The Turning: System Rebuild: A Post-Apocalyptic LitRPG by Kenny King

Author:Kenny King [King, Kenny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-03T16:00:00+00:00

Your map has been updated.

I opened up my map and saw an immediate waypoint not too far away, maybe just a half mile walk.

“You guys! I think we got a treasure map here!” I crowed happily, holding the dirty bar napkin above my head. Beside me, Ram Horns became a pile of dust, then dissolved from sight.

Following the waypoint, we cut behind the ruined convenience store and through some tall, unmanicured grass and guardrails to get to the opposite street. The small section of town immediately close to the 495 had seemed decent, especially near the convenience store, the hotels, and the sign for the casino we saw, but the more we moved, the simpler and almost run-down it became. It was clearly a patch of land that was always in development and in limbo, shadowed by the nearby highway. Weeds choked the cracks in the sidewalk, and litter was all over the place. I had a feeling it had been just as full of old trash even before the Turning. This was the kind of forgotten corner of the urban landscape that people threw their car trash out on.

I kicked an abandoned Jack Daniel’s bottle for a few feet as we rounded another overgrown corner to see a lot with two buildings on it, surrounded by a rusted chain-link fence.

Congratulations! a sudden notification read. You have found a secret location! Unlocked: Clubhouse.

The biker clubhouse was a rundown warehouse with a shoddy-looking garage attached to it via tarps and sheet metal. The exterior was painted a dark, matte black, with a large skull painted in white on the front door. The windows were covered with heavy black curtains, and skulls and spikey bits of metal and wrought iron flanked the front door, giving the building an ominous vibe. Car parts, bike parts, and large steel drums littered the property, and there was evidence of several parties and bonfires amidst all the mess. Tire tracks criss crossed through the dirt. I saw evidence of dogs that had been tied up, like thick rusted chains and dog bowls, but looking closer at the grit, sand, and gravel, the tracks that littered the space were… human.

I didn’t even want to think who or what they had tied up as “pets.”

The large door to the garage was pulled open. I saw nothing but the usual stuff inside. Most of the vehicles and bikes were in disrepair, but I made a note to check back for scrap Ludo could use when smithing.

Langley sniffed. “It’s clear. It smells bad, but old… I do not think the bikers are here now. Their smell is so strong, I can’t get a read on much else.”

I nodded. “Okay, just in case, we’ll move as a group.”

I pulled my shotgun out of inventory and took the lead. As we entered, we found the interior was just as foreboding. The walls were covered in graffiti, with various biker symbols and slogans scrawled everywhere. The main room had a long bar along one wall, stocked with various liquor bottles, glasses, and a few unopened beer cans.

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