Death Smith - Book 1 - Chapter 5

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Leap of stupidity

Seven months ago.

August, 13 AR.

Inside Rift 1.

The initial stage of their exodus progressed slowly. All twenty-four survivors gradually learned to traverse the muddy landscape while navigating past vines covered in barbs. Both the Rifters that led the way seemed to adapt much faster.

The further they went from the hospital, the more morale tanked, with people doubting whether they had made the correct decision. No doubt this was because the mission now was to wipe out the monsters instead of just surviving.

“They know what they are doing, right?”

“It will be all right... it has to be!”

“Perhaps we left too hastily. A few more days would not have hurt,”

The survivors said, whispering between them, not daring to speak their minds openly. The Rifters themselves were aware of these fears, not needing to rely on their improved hearing to figure out that the group was still having their doubts.

Lance had his fears but understood why they needed to head out. Even now, a day or so later, they were burning through their food and water like crazy. A few of the survivors simply dismissed it, saying that they could simply filter the water and boil it, or even catch some wildlife.

‘If it were that easy, why did Rifters usually bring provisions for several weeks with them? Beyond that, the Rifters were ill prepared as well. Dieter had not repaired his gear or restocked his supplies since his last Rift, while Daniel had lost much of his gear when he had gotten injured and was now using knives and a sword instead of a ranged weapon,’ Lance thought as he simply followed the group. In his left hand, he held an improvised shield made from a steel cafeteria tray. In his other hand, he carried an IV-Pole that he had hammered into a sharp edge.

His thoughts on the weapon had improved throughout the day, having seen Daniel use a similar tool as a javelin to impale a monster at a distance. Daniel embedded it in a tree so deep that only a Rifter could pull it out. ‘The problem lies not with the tool, but us. We simply are too weak to combat these monsters unless we outnumber them,’ He figured.

“Lance, you are doing that thing again,” Thomas commented, his gaze focused on Lance.

“What thing?”

“You know... when you zone out for a few minutes and stare off into nothing. It looks creepy,” Thomas said to Lance, noticing how the man looked lost in his thoughts. Lance was prone to overthinking now and again. It was a handy trait to have since he was quite creative. The downside was it also sometimes made him slower to react or less aware of his surroundings.

The group slowly moved forward, stepping on dry marshland and avoiding the soggy soil that would no doubt steal a shoe or sock if they were to sink in too deep.

As the group moved onwards, so did their experience within this land. The deeper they found themselves within the swamp, the harder it became to breathe because of the stench of rotting wood and carcasses.

“I can hardly breathe here,” Thomas commented, wiping his brow that was slick with sweat as he laboured onwards. Thomas helped the wounded get over larger tree trunks and back down again.

“Try to breathe less through that big container you call a nose. It helps. The air is clean enough to breathe. It just smells horrible,” Lance commented, eager to share his thoughts.

“I’ll try. And -by the way- you are an ass,” Thomas said, showing a bit of teeth at the end.

Lance simply laughed at Thomas’s remark. After that, Lance helped one of the wounded down, carrying her backpack and nodding to her. He would carry it for a while.

It was not long after that when the Rifters stopped the group. Dieter then began handing out a small canister containing a black oily substance. Instructions followed quickly. They were to smear it on the inside of their noses to block the smell… somewhat. Although the substance smelled unpleasant, it was far less nauseating than the natural smell of their surroundings.

Like earlier, the item that they had just shared vanished from their hands afterwards. It was as if it suddenly did not exist anymore.

* * * * *

“Maintain ranks!”

The sounds of metal hitting wood, people groaning, and the sound of monsters and people dying hung thick in the air.

“Hold the line! Keep them at bay!” Thomas screamed, his face red from the effort. He rammed his spear as hard as he could, slamming against knees, shoulders, or the face of these horrible monsters, or ‘Lizardlings’ as the Rifters had described them. Both Daniel and Dieter had never run into them but had heard of them and had seen illustrations or footage of them. But familiarity of a monster did not mean all that much since the level of a Rift determined the strength of these monsters. So, a Lizardling fought at a lower-level Rift would be a different experience compared to one in a higher-level Rift.

They presented a fierce wall of spears and shields to the monsters. The Rifters had tasked the strong and healthy survivors with keeping them at bay. The injured were behind them, throwing rocks, a handful of mud or even improvised wooden javelins at them. They aimed each throw at the eyes or other unprotected areas.

The survivors barely held back seven of these Lizardlings. In terms of raw strength, they were at a disadvantage. They had one major advantage: Their Rift-hound.

Each time the wall of shields appeared to falter; they would suddenly find itself strengthened by the enraged Rift-hound that would attack the enemy from behind in hit-and-run tactics.

The survivors could hear Thomas screaming at the top of his lungs. “Just a little longer!”

“There are too many!”

“It hurts!”

“Just a few more minutes! The Rifters are nearly here!” Thomas howled, forcing them to go on beyond what they themselves thought they could.

Fatigue was hitting ‘Thomas’s troops’ hard. Initially, it had seemed like a straightforward fight. They would hold the line and the two Rifters would inflict damage.

‘How long has it been?’ Lance thought, feinting with his spear a second, then thrusting it downwards, hitting it against its knee and further damaging the weakened area there. ´They should have dealt with them by now. Are they even still alive?’

He recalled how chaotic it all had become when the Lizardlings got reinforcement. Additional Lizardlings would be hard to deal with, yet what came crashing into their ranks were of a different and larger calibre; two Lizardmen alongside more Lizardlings. Within seconds, the large and bulky Lizardmen had torn apart two survivors, simply ripping off limbs as if the human body were like paper to them.

Reacting quickly, Dieter had charged one of them, using an absurd amount of strength to tackle it and several Lizardlings down a slope and into the marshland. Daniel had thrown several daggers at the last Lizardman, wounding one of its eyes and drawing its attention before leading it away from the group.

‘We need to change the balance of power drastically. If we do not, then the Rifters will find only corpses,’ He thought, racking his brain as he glanced at Thomas, who was rushing left and right, to keep strengthening the line. Swapping places with the injured until they could get back in the thick of it. Lance shouted as loud as he could so that Thomas could hear him. “THOMAS! I need three minutes.”

“Are you injured?”

“No, but I probably will be afterwards. I have an idea!” Lance shouted.

“I… Argh! Dammit. You got two minutes,” Thomas said as he rushed to Lance’s side and slapped him on the shoulder. After switching places with Lance, he brought forth his large steel pipe and forced it down upon the shoulder of one of the Lizardling. Each time shattering pieces of its scales due to sheer hatred and stubbornness.

Lance rushed backwards and almost slammed into one of the wounded survivors there, who was about to throw another rock in desperation. “You have one minute. Wrap every bit of cloth you can find around my arms and torso. Now!” Lance screamed at the survivor, forcing him into action.

“What? Why?”

“Help me or we all die! Cloth, now!” Had it been any other situation, he might have felt horrible for shouting at someone who was visibly distraught. Sadly, now was the time for action.

With clumsy hands, the man wrapped the cloth around Lance’s arms before placing the rest of it around his chest and stomach. He needed a layer of protection while still be able to grip things.

‘I hope this works,’ Lance told himself as he rushed towards the left flank and began climbing towards the top of the large rocky slope.

The right flank bordered a treacherous swamp that would claim a person, no matter their strength. A large slope that was covered with sharp, jagged rock formations protected the other flank. This was the reason they had been fighting in a straight line for so long and why manoeuvring was useless.

‘This is it... Please work,’ Lance thought as he sped past sharp rocks, occasionally noticing the sheets get torn and feel a fierce pain as he cut himself. Slowly he got in position, eying an unstable-looking rock that would serve as his hammer in this plan. The rock itself was quite heavy and covered with jagged edges that made it hard to push against, yet the layer upon layer of the protective fabric helped.

“Move dammit!” He said aloud and cursed as he applied pressure to it with his spear, wedging it at the bottom to transfer more energy. It was not until he was using his feet against a nearby rock and pressing with his back into it, he felt it move.

“Thomas!” Lance shouted as a slight movement quickly turned into a sudden feeling of weightlessness before he fell on his back, feeling him tumble down the slope towards the monsters, albeit behind the rock that was now hurtling towards the dangerous enemy.

‘Please let this work. Please!’ He thought as he felt his body hit against smaller rocks, ram into the dirt, finally sliding alongside the floor with enough force to knock the breath out of him.

Thomas was quick to notice it and scream at the rest of his men. “Now! Back!” The survivors moved backwards to dodge the incoming rock that crashed into the scene seconds later.

A few of the monsters had noticed it coming and had dashed backwards, yet the element of surprise had caught half of the Lizardlings as the heavy rock hit them with full force.

-Crunch-

Thomas grinned at the sounds of a large rock destroying bones, scale, while pulverising and smearing flesh out across the rocky soil. What had been a stalemate of sorts had spiralled to a sudden major advantage, with the enemy numbers dwindling from seven to three.

“Attack them in groups! Protect Lance!” Thomas commanded as he rushed forwards, leading several survivors’ forwards in a charge of anger and haste, knowing that each second that passed was another second that Lance remained exposed amongst the surviving monsters.

The already battered and bruised man now also felt claws and teeth trying to dig into his chest and arms. Lance tried his best to protect his vital areas such as his face and neck, yet sharp claws were digging in deeper, finally drawing blood across his shoulder and chest.

With the last strength Lance had, he kicked one of them off before another monster slammed its claw into Lance’s chest with enough force to knock the fight out of him. He felt his vision slowly darkening as he was losing the fight.

‘Is this how I die?’ He thought, as his mind grew sluggish, his body now barely registering the way monsters were slashing at his body or pulling at his arms. In the distance he heard Thomas roar as the survivors’ pushed forwards, introducing a hail of spears to the monsters.

When the first one finally fell, the survivors rushed forwards like a tidal wave, kicking, stabbing, and pinning down every monster until they stopped moving.

“Don’t touch him! We need to support his neck first!” A nurse yelled when Thomas lifted the last slain monster from Lance’s body, seeing his improvised armour torn to shreds and a dozen fresh cuts and wounds now bleeding onto the rocky soil.

“Are you alive, you idiot? Lance? Lance! Say something!” Thomas yelled as he moved closer to Lance, careful not to move the man in case he had broken something. He touched Lance’s wrist, trying to feel his pulse.

“Thomas,” Lance whispered, groaning in pain as he struggled to get up but fail. His sides felt like they were on fire and his left shoulder felt weird. He wanted to say more, to let them know he was all right, but he passed out fully after that.

The last thing he could hear was a doctor yelling for a knife or scissors while Thomas kept calling Lance’s name repeatedly.

* * * * *

Lance woke up suddenly, yelling and flinging his hands before he felt two survivors pressing him backwards again, each one telling him it was all right and that he was safe in a camp.

It took a few minutes before Lance accepted that truth. His mind was still adjusting to not fighting for his life. After getting a bit of water and some food in his system, he asked for Thomas, only to have his best friend walk in a few seconds later with Daniel.

Both Thomas and Daniel looked beyond tired, but the Rifter looked worse for wear, since he sported quite a few bruises on his body and a nasty wound on his left arm that appeared already sutured. ‘Just how long was I out?’ He thought as he noticed the state of them.

“You had us scared there,” Daniel replied as he placed his hand on Lance’s knee and calmly explained what had happened after Lance had made his suicidal jump.

The plan had worked in tipping the balance in their favour, yet Lance had dislocated his left arm, broken two ribs, and had ended with a dozen cuts and scratches all over his body. Some were only superficial, while others were nasty gashes, and would no doubt leave scars in the future.

“If you wanted to die so badly, you could have told us,” Thomas said angrily, his face a torrent of emotions which was still dealing with. No doubt Thomas had felt responsible for Lance’s actions, since he had approved of Lance’s plan.

Daniel tried to soothe the tone. “We tried to treat your wounds as best as we could, but you won’t be dancing a jig for the next few weeks.”

“Not that he could before all this,” Thomas said bitterly as he got up and excused himself, telling Daniel that he was going to check in on Dieter again.

Daniel nodded at that as he waited until Thomas was far enough for them to continue. “You know you could have died at any moment, right? The fall, the monsters themselves, even back on the slope with the rocks,” he said while observing Lance, as if re-evaluating him at that moment.

Daniel was quite proud of both Lance and Thomas. He had heard afterwards of what Lance had done and how creative he was with the tools at his disposal. In one risky move, he had changed the balance of power.

Thomas had rallied the survivors when there were no Rifters at the scene. This said much of his natural leadership. When the fighting had died down, he had set up a small camp to help the injured and install guards. After that, he had taken a third of their fighting force to help the Rifters.

Thomas and the others had found Dieter already done with his fight, having killed the Lizardman and the smaller Lizardlings. Dieter had suffered a nasty head injury during his fall and would be in no condition to fight for a while. By the time they had reached Daniel, they watched as he just finished killing the Lizardman he was fighting.

“You, get some rest for now. We will be staying here until Dieter is back on his feet and the others have healed up. You both probably won’t live to see thirty at the way you are going, but you did great,” Daniel said as he patted Lance’s knee one last time before he got up.

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Author: Osirium

Copyright: 2021 OsiriumWrites

Released: 2021