felt himself floating into infinity as they launched into the darkness.
Brian screamed in agony below them.
Dale landed on a soft sandy surface. “Are you okay?”
“Barely,” Smith said. “Where’s Brian?”
“Help,” Brian said. He’d flown farther into the void.
“Quick, light another torch,” Smith said.
Dale dug into his pack for flame cloth. “Do you see where the branch landed?”
“Yes,” Smith said.
He handed Dale the stick, and after wrapping it in flame cloth and lighting it, they saw Brian trapped in a huge spiderweb.
“Brian!” Dale yelled. A monstrous black widow spider was cautiously approaching his stuck companion, whose thrashing and struggling were attracting her.
“Quit moving,” Dale ordered, but Brian didn’t stop.
“I’ll help you jump up there,” Smith said. He extended his intertwined hands and dropped to a knee. “You can cut him free.”
As Dale was about to leap, he noticed shadows approaching. He picked up the torch and looked past Smith. “Holy shit!”
More spiders approached. They were males, smaller than the queen in the web. Crooked fangs stuck out of poorly designed heads, and they began a pincer movement.
“Smith, turn around,” Dale said. “We’re being flanked. I’ll go right. You go left.”
“Roger that,” Smith replied.
The pair slashed and hacked.
Spider legs soon littered the ground. Once the creatures were unable to crawl, they stomped on their abdomens, and goop poured onto the sand.
More mobs appeared from a cavern below the queen.
The apparent boss spider, the queen, watched the battle.
Brian continued to thrash around.
“Stop moving!” Dale yelled. “Can’t you get your knife?”
“Is this endless?” Smith asked.
“I don’t know; I’m more worried about the queen.”
“One thing at a time,” Smith said. “If this never ends, we’ll run out of HP and die here.”
