Dungeon Crawler Carl

by Matt Dinniman

  I never got to know Yolanda Martinez as much as I would’ve liked to.

  But I didn’t have to know her very well to know who she was. I knew she was a quiet, sweet woman who’d been a nurse her entire life. She’d worked sixty hours a week for years to pay for her son to go to college. Her husband had owned a landscaping company. At only 4’11, the woman had a presence much bigger than her stature suggested. There was a warmth about her, something I’d never felt as a kid. Just being in her presence imparted a feeling of longing in me, something difficult to describe. Like I wished I could relive my childhood, but this time, I’d have her as my mother, and she would have never, ever left me.

  When the apocalypse came for Yolanda, she didn’t once waver in her dedication to her patients. She was quick to laugh, quick to smile.

  And even though Yolanda Martinez was just as terrified as the rest of us, she stood her ground against a force she couldn’t possibly hold back.

  She lived her entire life as a hero. She died as one, too.

  One moment they were there, the next they were gone. Through the still developing cloud of confusing fog, the monster’s claws ripped forward, cutting through the nurse and the elderly man as if they weren’t even there. Yolanda’s body disintegrated in a red cloud of ribbon-like flesh like she was a knitted sweater that had been unraveled all at once.

  The monster didn’t even break stride, it came for us despite the fog. It swung a mighty claw just as I smashed down on Protective Shell.

  The monster flew back, as if it was a charging dog that had reached the end of its leash. The transparent, glowing, semi-circle shell spread around me, completely filling this section of the hallway, floor to ceiling.

  The rage elemental hissed and squealed with fury as it went flying back, skidding. It jumped up, charging again. Its badger head made it through the shield, but the moment its giant claws touched the force field, it rebounded yet again. It seemed the sharp tips of the monster’s claws couldn’t make it through the protection.

  “Holy shit!” I cried. I hadn’t expected that to work. “Run!” Donut leaped off my shoulder as I turned and rushed toward the others, who were struggling to get everyone into the safe room. The individual cars were too wide for the entrance. Imani and Chris were bodily pulling people off their chairs and tossing them into the open door.

  The round shield remained firmly in place, and I felt an odd pop in my ears as we left its area of effect. The spell was only going to last 20 seconds, and I’d already wasted five of them being dumbfounded.

  About halfway to the door, the ground disappeared underneath me. At least that’s what I thought had happened, at first. I fell, but I fell upward, crashing into the ceiling. A few feet in front of me, Donut flipped in midair, deftly landing upside down.

  In front of me, the very last train car flew upward, and the remaining resident—Mrs. McGibbons—cried out as she also slammed up into the top of the hallway, wheelchair crashing upon her like she’d been dumped face first down into a hole.

  My shoulder crunched, but I slammed a health potion before the pain could hit me.

  Gravity had been reversed. The elemental had cast the spell, but it hadn’t reached all the way to the safe room door. That last platform, connected by Imani’s magic chain, remained attached to the rest of the cars, and it dangled upward, having dislodged its only remaining rider.

  I didn’t look back. I pulled myself to my feet and kept running, but now I was upside-down, running on the ceiling of the hallway. We rushed toward the crumpled form of Mrs. McGibbons, who groaned and rolled onto her back, feebly pushing the wheelchair off herself. It rolled a few feet forward and reached the edge of the spell’s effect. It clattered to the ground. She opened her eyes, and upon seeing that she was now stuck to the roof of the hallway, she started to cry out in fear. Her health was deep in the red.

  “I got you,” I said, picking her up. I pulled her over my shoulder like a sack.

  Ahead of me, Chris and Imani were ushering the last of the residents into the room. I could see Brandon just inside the door, moving them out of the way. Imani was screaming Yolanda’s name.

  Donut took a step toward the door, and she plummeted off the ceiling, also having reached the edge of the spell’s effect. She, once again, landed easily.

  “Be careful, Carl!” she called up to me.

  “Get the wheelchairs, then get inside!” I cried as I pulled a health potion and shoved it in Mrs. McGibbon’s hand. “Drink this.”

  I anticipated where the line of gravity was, and I tried a desperate flip maneuver in an attempt not to be upside down when I fell. It didn’t work. I shielded the crying woman’s body as I landed, once again, in a painful heap on the ground right next to the wooden platform. I groaned and smashed down on my own Heal spell.

  Behind me, the rage elemental roared as the spell dissipated. It rocketed down the hall at us, claws raking up stones as it ran. It ran on its four back legs and reached forward with its two forward arms, which somehow made the beast seem even more horrifying.

  “Shit,” I scrambled to my feet. Donut hit it with another magic missile before turning and bolting toward the door. Chris and Imani pulled their last resident in.

  I ran. The ground shook as if a locomotive was bearing down on me. Ten feet. Five feet. One foot.

  I jumped at the door, banging into the frame and ricocheting inside just as the monstrosity’s forward claws swiped at me, missing by millimeters. It squealed in frustration, continuing its forward momentum as it slid down the hallway.

  I had a quick sense of déjà vu, of the goblin murderdozer also missing me by inches.

  I handed Mrs. McGibbons to Brandon, pulled a boom jug, and returned to the hallway. I lit and tossed it at the backside of the still-turning elemental before I jumped back into the room and slammed the door.

  We could hear the monster’s screams through the thick walls. It made a sound that was part pain, part rage, part the end of the fucking world. I knew there was no way I could’ve really hurt it, but I felt a wave of satisfaction at that horrific, penetrating sound.

  A moment later, the door pulsed, creaking worryingly as the elemental attempted to get in. It screamed and thrashed and pounded, throwing itself against the impenetrable door with all its might.

  “Jesus,” I muttered, reaching down to grab my legs. I closed my eyes, unable to get the sight of Yolanda and Randall out of my head. “Jesus,” I repeated, out of breath.

  I turned to survey the room. We stood in what appeared to be a dusty, no-way-they-passed-the-health-inspection chicken restaurant. Big Shot Chicken, the sign said. I’d never heard of it. A Bopca Protector stood behind the counter, looking distastefully at the large crowd.

  Mrs. McGibbons hadn’t taken the potion I’d given her, but she still clutched it in her hand. I watched as Brandon helped her drink it down. She continued to cry as her health rose.

  Most of the residents were on the ground, weeping for help. They’d been savagely tossed into the room. Imani, tears on her cheeks, was helping them one-by-one to the booths so they could sit and recover, administering healing potions to those who needed them. Donut had saved several wheelchairs, but there was no way we had enough now. Chris, his head low, turned to also help. Donut jumped to my shoulder, and her whole body was shaking.

  “Fucking Jack,” Brandon said, growling the words. “He knew. We explained it to him.”

  Zev’s message echoed in my head. This was a mistake. Helping these people. All we are doing is hindering our own training and delaying their inevitable deaths. It would’ve been kinder to have left them on the first floor rather than subject them to this terror.

  I looked up at the screens.

  Time to Recap Episode: 1 hour 40 minutes.

  Time to Level Collapse: 4 days, 20 hours.

  Remaining Crawlers: 1,033,992

  “You saved me,” Mrs. McGibbons said, sitting up on the floor. Ninety-nine years old. I didn’t think I’d ever met anyone that ol
d before. Not a human, at least. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  I smiled weakly. “Of course,” I said.

  “Jack was always an ass,” she continued. She made a clucking noise. “Poor Yolanda. She was such a good kid. And Randall. Dumb as a pigeon, that one. But he deserved better than that. At least it was quick.”

  “Do you think it’s gonna leave?” Donut asked.

  Behind me, the door continued to smash and rock under the onslaught of the screaming rage elemental.

  39

  Views: 212 Billion

  Followers: 4.4 Billion

  Favorites: 793 Million

  The recap episode started with a close-up shot of Jack’s purple, veined, and uncircumcised dick, huge on the screen. The headline screamed, “Trapped! Meadow Lark and The Royal Court of Princess Donut in Peril!”

  “Wow,” Donut said. “Yours isn’t nearly that big. Or oily looking. And it doesn’t have that hat thing.”

  If looks could kill, the glare Imani shot at the cat would’ve ripped her in two.

  “Goddamnit, Donut,” I muttered before realizing I’d said it. “Not now.”

  The screen showed, in slow motion, Jack pulling it out, turning to the wall, and peeing. It switched to Yolanda’s horrified face, then Donut leaping for him, claws out. It showed the arrow piercing him right in the temple, of the player-killer skull icon slowly starting to form over Yolanda’s head, and then the man falling from the platform.

  “I can’t watch this,” Imani said, getting up and turning away.

  A “See what happens next!” appeared on the screen. Then the show started. As promised, it was a compilation of people getting surprised by bosses leaving their rooms. I noted two different scenes with Krakaren bosses. The shots kept coming and coming, of people getting slaughtered.

  I eased back in the chair and took a bite of fried chicken. A part of me registered that the food was downright delicious, but I could barely taste it. Donut sat at the table being lovingly groomed with her new brush by the Bopca Protector. The constitution buff had activated many minutes earlier, but she demanded he keep brushing.

  This safe room, like the first one we’d visited, had 20 rooms for rent. They were still free on the second level. People slept in all twenty of them.

  Outside, the rage elemental continued to scream and smash at the door. It hadn’t let up, not for one second. The thing seemed to have an endless supply of energy.

  I already had a plan on how to deal with it. I’d discussed it over chat with Donut. I’d have to wait at least a full Syndicate standard day—another 28 hours—before we’d be able to do it. That was how long the cooldown for my Protective Shell spell was.

  The problem was, this plan required us to abandon team Meadow Lark. Not just the elderly folks. All of them. I sighed, unable to concentrate on the show.

  Zev disappeared off the chat after the skirmish in the hallway. Donut, who’d apparently been chatting with her non-stop, was worried about the kua-tin. I didn’t care. I was dreading our obligation to go on this talk show. We’d have to go onto the show before we left here.

  A wave of grubs descended upon us. I didn’t know what was going to happen once they reached the hall with the rage elemental. I was hoping perhaps they’d distract the creature, cause it to wander off. I suspected we wouldn’t get that lucky, but I had hope. Looking at the map, I guessed we’d find out just as the show ended.

  Donut and I both received a pair of achievements after our fight with the rage elemental.

  New achievement! What goes up...

  You have been struck with and survived the dreaded Reverse Gravity Spell. Well, you fared better than Albert II, the first earth mammal to reach space alive. He was a rhesus monkey, in case you’re wondering. He went up just fine. He didn’t stick the landing.

  Reward: You can now tell people you’re more durable than a monkey named Albert.

  New achievement! Like a Moth to the Flame.

  You attacked and caused damage to a mob that is more than 75 levels above your own. The fact that you’re reading this suggests you’re the luckiest fucker in the dungeon. Just remember, luck goes both ways, like your mom.

  Reward: You’ve received a Platinum Lucky Bastard Box!

  Both of us received a similar item in the platinum box. It was a lottery scratch-off ticket, just like any scratcher ticket one could buy at a gas station or a liquor store. The tickets themselves were different. Donut’s was red and green and had a small graphic of a troll-like creature throwing gold coins in the air. It was called Dungeon Gold Rush. She had six spots to scratch off. She immediately moved to scratch it, but received an error message telling her she couldn’t use the ticket in a saferoom. I made her hand it over so I could read the description.

  Dungeon Gold Rush!

  Scratch off one spot, and depending on the symbol revealed, your next attack against a mob will have varying effects! Guaranteed laughs! One hour cooldown between scratches.

  I flipped the little cardboard ticket over, and it revealed about twenty different symbols. Most of the results were good, like Mob drops 5,000 coins or Damage against Mob is doubled. But a few of the symbols offered some not-so-good choices. Like Mob splits in two. Or Mob is invulnerable for 30 seconds.

  “Yeah, don’t use this,” I said. “Not until we talk about it some. The last thing we need is you scratching off a symbol that’ll quadruple the next mob’s strength.”

  The cat sighed. “Or, I can scratch off a symbol, and I will get 5,000 coins, Carl. Why must you always be so pessimistic?”

  “Donut. Like it said, luck goes both ways. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Fine,” she said. I placed the ticket in front of her, and she huffed as it disappeared into her inventory. “What does yours do?”

  My ticket was the same size, but it only had five spots to scratch off. It was red on one side and pink on the other. A small, cartoon dragon sat in the corner, holding a spoon. The dragon’s tongue was out, licking its lips. I read the description.

  Fireball or Custard?

  Scratch off a spot in the midst of battle, and this zany ticket casts a spell at the closest red-tagged mob! Each spot has a 50/50 chance. Will it cast a level-15 Fireball? Will it cast a glob of delicious, healing Strawberry Custard? Who knows! Either way, the results will be a hoot! Thirty minute cooldown between scratches.

  “I love custard!” Donut cried after I showed her the ticket. She looked up at the Bopca Protector, whose name was Qwist. “Get me custard.”

  “Yes, Princess. Right away, Princess. What flavor?” the Bopca asked.

  Donut had finished the custard by the time the show premiered. She’d chosen strawberry, turned her nose up at it, and went with a vanilla. We watched now as the disaster porno half of the show ended and the next part started. It was nothing new. The African warriors had finally run out of ammo. Several were using their AK-47s as clubs, but a few now had bows and arrows or swords. Lucia Mar was tearing her way through the dungeon. She had four player-killer skulls by her name now, but they didn’t show why or how that had happened.

  Interestingly, I noticed for the first time that neither of her rottweilers had any skulls or stars by their names. It was because they were pets, I realized. Donut had originally been listed as a pet, but she’d transformed into a crawler early on. Weird.

  The crossbow-firing Valkyrie woman and her ever-growing crowd of female warriors were also killing their way through the dungeon. They’d named their group Brynhild’s Daughters. The woman’s name was Hekla, and the announcer gave a short history of her home country of Iceland. The AI was throwing loot at her to emphasize the Nordic shieldmaiden persona she was forming, including a ridiculous, glittering breastplate that seemed more apt for the cover of a harem fantasy novel than appropriate dungeon armor.

  “She’s amazing,” Donut whispered. “We should hook up with her group.”

  “Something tells me I wouldn’t be too welcome,” I said.

  The
show ended with a short description of the issues with the bathrooms and some bullshit explanation why they had been forced to implement the rage elemental trap.

  “Yeah because piss is worse than blood and guts and whatever that is that comes out of the grubs,” I said.

  It replayed the scene from the beginning of the episode with Jack whipping it out. It continued, showing Yolanda’s death in gruesome, slow-motion detail. It showed me flying up to the ceiling, then hopping to my feet and running upside-down, Matrix-style. Then me picking Mrs. McGibbons up and making it into the room with a millisecond to spare. I jumped out of the room brandishing the boom jug.

  The show paused, showing the recipe of the Carl’s Jug O’ Boom. My mugshot appeared briefly with Added to the Dungeon Codex stamped over it.

  The scene resumed, showing me tossing the jug at the back of the monster before slamming the door. Its health plummeted almost 25%. The six-legged, black badger skull thing screamed, momentarily stunned by the attack. It took a good ten seconds before it recovered, jumping up and resuming its attack against the door. It shrieked in ear-splitting fury as it healed itself. The healing moved much more slowly, I noted, thanks to the napalm-like effect of the boom jug.

  It ended with Donut saying, “Do you think it’s gonna leave?”

  The show snapped off, and nobody said anything.

  “He really did have a weird-looking dick,” Chris said after a moment.

  Imani walked up to him, wrapped her arms against the large man and started laughing and crying at the same time.

  Hello Crawlers,

  Short message today. The dungeon is humming along nicely. Thanks again for your support. We have a lot of interest already in the new patron-bidding program. So please keep up the good work!

  We have a few changes to announce.

  If you’ve watched the recap episode that just aired, you can see our penalties regarding the bathrooms have been a rousing success. The penalties will remain in place for the remainder of this floor, but I’m happy to announce they will be removed upon the collapse of this floor. Thank you everyone for your cooperation.