Dead Man's Phone Game Novels & Stories

I could feel my pulse match the rhythm of them. Ramson leaned into me, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I downloaded this new game on the plane before we eventually took off,” he whispered, tilting the screen so I could see. The pixelated characters ran across a scrolling background, jumping over obstacles. I smiled, grateful for the distraction. “Looks tough.” “It’s easy once you get the timing right,” he said, fingers moving quickly. His voice was casual, oblivious to the fact that the man in the driver’s seat could be thinking a million unspoken things about him.

is closest. After the bodies are safely hidden until the morning trash removal when I’ll already be long gone, I stand the empty shells of armor back up as if the stagnant guards remain at their posts, which assists in avoiding detection before I’m finished and out. If I’m able to get inside of the main building of the estate without killing additional guards by using discrete entrances such as picking locked wine cellar doors, picking locked windows on a higher floor level, or using maintenance tunnels, I do. I use my knowledge of the maps I study for each estate infiltration, usually popping a panel from the ceilings and traveling between the ceilings or roofs using the wooden support bea

"Kill me right here on your expensive carpet. See how fast your empire finishes burning. Or, you can take the bargain, save what little dignity you have left, and control how you go down. Because one way or another, Sterling... your time is up." Then all of a sudden, he gave off a smile, the frantic desperation on his face twisting into something deeply sinister. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, making a quick call. "Get in here. Now." Within seconds, the heavy wooden door burst open and four large, imposing men descended into the room. "Since your phone needs to continue pinging its location, that's fine," Sterling chuckled, his voice dripping with malice as he looked do

A few days after Scarlett's panicked escape, I got a call from an unfamiliar number. The moment I picked up, an anxious voice came through the line. "Hello, is this Ms. Felicity Quinn? This is the city police department. Scarlett Thorne has passed away in an accident. You're listed as her emergency contact, so we need you to confirm her identity." Elio and I exchanged a glance and rushed to the scene. The police had brought the two children with them.

He didn't even try to dodge the falling debris. His lips shaped three words. Once, they meant everything. From him, they just made me sick. Nolan went down with the game, buried under the rubble. All that was left—bright red blood and a fallen wedding ring, stained with it. I looked down at my ring finger. I left the ring— and walked away. I restarted the game. Rebuilt it with new funding. Five years later, it launched. It blew up. One day, while playing, I spotted a glitch.

"Congratulations, Molly Hampton and Riley Johnson, for successfully conquering the last stage, 'Survival of the Fittest'! Both of you have beaten 'Magnet Apocalypse'! "The 100 million dollar prize pool will be evenly split and sent to your accounts. Players who failed to survive till the end of the game will be eliminated by the system in real life. The game will be shutting down in ten…nine—" "Time for us to go back," Riley murmured, sounding relieved. I hummed in response, looking down at the murky waters around my feet. The scenery around me warped when the countdown reached zero, and I found myself lying on my bed in my rented apartment in the next second.

Another guy said. I felt my internal alarms go off and tensed up. “The beds are on the floor and there is no underneath them!” Jasmine lied. “Come on man, don’t keep cock blocking me! Look at this tight little thing!” I heard a fit of giggles that sounded like the fakest laugh I have ever heard. A phone started to ring, “Sir?” silence, “yes sir, I-” pause, “Okay sir.” click. Mr. Adams is ready to get into his room now. I should expect more cooperation from here on out.

I sit there holding my phone in my hand just looking at it. Adam takes my phone and tries to call back but as was expected it went dead when the call back button was pressed. Although it was a private number, Adam had a technique to track the call back to the owner. It must have been a burner phone because he was unable to do anything.

I’m shocked, scared, and unable to figure out why he looked so familiar. Sam takes off after the guy, and I stand there, rooted to the spot for a moment before I shake myself and get my phone from the floor. The screen has blacked out, and I hold it up, unlocking it with facial recognition, and call 911. “911. What is the location of your emergency?” the dispatcher asks.

He pulled out his phone, snapped photos of the carnage, close-ups of the dead men’s faces, their YBA tattoos stark against cooling skin. Then he angled the camera down at my boots in the blood, my legs spattered crimson, my eyes wild and bright in the flash. He typed with one thumb using a unknown number to send him a message. “Your men are dead. Your product is ash. Next time it’s you.“ He hit send, then turned the screen so I could see the little blue checkmark. Delivered. Then he pocketed the phone, grabbed the back of my neck, and kissed me hard, right there in the middle of the bodies.