Chapter Sixty-Six: Buckeroo (Patreon)

I’m not in the best of positions, leaning back on my hands with a crocodile look-alike half on top of me. It’s heavy but I’ve got the advantage on land. Remembering a nature program at home and hoping that this analogue’s physiology is at least similar, I clamp my arm around its mouth, holding its head to me firmly.

The crocodile writhes but it appears that it’s no more able to open its jaws with me putting pressure on them than an Earth crocodile would be able to. I’d seen on the program that crocodiles have the strongest bite pressure ever measured, but for all their power when closing their jaws, they have extremely weak opening muscles. That’s being proven as I have to exert far more strength to keep my attacker from wriggling out of my grip than I do in just keeping its mouth closed.

Wrestling with the muscular body that’s got to be at least as long as me, I manage to flip us so I’m lying on the crocodile which is pinned on its back. Still holding its mouth shut with one hand, while riding the crocodile’s belly, I grab my knife from my belt and slam it into the reptile’s throat.

At least, I try to. What actually happens is that the knife is deflected and I almost lose my grip on my blade, even head-butting the crocodile on the underside of its jaw in a stunning display of grace. Shaking my head in confusion as I’m momentarily stunned, the renewed powerful writhing of the creature below me almost knocks me off completely. I manage to keep my seat from luck more than skill, even as its fore-claws tear at me. Fortunately, tucked into its armpits as my knees are, I’m actually in a reasonably secure position which is out of reach of its tail and back claws, and also can pin it down reasonably well. Without my increase in Strength, I’d have had no chance; with it, I’m managing – just.

But just managing is not enough. I need to either kill this thing or escape. If even its underside is so armoured that my knife can’t get through, I need a different strategy. A thought occurs and I squeeze my eyes shut and gulp, fear running through me like a live current. If I do this right, I have a chance. If I do it wrong… But do I have any choice? Right now it’s a stalemate, and the crocodile probably has more stamina than me.

I breathe deeply, trying to summon up my courage to go through with my plan. Then, in one quick movement, I shift my weight off the crocodile and onto my feet, grabbing one of the crocodile’s short front legs and heaving it over.

Aided by its own muscular movements, the crocodile flips onto its belly and I quickly seat myself back on its back, tucked behind its front legs. It writhes again, twisting its body almost in half as it attempts to snap at me. Fortunately, in this position, I’m out of range of its jaws. That doesn’t mean I’m home safe as I’m rather riding the tiger at this point. Or, at least, riding the crocodile.

My targets – and only hope – are now within range, but I have no chance of getting at them right now since I’m gripping on with dear life to try to avoid being thrown off my insecure position. I have a death-grip on both the crocodile and my knife, holding on grimly as the crocodile slowly tires itself out.

I see my stamina bar emptying itself little by little, and I start praying to anyone who can hear that the crocodile will exhaust itself before the bar runs out. For a while, I start fearing the worst and try to make back up plans of how I will escape if my stamina drops to less than ten percent. Finally, though, the crocodile’s movements start to slow. I breathe a silent sigh of relief, but continue clinging on even as the creature’s efforts to throw me off reduce in strength.

Eventually, the crocodile stops moving. I’ve already started to shift a little, moving my weight more forwards, changing the grip on my knife. I’ve got no chance of killing this monster in a single stroke, so I’m going to have to do my best to at least disable it so I can get away.

Leaning up, I’m poised to strike when it suddenly shifts and I lose my balance. Worried that it’s recovered enough to start another exhausting buckaroo, I stab wildly at my target. Luck, or my increased Dexterity, actually means that I hit the crocodile’s eye despite the movement. My knife plunges straight into the golden slit-pupil orb and the crocodile lets out a roar of pain, the first noise it’s made so far.

Its movements become frenzied, but I know that I don’t have the stamina to hold on for another round of writhing, so I just steady myself as much as I can and desperately aim for its other eye. My first two attempts fail and I’m almost sobbing as I try once more, knowing that I haven’t got a chance of surviving without blinding the creature. I have to succeed, even when my every movement feels like leaden weights are attached to my limbs.

Third time’s the charm, apparently, as once more I manage to pierce the gelatinous ball that is this dinosaur’s eye. It roars again and throws its head up. The abrupt movement forces the knife blade upwards, and since I refuse to let go of the handle, I’m pushed up with it. Since I’m not as well-secured on the crocodile’s back as I had been, I’m dislodged enough that the next frenzied twist sends me falling off completely.

Scrambling to my hands and knees, I crawl as quickly as I can away from the creature, not daring to even spend the time to push myself to my feet until I’m out of direct range of those jaws. Clambering to my feet, I don’t see the tail coming at me until it’s too late to dodge completely. Throwing myself out the way, I shield my head with my arm.

The tail smashes into my arm with a loud crack, barely slowed. I would have died then and there if it hadn’t also been slightly deflected, slamming into the ground a hair’s breadth from my head. Shaking terribly, I push myself backwards and almost crab-walk away, sobbing with fear under my breath.

When my back hits a tree trunk, I find I can’t go any further. I’m done. If the crocodile manages to find me here, it’s the end of the road for me. I lay there for an indeterminate time. It could have been seconds; it could have been hours. It was probably a few minutes, but I’m completely spaced out, staring numbly at the prehistoric killer which continues to thrash, letting out roars of pain or rage.

The pain in my arm is what brings me back to reality and I wince as I shift it forwards. I realise the cause before I even see it: I once broke my leg and it was the same sickening, throbbing pain.

The bone is sticking through my skin and my shirt sleeve is soaked in blood. Now out of my fugue, I see that my health points are dropping with alarming speed. At this rate, I’ll bleed out in a few minutes. The realisation is enough to bring the world back into full clarity, and with it, the fear. So much for not meetings something I can’t handle, I think to myself bitterly. I should have brought Bastet with me. Though what she could do against a crocodile, I don’t know. She’s smaller than a lion and even lions avoid crocodiles. On Earth, at least. Kalanthia would probably eat this for breakfast.

I dart another look at the crocodile, but my blinding seems to have worked: it’s not coming at me. In fact, it appears to be randomly wandering, bashing into trees and bushes, rubbing its eyes one at a time onto the tree trunk as if it thinks it’s got something in them. I’d feel sorry but...it broke my arm.

On that note, I cast a Lay-on-hands, the healing spell helping to slow the blood-loss. Unfortunately, it only takes a few casts of the spell to realise that there’s a problem, one I should have anticipated: it can’t heal my arm with the bone sticking out like it is.

I feel panicky, nauseous, cold sweat breaking out on my skin. An inner monologue of denial runs through me. I steel myself. If I don’t do this, I’ll probably lose the arm, I tell myself firmly. Then, gripping my forearm behind my wrist, I pull.

With a sickening and agonising glide, the bone shifts and then withdraws under the skin. I don’t dare look at it for fear of triggering a vomiting session, instead focusing on casting Lay-on-hands and directing the magic to wrap around the bone and rejoin it. I keep going with my channeled healing until my mana bar is almost empty. Then I gently let go and hope that I’ve done enough to stop it from immediately breaking once more under the strain of muscles and tendons.

My arm throbs, but it stays in one piece. I sit there staring at it for a moment before my stomach finally rebels. I manage to twist to the side so I’m not emptying my lunch all over my legs, but that’s all I can do about it.

By the time I’ve stopped vomiting, I’m feeling weak and shaky again. Even worse, something about it has caught the attention of the crocodile. I don’t know if it’s the noise or the smell, but the massive killer-croc is making a slow, cautious line straight towards me.

Hell no. I’m not going for round two with this monster, not with my arm still tender and the smell of my vomit still in my nose. At the same time, I don’t want to run – I don’t like leaving creatures which have almost killed me at my back. Plus, since discovering that even its thinnest skin is enough to turn my knife blade, I’m rather eager to see what kind of armour I could make out of its scales – with that on my limbs and the chitin on my chest, I’ll be significantly better off.

No point going toe to toe with it, though. A swipe from its tail that wasn’t even a direct hit broke my arm and could have broken my skull too. No, I need to be more cunning than that. And as I scan the area around me, even as I cautiously shift away from the puddle of vomit, I reckon I’ve found a way.

Using my most stealthy approach – still regenerating stamina, so not wanting to use Fade – I pad almost silently over to a number of boulders. These are a bit incongruous in the area, looking like they’ve been carried down by a flood at some point. Either that or there are stone giants here and they’ve been having some throwing competitions.

As I head towards them, a forest-coloured blur flies past me and is on the crocodile before it can react. For a moment, I don’t know what’s happening, but a touch to my Bonds and I understand: Bastet’s here. I look around wildly but don’t see any cubs. I hope that means that she’s left them with Kalanthia.

My Bound obviously felt the danger to me and came running, crossing the distance far faster than I had. Unfortunately, as I’d predicted, she’s having little effect on the crocodile thanks to its armoured skin. She does manage to get at its throat a couple of times and is surprisingly more effective than my knife. Still, it’s not sustainable: if those jaws or that tail gets her even once, she’s going to take serious damage. I hurry up with my task, still feeling like it has the best chance of succeeding.

The first two boulders I try to lift are simply too big: I can barely shift them, let alone lift them. The third moves more easily, but I still can’t pick it up. The fourth, however, which is just over half the size of the first two, I’m able to lift a little off the ground, my good arm doing most of the work. Shoving it in my Inventory, I move back over to the thrashing crocodile.

“Bastet, back up,” I tell her sharply. She does and we both wait patiently as the crocodile continues flailing around at nothing. Slowly, its movements slow as it registers that it is neither hitting something, nor under attack. It next starts sniffing around, moving its head to one side, then the other, moving around the area but not leaving it. I realise that it must think that it killed or injured its opponent and is now looking for the body. Not going to happen.

Engaging Fade, I start stepping forwards slowly. When I’m an arm’s length away from the crocodile’s head, I pray once more that it won’t suddenly notice me despite its blinded state and my attempts at concealment. Then, opening my Inventory, I pull out the rock...and let it drop.