Death Smith - Book 1 - Chapter 3

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Bloody companions

Seven months ago.

August, 13 AR.

Inside Rift 1.

With a loud crash, the monster was in the room with them. As it rose to its full height, it let out a low growl. Three claws on each of its hands were hitting one another, producing a menacing ‘clicking’ sound. Blueish tinted scales covered its body in a tight pattern. Its full size reached that of a teenager. It scanned the room with its yellow eyes, taking in the humans and the state of the room, searching for something.

Finally, its eyes narrowed in on Lance, yet darted towards Rachel when she screamed loudly. “Get it away! Lance! Get it away!”

The stunned Lance could only sit there, back pressed against the wall as his mind went numb at what had just happened. Somewhere within his mind, he had already put two and two together after having seen the outside yet knowing and accepting were two different things.

Before Lance even reacted, the monster had already made its move, pouncing on Rachel on the other side of the room. Like some sort of feral creature, it slashed and bit into her without so much as a warning. Its attacks weren’t that of a predator going for the kill, rather something that took pleasure in instilling pain upon its victims. Rachel’s screams had turned into grotesque gurgling sounds due to inflicted injuries and her drowning in her own blood.

“No! Get off her!” Lance yelled, finally taking control of himself as he rushed up and charged at the monster, grabbing one of its arms and pulling with all his might.

‘What the hell?’ That was his first thought. He tried pulling at the monster’s arm, yet barely could restrain one of its arms. Despite its smaller size, it was stronger than Lance, who would otherwise tower over the monster in terms of size.

The monster simply shook Lance off its arm, slamming him into the wall as it continued to eat Rachel alive. Lance had tried a second time, slamming a chain onto the monster’s back, only for the monster to shrug it off. Afterwards, it had sent Lance back a few paces after hitting him in the stomach with its strong tail.

Lance, bruised and battered, had barely enough strength to get up the third time. Wanting to make another effort at stopping the monster, he noticed Rachel’s empty stare and the injuries she had sustained already. Much of her neck was missing and her torso had turned into a mess of scarlet. He realized she was already dead or would be in a matter of seconds. ‘If I stay here, I’ll end up like Rachel,’ Lance though as fear gripped his heart, overwhelming his shame and any hesitation at leaving her.

That meant that he only had a small window of time before the monster would realize the same thing and would shift his focus towards Lance.

“I’m sorry! So sorry, Rachel!” Lance shouted as he rushed past the monster and the body of Rachel, grabbing his backpack, and kicking the door open. He threw himself through it and came to a coming to a rolling stop as he clutched his backpack against his chest.

* * * * *

What had felt like hours had only been twenty minutes as Lance rushed from one place to another. Everywhere he looked, he saw blood and gore. People, both employees and patients alike, torn apart or were being feasted upon. It had sickened him to the core, with his fragile mind barely able to keep himself functioning, repressing his need to throw up or fall into a daze that would leave him helpless.

Lance had seen the occasional slain monster impaled by makeshift weapons. Usually, they lay surrounded by multiple human corpses. He had spotted other survivors, holed up in rooms that they had barricaded, yet they would not let him inside and were barely registering his pleas for help. Most of them looked as broken as he felt.

He had nearly died three times already. Twice he had run into monsters, having to lose them as he fled to a higher or lower floor. The only thing that had saved him in that situation was the fact that he knew the layout better than the monsters did.

The third time was when he rushed into a room, thinking it would lead him to a secure office, only to nearly fallen to his death because of the building suddenly ending there. It appeared to be as if something had cut out a portion of the building and transported it elsewhere. Seeing the unnatural landscape on the other side, it again forced Lance to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t on earth anymore. In that moment, he had allowed himself to weep silently for a minute before he moved onwards, fearful that staying in one place too long would mean his death. ‘This is hell,’ Lance thought, slowly realising that it was only a matter of time before he died.

He was about to check out a floor above this one when he ran into other survivors, with both sides shouting and nearly kicking against one another, when they suddenly came to face to face.

“I nearly had a heart attack,” Lance whispered to the other survivors, including co-workers. One of them was Thomas, who had been on a different floor when it had all started. Lance’s hands instinctively grabbed Thomas’s sleeve, desperate to cling to something familiar.

“Are there any other survivors with you?” Thomas asked, leaning closer to Lance and checking out the state he was. His gaze shifted towards finding any wounds.

“N- no,” Lance said, his voice fragile suddenly.

“Are you sure? We could check room by room,” Thomas said, carefully choosing his words, wondering what horrors Lance might have witnessed on his own.

“I said no!” Lance spat out finally, remembering the horde of monsters that had overrun the place. He could still vividly recall the horrible way in which one of them had butchered Rachel. ‘I let her die! I let it rip into her!’ Lance thought, his eyes widening before he suppressed the thought, focusing his gaze on Thomas and the others.

Thomas did not press the issue further, seeing the horrified look on Lance’s features. “All right, what about the Rifters? The last time I checked, Mr Kühn wasn’t in the hospital anymore. Did Mr Wells make it out?” Thomas asked Lance, steering the conversation to hopefully more optimistic prospects.

“I am not sure. The whole place was a mess. Large chunks of the building simply weren’t there, including the room he was in. Some parts have collapsed or are inaccessible. Perhaps he made it? I hope so,” Lance replied to Thomas before he grabbed his backpack tightly with one hand as if finding comfort in there. Lance had scavenged some supplies when he had felt safe and placed them in his pack. His unsteady mind had still realised food, water, and medicine would be vital.

“All right, we need to get you equipped and calm. You’ll stay in the centre until you find yourself again, all right?” Thomas suggested, although it was more like a command.

“Thomas, I am fine. Honestl-” Lance started, before Thomas cut him off.

“Bullshit. You are as pale as a ghost, covered in blood, and look as if you are an inch away from a heart attack. Collect yourself before you help others. Remember?” Thomas said, reminding Lance of medical protocol to help in emergencies.

Lance nodded slowly at that before joining the group properly, feeling hands pat his shoulders for surviving this long on his own. He wasn’t sure if it was the warm human contact or the shame, he felt for being complimented while having let Rachel die so brutally. In the end, it would matter little, seeing as the tears simply would not stop flowing.

* * * * *

“Hold them back!” Thomas shouted, instructing the group of survivors to keep pushing against the barricade. Seventeen souls, including Thomas, were now trapped in the pharmacy section of the hospital, and were using tables, cabinets, and other heavy objects to keep a monstrous horde at bay. The room was quite secure, having a thick security door and reinforced glass on the sides to prevent thieves from breaking in. With monsters, it proved quite effective as well, although holes had formed in some sections.

“Stakes on the west side. And where are those chemicals!” Thomas ordered, his voice carrying both fear and the weight of command.

“On it… “

“Nearly done.”

The group had broken down IV-poles, brooms, and crutches, turning them into improvised spears or hooks to pin down monsters at a distance. Others had equipped themselves with sheets and thick metal rods.

At close range, the monsters would win, yet in numbers and using tools to keep them at bay or trap them, the group had a chance. They had already killed several of the monsters. Now the survivors found themselves pinned down in this room. On the other side, monsters were franticly slamming into the door or attacking the windows, desperate to get their claws on their prey. From what the survivors could see, there must have been more than a dozen of these monsters out there.

“Ready with the next batch!” Thomas commanded, seeing the monsters slowly advance in one area. “Steve, Lance, get ready to throw it. Three… Two… One…”

Like a drill sergeant, Thomas ordered the group to ease their strength on the door and crack it open a bit. This allowed Lance and Steve to pour the corrosive chemicals through the gap onto the monster’s, getting it on their faces. They had done so a few times already, irritating the monsters when they stepped into the puddles, or even throwing it on them. It wasn’t enough to kill them. But it blinded them, or at the very least wounded them.

Still, they had been at it for an hour already and the monsters simply kept hammering again, and again. The survivors showed signs of fatigue, injuries, and most of them were at the point where they might break down mentally.

“Get the spray ready,” Thomas said, pointing at a woman on his right. “Jack, you are bleeding. Patch yourself up.” A second passed, but the man barely seemed to register Thomas’s command. “Jack! Get the hell back and patch yourself up!” The man simply stared at the door, fixated on the monstrous wave on the other side.

“Lance! Grab Jack,” Thomas asked Lance as he slammed a sharpened pole through another gap in the window, aiming at eyes or mouths of any monster. The makeshift spears might not be strong enough to pierce the scales, yet their eyes and mouth were weak points.

“Jack, come on. Let’s get those wounds checked out,” Lance said, nudging the man away from the door and letting another survivor step in to keep up the defence. After checking him out, Lance noticed the wounds were shallow and not life-threatening. Some would require stitching later, but for now, a tight bandage to keep the pressure on it would be enough.

“I am good... I can go on.” Jack said, his eyes wide and unfocused.

“I know you can, Jack. But I still need you to eat something and drink some water, all right?” Lance said calmly, forcing his tone to be as reassuring as he could.

“Bu-”

“Food and water first. We need you here for the long run. We need you, Jack,” Lance said, steering Jack’s shaken mind into an obvious goal. The man snapped out of his battle addled mind and nodded, grabbing the water bottle and Mars bar Lance held out in his hands.

“A… alright. I’ll be back soon,” The man said as Lance walked away from him and took up his position near the door, pressing against it with his full weight, allowing Thomas to step back again and observe the scene.

‘Thomas is skilled at this. Is it his background in sports, or something more instinctive?’ Lance thought as he watched Thomas. The man was making his rounds again, boosting morale by motivating them or just standing side by side to show support. Thomas wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long, nor could any of them. For now, they had at least a fighting chance.

‘The worst part is the fear of the unknown. Are Rifters even coming from the outside to save us, and when will they arrive?’ Lance mused internally. From what he had read online, an Initial Rift, such as what they were in now, was still stable. It meant that Rifters could still enter it. Once they entered, there would be a small window before the Rift became unstable and no further entry could happen until they were victorious or were all killed.

‘It could be hours, or it could be days before someone would come and help us. Hell, time could even pass differently inside a Rift. Who knows how long the monsters might trap us here,’ Lance thought, feeling a sliver of fear creep into his being before he caught himself doing so and focused on his task; Keeping the door closed!

* * * * *

“Keep that barricade up!” Thomas ordered, using a steel pipe to slam into the claws of a monster that tried to climb over the large steel table that was being pressed against the nearly destroyed window. The table showed dents in a dozen places, and monsters had torn out a sizeable chunk of it because of their constant abuse.

“Hold!” Thomas screamed at the group, seeing the table slowly being pushed back until the monsters finally forced the defenders beyond the point of exhaustion. With a large clang, the table fell, and a few monsters rushed in.

Lance, holding a lighter and an air freshener spray, used them to create a burst of fire, engulfing the entrance and blocking out the rest of the horde. The spray would only have a few minutes or even seconds before it would run out, not to mention the risk of it blowing up and harming Lance and the others. Still, it was the only way they could keep the rest of them out. Already three had slipped in during the commotion and were rushing for some survivors.

“Sheets and spears!” Thomas ordered franticly.

“There are too many of them!

“Where are those sheets!” Thomas commanded, waiting for the rest to spring into action. Already several survivors had gotten hurt in the frenzy. Eventually, the survivors had pinned down two of the monsters while the last one rushed across the floor, slashing at exposed arms and legs.

“Thomas!” Lance screamed as he nodded, signalling that he had an idea. He tensed his muscles and waited for the rest to join in. Thomas seemed to understand what Lance was trying to do as Thomas grabbed the table and roared at another survivor to help him block the hole up again.

The second they did so, Lance diverted the flame away from the table and towards the two trapped monsters. In an instant, Lance had set the monsters on fire, the hospital sheets forcing the fire to spread rapidly and engulf the monsters.

‘Die… just die… just die,’ Lance thought repeatedly, hoping that it would be successful. The flames quickly spread, and soon, the ensnared monsters hissed because of the scorching flame. Thick patches of smoke had formed, while the scent of burning flesh lingered densely in the air.

The act itself meant that fewer people had to contend with the two monsters, allowing more survivors to help to strengthen the barricade that Thomas was trying to rebuild or hunt for the remaining enemy in the room.

Still, this was their last canister. They had already used all the other chemicals and corrosives. It was only a matter of time before the monsters truly overran them with no chance of recovering and reforming their defences. “Thomas, that was the last one,” Lance said, informing his friend quickly.

“I did not want to hear that, Lance,” was Thomas’s remark as the two of them fought to keep the monsters outside.

* * * * *

The Rifters crept forwards, gripping their chosen weapons tightly while signalling the people behind them to keep quiet and remain there.

They had been busy the last few hours, slowly clearing floor by floor and rescuing those that they could. It was hard work, even for them, to both kill the monsters and protect the survivors.

“I think there are about seven in total?” Daniel asked, sharing his thoughts with Dieter.

“Nein, eight,” Dieter replied, focusing on his bond with his hound and sharing the sensory information that the Rift-Hound gave back. It was almost as if he could smell each of the monsters and make out distinct differences between them.

Both Dieter and Daniel had plenty of Rift experience between the two of them. Usually, they worked with at least a group of six to eight other people, if not more. For them to end up in an Initial Rift like this one was extremely rare and dangerous, but it also offered the survivors a chance to make it out alive. Two Rifters on their side would no doubt save more of the survivors, but it also meant that the Rifters were on their own for now. A Rift response team could arrive within a few hours, or it could be weeks.

“One,” Daniel whispered.

Dieter gripped his mace firmly as he continued the count. “Zwei.”

“Three,” They whispered in unison as they moved closer. It was strange to see the two in action, working so closely together. When Dieter spoke to other survivors, he’d speak to them in English, albeit with a thick German accent. When the Rifters spoke with one another, it was as if Daniel could understand him perfectly fine in German. Either it was because of Daniel having learned the language, or there was something else at play here.

Still, these things did not matter to any of the survivors when Daniel suddenly sped forwards with Dieter, both holding their weapons out in an offensive grip while the first of several throwing daggers flew out of Daniel’s hand towards the monsters.

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Author: Osirium

Copyright: 2021 OsiriumWrites

Released: 2021