Apocalypse game, p.1
Apocalypse Game, page 1
Apocalypse Game
The Chessboard War (Book 1)
Grayson Sinclair
Copyright © 2021 Grayson Sinclair
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Dedicated to the LitRPG community, for without you, this book wouldnt exist.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1- Monday Morning Hell
Chapter 2- Tuesday Blues
Chapter 3- The Mantle
Chapter 4- No Shotguns in the Halls
Chapter 5- Carnival Beasts
Chapter 6- Vicious Pieces
Chapter 7- Grissom City
Chapter 8- Fire and Fury
Chapter 9- Crabfest
Chapter 10- The Charade King
Chapter 11- Fate and Fear
Chapter 12- Fort Alexander
Chapter 13- Mercenaries Wanted
Chapter 14- Digressing and Side Questing
Chapter 15- The Grind
Chapter 16- Depths of Depravity
Chapter 17- Truth and Reconciliation
Chapter 18- Much Bigger Fish
Chapter 19- Assault on Grissom Mall
Chapter 20- Where to Draw the Line?
Chapter 21- A Choice to Make
Chapter 22- Change in Management
Chapter 23- Eastbound and Down
Chapter 24- Midnight Jungle
Chapter 25- Into the Dark
Chapter 26- Overrun
Chapter 27- Yankee Stadium
Chapter 28- The Statue King
Chapter 29- The Archangel of the White
Chapter 30- The Demon Lord of the Black
Chapter 31- Kings in Check
Ending Stats!
Thank you for reading!
Other Books by me!
Chapter 1- Monday Morning Hell
The sharp scent of brimstone woke me. It burned in my nose and clung to the back of my throat with each breath.
I bolted upright in bed, my pounding heart thundering in my chest. My adrenaline spiked, and the rushing blood deafened me. I blinked my eyes open and scanned the darkened room but found nothing out of place. Yet the rotten stench still lingered and set my teeth on edge.
What the hell?
I climbed out of bed and glanced at my window. My dark curtains blocked most of it, but bright light spilled in between the gaps, bathing my room in twilight.
Panic rose in my chest again as I hastily grabbed for my phone.
What time is it? Did I oversleep?
I glanced at my too-bright screen and blinked away tears as they rolled down my cheeks and left salt on my lips.
It was just after three in the morning—the middle of the night.
Which begged the question.
Where the hell is that light coming from?
I climbed back onto my bed and pulled the curtains aside.
Outside my window, the world burned.
Flames rose from the skyline of Grissom City in the distance. Smoke curled from a thousand fires and blackened the sky. In the distance, horrid abominations flew. They flapped their massive, leathery wings as the burning city set the clouds aflame.
My mind failed to understand what I was seeing, and with shaky fingers, I pried the window open.
Only for my room to fill with the music of the damned.
Horrified and tortured screams echoed around me, far away and yet, like they were right next to me all at once. I clamped my hands over my ears to drown out the sounds and stumbled back as a wave of nausea roiled in my stomach.
I tumbled off the bed and rushed to the door, throwing it open.
A city street waited for me, littered with the dead and burning corpses of dozens, if not hundreds.
There was nothing for me to do but stare in abject horror at what I was seeing. For a long moment, I tried and failed to come to terms with the hell in front of me.
This is a nightmare. It has to be.
Please, for the love of all that’s holy, let it be an actual nightmare.
A light chuckle rose above the crackling flames, and movement from the corner of my eye caused me to turn.
There, a figure wreathed in smoke and darkness stood next to a shattered storefront before they strolled toward me. Their shadow stretched far behind them and danced in the flames.
Though they stood right in front of me, all I could make out was their shadow and two fiery points where eyes should be.
They chuckled again, but this time, it was a rolling, sibilant hiss that crawled over my skin like ants and sent goosebumps up my arms. My hair stood on end as the figure’s eyes met mine, and a ghastly grin settled over their mouth.
“She was right,” they said. “You’ll do just fine.” Their eyes burned, drowning out everything else as they held me transfixed. “Rise, my Demon Lord. We have much to do, you and I.”
As they spoke, a jolt of electricity slithered up my spine, and I gasped awake.
My eyes bolted open, and I stifled the gargled scream in my throat as the shrill tones of my alarm blared next to my ear.
I rubbed my eyes and groaned as I rolled over to pound my ringing alarm. The aged machine squealed as I smacked the button, and it stopped its incessant yammering, bathing me in blessed silence.
The last remnants of my dream faded with the dying note of the alarm.
What a strange nightmare. I groaned and yawned as I sat up. What was it about again? A fire. Something about a fire? Maybe.
I can’t remember. Shocking.
I could never remember my dreams.
As I sat up, I leaned over, pawing around my covers for my phone. It wasn’t on the bed, nor the nightstand next to my mortal enemy. I slipped my hand down the space between the wall and the mattress, and my fingers closed around cold metal. I pulled it up and hit the home button.
Nothing. Black screen.
Dammit. I forgot to plug it in before I passed out.
My face stared back from the dead screen. Shaggy, nearly black hair fell in a tangled mess across my face and into my eyes. I desperately needed a trim, and I brushed my hair away. My eyes came into focus. They were the palest blue I’d ever seen on anyone before, and in the sun, the blue seemed to fade into white.
I loved them. They were the one thing that made me stand out to people.
Certainly won’t be my skinny body or pasty skin. Need to hit the weights some more. I rubbed the last of the sleep out of my eyes and yawned. Ugh, I’m so going to be late.
Just as I was about to attempt the monumental task of climbing out of bed to get a shower, my door flew open without a care in the world.
“Hey, get up,” a soft voice said from my doorway.
As always, no matter the hour, Meghan looked perfect. Her school uniform was pristine, not a crease out of place. Her hair, the same shade as mine, was neatly brushed and pulled out of her tanned, heart-shaped face. Hell, even the silver necklace around her throat didn’t have a kink in its chain.
“I am up. Could you knock for once?”
Meghan laughed and hopped on the bed, pinning my legs under her. “You’ll have to take it up with management,” she said with a laugh.
“Dad?”
“Yep.” She beamed. “Breakfast is ready.” She paused and chuckled. “You look like hell. What time did you go to bed?”
“What time is it?”
“Almost eight.”
“Then about four hours ago,” I said, shifting my legs and sitting up as Meghan slid off me.
She narrowed her piercing blue eyes and gave me a playful shove. “You’re gonna collapse one of these days,” she said seriously before smiling. “Anyway, message delivered. And I oh so graciously saved you some hot water. You should get a shower before you’re late for school.”
Then she left, and I was back to my peace and quiet.
Too bad I can’t go back to sleep. I’ve got a test today.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and threw on a wrinkled shirt with the words ‘I’m a people person’ with a picture of Hannibal Lecter on the front. I headed to the bathroom and took a quick shower. Though five minutes in, the water turned to ice.
Really played fast and loose with the word some, didn’t you, Megs?
After getting out and dressed, I brushed my teeth and stared at myself in the mirror. I gave myself a second glance as I tried to pretend that the deep bags under my eyes and sparse five o’clock shadow gave me the rockstar on a bender look.
Before I even started down the stairs, the scent of waffles and bacon hit my nose and set my stomach rumbling.
“Gonna have to settle for a slice of toast in my mouth while I run out of the house screaming, I’m late, today,” I muttered as I hit the steps.
Nearly twenty picture frames hung along the wall as I descended. Eighteen years of family gatherings, vacations, and school pictures. Though nearly half were of Mom and her many award ceremonies.
I stumbled into the kitchen as Dad sipped his coffee, newspaper and marker in hand as he circled at random.
“Morning.” I yawned as I sat across from him.
He looked up for a second, his deep recessed eyes lighting as he ran a hand through his thick and dark head of hair. “And I thought I had a long night. Coffee?”
A mumbled groan of delight slipped from my lips, and he stood and made me a cup. He slid it to me across the worn oak table, spilling a heavy drip down the side of the porcelain. I added two creams and sugar to it and took a large gulp.
Perfection.
“Mom working?” I asked as I stood to grab some bacon.
“Yeah, the lab has her entire department on a tight deadline. She told me not to wait up for her for the next few nights.”
“Which means she won’t be home this afternoon,” I said around a mouthful of bacon and coffee.
He looked up with apologetic eyes and put down his newspaper. “You don’t mind driving Meghan to her game, do you?”
I sighed. “I gue─”
“He’d be delighted to take his wondrous little sister to her soccer game and watch her play,” Meghan said as she came into the dining room and threw her arm around me.
Dad and I looked at each other, and I held my hands up. “I’d be delighted to, apparently.”
Meghan laughed and snagged a slice of bacon from my plate, her eyes sparkling. “Not my fault you haven’t been to one of my games all season.”
“That’s because your team sucks,” I replied.
“Nu-uh, that was last year. Jennette joined this year, and she kicks ass.”
“Language,” Dad said without looking up from his paper. “I’ve got a few interviews early in the afternoon, but I should be back home well before game time.”
His mention of time caused me to glance up at the clock. I had ten minutes to get to class.
“Shit,” I muttered and jumped out of the chair.
It earned me the same disapproving scolding Meghan had gotten, but I was already in the living room by the time it registered. I threw on my windbreaker, snagged my backpack, and was out the door and on the porch, heading to the street.
Mr. Mitchells will skin me alive if I’m late again.
I hit the pavement at a jog, barely dodging an elderly couple walking.
“Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkens,” I shouted and kept running.
“Don’t break your neck, Killian,” Mrs. Wilkens hollered back.
“If only! Then I wouldn’t have to take my calculus test today!” I said, already turning.
A bracing autumn breeze whipped over my face and neck, and I zipped my jacket tight as I crossed the street. I was thankful I lived so close to campus, but I never relished the dead sprint I had to make almost daily.
Once I rounded the corner from my street, I took a shortcut through the pristine grass of the baseball field and hung a right by the chain-link fence that separated the regular world from higher education.
Grissom High School was like most under-funded schools throughout America.
Under-funded.
It sported a big white sign that held the school’s name in bold, embossed golden letters, but take two steps to the left and the actual school came into view. Rough and chipped brick walls, with a splattering of teenage graffiti and empty beer cans, lent it its rugged charm.
At least the windows weren’t busted out this month.
I darted through the obstacle course of students milling about while trying to dodge the loners smoking E-cigs and the skaters who were busting their faces trying to impress the cheerleaders. We had only a few minutes before the late bell, yet everyone was acting like they had all the time in the world.
Ignoring everyone else, I ran to my blue locker in a sea of blue lockers that rose from the garish orange linoleum flooring that seemed to never end. I grabbed my World History textbook and went to class. I plopped down in my seat a second before the bell rang and watched as, over the next four minutes, every other student meandered in.
Mr. Mitchells gave me a smile over the book he was reading and a withering glare to the rest of the class as they filed in one by one.
Over the next hour, he began where he’d left off last class. West Africa and the Mali Empire. He made learning enjoyable, but I was running on low sleep, and the heat in the room was too much for me to resist.
I passed out midway through class and only woke up when a sharp thwack rapped against my desk. I jumped as if bit by a spider and nearly flung myself out of the chair. A bolt of rich laughter came from the rest of the class as they chuckled at my expense.
Mr. Mitchells stood over me with a battered copy of War of the Worlds rolled up in his hands.
“Killian Dunn, how many times have I warned you about sleeping in class? Next time it happens, I’m marching over to your house at midnight and cutting the power cables. Maybe then you could get a decent night’s sleep!”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, stifling a yawn.
I kept my head up for the rest of class, trying not to let the desire to sleep win out once more.
The rest of the class went by quickly. Afterward, it was Calculus, and my test, which made me want to hang myself, and then I had English. Mrs. Hofstetter was a shrewd hag of a woman and the worst kind of grammar Nazi, but I shared the class with Omar, so it was bearable.
He nudged me while Mrs. Hofstetter went over the themes present in Great Expectations. I glanced up into his brown eyes. “Hey, what level did you get to last night?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“Fifty-seven, but keep your voice down. You know what’ll happen if she catches us talking.”
Omar’s eyes lit up at my number, but he, too, feared the wrath of the hag and turned to face the chalkboard. He picked at his thin, patchy beard and shot me glances every so often, clearly wanting to risk a lecture to talk to me about Oxide Online.
Class ticked by at a languid pace, but after an hour and a century, the bell rang, and it was time for lunch.
Omar followed me as we put our books up and went to the cafeteria to get in line for food. “Dude, you progressed three levels last night?” he asked, a wide grin on his face.
“Not only that, but I also upgraded the walls of our base to sheet metal. Now, anyone who tries to raid us will have a tough time of it.”
“No wonder you look like crap this morning.”
“Hey,” I said, feigning indignation. “Like you’re one to talk. You look like a zombie.”
“First off, that’s zombieist. You should be ashamed of yourself,” he said, laughing.
We both cut up as the line trickled by. I grabbed a stale hamburger and lukewarm fries, while Omar was brave enough to risk the lasagna.
I saved our seat while Omar grabbed our drinks, and we kept up our conversation until the clack of a third plastic tray interrupted us.
“Afternoon, guys.”
“Hey, Sarah. How was Physics?” I asked.
She sighed as she sat down, flicking an errant lock of curly brown hair from her forehead. “It’s Physics. I’m drowning in it.”
“Why did we sign up for advanced placement, anyway? I swear I’m just wasting my time here,” Omar said.
“Because we all bought into the great lie that our parents sold us,” she said. “I swear, I’m one bad day away from saying screw it, dropping out and starting a business where I can sit at home in sweatpants all damn day.”
Sarah’s face scrunched in disgust as she took a bite of her burger. Her upturned green eyes narrowed. “And I’m bringing my own lunch from now on.” She dropped the burger back on her plate and pushed it away, wiping imaginary crumbs from her retro T-shirt.
“Yeah, class is killing me. I barely have enough time to game for eight hours every night,” I said cheekily as I checked my phone before realizing it was still dead. “Either of you have a charger?”
Both shook their heads.
“Damn, but how else will I respond to my millions of followers? This is a tragedy.”
They both choked up and laughed.
“You count us and your sister as millions? Dude, are you sure you should be in Calculus?” Omar fired back.
I fought back a smile and ate my burger with about as much enthusiasm as Sarah.
“Maybe bringing lunch isn’t such a bad idea.”
“You know what is a good idea, though?” Omar asked, his eyes lighting up as he ran his fingers over his small chin. “Old school LAN party this weekend…you know, just with Wi-Fi instead.”
“The cabin?”
“You know it. What say you, Sarah? You in?”
