Bolt Action Serenade

When I came to again I realized it must not have been very long because the light coming through the holes in the vehicle hadn’t changed significantly. I felt groggy and my arm throbbed in light but persistent pain. When I glanced down at it I found out why.

The bands had all fused into what looked like a bracer, roughly speaking. It also looked kinda like a growth as the edges seemed to have fused with my own skin.

“Triple fuck.” I muttered. “Um... h-hey, are you uh… whole?” I asked and was worried by the silence. Especially as the runes were still occasionally pulsing red. “Oh. Okay, you just rest then and hopefully when you wake up you don’t like… eat me. Or take over my body or something.” I am not a smart woman. That was undeniably an idiotic thing to do. But I would worry about that later.

I took some moments to examine the hunk of steel embedded in my leg to see what could be done. “Yeah, I’m not getting that out I don’t think. I’d probably bleed to death shortly after.” I fought the sudden urge to scream in frustration. That wouldn’t help right now. Once I was calm I grabbed the bayonet from one of the rifles on the floor and cut the leg of my pants open to get a better look. I was very troubled by a thought.

If this fell out on it’s own I’d be back to that ‘probably bleed to death’ problem again. “Shit.” I clenched my fists and grabbed gauze and made some very unladylike sounds as I bound the warped sliver of metal in place.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” I finally let myself scream once it was done. “FUCKING SHITBALLS SACK OF GREASY SMEGMA DONKEY FUCKING ASS STAIN!” Not the most eloquent moment. But I was in a lot of pain the entire time and I needed to vent.

After several moments panting and breathing and letting myself calm down I started to scoot towards the door. “Uh, sorry sir. If I survive I’ll tell people where you are so you can get a proper send off.” I said before pushing poor dead Bernson to the floor and barely keeping my calm as I scooted through his mostly dried blood.

Once I got to the door I took a breath, turned the handle, and pushed it open. Then immediately regretted everything I’d ever done, even the things I couldn’t remember.

Hell. It was hell. It had to be. Bodies everywhere, dozens, maybe hundreds. Many of them not in one piece, all of them bloody or burnt. But I didn’t have time to give in to the urge to vomit as I wasn’t alone. Some hell spawned creature was on top of a pile of bodies. It was a dull pink, hairless, naked, and horrifying. It’s skin looked almost like scales, but more like scale patterning had been carved into flesh than grown from it. It had four long legs spayed out like a bug, a squat and lumpy torso, two arms that seemed too short for the vaguely humanoid body, but had claws that size of my forearm to compensate I guess. It’s face looked like if someone crossed a naked mole rat with a barracuda and added 4 long, curved ears that twitched constantly.

It was tearing chunks off of the bodies and shoving them into it’s face, blood and gore dripping from its own form from its messy eating. I felt my breath catch as it turned to see me. There was a brief moment of silence before it charged, a shrill shriek piercing my ears like a poorly trained newbie at a jewelry kiosk at the mall…. What the fuck does that mean?

Confusion later, not dying now!

My body moved on its own, muscle memory must have kicked in because I suddenly had my rifle shouldered. I pulled the trigger, a boom echoed, and blood burst from the thing’s chest. My hand moved reflexively, cycling the bolt before I even realized what I was doing and I pulled the trigger again. Again blood sprayed, the beast stumbled from the shot but continued its charge. I cycled and fired until the magazine was empty, each pull of the trigger striking the thing’s body. It still came but did so with clear difficulty, tripping over it’s own twisted feet. It was still coming, but far, far slower.

I had no time to reload, especially since I didn’t even know where more ammo was aside from the crates at the other end of the vehicle. But as it stumbled close and fell forward I found I didn’t need more bullets. I thrust my rifle forward and drove the bayonet into it’s torso over and over. Even after it stopped moving I kept at it, just to be sure it was really dead.

I panted and shivered, feeling very much like I was going to wet myself any moment now. But I also felt a strange… I don’t know how to describe it. Like I could see something in the corner of my eye, but as a physical sensation. I barely noticed it, but hyper-awareness in the moments after almost being eaten made it a bit more obvious.

I felt something akin to muscle memory as I pulled whatever it was into my direct awareness. In the periphery of my perception, just enough to see without it blocking my sight, words appeared as if written onto my eyes themselves.

[Lesser Carrion Feeder Demon lvl 16 defeated]

[Experience threshold reached, you are now level 11]

I raised a brow “Uh…” and the feeling of something being both completely normal and utterly abnormal at the same time washed over me once more. But some instinct hit me and without even realizing I knew how, I pulled up something else into my view.

[STATUS]

[Name: ERROR]

[Primary Class: Survivor]
[Secondary Class: Basic Infantry]

[Level: 11]

[HP: 47 / 240]

[MP: 0/50]

[Strength: 11]

[Coordination: 16]
[Endurance: 24]

[Focus: 5]

[Willpower: 26]

[Force: 10]

[SKILLS]

[Scavenging: C]

[Hearty Constitution: D]

[Pain Tolerance: D]

[Sixth Sense: C]

[Courtesan’s Touch: E]

[Quick Rest: D]

[Soldier’s March: D]

[Sniper’s Eye: E]

[Favor of the Ferryman: E]

[3RR0R-3RR0R]

[SPELLS]

[Soothe: E]

Well, that’s not worrying at all. This was my… Status. ‘The Words of the Gods and the innate magic of the world being made into something the mortal mind can understand.’ Well that felt like something from a sermon. Actually… yeah, it was from a sermon. I could remember a few words of it in the voice of some old man who sounded like he thought he was better than everyone else. I could glimpse flashes of robes that looked like someone had woven gold into fabric with dark silvery shapes and lines that seemed to have some meaning I couldn’t place.

I was still getting that strange overlap of ‘This is completely normal’ and ‘This is extremely not normal’ and frankly it felt easier to just think of it as normal and move on.

Alight, so, my HP, Health Points I think, were pretty low. Being that low after I had downed one of those potions, wait no, infusions. Either way I had drank one and it had definitely had an effect. Was my health just that low before that or had I taken more damage since? The bands had hurt like hell, did that do this? Did the blood loss or infection tick away at my health? I didn’t even have the band to ask anymore.

I shook my head and brought myself back to the moment. I had other concerns. I pulled the door to the vehicle shut and locked it before scooting back and grabbing the kit once more. I quickly downed another health infusion and then noticed something I’d missed in the instructions under the lid.

‘Warning. Only use one Triage Band per patient to avoid integrity degradation.’

Welp, it’s like they always say ‘Read the Fucking Manual’. Though I couldn’t remember who it was that said that, I was sure I’d been told that a lot. Just to be sure I wasn’t going to do something else stupid I made sure to read everything. Thankfully nothing more I had to worry about, but I would make sure to remember this moment in the future and learn from my stupidity.

I realized I still needed to leave and find help, but considering the possible threats I needed to actually prepare properly. Step one, check contents of backpacks… haversacks? Whatever. Check their contents. Pulling the closest down and removing it’s contents was encouraging.

A canteen, currently full. Four loaded stripper clips in an ammo pouch that seemed designed to attach to a belt. A half empty tin of some sort of hearty bread ration. A small first aid kit with gauze, tape, and one each of the red, yellow, and blue infusion vials. A mess kit, the metal cup of which was badly stained with what I hoped was coffee. A small shovel. A pair of heavy leather gloves. Two sets of rolled up socks. A small steel mirror in dire need of cleaning. Some bits of cloth that I realized were for patching clothing when I saw the needle and thread with them. Spare shoelaces. A wool blanket. A gun cleaning kit. A very well cared for knife. A shaving kit, not that I need it but at the very least one officer was a guy so maybe this was poor dead Bernson’s pack.

Actually… I had an odd thought and suddenly felt a need that I gave in to. I unbuttoned my pants and pulled them and my underwear forward enough to look down at myself “Nope, not shaved. Huh, natural redhead I guess.” Then the awkwardness of the moment hit me and I felt my cheeks heat up as I buttoned my pants back up quickly. “I am officially going insane, checking my bush at a time like this.”

I shook my head and sighed and quickly decided what I needed. Most of the pack was useful, and even the things I didn’t need now might come in handy later so I didn’t toss anything. But I did pull down all of the other packs and pull out the extra ammo, health kits, and rations. I realized that a large pouch on either side of the pack was a removable separate piece and I could strap more onto a single pack, or even my belt, and filled a couple with the extra goods. I also nabbed an extra ammo pouch to wear, just in case. Then I remembered the ammo cases on the floor.

One held only empty clips, the second only had a dozen or so additional loaded clips, and the third and final one had quite a lot of bullets. Though, all smaller than the rifle rounds and none in any sort of clip themselves. “Oh, hang on.” I muttered as I turned to look at poor dead Bernson and saw a holster on his hip. A bit more scooting and a bit more swearing from bending over and rolling the man on his side and soon enough I had his belt off. “Once again, sorry sir, but I need this more than you do.”

I pulled the gun out to look at it, a lovely revolver. I do mean lovely, the metal was damned near obsidian black and well polished aside from a few clearly recent scuffs. The wood was a pale purple. Which made me raise a brow as I wasn’t sure if wood came in purple, but I was also brain damaged so whatever. It had no decoration beyond the interesting materials used, but I could just tell it was an expensive personal piece. It took me a moment to figure out the break action and open it to check the ammo, but once I did I confirmed it was the same as in the case. With a sigh of relief I strapped the holster to my own belt and filled a pouch with the extra rounds for it.

Loaded up with a full kit, three canteens, what I estimated was a weeks worth of rations, every infusion I could find in every kit in the vehicle, and enough ammo to outfit twenty people, I felt I was ready. I scooted towards the door and paused. Turning I gave what I felt was probably an appropriate salute to poor dead Bernson “Wish me luck sir. Either I’ll find your next of kin to get the news to, or I’ll find you on the other side and apologize for failing to.” Then I gripped my rifle and pushed the doors open.