“Wow Boothe,” Scarlett said through the earpiece. “Was that you?”
“Uh,” Boothe stammered, shocked by the violent chain of events that he had set into motion. “Yeah, that was me.”
“Nice job!”
“Where are you, Scarlett?” he asked.
“On your left,” she said. He turned just as she pulled up next to him in the Falcon. “I brought you a gift.”
“Just what I’ve always wanted,” he smiled.
She scooted over into the passenger seat and let him drive. “Get me to that guy with the megaphone,” she said. “I want to axe him a question.”
“Did you really just make that joke?” he asked.
“Shut up, it’s funny.”
Boothe shook his head and turned to Braddock. “Jump in.”
“You two go,” Braddock said. “I’m going to stay back and help defend the entrance.”
“Alright,” Boothe said. “Stay safe.”
“You too.”
With that, Boothe stomped down onto the gas pedal. Now, with the modifications to the vehicle that Braddock had made, there were a series of buttons on the steering wheel. Boothe hadn’t even had the opportunity to try them all out yet. Time to experiment.
The first button made the miniguns emerge from the side of the car, just above the front fenders. They were linked into a camera on the hood that detected enemies, and automatically fired at them. Immediately they spun into action and began firing .50 caliber bullets at about 2000 rounds per minute.
Driving (80%) - SUCCESS!
Boothe positioned himself behind one of the bandit trucks and the miniguns ripped into the back of the enemy vehicle, punching through the thick metal until the entire truck exploded in a ball of fire.
“I like this,” Boothe said. “I like this a lot.”
He pressed another button on the steering wheel. This time, a length of spinning metal about five feet long emerged straight out of the center of all four of the Falcon’s wheels.
“What the hell is that?” Scarlett asked.
“I don’t know, spikes to slam into enemies I guess?” Boothe said. He pressed the next button, and they both immediately understood what the lengths of metal were.
Chainsaws. Five-foot long spiraling chainsaws emerging from each wheel.
Boothe swerved into enemy vehicles, slicing up their tires and cutting through metal. Bandits dove out of the way of their car, trying to escape the spinning blades of death that surrounded them.
“Holy crap this is fun,” Boothe said. He knew that his friend had just died and that this was a dire situation, but still - it was a game and he was driving a car covered in chainsaws and machineguns.
“Boothe, watch out!” Scarlett said, pointing ahead.
One of the mutant rhinos turned towards him. The bandit riding on its back pointed a finger directly at the Falcon and the Rhino lowered its head and charged. Boothe should have just turned the wheel and drove to the side. He should have circled around and attacked the thing from a different angle - should have been more strategic about it, thought about tactics and maximizing advantages.
Instead, he aimed directly at the charging rhino, pushed the accelerator to the floorboard and pressed the last button on the steering wheel: the nitro.
Fire burst out of the back of the Falcon. Boothe and Scarlett were both slammed back into their seats as the car launched forward.
“You’re crazy!” Scarlett yelled. “You’re going to get us both killed!”
The miniguns fired constantly, sending round after round into the rhino’s face, bullets chipping away at its bony horns. Still, it charged, its head lowered, coming directly at them, undeterred by the damage it was taking.
They raced toward it in an insane game of chicken, growing closer and closer. Boothe hunched over the steering wheel screaming in rage. They had killed his friend - after all the time the group had put into power-leveling him over the last week. They had practically destroyed the Palisades nest. The bloody corpses of other Eagles lay around the battlefield - all his allies - even if he had never met them, didn’t really know them, they were still his team and he felt their loss.
These bandits were going to pay.
The car was only moments away from impact when the bullets from his minigun tore through one of the rhino’s horns, leaving only a tiny stump. Then, just before the Falcon would have plowed into the rhino’s face, a bullet landed directly into the beast’s right eye, making it lift its head in pain. It howled as its eye exploded, gushing blood down its check.
While its head was up, Boothe drove the car between its legs. The spinning chainsaws didn’t even slow as they sliced through four legs as big as tree trunks. Blood sprayed onto the Falcon - and its occupants - from every direction like some horrible barbarous carwash.
When the Falcon emerged from the other side of the rhino, the beast slumped to the ground dead. Its rider looked around, confused, just before Marty sent a red laser through his head, dropping him as well.
When Scarlett stopped screaming, she reached over and slammed a fist into Boothe’s shoulder.
“You ass!” she yelled, “What were you thinking?”
“Hey, it worked!”
“Because you got lucky! You must be the luckiest bastard who plays this game! What’s going to happen when the luck runs out, huh?”
“I don’t know,” Boothe said sheepishly.
“Just get me to that truck” she said, pointing to the vehicle with the huge speakers mounted to the side. “And try not to get us killed on the way.”
Throughout the fight, the bandit with the megaphone had been talking, though Boothe was unable to hear him often over the noise of battle. As they approached the vehicle, his words became clearer.
“This world belongs to Orion. Kill the intruders. They are the problem. They dropped the bombs. They had their chance and they ruined this world. Take it back! When they are all eliminated, Orion will give you everything you want. Orion is your God. Orion loves you.”
This close, every vibration of the speakers made Boothe’s head feel like it was going to pop. He wanted to reach up and cover his ears, but he couldn’t take his hands off the wheel. He navigated through the barrage of enemy fire, taking out a couple more vehicles with his miniguns and chainsaws as he approached the man with the megaphone. Then, when they were only a few feet away, Scarlett stood up and leapt onto the back of the truck where the speaker stood.
Boothe kept driving, unable to see what was happening behind him, but he heard it amplified a hundred times over the loudspeakers.
First there was a screech, then the familiar sound of metal crunching through bone. The jostling of the microphone banging against something. Finally, when a voice spoke again, it wasn’t the man with the microphone. It was Scarlett.
“You’re all going to die here, fuckers! Then Orion is next!”
4
For Boothe, the rest of the battle happened in a fog of blood and gunfire. He stayed inside the Falcon, away from most of the danger, and drove back and forth firing at any of the remaining bandits that he could target. He kept an eye on Scarlett to provide her backup, but it was not necessary. She moved through the battlefield in a blur, blasting away bandits with her shotgun, or slicing them with her axe. The mutant rhinos were all dead, most of the enemy vehicles were destroyed, and many of the bandits were fleeing back towards Dallas. Boothe could imagine the punishment that they would receive when Orion discovered that they had failed. They would likely be better off disappearing into the wasteland.
Eventually, the gunfire, explosions, and screams died down, then finally stopped. Hundreds lay scattered across what was once a parking lot and into the empty fields beyond. The smoking wreckage of dozens of cars, trucks, vans and motorcycles crackled and burned. The Palisades itself also burned - smoke poured from several holes that the rockets had blasted into it. The sprinkler system, which Boothe didn’t even know was active, sprayed water to kill the flames.
>
LEVEL UP!
Boothe reaches Level 13!
Ability point gained. Skill point gained.
Assign available points.
Boothe gained a level, but what had he lost? The Palisades were nearly destroyed and as for the Eagles - Boothe wasn’t sure if there were even enough left of them to continue on. They had lost so many. A few were wandering through the corpses, looking for their teammates. Looking for survivors.
Scarlett climbed into the passenger seat beside him and together they drove back towards the tower, trying to navigate around the corpses that practically carpeted the area.
“Braddock? Mariko?” Boothe said into his microphone. “You two still alive?”
“Still alive,” Braddock said.
“Me too,” Mariko added.
“I’m helping with the injured on the first-floor lobby,” Braddock said. “Let’s meet there.”
“Got it,” Boothe said.
Boothe drove up to the front entrance, not bothering to return the Falcon to the parking garage right now. He stepped out and started towards the entrance when Scarlett said, “Oh no.”
“Hello, [SCARLETT] and [BOOTHE],” Robert the robot said.
Caden’s body was draped over his machinegun arms. Blood oozed from a gaping hole in the old man’s chest. His face was pale, his breath was still. He was dead.
“I’m sorry, but [CADEN’S OUTPOST] is closed indefinitely.”
The robot walked into the building, carrying his owner. Boothe and Scarlett followed, tears in their eyes, and watched him lay the body at the end of a row of other corpses that had been placed on the right side of the lobby. Caden shouldn’t have ever come here. Should have stayed in Perry, in his well-guarded station, where it was relatively safe.
Boothe looked down the line of corpses and recognized a few others - people he had seen around the Palisades, but had never taken the opportunity to get to know. Lucas’ entire team, Laserdix, were there, lying side by side: Kreig, Masato, Cinder, and Jean Hackerman. He did not see Lucas himself though - either he had escaped, or was still laying out in that field somewhere.
At the end of the row of corpses lay Caustic. Mariko knelt over him, her helmet off and held in the crook of her elbow. She touched her fingers to her mouth, then pressed them against the tattoo on Caustic’s arm. A tear fell from her eyes onto his chest, before she coiled up her long black hair and covered her face with the helmet once again.
“You should give Foster a call,” Scarlett said.
“Yeah,” Boothe agreed. “I will.”
“Maybe we can get him another ticket,” she said. “Does anybody still have their extras?”
“You don’t have yours?” Boothe asked.
“No,” Scarlett sighed. “I sold it. They’re selling for like two-hundred dollars now. I needed the money.”
“Me too,” Mariko said. “Sorry.”
“Braddock?” Boothe asked.
“Let’s talk about it later,” Braddock replied hesitantly.
Abigail was directing a team of people providing first aid to the survivors. She marched between rows of cots, shouting orders and giving a helping hand where needed. Her suit was ripped and her hair was a mess – she had been fighting with the rest of her troops and it showed.
Boothe walked past Wulfa, who sat next to an injured man, applying a medkit to a gunshot wound on his leg. Her normally all-white clothing was stained with splashes of red. She gave Boothe a nod and said, “Glad to see you made it, new blood.”
“You too,” Boothe replied.
Down the line of injured Eagles, he saw Braddock leaning over another player, spreading some medical gel on the right side of the man’s face, which was burnt beyond recognition. His eye was missing from its socket, his ear was a deformed hole on the side of his head, and his mouth had nearly fused shut. When Boothe walked around to the left side however, he saw who it was.
“Lucas?”
“Oh, hey Boothe,” Lucas said in a raspy voice. “Don’t worry - I’m alright. Your buddy here is going to make me pretty again, aren’t ya?”
Braddock shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Lucas sighed. “Ah well. Chicks love scars though, right Scarlett?” He grinned at her with half his face.
“Sure, Lucas,” Scarlett said.
“We got them,” Lucas said, smacking Braddock on the shoulder. “My whole team died, and I got slapped with an ugly stick, but we got them, right?”
“Yeah we did,” Braddock said, then stood up. “I’ve done all I can do here. You take it easy, okay Lucas?”
“You got it,” Lucas said.
When they had walked away from him, Boothe asked Braddock “What happened?”
“There was a truck full of explosives that the bandits were trying to drive straight into the tower. Lucas and his team stood their ground, right in front of the truck’s path, and shot the hell out of it. They were only a few feet away from it when it exploded.”
“Geez,” Scarlett said. “So he really is a hero.”
“Yeah,” Braddock said. “They all were, in the end.”
Braddock sat down in one of the chairs in the lobby.
“Look,” he said. “About Foster. I understand that we want him to come back. I like the guy - I really do. But I can’t give him my ticket.”
“Why not?” Boothe asked.
“You’re asking me to give a two-hundred-dollar ticket to somebody I’ve never met,” Braddock said. “We’re all friends on here, but I don’t know who Foster is. Not well enough to give him a two-hundred-dollar gift. I could use that money. Hell, I could use the ticket. What happens if I die?”
“If you died, and I had a ticket,” Boothe said, trying not to yell. “I would give it to you.”
“I understand Boothe, and I appreciate it. I just can’t do it though. They’re too valuable. I’m sorry.”
Boothe felt like punching him. He knew that Braddock was right - how could he ask somebody he’d only known online to give up a valuable item like that for nothing? Still, it felt like a betrayal on every level.
“We don’t have time to power-level him again anyways,” Scarlett said, pointing around at the devastation around them. “We’re going to have our hands full for a while.”
Boothe shook his head, swallowing his anger.
“It just sucks,” he said. “He’s my friend.”
Wulfa approached them and sighed. “I’m all out of medkits,” she said. “We’ve used up the entire stock from upstairs.”
“Wow,” Scarlett said. “We’re kind of screwed if they attack again, huh?”
“Yes we are,” Braddock said. “I don’t know what we’re going to do from here.”
“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” Abigail said. She held her fist in the air and yelled, “We’re going to kill Orion!”
Interlude 11
Absent
As I was playing that night, I kept expecting the phone to ring. I thought Foster would call and we would laugh about his character’s death, complain about the unfairness of it all, and plan for what to do in the future. He never called though.
When I stopped playing - cleaning up the dead bodies that littered the area around the Palisades mostly - it was past midnight. Scarlett and I decided to forego our normal nighttime chats so that I could call Foster instead.
I dialed his number, the tone rang twice, then a woman answered with a groggy voice.
“Hello?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Can I talk to Foster?”
“Who is this?” the woman said, her voice growing angry. “Boy, do you know what time it is? No, you can’t talk to Foster. Don’t call here again!”
Then she hung up on me.
Great! I probably just got him into trouble. I hung up the phone and waited, staring at it, thinking that maybe Foster would call me back now. But he didn’t. I thought about calling Scarlett, but wanted to leave the line open in case Foster did decide to call.
Ins
tead, I laid there in bed, hoping the phone would ring, until I finally fell asleep.
The next day, Foster wasn’t at school. We shared our first class together - Pre-Cal - but his seat was empty. During the break after second period, I used one of the pay-phones in the hall to call his number, but nobody answered.
At lunch, his seat was empty as well. I sat with Splotch and Craig, but we were more quiet than usual. It felt awkward – Foster was the glue that held us all together. The dynamic didn’t work without him there.
“Have you guys heard from Foster?” I asked.
Craig shook his head. Splotch said “Nope.”
“Do you know where he lives?” I asked. “I might go by and check on him after school.”
“Yeah, I’ve been over there once,” Splotch said. “It’s a dump. He doesn’t let people come over much.”
Splotch wrote down a few directions and drew a crude map of how to get to Foster’s house.
“I don’t remember the exact number,” he said. “But this is the street.”
“Cool,” I said. “Hopefully I’ll be able to spot his car.”
After school, I followed Splotch’s hand-drawn map down streets that I’d never seen before, into a neighborhood full of run-down houses and overgrown lawns. Kids played soccer in the middle of the street. They grabbed their ball and moved out of the way as I approached. They stared at me as I drove past slowly, likely wondering who I was and why I was here. I wondered why they weren’t in school - it was barely past three.
Then I saw the yellow Beetle, parked in front of an old white house with red trim. A set of broken stairs led up to a front porch where a bench swing hung uselessly by one chain. The house looked better than most of the others in this neighborhood, but that wasn’t a contest that anybody would be proud of winning.
I parked in the street and walked through the overgrown front yard to the house. A cinder block had been placed next to the porch, to use as a makeshift step until the actual staircase was repaired. It looked like it had been broken for quite some time. I climbed up and knocked on the screen door. I wasn’t sure he would answer, though I thought I heard somebody moving around inside. A skinny black cat rubbed up against my leg and purred.
Apocalypse 2020: A Wasteland LitRPG Page 30