Beyond the Ice - LITRPG, Progression

By Tall Owl

Addicted to drugs, living on the riverbanks of his hometown, and practically disowned from his family, Lyle finds himself staring down the barrel of a painful death after borrowing money from some gangsters in his town. Seeing no other way out of his mess of a life, he steps in front of a semi-truck, only to be pulled out of the welcoming light by a business woman who offers him a contract that sounds too good to be true. As he had nothing left to lose, he decides to accept this suspicious offer. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tall Owl
• Release date: Nov 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223935650

Book preview

Beyond

the

Ice

Chapter 1:

Just one more hit… I mutter as I shamble down the lamp-lit street. My shoes clacked against the sidewalk as the goat heads stuck on the soles smacked against the sidewalk.

A silver pickup rushed by, casting cold wind and disparaging glances. I raise my ratty hoodie up over my head to deflect both.

Almost hit me, fucking bastard!

I throw up both of my middle fingers at the truck idling at the red light down the street and continue on my way.

Just one more hit, and I’ll go straight…

I watch the road beneath; hoping that someone had dropped a bill. The yellow light of the street lights glared off shards of a shattered beer bottle like Ice. My body ached as I pulled my eyes away from it, and focused once more on the gutter. One more hit. I scratch my forearms, and then at my chin. I glance around desperately at the sidewalks and the street. I need something — anything to get my head out of the clouds.

C’mon! You’re going to take that much off? It’s just one!

Across the street, on the other sidewalk, a woman wearing a black pen-striped business dress clacked her way on high-heeled shoes down the sidewalk talks loudly into her flip phone.

Yeah, I know I promised 50, but taking 10% off the total seems a bit too absurd...yes, yes I know it’s part of the contract. Yes...fine, I still have… She lowers her phone down and then raises it to her ear, I still have a day. I’ll have the last one signed before then, okay? Yes, I’m sure...fine, fine. Okay.

She sighs loudly as she lowered her phone into the leather purse hanging at her side, and glances in my direction. I quickly glance away, and back to the sidewalk in front of me and step away. Before even a few seconds had passed, I hear the familiar clicking of her heels behind me.

Excuse me! She calls out in my direction. Was she talking to me?

I chance a glance backward, and this woman quickly approaches. Her long, straight black hair bobbed with every step, like a lure hooked onto a fishing line cast in the deep, moving with the undulations of the wave. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes caught the glint of a passing car and shone it back in a way that betrayed the smile she wore on her pink lips. Her little nose was pulled back in a sneer that she tried to keep away from her mouth, though it curled the corners of her lips just a little. As the wind blew past her, the faintest smell of vanilla wafted over to me, mixed with a little bit of something else I couldn’t place; like copper or iron. My stomach churns, as an inexplicable dread fills me. I pull up my shoulders and turn around. No chance in hell she was talking to me.

Excuse me, sir? I feel a tap against my shoulder.

I spin around and take a few steps back.

What d’you want? I stumble on my words. Her eyes pierce through me like a hot bullet.

I have an opportunity for you. She fishes through her bag and pulls out a small notebook. What’s your name?

Was this some sort of prank? I look around the street for the glint of a camera stuffed in some bush, or some man hiding in plain sight before looking back at the woman and shaking my head.

What do you want? I ask, tucking my arms into my pits to keep the cold out, and to cover my chest just in case.

To offer you a job.

No, what’s your goal, huh?

I glance around. There must be cameras or something, right? Or maybe she’s just doing this for kicks. Or maybe she has a group waiting nearby to stab me for my coat or for what little change I have in my pocket. Yeah, that must be it. I turn around and begin to walk away. What good would a job do for me right now? My head throbs as another car tears down on the other side of the street; casting its brights over the two of us.

One more hit, that’s all I need. I pray as I turn my head down to the shade of the ground. One more hit to ease the never-ending headache. To go to sleep, please god, just one more hit and I’m done and I’ll go straight, please, God.

Here, let me give you my business card before you leave. She spoke again.

I turn around as she digs through her purse. I glance around and begin backing away slowly, toward the direction of a lamp post.

Ah, there it is.

She pulls something out of her purse and I sprint toward the lamppost before glancing back. In between her pinched finger was the glimmer of something gold. She approaches me and hands it to me. The card is heavy and metallic. Is this real gold? I try to bend it before reading it.

"Zhi Chen;  White Co. Talent Acquisition

[e-mail]

+ 1 199-200-1865."

If you change your mind, give me a call before midnight tonight.

I don’t have a phone.

Ah, just keep it on your person then. Just in case.

Okay. I back away some more until I’m sure that the woman wasn’t following me, then I take off in a mad dash until I vanish over the crest of the small hill.

I stuff it into my front pocket. I wonder if I’d be able to pawn it off for like a ten or a twenty. That’d be enough to buy a hit; even if it was a small one. But at least it-’d allow me to focus on getting more money to get my last one. At least it’d get rid of the pounding in my head, and the panic that flushed through my body every moment of these long, long days.

It was eight o’clock, however, and the pawn shops were closed. Perhaps, I could sell this to someone in my family. It's definitely gold. Definitely. Selling it to them for 20 bucks would be a fucking steal. I cross the road. A car blares by, laying on his horn, and I throw up a pair of fingers at him as I step onto the sidewalk, the large white truck pulls to the side of the road, and a fat hillbilly steps out. His jeans jangled as the keys hung on the belt swung with every step. His curly, red beard bobbed as he snarls at me.

Get out of the road, fucking druggie!

Ffffffuck you! You almost hit me! Bitch.

The man steps away from his car and approaches me.

James! Get back in the car!

I throw my arms up on either side of me, asking him to bring it. He closes the distance in the time it takes me to blink, swings, and lays me flat on the ground. My head bounces off the concrete once, twice as stars form in the corners of my vision. The man stands over me and hocks a glob of spit on my face.

JAMES GET IN THE CAR, NOW. YOUR KIDS ARE WATCHING.

The hillbilly kicks my leg as he passes once more and steps into the car. I wait on the ground for the truck to pull away before pushing myself off the ground and into a sitting position. I rub my chin and the back of my head. Perhaps it was the numbing effects of the drugs, but the only thing I felt at that moment is a dull thud; as if someone in the distance was hammering loudly on a piece of wood. At least the headache hadn’t gotten any worse.

My bones begin to ache and the world begins to swirl. I felt sleep pulling at me. I needed another hit before it took me. I’d be out for a couple of days, and some guys I owe money to would be looking for me. I glance around. The woman was gone, and the streets were all but empty. All the better. I needed one more hit. One more hit and I’ll skip town and go straight, but where could I get the money? The image of my mother, father, sister her husband, and my brother flash through my mind. They were all well off, surely they could lend a few bucks.

I turn my feet in the direction of my parent’s house and stumbled my way there. It wasn’t far. They lived in one of the older houses along Mill Street, and it wasn’t that far away, as I lived in a tent along the Tule River only about a mile or so away from the old family house, so that if I ever needed it, I’d have a safety net.

By the end of the hour, I was on Mill. My parent’s house sat near the end of the street, where the sidewalk joined Murry Park. It was a large, mint green house, made back in the Victorian era. One car sat in the carport, and two cars sat against the curb. Oh. Right. It was my younger brother’s birthday today. Good, perhaps I could ask all of them for a little bit of money.

I stagger up to the door; nearly falling off the wooden banisters as I knock on the door. Rowdy conversation bled out from behind the pale blue door. Three loud raps and the conversation stops as a pair of heavy feet stomp toward the front. I wince as the door swung open. My brother stands there, laughing merrily at some comment made in the living room. He looks well. A thick, heavy beard hangs on his heavy face, and he wears a heavy blue sweater.

The laughter still on my brother’s face falls as he turns toward me.

What the fuck are you doing here, Lyle?

I hear a heavy sigh from the living room, and the sound of hurried feet coming to the door. My father’s wrinkled face pushes through the gap in between the door and George's large body.

I told you to never show your face around me ever again.

Dad, are you serious?

Yes. You stole your mother’s pills, Lyle. Do you know how much grief it caused us when the police came a pounding at our door demanding to know why a bottle of her pain pills was found at the scene of an overdose?

He slams his fist against the door.

Dad, I said I’m sorry.

No, you didn’t. You asked for more money.

Oh. Sorry.

And you know what? We forgave you for that. We did, and when you came around the time after that, what did you do?

I shrug and scratch the irritating itch on the back of my neck.

My brother sneers.

You stole my bank card and drained my account. Do you know how much that hurt us?

You guys have a lot of money, I say.

Money, money, money, that’s all you ask about anymore, George says. Did you know that Sarah had a kid recently? Did you know that I recently got engaged and got my doctorate? Of course, you didn’t, why? Because you only think about three things: money, meth, and yourself.

That’s not fair… I say. It’s just-

Lyle, just get out of here. My older sister, Sarah says.

I just wanted to talk.

There’s nothing to talk about to it. You’re NOTHING to us. George says as he steps out of the house.

He steps towards me and forces me to the bottom of the staircase with his sheer size.

Come on, are you serious?

Are you tweaking right now? Oh my god, you are.

No! That’s why I came here.

You finally quit?

I scratch my neck and my wrist.

Yeah! I just...I just need one more hit before I go straight. I swear I’ll go straight. My arms itch. My neck itch and I can see my brother’s neck bulge. I look away from his eyes.

So why are you here?

George crosses his arm.

I just need a couple of bucks, lik—

My brother slams his fist into my face, and I go down, hard. I slam the back of my head on the cement. He rushes down the stairs and lands a couple of strong kicks to my side. A rib or two snaps, and he grabs the hood of my hoodie and drags me across the street. I grab hold of lamp posts, mailboxes: anything, I could to stop him.

If you won’t leave, I’ll make you leave.

Dad, are you really letting him do this?

My father turned away, and I see the eyes of my mother watching through the door.

Mom?

Come inside after you’re done, George. She called out as she closed the door.

He kicks me again until I let go of whatever I grab on. He drags me across the road and rams me into whatever he could on the way there. I punch backward into his thigh, but my hits don’t seem to do anything to him. He pulls me up the end of the cul-de-sac, and pulls me up the slight climb up into Murray Park.

What are you doing, George? I’ll leave, I’ll leave!

I’m teaching you a lesson you piece of shit.

Help! Help! He’s trying to kill me!

George drops me and slams a haymaker into my face. My nose crumbles, and my vision blurs. Warm blood flows down my nose and into my mouth as I struggle to breathe through it. Light touches the edge of my vision and darts across my eyes as he dragged me over the grass, and then cement. He yanks me to my feet and shoves me back into the old, stagnant pond.

I sink below its stinking surface as the ducks and geese squawk loudly as they flap away. I push against the bottom of the pond and grasp at the water until I surface once more.

Stay the fuck away from Mom and Dad.

Wha—what do you want me to do? I say as I barely tread the water.

You can die for all I care.

He pulled something from his pocket and tossed it on the water in front of me. It was a single dollar bill.

That’s the last thing you’ll ever get from any of us, do you understand.

I snatch it and my brother’s look of disgust deepens as he walks away.

Fucking animal.

"A single dollar? Really? Fucking piece of shit. Fucking cheapskate, don’t you make 40,000 a year? Really? Couldn’t

He doesn’t turn around and I continue cursing him out until I finally managed to paddle myself ashore. Once I pull myself out of the pond. The rage, however, quickly drains away with the water dripping off my soggy clothes. Now what? The burning rage cools and congeals into a deep sorrow. Really? A dollar? That’s all I was worth for them? So what if I made a few mistakes? I wring out my shirt and curse some more.

I schlep down the side of the road towards Putnam. A car rushes by and I’m smacked in the chest with a paper cup. I recognize the car as one that had been in front of my parent’s house. Bastards. Why are they so against me? All I need is one more hit, and I will straighten out my life. Why wouldn’t they just give me that? I spit on the ground. One of my teeth comes out with it. Fuck.

My eyes burn and an ugly sob breaks free from my throat. What a shitty day. What a shitty week. What a shitty year...what a shitty life. If only I could change it. If only I could finally move on from this fucking addiction and get on with my life, and make the pride return to my