"Aghhhhh!"
I jumped. Almost suddenly, the third guy shot them from behind me. He was around forty to fifty meters away, I think.
BANG! BANG!
He shot them—one guy dead on the spot, bullet through the head, while the other tried to run with only a bullet in his hand.
BANG!
Got shot again in the neck and died. What the hell is going on? I thought they were together. He's coming towards me.
Thud.
My limbs trembling, I fell on my butt. The knife dropped with a metallic clang. I kneeled down, arms over my head, tears streaming.
"Please... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me... don't kill me..."
Step. Step. Step.
As he came closer with each footstep, my heartbeat doubled—thump-thump, thump-thump—as if I'd die from a heart attack even if he didn't kill me.
He came closer but ignored me, walking past to those he'd killed. I sat and looked behind. He's wearing a bandana, has light black skin, his body covered in tattoos made of scars. His clothes are stained with blood, face and body thin—like he hadn't eaten properly for days, maybe years. He picked up some bullets and other things I couldn't identify. He went to the other one and picked something up.
Wait, wait, wait—is that a grenade? Why did they have it, and why does this person want it? Guns should be enough for terrorists, right? Just how many are there? I asked myself these questions.
I stood up, taking the risk. Knowing I couldn't win and my legs were too weak to run now, I asked him, "Sir, do you know where we are?"
He ignored me. He just kept checking any items he could find in their pockets or bags.
I took a deep breath and asked him again. "Sir, where are we?"
He ignored me again.
My patience wore thin. In anger, I said, "Goddammit! Where are we? What's going on? Did you see any plane? Huh? Don't just ignore me, please—just say something!"
I fell to my knees, hands loose at my sides. "Please..." My voice was so low no one could hear.
Then he looked at me. He has this sharp gaze in his eyes, a cold look—like a hawk staring at its prey, but in his case it's everywhere, and at this moment it's on me. He doesn't say anything. Just threw me a pistol and gestured for me to come along with him.
I started following him. He was walking low, hiding his footsteps. I realized why he didn't say anything—there were still gunshots coming from who knows where. Enemy could be right next to us. Me screaming and shouting would have revealed our location.
BOOM!
Somebody threw a grenade. We quickened our movements and went out of town. There were just some trees with leaves on the ground. Gun firing sounds got low. He removed a pile of leaves, and there was an underground place covered with wooden planks. The place was empty—looked like no one ever came here. He dropped his bag and weapons and sat on a rock.
"Now, ask what you want to ask," he said in a heavy voice. "This is my secret base, for now at least."
I said, "Secret base? Doesn't look like it."
He replied, "Oh! Were you expecting me to renovate this in a place and time like this?"
I said, "No, no, of course not."
He said, "When I'm not here, this place looks like a natural hole. I go out without leaving any trace of me in case anyone finds it. But it's opposite to the town, near the ocean, so less chances of someone coming this way."
"Oh, I see it now. He's right—it does look like a natural cave."
I asked, "What about wild animals?"
"There are none. You may see some birds or insects."
"Now back to the subject, boy. You want to know where we are? What's going on? Something about a plane?" The answer is simple: "I don't know," he said. "I don't know the place name, why people are killing each other. There are planes that come and go, but I'm sure your plane wasn't one of them. Those planes just drop supplies of weapons, shields, or medicines and disappear—vanish into thin air."
"It's been five years since I've been in this hell-like place. When I came here, people were already killing each other. There are people who've been in this place longer than me."
My hope shattered. I thought he might know something.
I asked, "You look like you're around your twenties—"
He cut me off. "Yes, I was sixteen when I came here. I was fishing with my dad. Suddenly a wave came. I found myself alone inside a house—no injuries, nothing. Thought somebody rescued me."
"The same thing happened to me today, but you survived here for five years. I don't think I can last a day," I said.
He said, "No, boy, you are braver than I am. When I first came here, all I did was run. I prioritise my life over others. I joined multiple groups and worked as a bag lifter, and when another group attacked us, I always abandoned them so I could live."
"But you—you took a knife and decided to attack them."
"My first kill was almost after a year when I was alone in a house and somebody entered. The houses in this place have no locks or latches—anyone can come in. I was foolish to think no one would come at night, but one came. I was hiding in the dark. The moment he came there, I shot at him multiple times—not out of bravery, but out of fear. I even shot his dead body to convince myself that he was dead."
"From that day I realized: if I have to live, I have to kill. It's just a matter of when."
I said, "But I can't kill anyone. I don't have what it takes to be a killer, and I'm not strong like you."
He said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. You think I'm strong? Boy, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not. When I kill, I kill from behind or by some method, but never like a warrior—face to face. I managed to kill those two because you came in front of them."
"Now, in the end, it's your decision to make. Oh, and also, this place is huge, and this town is just a part of it. If you think going to another town or village will help, you're wrong. From my experience, this is the safest place out of all the towns I've been to."
I said, "This is peaceful?" Arms on my head. "If this is peaceful, I can't imagine how other places are."
"I explored other towns to find answers, but I got no clue. Would you like to come with me?" he asked.
I said, "If this is peaceful and there's no way we can go back home, I'm staying here."
He said, "But this town won't be peaceful for long, and in my opinion, exploring would be best to find the answers you're seeking."
I said, "You have a point, but I can't kill. I'm too weak and afraid to kill. They're just like us, trying to survive. I thought it was a terrorist attack—that's why I could gather courage at that time—but now it seems impossible."
"So you decided to stay here?" he said.
"No, I didn't say that, but I'm not sure."
Dude, I'm not asking you to take somebody's life. I'm just asking you to come with me. There's no safe place in this world. This town seems safe 'cause the majority of people are dead or evacuated. Here, gangs travel from place to place.
I said, "Gangs? You serious? Why are people making gangs in this situation?!"
He said, "Oi, oi, I just told you about it. Weren't you listening?"
I said, "Oh, yeah. You mean those groups? Sorry to interrupt."
He said, "So people make groups to increase their chance of survival, and there are groups which are made to take those chances of survival. They enter a town, occupy it, rule it, and use every resource for their own desire. If the town residents don't obey, they either get killed or forced to leave. Each town has limited resources. If it gets empty, they leave and find another."
I asked, "What resources?"
He replied, "Oh, man, you ask lots of questions! Resources like bullets, medicines, guns, etc. This world doesn't have gold, diamonds, or things like that. I know what you're thinking: these resources can't come on their own, since they need humans to make 'em. Who's making it? Where is it being made? Am I right?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I have so many questions. I'm so confused as to what to ask."
He said, "Don't worry. Let's continue with these resources question. This place never ends on resources. No one's ever seen someone putting any gun, bullet, or anything in the house, but they still appear every day. And more supplies get dropped by planes."
I said, "Oh yeah, the planes! They could help us leave this place. There should be an airport nearby. We just have to get there."
He said, "Sounds cool, but planes just come from one end and go to the other. They fly in a straight direction, drop a box full of supplies, and leave. There are five planes each day. When a plane will get to this town, we don't know."
I said, "Yeah, but this town is also on the edge. If a plane crossed us, it'd be easy to see. We just gotta wait."
He seemed tired and sleepy—and also pissed off. I said, "Let me collect my thoughts. I swear this'll be the last question for today." He nodded and lay on the floor, full of soil, just like that.
I stood there, collecting my thoughts: Plane… guns… supplies… killing… I shouted, "Oh fuck! Why'd it take me so long to realize?!" I started looking at every inch of the base like a hungry cat.
He said, "TF are you doing? Your scream could've revealed our location!"
I said, "PUBG!"
He said, "PUBG? What's that?"
I said, "You don't know what PUBG is?"
He said, "No."
I said, "It's a game me and my friends used to play on our phones."
He said, "Oh, phones. Our family was poor. We didn't have phones. Anyway, what's that gotta do with this?"
I said, "It's the same! What we're facing right now—everything's in PUBG. Guns, planes dropping supplies, supplies found in houses, people killing each other… all these things are in PUBG too. I'm sure someone out there is watching us, monitoring every movement, prolly eating popcorn while watching us die like it's a movie."
He spat and made an icky face—but also one that saw hope. "So you're telling me they made a game about killing people? Sick people…" Then he added, "So tell me more about that game. Maybe it could help us."
"Okay. So in the game, there are three ways you can play: either solo, with one person, or with three more people. At the start of each game, we're in planes with 100 people total. You have to jump and land in a town, loot the area, find guns and shit, and kill every enemy you see. You win when you're the only one left alive."
"I see similarities. But here, more than 100 people are present—maybe even in the 10,000s. And this place still doesn't get empty."
I said, "Yeah, 'cause it's not a game—it's real. In the game, either you die or live till the end, then you go back to the same place. But here, if you die, you die. And have you ever seen some electric current chasing you? Or some place getting bombarded by missiles?"
He said, "No. Never."
"Yeah, it seems they don't have technology for the blue zone, and they're not using missiles 'cause they want us to kill each other with our own hands. I was looking for some cameras but couldn't find any—they're prolly in the houses."
He laughed—not out of happiness, but something else. "Oh, even if we know that whoever's behind this shitty place is some PUBG lover, it doesn't help us. Can't believe I'm still naive enough to think we could be saved."
I said, "Yeah, you're right. But knowledge will definitely help us. Maybe many people who've played PUBG realized it too. They're killing 'cause they think it's the only way to go home."
He seemed hella tired but still alert. "I said let's stop for today. I got the main points—that's enough for now."
I asked, "What's for dinner?"
He threw me a can of energy drink and said, "Here, drink this. This and some insects are the only food you can eat here. And birds, if you're lucky."
"WTF?! How am I gonna survive on this? No wonder you look so thin—you actually haven't eaten real food for 5 years!"
I drank it and said, "Well, no other option, eh? ...Whoa." I felt instantly energized, like it was the best energy drink ever. "I could do 1,000 push ups right now!"
He warned, "Don't do that. That drink gives you energy and also boosts your healing. Injuries that take weeks to heal can vanish in days after drinking it. Just go to sleep—we gotta wake up early."
I lay on the floor hesitantly. I wasn't used to sleeping in sand—it was itchy, but I'd deal with it.
Suddenly I sat up. "I forgot one thing!"
He snapped, irritation sharp in his tone, "Boy, what now? You just said you'd stop for today!"
"Yeah, but... what's your name? I forgot to ask. Should've been the first thing."
"Jake. Call me Jake."
"Oh, nice. Mine's Karma." I lay back down, then added quietly, "About my decision to come with you... I need a day for that. I'll give you my answer tomorrow."
"I fell into a deep slumber, dreaming about having fun on Goa's swimming beaches." Jake shook my body and threw water to wake me up. "Hurry, hurry, you sloth! You can't sleep all day—we gotta move our asses!"
I woke up, washed my face. He was already geared up and ready to go. The entire base stood empty now. He'd split supplies—some with him, some with me. The weight felt crushing. Can't believe he used to carry all this alone. I asked, "So where we going?"
He said, "East part of this town. I haven't explored it yet. After we're done there, we—I mean I—will move to another town."
We walked in silence now, guards up. The town seemed dead empty. No signs of life.
He whispered, "Let's move through houses. And don't forget to pick up ammo and meds."
I nodded. "Yeah, great idea. But keep your guard up. Someone could be camping."
We entered a house, moving fast. I paused. "Oh, look—this is where I first met you." I stepped inside and saw fresh supplies already spawned. "Hell yeah—a suppressor! This could save us."
He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Elaborate."
I explained, "When we clear houses, we might need to fire. If campers hear unsuppressed shots, they'll pinpoint us. This muffles the noise. Distant enemies won't hear. A vehicle would be better, though."
He grimaced. "You've got brains. And yeah, vehicles exist. They're just rare."
I sighed. "Huh. Well... at least we've got energy drinks."
We moved house to house. At the last building, a vast empty road stretched between us and the east sector.
He grabbed my arm. "Wait. Don't rush. Could be an ambush."
He threw smoke grenades and said, "Run through the smoke!" We ran and reached the town. Here, nothing seemed unusual—just the house designs were different. He said, "Don't let your guard down. Corpses here are fresh."
I replied, "Now you said it, I can see it too."
As we explored each house, a glass shattered.
He shouted, "Quick, take cover!"
He took cover, but I panicked and saw the enemy. He was looking through the broken glass window, grinning. Then my eyes met his, and my body froze.
He shot. Jake pulled me aside through the window—the bullet just scraped me. Shit, what the hell am I doing?
I said, "I have a plan—I'll keep him busy and give you a signal."
He replied, "Sounds good, but I'll shoot him if I suspect anything."
I said, "Fair."
I called out to the enemy: "What were you doing? Why did you break the glass?"
He answered, "I am not your enemy. I just came here yesterday."
Then he started laughing like a maniac. "Do you think I'm a fool? I know you're not alone. You have your ally inside the house. You thought you'd keep me busy while he kills me. And 'what was I doing?' Hey—did you notice the fresh corpses on your way here?"
I realized what he meant. I spoke loudly but calmly: "Why... Why did you kill them?"
He grinned wickedly. "Because it's fun."
I spat back, "Fun? You did all that 'cause killing is fun to you? Everyone's stuck here wanting to go home, and you kill just for fun? Don't kid me."
He mocked, "Aww, poor little boy thinks he can go home. Missing momma?"
Then suddenly, he turned serious. "You said you came here yesterday. Let me guess—before you came, you were in some vehicle that got hit by a storm. You woke up here with no injuries and no memory of how you got here."
I said, "Yeah. Did the same happen to you?"
He answered, "Not just you and me—everyone in this world."
I recalled Jake telling me about going fishing with his dad and getting hit by a wave.
The enemy continued, "I've been here just a week and realized there's no going back. It's like a game, but real."
I said, "Yeah, I realized that yesterday. It's like battle royale games—PUBG. But there's no winner here."
He said, "You know it, right? Whether we kill or not, it doesn't matter. There's no law here. Maybe they want each of us to get 100 kills before they let us go. Or maybe it's just a dream, and killing them wakes them up." He laughed maniacally again.
I fired back in a speedy voice: "It matters—matters to me! I don't wanna lose my morality for anything. For me, it comes above all—even myself. And did you even try to go back home? I bet losers like you love this place 'cause it lets you escape your old world's reality. And about the dream thing—if you believe that, why didn't you kill yourself first?"
He taunted, "Woah, woah—calm down. Bird became a hawk, eh?"
Another glass shattered—this time from inside the same house.
I demanded, "What's going on? How did that break? I thought you broke the first glass, but that came from inside now?"
He smirked. "Well, I can show you—as your last wish. And your partner should come too."
Jake came out of the house, gun aimed straight at him. "Start walking. We'll follow. Try anything funny, and I'll put holes in your body."
He started walking, and we followed him into the house—a two-story building. He walked up the stairs and stopped in front of a room. He took a deep breath, opened the door quickly, and ran inside.
Jake was about to shoot. I shook his arm—some bullets fired but missed.
"Wait! He's holding someone hostage!"
The enemy kicked the floor angrily. "Agh, damn it! Hurt me, and I'll hurt her."
The hostage had blood on her head. Her clothes were scraped, covered in bruises. Her hands and legs were tied.
I yelled, "What did you do to her?!"
He sneered, "Me? Nothing. She was my next target. Planned to kill her by starvation, but you ruined it. Now all three of you die."
I cursed, "You sick bastard."
During our talk, I'd noticed something: whenever he laughed, his finger slipped off the trigger.
He jeered, "She looks sicker than me, though," and started laughing again.
I screamed, "JAKE, SHOOT!"
Jake instantly aimed and shot his hand. The enemy's gun clattered to the floor.
I rushed into the room, slammed him against the wall, and bashed his head. He fell. I grabbed the hostage and untied her hands and legs. She bolted out the door.
Suddenly—BANG!—a bullet whizzed past my ear and hit the enemy's chest.
Shit—I dropped my guard again, right in front of him! I thought he was unconscious!
Jake growled, "He was about to shoot you."
The enemy coughed blood, voice fading. "You killed me... but you won't survive long either. Even with his help. Good aim... but they have far better weapons."
I demanded, "Who are you talking about?"
He choked, "Hey Jake... your scars tell me you've been here longer than us..."
Jake confirmed, "Yes. Five years."
The enemy whispered, "Then you've heard the name Tron?"
Jake said, "Yeah. One of my groups got attacked by them. But they weren't the strongest back then."
The enemy rasped, "Now they're in a whole different league..."
He slumped against the wall—right leg straight, left folded, wrist resting on his left knee. He stared straight at me. "You wanna know how to go home, right? They might have the answer. That's all I can tell you."
His face dropped. Eyes closed. His voice faded to a whisper, a bloody smile on his lips: "Is this hell...?"
Then he died.
I said bitterly, "There are two ways to survive a place like this: the hard way—fighting its reality—or adapting and becoming what it wants. He chose the easy one."
"AGHH! FUCK THIS PLACE! FUCK TRONS! FUCK GANGS! FUCK EVERYONE!"
Jake stood there watching me, not saying a single word—letting me release my frustration. But I calmed myself down and muttered, Now's not the time for this. Save the rage for those Bastards.
I turned to him. "Jake, I'm coming with you. That's my decision."