PPD Ring
Quality: Good
Capacity: 100
This personal pocket dimension ring will store up to one hundred individual items in a secure private space. Items stored within will be preserved in a dimensional lock, unaffected by time. The physical weight of each object stored will be reduced to .001% of normal. Identical items such as currency or mass-produced items will stack within a single storage slot. Items within the storage inventory may not be removed by anyone other than the user. The item itself cannot be bound to the user, and thus may be stolen.
There were several other forms of PPDs, including bags, bracelets, charms, even undergarments. Some with greater capacity, some with less. But the ring was the most reasonably priced at two hundred klax. He purchased one for himself using his personal funds. After a moment’s thought, he purchased eight more using Stronghold funds. They had gained more than enough just from defeating the canids inside the Stronghold to pay for the rings. Leaving his quarters, he went directly to the market kiosk and logged in. A box appeared on the shelf behind the holo-display. When he retrieved and opened it, there were nine PPD rings inside.
He put one on his finger and Examined it. The description was exactly the same as the one the market interface gave. As a test, he touched his spear to the ring, and it disappeared. An inventory interface popped up, and he saw the spear occupying one slot in a ten by ten grid.
Several of the others were seated in the dining room having breakfast. He put some scrambled eggs and toast on a plate and sat to eat. When everyone was together, he stood up.
“Good morning, folks. First, I’d like to apologize for my rant yesterday. I must have seemed like a lunatic. I let my anger get the better of me, and I am sorry.”
He didn’t wait for replies. Either they’d let it slide or they wouldn’t. Instead, he held up the box. “And I’ll apologize for another thing while I’m at it. I made a command decision just now and spent sixteen hundred klax of Stronghold funds on these.”
He opened the box and began to hand them out. Chloe smiled prettily and blushed as he presented her ring with a flourish. He was glad to see no evidence of scarring on her face.
Each of them stared at the gift as he handed it to them.
Michael was predictably first. “Shit! You found bags of holding!”
When the others began to ask what that was, Michael launched into a description of the storage devices and why they were so handy to have around. He picked up a slice of bacon and touched it to his ring, making it disappear. Then he said, “Imagine you had a thousand strips of bacon. You could put them all in your ring, they’d only take up one slot, and would weigh almost nothing. Oh! And they’d never go bad. You could pull one out a year later and it would be as delicious as the day it was cooked.”
Sam scooted away from Meg slightly before asking, “So I could store ten cheesecakes in here?” Meg reached over and slapped the back of his head.
Michael laughed. “Or a hundred. And a hundred perfectly grilled steaks. Doesn’t matter. I’d have to read up a little about the limitations… but it’s possible you could store something as large as a car. Uh, don’t try that until we’re sure. Might destroy the ring and lose you whatever else you had stored in there. For now, let’s just stick with nothing bigger than… a beach ball.”
*****
Morning found Allistor once again alone. He was beginning to think the night with Amanda was either a one-time thing, the result of too much rum, or both. She hadn’t seemed uncomfortable around him at all afterwards, but then they hadn’t really been alone to talk.
The previous day had been dedicated to organization and preparation. Folks worked on their skills – developing the ones they’d already earned or attempting to achieve new ones. Michael had managed to pick up Blacksmithing by taking the bent shotgun apart, putting the barrel in the furnace that came with the crafting hall, and then using a heavy hammer to pound at it atop the anvil Allistor had found. The crafting hall had come with an anvil as well, but Michael had said he trusted the one he knew had been made on Earth.
Allistor had spent some time on his Weaponsmithing. He took the now-ruined shotgun from Michael when he was through with it and heated it again. He took turns heating and pounding at it until he had the rough approximation of a blade. It was maybe thirty inches long, double-edged with a thick spine. The point was a little blunt – Allistor had been concerned about it being too pointy and the tip breaking off.
When it had cooled, he took a file and began to sharpen the blade edges. After more than an hour working his way across the length of both edges, he went to work on the handle. Using another piece of the octopoid hide, he wrapped it around the handle. The moment it was tight, Allistor got a notification.
Your Weaponsmithing skill has increased by +1!
He Examined the weapon.
Basic Sword, One-handed
Quality: Common
Durability: 400/400
Damage: 200 slashing, 200 piercing
Then another notification came.
Your Improvisation skill his increased by +1
You took a ruined cast-off weapon and repurposed it into a viable blade.
At the end of the day, almost everyone had improved a skill at least once. Several interesting items had been crafted. The most popular of which was some beef jerky made by Sam that provided a buff of +1 to Stamina for three hours.
Lilly had added Leatherworking to her Tailoring by creating a simple sheath for Allistor’s sword. She had also taken a few of the canid hides and created several pairs of bracers. This had leveled both her Tailoring and Leatherworking. First, she’d sacrificed one of the hospital towels, cutting off pieces in a pattern that would match up to the bracers. Then she cut the leather into the same pattern, only slightly larger. And cut several thin strips of leather to use as laces. Setting the towel pieces inside the leather, she stitched them together to provide a soft lining and a small bit of additional protection. Then she ran the laces loosely through holes up and down either end of the leather in a crisscross pattern much like one would lace a shoe. She used Ramon as her guinea pig. Sliding his hand through and tightening the laces. She tied off the end, making sure the fit was snug. He moved and flexed his arm, saying it felt great. It was a little difficult to remove after being tightened, but with her helping, he was able to tug it off. She made a few modifications, and Ramon declared it perfect. She went on to make enough for everyone, even little Chloe.
Today Allistor planned to make them enough funds to expand their holdings, purchase better weapons, and do whatever else they needed to do to make absolutely certain they thrived on this new world. The auction on the Mustang was less than an hour from its end, and the high bid was thirty-eight thousand klax. There were still no other earth cars listed. He intended to take advantage of that for as long as possible.
Sitting with Sam at breakfast, he said, “How ‘bout we go find your friend’s Corvette?”
Sam nodded, his mouth full of bacon. He mumbled something unintelligible.
Turning to Michael, he said, “You and Ramon feel up to a road trip? There was a bench grinder in the hospital maintenance shop that I didn’t have time to unbolt. Might be some other useful items as well. But more importantly, I’d like you to check out the winery. If you can, bring back a truckload of their best wine. Each bottle might sell for as much as we paid for each of these rings. We’ll list a couple of cases first. If they become popular, we’ll restrict the sale to single bottles, and charge more!” He grinned at them.
“Right. Crafty stuff, then drunky stuff. Got it!” Ramon agreed. He stepped into the crafting hall where they’d stored all their tools and materials. A few minutes later he returned with a tool bag and two radios. He handed one radio to Sam. “The winery is ten miles out, but these radios are supposed to be able to cover the whole county. We can test that out today.”
Sam said, “If you get the chance to grab one of their box trucks, do it. Load i
t up and bring it back. The keys should be somewhere in the office. If not a truck, any usable vehicle would be good.”
Both trucks set off, Lilly waving at them as she waited to close the gates behind them. Allistor let Sam drive, since he knew where Frank’s house was. It only took a few minutes to reach the place once they got out of the debris-strewn streets of town. Both men were glad to see the house and separate three-car garage were intact.
Sam pulled up the long driveway and got out of the truck. Rifle in hand, he waited for Allistor to join him. The two approached the front door. It was standing slightly ajar, which wasn’t a good sign. Allistor went through the door first, his shotgun a more effective short-range weapon than Sam’s rifle.
The inside of the house was a mess. Not total chaos like the cafeteria had been, but the sofa was shredded, a china cabinet knocked over, and the dishes broken. They found what they assumed was all that was left of Frank – a large splattering of blood on the kitchen floor and cabinets. An S&W .45 lay on the floor nearby, locked open. Frank had managed to empty the magazine before he died. There were canid prints in the blood leading out the back door. Allistor closed the door and locked it, then did the same at the front door. The two men cleared the house, checking the basement and upper floors. When they were sure it was all clear, Sam went right to a cabinet next to the fridge. He grabbed a key ring and looked at Allistor. “The garage.”
The garage was thankfully undisturbed. And there was a treasure trove inside! The Corvette sat covered in the rightmost bay. Next to it was a long workbench covered in tools, with a six-foot-high multi-tiered Snap-On toolbox on wheels. The rest of that wall of the garage was built-in metal cabinets.
On the other side of the Corvette, in the middle bay, sat a pair of ATV’s. One was a single-seater, the other one of the big Gators that could seat four and some gear on a rack at the back. Allistor drooled. These would be great for scouting missions, or small retrievals of specific items. The last bay held a full-sized pickup, another useful vehicle.
He looked over at Sam, whose face was much less enthused. He was looking at the ATVs with a tear in his eye.
“Frank was a good friend?” Allistor asked.
“The best. Known him all my life. Went to school together, played ball together. Even enlisted together, though we got assigned to different units. We took these ATVs out fishing just a few weeks ago. He got a bite, started yelling about it being the Loch Ness monster. It might have been, cuz it pulled his drunk ass into the water!” Sam half-chuckled, half-sobbed. He laid a hand on the nearest ATV. “Gonna miss ya, my friend.”
Allistor didn’t know what to do. “Hey, umm… we can just leave this stuff here. We’ll find other vehicles-”
“Nope.” Sam cut him off. “Frank would want us to have this stuff. If he were alive, he’d want to fight right alongside us. We’ll take these and the guns.” He pointed to a large safe against the back wall. “Damned armory in there. More underneath the floor. Frank wasn’t an actual doomsday prepper, but he was a step away from becoming one. There’s a bunker built into the hill out back. More supplies and guns in there. But I’m thinking maybe we leave that alone? Could be a good place to hole up if we need to. Or another Stronghold point?”
Allistor wanted to hug the man. “Agreed. We can maybe load one of the ATVs onto our truck. Come back for the other one after we drive the Corvette back?”
“Nope,” Sam said again, smiling this time. “There’s a car trailer out back. Frank used it to take the ‘Vette to car shows. We can load the car on the trailer. Put an ATV in the back of his truck, one in the back of ours. I’ll drive his truck back. We’ll empty the safe there. Load it on the trailer behind the car. Too heavy for one of the pickups.” He pointed to a wet bar in the corner next to an open bathroom door. “Move that wet bar, there’s a trap door. Storage area down below. Maybe a dozen hunting rifles, some handguns, and lots of ammo. Again, maybe we leave it there for now? We’ve got more guns than we need.”
Allistor didn’t want to ask, but they needed some sellable rare items. “Any of the guns in the safe an antique? Or something special?”
Sam glared at him for a minute when he realized why Allistor was asking. Then he sighed. “You’re right. There’s an old flintlock from the early 1800s. It’s no good to us. Might as well use it to trade for something that’ll help us. There’s also an early colt pistol. But… if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep that one. To remember him by.”
Allistor held up both hands. “Hey, man. Everything here is yours as far as I’m concerned. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to donate to help the community, and thank you sincerely. But anything here you want for yourself is yours, no question.”
Sam put a beefy hand on Allistor’s shoulder, tears still threatening to fall from his eyes. “You’re a good kid.” He sniffed, wiping both eyes with the palm of his hand. “Now, let’s go get that trailer moved up here.”
“I got that. You uh… spend a little quality time in here. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” Allistor left Sam in the garage and walked around back. There was a gravel drive that led around to a wide pad where the trailer was parked. Allistor removed the blocks from under the wheels and the hitch and placed them carefully at the front of the trailer. It was a top of the line transport trailer with steel mesh sides and a winch at the front for pulling cars up onto it. The back end had two small ramps that could be folded out, and a wider ramp in between. All three could be dropped out for loading things like the ATVs or furniture.
He spent a few minutes admiring the thing, giving Sam some time to collect himself. As he waited, a rustling sound reached him. His head jerked around to where he thought the sound had originated. Across the yard that stretched out about fifty yards behind both the house and garage, the tree line was still dark. The sun hadn’t risen high enough to clear the trees and shed light through the canopy.
The sound came again, and Allistor unslung the shotgun from his shoulder. A moment later, a dog shot out from the underbrush, heading toward the house. Not a canid, an actual Earth dog. A chocolate lab, Allistor thought. He called out, then whistled. The dog faltered midstride as it turned to look at him.
A second later, three canids emerged from the brush, hot on the trail of the dog. The lab yelped and picked up speed, changing direction toward the garage. Allistor shouted, “Sam! Canids!”
He raised his weapon and sighted on the lead canid. It was twenty yards or so behind the lab, but its superior muscle mass and six legs allowed it to gain on its prey. Allistor led it a bit and fired.
It wasn’t an ideal distance for his weapon, but the 12-gauge slug struck the canid in the neck, knocking it off its feet. Allistor chambered another round and took aim at the next one. Before he could fire, Sam’s rifle rang out. The canid in Allistor’s sights dropped like a stone, dead before it hit the ground. Allistor looked over to see Sam on one knee at the corner of the garage, already working the bolt to chamber another round.
The dog, seeing Sam, barked twice and charged straight toward him. It leapt at him, bowling him over. Allistor raised his weapon, but couldn’t get a clear shot at the dog. Instead, he turned his sights on the last canid. This time his slug went wide, hitting the mob in its hindquarters. The impact still knocked it over, but it quickly got back up. Its left rear leg was disabled, but the now maddened beast still had five legs. And it was now targeting Allistor.
He needed to hurry up and dispatch this one so that he could help Sam. He fired three rounds as rapidly as he could, punching into the canid’s chest, and finally, its head. When it went down for good, Allistor turned to Sam.
The man was laughing, trying to calm the dog and free his weapon. “Stop it, Max!” he pushed at the excited lab. “I’m glad to see you too! But you brought monsters home with you! Now, sit!”
The lab ceased its lick-attacks at the command and obediently planted his butt on the ground. His tail still wagged furiously, and his tongue hung out to one side as he panted.
Sam raised his rifle and scanned the tree line. “Is that all of them?” he called out to Allistor.
“I only saw three. But there might be more out there?”
Sam shook his head, looking down at the lab. “Max doesn’t think so. He’s too relaxed. Then again, this stupid mutt might not recognize danger if it bit him in the ass.” He reached down and patted the dog’s head. Max woofed at him softly.
“I take it Max belonged to Frank?”
“Yeah. Just got him a couple years ago. When Sally died, Frank was lonely. Meg saw a litter of lab pups at the grocery store. We got one, and she brought Max to Frank. Our Rufus didn’t survive the titan.” He continued to pet Max.
Allistor started walking across the lawn. He looted the closest of the canids he’d killed, getting the usual 30 klax, some leather, meat, pelt, teeth. Sam followed him out to loot the one he’d dropped. Allistor really needed to figure out if they could group up and share loot so that one person could loot everything. As he passed Sam’s kill headed for the first canid he’d shot, Max began to growl behind him. Allistor turned mid-stride to see what Max was upset about and didn’t see the first canid lunge at him.
His first warning was the snarl as it pushed forward, then pain as it latched onto his shin. The razor-sharp teeth clamped down and punctured deep into his leg. It shook its thick, well-muscled neck, shredding his flesh and snapping a bone.
Sam’s rifle fired even as Allistor was falling backward, trying to bring his own weapon around. The canid’s head exploded, a cone-shaped spray of blood coating the grass behind it. The creature fell back down to the grass, twisting and tearing Allistor’s leg as it went. Allistor screamed in pain, looking at the torn flesh and broken bone as he writhed on the ground. Sam came running up and fell to his knees next to him.
“Shit. That’s bad. We need to cut off the blood flow or you won’t make it back.” He unclipped the strap from Allistor’s shotgun and wrapped it around his leg above the knee, clipping the two ends together. Then he cinched it as tight as it would go. Allistor grunted in pain again, but he didn’t complain. Max sniffed at the wound, then gave it a tentative lick, causing Allistor to nearly pass out. Sam shouldered the dog aside. “Don’t help, Max.” He was half-grinning as he worked. Happy to see the dog alive.
Shadow Sun Survival: Shadow Sun Book One Page 15
