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  Game master

  REBOOT

  David Clark

  Game Master: Reboot © 2019 by David Clark. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  David Clark

  Visit my website at www.authordavidclark.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: July 2019

  Frightening Future Publishing

  CONTENTS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  12

  13

  14

  15

  What Did You Think of Game Master: REBOOT?

  About the Author

  Other Works

  1

  Doug threw their captive on the closest bed and pounced on him. He pulled out two guns from his jacket pockets and threw them on the neighboring bed, then he yanked the pillowcase off his head. The expression on Doug’s face was one Robert had never seen before. He focused his eyes on his prey as he planted his hands firmly on the center of his chest and let his weight settle on him. His prey stared back, almost defiant.

  “Speak English?” asked Doug while nodding his head up and down.

  He nodded back in agreement.

  “Good. That will make this easier. You have a choice. You can take us back to Marjorie now, and get to see whatever family you have again, or NOT.”

  He spat at Doug. The reply was a swift and violent punch to the face.

  “So, you want to do this the hard way. Fine by me.” Doug got up and grabbed one of the two guns. After a quick inspection, he handed it to Robert and showed him how to disengage the safety. “If he moves, shoot him.”

  At that moment, Robert realized he had never held an actual gun before. With no real experience or training, he pulled from his years of video game experience and mimicked the many characters he’d controlled and held the gun in both hands, aimed at their captive.

  Doug searched the room. After not finding what he was looking for, he settled for an alternative and kicked the bathroom door handle until it broke off. He picked up the round baseball-shaped handle and jumped back on the bed.

  “So, Lee… I like that, I am going to call you Mr. Lee, for now. Not that your name really matters to me. So, Mr. Lee, any second thoughts about maybe doing this the easy way?”

  Mr. Lee spat a mixture of saliva and blood at Doug. His head recoiled back and he flinched, in anticipation of a retaliation that never arrived. He relaxed his head back on the bed and Doug delivered a blow with the door handle, sending his head crashing to the right. Blood sprayed across the bedspread. Doug didn’t let up. He grabbed the pillowcase and wrapped it around Mr. Lee’s neck. He placed the door handle inside the pillowcase, against his Adam’s apple. He slowly began twisting it into a homemade garrote.

  Each twist pushed the doorknob further into Mr. Lee’s windpipe. His eyes grew wider with each twist. Raspy breaths attempted to suck in as much air as possible through the restricted airway.

  Doug paused to ask, “Still want to do this the hard way?”

  Mr. Lee forced a wide smile in reply.

  “Alright,” said Doug. He started twisting again. The breathing sounds became shallower and more labored. Each breath searching for air, but each one finding less and less of it. His head started to sway from side to side uncontrollably as he struggled to stay awake. The lack of air and restricted blood flow fought him. Doug let up just before Mr. Lee lost consciousness.

  He slapped his face a bit. “Hey. Hey. Mr. Lee, wake up. Let’s try this again. Want to help us?”

  There were a series of incoherent sounds, accompanying a nod of the head up and down. Robert and the other’s couldn’t make out what he said, but Doug could.

  “Good man.” Doug unwrapped the pillowcase and discarded the doorknob on the floor with a thud. He placed it around the top of his head and tied if off. He motioned toward one of the bottles of water. Jill tossed it to him.

  With it held to Mr. Lee’s lips, he said, “Water. Take a few sips.”

  Mr. Lee attempted to gulp it, but Doug only allowed him a few drops.

  “Do you have a car?”

  Mr. Lee nodded.

  “Good. Here is what we are going to do. I am going to let you up, then we are all going to walk down to your car and get in. I will drive, and you will direct me to where we can find our friend. If you double cross me, my trigger-happy friend over there will shoot you. If you give us wrong directions, he will shoot you. Cause problems in any way, he will shoot you. Capisce?”

  Mr. Lee didn’t say a word. Doug held his hand out and snapped. On command, Jill retrieved the second gun from the bed and placed it in his hand. He silently removed the clip and emptied the one in the chamber. With a quick and forceful motion, he pulled the slide back allowing it to click loudly.

  Doug pressed the muzzle of the firearm against the side of Mr. Lee’s cheek. He jerked at the feeling of cold steel and the realization of imminent danger. “Or, if you don’t want to cooperate, I can just pull the trigger right now. Whatcha’ say?”

  The captive started squirming under Doug, mumbling very fast.

  “English, boy. I don’t have a lot of patience.”

  The mumbling continued.

  “My finger is feeling really heavy on this trigger.”

  The mumbling changed into a stammering of incoherent phrases.

  “Alright, you had your chance.” Doug squeezed his hand slowly. The trigger propelled the firing pin forward right as Mr. Lee screamed, “Okay, I will help.” If there had been a bullet in the chamber, his exclamation would never have been heard over the blast. He may not have been able to make the sound as the projectile splattered his cheek and jaw along the bed and onto the floor.

  “Good boy. Now do as I say, and you might get to live.” Doug got up off of their captive. He put the single bullet back in the top of the clip and reinserted the clip. A few quick yanks of the pillowcase off of his head, and the sheet from around his body, freed Mr. Lee into a pile of humanity sitting on the floor. Doug used it to remove most of the blood stains off of his cheek, but it only removed so much. If anyone gave him even a passing glance, they would know he had been through a gruesome attack.

  “Get up.”

  Mr. Lee got up. Doug sent Robert, Amy, and Jill out first, with Mr. Lee between Doug and Jill. The gun planted firmly in his back as they walked down the stairs. Mr. Lee directed them to a black BMW sedan with tinted windows. The five of them got in, with their captive secured in the back seat between Robert and Doug. Jill was elected the driver.

  2

  Mr. Lee took them on a fifteen-minute drive through a shopping district that transitioned into industrial buildings. They approached one building that, without any direction from their captive, Robert knew was the one. There was an entrance to an underground parking lot that curved around to the right. He could still envision Marjorie and the line of handlers waiting for them at the top when they tried to escape before.

  Doug had Jill pull past the opening and then park around the corner. He surveyed the building as they drove past, pointing out to Robert a lack of security cameras. Parked, Doug sat silently for a few moments, lost in
thought.

  “What’s the plan?” asked Robert.

  “Thinking. Give me a moment.” Doug looked around again at the front of the plain concrete building from the side. It was probably three stories, but the absence of windows on the front made that only a guess. An area of overgrown old-growth trees blocked the view of the front door from the main street. To Robert’s eyes, they should be able to get into the garage very easily. Doug had other plans though.

  “What is inside?” he asked, pushing the muzzle of the gun into his captive’s side.

  “What?” responded Mr. Lee.

  “What is inside the building?”

  “It is an abandoned office building. Not used anymore. Marjorie uses it for a studio.”

  “Is there any security?”

  He shook his head no.

  “You better not be lying to me.”

  “I’m not lying. There is no security anywhere above ground. Just under.”

  “What about stairs, or an elevator?”

  “Yes. Yes. The elevator takes you down to behind the control room. The stairs take you to the dock.”

  “Doug, what are you thinking?” asked Robert.

  “Something a little more tactical than just walking down to the garage. Let’s go. Jill and Amy, you stay here. Mr. Lee, you are coming with us.” Doug threw his door open and pulled Mr. Lee out with him. He looked around, no one was walking down the walkway, and no traffic on the street.

  Amy opened her door and objected, “We are coming, too.”

  Robert stopped her door before she could open it all the way. “No. You guys stay here. I have already put you in harm’s way enough. We don’t know what we are walking into.”

  Amy bit her lip while her eyes pleaded with Robert to stay.

  “If we are not back in, what… thirty minutes…” he looked at Doug, who agreed, “take the plane tickets and get out of here. I left them in the back seat.”

  Amy shut the door slowly, looking at Robert through the gap between the door and the car until he disappeared with the click of a closed door.

  Doug headed off, pushing Mr. Lee through the front garden and to the short concrete walkway in front of the door. Robert rushed to catch up. His head was on a swivel, looking around for any signs of trouble. Doug did the same and paused before entering the front door.

  “Open it,” he ordered.

  Mr. Lee reached out and pulled the door open. A breath of cool air rushed out to greet them in the heat of the mid-morning sun. Mr. Lee enjoyed it for a second before Doug gave him a hard shove, forcing him inside. The building appeared to be completely abandoned. It was a typical office building. A few offices in the corner, but the rest of the first floor was an open area, with faded reminders of the cubical walls burned into the worn brown carpet. Dust bunnies inhabited the floor, with a single office phone left in the center of the room. A reminder of what must have been there.

  The staircase was to the immediate right, but the elevator was in the back-left corner and Doug pointed it out. Even without external windows anywhere on this floor, Doug and Robert felt exposed in the large expansive space as they crossed through it. Each step as cautious as the previous one.

  A little over two-thirds of the way to the elevator, Doug heard a sound and collapsed to the floor, pulling Mr. Lee with him. Robert followed a split-second later. Doug spun around on his stomach to cover behind them, but as he looked around, at first he saw nothing. Then a hint of movement pulled his attention to the back corner of the room. A single mouse played and scampered amongst the field of dust-based tumbleweeds.

  Mr. Lee let out a laugh, “You were scared of a little mouse.”

  “Shut it,” said Doug as the butt of the gun smashed into Mr. Lee’s face.

  Doug didn’t give him a chance to recover before yanking him up to his feet. Mr. Lee tried to catch the new streams of blood with his hands as they continued moving toward the elevator.

  The three stood in front of the elevator door, but neither Robert nor Doug reached for the button. Instead they gave each other that is this a good idea look. Before any more second thoughts invaded their minds, Doug pressed the button. There was a quick and echoing ding as the door opened. Robert felt his heart skip a beat as the doors exposed the inside of the elevator car. Doug trained his gun at chest height of any occupants there may be as the door opened wide. It was empty.

  They walked in and pressed the button labeled with a “B”, and the door closed. The car descended with a muffled metallic scraping. It jerked a little here and there, showing its age. Robert felt beads of cold sweat develop on the back of his neck. A slight tremble developed in his hand. A few squeezes of the offending hand helped, but didn’t stop it completely.

  Doug pushed Mr. Lee to the front and positioned himself behind the much smaller man, with the gun positioned over his right shoulder. “Get behind me,” he ordered Robert. Robert didn’t give it a second thought and took a position behind him. The car slowed to a stop and dinged. The door slid open with a crank. Doug focused his gun on the growing gap between the two halves of the door. His eyes scanning every inch of the visible area.

  The door opened onto an empty hallway. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead and glared off the glossy linoleum floor. Doug pushed Mr. Lee through the opening, but held him close to the door. He scanned both ways up the hallway. Satisfied no one was there, he directed Mr. Lee the rest of the way through the door and followed him out. Robert followed closely but, on instinct, turned around to watch behind them. He took a few steps backward and bumped into Doug, who had stopped.

  “Where is the control room?” he whispered.

  Mr. Lee pointed to a door up ahead. It was solid, no way to know what waited for them behind it. Doug approached with caution. Robert backed into him again, but he didn’t react.

  “We are going in fast,” said Doug, before he threw open the door and forced Mr. Lee in. One person sat at a computer, against the opposite wall. Before he had any clue what happened, Doug threw Mr. Lee across the room and into the man. Both of them crashed into the wall and to the floor. When they tried to sit up, they came face to face with the Doug’s black steel 9mm pistol that he had “borrowed” from Mr. Lee. Doug crouched over them, the gun inches from their faces. His face was just inches behind it as he peered at them over the slide of the gun.

  He instructed Robert, “Close the door.”

  Robert threw it closed and leaned back against it. Not to hold it shut, but to catch his breath and calm his nerves. When Doug motioned for him to come to him, Robert reached down and locked the door.

  “Remember us?”

  The man shook a very nervous-looking head.

  “Good. I tell you what. We are going to call you Mr. Wrong. If you give us a wrong answer, then you lose. So, Mr. Wrong. Where are you holding our friend? The English man.”

  “He is not here,” said the very shaky voice. The man’s whole body trembled as he looked back and forth between Robert and Doug. His face screamed for assistance. Robert stood there, letting Doug take lead. The events unfolding before him were surreal.

  Doug didn’t like that answer and delivered his own reply with the back of his hand against the man’s temple. A red welt began to form immediately.

  “Sorry about that. I have a temper when I am fed bullshit. Now, I will ask again. If you make me ask a third time, I will just pull the trigger.”

  The man held up his hands and begged, “No. No. No. He is not here. I promise. He and Mrs. Lana left last night after you did. I promise.” The look of fear told Robert and Doug everything, he was telling them the truth. The gun relaxed a bit and pointed a little lower than the man’s head.

  “Who is Mrs. Lana?” Doug barked.

  “You knew her as Marjorie. It is one of her many names,” responded Mr. Lee.

  “Who is she?”

  Mr. Lee gave a smug laugh, “She is no one, and many people, all at once. Marjorie, Lana, the dark wolf, Mrs. Spencer, Mrs. Romanski, those are all n
ames she goes by. You will never find her, and if you do, you won’t survive.”

  Doug stood up and took two steps backward before he turned around, knelt back down and, in a single motion, knocked Mr. Lee unconscious with the butt of the gun.

  “Want to end up like your buddy there? Tell me what I need to know.”

  The man wept when he said, “We don’t know her real name. All I know is she took your friend with her last night. They left about nine o’clock. I don’t know where they went. I promise.”

  “Left? Are they still in Macau?”

  “No, they took her plane. I don’t know where they were going.”

  Doug turned his back and walked to the door. “Let’s go. We can find her.” He opened it and let Robert out. The hallway was still empty.

  “Go on to the elevator. I will be right there.” Doug disappeared back into the room. The gun let out two sharp pops and Doug emerged back into the hallway. Robert didn’t say anything. Neither did Doug.

  3

  Robert and Doug hurried back to the car. Doug seemed confident that no one had followed them, but Robert gave in to the frequent urge to look behind them about a dozen times. Each time there was no sign of anyone back there. When they entered the car, both Amy and Jill looked back at them and asked, “Where is Christopher?”

  Doug spoke before Robert had a chance and said, “Not here. We will find him. Trust me. Drive.”

  “Where is Mr. Lee?” Jill asked.

  Doug said, without a beat, “He is not coming. Now drive.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “The airport.”

  Jill started up the car and pulled off. Not a person uttered a sound. Not a person looked at one another. The further they drove away from the scene of their torture, the stronger and heavier the lump in the pit of their souls grew. Any hint of exuberance about being safe or going home paled in comparison to what consumed them.

  They retraced their path in silence, back past the hotel they’d woke up in, and continued east, the direction they saw the airport out the window of their room. They paused at an intersection, with the option to go right or left. Several traffic signs hung across the intersection. Two had arrows pointing left of them, under sets of Chinese characters. The remaining three had arrows pointing right. A honk roared from the line of cars behind them. Jill looked at Amy and then back to Robert and Doug in the backseat. All but one returned a blank stare, reflecting their understanding of the signs. Doug pointed her to the right. The city streets transitioned into a multilane interstate, Jill gripped the steering wheel tighter and stayed in the inside lane as cars zipped past them. Without a word, Doug tapped her on the shoulder and motioned for her to move to the left lane.