I Am Gamer Read online

  I

  AM

  GAMER

  Book 1

  By:

  Gabriel L. Rathweg

  Text copyright © 2018 by Gabriel L. Rathweg

  Warrior Academy, characters, names, and related indica are trademarks of © Gabriel L. Rathweg. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

  SPOTIFY LINK:

  https://open.spotify.com/user/grathweg/playlist/1diXeefepLbZsL7TS6raq1?si=R_YWtxQLT1exOm1CuulkvA

  YOUTUBE LINK:

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JE-dqW4uBEE&list=PL4EpaEEUcnmcQC4cJvJVly4KwvJ3fgwqV

  To Maggie, you are my love, my heart, and my inspiration. You make me believe in love, life, and magic. (P.S. I love the kitties too.)

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TRACK 1 – BLISTER IN THE SUN – VIOLENT FEMMES

  TRACK 2 – STORY OF MY LIFE – SOCIAL DISTORTION

  TRACK 3 – BITCH, DON’T KILL MY VIBE – KENDRICK LAMAR

  TRACK 4 – BITTER SWEET SYMPHONY – THE VERVE

  TRACK 5 – HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN – THE ANIMALS

  TRACK 6 – GOT YOUR MONEY (FEAT. KELIS) – OL’ DIRTY BASTARD, KELIS, RICH TRAVALI

  TRACK 7 – CHELSEA DAGGER – THE FRATELLIS

  TRACK 8 – WILD WILD LIFE – TALKING HEADS

  TRACK 9 – YOU GET WHAT YOU GIVE – NEW RADICALS

  TRACK 10 – ONE MORE TIME – DAFT PUNK

  TRACK 11 – YOUNG FOLKS – PETER BJORN AND JOHN

  TRACK 12 – SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL – THE ROLLING STONES

  TRACK 13 – UNDONE-THE SWEATER SONG – WEEZER

  TRACK 14 – WHERE IT’S AT – BECK

  TRACK 15 – IN THE MEANTIME – SPACEHOG

  TRACK 16 – THE START OF SOMETHING – VOXTROT

  TRACK 17 – THE KIDS DON’T STAND A CHANCE (CHROMEO REMIX) – VAMPIRE WEEKEND

  TRACK 18 – WALK THIS WAY – RUN-D.M.C., AEROSMITH

  TRACK 19 – SUNDAY MORNING – MAROON 5

  TRACK 20 – ALL THESE THINGS THAT I’VE DONE – THE KILLERS

  TRACK 21 – POSSUM KINGDOM – TOADIES

  TRACK 22 – HANDLEBARS – FLOBOTS

  TRACK 23 – IF I HAD $1,000,000 – BARENAKED LADIES

  TRACK 24 – COOL IT NOW – NEW EDITION

  TRACK 25 – CRY BABY – JANIS JOPLIN

  TRACK 26 – DAMN IT FEELS GOOD TO BE A GANGSTER – GETO BOYS

  TRACK 27 – THINKING OUT LOUD – ED SHEERAN

  TRACK 28 – STAND BY ME – FLORENCE + THE MACHINE

  TRACK 29 – CHAMPAGNE SUPERNOVA – OASIS

  TRACK 30 – POOL PARTY – THE AQUABATS

  TRACK 31 – REDBONE – CHILDISH GAMBINO

  TRACK 32 – TURN IT UP/FIRE IT UP (REMIX) – BUSTA RHYMES

  TRACK 33 – WHAT’S THE FREQUENCY, KENNETH? – R.E.M.

  TRACK 34 – GOT YOU (WHERE I WANT YOU) – THE FLYS

  TRACK 35 – BRAND NEW COLONY – THE POSTAL SERVICE

  TRACK 36 – COMMON PEOPLE – PULP

  TRACK 37 – I FEEL IT COMING – THE WEEKEND, DAFT PUNK

  TRACK 38 – MAYOR OF SIMPLETON - XTC

  TRACK 39 – 1979 – THE SMASHING PUMPKINS

  TRACK 40 – SOME KIND OF WAY – JIDENNA

  TRACK 41 – GET LUCKY – DAFT PUNK, PHARRELL WILLIAMS, NILE RODGERS

  TRACK 42 – DANCE THE NIGHT AWAY – VAN HALEN

  TRACK 43 – BAD ROMANCE – LADY GAGA

  TRACK 44 – D’YER MAK’ER – LED ZEPPLIN

  TRACK 45 – GRENADE (PASSION PIT REMIX) – BRUNO MARS, PASSION PIT

  TRACK 46 – GANGSTER TRIPPIN – FATBOY SLIM

  TRACK 47 – MOVE THIS (SHAKE THAT BODY) – TECHNOTRONIC

  TRACK 48 – GROOVY KIND OF LOVE – PHIL COLLINS

  EPILOGUE TRACK – RILL RILL – SLEIGH BELLS

  AFTERWORD

  SNEAK PEAK

  I

  AM

  GAMER

  TRACK 1 – BLISTER IN THE SUN – VIOLENT FEMMES

  The day was perfect. A bright blue sky as wide as the eye could see, with puffy white clouds scattered randomly across the perfect tableau, dominated my view. Which while beautiful it was in complete contrast to my mood and really did not make me feel the way it should have. As a matter of fact, I would have preferred a thunder storm replete with dark gray clouds and lightning bolts firing staccato blasts from the heavens, to this beautiful picturesque morning.

  My bike roared as I gunned the engine and sped up passing the old beat up teal and white Chevy pickup in front of me. Glancing to the side as I passed I looked inside the cab of the truck and my eyes widened. Inside was a super hot red head driving the POS truck. She looked over at the same instant and we locked eyes, it was almost as if she could see past the tint on my motorcycle helmet. Wow, even hotter than I first thought, then I was past her truck and speeding on up the highway.

  “Grrrrr…” Westley growled.

  I flicked my eyes down and checked on my best friend. He was still wrapped up tightly and attached to my chest in his cat burrito. If you don’t know what that is, it’s basically a Baby Bjorn for cats. If you still don’t know what that is, then picture a bag or holder type device attached to your chest like a synthetic Kangaroo pouch specifically made to carry your kitty cat with you on journeys.

  Westley was my Maine Coon cat. He was grey and white and was the size of a medium size dog. I mean he weighed forty pounds. He had a face that was set up so he almost looked like a raccoon, in fact he looked so much like one I almost named him Tanuki. The special thing about him is that he really was like a dog. Westley would follow me around, play fetch, and learn tricks. He could sit, lie down, give me his paw, and he loved to go outside with me no matter whether it was running, hiking, camping, and even surfing. Like I said, he was a special cat.

  My ex and I got him on deaths door from the Humane Society and nursed him back to health. We actually named him before we found out about his personality. Which is why his nickname is Freak, the cat is absolutely wild. He clawed, jumped on, and basically destroyed our entire apartment when he finally got healthy. We were on the edge of getting rid of him until I figured out that he needed to be treated like a dog and voilá problem solved.

  Currently Freak was wrapped up in his burrito so he couldn’t move a millimeter and was glaring at me with utter contempt radiating from his florescent green eyes. He was fine, just pissed at being confined. I grinned and refocused on the road. Only a moment had passed but you couldn’t take your attention off the road for too long when on a bike, bad things can happen, especially when you’re driving eighty miles an hour.

  Focused on the road again I kept going down the interstate until I hit the turn off and exited on Cimarron giving a mental salute to the redheaded hottie as my bike entered the off ramp. It was still early, only 0730 on a Wednesday morning, so not many other drivers were out on the road yet. The masses would be out and about using all the beautiful open spaces during the weekend. It was a guarantee that if the weather was good in Colorado Springs then ninety-nine percent of people would be out hiking, running, mountain biking, and all the other plethora of outside activities. Today though it was sparse, my buddy Mikey and I were meeting up and having an emergency camping session. What’s the emergency and why would you have a camping session for said emergency?

  The answer to the first is simple. Remember the girlfriend I saved Freak with? I went home last night and walked in on her fucking another dude. And, while that in and of itself is bad enough, it was made even exponentially worse when I realized the guy she was sitting on top of bare breasts bouncing on our be
d. In our bedroom no less, was my best friend, well other best friend, Joseph. Fucking bitches! Both of them… Anyway, where was I? Oh yes…

  The second part of the question was why camping? Our camping sessions were basically just drunken drug fests festooned with bouts of hiking, hunting, and hilarity. My bikes saddle bags were full of a few ounces of Colorado’s finest, a couple handles of Jack Daniels, some food and water, and a few other odds and ends.

  My bedroll was tied to the seat behind me along with my compound bow and quiver of hunting arrows. I know most people didn’t carry a bow and arrow but bow hunting was IMHO the only real way to hunt. Plus, my father did it and it was the only way the two of us could ever really connect, well that and bikes. He loved motorcycles. It was the main reason I did as well. He was an introverted kind of guy and didn’t say much. The kind of guy who was real quiet but when he said anything everyone listened. That’s why I hunted and rode a motorcycle it was the only way we could connect.

  As a matter of fact the bike I was riding was the last one that we had worked on together before he passed. It was kind of like every time I rode it my dad was with me. Man… enough of that, tears were not good when you were riding a bike, moving on. I have to admit motorcycles were not the best way to travel with a cat and camping gear but I made do.

  Besides, the 1963 Triumph Bonneville, just like the one Steve McQueen used to ride, was my favorite thing, not living anyway, that I owned. I had named him Winston after my favorite Ghostbusters character, and my dad.

  TRACK 2 – STORY OF MY LIFE – SOCIAL DISTORTION

  Mikey and I were meeting at the parking area at the midway base of the mountain and then hiking the rest of the way up to the tip of Pikes Peak. We’d hunt, camp, and see if I could drown out the images of my ex banging my ex friend out of my head. Joseph was the third person that usually joined us on our camping sessions. Obviously he wasn’t invited to this one. I pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine.

  Standing up and stretching I took my helmet off and looked around the parking area. No other vehicles were there. Freak was meowing relentlessly so I let him out of the burrito he jumped down to began surveying the area as animals do, sniffing what needed sniffing and spraying what needed spraying. I pulled the phone out of my pocket and checked it for the last time before I went out since there was zero service once we got out on the mountain. Screw the rest of the world, I didn’t need my phone.

  I had a bunch of missed calls from my ex whom I shall refer to as ‘she who shall not be named’ and a bunch from Joseph, fuck that guy, and then a couple from Mickey as well as texts. I checked the texts first.

  “God dammit!” I swore.

  Mikey’s text said that he got called into work, he was a deputy sheriff, and that there was an emergency. He was really sorry he couldn’t make it but would come out as soon as he could.

  Well this put a damper on things. It sucked that I was now rolling solo but I was still going. The only alternative was to head home and confront the situation. There was no way I was doing that. Fuck it, time to gear up and head out. Mikey would meet me or he wouldn’t either way I was going up that damn mountain and getting wild. I unstrapped the cat burrito and set it on the bike. I looked around one more time and confirmed that we, Freak and I, were still alone.

  “Hey Freak let me know if someone comes I’m gonna change.” I jokingly told my cat.

  “Mreoww!” Freak responded.

  SMH… sometimes I swear that cat understood me. One more check, we were still alone so I did a quick parking lot change, exchanging my motorcycle jacket and pants for more comfortable hiking attire.

  It was the beginning of June and Colorado Springs, otherwise known just as The Springs, was perfect this time of year. The temperature was, on average, in the low seventies all day and only got down to the high fifties at night. It was the ideal time of the year for any and all outdoor activities.

  Now fully changed I checked myself over and nodded in satisfaction, I was ready for battle. Hatchet check, bowie knife check, camelback check, back pack, Jack Daniels and Coors Light check, bedroll with bow, quiver, and jacket wrapped inside check.

  I was wearing a black T-Shirt, made of special material for sweating, and some tan cargo pants to hold some of my gear and my old military issued boots. I don’t care what anyone says, they are the best all around boot for going out into the wilderness bar none. Nike even made a special edition and they were damn comfortable as well. Civilians called them Ruck Boots, anyone who had served just called them boots. My outfit along with my long black samurai topknot and East Asian features made me look almost comical, like a bad stereotype.

  In all honesty I probably looked like a person playing a cross between the construction worker, cowboy, and Indian from the Village People, but I didn’t care. Comfort and functionality were what was important. Screw what I looked like at least that’s what I told myself. I turned and looked around for my cat. He was over by a field of flowers marking his territory on some especially pretty columbines. I whistled and he cocked his furry head my way.

  “Let’s rock Freak.” I called.

  “Mreeeoowww!” He responded, having finished his business and bounded my way.

  Surveying the path before me and the surrounding area I frowned. The sun was shining, the blue sky was open and glorious, the grass was a vibrant green, and the mountain in the background made the best Bob Ross picture I could imagine. It was hard to be in a shitty mood with this view then I remembered what happened and grimaced. I cranked my music up and my headphones blared as I stepped onto the path.

  “Hellz yeah!” I fist pumped and called to the air around me. I loved this song it always got my blood pumping.

  Freak led the way darting this way and that about fifteen ahead of me on the path. There wasn’t a flower, rock, or patch of grass that didn’t catch his interest.

  I set a wicked pace, my arms and legs pumping to the beat of the music. I felt almost like I was attacking the mountain. The quicker I climbed the mountain the more I won at my made up game. My head bobbed to the beat and my attention was focused in front of me, not on the ideal scenery. I began moving so fast that I was almost running, I set an even more brutal pace and Freak had to stop checking every flower and rock out to keep up. His meows of protest were just audible over my music.

  My little beast could handle the pace he was just annoyed at not being able to check out everything. We continued our climb and I didn’t slacken my pace. Song after song played and I just moved, zoning out and emptying my mind of all thoughts. Well, the only thought that was in my brain was my cheating ex girlfriend and douche-tard ex best friend. The hike and speed helped and eventually I was just focused on the sixty degree incline I was moving up and the blare of my music.

  I jumped over rocks and clambered up inclines using my hands in conjunction with my feet. Freak was right alongside me moving up the pathway like a mountain goat. The two of us kept going and the shadows changed as the sun passed overhead on its daily journey. We had been moving for some time and I noticed the sun was now directly overhead. Plus, Freak was kind enough to start mewling louder and began bumping into me regularly. He was an excellent alarm clock. Awakened almost as if from a daze I realized it was lunch time.

  I spotted a nice area on the pathway ahead that my friends and I had eaten at before. There was a large rock perfect for sitting on and eating at. The place also was at the tip of the end of the first part of the trail. The view was pretty nice. It looked out over the city of Manitou Springs.

  I pulled the pack from my shoulders and grabbed the water and some jerky. I munched on some while I poured water into a bowl and set some jerky down for Freak. I stood up and leaned against the rock wall chewing the dried meat and sipping water from the bottle every now and then. I looked out over the town and remembered times when my girlfriend… I mean my ex girlfriend… I grimaced and turned from the view and put my stuff away.

  “Let’s go Freak.” I said, snagg
ing his bowl and dumping the dregs of water out.

  “Mreeoww.” He protested.

  Ignoring my cat, he had had plenty of water and meat he was just being a prima donna. I shouldered my pack and started off again. This next part of the trail was tougher. The vertical went up to seventy degrees in places and the altitude made breathing an exercise all in itself. I began moving faster and harder trying to shake the images from my mind. The exercise and difficulty began to do its job and I got back into that zone where just the music and the hike were in my head.

  I hit the last ridge of this trail and as I topped it I saw Barr Camp in the distance. That was the last stop with any semblance of civilization on the way to the tip of Pike’s Peak. Freak was already running this way and that around the camp, which was just a few log cabin structures, looking for whatever caught his interest. Turning the music off on my headphones I began scanning the area as well. But just as in the parking lot no one was here either.

  While a little unusual it wasn’t unheard of for no one to be out this early during the week but it was a little uncommon. I decided to look through the cabins just in case. A few minutes later I confirmed my suspicions and found no one in the camp. The only building I hadn’t checked yet was the Ranger’s Post. I had saved it for last on purpose. The Ranger’s Post’s held messages for climbers and hikers if no one was in a camp.

  There were no doors and the building was mostly just a roofed structure with four walls and a doorway. Inside was a board with notices on it, a table, and couple of chairs, nothing fancy and all very rustic. I made a beeline to the board. I scanned all the notices most of them were old and out of date. Fire watch on these days, bear attacks so be careful, watch out for wolves and mountain lions, blah… blah… blah… Finally I saw a notice that made sense.

  How could I have forgotten that it was Labor Day yesterday, the notice said the government employees all had the days off for the week, government holiday. Well that explains that, typical government jobs getting all these days off while us tax payers had to work. I chuckled to myself at that thought. I worked from home now as a writer so I didn’t worry about work days and such.