As he descended, he stopped every few minutes to look and listen. These woods were full of wild animals, including predators like bears and wolves, even before Earth was assimilated. Though this was a mostly unpopulated area of a sparsely populated state, the blood around the truck proved the recent presence of predators of one kind or another.
His father had taught him to hunt, to shoot, and what little he knew about tracking. As he neared the lake, he saw more and more game trails, signs of animals passing to and fro. There were clear and recent deer tracks, wolf tracks – the four-legged variety – a set that he thought looked like a wolverine but wasn’t sure. More than once he startled a rabbit or squirrel as he crashed through the underbrush. Though his father had taught him the basics, he was by no means stealthy. As he chuckled to himself about it, the thought occurred to him that maybe he could build that skill.
He crouched low, holding still for ten seconds. Then very carefully he lifted one foot and moved it forward. He scanned the ground ahead of him, then slowly placed his foot in a clear spot with no leaves or twigs. Transferring his weight to that foot, he repeated the process. Clear spots were few and far between, so he did his best to choose spots with wet leaves that would make less noise. Each time he had to just hope there were no twigs underneath.
He continued this for about five minutes as he progressed down the last bit of incline toward the lake.
You have learned the skill: Stealth!
Though the result was as expected, the notification still surprised him. He lost focus for a second, his balance going with it. Flailing his arms he struck a tree branch, then stepped sideways onto a fallen stick that snapped loudly.
Snorting, he said, “I wonder if it’s possible to have a skill revoked right after you learn it?”
Just for the hell of it, he resumed his stealthy approach to the water’s edge. Which is why, when he emerged from behind a sixty-foot cypress tree, he stood facing an octopoid.
The monster had its back to him, standing in the shallows not twenty feet in front of him. Its tentacles were half submerged in the shallow water, undulating back and forth. After a moment, one of them darted forward with a splash, and then emerged with its end wrapped around a fish.
As the fish was being stuffed into the octopoid’s maw, Allistor drew the bow from his ring, along with the quiver. Setting the quiver down and leaning it against a low-hanging cypress branch, he slowly withdrew two arrows. He stuck one in the ground next to his foot and nocked the other. Drawing the bow, he took aim.
Octopoid
Level 10
Health 9,000/9,000
As it munched obliviously on bass meat, Allistor focused on the back of its bulbous head and let fly. He was already bending to grab the next arrow as the first sped forward. At that distance, the impact was almost instantaneous.
Allistor hadn’t shot a bow in years. In fact, the last time he could remember was at Boy Scout camp. His aim was a little low. The arrow drove into the octopoid’s back just below the neck, driving in all the way to the fletching.
As it screeched and stumbled forward from the impact, Allistor nocked the second arrow. He pulled back the string and held for a moment as the monster turned toward him. Its tentacles burst from the water and began to wave in his direction. The next arrow struck a tentacle on its way toward the octopoid’s face. The limb was skewered and pinned to the monster’s head as that arrow sank deep as well.
You have learned the skill: Archery!
He waved away the notification as he reached into the quiver for a third arrow. This one he fired rapidly, feeling a bit of panic as the mob began to trudge out of the water toward him. The third arrow struck it dead in the center of its chest.
Octopoid
Level 10
Health 5,700/9,000
Even with the sneak attack, the arrows weren’t doing much damage. He pulled one more from the quiver and, stepping backward, fired it into the creature’s face as it approached. Now the thing was nearly in tentacle range. Dropping the bow to the ground at his side, he withdrew his spear from his ring. Holding it in his right hand, he used his left to draw the sword from its sheath on his hip.
Stepping forward this time, he hurled the heavy rebar spear with all his strength, leaning into the throw. The creature was only about ten feet away, and it had neither the time nor the dexterity to dodge. It tried to grasp the spear with tentacles, but the momentum pushed the weapon into its chest.
As the octopoid floundered, Allistor transferred his sword to his right hand. Continuing his forward momentum, he took two steps into the creature’s tentacle range and began to hack at it. The first two tentacles that swung his way were lopped off with ease. The sharp blade passed through the rubbery flesh with a slick sucking sound. But a third tentacle wrapped around his left foot and yanked, sending him onto his back. Two more wrapped around his legs and began to pull him toward the water as the octopoid staggered backward.
Hacking at the limbs repeatedly, he missed once and cut deeply into his own shin. The pain and frustration made him howl. He cast Restraint on the creature, followed instantly by a Flame Shot in its face. The octopoid froze, its mouth open as Allistor sat up and swung more carefully at the tentacles gripping his legs. He managed to sever two of the three before the stun wore off and the creature screeched at the loss of two more limbs.
Allistor dropped the sword and pulled his shotgun from his ring as the octopoid fell backward into the shallow water and began to pull him in. He hadn’t wanted to make so much noise in this wild place, but he also didn’t want to drown. Aiming the barrel at the monster’s face, he blasted three slugs into it before it died.
He lay there panting, his back on the sand and his feet in the shallow water. Each time the ebb and flow of the lake water moved the octopoid corpse, the claws in the tentacle still wrapped around his thigh jabbed at him through his leather pants. Reaching up to retrieve his sword, he used it to pry all three tentacles from his legs. Removing a healing potion from his ring, he gulped it down and waited for the self-inflicted cut and all the little wounds on his legs to close.
Getting to his feet, he pulled his spear from the monster’s chest, retrieved his arrows, and looted the corpse. He received ten pieces of octopoid hide this time. And some octopoid meat, which he quickly tossed far out into the lake. A moment later the water out there frothed up as something big snatched up the offering.
Allistor quickly picked up all his weapons and backed up as that same something headed in his direction. A small bow wave formed as it rushed toward him just below the surface. He raised his shotgun and continued to back up, visions of some kind of alien shark-gator-piranha hybrid leaping out at him.
What actually emerged from the water wasn’t far off. It was a massive lake sturgeon. Or so Allistor assumed. A solid twelve feet long from nose to tail, it powered up out of the deeper water into the shallows. Its wide open mouth had a lower jaw that curved upward as it jutted out. Along its back ran a ridge of spines almost like the dragon’s. Its scales were multicolored, and its eyes a dead black. Overall it was one of the ugliest creatures Allistor had ever seen.
Sturgeon Matron
Level 15
Health 12,000/12,000
Allistor watched, weapon at the ready as the enormous fish chomped down on the head and torso of the floating octopoid. With a quick flip, it tilted its head up and swallowed the seven-foot creature whole.
Thrashing about in the shallows, it turned a baleful eye on Allistor, then managed to get itself back into deeper water and disappeared. Nothing but a widening circle of ripples giving any hint that the octopoid or the giant fish had ever been there.
“Right. So… no swimming in the lake.” Allistor picked up a stone and skipped it across the water, just to show the big fish who was boss. He was suddenly much less interested in fishing. Still, he was here, and he was the apex predator on land. At least, that’s what he told himself as he turned right and walked along the lakeshore,
making sure to keep well back from the water’s edge. He kept a keen eye on the water as he went.
Eventually, he found a wide stream that tumbled down the rocky mountainside and fed into the lake. Walking upstream, he found a spot where an open level area below a tiny waterfall had formed a pool. The sun shone through the trees, reflecting off the water as the stream burbled along. It was a postcard-perfect spot. Finding a rock to sit on about ten feet back from the pool, he took out his pole and tackle.
Five minutes later he had a green rubbery worm thing and a light sinker on the line and was casting it into the pool. It plopped into the water out near the center, and he gave it a moment to sink a bit. Then he tugged slightly on the line to make the lure wiggle and reeled in the slack slowly. Jiggering it across the water in this manner, he leaned back and relaxed. When the lure reached the shore, he reeled it the rest of the way in and cast it again.
The rock at his back was warmed by the sun, and the sound of the waterfall was soothing. He was dozing off when something big splashed into the pool.
Startled and alert, he sat up and scanned the area. Motion at the waterfall caught his attention as a stone tumbled down to splash into the pool. Following the stream upward with his eyes, he cursed to himself.
Sneaking clumsily down the slope was a grizzly bear cub. It looked to be about six months old as best he could guess. It was actually kind of cute, all fuzzy and stumbling as it worked its way down the rocks. Allistor even had an urge to play with it.
The problem was, where there were grizzly bear cubs, there was usually a mama grizzly. Dropping his pole, he got to his feet. Frantically searching the slope above while trying to keep an eye on his surroundings, he retrieved his rifle. With a grizzly, one needed penetration to get through the hide and the fat for a kill shot.
Working the bolt, he chambered a round and used the scope to search above the cub, which was still approaching the pond. He saw no sign of another bear, which terrified him. He was no longer feeling like the apex predator on this particular land. Sweat trickled down his back, and it wasn’t from the warm rock he’d been leaning against.
The cub got itself trapped on an outcropping with no clear way down, and no way to get back up. It let out a weak little distressed-sounding half-roar that tugged at Allistor’s heart. Some part of him wanted to climb up there and wrassle with the little fella.
When no answering roar from mama bear sounded, Allistor began to back away downstream, the way he had come. He was hoping he could get mama bear to chase him into the shallows where the big fish might attack. Assuming mama bear wasn’t even larger than the fish. Apparently, Earth wildlife also had the ability to level up by killing things. A bear trying to fatten up for hibernation would be eating pretty much nonstop. If she’d managed to kill other critters, she could be bigger, faster, and stronger than any bear previously seen on earth.
That line of thinking was not helping. His heart thumped in his chest and now sweat was dripping from his forehead. The little cub remained on the outcrop, crying for its mama. Allistor wanted to be far, far away when she found him.
Now a good hundred yards away, he ducked behind an ancient cottonwood tree and paused to calm himself. He needed to think clearly. Did he really want to potentially trap himself between a grizzly and a giant lake monster? Would it be better for him to just head back uphill and make a run for his outpost? He could get up on the wall and use the .50 cal to take out the bear from a safe position.
Still calling for help, the cub hadn’t moved. And still, there was no answer. He took a deep breath and peered around the tree. No sign of any movement at all. He raised his hunting rifle and scoped the slope above again. Then did the same in a wide arc around himself.
The cries of the cub were starting to get to him. After a solid five minutes, he cursed to himself. “You’re a damned fool. Gonna get your face ate off. It’s a bear cub. It can fend for itself. Or not. Either way, it’s not your problem.”
Even as he argued against it, he emerged from behind the tree and started back toward the pond. Moving back almost to his previous position, he hid behind the sun-warmed rock he’d been leaning against. From there he watched the cub as it peered over the edge, then changed its mind and tried to climb upward. But it was unable to get any purchase with its claws and failed to make progress. Eventually, it fell on its butt with a growl of complaint.
With a sigh, Allistor began to climb. He picked a path up the rocks that he hoped would allow him to make a hasty retreat if mama showed up. Swearing to himself that he would just knock the little fella off the ledge into the water and leave it at that, he climbed higher, then dropped down a bit to approach the cub from above.
When it saw him coming, the cub reared up on its back legs and growled. It looked like an angry teddy bear, and Allistor smiled at it. “Hey there, fella. What’s your name?” he spoke in a soothing voice, the way one would with a strange dog of indeterminate disposition. “What’s that? You don’t have a name? How ‘bout Boo-Boo? No? Well, then I’ll just call you Fuzzy for now. Are you hungry, Fuzzy?”
The cub tilted its head to one side as he continued to talk to it. Still on its hind legs, the cub stood about three feet tall. It grunted at him, then huffed a few times. He kept talking as he produced a hot dog from his ring. “Here’s a little snack for Fuzzy. Cuz Fuzzy’s a good boy, and not gonna try and eat me.” He tossed the meat tube down onto the stone at the cub’s feet. It dropped to all fours, sniffed once, then scarfed up the treat. A moment later it was back up on its hind legs, waving one paw at Allistor as if saying ‘Please, sir, can I have some more?’
Allistor, now just a couple feet above the cub’s reach, obliged. He tossed out another hot dog, which the bear caught in its jaws. Unfortunately for the cub, the action overbalanced him, and he fell backward off the rock. It was only a short fall into the water, maybe a dozen feet, but his back thudded against a large rock before he bounced off and splashed into the pool.
Allistor dropped down to the outcropping and peered down into the water, waiting for the cub to resurface. After ten seconds, he got nervous. “Shit. I didn’t want to kill the little guy.”
Storing his rifle in his ring, he quickly stripped down to just his leather pants, storing boots and the rest in his ring as well. Then with a couple deep breaths, he took two running steps and leaped out over the water. He cleared the boulder that the cub had hit and plunged feet-first into the pool.
The water was quite cold, and he had to fight not to gasp in shock. When he opened his eyes, he found the water quite clear. A quick spin using his arms allowed him to survey the entire pool. The bear cub was maybe thirty feet from him floating several feet below the surface, apparently unconscious.
Allistor kicked his legs, surfacing quickly and taking in a lungful of air. As fast as he could he swam over to the spot he estimated the bear would be and ducked under the surface. A couple strokes downward, and he was able to reach the cub. He grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and kicked upward again. As soon as he was back at the surface, he rolled over onto his back, dragging the cub onto his belly as he kicked with both legs and stroked one-armed over to the nearest shore. Hitting shallow water, he stood and lifted the cub out of the water to set him in the grass.
The cub’s body was limp, and it clearly wasn’t breathing. He feared he’d accidentally killed it and felt ashamed. With nothing to lose, he lifted the bear back up and gripped it around its belly from behind. He squeezed gently, doing a sort of Heimlich maneuver that did succeed in pushing a good amount of water out of the animal. After a second squeeze, he put the bear cub on its back and used one hand to clamp its jaw shut. With his other hand, he formed the best seal he could around its nose, then blew into it. He tried this several times, watching as the cub’s chest rose slightly with each forced breath.
He didn’t know how to check a bear’s pulse, or even if its heart was in a place where CPR would work. “Come on, little Fuzzy! Don’t die on me!” He breathed into t
he cub’s nose again, then shook him.
There was a splutter, then the bear inhaled on his own. A moment later, it did it again. Allistor stepped away as the cub rolled onto its belly and puked out a bunch of water. It took another wheezing breath, then mewled like a kitten in pain. Fuzzy tried to get his feet under him and failed. Allistor didn’t know what to do except sit and watch, give him some time to recover. He nervously scanned the forest around them, still expecting mama bear to make an appearance.
After several minutes of retching and labored breathing, Fuzzy seemed to grow stronger. Allistor figured it was the system’s rapid healing. “That’s right, buddy. Get your feet under you.” Allistor spoke softly, aware that the bear could hear him just fine.
As a sort of apology, he removed a piece of grilled turtle steak from his ring and tossed it to the cub, who couldn’t quite reach it where it landed. With a growl, he got unsteadily to his feet and moved forward enough to take the steak. Then he plopped back down and began to gnaw on it. By the time he was finished, he was breathing much better.
“Right, then. Good to meet you, Fuzzmiester. I’m sorry about drowning you. Was only trying to help. Now run along back to your mama bear. I’m gonna retrieve my fishing pole and head home.”
He waved at the bear as he began his walk around the pond to retrieve his gear. When he had everything packed away in the tackle box and both box and pole stored in his ring, he turned to find Fuzzy standing right behind him, looking up with his tongue hanging out to one side like a dog. When he jumped in fright, the cub hopped backward as well.
“Shit! Don’t sneak up on me like that! You nearly gave me a heart attack, Fuzzy, old chap.” Allistor sat down on the rock and looked at the bear, who was sniffing the air between them. Bears had a nose several hundred times more sensitive than a human’s. But even with that sniffer, Allistor doubted Fuzzy could smell what was in his ring of holding.
Shadow Sun Survival Page 25
