by Arthur Stone
“I have greater trust in Biter than I have in myself. It’s been with me for a long, long time. It has never let me down, and it never will. But this...” the girl pulled the crystal out of her pocket, gazed into it, frowned, and cast it aside. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t it, but not one hundred percent sure. Damn, I paid two stars for this, and thought it was a bargain. And I paid eighty spores for this one.” Another crystal, externally indistinguishable, followed the first.
“You think they’re finding us because of one of those?”
“I happened to acquire both recently. The people who sold them to me seemed decent, but you can’t really trust anyone here, can you? Everyone knows that Romeo will richly reward the man who helps bring me in. And so everyone must be tempted by that.”
“But why send the ghouls after you, then? Romeo doesn’t want you dead. He has other plans for you.”
“I don’t know why they would do that, but maybe they would. But something is giving us away. We’re giving off something that is guiding them right to us. The infecteds have heightened senses, though, and the most powerful even have their own magic. So maybe they can sense it. Perhaps only a few of them, but still. Meaning they can find us even in the middle of the forest. Alright, Rocky, we need to get out of here right now.”
“Like I was saying.”
“No, you don’t understand. We have to go right now.”
“Yup. That’s what I was saying.”
“No, Rocky, you don’t understand me at all. Leave the sleeping bags. Leave all of it. Even the shotgun and the shells, leave them. We can take a little bit of food and water. And the rifle, of course. But we have to leave fast.”
“So we’re leaving the damn sleeping bags?” Rocky couldn’t believe it.
“Right. It’s extra weight. It’ll just slow us down.”
“But, but, what about nighttime comfort?”
“And what about actually getting out of here alive?” Rocky, there might be a whole horde of infecteds coming, or a pack of six of those beasts. Couldn’t you just listen to me for once?”
Chapter 23
Life Five: Man to Man
They did get away fast, strangely enough. Either the sporejuice had a killer rejuvenating effect, or the reduced weight helped, but Rocky had no trouble carrying Kitty, a pair of rifles, and a small pack of supplies. The terrain became noticeably clearer, too. The forest floor was clean. Walking this path was a joy.
But the difficulties began after an hour or so, when—by Rocky’s estimate—they were almost three miles away from the hill of sand. It was no simple task to walk far, even at a moderate pace, with a person on his back. He tired quickly. His legs especially became exhausted. Even his knees began to complain, reminding him that they hadn’t healed completely yet and couldn’t deal with a sustained load. As if to taunt him, the forest became thicker now, and he had to wade through bushes or even skirt around thick undergrowth.
After another fifteen minutes, the latter became such a problem that Rocky finally broke down, stopped, and silently lowered Kitty. He tried to hide the extreme fatigue in his voice. “Looks like we’re in the jungle here. I just don’t know how to keep going with you on my shoulders. Let me look around for a path or trail we can hop on.”
Kitty saw right through his fatigue camouflage. “You’re exhausted. Take a rest for five minutes, at least.”
“I’ll rest in the next world. You yourself said we have to leave as quickly as we could.”
“Sure. But if you take a bad fall, we won’t be moving at any speed.”
“Will Romeo’s people have any dogs?”
“Why would they need dogs?”
“To track us down.”
“Ah, Rocky,” said Kitty with a shake of her head. “You still have no idea where you are. In this world, there are humans who are better at tracking than the best dogs. They can find you anywhere, no matter how well you cover your track. Nothing but distance can keep us away from them. Or some other things that we don’t have, so distance is all we can try for.”
“Then let’s just say I’ve already rested, alright?”
As he sought the best path through the undergrowth, he had to expend considerable effort not to sound like a stomping herd of elephants. The ground was littered with dead branches. One wrong step, and the entire cluster would hear the resulting crack. Even though the rain had poured long and hard, these sticks were no longer damp. Strange.
Maybe this world was in fact artificially made, despite Kitty’s assurances otherwise. An illusion, a lie, a hallucination. How otherwise could this reality be explained, speckled as it was with unnatural and supernatural elements?
There was another option. Bad weather could be localized, which would make sense for a world built like a mosaic.
As he located a relatively convenient passage through another wall of shrubbery, he saw something entirely out of place in the forest. A dense hazelnut thicket, bright green in color. But the main change in terrain was still ahead. The land dove at a steep angle down towards a narrow, muddy river whose lazy current was funneled through barriers of duckweed. He squatted down by a low drop-off, thinking. Something from the real world told him that water was good at throwing dogs off of a trail. Kitty was sure that Romeo’s gang didn’t have bloodhounds, but were they the only ones involved here? No. There were many other dangers. Mostly infecteds. They tracked their prey in part using their sense of smell, so creating trouble for that sense seemed like a good idea.
He evaluated the river. The only way to cross its considerable width was by swimming. What did that mean for Kitty and the cargo they were still carrying?
Fortunately, a barely-visible trail ran along the shore, atop the drop-off. It was covered with thickets in places, but still easier to walk on the path than push his way through bush after bush. Rocky decided to walk a hundred paces or so downstream and see if there was any water shallow enough to cross.
There wasn’t. So much for his plan to cross. He could go back for the girl and walk along the path, in relative comfort. There was something confusing, though: Kitty had mentioned that shores were particularly dangerous, but he didn’t remember the details. All of the information from the past day or two was mixing together in his head. Maybe she hadn’t said that at all. There was no sense trying to remember, in any case. The source of information herself was just a few dozen steps away.
As he squeezed through yet another patch of narrow vegetation, he heard a sharp, sonorous tone, obviously something not of this world, and the world succumbed to impenetrable darkness.
* * *
You’ve received a negative effect: Stunned. Current location: Cluster 197-33-02. Region: West Coast. Current revives remaining: 95 lives (initial value minus 4).
Active quests: Survive, Search, Learn Secret, Help, Ask Correct Question.
Current status: returning to game. You will remain stunned for forty-four seconds, though this time may change based on your game circumstances.
Hint: a thrown weapon can strike both silently and suddenly.
His ability to think returned, but he found it difficult to push through the apathy and confusion. He had felt the same when he first saw Kitty. Rocky had no idea what or who had stunned him, but they hadn’t killed him.
He didn’t know whether to be happy about that or terrified. Sometimes death was the best option available. What have I gotten myself into this time?
His vision began to recover, turning gray. The darkness cleared, and he regained control of his body. Rocky made no rush to move, though. He listened eagerly to every sound he could get. Not that he was interested in the wind rustling through the trees or the splashing of the fish in the river.
Human voices. One was hoarse, like a smoker’s voice. The other was agitated, twitching—even frightened. Rocky had the impression that a nervous guy of about twenty was talking with a man twice as old who had a lot more experience.
“Hey, Ironpot, where’d this guy come from? I stunned
him, first shot. There might be a bunch of them here, and they just sent this one up ahead, like a scout.”
“Carp, you’re tired. You’re talking like an idiot. Check his pockets, and hurry it up.”
“I’m checking, I’m checking. Is that rifle bound to him?”
“Man, you’re losing it. Didn’t you see his level? How could someone so new bind a rifle? I can’t even take a pistol to respawn with me, and I’m much higher level than this corpse.”
The man kicked him in the side and sneered. “You can stop trying to fool us, threebie. Open your eyes and tell us who you’re with, where you’re coming from, and where you got the threads. You’ve got a decent rifle, and you’re not in bad shape yourself. Me and Carp here are simple guys, but curious. When we ask someone a question, we want an answer right away, or we get upset. And when we get upset, we can get angry. I’m sure you don’t want to see us angry. Why the hell are you still pretending? Should I poke you with my knife a few times? I hear that’s a good way to make a quiet man talk.”
He sounded kindly enough, but Rocky had no doubt he was in real danger. A knife wound without a valid reason would be a stupid prize, so he had to open his eyes and sit up. At once he realized that his wrists were bound by a plastic collar, greatly hindering his range of motion.
He wondered if these were allies of Romeo or if everyone around here just used whatever the hell was lying around in place of handcuffs or decent rope.
Sitting up, Rocky looked at the pair he had hitherto only heard. Nothing new about them to be observed. One was very young and not too bright looking. The other was much older, but he didn’t look like a soulless killer. There was nothing gangster or extreme about these guys. In more ordinary circumstances, he would have passed them by without any notice. Entirely unremarkable.
Rocky looked at the crossbow, intensifying the sharp headache it had dealt him between his left temple and the back of his head. “Are you savages? Why’d you have to shoot me in the head? I know how to answer a question.”
“It’s a blunt-tipped bolt. Might as well be velvet-tipped. It didn’t hurt you,” explained Ironpot lazily. “Maybe you know how to answer, sure, but how could we have known that? This way is safer. How many of you are there? And how inexperienced?”
Rocky would rather be strangled than give Kitty up. He replied immediately. “It should be obvious that I’m not really a fan of groups.”
Ironpot stared into his eyes for a few second then surged forward, slamming his fist into Rocky’s nose with incredible speed. The juicy crunch knocked Rocky on his back, filling his mouth with blood. He struggled to speak through it. “Dammit, did you never learn to count? I’m the only one around!”
“Maybe,” Ironpot agreed, calmly. “But where’d you get such a good rifle?”
“Saw it at the store. Looked like a good buy. I mean, it’s not a bad weapon. Maybe I’ll give it to someone who needs it. Rocky bent his head forward so the blood would run off to the ground instead of staining his clothes.
“Nice,” the elder nodded. “It’s a decent rifle. Maybe I should take it for myself. You don’t care, do you? No? Great, then it’s agreed. So why do you have so few bullets in this pistol?”
“Buying more didn’t exactly work out.”
“So you shot the others? At who?”
“Funny. As if there’s nothing in this world that needs shooting.”
“Yeah, plenty of folks good for target practice. But there’s one question that keeps irking me. You look a little too cheerful, don’t you think?”
“What’s wrong with that? I’m young and healthy, and I don’t drink or smoke. Why shouldn’t I be cheerful?”
“Because, my dear man, you look dull and confused. You weren’t even keeping an eye on what might be watching you. You’re not a zero, but you’re very young. You don’t understand how serious this world is, but your equipment is better than even some of the more experienced carry around. There weren’t any resets around yesterday or today, and you don’t look like you just came from respawn. So you’ve managed to get some lifejuice, and your HP is looked fine. I don’t see any spores on you, or any flasks. As far as supplies go, all you’ve got is the air in your pockets, which is worthless here. Air is free for everyone. Somehow, you’re circumspect, experienced, even, but your level is tiny. That doesn’t happen. Come on, then. Tell us where you put the rest of the loot. You must be carrying it. If you give it to us in peace, we’ll leave you in peace. I give you my word. We’ll even leave you some. It’s bad to leave a man with nothing. We were like you once, after all.”
At that moment, a rifle shot came out of nowhere, and blood spurted out of Ironpot’s shoulder. He jerked and, without a moment’s hesitation, dove to the ground behind Rocky, using him for cover and screaming, “Carp, down!”
The advice came too late. The rifle cracked two more whole times, and both times struck Carp. He did get down—not on his own initiative but thanks to the force of gravity.
Teapot clung to Rocky tightly. He hissed, “You move, you’re a dead man!”
Awkwardly raising the heavy rifle he had taken from his prisoner, he fired into the bushes, screaming in anger, “Hey, how many of you are out there? Anyone shoots again, I’ll cut this boy’s head off, so hold your fire now!”
A new sound was heard, different from the rifle, and Ironpot jerked, dropped his rifle, and pushed back away from Rocky, moving his legs in an attempt to crawl on his back towards the drop-off to the creek. A black sword protruded from the point just below where his neck met his shoulders. A familiar black sword.
Rocky leaped over to the defeated bandit and stood on his stomach, making every attempt to dig in with his heel. He crouched down, easily knocked back his opponent’s arm reaching for the knife on his belt, and ran his plastic bonds up the edge of the blade. Biter’s sharpness was impressive. The collar split as if cut by a laser.
Shaking the blood back into his hands, an unknown malice surged up within him. He pulled the sword from the wound and raised it high, slamming it down as he exhaled, “Die, vulture!”
Ironpot did not die until the third blow. Rocky left the sword in his chest, got up, shook the blood from his palms, and looked over the drop-off. He made sure Carp was dead. The man was lying half in the land, half in the water, with no signs of life evident. The bullets had shattered his jawbone, and tiny fish delighted by the new tastes darted around his face.
Rocky squatted down to wipe his hands on the grass, then picked up his rifle, turned, and pushed his way through the bushes.
“Shh!” Kitty nervously commanded silence from her hiding place in the thicket.
“You’re kidding me. You really think that anyone doubts we’re here after that noise?”
“Well, we don’t have to announce our exact coordinates. Let them look for us!”
The girl was positioned between two large bushes. She was on her back, working to add the three cartridges she held between her fingers to the rifle’s supply.
Rocky tried not to think about the blood he so longed to wash or wipe off his hands and added a mockingly confident tone to his voice. “Very nimble of you. Too bad you only have one sword. You could have taken both of them down without a shot.”
“I just got lucky. It was tough to even shoot straight, to be honest. Too many branches between us to deflect the bullets—and Biter is much bigger than any bullet.”
“Wow, so you might have hit me!”
“But I didn’t.”
“Well, thanks, sister.”
“I’m not your sister. Not even your cousin. Besides, what else was I supposed to do? Watch them tear you to bits?”
“Alright, well, it’s in the past. Come on, Kitty, up on my shoulders. We have to get out of here before anyone comes running at the noise. I found a path down by the creek.”
“And a boat?”
“Boat?”
“Damn, you’re so dense. Look around. There should be a boat. I doubt these two guys were just wal
king down the river. Only total morons do that, and these two were only mostly morons.”
Rocky turned and headed back to the edge of the stream. Kitty never ceased to surprise him after all. Despite her position in the middle of a thicket, where she could barely see anything, she analyzed the situation and, despite her debilitating wound, silently crawled over to the perfect place and took out the pair of bandits in a matter of seconds.
Also, she had figured out there was likely a boat nearby. The girl planned to cross the river with all of their things intact, just as he had hoped to do. A logical, correct chain of thought. Rocky was jealous. There was so much he didn’t understand. But she made correct conclusions, and rapidly.
Wait—why didn’t the System give him anything for killing those two losers? No red text of any kind appeared. Had he just missed it in the rush? Maybe. After all, he had been stuck in the moment there. For the first time, he had finished off an enemy, not with a clean shot to the head, but with spoken threats of imminent death, bloody foam dripping from his mouth, and sticky palms wielding a murderous toy sword.
It came to no surprise to Rocky that he found the boat, sheltered behind a tree that had fallen into the river, within a few minutes. The tree still provided good cover, since it hadn’t lost its leaves yet. Behind it, a veil of cattails protected it from being noticed from the other side. It was only visible from the height of the drop-off. In fact, he’d be blind to miss it from there.
As he examined the boat’s location, he realized that he had been clumsy enough for them to notice him from the water and then moor their boat. After that, one of the bastards (probably Ironpot) had poked his head over the drop-off, taken aim through a clearing in the bushes, and waited for his target to walk into his sights. Then, he had made his shot, direct to the head at forty paces. A good shot with a crossbow armed with a blunt-tipped bolt.
Rocky wanted to slide down and bring the boat up to near where Kitty was, but he stopped when a couple of rifle shots rang out again. A familiar situation. Kitty had found somebody again. He was glad her rifle fired quickly. She could nail ten shots before running into any significant delay.
