I woke up to gunshots and a scream. Nothing out of the ordinary living under the expressway. Whatever was going on was close, but it wasn’t here. My head still in a Z fog, I tried to go back to sleep, but I heard Raggeddy Renee outside my tent.

  “Will, you got any-ting for me?”

  I sat up and unzipped my tent. There was Renee, her skin as leathery as ever.

  “Nothing, unless you want a hit of Z.”

  Renee looked at me with her sad eyes. “I don’t need none of that. You got any water?”

  “Sorry, Renee, but if you bring me your water jug, I’ll fill it.”

  “Tanks. You’re a good person. Most of the time anyway.” Renee shuffled off.

  Another gun shot. Another scream. Those were closer, but this was a city built on screams. I didn’t give the sounds a second thought.

  Black mounds of unwashed hair, the skin of his arms covered with cheap tattoos of dice and dragons, Kane emerged from the tent beside mine. “We still going to Saint Thomas’ Health System today?”

  I studied my half-brother’s face. “Yeah.”

  “Good. I miss her, Will. All the time.”

  I was about to speak when a big armored truck with BioZone painted on the side skidded to a stop right in front of our tents and a half dozen dudes in all black riot gear jumped out of the truck, firing weapons into the air.

  One of the guards grabbed Renee and she screamed.

  My first instinct was to grab for my lucky baseball bat and fight off the tough who grabbed Renee, but Kane grabbed me instead, fear in his eyes. “Let’s go, Will!”

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  The armored goons kicked down tents and grabbed bums, thrashing them, and dragging them to the armored truck.

  Not getting arrested was rule number one on the street. Kane and I took off, but a guard stepped in Kane’s way and zapped him with a taser. Kane dropped to the ground, convulsing and blubbering.

  “This one’ll make good food for the crocs!” laughed the guard.

  “Yeah, whattya think his class will be? Crocodile Chef?” said one guard.

  “Crocodile Chef? You idiot. That’d be someone that delivered food to the crocs, not someone about to land between their jaws. This guy’s a guaranteed Coffin Tester.”

  “Punks!” I yelled, as rage took over. I took three quick steps before tackling the guard that had tased Kane and knocking him down to the ground. I jumped back up and ran to pick up Kane, but two more armored guards were already dragging him to the armored truck.

  I couldn’t leave Kane, my half-brother. I was all he had left after he’d lost not one but two moms. But the Z shakes picked that moment to come on. Waves of cold radiated through my veins. Nausea rolled across my stomach. I heard a scream, a tortured howl. Despite the Z fog, I realized I was the screamer. Other than the involuntary shaking, I couldn’t get myself to move. A beefy guard with a taser stood over me scowling. “Who’s the punk now? Hope you like getting turned into rat food!” Then his stick buzzed into my flesh, and I fell to the ground. Someone picked me up by an arm and dragged me across the pavement.

  As they dragged my slack body to the truck, I thought about the home I was losing, streets pockmarked by addicts hunting Z, the drug that made you dream while it sucked your soul. I thought of mom teaching me to slip food in my pockets while we walked through a store. I thought of all the fights, of staying on guard to make it to the next day. Tomorrow was always another teeth-baring jackal, waiting for me to fail.

  And now I was failing, and I couldn’t fail. I lived and died on my own terms. The Z shakes now gone, I grabbed the guard’s holstered gun with my free arm. “This is for Kane!” Safety off, I squeezed off three rounds into him and watched him fall. As soon as he was down, I was on top of him, ready to fire again, but he was already getting cold. I raced to the driver’s side of the BioZone truck and knocked on the door. The idiot driver actually opened it. His face a look of shock. Another three shots made a mess of the guy. I’d have felt bad, but these weren’t people; they were BioZone scum. I jumped up, pulled the slumped body out of the cab; hands grabbed at my arms and pulled me down, slamming me onto the street. I twisted away, grinned at the sight of two big guards and pulled the trigger. Nothing but clicks. I threw the gun at one of the guards and the other jabbed a sparking baton right in my stomach. A seismic wave of pain shot through my insides. This time I blacked out.

  Dream Dungeon by Treze is a gritty, in-your-face litRPG that alternates between making you laugh and making you squirm. Check it out!