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DEADMAN WALKING
©2023 C.B. TITUS
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LitRPG
ONE
NEITHER RAIN, NOR SLEET, NOR BULLETS
Citizen: Donovan
5th Level Postman
Patriot Points: 27
Strength- 20
Perception- 15
Intelligence- 10
Nationalism- 3
Endurance- 23
Speed- 17
Job Abilities:
Neither Rain, Sleet, or Snow: You are unhampered by adverse
weather.
Express: You gain a 5% bonus to movement speed.
Special Delivery: You can mark a delivery “special,” which will
allow you to track it.
Skills:
Walking- 34
Pistol- 7
Loading/unloading- 21
Customer Service- 12
Driving- 3
Virus:
Deadman- Bonus to all physical stats +5, negative to social-based
skills
Natural weapon- Teeth
Night Vision
TWO
A KIND PLACE
W hen I reached the center of town, I opened the lead containers and let
people come and get their packages. They received notifications that
they’d arrived, so there was a small crowd gathered. I waited off to the side,
not wanting to scare anyone, but was surprised to find many of them
passing directly by me, some even managing thank yous and smiles. It
made me uncomfortable, but luckily there were still plenty of hateful looks
in the small crowd that gathered to even things out.
After everyone had gotten their packages, I walked up to my cart and
addressed the short man again.
“Let everyone know my next delivery is to Boon, then I loop back
around. I’ll be here to take the packages and letters tomorrow morning.”
The man nodded. Seemed to struggle with something for a moment,
then offered his hand.
“I’m JD.”
I blinked a few times. This town just kept getting weirder. Still, I
reached out and took his hand.
“Donovan.”
He retrieved his hand just a little too quickly, but I didn’t fault him for
it.
“There’s a bar in town. Tim’s place. He’ll take ammo, tobacco, fruit, or
PP of course if you’d rather not barter. I have a feeling he may cut you a
deal, whatever the case.”
“Where?”
“Toward the back wall,” he said, pointing. “There’s a cantina before that
one, but uh… the kids eat there.”
“I understand. Thanks.”
I readjusted my goggles and bandana and headed in the direction he
pointed. Walking through the town, I could tell that it was a middling
settlement. Not too populous, not too prosperous, but getting along fine.
Most of the buildings were made from scrap and all of them were clustered
closely together. I saw small farms here and there that led me to believe the
main thing they tithed to the Iron Horde was food. Toward the center of
town I noticed a large central building made up of half an old plane with
paper lanterns strung up outside, unlit in the daylight, and the sounds of
people enjoying breakfast. I gave it a wide berth and kept moving toward
the edge of the town.
A lone building sat halfway between the town and the wall. I saw a
couple men and a woman in a pile outside the door, sleeping off, from what
I could smell, a legendary amount of hooch. I stepped over them and
walked in. The place was sleazy, but I had initially expected to sleep outside
of the walls after making my delivery, so I decided not to be choosy. The
lighting was dim, and the seating was mostly chairs ripped from cars,
though the bar had a few actual stools. I sat at one and rapped my knuckles
on the bar twice.
I heard some shuffling and a man emerged from the back room. I
immediately understood what the difference was in this town. He was short,
maybe a head smaller than me, his skin the color of exposed muscle tissue,
his eyes a watery yellow. Unlike me, he had a full head of brown hair that
he’d grown long and was using to cover his face, but I could still tell what
he was immediately. He was more handsome than me, but that’s a relative
statement. His yellow eyes lit up a bit when he saw me, and he approached
the bar.
“Welcome,” his voice was raspy, like he’d been a pack-a-day smoker
since he was two, and he smiled at me with yellow pointed teeth, smaller
and less sharp than my own, but still more than capable of tearing through
flesh.
I looked him over for a second before asking the question I’d wanted to
ask since I entered the bar. “Got hooch?”
His smile flickered for a moment—that hadn’t been the question he’d
wanted to hear, but he recovered quickly. He must have a high Customer
Service rank.
“Sure, first rounds on me,” he reached behind the bar and I heard a
scoop and pour before a cup of foul-smelling liquid was placed in front of
me.
I sniffed it. “This what you serve the… regulars?”
He nodded.
“What about what you drink?”
He shook his head. “I uh, don’t drink.”
“A bartender who doesn’t drink? That’s almost as strange as a deadman
living somewhere besides Pott’s Field.”
He gave a small smile. “Drinking killed my pa.”
“Well, just a heads up, what gets them drunk is barely a tickle for us.” I
slammed the glass he gave me back, lifting my bandana over it, and
swallowed it quickly. “Thanks for the drink though.”
We sat in silence for a bit, the young deadman shuffling on his feet as I
took out my gun and began cleaning it. I didn’t want to get involved, but the
way he was staring at me eventually forced me to say something, if only to
settle him down.
“I’m Donovan,” I said, reaching out a hand for him to take. He was
startled, but shook it.
“Tim, nice to meet you.”
“So, how’s a deadman become a bartender?”
Tim smiled. “Well, I was born here. My ma was Boss’ sister, my pa was
his best friend. He made the town keep me when I was born, and kept them
from exiling Ma. She went missing a few years later though, and just a
while after that pa drank himself to death. Boss wanted to discourage folks
from drinkin too much after that, so he made me a bartender, helped me get
the job on the R.A.S. an everythin.”
I chuckled. “He uses you as a deterrent?”
“Well, that’s how it was at first, but now almost everyone comes in fer a
drink sometime.”
I wanted to explain to him how dangerous all of this was for him, but he
seemed like a sweet kid and I hoped I was wrong.
“You must be good with people.”
He smiled proudly. “I got my Customer Service rank up to twenty-two.”
“Respectable,” I said, cleaning my gun. I didn’t have the heart to tell
him that the deadman penalty for Customer Service put that closer to two.
No other deadman I’d spoken to had the Virus readout on the citizen sheet,
so he likely wasn’t aware of that himself. Still, the fact that he’d gone that
far was impressive.
“What do you do, mister?”
“I’m a courier. I travel between settlements, carrying letters and
packages.”
“You seen a lot of places?”
“Yes.”
“Anywhere extra special?”
I thought about it, picturing the places I’d been. Green-tinted wastes
crackling with odd electricity, a city of deadmen in the middle of the tear
that divides east from west, a river filled to the brim with gators the size of
cars, and a stretch of road where reality itself seemed to bend and fade. I
looked back at him.
“Not really.”
Tim had a spare room, which is to say he had a shack attached to the
side of the building with a bare mattress on it. I pulled out a worn
paperback and read for most of the day before closing my eyes. After that I
slept just as restfully as I would’ve if I’d been outside the walls, with a gun
in my hand and my eyes half opened.
I was woken up by rays of light pouring through holes in the shack’s
construction. I assessed my surroundings before I opened my eyes. No
unfamiliar smells or sounds, so I opened them, confirming I was alone. I sat
up and made my way to the bathroom, a blue bucket that I popped outside
the door once I was done.
I made my way back inside the bar and saw Tim just starting to drag a
few patrons outside to sober up. He was holding two at once, and I held the
door for him to toss them outside. After that he poured me a drink and slid
me a bowl of some kind of oats. I removed the bandana around my mouth
and noticed that even Tim’s eyes widened at my teeth. I took some dried
meat from a pouch and tore a few pieces into the oats before tucking in.
Tim looked at me questioningly.
“It was a deer. Attacked me on the road a ways back, had teeth like
razors. Radiated meat like this tastes better to us.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I broke off a piece of the meat and handed it to him.
He nibbled at it tentatively, but then immediately shoved the entire thing
into his mouth, chewing ferociously.
I handed him the rest of what I had in my hand. I found myself feeling a
little responsible for him. It was clear he’d never encountered another
deadman. At the same time, I couldn’t stick around, and when I’d seen this
kind of thing in the past, it had never gone well. I finished eating before
deciding to speak.
“You should leave.”
Tim swallowed a piece of meat he’d been chewing. “What?”
“Kind. you should leave the town.”
“Why?”
I sighed. “Because eventually they’ll turn on you.”
“No they wouldn’t. I’ve been here since I was a kid, and they’ve always
treated me well.”
I looked around the shitty bar. Treated well was quite the overstatement.
“Tolerated and found a use for” seemed more fitting.
“Listen, kid, I’m just telling you how things are. The next time
something goes wrong, food runs low, someone goes missing, a raider slips
in, they’ll be looking for someone to blame, and you’re the only one who
doesn’t look like them.”
He glared at me. “It’s not like that here. Uncle Boss’d never let that
happen.”
“I just… I felt obligated to warn you. Do what you want. I’m not sure if
an Undertaker ever comes this way, but I know one hits Davis a short way
east. Pott’s Field ain’t a perfect place, but you’d be safe.”
“I’m safe here, and all fairness, mister, I don’t even fucking know you.”
I nodded. “I’ve said my piece. I’ll leave you be.” I covered my mouth
back up with my bandana. “Thank you for the room and the breakfast.” I
sent fifteen PP his way. He hadn’t made me pay for the food and room, but
a tip felt fair.
I left the bar, feeling Tim’s yellow eyes bore a hole in the back of my
head as I did. It wasn’t my desire to ruin people’s days, but it seemed to
happen pretty often.
When I reached the center of Kind there was a line of citizens waiting
with letters and packages. A lot of people had kin who were spread out
across the area since before the tearing. Regular caravans and traders could
handle goods, but I mostly wound up transporting gifts and letters that were
meant for those distant relatives, or quick communiques between settlement
leaders.
I started taking packages and letters, ignoring the clear trepidation they
felt handing them to me. I’d initially let people load their items themselves,
but I’d been screwed by collapsing towers of boxes too often; besides, there
were other benefits. I noted that there was a new notification as I loaded the
second-to-last box.
Congratulations, Citizen! You have earned a rank in
Loading/unloading! Even the Statue of Liberty was shipped here one piece
at a time!
I felt a small amount of shame for the warm feeling I got from
improving that trivial skill, but I did have a fundamental love of seeing
ranks go up and numbers improve. Besides, at least it wasn’t Walking.
“I’ll probably be back through in two or three weeks depending on
storms, or if I get killed.”
JD spoke up as the other Kind folk dispersed. “How could that happen?
Aren’t you already a deadman?” he asked with a wry smile.
I looked at him through my goggles for a few long seconds. “Ha,” I said
in monotone and started walking toward the gate.
THREE
DEADZONE
T he most direct route between Kind and Boon was straight through a
deadzone. I wasn’t familiar with this one, but I figured I’d risk the trek
straight through to cut time off the journey.
The edges of deadzones aren’t usually distinct. If you didn’t have a
Geiger counter handy, or weren’t familiar with an area it could be easy to
wander into one without realizing it. This one snuck up on me. The road I
was walking slowly went from solid to broken through by plants and
patches of water, until I found myself walking through a thick swamp.
Deadzones tended to be areas with high rads, but they were named
deadzones because they killed people, not necessarily because they didn’t
hold life of their own. The swamp was teeming with it. Lizards the size of
dogs and frogs with long tails scurried away as I walked, sensing a more
dangerous predator than they could handle. I broke a branch from a tree that
bled a sticky orange substance, and I started using it to touch the ground in
front of me, using it to avoid drowning in soft patches of earth. My cart had
no issues, it just hummed softly as its treads carried it through any
difficulty.
As I walked my Geiger counter trilled loudly in areas of particularly
thick foliage, and as I reached what I gauged to be the center of the zone I
began to hear a loud buzzing noise. I removed my Geiger counter and held
it to my ear, but the buzzing wasn’t coming from it. I kept moving, and as I
did the buzzing grew louder.
I walked about another mile before I saw what was making the noise.
What looked like a black cloud was writhing in front of me. It undulated
and danced, moving in what seemed like random directions. After watching
it for a few minutes, I realized what it was. Mosquitos, thick as a cement
wall. I wasn’t sure if they’d noticed me and were ignoring me, or if they
were simply preoccupied with something else. None broke off from the
cloud to bite me. Instead, they moved as a single entity.
After watching them for a few minutes, I noticed something. A glint of
metal peeking through their thick cloud. I watched that spot a little longer
and was able to slowly piece together a picture of a body, guns, and a bag.
Salvage, valuable salvage. It’s one of the benefits of being able to
explore deadzones relatively freely. A lot of people wander in and die,
leaving behind goods that tend to lie untouched. I considered ignoring it,
but the gun didn’t look like the crap I was used to finding. It seemed well-
maintained. It seemed like whoever had died to leave it behind had taken
care of it.
I pulled out some meat and ate it while I considered what to do. The
mosquitos hadn’t bothered me yet, but I didn’t know if that would last if I
walked into them. My clothing covered most of my body, but I was certain
they could slip between the folds of it if they wanted to. I considered a fire,
but finding dry wood in a swamp didn’t seem likely. That left one option. I
pulled out my machete.
Citizen, you have found a dead Marshal. You are being offered the
following job:
Federal Marshal
I blinked—a Marshal. The dead man had been a Marshal. I’d heard the
rumors, but I’d never thought they really existed. They were dangerous to
the point that supposedly even the Iron Horde was wary of them.
I shook off my surprise. What’s in front of me was more important than
notifications at the moment, especially since I was unsure if the mosquito
cloud would return. I found two rifles, a pistol, a bag half full of ammo and
provisions, a small notepad, and a metal badge with the word “Marshal”
stamped across it.
I heard an approaching buzz as the mosquitos returned and left the body
where it lay. One mosquito managed to land on my exposed wrist, and I
watched it take a drink then proceed to die. I’d assumed the rads in my
blood wouldn’t bother creatures that lived in the deadzone, but it was
possible that my virus made it even less tasty than the radiation did. Either
way, it looked like I may have been overly cautious. Better than dead
though.
I checked on my cart, and when I found that everything was fine I
started back on my previous path. Night fell before I reached the end of it,
but I pushed on. Deadzones were rarely a smart place to sleep. Luckily, my
great skill at Walking made the rest of the trek go smoothly.
The swamp ended as gradually as it began. Thick trees, pools of
glowing water, and strange mutant wildlife gradually gave way to barren
roads and shattered buildings. The trill of my Geiger counter slowly quieted
to a soft purr. I made a mental note to let any guides in the next town know
exactly what was killing people there, aside from the radiation.
I did a quick scan around to make sure no one was nearby and went to
find a place to camp. Eventually I found the husk of a bus and was lucky
enough that a few of the seats actually had padding. I parked my cart just
outside the door, making sure the cargo was locked down, and covered it
with a tarp. After that I climbed inside. I had a quick meal of meat and
looked through the Marshal’s provisions. I was gratified to find peppers,
some kind of hard bread, a few raw onions, and some dried meat. I treated
myself to one of the peppers and enjoyed the burning as the juices from it
filled my mouth. They were fresh. My guess was that he’d gotten them in
Boon.
One of the rifles I found was similar to one I’d used before. It took .308
ammo, which was good, because most gunsmiths made that pretty steadily.
The other rifle I didn’t recognize, along with two magazines of ammo in a
caliber I’d never seen. I dry fired it and gave it a closer look. I was
surprised to find that it was automatic. Between the unique ammo and the
auto fire it wouldn’t be practical for regular use, but I liked the idea of
having something powerful in my back pocket for emergencies. The
revolver was a .38. I’d seen them before and didn’t care for them as much
as my 9mm, but I bet I could pick up a decent amount of PP from the right
trader for it. The notepad was soaked through with a mixture of blood and
water, making it unreadable. Overall, the haul was worth the effort.
Once I was done, I turned my attention to the notification I’d gotten. I
gave it a long, focused read. There was an opportunity here. Jobs like this
one were hard to come by, and the fact that I could have both it and my
courier job meant there were no real negatives to taking it. None aside from
becoming embroiled in solving a murder.
I accepted the new job.
You are carrying on the legacy of men like Wild Bill Hickock, Wyatt
Earp, and Bas Reeves!
That a marshal shall be appointed in and for each district for a term
of four years, but shall be removable from office at pleasure, whose
duty it shall be to attend the district and circuit courts when sitting
therein, and also the Supreme Court in the district in which that
court shall sit. And to execute throughout the district, all lawful
precepts directed to him, and issued under the authority of the
United States, and he shall have the power to command all
necessary assistance in the execution of his duty, and to appoint as
shall be occasion, one or more deputies. - Judiciary Act
I had no idea who the hell Bill Hickock and those folks were, but I
assumed they were impressive since they were included in a system
message. I also noticed that I should apparently have the ability to deputize
people, but I saw no such ability on my citizen sheet when I pulled it up.
Citizen: Donovan
5th Level Postman/ 1st Level Marshal (Temporary)
Patriot Points: 24
Strength- 20
Perception- 15
Intelligence- 10
Nationalism- 3
Endurance- 23
Speed- 17
Job Abilities:
Neither Rain, Sleet, or Snow: You are unhampered by adverse
weather.
Express: You gain a 5% bonus to movement speed.
Special Delivery: You can mark a delivery “special,” which will
allow you to track it.
Under Cover: You may retain your previous job, and those with the
ability to read your sheet will see whichever job you choose to show.
You’re Under Arrest: You may temporarily remove all job-based
bonuses from a target to ease apprehending them. This person will
be highlighted in your vision while this ability is active.
Skills:
Walking- 34
Pistol- 8
Loading/unloading- 22
Customer Service- 12
Driving- 3
Melee Weapons- 1
Long Guns- 1
Investigation- 1
Tracking- 1
Virus:
Deadman- Bonus to all physical stats +5, negative to social-based
skills
Natural weapon- Teeth
Night Vision
The new skills had a lot of value, particularly melee weapons. I was
already good with a machete, but having it as an actual skill meant I could
get much better with it a lot quicker. I also noticed my Pistol skill got an
automatic boost of one. I wanted to keep these new advantages, to use
them. All I needed to do was solve a murder. The strange wounds on the
body seemed to be the best clue to finding what may have happened. I went
into my sheet and activated my undercover ability to make only my
Postman job display. There was a chance the Marshal had been shot in
Boon, no sense in me taking the risk of being found out. If anyone had the
Mayor or other bureaucratic jobs now they’d only see the profession I had
allowed to display. Once I was done, I drew my duster closely about myself
and went to sleep.
FOUR
A BOON FOR BOON
I woke up before dawn. I wanted to sleep more, but my night was full of
bad dreams that made old scars ache. I climbed out of the bus seat I’d
curled up in and slung my pack over my shoulders. The added weight of
yesterday’s loot made me grimace, but it was well worth it. Outside of the
bus my cart remained untouched. I got everything together and started back
on the road toward Boon.
Even with my brief detour the previous day I was making good time,
thanks to the shortcut I’d taken through the deadzone. After only about four
hours of working on my favorite skill, Boon began to come into sight. I’d
heard it described by another courier at one point, but seeing it was a
different story. The town was about five times larger than Kind had been. It
was built on two sides of a river, with the majority of the town on the river
itself. Old tourist steamships, small dinghies, and rotting yachts were all
strung together across the river and built on top of with wood and scrap-
metal structures. The shacks on the edges of the river all seemed to be for
merchants and security, and I could tell that the outermost boats were
fortified in case of attack. Even at the distance I was I could see freshly
burnt holes in the walls and barricades that made up the fortification.
Whatever weapon had killed the Marshal had also been used here.
When I was nearly at the outskirts I realized there were no traders in the
outer part of Boon, only security with guns. I made sure my cart was visible
and put my hands up after ensuring my bandana and goggles were covering
my face. They’d definitely been attacked and were likely a little trigger
happy, so I wanted to appear as friendly as possible.
One of the men saw me and I watched him call for backup. I waited
where I was until there were three more men, who all approached me with
their rifles raised.
When they were close enough, I said, “Courier.”
One of the men, who had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth,
approached me a bit closer and looked me and my cart over. “Slim?”
“Dead.”
“You a deadman?”
“That obvious, huh?”
He took a long draw from his cigarette and spat out the butt. “Alright.”
He turned to the other armed men. “Let him in.”
I expected some argument, but they just nodded and took places behind
the cart so they could escort me into the outskirts of town. This was in a lot
of ways my ideal interaction. Quick, easy, no small talk. Unfortunately, this
was the one time I needed more details.
“Security always this tight?” I asked as I started unloading packages
onto a table one of the men had dragged out of a nearby shack.
“Should’ve been,” answered the man who’d been smoking as he lit
another cigarette. He was older, and had a face the shape of a cinderblock,
but meaner. In spite of his looks, he held out a cigarette to me.
“No thank you.”
He shrugged and pocketed it. I noticed his men giving me suspicious
glares as I continued the work of unloading, but whenever they seemed
about to say something, they’d catch themselves and look at the smoking
man.
“Something go down recently?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Listen, I’m going to be traveling around here and making deliveries.
Any chance I could get some more information?”
The man took a long inhale from his cigarette and blew it into the air.
“Raiders. Bout thirty of them. A few of them had some kind of weapon I
ain’t seen before. It was like it was shooting pure heat. Burned holes in
people, buildings. They rounded up everyone left outside and carted them
up north. Not sure exactly where to. I would avoid that whole area if I were
you.”
“Alright, thanks.” I finished unloading the boxes and let them know I’d
be back in two days to pick up any deliveries they had to head back to Kind.
I asked if there was a place I could sleep. They offered one of the most
outside buildings. That was typical, but I told them I’d camp out and return
later.
I walked out of the settlement and reviewed my notifications.
Excellent work, Postman! You’ve successfully performed the primary
goal of your job ‘Delivery’! You’ve earned 173 Patriot Points!
Congratulations, Citizen! You have earned a rank in Investigation! Here
in the US we have the right to question everything, except freedom!
Solid gains overall. I wondered if the R.A.S. would distinguish between
which jobs the PP belonged to, or if I’d be able to choose how to distribute
them. If I could choose that would be very helpful. Since leveling was
automatic, when someone received enough PP it could sometimes leave you
with too little to spend, but if I could just avoid choosing where to distribute
them it meant I could save PP when I wanted to use it to buy something in a
town. Considering how much higher settlements usually charged me than a
non-deadman, that could be very helpful.
I had some answers and a general location for where to take my
investigation. I also had enough information to make me reconsider what I
was doing. Around thirty raiders, powerful unknown weapons, and a mass
kidnapping. That was a lot to deal with. The advantages I’d received from
the new job were significant, but I’d been doing fine as a Postman.
Fine as a Postman wasn’t enough though. It had simply been the best of
the options I’d had. A job like Marshal felt right, felt like something I could
really use. Something that could help me do what I felt needed to be doing
when I felt like doing it. There was also the fact they’d kidnapped people,
probably to trade as slaves. I knew what it was like to experience that. I
might be able to save a few people the way I’d wanted to be. Maybe some
of the people I freed would only let out a small scream when they saw who
was rescuing them.
I broke from my thoughts and realized I was already heading north.
Apparently my feet knew what I wanted better than I did.
After a few hours of walking, I saw smoke. I drew my new hunting rifle
and began treading more carefully. Luckily, the area I was walking through
was wooded, so I had ample places to hide or take cover.
Eventually I reached the source of the smoke. It was what looked to
have been a small encampment in the middle of a clearing. There was a ring
of small log cabins and other outbuildings arrayed in neat rows and lines. In
front of the structures was a sign that read, “Campsite.” The buildings were
riddled with holes—both bullet holes and the strange burns I’d seen in
Boon. I approached cautiously, hiding behind the walls of the building
closest to me and slipping from building to building, keeping my eyes and
the holes of my ears open and focused as I moved.
Unfortunately, they still got the drop on me. A gunshot rang out and
splintered the wood of a cabin wall next to me. I ducked down, just in time
for another to ring out. I dove backward and made my way to behind where
the cabin sat. The next shot hit the ground next to me. I went to the other
side of the cabin and peeked out just in time to see a man on the roof of the
opposite cabin line up a shot at me. He fired just as I swung my head back
behind cover.
I took a deep breath and considered my options. I could run straight and
lose him in the woods, but I needed more information. I could also trade
shots, but he was in a much better position than I was. I looked into the
cabin window and noticed that the door on the other side was mostly
closed. I slowly slid the window open and climbed inside, keeping as low as
I could.
Once I was inside I heard a noise coming from where I’d just been. I
slowly peeked out and saw a second man with a pistol. They’d been trying
to flank me.
I slowly made my way to the front of the cabin and peeked out toward
the sharpshooter. He was still looking at either edge of the cabin. I backed
into the shadows and began lining up a shot with my rifle. Once I was
certain, I pulled the trigger.
The first shot narrowly missed and buried itself behind him, but I let off
two more before he could react and those two dropped him. I watched his
body slump and slide off the roof, leaving a trail of blood behind. I leapt
through the front door and ducked to the side, drawing my pistol. The
second man went through the gap between cabins, and as he passed me I
made a shot low and caught his knee, making him tumble forward,
dropping his gun.
I closed the distance between us, my gun still ready, but he’d fallen
headfirst on a rock, leaving a bloody head print, and was no longer
conscious. I rolled him over. He was still breathing. That was good. I still
needed more information, and I didn’t mind earning another point in
Investigation the hard way.
I cleaned up and tossed the body outside. If I managed to free the people
who were taken, a man with his head cut in half wouldn’t be the first
thing they’d want to see on walking in the door. I looted the bodies of both
him and the shooter and came away with a handful of 9mm rounds and a
dozen .308s. I was also happy to find that the rooftop shooter and I shared a
boot size and traded mine out for his.
The fight and interrogation had netted me another rank in Long Gun,
Melee Weapons, and Investigation, but I hadn’t received any PP for it. I
assumed I wouldn’t receive any PP for the job objectives until I’d made it
permanent.
Whatever the case, I had more walking to do. I made my way in the
direction of where the raider I’d interrogated had said his group’s camp
was. I’d never been to Porto, or heard about it from another courier. I stayed
just off the main roads and paths. If they’d had the idea to leave some
people in the last settlement as an ambush, then they may also have patrols
set up. I was disappointed that I didn’t run into any by the time Porto came
into view. I’d hoped I’d be able to pick some of them off away from the
main group.
It was night, and the camp was lit by electric lamps. Porto generally
looked a lot like the other towns I’d seen. It was a broken mess of buildings
half repaired for people to live in and clinging to ideas about what the world
should be. The light of the lamps cast those buildings in deep shadows that
were broken up by the people walking across the light.
My first goal became clear—turning off the lights. I began creeping
closer to the settlement, looking for an area where I could find a decent
vantage on the entire place. Unfortunately, the tallest thing to climb was a
building almost halfway into the town that looked occupied, based on the
light I could see inside.
I crept along the edge of the camp. There were three men standing
guard at various points and doing a disorganized kind of patrolling. I took
off my pack and buried it, then slung the strange gun I’d gotten off the
Marshal over my shoulder and checked my pistol. I’d rely on the machete
to keep quiet as long as I could and switch to my guns if things got dicey,
which I knew they would. Then I hid my rifle in a bush, loaded with the
safety off. I’d use that spot as a fallback location.
Once I was done, I moved on the man patrolling at the far right. I crept
along the woods as long as possible and activated my new ability. He didn’t
seem to notice, but after I used it he became highlighted in my vision. I was
able to see him even when there were walls between us. I observed for a
few more moments and waited for him to turn his back, and when he did I
ran as fast as I could toward him.
He must’ve heard me. He turned around and went to whip his gun
around, but his movements were sluggish, and I could see some confusion
on his face.
His hesitation was all I needed to slam my machete into his chest. His
eyes widened and he gasped, struggling to scream, but only letting out what
little air remained in his lungs. I grabbed his body before it fell and moved
it behind the remains of a small building. After that I went to work on the
next two.
The middle guard had actually fallen asleep by the time I reached him. I
sheathed my machete and drew a small knife I kept at my waist. I didn’t
want to dull the blade on the machete more than I needed to. I dragged it
across his throat quickly, then hid his body as well. The third one was the
most alert. I climbed a building that sat behind him and waited for him to
cross under me. Once he did, I leapt down and drove my machete into his
back as I landed.
I let out a sigh. Good luck so far, three of roughly thirty down. I was
already a tenth of the way done.
After hiding the final body, I made my way to one of the standing
halogen lamps. The cord extended deeper into the camp toward another of
the lamps. From where I was standing I couldn’t tell exactly where it went,
but the arrangement of the wires indicated that whatever was powering
them was in the middle-west part of the town.
I climbed back up the building I’d leapt from to get a better vantage. It
wasn’t as helpful as the tall one would’ve been, but it did get me my first
decent view of the interior portion of Porto. It was about what I expected
from a raider town. Men with guns drinking hooch, dragging men and
women that I guessed had been taken from the nearby settlements into
darkened buildings, and scattered fights. Blitz and redeye were being used
freely and dangerously, it looked like an OD had already saved me the
trouble of killing one of them. The only sign that there was organization of
any kind was that one of the men was sitting on the top floor of a building
that had lost its upper half. He was bent over some powdered redeye,
snorting it with vigor, while two bored-looking women sat at his feet.
Across his back was what I assumed was one of the burning weapons. It
had a round barrel that ended in a point, almost like a pencil. Unlike any
other guns I’d seen, it shone brightly as if brand new, and I couldn’t tell
how it took ammunition.
I climbed back down with a much better mental map than I’d had
before. I started sneaking as carefully as I could along the edge of buildings,
rubble, or whatever other cover I could find. The area was well-lit, but it
seemed like the only men worried about an attack had been the ones they’d
placed on watch. I ducked into a building just as one of the raiders passed
by. I kept my breathing steady—I was about halfway to where all the wires
seemed to be leading.
I heard movement and moved my eyes from the door. There were three
people, two young women and a man. They looked up at me with terrified
eyes, I could see a number of fresh bruises on them, and they were
trembling. I held up a finger to my mouth, realizing that the hand was
covered in blood as I did so. They didn’t respond, but they didn’t make any
noise either, and that’s all I needed from them. After the space was clear I
began moving back toward where the wires led. I got into the building
without being detected and walked deeper inside. The building was
nondescript, but there were a number of muddy footprints that indicated
people were in and out of the room frequently.
I heard a noise and flattened myself against the wall. Unlike the outside,
the building itself wasn’t well-lit and I hoped it would help me blend in to
the wall. A man entered the hallway, his eyes blurry from drink, and walked
past me. I slashed my machete across his neck, decapitating him. I used
more strength than I’d meant to, but after seeing the captives the raiders had
taken up close, I no longer had any restraint. I tossed the body and headed
into an empty room off the hallway, following the cables back. They led me
into a room in the back, in the center of which was a massive hatch that had
been flung open, with stairs that led underground.
I warily made my way down, clearing rooms but finding them all
empty. The entire place was strange. The walls were cold metal, and cleaner
than anything I’d ever seen before, even with the muddy bootprints that led
deeper into it. There were pictures on walls and laid on tables that were
drawn on blue gridded paper in shapes I didn’t recognize. Computers with
still-intact monitors lined the walls in some rooms and filled the bunker
with a kind of low hum. I was tempted to see what I could gain from
booting one up. I’d managed to scrape together a working one at one point
using pieces and guidebooks I’d looted or purchased from merchants, so I
knew how they worked, but now wasn’t the time.
I followed the wires further down into what was turning out to be a
pretty big facility. It seemed stupid to me that the raiders didn’t simply live
in these tunnels, but that wasn’t my problem. Eventually I made it to the
source of the cords. There was what appeared to be some kind of generator,
and a series of plugs had been crudely assembled in such a way that I
wouldn’t be surprised if wiring them up had killed a few would-be
electricians as they’d worked on it. I hesitated. I’d have to move quickly
after I shut it down, but shutting it down from within and trapping myself
inside the bunker was a distinctly bad idea. I hadn’t expected the power
source to be so distant from the surface. I made my way back out and
grabbed a bundle of the wires, arraying them next to each other. I slipped a
leather glove onto my hand and held the handle of the machete tightly,
triple-checking that it had a wooden handle despite having used it for more
than a year. I raised it and struck downward hard. There was a flash of
sparks and the lights died.
There were a few choice exclamations and some screaming. I calmly
walked into the shadows of a nearby building and squatted down. It was
time to take advantage of my natural night vision. I located each of the
raiders and activated my Arrest ability. By the time I was done my vision
was filled with twenty-three highlighted raiders panicking, sobering up, and
even finding one of the bodies of the men I’d killed on the outskirts of the
town. They were off-balance, surprised, and scared. It was time to go to
work.
SIX
ONE BY ONE
I was surprised when I woke up. I was surprised that I woke up. The
debris were still on top of me and the area sounded quiet, but I waited for a
couple minutes before pushing them off. I put my hands on the spots where
I knew I’d been wounded. I found holes in my clothes, but none in me. I
had always been tough, but that was new.
Once I stood my vision was suddenly swallowed up by a notification. I
tried to dismiss it, but it didn’t move from my eyes. I looked at it: it was
highlighted in the same way the raiders had been after I’d marked them, and
the text was bolder as well.