Mistrunner - Chapter 31 - Layers (Patreon)

Before the Initialization, there were means to keep the power-hungry in check. Most people were content to survive, to ensure that their loved ones were taken care of. However, there will always be those who see what someone else has and decide that it would be better off in their hands. After the Initialization gave these people the means to take what they wanted, warlords and despots became commonplace. At times, I’ve found myself counted among their number.

Jeremiah Braddock III

“Where did you come from?” asked the woman, looking me up and down like I was a side of meat. I returned the favor with my own examination, and what I found was not what I’d expected. Savannah was a stout woman, with a round face and more fat than muscle on her body.  Wearing a simple, mauve-colored button-up top and a pair of jeans, she was sitting behind a rough-hewn table that must’ve served as her desk. Short, jaw-length brown hair and a pale face that looked like it had seen everything the world had to offer, Savannah looked like a woman just past middle-age. Of course, that didn’t say much, given how strangely aging worked in a post-Initialization world.

“Uh…Wilmer,” I answered, remembering my cover. “It’s just north of here, and –”

“I know where Wilmer is,” Savannah said. “My cousin used to live up that way. Back before the Initialization.”

“Oh.”

“Shame what happened there,” she said. “Bears, wasn’t it?”

I recognized her attempt at tripping me up, and I said, “Wolves. Big ones.” To demonstrate, I held my hand up at about head height. Letting my lip quiver, I looked down as I said, “They killed my pa and my little sister, Jodi.”

“And how did you get all the way down here?” Savannah asked.

I wiped at my eyes. Learning how to cry on cue hadn’t been easy, but I’d recognized the necessity. I wasn’t sure if it would help me when the aliens descended, but humans were sensitive to a weeping girl. With my size, I looked young enough to make it doubly effective.

“I…I ran,” I said. “My pa held ‘em off, and I…I just left them…”

It was a well-crafted backstory, complete with all the guilt that might come with a girl who’d been forced to abandon her family. That was one of the key lessons I’d been taught; when it came to adopting a new persona, it was important to understand the emotions involved. Otherwise, the performance would be shallow. And if that happened, everything would fall apart. Savannah needed to believe me; otherwise, things would get very messy. Even if I managed to escape with my life – which, given how many armed men and women I’d seen acting as laborers downstairs, wasn’t a guarantee – I’d fail my mission. No – I needed to convince her that I was what I pretended to be.

Luckily, Savannah didn’t seem to be the suspicious sort. Or I was a better actor than I’d given myself credit for. Either way, she stood up from her cushioned chair and approached me, her arms outstretched. Before I knew it, she’d taken me in her embrace, hugging me tightly.

“There, there, child,” she cooed, patting my back. “You’re safe, now. Nothin’ is gonna get you here.”

Despite the fact that I’d come to think of her as an enemy – and she was; my first-hand experience told me that much – it felt oddly comforting with her arms around me. It shouldn’t have been all that surprising. Jeremiah was a lot of things, but a hugger he wasn’t. As a result, I’d been touch-starved for most of my life. Heather had tried, but I’d always been too wrapped up in hating her to let it really happen.

On top of that, I’d been pushing my emotions to the back of my mind for a while, now. After all, I’d been training to be a badass warrior, hadn’t I? And those kinds of women didn’t get all weepy at the first opportunity. Aside from a few instances where I’d just broken down, I hadn’t had a good cry in some time.

And there was something about pretending to do it that brought out the real thing. Before I knew it, my fake tears had become genuine, and I buried my face in Savannah’s shoulder, sobbing quietly for longer than I care to admit.

To her credit, she didn’t push me away. In her eyes, I was a distraught child, and, whether it was calculated to engender loyalty or simply her maternal side coming through, she wasn’t so far gone that she would refuse me the comfort she could so readily provide.

Finally, after some interminable amount of time, I pulled away, wiped my nose, and mumbled an apology, adding, “I…I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

Savannah gripped my shoulder and said, “The world is a harsh place, even harsher if we don’t let ourselves deal with loss. Remember that. Emotions don’t make you weak. They make you human.”

I nodded. It was the exact opposite of what I’d been led to believe, but I wasn’t going to argue with her – mostly because I wasn’t entirely sure she was wrong. Sure, Jeremiah might have been made of stone, but that didn’t make it right for me.

“Now,” Savannah said, leaning against the table that served as her desk. “Tell me how you managed to make it all the way here, alone and through monster-infested wilderness.”

“I…uh…I have a skill…”

“And what is it called?” she asked. “I feel that you’ve only got the one.”

I nodded again, giving a sniffle that I wasn’t sure was real or feigned. In any case, I said, “It’s called [Hunting]. My pa gave it to me, and he taught me how to use it.  It comes with Tracking, Camouflage, and Archery.”

“Three abilities for one skill? That’s powerful,” Savannah said appreciatively. I wondered what she’d think if she knew how many benefits I got from [Combat Utility]. Perhaps that skill was even stronger than I’d previously suspected, given that it gave me eight useful abilities.

“Pa said it was,” I stated. “It…i-it saved my life.”

“It likely did,” Savannah agreed. “And I think it will continue to do so.”

“What? How?” I asked.

“How much do you know about Bayou La Batre?”

I shrugged. “Not much,” I said. “Just that you catch shrimp.”

The older woman gave a hearty laugh. “That’s true enough,” she acknowledged. “But it’s not the whole story. Shrimp is valuable. So valuable that we can’t always afford to eat it, you understand. As such, we send gathering teams out every day. They pick mushrooms and such, but every day, they have to go further and further. There are seven-hundred people living in this village. Seven-hundred mouths to feed. We always need more food.”

“Oh,” I said, some of the pieces falling into place. I had wondered why a village with such a prominent food source as the ocean – and the skill to extract such a bounty – had quotas on gatherers like Sadie’s family. Moreover, it explained what was happening with the boats that had been constantly coming and going. Finally, it told me why she had sent the Bayou Boys to that farm.

My only real question was why Savannah was telling me. Was it all common knowledge within the village? Was my acting prowess really so impressive that she’d been put off her guard? Or did she find me so unthreatening that she didn’t care what I knew? All good questions, but I suspected that I wouldn’t soon get the answers.

“Which is where you come in,” said Savannah.

“What can I do?” I wondered, though, given my backstory, I suspected the answer.

“You’re a hunter,” she said. “I want you to hunt.”

“Uh…I don’t have any equipment,” I lied. Savannah had no idea that I had a top-grade Arsenal Implant at my disposal, so she had no reason to suspect that I was armed to the teeth with powerful weaponry. In less than a second, I could draw one of my weapons and end the threat, right then and there.

But then what?

Not only would I have to escape under fire, but I was wary of unintended consequences. More than once, I’d acted without thinking things through, and because of my actions, people had died. First, those innocent bystanders back in Nova City who’d been killed by the Enforcers because they’d had the misfortune of being in the vicinity when the Enforcers had responded to the explosions I’d set off as a distraction. Then, the gang member I’d killed while infiltrating the Tigers’ compound. The latter had probably deserved it, but I still regretted that I’d had to kill him.

It was one thing to choose to take another life, but it was another thing entirely to be forced into it by bad decisions and hasty, ill-thought-out actions. It was something I was focused on avoiding; the stakes were too high for my attitude to be otherwise. Killing was sometimes necessary. I knew that. But treating life like it didn’t matter at all? There was a balance to be struck between doing what was necessary and still valuing human life. Too far one way, and I’d become an unrepentant monster. Too far in the opposite direction, and I would end up either enslaved or dead. With my power – and I was growing stronger by the day – I had the burden of responsibility weighing down on me.

“That’s okay,” came a voice from behind me. I’d never even heard anyone approach, which was quite a feat, considering that I’d been training to avoid just that sort of thing. I turned to see a slim, yet muscular woman standing behind me. Her skin tone was a little darker than mine, and she had similar hair, which she’d arranged into a multitude of neat braids. Her features were broad and expressive, which made me immediately predisposed to liking her. A trap, I was sure. Given her silent approach, she had to have had a skill active, which made her dangerous. “I’ll get you geared up.”

“Uh…who are you?” I asked.

“Erica’s our chief hunter,” said Savanna. “She’s like a daughter to me.”

“Don’t lump me in with those good-for-nothing sons you’ve got roaming around,” Erica said with a grin. Then, noticing Savannah’s tight frown, she added, “Sorry. Forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“Never mind that,” Savanna said, her voice losing all pretense at friendliness. “It doesn’t concern you. Erica, this is…”

“Mirabelle,” I said, not even realizing that I’d given my whole first name, as opposed to the abbreviated version I usually preferred. When I did realize it, I almost slapped my forehead in irritation. The problem was that Savannah, in a lot of ways, reminded me of Jeremiah. She had that same air of authority hovering about her, and I must have made the subconscious connection.

“Mirabelle. Pretty name,” the older woman said. “Mirabelle, this is Erica. She’s going to show you the ropes and get you started doing something to help the town out. You okay with that?”

I nodded, recognizing that, if I was a hunter, I’d have an excuse to come and go as I pleased. That was valuable for when I finally made my move and needed a quick escape.

“Good, good,” said a beaming Savannah. “That’s very good. I hope you can be a productive member of our little town.”

That was when I realized that, at some point, Sue had disappeared. Not that I minded overmuch – I wasn’t really attached to the old woman – but I’d have liked to have had the opportunity to thank her. Still, it was a small town, and I was sure I’d get the chance eventually. In any case, after the introduction, it wasn’t long before Savannah shooed us from her office, and Erica led me out of the building, down the village’s main road, and to a house near the outskirts. Once there, we went inside, where she armed me with a rudimentary bow, a quiver containing five arrows, and a spear that was at least twice as long as I was tall.

Inspecting the giant weapon, I saw that it was made entirely of metal, which meant that it was extremely heavy. Not a problem, with my constitution attribute, but it would’ve been heavy for the character I was playing. So, I feigned some difficulty with the thing, which brought a laugh from Erica.

She said, “Not your average spear, eh? See those crossbars below the blade? Meant to keep a pig from working its way up the shaft and goring you. You ever do any boar huntin’ back home?”

I shook my head. My education had been expansive, so I was familiar with the concept, but I’d never actually hunted a boar. And if I had, I wouldn’t have used a spear. Instead, I’d have used my rifle, preferably from far enough away that I could get a few shots in while the creature charged. Not that I could say as much to Erica, though.

“We mostly hunted deer,” I said. “With the bow.”

“Arrows won’t do much to a pig,” Erica said. “Hide’s too thick, and they’re too goddamn big. Got to use the spears, which means it’s dangerous. You don’t mind a bit of danger, do you?”

“I…uh…”

She slapped me on the shoulder, then said, “’Course you don’t! The way Sue tells it, you traipsed your way across a dozen miles of monster-infested forest. You probably ain’t scared of nothin’!”

“Yeah. Right,” I said, wishing my story wouldn’t have included such a dangerous trek. I wasn’t particularly scared, but I wasn’t looking forward to facing down a giant boar, either. According to Jorge, even before the Initialization, wild boar could grow to sizes in excess of a thousand pounds, which, coupled with their cantankerous and territorial nature, made them incredibly dangerous. The Mist had made them much worse, doubling or even tripling their size.

She clapped me on the shoulder again and said, “Come on. You tote the spear so I can have my hands free.”

“We’re going now?” I asked.

She looked at me like I was crazy. “Of course! I know you’re all up in your feelings right now, but in my experience, the best thing to do in that situation is to focus on doin’ a job. For us, that means huntin’ something big and tasty. If we can get a boar, that’ll feed half the town for a week, but even if all we get is a deer or somethin’ like that, it’ll be a good day. Now, c’mon. It’s already later than I usually head out.”

With that, she took off, and I had little choice but to follow my would-be mentor, all the while pretending that the spear was nearly too much weight for me to comfortably carry. It was a strange balancing act, and it took quite a bit of concentration. So, it was no surprise that my other abilities seemed to suffer a bit. Notably, as we exited the town and headed into the forest, I felt like I snapped every branch and crinkled every leaf I came upon.

“Sorry,” I muttered when Erica cut her eyes at me. “It’s just that the spear is really heavy.”

Erica narrowed her eyes for along moment before her face softened. “Tier-1?” she said. “Really? I don’t know if I should be impressed or disappointed.”

“Uh…”

“What’s your constitution?”

“Six.”

“Not bad, not bad. No wonder you’re struggling with the spear, though,” she said. With a sigh, she added, “Nothin’ for it but to move on, though.” She glanced up past the canopy of oak trees, squinting at the sun. “Getting later by the minute.”

Then, she resumed her path through the woods. As she did, I tried to mimic her footsteps as best I could with the restriction of the spear weighing me down, and I managed to improve a little with every passing step. It was fake growth – I could have done much better – but walking that tightrope of maintaining my façade while showing improvement was enough to give me a splitting headache. Still, I persisted, and eventually, we found our way to a snare line she’d set the day before. To my surprise, she’d managed to trap a full brace of rabbits, which she said she was keeping to herself, so long as we found bigger game.

“I’ve a weakness for rabbit stew,” she explained. “Little bit of okra, some carrots, and potatoes…mmm. That’s good eatin’. Nothin’ better, as far as I’m concerned.”

I’d never had rabbit stew, but she made it sound pretty amazing. However, I did have a little difficulty connecting the cute, fluffy bunnies to a food source, but such was the difficulty of survival that we couldn’t let such thoughts affect finding our next meal. Still, a part of me wished for the days when all my meals came pre-packaged and ready for the nano-wave. It wasn’t good, per se – more of an acquired taste, if I was honest – but at least it didn’t require me to kill animals that looked like living plushies.

So, it was with somewhat muted enthusiasm that I gathered the rabbits and strung them to hang at my waist. Erica wasn’t affected by my dour mood, though. Instead, she kept her eyes out for anything that might provide enough meat to make a dent in Bayou La Batre’s hunger.

It was about an hour later when that diligence proved insufficient to the task at hand.

A rustle in the nearby brush was all the warning we got before something streaked past Erica. I could only barely see it, the thing moved so fast. And that was with my inflated attributes. Erica, who felt like a Tier-2 or maybe a weak Tier-3, never had a chance to react.

She screamed as the bobcat’s claws raked across her torso, threatening to disembowel her, but I was already moving. I dropped the spear, snatched an arrow from my quiver, and took aim at the feline. It skidded to a stop, giving me a good look. With mottled tawny-and-black fur, the signature stumpy tail of its species, tufted ears, and teeth that gleamed metallic, the cat was more monster than animal. And with a shoulder-height that came up to my waist, it had the size to go with that label as well.

The moment the cat slid to a stop, I let loose with my arrow, which predictably missed by half a foot. I’d been introduced to the weapon, but I’d never really practiced with it. The only reason I got as close as I had was because of my attributes. Still, a miss was a miss, and the shot had gotten the cat’s attention.

It let out a hiss, then darted toward me with enough alacrity that I had only an instant to react. Diving to the side, I rolled to my feet right next to the dropped spear. Throwing caution to the wind, I picked the weapon up, hefted it with one hand, and threw it at the cat. My aim was true, and the spear’s long, broad blade drove into the bobcat’s left flank.

It yowled and tried to pull away, but the spear had lodged against something that held it fast. I ran forward, grabbed the long haft and yanked it free before plunging it forward once again. And again. With each thrust, the bobcat let out a screeching cry, but I pushed it from my mind, focusing only on making the thing dead.

My efforts were soon rewarded when, with a last heave, the creature fell to its side and breathed its last, blood-flecked breath.

The fight had only lasted a minute or two, but the stress of the life-and-death struggle had sapped my energy. As a result, I wanted to fall on my ass, right then and there. However, it only took a few seconds for me to remember Erica. Chastising myself for losing my focus, I turned to find her crumpled on the ground. She was moving, but weakly.

I rushed to her side and knelt beside her.

“Leave me,” she said, coughing blood. Given her wound, that must have been incredibly painful.  “Go! The cat will be back…”

“It’s…it’s dead,” I said. “I killed it. Lucky…uh…stab. Let me see your stomach. I have an ability for emergency wound treatment.”

It was the best I could come up with to explain away my Triage ability. Assuming I could save Erica’s life, my role might raise some eyebrows, but I couldn’t just let her bleed out. Not if I could do something about it.

Against her protests, I looked at the wound. The claws had done a number on her torso, ripping her shirt as well as her flesh apart. However, only one of the claws seemed to have pierced her abdominal wall, which was bad, sure, but it could have been worse. Feigning taking it out of my pocket, I produced a tiny aerosol can that contained a foam bandage, which I applied generously.

“W-what? How?” she asked, obviously recognizing it.

“My…uh…my pa gave it to me,” I lied. “Said it was only for emergencies. This seemed to qualify.”

“R-right…”

Apparently, my story was believable enough, because she didn’t argue. The bandage did its job, anesthesizing and disinfecting the wound as well as closing it up. Soon, Erica had regained her feet, though she did so on wobbly legs. Her eyes immediately found the slain cat.

“That…that’s…how?”

“I’m a hunter,” I said. “I stabbed it.”

“We need to get it back to town,” she said, skating past my thin story. Of course, I had a lot on my side, chiefly that I’d saved her life. She didn’t seem too keen to question me about how I’d accomplished that feat. “That cat will feed…it must be seven-hundred pounds.”

“How?” I asked.

She sighed. “I presume you know how to butcher an animal?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Well, get to work, then,” Erica said. “I’ll help however I can, but…”

“No, I’ve got this,” I said. “Just try not to move too much. I don’t know how well that bandage will hold.”

“Fair enough,” she said, collapsing against a tree. I hoped that she was better off than she looked, and I wished that she would just head back to town. But I could also tell from her expression that any suggestion to do just that would be met with refusal. That, more than anything, told me the state of Bayou La Batre. Soon, I would put all the pieces together.

But for now, I had a cat to butcher. After borrowing Erica’s hunting knife, I got down to the business at hand.