“What in the world gun was that?” Goemon asked.
“Don’t know. Grenade, maybe? No, I feel like we definitely would have heard someone yell ‘Kobe.’ Plus that was an impossible throw.”
“Scoreboard says...C4. Wow. People are getting serious. I have literally never used it.”
“We’ve been missing out! This whole time!” I laughed. Of course, the laughter was just to contain my own fear. Sure, it would have been fine and dandy to use C4 effectively. But I didn’t really care about that. The fact was that SUV bit the bullet big time for us, and they had no idea. If we did not stop to heal, we would have sped across the bridge and exploded in their place, clearing the way for them. Had the timing changed by a couple of seconds we would be dead. If the players on sniper rock had been worse shots, they would have missed us, we would not have stopped to heal. The whole concept of a PBR round was so fickle. The longer we survived, the longer I thought that you had to have fate on your side in order to win. Did it really all come down to randomness? Was there anything we could really do? Or was I just so scared of taking personal accountability that I was ready to blame someone, anyone else for a failure that had yet to even happen? Nah, no way that was it, we were in the Round of Destiny.
“I guess so. It’s not automatic though, right?”
“I don’t think so. I think you have to trigger it.”
“That means somebody is watching and...there they are.”
The victorious C4-wielding duo of the bridge had turned tail. They were currently en route to the Safety Circle, or at the very least headed in that direction. They had to know other duos would be crossing the bridge, whether it was us or someone else, so why would they abandon their post? Could be as simple a reason as they were out of C4, but likely it was that the Blue Wall made cowards of us all. I was no exception to that rule, but the question became how we would proceed across the bridge.
“Bike or foot?” I asked Goemon.
“Foot. I don’t want to explode. We’ll just get shot off the bike anyways.”
“Not if I drive fast enough. Besides, they’re not even facing us.”
“I think they’ll probably turn around if they hear the engine.”
“I can’t believe you don’t trust my driving.”
“Let’s just go already.”
“I just don’t know if we’ll make it. But, fine, if you want to die by the Blue then let’s die by the Blue.”
“You are out of control, do you know that? There, I’m on the bike, are you happy?”
“Yes.”
“Can we go already?”
“Yeah, hang on one sec.”
“There’s two duos behind us. One in front. The Blue is about to come in. You want me to hang on.”
“Yeah exactly,” I said. I jumped off the bike and moved to the middle of the roadway. I took one last glance through the scope towards the friendly duo in the distance. The very concept of friendly in PBR should not have existed at all. As long as the round continued, Elly and I could never really make it work. There were no ties in PBR. Eventually, one of us would have to pull the trigger. It could be me or it could be any other random player. The shot would have been good enough, even at that distance, even with the Para. They made no attempt to find cover or to run any kind of evasive pattern. They lacked the time. The BWOD was taking its toll. It waited for no one. I lowered the gun, reached into my inventory and left three first aid kits in the center of the path. I would have left a note if I could.
“OK. Let’s go,” I said and jumped back on the bike.
“What if the other duo gets it?” Goemon said.
“I don’t know man. I had to do something.”
If Goemon said something it was inaudible over the roar of the bike. My little charity stunt might have eased the guilt I felt at leaving Elly behind. At the same time, it caused me to lose track of the duo across the bridge and that felt almost as bad. I knew well enough that the enemy duo were the toll watchers, and if they abandoned their post then the rest of the bridge was free and clear of players. This allowed for full concentration on the obstacles of the road, at least until we crossed back into enemy territory.
Loot crates were the only remnants of the exploded SUV. They joined three others and the accompanying lifeless players. Guess the bridge watchers had been busy, and successful. We had neither the time nor the need to stop and check the contents of the crates. Instead I hit the gas, splitting two burning barrels, swerving left to avoid a Dosha and then right again to dodge a dilapidated pile of wheels and scrap. The process felt a bit like navigating a tombstone covered graveyard, only at breakneck speed and without the bad karma.
The bridge’s exit marked a turning point. The final phase of the round was upon us, and we attacked it with full force. Whatever happened on the other side of that bridge- the looting, the loving, the killing- no longer mattered. The only thing that mattered now was hanging on, to the bike, to the guns, to our lives.
“Where are they?” Goemon asked.
The way I figured, the Bridge Watcher Duo had three options. The gas station to our immediate right provided cover and a lone window to shoot out of. The guard tower on the hill at 45 would be a logical place for sniping, but my instinct for timing said if they picked that one we would be able to see them running up the side. The last option was through the trees, for natural cover while marching towards the Safety Circle. Of course, there was also the road dead ahead but they would have to be insane to stay exposed like that.
“Don’t see them,” I replied. We cruised past the gas station. No gunshots. “Do we just drive straight to the base?”
“Might as well, I guess. At least the outskirts.”
The patch of forest would be a death trap for the bike so our only choice was the road. It banked right and sloped up just enough to obscure whatever lurked on the other side. Countless other rounds in that exact location seared the landscape in my memory. It was the final high point before the slow descent toward the fortified Military Base.
We crested the slope and the front tire exploded as soon as I caught sight of the Bridge Watcher duo. I lost complete control of the bike as it took a ninety degree turn to the left. It turned into a bucking bronco ride that I no longer had control over. The only way to win the game was to hang on tight and slow down when we hit the trees. It occurred to me that I hoped we would not literally hit said trees.
Somehow we managed to stay upright amidst the janky turn and the uneven ground, and when we stabilized enough Goemon returned fire.
“They’re in the ditch. I got an angle,” he yelled.
The way the bike bounced and swerved made us the tougher target to hit by far. That did not stop the other duo from trying. But they had no discipline. Both of them sprayed in a wild, uncontrolled fashion, landing nothing but a few hits to the bike. The shots to the motorcycle must have been unintentional. It took somewhere above a full magazine of bullseyes to blow up a vehicle by force in PBR. Pebbles and logs were the things to watch out for, and we were about to find plenty of both.
“We’re going to have to bail,” I said as the woods approached. A moving dismount was suicide. We had to stop to jump, which would also leave us vulnerable. Goemon had to buy us some time. He did.
“I knocked him. I can’t believe I knocked him. It was my last bullet,” he yelled, reloading.
That was the edge we needed. “Get ready to jump,” I shouted and slammed on the brakes. The solo standing member of the opposite duo was either reloading himself or trying to pick up his teammate. Either way, it gave us the two seconds or so we needed to ditch the bike and jump behind a tree.
My heart pounded, and my vision narrowed into a blurry tunnel. Goemon and I looked at each other and nodded. I stared down the scope of the Para and leaned around the trunk of the tree. The fools were both crouched in the ditch with no cover from the waist up. I hardly minded that both of them were back in action. It just gave me more chances to land shots. I pulled the trig
ger and held fast, determined to dump out all of my ammo reserves if I had to. Forget about discipline. That all went out the window when you had close to a hundred rounds to burn through. The first went down in a show of crimson vapor. I decided to forget the scope, snapping my aim over to the next one from the hip instead. Maybe I missed fifty bullets, so long as I kept shooting it did not matter. In another second the enemy player ragdoll collapsed and the engagement was over. I began the reload process immediately.
“Whoa,” Goemon said. “How many bullets did you just shoot?”
“All of them,” I said.
23
Time To Choose
Top 11 and two more frags on the scoreboard. To be fair to the Bridge Guardian duo, they did not stand a chance against the Para at that range. The midrange might as well have been Para town, population me, or something like that. They took a trip on the Para train. Yeah, that was good too. Either way, I was definitely mayor, or I guess conductor. Point was, they were in no man’s land, with no cover and nowhere to run. Besides, they had every opportunity to take us down. They just lacked the skills to finish the job. Popping a tire was one thing. But when you have the Round of Destiny on your side, it will take a lot more than that to-
“Dude,” Goemon said. “You should probably heal.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
I still had one more first aid kit left over from my generous, and anonymous, no less, donation to Elly. While I patched myself up, I wondered how they were doing. We had a head start with the motorcycle for sure, but they would likely be at the bridge by now and picking up that crucial health. I opened up the map to check the position of the Blue.
My heart sank. The Safety Circle had jumped away from us yet again, smack dab in the middle of the military base. We were not far. We would make it. But we would have to hustle. And the no man’s land that trapped our opponents in the last engagement would be nothing compared to the fortified outskirts of the base. The sooner we left, the better.
“Top 11, Circle’s at military base. Para, sniper rifle. We’re gearing up for a photo finish, here,” I said. “The Blue’s coming in but if these guys had health I think we might have time to wait for Elly and Nails and still make it.”
“Top 11? Try Top 8.”
I checked the scoreboard. Three more had perished in the midst of our firefight. The heaviest casualties in PBR always took place at the beginning of the round. There was no question there. But as the Safety Circle shrank, the battleground did too. The skirmishes happened with more frequency, with the added caveat of far deadlier weapons. Nor did the Blue Wall of Death take any prisoners. It made me wonder.
“Did you catch the names of the last three who died?” I asked.
“No.”
“It’s just. Sounds like a duo and a half died, all at once.”
“Yeah.”
“Elly and Nails probably would have ran into the rock sniper duo at the same time they were all crossing the bridge.”
“Oh...yeah. That would make sense,” Goemon said. He must have sensed a loss in focus brewing under my skin. “But, you know, I’m sure they’re fine, we’ll probably see them at the finale.”
“Yeah, probably,” I agreed, a flat-out lie to myself and to Goemon just to try and play it cool. I had to play it cool. This was the end, the time to choose between finally being better than everyone else at something for once or a slumped over failure. It was harsh but true. Maybe too harsh, I never did work well under too much pressure. It had to be just the right amount. “Let’s just have fun,” I said, another lie to myself to try and calm down a bit.
“I’ll have plenty of fun looking back on this if we win.”
It was a sentiment I could agree with. We were close to the Safety Circle, close to winning, close to achieving that elusive recognition that came with the territory. But to win we had to live, and to continue living we had to move.
“Right. In that case, let me grab a first aid kit from these guys and we can roll.”
“Just take mine. I got a couple. No need to stop and get shot by whoever’s still behind us. We can cut through the forest.”
“Cool, thanks buddy.”
This was the final stage of the game. Ammo and first aid was often plentiful, and this round was no exception. We just spent in game hours searching toilets and tool sheds for every item we needed or did not, and the fact was most of them would end up unused in the bottom of the backpack. We had earned our invitation to the dance. My new date, because my old one was either dead or going to end up trying to kill me, was destiny. I had no choice but to say yes to the proposition.
“Will you be my chaperone?” I asked Goemon.
“Your what?” he said.
“I don’t even know anymore.”
“Maybe you need a break.”
“What I need is a win, just as bad as you.”
“Oh, YEAH. Let’s go, baby.”
It was as close as we would get to a rallying cry, and we should have saved it for the edge of the forest. To tell the truth, the forest was not much of one. Most of the current tiny island had been cleared out by the military base and the roads leading up to it. The trees remained likely due to the rocky, unusable patch of land they somehow grew out of. Resilient creatures, they were. Maybe we could take some inspiration from them.
We pushed through them without issue. Another clearing greeted us, this one being far more deadly. Between us and Military Base, us and the Safety Circle, was nothing but flat grass and two sets of chain link fences maybe twenty yards apart from each other. The distance between the security of the trees and some semblance of cover behind a silo or a standard issue bunker was tough to gauge. For sure it was more than feet, less than kilometers, and probably about an eight second run. It was impossible and necessary to march across the territory. It was also insane. With no cover and most likely all nine people still alive and already inside, probably teamed up, definitely with their guns pointed right in our direction, we would never make it. The good news was the grass had no mines in it, so at least we were guaranteed to keep all of our limbs.
“We run out there, we’re dead,” Goemon said.
“We gotta go. Gotta risk it. The Blue is closing in. We can still make it to cover inside the Circle before it does.”
“We won’t make it to cover because we’ll be dead.”
“But we’ll be dead if we stay here.”
“The Blue won’t kill us right away.”
“So?”
“So, we follow it into the Circle.”
“Mm. Take some damage, trade off as cover.”
“Exactly.”
“I hate staying in the Blue.”
“Yeah well getting shot is worse.”
“True.”
“Here. We should drink some energy drinks.”
“Always a good idea. Cheers.”
I pounded the drink as the Blue Wall of Death enveloped us. It was less a warm hug and more an iron maiden. The feeling was immediate, sort of like a seatbelt engaged too tight in an emergency braking procedure, only this one never let up unless you got out of the Blue.
Goemon crouched and I did the same. We moved slower that way but we matched the pace of the Wall almost exactly. With the battleground being as small as it was, the Blue no longer needed to operate at such a high speed. It was nice of the devs to implement one quality of life feature at least, so I could lumber along and spend as much excruciating time inside the BW as possible.
Vision from inside the Blue was obscured, but we could still see out. It was about the same as staring through a tinted window. It was much worse for the players on the outside looking in. They could still see us if they looked at the same spot long enough. But their vision would have to fight through environmental effects like swirling clouds and forked lightning and the general darkness that took place inside the moving storm that was the Wall. For them, it was like staring into a dim night without the benefit of adjusted eyes.
We could not lurk
within the Blue forever. I had a hard time concentrating on anything other than my own health bar, ticking down like the remaining seconds on the phase clock. The energy drink slowed the process, but did not plug the leak entirely. I should have been scanning the Safety Circle for enemies. Hopefully Goemon was able to remain more focused than I was.
The Blue crawled to a stop, designating the boundary of the arena for the next few minutes. I figured based on the size of the Safety Circle we had entered the penultimate phase, although I was not as familiar with the range of the battleground at the final phase as I should have been. Best estimation put the Circle at the length of a football field compressed into a ring. It might shrink two more times, three more, maybe it could go down to the size of a bedroom. I did not know. The only way I could find out was to escape the choking grip of the death cloud.
“When are we getting out of here,” I said. There were plenty of decent hiding places from my perspective. The Safety Circle had selected a cluster of buildings as its arena, most of them small and single story. Probably barracks, I figured. A three story number in the middle I recognized as some kind of central communications tower. Two guard towers nearby sat empty. They were death traps at this point. A broken wall stretched around the perimeter between us and the buildings.
“In a minute.”
“I’m dying. I’ll be dead in a minute.”
“Cool your jets, you have two-thirds of your health left.”
Gunfire erupted from one of the barracks. It was difficult to tell which. It might have even been several of them at once. Goemon might have spotted something I did not, because he took off out of the Blue without a countdown. He could have at least said “Now.” I hustled behind and felt the immediate decompression of my chest. It was nice to be able to breathe again, especially in the midst of an all-out sprint.
Project Battle Royale: A Gamelit Survival Book Page 14