Although this haul of items is not spectacular to start the game, I will certainly take it over having to walk outside with nothing. This still won’t be easy, though. One baseball bat won’t bring me victory, it will bring blood. I hope not my own.
I press down on the door handle, the painful creaking noise breaking through the silence as I open the door. The cold chill of the wind instantly smacks my face. This is not what I thought it would look like at all. Instead of abandoned vehicles and a gas station near the parking lot of the abandoned motel, the wide expanse of the ocean stretches out in front of me. The dark-gray clouds swirl above, resulting in the white caps on the water to have an ominous tinge.
I step outside and close the door, fully immersing myself into the landscape. I instantly regret choosing to wear the steel armor, the cold metal pressing up against my skin only making it that much more unbearable. I look to the left and right and suddenly everything makes sense. Either side of me is lined in the same brown doors, likely dozens and dozens of cabins that make up the huge cruise ship. I must have come out one of the top floors on the deck, because the top of the cruise ship and the massive antenna on top are barely visible above the massive mass of windows and rusted metal on the exterior of the boat. From my position on the deck, I can’t see either the bow or stern, but from the way the deck seems to grow narrower to the left of me, it appears as if I’m on the starboard side.
However, orienting myself on the ship quickly disappears from my list of worries. The pack of zombies approaching on either side, their growls and footsteps echoing across the cement deck of the boat, instantly become my number-one priority.
Damn, this is an entire horde.
At least half a dozen close in on me. I grip the baseball bat, readying to take out multiple zombies in a series of violent blows to their heads. They come closer, and my breathing, instead of picking up, nearly stops. In super high-pressure moments, my body seems to shut down, all my energy being focused on the task at hand: eliminating these beasts.
I ponder the thought of jumping into the water below and trying to swim around and find a lifeboat, which would be a fun adventure and make it very hard for anyone to kill me unless they have a sniper rifle. Except after noticing the multiple icebergs floating in the water, and then peering over the railing to notice the nearly eighty-foot drop, that idea seems much less appealing.
I have to kill these zombies. I narrow my eyes at the group to my left, four monstrous, misconfigured bodies sprinting at me. I charge forward.
Two strides before their arms reach the distance to claw me apart, I raise the bat, swiftly driving the barrel straight into two of their faces. Their brittle necks break off at the impact, causing both bald, discolored heads to fall to the ground in a disgusting, yet mesmerizing splash of blood. Their bodies follow soon after, the energy seeming to fizzle out in the muscles as they both collapse to the floor.
Chunks of zombified flesh stick to the nails of the bat, leaving it dripping with blood. Before I can take the bat and swing it into the other two zombies, they have already managed to claw at me. I watch in a panic as my health goes down by 100 points as the group of zombies from the other direction joins the party of eating my brains out.
These idiots fucked up. I grit my teeth together, attempting to block out the pain as I violently hack the bat into two more of the zombies. Their hold around my arms loosens as they madly growl, either in pain or annoyance. Sometimes I wonder if they even know if they are dead once I kill them. But then I also realize that this is all a video game and that none of it is real, but in the moment that is sometimes hard to tell.
A gunshot sounds from up above, and a feeling of panic courses through me as I imagine it being aimed directly at me. However, no bullets land anywhere near the clusterfuck of zombies surrounding me; instead, a rabid jaw with sharp fangs chomps my shoulder. Every once in a while, a zombie has some horrible disease that instantly poisons the player.
This is one of those times.
I raise the baseball bat, trying again to hack it into the hearts or heads of the zombies surrounding me. But my coordination goes out the window. Time seems to slow down, but in reality, it is my body itself that moves lethargically. My vision blurs, and all the hissing, foaming mouths in front of me seem to converge into one.
I won’t let this confusion stop me.
I kick my brain into hyperdrive, ignoring the downward roller coaster of my health points at the bottom of my vision. As the zombies claw and try to bite me, I wriggle my body out of their hold and swing the bat back and forth, quickly driving in and out of the flesh of the zombies.
Finally, one falls in a horrific spill of blood and guts. Then a second one, and then a third one. Until finally only one zombie passenger remains. It still has a torn-up Hawaiian shirt, bathing suit, sunglasses, and even strands of bleached blond hair hanging in threads from its scaly skin.
It manages to dig its thick, dirty nails into me in one painful scratch, but the next instant my bat, which is now horribly discolored from blood, and noticeably heavier from the skin and guts, smacks right into his legs.
The zombie falls to the ground.
I stand above it, part of me wanting to take a second to enjoy my position of power and take a deep breath to admire the bodies and blood strewn out in a disgusting circle over the deck. Another gunshot from up above ends my moment of reflection as it started. I grunt, raising the bat high above my head to deliver one last deadly blow to the skull of the zombie.
On impact, its growling whimpers to a halt. I killed them all.
The effects of the poison have passed their climax, but without proper care, they will still linger on for at least another fifteen minutes. I kneel on the floor and rip out my knapsack. I pull out the small one-hundred-milliliter vials of potions and the elixir. I quickly down each one, the sensation always odd whenever the taste of them hits my throat. Although no liquid makes its way down my throat in real life, the game always has a way of making my taste buds go into an odd frenzy when the distinctly sour-tasting substance hits the tongue of my avatar.
In no time my vision returns to normal along with my coordination, and my health jumps back up a few hundred points.
I sigh, some of the pressure oozing out of my nostrils in a thick cloud of steam as I look upward to the highest level of the deck where the gunshots echoed from. The real game begins now. I close the bag and put it back on my back. Then I grip the bat, with pieces of guts and other bodily fluids still dripping from it, and run down the deck to the nearest staircase. I check the bottom of my vision and take a minute to register the numbers. My armor is intact. My health is above a healthy 700 points. Yet everyone is still living.
Four people left to go down.
After passing over ten abandoned identical cabins, a wide concrete staircase leads to the upper deck. I walk close to the side, planning to use the concrete as a barrier to protect me from being seen by anyone else. In a fight against someone with a gun, me with a baseball bat will lose nine out of ten times. I need to catch someone off guard.
I emerge onto the entertainment deck of the ship. The tall center of the ship, which contains the staff areas and of course the control center, towers above the open deck. Dozens of bleached and rusted sunbathing chairs line the deck with an empty bar and pool. There are even some chairs and tables and what seems like the inside of a restaurant, one of likely many on the ship. I run behind the bar, quickly checking underneath the granite countertop for any items of interest.
Nothing.
Then I check around the pool deck and even in the flower beds of some of the bare palm trees meant to give life to the otherwise boring deck. Nothing in there either.
I’ll have to go for it. I run forward, keeping my footsteps as light as possible. The gunshots were coming from the other side of the center of the ship, where the entertainment deck likely continues. Immediately upon passing the massive structure at the center of the deck, the rest of the ship come
s into view. A wide open-air pit cuts into the middle of the ship. It is hundreds of feet wide and easily dozens of feet deep, each floor of the hundreds of cabins visible. In the center is a massive water park, consisting of huge slides, a wave pool, and even a jungle-like playground for kids.
On the top of one of the slides I can spot Riva, who is currently engaged with Astor, the man who came in second place in last year’s Deadwave Finals and is definitely looking to follow that up with an even better finish. As Riva shoots at him, clearly with the vantage point, Astor hides in the jungle park, every few moments sticking his head out from one of the platforms to attempt and shoot Riva.
Except the gunshots I heard weren’t from them. Another gunshot rings, this time much closer. I notice the count of people left drop to four in the corner of my vision. Then the body of Aiden appears from behind a smooth metal tail at the stern of the ship that also seems to have a bar attached to it. He must have killed Jessie. And now he wants to kill me.
I run, sprinting in the opposite direction before he can fire a shot at me. Two zombies appear from the far side of the ship, and I watch as one of them locks its sight on Aiden and one on me. C’mon, both of you go for him. I have dealt with enough of this shit.
Despite my frustration, I only let the zombie motivate me more to get out. I run down the same staircase I used to come up to the entertainment deck and make my way past the same pile of dead zombies that I killed before. I keep running, attempting to dodge the flurry of bullets that flow in my direction. Three connect with my back, each inflicting minimal damage and pain as they barely chip me. The back side of the ship quickly approaches, and with it another group of zombies that rush towards me.
Everything is beginning to turn to chaos. And all I can do is run.
Finally, as I reach the back of the boat, I find what I am looking for. The emergency staircase. I bolt inside and dash down the stairs. I need to get down to that water park. I need to kill Astor.
The zombies open the door and sprint down the stairs, a few seconds behind me, and Aiden is likely behind them too. What am I doing? I imagine how ridiculous it must look like for me, supposedly one of the top Deadwave players in the world, to be running away from all conflict in an endless circle.
Except they don’t know I have a plan, and as I open the door to the bottom floor of the staircase, the water park coming into full view in front of me, everything seems to be vaguely working. Well, working half-decent for a plan I frantically formulated in my head ten seconds ago.
I madly dash across the water park, not wasting any time to look up and see if Riva noticed me. I need to create as much chaos as possible, and the pack of zombies and Aiden following behind me do an amazing job of that. I look at the jungle playground and the maze of tunnels and platforms meant for little children to play hide-and-seek on.
Come and find me. I laugh as a bullet hits the back of my neck, causing my health to take a dive downward. They won’t know where I am. I’ll kill them before they even know it.
I make sure to enter the playground jungle on the opposite side that Astor was camped out on. After a hasty analysis, it appears as if there are two meandering paths through the tunnels to get to where he is. Both are full of turns and cramped corners. His gun won’t have any advantage over me.
He should fear me.
A scream sounds from outside above the sound of the growling. The echoes of the gunshots pick up in frequency. Eventually someone will run out of ammo, which will only make my job easier. I have to survive. I have to make it up to the top of that blue, twisty water slide to eliminate Riva.
That’s how I win.
A loud, erratic thumping noise echoes through the tunnel. Astor must be coming down the same path that I am. I stop moving forward on my hands and knees (the playground is meant for and built for little kids) and listen to the sounds of Astor moving closer, readying to take the bat that I dragged along with me and force it into his heart.
Suddenly he stops moving forward too. We both enter an awkward stalemate, each of us listening to the gunfire and stomach-turning noises outside. One final resounding gunshot pounds against the tunnel, and the count of people living drops to three.
Now the other living person will inevitably make their way to us. If one of us even wants a shot at winning, we have to kill each other first.
I narrow my eyes down the tunnel, the mold and rust that cover the brown tube making this the perfect battleground. I inch forward, a few feet away from the turn in the tunnel, where Astor is likely hiding.
I inch forward again, pausing to listen to any movement from Astor. Nothing but silence follows. I wait another few seconds, letting the tension build before I finally explode forward. A bullet connects with my neck, the confines of the cramped tunnel causing my body to shake with the noise. I don’t let the fact that my ears practically died from the intensity of the sound stop me from jabbing the nails straight into the chest of Astor. Both of us wince, the pain likely equally awful for each of us.
I watch in horror as my health dips down once again. Just one more direct hit and I will be dead. I need to kill him first.
I throw my body on top of his, his next gunshot barely clipping my side, which only causes my health to go down by over 20 points. The gun falls out of his hand as I jam my knee into his throat and pin his body down against the tunnel. No matter how intense games of tag got on this playground, nothing has ever compared to this, that’s for sure. The red skin of his avatar glows in the darkness. I raise the bat high in the air and smash it into his face, his tactical body armor doing nothing to suppress that impact.
Blood spews out of his head as bits of red flesh stick to the bat. I deliver yet another hit to his skull, and with that violent swing, life finally flees from the avatar. The count of players living ticks down to two as the once tense body beneath me goes limp.
I scavenge his own bag and clothes for any items to remedy my health, which is sitting at just above 100 points, which essentially means I am about to die. There’s nothing here. I pick up the pistol, which has over five bullets left in its clip.
This is all I have. I drop the baseball bat, which has been rendered useless by the amount of flesh draped over the nails, and pick up the pistol to use as my weapon of assault on what will be my final attack on a Deadwave player in my final career.
I can’t let that reality hit now. I take a deep breath and crawl back the way I came out the tunnel, channeling all my determination to try and block out the weight of the moment from crippling me. Most players at this moment would wait it out, trying to get a feel for things while giving everyone a moment to rest.
I know I don’t have that luxury.
I have to charge forward. I have to kill whoever is still alive before they catch their breath. I have to kill them when they don’t expect it, and make it quick enough so that I don’t have any time to think about it.
I step on the soft, rubber-like platform on the jungle play set and connect my eyes with the avatar running down the dry, yet huge water slide on the other end of the park. Even from afar, I can see the long, black hair of the avatar flowing with its movements.
The game is down to me and Riva.
Just kill her and don’t think about it. Don’t let this get to you.
I sprint forward, not trying to waste any bullets until I get at least within a few dozen feet of her. She notices me almost immediately and fires three bullets in my direction, all of which miss, but a few do chip the concrete on either side of me.
If I get hit in the head, I’m gonna die.
The blue water slide nears closer as Riva ducks behind the edge of the slide and out of view. My only hope is that she is running low on health like me, because if she is nearly undamaged then I have no chance at winning this thing. I finally make it underneath the shadow of the slide, the freezing temperatures beginning to make my muscles feel thick.
It looks like the only safe way to go up is by the base of the stairs, and suddenly
a ridiculous yet maybe crazy enough idea to actually work pops into my head. I run up the wooden stairs, bounding in long strides up the dozens of steps to the top of the slide. I listen for any movements besides the growling of the zombies in the surrounding areas. I wait at the bottom of the stairs, allowing a horde of zombies to lock onto me and begin to run up the staircase too. Now with four zombies trailing behind me and Riva right above me on the slide, it would seem as if everything is about to end.
My delusional mind keeps screaming at itself it will be okay, but the world won’t listen to my screams. Only I will. Then, right as the growling of the zombies reaches a feverish pitch, their footsteps feet behind me, I step on top of the railing and jump off the side of the staircase. I make sure to turn around midair, grabbing the railing about ten feet below where I was. I then climb back over the railing after pulling myself up and dash back down the stairs to the concrete below. My plan has worked.
The zombies manage to lock in on Riva in the time that I jumped off the side of the staircase, and now have engaged her at the top of the steps. Multiple gunshots reverberate off the walls of the dozens of cabins. There is no doubt that Riva is losing some health up there from the zombies attacking her, but I can’t take the risk that they will end her by themselves.
I run to the base of the water slide and then bound up it. At points, the friction between the metal and my shoes make it all very slippery, but I don’t let that stop me. With Riva still focused on the zombies, I have the precious needed time to try and fire off a few bullets before she can.
I keep running, the ride up, although bumpy, curvy, and painful, all going well except for one misstep almost sending my entire body off the side of the slide. I got this. I let my inner consciousness serve as my hype team for my body, which is clamoring with exhaustion and doubt.
After about a solid minute of running and climbing, I make it to the top of the dark blue slide where Riva is firing one more bullet to kill the last zombie. The thought that would have been “oh shit” instead comes out in the form of a bullet from the barrel of my gun. Except by the time I had turned around, Riva had already turned to fire a shot at me.
Deadwave Page 25