Starvation Island: A LitRPG Mystery Novel, page 1
Starvation Island
A LitRPG Mystery Novel
by
I.O. Adler
End-User Jack Book Three
Chapter One—Shipwreck
Water surged through the round window. The cramped room listed violently. As a shelf full of toiletries spilled to the floor, Jack realized he was in trouble.
His legs nearly gave out from under him when he stood. The last thing he remembered was being helped from his wheelchair to be placed back inside his retirement pod.
Some shouted from beyond the door. “Help!”
A roar as a wave struck the hull of the boat. The floor shifted as the room tilted before settling back down. The water was up to Jack’s ankles, but more kept pouring in through the window. He pushed open the door and stumbled into a narrow, wood-paneled hallway. More doors and steps leading up. Distant shouts from above.
Who had called for help?
A door banged at the dark end of the corridor. It kept striking a second door that had swung open. The latches had caught themselves. Whoever was trying to get out of their room was trapped.
Knee-deep water as Jack waded forward. “I’m here. Close your door.”
He worked to free the latches and pulled the cabin door wide. The pasty-faced man in the floral shirt who came stumbling out almost took Jack down into the water.
“Hey! I got you. You’re okay.”
The water was up to their thighs as they strode towards the steps. The boat listed further, forcing Jack to throw a hand against a wall to steady them. Frothy seawater cascaded down from the hatch above.
“You hurt?” Jack asked.
“No, I’m fine. I’m just...dizzy.”
“I just woke up, too. Get your feet under you. What’s your name?”
“Felix.”
“All right, Felix. I’m Jack. We need to leave.”
A massive wave crashed against the bow of the vessel. The bent aluminum mast was a tangle of ropes and torn sails. Wind buffeted the rigging. With the way the boat was canted, rocks and a swirling blue sea were visible off the port side. Palm trees stood in the distance beyond the crashing waves. But the expanse of churning water between the coast and the boat was a liquid void.
Five passengers clung to the starboard rail as water sprayed around them. Tank tops, sundresses, shorts, and sandals. No one was dressed to work on a boat, not that it mattered with the ocean swamping the thing. They all were drenched. Only one man had a life vest, and he gripped it desperately.
Jack recognized Mei. She wore a long-sleeved striped shirt and black leggings. Her dark hair was plastered to her face. She was also her young self again, like in the cooking contest sim, rather than the older woman with a cane he had met in the tower’s dilapidated retirement suite.
“Jack?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I just woke up.”
“Me too. Same story as everyone else. We need to get off this thing.”
She was interrupted by a square-jawed man with buzzed-orange hair. “Not much choice. We swim for it.”
Jack gripped the rail at the thought of crossing the waves to get to the island. “I can’t swim.”
“That’s a problem for you, then, isn’t it?” With that, the man with the buzz cut dove into the water. The rolling waves caught him momentarily, but he kicked and paddled as he made progress towards the shore.
Mei laughed. “I guess we know who the villain is on this show.”
A tall, older woman was soaked head to toe. Her auburn hair hung in strands from a tight bun. “We’ll get you off the boat. Look down here. There are no rocks on this side where he jumped. Grab anything you can that might float and throw it in. Cushions, that cooler there, anything. The longer we wait, the harder this will be.”
The remaining group seized what they could and flung it off the side. Soon there were a dozen cushions, along with two coolers and an empty plastic gas can, floating around below them.
The woman grabbed the elbow of the man with the life preserver and clicked the straps closed. “Look at you, all dressed for the part. Okay, everyone. We’re going to have to go in together and stick close as best as possible. If you can swim, help the others. Then we head for the beach. Don’t fight the waves; move with them. I’ll lead the way.”
Mei patted Jack on the shoulder. “I’ll grab you something.” With that, she jumped.
The others followed. Jack reminded himself it was a game, a sim, that none of this was real. But the thought of so much foaming water beneath him made him grip the rail tighter.
“Come on!” Mei called as she bobbed in the water beneath him. She had the cooler in one hand and a seat cushion in another.
The rest of the group was swimming or floating as a wave rolled under them.
The boat deck shuddered beneath him as it shifted.
He would jump, sink, and be sucked down. Water would invade his mouth, his throat, and he’d drown. A tremor ran through his arms as he fought to breathe. Then he held his breath and sprang forward. With a splash, he hit the water. Hands were on him, pulling him up. The cooler was thrust into his arms. He swallowed salty seawater before tasting air.
Where was Mei? He didn’t dare let go to look for her as he pressed himself against the plastic cooler.
“Kick with your feet,” the tall woman said. “Help me and I’ll guide you.”
All he could do was nod and kick and hope she knew what she was doing. The ocean was a living thing beneath him, pushing, then pulling, then shoving in a new direction. Was he heading for the beach or away from it? Was there anything beneath him? The thunder of pounding waves came from all sides.
“Put your feet down,” the woman said.
Ground beneath him. It squished as he put his weight down and found himself thigh deep in water. As the tide pulled back, he was almost hauled into the sea. A firm hand under one arm kept him standing, and then the next wave pushed him forward. He fell. The cooler went tumbling. He landed on sand.
The others were likewise pulling themselves from the surf. Mei was helping the man with the life vest. Where was the guy Jack had rescued from the lower deck? Another woman with blond streaks and a sun dress was getting him seated beneath a tall tree.
They made it. They were on the island. The cooler tumbled and rolled in the shallow water. Out past the breaking waves, the boat with its bent mast writhed like a trapped animal with its spine snapped.
The tall woman crouched next to him. “Anything broken?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Was there anyone else on board?”
“No one else on deck, but I can’t be sure.”
“I’m Jack. What’s your name?”
“Maureen. Good to meet you. Catch your breath. This island’s not going anywhere.”
She patted him on the shoulder before moving on to check with the others. He fought the haze from his mind. What had happened? Where was he? The boat, the island—none of it made sense.
Scowl, the plain-spoken AI, had asked him and Mei back into the sim. His mission for them? Take down Mr. Smiley to regain control over the tower networks. Jack hadn’t been sure what to expect—a game show, another murder house, a singing contest—but not this.
His legs were rubber when he stood. The island felt as if it was moving, but it was a trick of the inner ear, he knew. Trees and thick growth beyond them. A tall rocky hill and another covered in jungle. Besides the cushions and whatever floating objects they had thrown overboard, the beach was empty. They had nothing but the clothes on their backs.
“Where’s the first guy who swam here?” he asked Mei.
She inspected a plastic jug but it was empty. “Don’t know. Dry off for a few minutes and we’ll go looking for him.”
“Not without me you don’t,” the man with the life vest said.
“Maybe you should sit down next to Jack. You’re a bit shaky.”
“Nonsense. I won’t let you go searching around for clues and advantages without me.”
“Me, neither,” the woman in the sundress said.
Maureen was working tangles from her hair. “Let’s hold off before we go running into the woods, shall we?”
“And what do you propose we do?” Sundress said.
“Evelyn, right?” She pointed at the others. “You’re Jack, you’re Mei, and Vikram is the lucky winner of the life vest.” She paused when she got to the pasty man Jack had helped from his cabin. “You look familiar.”
“Felix.”
“Good to know you, Felix. I also didn’t catch the name of the gentleman who swam off.”
The man with the buzz cut approached through a path in the trees. “It’s Dex.”
“Nice of you to come back. We could have used your help.”
“I watched for a few minutes. You had things under control. I thought I’d go scouting.”
“Find anything?” Evelyn asked.
“Palm trees, undergrowth, and a lot of sand and rock. No cabanas or swimming pools, I’m afraid.”
“No stage? And where are the cameras?”
Vikram pulled off the life vest. “Or instructions? There must be something to tell us what we’re supposed to do.”
“I found nothing,” Dex said. “We’re shipwrecked. We’re on an island. That’s it.”
“I don’t get it. What’s our goal?”
“Avoid drowning, for starters,” Maureen said. “We’ve only been here a few minutes. Let’s work out a plan. No one runs off.”
“Who put you in charge?” Evelyn asked.
“Was everyone here expecting a game?” Jack asked. He received a few nods. “Me, too. We’re here to compete. But judging by how we arrived, it might not be against each other.”
“If we’re not playing to win, what kind of game could it be, then?” Vikram asked.
“I’ve been through two of the tower’s new competitions. Maybe some of you have seen me. From what we just experienced, this isn’t like Last Mansion or Chop House. I think we’re here to see if we can survive.”
Chapter Two—Sand
“The tower must fall.”
A stupid slogan, and one that Athena loathed.
Did any of the bung-wipes who chanted it during their ill-conceived rebel huddles really think they’d be better off living with the outsiders? Had any of them thought through what shutting down essential services meant for the citizens who just wanted their power to work and their food printers to be stocked so they could trudge through another day and keep their families fed and safe?
Certainly not. The things she did for love.
To see the message scrawled in black grease pencil made her roll her eyes.
“The tow-er must fall,” Athena sang softly. “The tow-er must fall. Hi-ho-the-derry-o! The tow-er must fall.”
Her song needed work, but not at the moment.
The cover to the air duct had a dozen rivets. Each needed to be drilled out. And with a dozen trigger-happy security goons down the corridor, one slip meant trouble. She squeezed the trigger of her drill and worked the first one through. When it punch the rivet out, she was rewarded with a distant clack and clatter.
No motion down the dark corridor.
Hopefully, the quadrant’s security team was exhausted from another day of swapping flashbang grenades and shotgun blasts, with the other two factions laying claim to level forty-three.
She needed to go down one floor, and the elevators were out. Much of the fighting took place in the stairwells. The rivets popped out one at a time. Then the bit caught. She reversed the drill and was rewarded with a rattling, grinding sound when she tried again to ram the bit through.
A ping blipped in her AR hardware.
She froze.
Someone had triggered the motion sensor she had placed behind her in the hallway. Hurry up and don’t suck. The tower was anything but silent. Rattles in the plumbing, sputtering atmosphere controls, the hum of backup generators, and distant gunfire punctuated the night.
When Athena heard voices coming closer, she knew she had company.
MEI STOOD BEFORE THE group on the beach and ticked off the points on her fingers. “Pain levels? They’re all the way up. Check. Discomfort? Sand in the worst places. Check. We’re wet, we have no clothes, and there’s no shelter. Check, check, and check. I didn’t think the sims could get any worse.”
Evelyn had a small mirror in her hand and was picking bits of sand from her face. “There’s always worse. Don’t jinx it. At least there’s no audience to see me. I’m a mess.”
“Everyone keep calm,” Maureen said. “Once we catch our breath, we see what’s out there. There’s bound to be instructions and resources. It’s an exciting start to our experience, that’s all.”
Dex stood with his arms folded. “Don’t be so sure the game’s giving us anything. Jack’s right; there’s nothing here. It’s just us and the island.”
“Well, we’ll figure that out once we explore. Together. No more running off on your own. That’s not how we make it through this.”
Evelyn giggled.
“What’s funny?”
“You haven’t watched many shows like this, have you?” Evelyn asked. “‘Let’s stick together.’ ‘Let’s not go off on our own.’ That’s how you get an edge, honey. Not by staying together and playing it safe.”
Maureen scowled. “You didn’t complain when it came to getting help off the boat.”
“I’m not advocating any course of action,” Evelyn said as she closed the mirror. “I’m just saying, that’s all.”
Jack had been listening to the exchange. “Where’d you get the mirror?”
“It was in my pocket.”
He held a hand out. “May I?”
It was a small, round compact with its makeup tube missing. Nothing else remarkable about it. He gave it back. “Anyone else have anything in their pockets that might be useful?”
Vikram had a vest replete with pouches. From one, he produced a foldable erase board and pen. “Not sure what the purpose of this might be.”
“Does it have anything to do with your job in the tower?”
“Yeah. It’s where I write up my quick notes before logging into a sim. I teach.”
Mei showed everyone a wristwatch. It was a windup, or a facsimile of one. “This was on my wrist. It’s what I wore in the computer lab where we weren’t permitted our personal devices.”
“At least that’s useful,” Maureen said. “I had a bottle of wine with me in the boat cabin but I ditched it. Now I wish I had brought it with me.”
“No opener?” Evelyn asked.
“I would have figured something out. Lord, I could use a drink.”
Dex held up a compass. “Not sure what the point of this is, considering the island doesn’t look that big. What about you, Jack?”
Jack checked the pockets of his knee-length shorts and found what he thought was a pen. It was a tiny flashlight. He clicked it on and off. “At least it works.”
“All right, that could be helpful. What about you, Felix?”
All eyes went to the pasty man. He had settled under a tree and had been quiet the whole time. He kept an arm around his midsection and was breathing hard.
“You okay?” Mei asked.
Felix nodded. “I got the dickens knocked out of me when stumbling out of the hold. I do have something.” He produced a pair of tiny binoculars from under his billowy floral print shirt. “One lens is cracked, I’m afraid.”
“That’s it?” Dex asked. “No one’s holding out on a pocketknife or hand radio?”
Jack waited for a grin or a softening of the eyes, but the man was serious. “No one’s holding out on anything.”
“Don’t be so sure. Let’s get moving. If we’re going to stick together, we’re going to start on the same page. Rule one, you find something, you call out. No one pockets food, game objects, a rock, or anything without telling the group.”
“No need to be bossy,” Maureen said. “We were all working together just fine.” She didn’t mention Dex was the one to swim off by himself.
“Call it what you want. I won the last game I was in by getting everyone together and uncovering the traitors who turned out to be the murderers.”
Evelyn put a hand to her mouth. “I thought it was you. You were in Last Mansion season eight! I was rooting against you the whole time!”
“Season eight?” Jack asked.
“I remember them all. Dex won by being an absolute jerk. No offense. He was trumped by Jenny in season eleven. Super pushy, but she had a sixth sense for who was lying. It was the best.”
“How many seasons were there?”
“I watched all twenty-eight of them. And then Chop House started and the Last Mansion was put on hold.”
From what Jack had been told, Chop House had been streamed to everyone in the tower and was the last program to air. Mei bringing down Mr. Smiley’s entertainment server at Scowl’s request had put an end to the shows. But the murder mansion had twenty-eight seasons?
“You remember Mei and I?” Jack asked Evelyn.
“Original cast. The O.G.s. And you gave the win away. So noble. Although I’m surprised to see you here. Maybe this is a second-chance show for the both of you?”
“Who else here played on a game show?”
All the hands went up except for Felix and Evelyn. Felix continued to look miserable and might not have been listening.
“I applied for Last Mansion every season,” Evelyn said. “They never got me on, but I did do a screen interview. I’ve been on a few commercials. Jilly-Jolly, Supreme Comfy Pillows, and you probably saw me do the PSA for elevator safety. You know, the ones with the little elves falling down the shaft because they ignored the safety signs?”
Jack looked back at the pounding waves. “I must have missed that one.”
“It looks like we’re stuck here,” Mei said. “No interface, and no logging out. Which means it’s once again Mr. Smiley’s game.”
