The Last Player Standing: A Dystopian LitRPG Novel

by Alexey Volkov

  “Geez, Jason,” Jennifer uttered, sounding a little irritated. “I’ve already told you that he’s still in love with me. He’d do anything to please me. Besides, he’s very fond of Ellen as well. He’s always liked her. So I one hundred percent sure he didn’t lie to me. He had no reason to.”

  Still, it was very sketchy. Not only wasn’t I sure if this would work out, but I also wasn’t sure what the developers would do to us when we both revived in our respective pods. Would they kill us on the score of our using the glitch in our advantage? Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps they would let us go.

  But what about the prize? Assuming they didn’t kill us after we revived in our pods, would they present us with a million dollars? I doubted it because if we both got killed in the game by the Red Zone, then there would technically be no winner in the game to give the prize to.

  I told Jennifer this.

  “Does it matter?” She said. “We can safely get out of the game, Jason. This is the most important thing.”

  I tried hard not to be annoyed.

  “Of course, it matters, Jen,” I replied. “The only reason I decided to play this effing game is the money. Doesn’t you know that, Jen?”

  “Geez. We haven’t even made it to the final stage of the game yet and you’re already talking about the money. We should concentrate on the matter at hand, our survival. Let us worry about the money when there are no players in the game except for us.”

  She was right, of course. It was too early to be worrying about whether the developers would give us the prize.

  Still, my gut feeling was telling me that something was off here. My girlfriend seemed to be holding something back.

  “Jen, did you tell me everything?” I asked.

  She averted her eyes from my gaze for a moment, then looked back at me, and nodded.

  “Sure. Why would I keep anything from you, Jason?”

  I kept watching her, trying to determine if she was telling the truth.

  “So tell me something,” I said. “Why have you decided to play this game?”

  “Isn’t this obvious?” She asked. “To help you stay alive, of course.”

  “Yeah, I get it. But now we may not get the money.”

  “Oh, here you go again––you’re talking about the money again. Thought we were past that.”

  “Okay, let’s forget about the prize for now. How exactly were you going to help me stay alive if you’ve never played virtual reality video games before?”

  “I’ve got some gaming experience.”

  “Yeah, about that. You’ve already mentioned that and it surprised me a big deal. Why have you never told me that you’ve played video games before?”

  “Because some stupid guy named Steve wanted me to play with him,” she said in a clipped voice. “Steve loved video games, so I played with him till I broke up with the guy. We spend hundreds of hours in virtual reality, playing various shooter games. He taught me a lot, so I soon became a decent player. Yet I’ve never appreciated what he gave me. Until now. Since I’ve learned a lot from him, I can help you win the game. Since we both are good players, we’ve got really good chances of winning.”

  “And you never told me about your past gaming experience because you don’t like to talk about Steve?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Also, there was no reason to tell you about this. By the time we started dating, neither you nor we had played video games anymore, so there was no reason for me to bring the subject up in our conversations.”

  “I just realized something. When I was teaching you to fire handguns, you turned out to be a quick learner. But now I know that you’d already been a good shot thanks to you being experienced in shooter games.”

  “Yeah.”

  Before I could say anything else, there was a distant sound coming from the outside.

  “What the heck is that?” I asked.

  “Helicopter, maybe?”

  “Doesn’t sound like a chopper.”

  “Probably it isn’t a chopper. But whatever it is does sound like it’s heading our way.”

  We exchanged glances, then dashed toward the windows. I looked out but saw nothing of interest.

  “Look, there,” Jen exclaimed, looking out the window facing the opposite direction.

  I darted across the room and peered in the direction my girlfriend was pointing. There was an aircraft streaking across the sky from the east toward our house.

  “Do you think it’s a player?” Jennifer asked.

  “I doubt it.”

  As if in confirmation to my words, a message appeared in the log.

  > Be advised that the supplies will be dropped in 2min59sec. Check your map to learn where the supplies will land.

  I brought up the map and saw a bleep appear on it a few hundred yards from our building.

  “Hey, it ain’t gonna be far from us when it lands,” Jennifer remarked obviously looking at the map as well.

  “Let’s go get it.”

  We dashed into the garage.

  “Who’s gonna do the driving?” I asked as we reached the SUV.

  “I drive, you shoot,” she replied as she opened the vehicle’s door and climbed behind the wheel.

  I got in the front passenger seat and swung the door shut behind me.

  “Guess there are gonna be other players,” Jennifer said as she started the car. “A lot of players.”

  “You bet.” I turned to look at her. “You still up for this?”

  “You kidding?” She scoffed at my remark. “I can handle myself. You better make sure you yourself don’t get shot.”

  She pointed at my left side where my T-shirt was caked with dried blood. I remembered that I had been bleeding from the debuff when the player wounded me after I failed to ambush him on the road. Sure, my T-shirt was beneath my ballistic vest now, but Jennifer must have noticed the blood earlier on.

  The house shuddered as the plane thundered over it.

  “We better hurry,” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  Jennifer punched a button on the dashboard to remotely open the door. We watched through the windshield as the door slid to the side. Then my girlfriend slammed on the gas pedal, driving out of the garage, and spun the steering wheel, turning the SUV around the corner of the building in a tight circle and leaving rubber skid marks across the blacktop of the driveway. She pointed the nose of the car toward where the plane was flying, gunned the engine, and sped off.

  I crawled between the two front seats, then over the SUV’s backseat, and then into the cargo section. I then rose through the roof hatch, readied the .50-caliber machine gun, and took hold of the grips of the weapon.

  I looked at the plane in the sky up ahead. It was placing more and more distance between itself and our car. Then I saw the aircraft’s cargo door swing open. A wood box was pushed out of the plane’s belly and into space. It was in free fall for a few seconds and then a parachute opened. The crate was jerked to a stop for a brief moment, then gravity reclaimed it and the box began to drift down and to the side toward a small hill on our right.

  Another message popped up in the log.

  > Be advised that the supplies have just been dropped. Check your map to learn where the supplies will land.

  Jennifer turned the SUV off the gravel road, directed the vehicle toward the hill, and accelerated. The vehicle raced across a grassy area.

  I heard a sound over the roar of the SUV’s engine. I jerked my head left then right, peering into the distance. I then glanced back over my shoulder. There was a thicket of sturdy trees behind us. A second later, a pickup truck darted into view around the thicket and barreled forward, heading for the hill.

  The car was gaining on us and soon I could tell that there were no occupants in the car besides the male driver. Suddenly, he stuck a pistol held in his left hand out of the side window and trained the handgun on us.

  I saw a muzzle flash and a moment later hea
rd the crack of the shot. The bullet glanced off the left side of the SUV’s body. The player kept on triggering his handgun, but due to the bumpy ride, most of his bullets went wide.

  It wasn’t all that smart move on his part.

  I aimed the muzzle of the machine gun at the pickup truck and triggered a short burst. The .50-caliber slugs went harmlessly over the truck’s roof. Not that I was that bad shot. I had just fired a warning.

  But the player failed to take the hint.

  After dumping the whole magazine in our direction, he retracted his hand back in the cab. The player then dropped the spent magazine, put the pistol in his lap, and slid a fresh mag into the pistol butt one-handed. He grabbed the handgun, smacked the bottom of the mag against the dashboard to click it into place, and hit the slide release to chamber a round.

  With the reloading done, the player thrust the pistol out the window once again.

  By this time, the pickup truck had pulled to within about ten yards of our SUV. At the range of ten yards, the player’s aim was significantly better. One of his bullets zipped past me, missing my head by a mere inch. I was forced to duck back inside the vehicle.

  “He’s shooting at us,” Jennifer stated from the driver seat.

  “No shit.”

  I caught her eye in the rearview mirror and saw her frown.

  “What have you been doing out there? Admiring the view? Get back to the gun and shoot that asshole down!”

  I had never thought that my girlfriend could be so toxic.

  I rose through the roof catch again and took hold of the machine gun’s grips.

  Sorry, pal, I thought as I drew a bead on the pickup truck, I gave you a chance to get away, but you didn’t take the opportunity.

  Still, I was hoping I could damage the pickup truck without having to kill the player.

  I depressed the trigger and held it down, pouring a long stream of fire into the car behind us. I aimed for the pickup truck’s radiator grille to damage the engine block. The big machine gun was hard to control and the muzzle climbed with the recoil, the bullets stitching a line of bullet holes across the car’s hood, punching holes in the windshield, and chewing the driver apart, blood splashing all over the windshield.

  > +100 exp for the kill

  The vehicle slowed down and came to a rest.

  When our SUV reached the bottom of the hill and hit the slope, our car’s speed decreased drastically. To take the steep hill, Jennifer dropped down through three gears and stepped on the gas. As the SUV recovered speed and started rolling up the slope, I scanned our surrounding for other threats. I noticed a few more vehicles and groups of players converging on the hill. Everybody wanted to lay their hands on whatever was inside the shipping crate, which had already landed on the top of the hill.

  Finally, we crested the hill. Jennifer pushed down the brake, bringing the SUV to a stop next to the wood box. My girlfriend swung the door open and jumped out of the car. She looked at me and said, “I’ll secure the loot. Keep an eye out for other players.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Jennifer spun around and stepped up to the crate. I looked around. The grassy area surrounding the hill stretched in all direction. Maintaining the high ground gave us a tactical advantage. I could easily see several vehicles and groups of players closing in on the hill.

  I swiveled the machine gun to cover the car nearest to us. The vehicle had just reached the hill and was now struggling up the slope. I lowered the muzzle and fingered the trigger. The windshield of the vehicle crazed as my rounds drilled holes through the safety glass and took the driver in the chest.

  > +100 exp for the kill

  Out of control, the vehicle started to roll backward down the hill.

  Suddenly, a blast of a shotgun reverberated through the air. I ducked my head, but then realized I wasn’t being fired at when I heard the crack of splintering wood. It was my girlfriend who had just fired her weapon at the wood box. Perhaps she figured it was easier and quicker to destroy the shipping crate than to disassemble it. Jennifer fired her shotgun again, the buckshot blasting great chunks out of the box, blowing huge holes, and sending scraps of wood flying in every direction.

  My girlfriend discharged her shotgun once more and the crate finally broke apart. I saw several items that had been inside the crate scatter across the top of the hill. There were several weapons, two bulletproof vests, grenades, ammo, and auto-injectors. From where I was, I couldn’t make out the items’ stats, but I saw that most of them were highlighted in blue, two in purple, and one item in orange, meaning there were one legendary item, two unique ones, and several rare ones.

  Letting her primary weapon dangle from its sling against her torso, Jennifer grabbed two assault rifles off the ground and dashed toward our SUV.

  The crack of fire sounded nearby and bullets struck against the SUV’s bodywork. Ducking my head, I looked around and spotted a player standing halfway up the slope and discharging what looked like an Ingram MAC-10 at our car. More shots rang out. I brought the machine gun around as .45-caliber bullets thudded against the SUV’s body.

  Some of them thudded against my torso. Due to my having the level 1 ballistic vest on, I took somewhat less damage than I would if I hadn’t had the body armor on.

  I aimed the muzzle at the SMG-wielding player and pulled the trigger. The heavy-caliber rounds burned across the space between us and tore the player to ribbons. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and pivoted the machine gun to train it on another threat.

  While I was dealing with the players coming at us from all directions, Jennifer hauled the rest of the items from the destroyed crate over to the SUV.

  The spent shell casings arced out of the machine gun as I kept firing at advancing players until it ran dry. I took an ammunition belt, fed the cartridges into the .50-caliber machine gun, and racked the charging handle, jacking a round into its chamber.

  I aimed the machine gun at a pickup truck struggling up the hill from the east and depressed the trigger, pouring .50-caliber bullets into the cab. Once the car and its occupants were dealt with, I swiveled the machine gun toward another vehicle roaring up the hill.

  There were too many players around, but luckily, as they tried to get to the top of the hill, they were fighting among themselves. Jennifer and I would have found themselves in big trouble had they all teamed up against us instead of shooting it out with one another.

  I heard Jennifer’s shotgun blasted every now and then as she dealt with players who had managed to make it to the top of the hill.

  Notifications about getting experience points and new levels popped up before my eyes, but I was in the thick of desperate fighting and barely paid them any attention.

  The constant crack of guns blazing away and players’ cries of rage made it seemed like a war was being waged. However, despite all the bullets burning through the air all around us, neither Jennifer nor I were severely wounded yet. I was starting to think we could get away from the intense gunfight scot-free and without so much as breaking a sweat.

  But then we ran out of luck.

  When Jennifer tossed two bulletproof vests into the back of our SUV, where she had piled up other items, she turned around toward the broken crate. There were only a few extra magazines and auto-injectors scattered around next to the wreckage of the wood crate. Since all the weapons and body armor from the supply drop were already on the SUV’s backseat, we could finally get out of this place. There was no need for us to risk our lives for a few additional mags and auto-injectors.

  I shouted to my girlfriend to get back to the car, but the din of the gunfire drowned me out. Jennifer bent over, started picking up the remaining loot, and shoving it into her bag.

  It was then that I spotted a player slinking up the slope, keeping low so that the tall grass kept him hidden from view. The player stopped a few feet from the top of the hill. As he cocked his right hand, the sunshine glinted off the metallic surface
of the round object the player held in his hand. He then proceeded to lobe the grenade, which arced through the air toward Jennifer.

  “Hit the deck,” I shouted to Jennifer at the top of my lungs.

  Before she could dive for the ground, the grenade detonated in midair before even hitting the earth. Jennifer was lifted off her feet and hurled through the air. She slammed against the SUV’s rear window and collapsed to the ground.

  My heart sunk, I pushed myself out the roof hatch and jumped off the car’s roof, landing on my feet and sinking to a crouch to absorb the impact. I then rose to my feet, run along the left side of the SUV, turned around the vehicle’s rear, and ran up to my girlfriend lying on the ground. As soon as I saw her try to sit up, I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

  “Are you okay?” I asked looking my girlfriend over.

  The ballistic vest she wore must have born the brunt of the explosion. Still, Jennifer didn’t look good. She had blood pouring down from a laceration across the left side of her head.

  “Barely alive,” she answered. “It left me with less than 5 percent of HP. Gotta heal real quick or I’ll bleed to death.”

  She delved into her bag for an auto-injector.

  Senses amped up to a peak level by adrenaline, I heard the soft sound of feet padding on the ground from behind me. I whirled around in time to see the player, who had just thrown the grenade, reach the top of the hill. He moved real slowly and carefully so as not to alert us about his approaching.

  I cleared my Desert Eagle-like pistol from its holster wrapped around my right thigh, took aim at the player, and started pulling the trigger repeatedly. The pistol’s slide kicked back, ejecting gleaming, smoking spent shell casings from the large ejection port. The player jerked under the impact of the bullets tearing into his chest. His head snapped back as another bullet found its mark, crimson splashing over the grass.