The Last Player Standing: A Dystopian LitRPG Novel

by Alexey Volkov

  Jennifer slammed the car into gear and stomped her feet on the accelerator hard, causing the vehicle to lurch forward. The windshield suddenly crazed as several players in front of the car opened fire on us.

  “Duck,” Jennifer yelled.

  We hunched down in our seats as some of the bullets tore through the windshield and zipped over our heads to rip into the headrests. Then the Ford bumped into whoever wasn’t fast enough to get out of the way. We straightened out. Jennifer swung the Ford onto a gravel road. Still, we weren’t out of the woods yet. Not even close.

  “They’re chasing us,” my girlfriend said glancing in the rearview mirror.

  I twisted in my seat to look back and saw several SUVs and pickup trucks fall in behind us, some of the players leaning out of the passenger windows and firing at us. Jennifer floored the gas pedal, yet the Ford wasn’t fast enough to give our chasers the slip. The enemy fire streamed by on either side as the hostile vehicles rushed in closer and closer.

  We had to find a way to get rid of them, otherwise we were doomed.

  “Pop the hatch, Jen,” I said.

  Jennifer didn’t ask any questions. She just reached under the dashboard with her left hand to yank on the lever controlling the catch-release. The rear hatch popped open and swung up, revealing the road behind the SUV and the off-road vehicles following close behind. The hydraulic support struts caught, locking the hatch open.

  I crawled between the two front seats and then into the backseat of the Ford Explorer, folding one of the seats down to climb in the cargo section. I was tossed to one side as the SUV dipped into a pothole. I bumped my head on the ceiling and cursed under my breath.

  Star-pattern bursts erupted from the muzzles of the assault rifles as the players opened fire on the Ford Explorer again.

  The SUV lurched hard to the left as Jennifer brought it around a bend in the road, dirt spewing from beneath the tires.

  I flicked the fire switch selector on my assault rifle from full auto to three-round burst with my thumb. I then spread my legs in the rear compartment to equalize my balance and brought my gun up, cramming the buttstock against my shoulder.

  The first vehicle rounded the bend in the road and raced after the Ford Explorer. I aimed down the barrel, putting the player leaning out of the front passenger window in my iron sights, and stroked the trigger.

  The assault rifle bucked against my shoulder as three smoking spent shell casings arced out of the ejection port and clinked to the floor of the back of the SUV before bouncing out of the vehicle. The gunman took the bullets in the chest, the force of the impact yanking him out of the car and onto the dirt road.

  I fired another three-round burst. The slugs drilled three holes through the windshield of the car, blood splashing all over the interior of the car. Out of control, the vehicle swerved off the road and crashed into a tree.

  The other SUVs and pickup trucks rounded the bend and raced after us, guns blazing. The enemies’ bullets zipped by on either side of the Ford Explorer, some of them punched holes in the body of the car. The bullets also arced into the SUV through the open hatch, leather and stuffing exploding into the air. I felt the impact of the bullets on my body armor from time to time. My eyes flicked at the HUD every now and then to check on the Health bar.

  I kept shooting, but due to the road conditions, most of my shots went wide.

  When my assault rifle clicked on an empty chamber, I quickly reloaded the gun and assessed the situation. There were still too many vehicles behind us. No way I could get rid of them before they stiffed me. Had to change the tactic.

  So I hung the assault rifle around my neck and started jerking grenades from my vest and throwing them through the open hatch onto the road. The grenades started to go off, the resultant multiple explosions pulverizing the vehicles, sending debris and pulpy flesh into the air. The ground shook and the Ford Explorer was rocked by one shock wave after another.

  I was getting lots of experience points but barely paid attention to the notifications appearing before my eyes.

  I reached for another grenade only to find out that I had none left. There was still one vehicle behind us. I brought my assault rifle up and squeezed the trigger. The bullets struck the hood engine of the car. I let the muzzle rise with the recoil, the rounds stitching a line of holes across the windshield and catching the driver in the chest, neck, and face.

  The body of the dead player was flung across the steering wheel and the car swerved sharply to the right. Two wheels dipped into a ditch, causing the car to roll over and end up on its roof.

  Finally, there was only debris in our wake. I reached out with my left hand, swung the hatch close, and then crawled back into the cab and climbed into the front passenger seat.

  “Great job,” Jennifer said.

  “Thanks.”

  She glanced at my stats. “You’ve leveled up to seventeen.”

  “Really? I didn’t realize it.”

  Jennifer was right. I looked at my HUD and saw the number “17”. I also had two skill points to assign now.

  “But we might as well find another ride now,” Jennifer observed.

  The Ford Explorer was riddled with bullet holes. The engine didn’t seem to be damaged much and the car drove pretty smoothly, but the big vehicle wouldn’t stand another such hard beating.

  We drove in silence for a mile or so. I was looking over the Skill Tree, trying to decide which skills to learn. Before I reached the decision, Jennifer said, “I don’t get it. All those players were focused entirely on us. Why the heck didn’t they fight one another?”

  Deciding to assign the two skill points later, I closed the Skill Tree and looked at Jennifer. “Probably they all were on the same team.”

  “If so, it was such a big team. It’s a very hard task to gather such a big group, if you ask me. How did they manage to accomplish it?”

  “They might’ve given the opportunity to join their team to anyone who wanted to. It doesn’t really matter now that they’re all dead.”

  “I don’t know, Jason. I don’t like it. Something seems wrong to me.”

  Before I could answer her, a message popped up in the log. The message read, “Such a nice girlfriend you got, Jason. Not only she’s a cutie but she’s also very smart.”

  I got goose bumps after reading the message.

  “What the heck was that?” I muttered.

  Jennifer cast a glance at me. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Someone’s just sent me a message.”

  “Really? I didn’t know you could text other players in this game.”

  “You and me both.”

  Another message emerged in the log. “You are going to regret having thrown a monkey wrench into the works, Jason. You’re going to pay for this. I’m gonna kill ya.”

  “Dang it.”

  “What?” Jennifer asked. “Did they text you again?”

  “Yeah. Whoever it is threatens to kill me.”

  “Any ideas who it may be?”

  “I’m not sure. There’s no nickname.”

  “Can you text them back to ask what’s their beef with you?”

  I tried, but nothing happened. It figured.

  “No. You can’t send messages to other players in this game unless you are––”

  It dawned on me.

  “Wait a second,” I said. “I just realized. It must be Vic Morgan.”

  Jennifer glanced at me again. “You mean that hacker we’ve recently killed?”

  “Yeah. I can’t think of anyone else who may hate me and can do such things that other players can’t do in this game.”

  A new message appeared in the log. “Duh, it took you so long to ID me. You’re so dumb. I have no idea how you have been able to get yourself such a hot and smart girlfriend. You don’t deserve her.”

  Vic Morgan seemed to be very fond of Jennifer despite the fact that it had been she who had shot him in the face. Pr
obably Vic Morgan hadn’t even realized who had killed him. Sure enough, I wasn’t going to enlighten him on this.

  Another message appeared. “It’s a shame she’s going to die with you. She shouldn’t have gotten herself such a loser like you.”

  “I don’t know how this is possible, but he’s watching us and able to hear us talking,” I said to Jennifer.

  “He’s a hacker,” she replied shrugging her shoulders.

  “True. But as I recall, he said that he couldn’t actually hack the game. He doesn’t die in real life if he gets killed in the game. Instead, he revives in his pod in one piece. Aside from that, he doesn’t differ from the other players. At least that’s what he told me.”

  Yet another message from Vic Morgan popped up. “Didn’t I tell you that after I get killed, I can watch any player play the game and text them? Well, now you know it. And there’s something else you should know.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve been assembling a team of players since you moron killed me. And I’ve managed to round up lots of players. Believe it or not, the players you’ve killed a few minutes ago were just a small group of the players I’ve gathered up. The rest of my team is currently looking for you. I watch them and you play at once. Once I tip them off about your whereabouts, they’ll get to you as quickly as possible.”

  “What the heck are you talking about? Since then players started to take orders from you?”

  “I pretended to be one of the game moderators,” Vic Morgan explained. “I told them that you and your girlfriend were cheaters and that they had to find and kill you. I said that if they agreed to team up against you and managed to hunt you down, then I would give a legendary weapon to every participant.”

  “And they bought it, huh?”

  “Not all of the players I talked to believed me, of course. Still, I managed to gather up a surprisingly large group of players. No way you and your pretty girlfriend can kill them all.”

  “So what do you want from us?” I asked.

  “You bastard killed me, so I want to take revenge on you. I want you and your girl dead.”

  “Yes, I killed you, so what? You’ve revived in your pod. You’re still safe and sound, aren’t you? So what’s the problem? You can sign up for another Battle Royale game. You can play the effing game over and over again till you finally get the win. So why are you brooding over my having killed you?”

  “Probably because he was born pissed,” Jennifer said out loud. “Or dumb. Or, most likely, both.”

  If Vic Morgan heard what she had just said, he ignored her. “How many times do I have to tell you about my uncle? He’s gonna kill me! He was really angry when I revived in my pod and told him that I had lost again. You should’ve seen his eyes! He left my room without saying anything, locked me in, and left the house. When he returns, he’ll kill me.”

  “He won’t kill ya.”

  “Believe me, he will.”

  “Probably you don’t know him as well as you think. If he’d really been going to kill you, he would already. Why wait?”

  “I don’t know. Probably he’s got to make some preparations.”

  “Think about it, man. He needs you. What would he achieve by killing you? Absolutely nothing. On the other hand, you being a skilled hacker can benefit him in many ways. So he won’t kill ya, man. No way.”

  Vic Morgan didn’t text me for a couple of moments as if he was reflecting on what I had just told him.

  Finally, a new message appeared in the log. “You may be right. But I’m going to kill both of you anyway. I might’ve won the game if you hadn’t killed me. You have to pay for this.”

  This guy was starting to really piss me off. “Cut the crap. Even if I hadn’t killed you, you would’ve been whacked by another player because you play like a noob. You are a noob.”

  “Screw you! I’m gonna really enjoy watching you two being killed!”

  “Dang it,” I said. “Probably I shouldn’t have pissed this jerk off.”

  There were no more new messages from Vic Morgan.

  “What’d he tell you?” Jennifer asked.

  I gave her a brief rundown. My girlfriend thought about it for a moment and then she asked, “How many players are there on his team?”

  “Don’t know. He didn’t tell me. But he said there’s a lot.”

  “So probably he lied to you.”

  “Maybe,” I said although I wasn’t so sure. “Anyway, think we best be prepared for the worst.”

  “Yeah.”

  We drove in silence for a few minutes.

  Then we reached another bend in the round, which curved around a thicket of trees. As we were nearing the bend, a big pickup truck came from behind the trees and raced up the narrow road toward us.

  Cursing, Jennifer yanked the steering wheel to the side, swerving the Ford Explorer to avoid the onrushing vehicle. The abused SUV lurched the right just in time. The left side of the Ford screeched against that of the pickup truck, a shower of sparks spewing everywhere.

  A second vehicle followed closely behind the first one and I also caught a glimpse of another car and yet another. It was the players from Vic Morgan’s gang, for sure.

  Jennifer spun the wheel, trying to regain control of the Ford Explorer. Yet before she could accomplish it, the big SUV veered off the road and into the dense undergrowth, the branches lashing out at the windshield. Then a thick trunk of a tree popped up right in front of us.

  “Look out,” I yelled.

  Yet it was too late. The SUV slammed into the tree hard. The hood crumpled somewhat under the impact. I was thrown against my seat belt. Something smacked against my face and then I heard the pop of the airbags deploying.

  The emergency cushion blinded me. I couldn’t see jack. Finally, the airbags quickly deflated.

  I twisted in my seat to peer back through the rear window and dense foliage. Several vehicles came to a stop in the middle of the road and players started to climb out, weapons at the ready. I quickly assessed the condition of the Ford Explorer. The car was battered and bullet-riddled, the hood crumpled, but the engine was still working.

  Then I saw Jennifer throw the driver’s-side door open. She was about to get out of the car.

  “Jennifer, wait,” I yelled. “What are you doing?”

  “We need to get outta here fast.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, ‘No’?”

  The bullets started to burn through the forest, ripping leaves and snapping off the branches.

  I explained my plan as quickly as I could. “No way we can get away from them on foot. We should change places. You got a grenade launcher. I drive, you shoot.”

  Jennifer looked like she was going to argue. Then the rear window exploded in a shower of sparkling pieces and she shouted, “Okay, let’s go!”

  I pushed the door open, leaped out, raced around the tree the SUV had slammed into and raced for the driver’s-side door. Jennifer had already moved over into the passenger seat. I slid in behind the wheel and slammed the door shut behind me.

  I threw the car into reverse, twisted in my seat to look back, and started to back up the way we had come. The players fired on from the road, the bullets striking the body of the car.

  The big SUV drove onto the road, smashing the rear end into the side of one car. The players scattered to avoid being hit by the big Ford Explorer. I spun the wheel, reached for the gearshift, shifted the car into gear, and slammed on the accelerator. I swung the car in a tight semicircle and raced along the gravel road.

  Jennifer wasted no time. She leaned out of the passenger window, took aim, and squeezed the trigger of the grenade launcher. I glanced in the rearview mirror just in time to see the 40 mm grenade strike the windshield of one vehicle and explode on impact. A bright orange fireball engulfed the car, the windows shattering. The gasoline tank caught a moment later and the second explosion closely followed the first one.
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  My girlfriend had already turned her attention to another car in line. She delivered another 40 mm round to the car and it exploded as well. She then aligned her sights on yet another vehicle and triggered the grenade launcher, sending glass, metal, and flesh flying in every direction.

  Jennifer continued to lay waste to the enemies’ vehicles, yet there were way too many of them. Some of the hostile cars managed to pull abreast of the Ford Explorer, the gunmen spraying the interior of our car with rounds. We had to constantly use auto-injectors to patch ourselves up. We were fortunate enough to avoid being killed so far, but it was painfully obvious that our luck wouldn’t hold for long.

  Some of the bullets punched through the engine compartment and gray smoke started to billow from under the hood. The Ford Explorer wouldn’t go more than thirty miles per hour now. Moving this slow, there was no way we could get away from our pursuers. The big SUV seemed to be on the edge of breaking up.

  Jennifer slid back into the cab to reload her weapon.

  “Come one,” I muttered. “Don’t break on us now.”

  “We shoulda left the car when he had such a chance,” Jennifer rubbed in.

  Despite our situation, my girlfriend was surprisingly cool-headed and detached.

  Another bullet ripped into the cab, missing my head by millimeters, and shattered the dashboard, shards of glass showering me.

  “Dang it! We gotta do something, Jen!”

  My girlfriend pointed toward a turnoff several yards ahead of our car and said, “Take this road. I’ve just checked the map. It leads to some building. We’ll make our last stand in there.”

  I didn’t like the way she had said it. Jennifer seemed to have resigned herself to imminent death.

  I spun the wheel sharply, swinging the SUV onto the dirt road. Up ahead was a one-story building. In the rearview mirror, I saw the vehicles follow us. Jennifer leaned out of the window and opened up on the hostile vehicles again.

  After reaching the house, I brought the SUV to a stop and we leaped out. The garage door was open, but sure enough, there was no car in there. Someone had long since looted this place. We got in the living room and quickly looked around the room. I spotted a mini bar at the far wall, which we could use for cover.