Turning away from the remains of the ship, Striker headed to the unit he was camping in for the night. A loud scream pierced the evening. Spinning around and drawing his sword, Striker saw a man on his hands and knees. Striker rushed over to Tolbert.
“Ow, that hurt,” Tolbert exclaimed, breathing deeply.
“What happened to you?” Striker asked, helping Tolbert to his feet.
“Not sure. One minute I was killing a troll and the next I am here,” Tolbert reported, staggering Striker caught him. “Wow, the headache is new.”
“Why don’t you come in off the street?” Striker prompted, guiding Tolbert to his camp.
“Thank you for your kindness,” Tolbert began, “lately I seem to be dying frequently, but recently I have made some progress.”
“I have been looking for you for some time,” Striker started.
“Really?” Tolbert responded. “Why would you be for looking me?”
“Something strange has been going on, and it is all focused on you. Every time we are in the same game the game feels real.”
Striker opened the door, and they both entered.
Tolbert collapsed onto the couch with a groan.
“I am Striker, and you’re Tolbert,” Striker informed Tolbert.
“How do you know me?” Tolbert sat up alert, his headache was forgotten. “And why were you looking for me?”
“Calm down,” Striker soothed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Well, you had better explain yourself,” Tolbert menaced.
Striker laughed. “Or what? You will kill me? With that sword, you have been dragging around? I have seen you fight; I could take you”
Both of them stared at each other. Striker tried to look non-threatening.
Pain racked Tolbert’s head and he broke eye contact with a wince of pain and settled back on the couch.
“Okay, fine, tell me why you are looking for me,” Tolbert said, resigned.
Striker launched into his story regaling Tolbert with how they had met on Dragon Hunt and how he had then been at several of Tolbert’s deaths and how when he had played with him the game had seemed real. When Striker finished, Tolbert launched into his own account of the events. Tolbert recounted to Striker how he would die and then end up somewhere else.
“One question remains,” Striker summarised. “Why is this happening?”
Tolbert shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t a clue. I have been suspecting that this is a convergence of three games that I play; Dragon Hunt, Space Traders, and Medieval Knight.”
“We need to find out,” Striker stated, opening his laptop computer on the desk.
“We have to find out who is doing this,” Tolbert concluded from across the room.
“Before I came after you, I did a bit of hacking, and I encountered a computer programme that was superb,” Striker explained. “I think that this computer programme might be the cause of it all.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Well, the virus defence on the files at Dragon Hunt was just too clever for its own good.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s hard to explain,” Striker paused, thinking. “It was like the anti-virus software was thinking.”
Tolbert gave Striker a blank look.
“It was like the computer wanted me to find your details,” Striker continued. “It was like it wanted me to come for you.”
“Don’t you think you’re grasping at straws?” Tolbert paused. Was it so bizarre after fighting through trolls and giant slugs in and around New York to think that all this was controlled by an Artificial Intelligence?
“Perhaps, but what else do we have?”
Tolbert shrugged. He didn’t know what to say.
“You want to keep on dying and waking up in random places for the rest of whatever life you have?”
“No,” Tolbert admitted. I really hope that Striker does not end up like the soldier earlier and just disappears after I die. Perhaps I need to stop dying.
“Well, how about we check it out and see if there really is an AI somewhere on the Internet and see where it leads?” Strikers fingers flew over the keys, as he set up a trace signal to find the location of this mysterious super programme.
Tolbert watched for a few minutes, not understanding any of the computer code on the screen. Then, yawning, he got up and wandered into the rest of the unit. Finding a bed, he fell asleep from tiredness that was deep within his bones.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
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Striker was so involved in the creation of his trace programme that he didn’t notice Tolbert leave. He worked well into the night. Once completed, Striker uploaded it to the Internet, a beautifully crafted piece of programming designed to be undetectable but to move effortlessly around the Internet. It was designed to seek out the source of the mayhem in New York. He stretched and sought out rest. He went into the other room and crashed on an empty bed.
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Tolbert awakened to find Striker raiding the kitchen, looking for food.
“Wow, I really needed to sleep,” Tolbert stated.
“Breakfast?” Striker asked, proffering a box of Lucky Charms.
“Thanks,” Tolbert said as he started to eat straight from the box.
“Last night we found the location of the programme,” said Striker.
“Really? Is it close?” Tolbert interrupted.
Striker laughed. “Yeah, it’s close. Odd thing is that it’s in the middle of Central Park”
“Weird place to put a computer, don’t you think?”
“Indeed, it is.”
“I am not sure exactly where we are at the moment,” Tolbert reflected, “Every time I come out, I am in a different place. Do we have far to go?”
Striker looked blankly at Tolbert for a second. “Not far at all.”
“When do we leave?” Tolbert asked, finishing off his cereal. A lightness suffused his chest. Could this all be over by the end of today? After all this, I am going to make some changes in my life.
“Let’s go,” Striker directed.
Striker and Tolbert collected their swords from the door and proceeded outside, stepping into the midday heat. A cold wind blew in from the north. The street an eerily quiet. The Central Park gardens were across the street.
“That is Central Park.” Striker pointed, with his sword at the vast expanse of trees and shrubs across the road from them.
Striker put his computer into his backpack and loaded the tracking signal on to his smartwatch that was tight on his left wrist. It was black with a simple leather band. It had a smooth face and an interactive display. He stepped forward and started towards the park. Entering through a small gate in the low wall they followed the path into the gardens.
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Heading deeper into the gardens, they came across a bunker built by the city zoo. Striker’s signal indicated that the programme was coming from inside the bunker.
A roar echoed from behind them. Turning they saw several trolls forming a line. Moving quickly around the troll’s legs were several dozen raptors.
“The only time I have seen this many trolls together was when there was a dragon leading them,” Striker commented.
“That’s like inviting a dragon to show himself. How could you be so stupid?” Tolbert spluttered.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a dragon landed on top of a tree. Giving way under its weight, the tree snapped into several pieces. The dragon flapped its wings and settled on top of the destroyed tree.
Several taps echoed from either side of the trolls and from the shrubbery five slugs emerged and a carpet of their accompanying beetles.
“Do you think that they will fight each other and leave us alone?” Striker asked drawing his sword.
Tolbert shook his head. “I very much doubt it.”
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The beetles moved in unison coming forward.
Striker and Tolbert moved quickly, stomping on the beetles.
The beetles encircled them. Tolbert swung an arc with his sword held low.
The beetles stopped and watched.
Striker noticed the beetles’ hesitation and stomped on several breaking the circle. Fighting alongside someone else is much better, at least if I die someone will know. The beetles rushed at Tolbert. Tolbert resumed stomping the beetles into the ground.
The raptors moved forward, they looked at Tolbert and Striker; as they moved they killed the beetles.
The beetles gave way to the raptors and backed off from Tolbert and Striker.
Striker and Tolbert took a breath, watching the raptors close in on them. Striker and Tolbert moved together and stood shoulder to shoulder; their swords raised as the raptors encircled them. Tolbert yelled a battle cry, ran forward sword outstretched, impaled a raptor. The raptor dropped to the ground as he withdrew his sword. Striker stepped after him and swung at another raptor in the circle killing it. Tolbert and Striker stood, swords at the ready, back to back. In unison, they stepped forward and each struck down a raptor.
As a raptor was brought down, another took its place.
Tolbert and Striker struck out and killed a raptor and then stepped back to the centre of the circle.
“This seems like a distraction,” Striker called, striking and killing a raptor.
“Yes it seems so,” Tolbert responded, stepping back and blocking a raptors strike. Together we can do so much more together we can survive and finish off this mad dream.
“We need to take a break for the door over there,” Striker continued, cutting down a raptor with a sideways counter-attack.
“Okay,” Tolbert affirmed, spinning and slashing off the hands of a raptor and slicing through the jaw of a second raptor. “You go and I’ll follow.”
“Good,” Striker agreed as he lunged and impaled a raptor. He then withdrew his sword and stepped over the dead body and continued towards the bunker’s door.
Tolbert turned and followed, slashing at a raptor attempting to flank them.
Breaking free of the encircling raptors, Striker and Tolbert dashed for the door. Striker yanked at the door. It was locked.
Tolbert stopped behind Striker, blocking a raptor swipe with the flat of his sword, “Can you open it?” he enquired, kicking down a raptor and then impaling it.
“No,” Striker replied, stepping up beside Tolbert, slashing at another raptor, and cleaving its head in two.
“Let me have a look at it,” Tolbert said, stepping back. “Cover me.”
Striker grimaced and wasted no time in killing another raptor with a swing of his sword.
Tolbert looked at the lock and identified it, a simple lock. He jabs his sword between the door jamb and the door, breaking the locking bar and opening the door.
“It’s open,” he called, stepping through the doorway.
“Where did you learn that?” Striker asked, backing through the door, following Tolbert.
“Misspent Youth,” Tolbert answered, closing the door behind them and bracing himself against the door. “This won’t hold them.”
A raptor bashed the door.
Striker cast his eyes around the dimly lit room. Next to the door stood a grey filing cabinet. Striker pushed the filing cabinet in front of the door.
Apart from the filing cabinet, a simple heavy desk sat in the middle of the room. Walls coloured an off white, unadorned, were covered with layers of dust. Another simple door stood on the far side of the room.
A couple more bashes sounded on the door.
Without speaking, they moved the heavy desk behind the filing cabinet. The room went quiet. Picking up their swords, they moved to the other door. Stepping into the next room they entered a computer server room, darkly lit and every available space covered with server banks. A narrow corridor of space separated the servers.
“Wow,” commented Striker, “A server farm in the middle of central park, who would have imagined?”
“Which one is the signal coming from?” Tolbert asked.
Striker checked his watch computer. A frown appeared on his face, “All of them,” he stated, looking up and about the room. “The signal is coming from all of the computers.”
On his smartwatch, a simple map of the room is covered by red flashing dots where the computers were depicted.