Apocalypse Gates
Book 1:
Rapture
Author’s Cut
Daniel Schinhofen
In loving memory to my Grandma Terry.
She always told me to follow my dreams.
It was a little late for her to see it, but I did as she told me too.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons,
places, or events is coincidental.
© Copyright 2017 by Daniel Schinhofen
All rights reserved.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Alvin groaned as his eyes twitched. His hands came up to clutch at his head, which felt like it had been smashed open. Face scrunched up in pain he rolled to his side, his legs curling up into a fetal position. After a minute the pain began to subside, going from death inducing to a simple headache. Sighing in relief, he blinked his eyes open to see a smooth grey wall in front of his face.
He tried to figure out where he was. His apartment didn’t have grey walls, which meant he was not in his bed. Sitting up, he looked around. It didn’t take long, as he was in a ten-foot square room. He was lying on a solid block made out of the same grey material as the wall. A few feet away was a stainless-steel toilet and sink combination, just like he was used to from jail.
“Where the fuck am I?” he muttered as he looked up at the ceiling. The single light source above him seemed to be a recessed circle. He couldn’t make out a bulb even when he tried squinting at it.
“Revival process successful, test subject four thousand six hundred and forty-two has been revived. Welcome to your new life.” The voice seemed to come from all around Alvin, who jerked in surprise as he looked wildly around to find the source. “You are about to undergo the tutorial period. You may ask a few questions before we start.”
“Where the hell am I and what the fuck is going on?”
“The standard ones it is.” The voice was that of a bored technician. “You are in our virtual lab. Your brain was scanned and uploaded into our network thanks to court order Debtors v. Cryogen. You are now our property, and we plan to make money off of you. As for what is going on, you will be thrown into a virtual world to ‘play’ a game. The better you do, the more experience you gain, which you can use to upgrade yourself and your gear. You only get a single life to start with, so don’t die.”
“Wait, are you saying that I died and my brain was put on ice?” Alvin asked, trying to recall if he had ever signed up for that.
“In the year 2020, you signed up to have your brain cryogenically frozen upon your death. You paid in full, to the company Cryogen, for them to keep your brain until such time that science could provide you a new body. A year later you died. Your Will was followed and your brain frozen. However, Cryogen, after many years of bad business, went bankrupt and had to dispose of their debts. The courts ruled that the brains not collected by family members could be sold to other companies for medical experiments due to a sub-clause in the contract you signed. Therefore, you are now our property. Huzzah for you.”
“So, I died, my brain was stored, then sold to you and now you want me to play a death game?”
“Basically correct. You will be recorded as you struggle to survive. Those who give us entertaining video that we can sell will receive bonuses. Your other option is to do nothing and die once you enter the tutorial. Your choice, live or die. Good luck.”
White light enveloped Alvin, momentarily blinding him. When he got his sight back he was on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere. Across the street was a small stopover place. He could see a convenience store with a single gas pump, a motel and about another dozen buildings behind them. A blue screen appeared before him, seeming to hover in the air. He read the information, his eyes wide as he tried to take it in.
Welcome to Apocalypse Gates!
You have begun the tutorial. To complete the tutorial, survive for 24 hours.
Experience will be rewarded based on your actions! Good Luck!
Alvin tried to touch the box, but as soon as his hand passed through it, the screen vanished. “Holy fuck, it is like a game,” he breathed out. He had been a decent gamer before his death, but he wasn’t sure if any of it would be helpful here. “How do I call up my status screen?”
Another screen appeared before him. This one showed a three-dimensional image of him along with a slew of numbers and other information.
Alvin Leon Lambert
Human (0 experience)
Brawn 3.31
Nimbleness 5.23
Aptitude 4.69
Personability 2.23
Hardiness 3.79
Spells:
Powers:
Frowning, he tried to touch the Brawn stat. A short description appeared next to it, along with a second pop-up telling him about stat averages. He read it and then the others to get a better idea of what they did.
All stats are out of a 10-point maximum for humans. Average is 3.5, Olympic level is 7.5.
Brawn: Your physical strength. This determines how much you can carry, how much extra damage you do in melee and your chance at breaking things. Joe Average, that’s about you in this category.
Nimbleness: Your physical agility. This stat determines how flexible you are, how quick your reflexes are, how easily you can move each part of your body. Used for all hand-eye coordination tasks as well as your ability to dodge. Those years of being a bad boy are paying off here, aren’t they?
Aptitude: Your mental prowess. The stat is used to help you figure out complex puzzles or other mental gymnastics. Smart enough to know what you can do and what to walk away from, good thing huh?
Personability: Your personal magnetism. This stat helps you influence people based on physical looks and personality. Gods, you really are a prick, aren’t you?
Hardiness: Your physical body. This stat represents your physical stamina, dictating how much you can push your body before fatigue sets in. Also affects how much damage each part of your body can take before it is rendered disabled or destroyed. Maybe this is how you survived all those beatings?
Alvin mulled over his stats and couldn’t find fault with them, except for the snark. If he had been put into a game, they would be about right. His Personability was really bad, he knew he was an asshole, he didn’t need it pointed out to him. He had always been quick to learn things and he had picked his fair share of pockets when he was younger. That explained his Aptitude and his Nimbleness stats to his satisfaction.
He glanced at the buildings across the road, then looked to the west as the sun was slowly sinking behind the distant hills. He looked back at the buildings, noticing they didn’t have any lights on and a cold chi
ll ran over him. ‘Apocalypse Gates… I wonder what kind of apocalypse?’ he wondered as he stared at the buildings.
He checked the road again, just to make sure no cars were speeding at him. Not seeing any dangers, he crossed the street, his hands brushing against his jeans as he walked. Blue jeans, white t-shirt and sneakers, was all he had to start with. A quick search proved there was nothing in his pockets. It also proved that his sense of touch was just as sharp as he was used to.
No lights were on in the gas station, but he still tried the door, finding it unlocked. His palms tingled for a second as a rush of old memories from his younger days came to him. It would be so easy to take whatever he wanted from here. The register would probably crack easy enough, plus he suddenly felt a need for a drink and snack.
“Hello, is the store open?” he asked as he pushed the door open. He paused with the door open to listen, but no return greeting came. He did smell the scent of blood in the air, blood and offal. He hadn’t smelled that for years, and hadn’t missed it in the least.
He entered the building, licking his lips as a pulse of fear washed over him. The counter was just a few feet away. He stepped quietly over, peeking over it. He swallowed against the sudden bile in his throat. The dead body sprawled behind the counter was not a pretty sight. The multiple gun shots to the torso, large caliber handgun exit wounds, clearly visible as the body was face down.
Looking away, he tried to push down the rush of memories that came to him. He half noted the open register with a sigh. He would be fine as long as he didn’t leave prints all over. He just wanted to grab some water and a snack before getting out.
Turning away from the counter, he crossed to the fridge doors. Electricity had been off for a while from the feel of it, as the doors didn’t radiate the cold as they normally would. Using his shirt, he opened the door and grabbed a bottle of water. As he did, a hand shot forward from behind the bottles, just missing his shirt as he jerked backwards.
“Fuck,” Alvin shouted, slamming the door shut as the rack behind the glass began to rattle. Turning, he ran down the aisle, grabbing a bag of jerky as he went by. Just as he made it to the front, the clerk with the gunshot wounds lurched to its feet. “Fucking zombies!? Really?!”
He dashed out the glass door, taking a left and running for the motel. The sun had sunk lower, casting long shadows that stretched out. Alvin glanced towards the motel and had a bad feeling about it. He needed something to use as a weapon. The motel was a bad choice as they were unlikely to have any weapons. There weren’t any cars out front of the place, which would mean no guests. He paused as he debated whether the motel or the houses would be the better place to search.
He looked back at the store just as the glass door pushed open and the clerk came stumbling out. Teeth gritted in anger at being pursued, Alvin decided it would be better to check the houses. He would need to hope that somebody had a weapon. Turning down the side street between the motel and station, Alvin started to jog as he ripped the top off the water.
He took a big gulp, his eyes scanning for movement as he went. His steps slowed as his brain nudged him about something that was out of place. None of the houses he could see had vehicles. Nothing parked in any driveway, and most didn’t have garages. It was just wrong for there to be such a lack.
“Fucking game,” he growled as he ripped the bag of jerky open and stuffed a few pieces into his mouth. “You fuckers are just sick,” he muttered, thinking of whoever was behind this setup.
“Think Al, think,” he said to himself. “You just need to survive. Trying to hole up in a house might work but probably won’t. That is where most probably go wrong trying to survive the first day. What I need to do is get away from the dead, but at least two are aware of me.” He looked back again, seeing the two zombies from the gas station still following him at a slow shamble.
“Good news, they’re slow. Bad news is they probably don’t stop. Why am I talking to myself?” Alvin clamped his mouth shut as his brain finally kicked into gear. A weapon would be nice but he didn’t need one technically to survive, he just needed to not die. Staying where corpses were after him while he was unarmed was a bad idea. Going for a walk down a deserted road at night wasn’t a great idea either.
He passed the first four houses, thinking it likely the sick fucks who made this game probably put zombies in them, more than in the other houses. He picked the sixth house and went to the front door. He twisted the knob, to find it locked. He ground his teeth, wishing he had a set of picks on him. Shaking his head, he noticed a bit of baling wire next to the door. He grabbed it then knelt down next to the lock, working the wire into the lock. This was a horrible idea, but it was that or hope he could kick the door in.
The door unlocked easily enough and he quickly opened it to step inside. He sighed in relief, but then his eyes widened as he heard sounds coming from the closest houses. “Fuck,” he hissed, he needed to search the place quick and get out.
He wasn’t going to rush, though, as there might be someone or something home after all. Nothing moved nearby so he stepped into the house fully. TV, sofas, pictures, just like any house you would expect.
If the homeowner had a gun it would probably be in the bedroom. He glanced into the kitchen. Thankfully, it was empty. He approached the door to his left, which was closed. He checked the knob, it turned easily in his hand. He thrust the door open and stepped back, just in case a zombie was there. His heart wound down after a few seconds when nothing lurched out at him.
The sun set, bringing darkness to the land and to the room he was in. Cursing silently, he squinted into the room, not seeing anything suspicious. Under the bed first, then the closet he decided, maybe the nightstand if he was looking for a pistol. He went to the bed, dropping to his knees and praying that nothing would bite him as he stuck his hand under the bed.
Carpet and a box, so he dragged the box out. Adult magazines along with a vibrator. He tossed the box back under the bed and pulled the nightstand open. More complicated toys along with a set of furry leather cuffs. Figures he would find the kink house, he mentally sighed as he shut the drawer.
As he got back to his feet he could hear movement from outside the house. Grimacing, he went to the closet, opening it, pitch black greeted him. ‘Fuck’, he silently cursed as he needed a flashlight. He slid his hands along the walls just in case. He found a length of wood and grabbed it as nothing else was there besides clothes.
He left the darkness and went back into the main room just as a zombie came stumbling into the house. Alvin looked at the hockey stick in his hand, now being able to see what he had grabbed. Not great, he thought, as he stepped into the kitchen. A back door was visible so he went to it, throwing the locks before stepping out into the night.
As he exited the house, movement to his left caught his attention, he jabbed at it with the stick. That was enough to fend off the lunge from the moaning figure wearing a maid outfit with a set of snapped cuffs on her wrists. Her throat had been cut open, but the blood that had cascaded down her front was dry.
“No means no, lady,” Alvin grunted as he shoved the zombie back a step with the hockey stick, then turned and ran for it. Cursing, he realized he left his water and jerky in the house. He’d set them down by the bed.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Alvin cussed as he knew he should head back to the station to grab another set. Then he should start walking down the road. There were too many zombies in this small podunk stopover.
He headed for the store again, detouring around a group of three zombies that were lurching down the street. He was thankful they moved at the speed of a slow walk, it would be easy to outdistance them at least. They weren’t ‘28 Days Later’ fast zombies, thankfully. If they had been, he would have been fucked.
After the detour, he made it back to the store. He grabbed water and jerky again, not caring about prints. Who would care about petty theft, when there were zombies around? As he made it back out of the store, he looked down the
street towards the houses. He could make out a dozen figures shambling towards him.
“Adios, you undead fucks,” Alvin snarked, as he started down the road at a trot. With jerky in his pocket, water in one hand and hockey stick on his other shoulder, he thought he might have a chance to beat the tutorial.
After ten minutes, he settled into a walk and took a drink. The moon came up, illuminating the landscape for him. Vaguely Great Plains States, is what it looked like to him, definitely not a desert, or a forest, or mountains.
“I’m in the middle of nowhere, with zombies behind me and who knows what the fuck else ahead of me.” Alvin paused, taking a seat on the road. He would hear a car long before it got close to him. He took the jerky from his pocket, eating it while washing it down with sips of water. “Maybe three hours into the twenty-four. I can stay up for a full day, that won’t be an issue. Getting a little thirsty and hungry won’t be bad either.”
He sat there letting the slight breeze blow over him as he looked around. Fall weather, it was slightly chilly but at least he didn’t have to worry about freezing. He could wait for a few hours to see if zombies showed up. If not, he was fine. If they did, he could just loop around them and go back to the podunk. Maybe he could find a flashlight and search a bit more.
Rapture (Apocalypse Gates Author's Cut Book 1) Page 1