The Long Way Down (Preview) (Patreon)

This story is one of the candidates for my next story. I don't actually plan of working on something new for a few months, but sometimes I need to start something just to get it out of my head. 

The Long Way Down is meant to be a fast-paced thrill ride of a story, so it's pretty unlike some of my other projects. It would be an AR death game in the style of Running Man or Squid Games where people that are down on their luck fight to stay alive. 

In a perfect world it would feel like one long action sequences with 1500 word chapters, and just enough breaks to let the antihero protagonist plot/scheme and explore the system powers associated with the game before we are on to the next. 

Both it and The Garden Path would be about 120k words, so either one would be a commitment, but still shorter than any of my current projects. So, we will see. My main goals are still increase patreon chapters, then work on covers and maps for a bit, but sometimes you just can't get these things out of your head until they're on paper, you know?

(Italicized text in the story is in little blue boxes, but Patreon doesn't support tables.)

Ch. 1: Falling Faster

Congratulations! You are dying! You have 117 seconds to—

Cameron swiped away the notification with a flick of his eyes while he staggered down the alleyway. He moved as fast as he could without letting go of the sodden rag that kept him from bleeding out. He noticed with annoyance that even though the window had disappeared, the countdown stayed behind, like an artifact in his vision.

He ignored it. He had bigger problems, like how you could only move so quickly while applying pressure to a knife wound in your gut from a smash-and-grab gone wrong. The last thing he needed right now was some shitty ad trying to get him to sign back up for his lapsed health insurance. Not while Raz and his thugs were on the hunt for him.

Given that the big man had stabbed him when he’d grabbed the drugs, it was shocking that he’d even gotten this far, honestly. He’d only managed it by emptying half a clip of his cheap poly bullets from his even cheaper 3D-printed gun into the group of the man’s thugs to scatter them. They’d obviously taken issue with Cameron ripping off their boss after the thick roll of counterfeit cash wrapped around a small pipe bomb detonated early, taking off Raz’s hand in the process.

114.

113.

If they hadn’t thought he was packing a grenade launcher after that little trick instead of this half-melted POS that was sure to jam the next time he let loose, he’d already be a dead man.

They were hunting for him now. He could hear the whir of their electric cycles on the surrounding streets and the sound of bins being knocked over in the intersecting alley. As long as he was in their territory, no one would even try to help him, not that people would be much more helpful the next block over either.

109.

Stumbling down the narrow alley, he could see the Rider’s tags prominently in lime green on the sea of older graffiti that showed he was still on their turf. They might not follow him into Metalhead’s territory if he could get two streets over, though. From there, he could cut across to the mall, where there was an emergency room. Maybe he could…

Cameron stopped as he realized his plan had way too many ifs for his liking. Even if the rent-a-cops didn’t take an interest in the bleeding man with the gun and the baggie full of doublesynth, he didn’t like his odds when the clinic receptionist checked his credit with the thumb scanner. People behind plexi that thick were heartless and cared even less if a man lived or died than Cameron did.

“Focus, motherfucker,” he chastised himself as he almost tripped over a passed-out junkie in his hurry to reach daylight on the other side. Just one quick dash across the street and another alley and—

Today you’re lucky contestant #999. For the next 105 seconds you—

Cameron killed the pop-up again, unsure how so many of these were getting past his firewall all of a sudden and why the timer stayed even after the ad was dismissed. It had to be some new zero day because his shit was bulletproof. It should still be anyway. Until he’d had to sell his rig to feed his growing habit, he’d been a damn good coder.

That was before he’d taken the long slippery slide to rock bottom over the last three months. No matter how much he’d scorched his synapses, that shouldn’t affect his software, though.

101.

Something weird was going on as he watched that timer tick down while he approached the end of the alley to take a little look around.

100.

99.

Just as he was about to peek out from behind the corner, another box blocked his vision, making him pull back. This one was the same as the other two, but it was stubborn and went nowhere, no matter what he did to try to purge it.

Congratulations! You are invited to Death Toll, The most popular show on the dark web for the last eight seasons. Though you are free to decline this offer, please note that if you continue hiding, your dealer’s gang will find and murder you in 98 seconds, and if you run that falls to 43 seconds.

“Death Toll?” he whispered as he crouched down behind the heavily tagged garbage bin. He might have seen pieces of it on the streams, but he’d never watched it had he? It was supposed to be some kind of game show that involved killing people. That’s all he knew.

“What the fuck does a game show have to getting out of here?” he asked himself.

It’s quite simple Mr. Dieb. We can’t take your life in front of our viewers unless we save it here. Would you rather be beaten to death in an alley for C800 of low grade narcotics, or would you rather risk it all for cash and prizes? You have 86 seconds to decide!

With a thought Cameron called up a search on Death Toll. He had no idea if this thing was for real. It seemed more likely that was a malware trap and trace for his location, but he knew that Raz had no one with those skills because he’d been that son of a bitch’s tech guy for months.

On the MainNet the term brought up page after page of articles discussing arrests linked to the show, along with a few screen grabs, and GIFs of the busty hostess. There was nothing concrete, though, and nothing that would stop that timer either.

74.

73.

Cameron wished there was someone he could call to ask about this thing, or that he could do a search in one of the restricted subnets. He was out of friends and secure nodes, though, because a lifetime of goodwill had been used up, and his accounts had been terminated.

In the end he decided that the real danger was waiting here until he bled out.

“This has to be bullshit,” he said, as he pulled himself to feet and consciously ignored the ticking timer. “I’m getting the hell out of here.” Nothing he could do would make it go away, but nothing could make him listen to it either.

69.

Cameron lurched forward, looking left and right as he searched for people that wanted him dead and gaps in the traffic. 114th street wasn’t too busy, and normally it would have been the easiest thing in the world to run between all the cars on autopilot, but today he was somewhat slower because he was dying.

66.

65.

He saw no threats, as he moved to the edge of the sidewalk. Then suddenly, before he even saw a problem, he saw the black numbers of the annoying timer in his vision turn red as it plummeted.

64…56…49…41…32…21…9…8.

Cameron had a single instant to wonder what had happened when he heard someone yell. “Hey! Over here! I found him on 114th!” Everything happened at once after that.

The number continued to fall inexorably as danger closed in on him from all sides. The man with a length of steel pipe that had been yelling was running toward him from the left now. And somewhere behind him, he could hear the sound of electric cycles from the alley getting closer.

7.

He turned to his right, prepared to bolt that way, so he could lose his pursuers in the mess of tents and cardboard homeless shelters that took up most of the sidewalk, but there were two more gangbangers sporting the unmistakable green color he desperately needed to avoid coming from that way too.

6.

“Alright, I’ll fucking do it!” Cameron spat finally, realizing he was completely out of options. “I’ll be on your fucking show!”

5.

Excellent news! Our hosts will be pleased. Please click here to accept our terms and conditions and cross the street precisely as the timer reaches zero.

Note: Any delay in following instructions could lead to the contestant's death. Contestant #999 shall be deemed ineligible for compensation related to their untimely demise until they attend the first episode. Failure to attend the first episode or any subsequent episodes after agreeing to the contract will also result in their untimely demise.

3.

Cameron didn’t read shit after that. Reading was for later, if there was a later.  He just clicked Yes and I agree on every pop up that followed while the noose to draw tighter, and his heart hammered in his chest as danger approached from every direction.

2.

“Get that rat fuck and break every bone in his fucking legs before—” The thug on the right yelled.

1.

Cameron stood on the curb like a runner on the blocks, tuning out all the danger that surrounded him. If he stayed where he was the thug with the pipe was going to brain him, but ran now, the unmanned semi-truck barreling down on him was going to turn him to paste.

Instead of worrying he bolted right into oncoming traffic as the timer click down to zero. He had nothing to lose anymore, so if he was going to die no matter what, he might as well take the chance.

0.