Chapter 15

Slate

The outskirts of Fairfax were one of a few low population areas left near Cincinnati. There were only a few houses in the area, and they were surrounded by several square miles of farmland. It was perfect for someone who wanted to have all the benefits of living near a big city and still wanted to live in the country. Inside the village itself, there was enough land that the houses were not all cramped together. Small and rural enough to give off that Mayberry like feel, the town was just a touch more modern. As you head towards The Nati, the land became covered with clustered suburbs, housing developments and apartment complexes. So while there were only a few thousand people who used to live near my present position, I would have to pass through an area where close to a hundred thousand souls had lived in order to reach the store.

Following the highway seemed best, since it bypassed some of the more dense population areas. The rest of the way would require more stealth as I neared the city proper. It was idiotic to be looking for more conflict, but I was hoping for some easy monsters to kill along the road in order to grind some levels. The need to get stronger is almost palpable. I was far better prepared for combat this time around and ready to use my fork of doom on any deviant domestic animals or giant field mice. I was prepared survive in this world, and leveling up would help me secure my place in it.

I quickly found my pace. Walking seemed too slow and I was unable to focus on the surroundings at a run, but a slow jog seemed just right. The five or so miles to the store would quickly pass within the hour at the 6 mile per hour slow jog. Wisps of hazy smoke trailed into the sky from the direction of Fairfax. They were just the right size to have belonged to a cooking fire, but I ignored the possible sign of human life because it was in the wrong direction. I would return to the village at some point, but I wanted better gear first. Traveling the side roads to the main highway passed without hardship. Broken down vehicles littered the road, abandoned with doors and trucks ajar by their owners. Glancing into these as I passed revealed nothing except the occasional blood stain. Pieces of dropped luggage that left a trail the west and a drunk Indian could follow. Everything spoke of people fleeing the city for their lives, whether from the mutant humans, monsters or out of just plain fear I did not know.

The wreckage became far more frequent as I reached the main road. In most movies with world ending events, be it an earthquake or an alien invasion, there are usually scenes of vehicles left stranded on the road. Cars and trucks would be wrecked or abandoned just like this because of people trying to flee said danger. The movie scripts had been right about that part of an apocalypse. They were everywhere. Far more were in the eastbound lanes headed away from the city than on the west side. There were also dead people, and lots of them. They seemed to be everywhere I looked, but in reality there was really only one every couple of cars. Some corpses were just sitting behind the wheel, but most were crumpled in the road or off to the side in the grass. Most appeared to have been partially devoured, but remaining rotting flesh did not speak of anything recent.

I had mentally prepared myself for all the dead people and knew that seeing them would not stop any time soon, but the smell, it was just awful. The rotting corpses had not moved me at all, but the stench had me retching again. Fuck man, I think my senses must have been dialed up when my Body attribute leveled. I had to stop to tie a rag around my face. The weak attempt at keeping the putrid reek away worked somewhat, but it seemed more mental than physical. There was nothing to do but continue on, and hope I got used to it.

A half mile later there was motion in the back of an old four door Ford Taurus. The vehicle was in the slow lane and looked to have a flat tire, but was in good condition otherwise. The rear doors were open and someone was bent over digging around in the backseat. Due to its small stature my first thought was that it was a child. I was approaching to see if I could help when it backed out of the car. It stood up facing away from me and was noticeably not human. Spindly arms and knobby legs that seemed far too long its body jutted from an tiny emaciated torso. If it had been human, I would have told that fucker to eat some cheeseburgers or something, but since it wasn’t I only stared in stunned silence.

A crusty loincloth was its only piece of attire. Small flakes of brown stained nastiness flaked off of the poorly tanned leather as it hopped around and fiddled with something in its hands. Its stringy black hair went halfway down its back, but what stood out most was the unhealthy dark green color of its skin. Bits of bone tied into its hair as decorations rattled as it twitched back and forth and the noise snapped me out of my stupor. Even though this thing was pretty disgusting, I did not want to kill a possibly sentient creature without cause. I needed to stay relatively safe though, so I snuck closer before attempting to communicate with it. The smell of unwashed ass temporarily overwhelmed the constant odor of rot in the air as I closed within twenty feet. My olfactory senses decided that was plenty close and I debated on how to get its attention.

I went with my standard and said “Howdy.”

Don’t get me wrong, hello is fine for a salutation, but it just seems over used. Sayings like “What’s up?” or “How are you?” were never my bag of tea. I just did not want to feel obligated to actually listen if someone answered the question with sincerity. Hell, I have a problem with small talk in general, the uselessness of it offends me for some reason, but I did not want one of my many personal issues to fuck up my first meeting with another species.

I smiled a little bit when the startled little thing jumped about two feet in the air at the noise. It quickly turned to face me. A children’s lunch box fell from its shriveled hands, and it bent to snatch up a three foot stick off the ground. The slightly bent wood had a pointed rock tied to one end and looked to be some sort of primitive spear. It froze briefly in shock, looking at the pitiful spear and then back to me as if wondering how effective the weapon would be against my massive frame. Its large eyes twitched over a beak like noise and tube like ears that seemed to stick straight out of its head. It pulled thin, slightly blackened lips back to bare tiny shark like teeth at me in what looked to be a snarl. It froze like that, so I went on to state the obvious.

“Holy Jebus, you’re a mother-trucking goblin aren’t you?” It would be rude to curse someone you just met, but I just could not help a modified explicative of some sort.

My words must have been taken the wrong way because it screamed, more of a squawk really, and threw its spear at me before darting away. The pitchfork had been held loosely in my hand at the time. I thought the distance was far enough that there was plenty of time to stop a charge if needed, but I had been caught flat footed when it launched a projectile. I tried to dodge but the shoddy spear still hit my right shoulder and sunk in about two inches before falling out.

Due to its scrawny little body I had not given this encounter as much respect as it deserved. Even being angry at the little wound rather than dying with a spear in my throat did not leave me any happier with the encounter. It left me feeling enraged. What the fuck was that little thing thinking attacking me? Did it not know who I was? I guess the legend of my rat killing prowess had not made it this far yet.

Besides in most RPGs goblins were an integral part of the leveling process. They were generally low level monsters who were only dangerous if too many of them swarmed you at once. This thing had to know it was just gratuitous experience for any adventurer, like me, who walked by. I even gave it a chance to live by talking to it. Of course, fleeing mobs that were not caught before they got to their friends would almost always would cause a party to wipe. Without even the luxury of a group to back me up, I knew he had to be caught and dealt with immediately.

The short decision making process had only taken a moment and I snatched the rickety spear off the ground. Roaring, I took a crow hop and chucked it at the goblin who was now about 50 feet away. The throw was significantly harder and faster than my opponent’s had been, but the shitty little spear was not aerodynamic and it was my first time throwing one. It twisted in the air and whacked the little greenie in the back with the length of its shaft. It caused a small stumble, but he just looked over his shoulder and sped up. He soon drove off the road and into a wooded area separating the highway from a street of middle income houses.

I started sprinting after him and was gaining on him until he hit the brush line. Where the goblin slithered through the thorns and brambles like a snake, I stumbled through like a bull in a china shop. The sharp points caught my skin and clothing causing numerous small cuts and rips. He broke free of the foliage first and headed towards one of the houses screaming the whole time. It slipped and fell to the ground as it tried to hop a chain length fence surrounding the backyard of a two story split level. I focused some Ki into my legs and made a lunge, covering the 15 foot gap between us in an instant. The tines of the fork skewered him through the torso and exited out the front of its boney little chest. Its cry turned into a gurgle as I pinned him to the ground. A stomp on the back of his neck followed by a sharp crunch ended the disgusting thing’s existence.

Breathing a sigh of relief at catching him, I looked at his corpse for anything of value. Yup, still a dirty, stinking, dead green thing in its poo stained underwear. It had a greasy pouch tied to its waist that I cut open after debating if it was worth touching. It had what looked like some flint, a few pieces of string and a brightly colored rock inside. The japtem wasn’t even worth picking up. Disgusted with the whole thing I stood up from a squat and checked my shoulder. The wound was bleeding down my shirt and reached the top of my jeans. The red coloring matched the multitude of bloody scratches I had received after running full blast through the briars. The smaller cuts were already sealing but my shoulder continued to leak steadily.

Cursing my inability to avoid damage, I took my backpack off to get some of my makeshift bandages out. Before I could open the bag, the back door of the house smashed open. Several sets of red beady eyes peered out of the darkness seconds before a deluge of goblins poured into the yard.

The little green creatures did not have much variety in clothing or general hygiene. They were sticking to the whole smell like butthole while wearing a loincloth theme, but did at least have a wider variety of weapons. One held a large kitchen knife, a few held clubs made from tree limbs, two had the primitive spears and one held a wooden baseball bat. The one with the kitchen cutlery must have been the prima donna of the group because he was wearing a sleeveless shirt to complete his outfit. It looked to be made of leather as well, but it was so blood stained and greasy that I just couldn’t tell. There was a primitive headdress tied around its forehead, but instead of going up, the feathers were hanging downwards.

Like the rat boss, the headdress gobby led from the back and was a bit bigger than the rest. If all the others were between four and four and a half feet tall, this boss seemed to be around five. A large pot belly underneath sagging tits pulled the greasy shirt tighter than anyone would want to see and I think he was exited, because I saw some ridged titty action going on. Pointing the knife at me it squawked something at the others and they charged forward while the leader watched. There was no way for me to escape. They would easily catch me if I tried to run through the thicket, so I chose to meet them at the 4 foot high chain length fence that enclosed the yard.

RPG experience has taught me that goblins are only slightly smarter than animals, but there was more to learn by looking at them. They obviously could make and use primitive weapons, and also apparently recognized the need for clothing to protect their precious bits. They had a social hierarchy and the ability to communicate, but they did not realize attacking a very tall man over a fence they were barely taller than was a bad idea.

A goblin wielding a club was the first to reach the fence. It kept its weapon in one hand and used the other to vault the fence. A two handed jab of the pitchfork pierced all four tines through his chest and I tossed him over my shoulder like a load of hay. The next was coming over the fence before I could get the pointy end of the fork facing the right way, so I shouldered charged it, knocking the goblin to the ground and bending the top rail. Gaining some room, I swung the fork in a wide arc causing them to all step back or duck and returned to my original stance. Again I was prepared to stab the next green-skin stupid enough to come over the fence. The goblins fell back realizing their tactics were not working and spread out before resuming their assault.

Well that sucks. I was not yet handy enough with a pitchfork to take on six goblins if they surrounded me. Deciding to become more aggressive, I took a quick side step and took one through the throat with the fork. Like some movie with gory special effects, I watched the blood fly through the air, following the tines to splatter on the fence as I reset again. Some of my opponents had made it over the fence by then so I sprinted next door. I easily hopped over its matching chain link fence without touching the top and turned to meet their next advance.

This was actually going pretty well so far. These creatures, that would slaughter me on open ground, were quite manageable with the careful use barriers. If my life wasn’t on the line, I wouldn’t even be breathing heavy. While I waited, the creatures reorganized and prepared a two pronged attack, from outside the yard and from the original house. The leader still had not moved, and was stroking its knife like a cheesy cartoon villain while it watched. The next goblin to take a shot at the title was holding a wooden Louisville Slugger. I gave him the pitching hay treatment and soon chucked him over my shoulder like the first. Easy EXP, I thought. I sidestepped and caught another through the stomach. Lifting him in what was now becoming my signature move; I heard a heart wrenching crack and felt the wooden pitchfork shaft break. Gobby number four looked down surprised at the metal sticking out of its stomach and then to me before collapsing to the ground. The shock of losing my weapon stupefied me. I was fumbling around attempting to pull out my hatchet when I got stabbed for the second of the day.

I did a fair imitation of the goblin earlier as I fell to my knees and looked at the goblin pulling the spear out of my back. It was grinning as it thrust at me again. Twisting I was able to shove the spear out of the way with my hand and grab onto the shaft. A sharp pull brought him close enough and I grabbed him by the throat in my left hand. His bloodshot eyes flew wide open as the life was choked out of him. A club hitting across my shoulder blades caused me drop him before he was finished. Another swing caught my hip as I stumbled back to my feet and turned to run away. The wiry little things could hit harder than they looked and the impact sites flooded my mind with new agony. I swung my fist wildly at the club wielder causing him to dodge and gained the separation necessary to run stumbling to the stairs of an elevated wooden deck connected to the house.

The spear toting goblin had recovered and was right behind club wielder who was chasing me. I managed to stay ahead of them and finally pulled the half-hatchet from my belt. After climbing the first few steps I quickly turned and faced them. Club goblin was not prepared and stumbled as he attempted to stop. With no room to swing the club in between the stair’s handrails he jabbed at my shins. I ignored the weak blow and chopped down, lodging the hatchet into base of his neck. The hatchet was a little dull, but it still ripped several inches into his flesh. Before I could rip the hatchet loose he dropped like a sack of rocks. My body was bent forward, so that I could land the strike on its diminutive form. The hand axe refused to come loose as the corpse fell and it pulled me forward. Losing my balance I tripped over the dead goblin and fell down the bottom few steps. The spear goblin was unable to get his weapon lined up in time to skewer me when I struck him and we tumbled tail over teakettle down onto the grass.

The spear wielder ended up on top of me with both of our backs to the ground. I latched onto the back of its scrawny neck in a headlock and rolled until he was on the bottom. Although effective, the overwhelming smell of unwashed monster had me regretting wrestling around with the creature. Grinding his face into the dirt I pinned him down into a rear mount. Under a frenzy of punches his skull cracked like a rotten egg, grey brain matter soon stained my hands and leaked onto the lawn. Taking a life with my bare hands felt very primal and I instinctively roared, announcing my victory to the world. Unfortunately, the goblin leader was not impressed with my savagery and took the opportunity to attack.

Without any warning it stabbed me in the back with the kitchen knife, directly between my right shoulder blade and spine. I jerked away from the pain and flopped to the ground. The knife handle sticking was jarred in the impact and I temporarily lost my sight to the white hot pain. Lightheaded and dizzy from injuries and blood loss, I swiped out without direction. I flailed about like a dying bear, surrounded by a pack of hounds after a long hunt. The goblin stayed out of reach and was shouting in a grating language, sharp words full of hate. Lunging and swinging once again I felt more than saw my right hand catch one of the leader’s legs. Little fucker should have finished me off instead of talking shit. The weaponless goblin began clawing at my arm as I pulled him to the ground and reeled him in. His dirty, jagged nails were digging deep furrows into arms but they were ignored. When he was close enough my hands went around his neck, first one and then the other. Looking at his eyes, I slowly choked the life from him. He grasped at my wrists as he continued to squirm in a futile attempt to escape. After what seemed like forever, his body a final shudder and his muscles relaxed. Just in case he was faking it, I drew a knife and drug it deeply across his throat before letting him go.

Totally exhausted I wanted to collapse, but was afraid to fall down due to the knife lodged in my back. My injuries were too severe to continue on my journey, and I desperately needed a secure place to lick my wounds. Knowing that knives were supposed to stay in before going to an ER for treatment, as they tended to block severed veins and arteries and caused much more bleeding when they were pulled out, I let it be for now. Standing, I recovered the hatchet and returned it to my belt. Ignoring everything else, I worked my way the fences’ gate and exited the yard before grabbing my pack. I was forced to use my left hand as the other arm was refused to work now that my adrenaline had worn off. The broken pieces of the pitchfork were left lying on the killing ground, no longer useful and now only trash. The lack of a primary weapon had me yearning to grab the bat as it lay there, but there was no way to carry anything else. Unsure if I had cleared all the mobs in the area, the option of hiding in the house was quickly thrown out. I slowly worked my way back to the road, avoiding most of the thorns from before, and went back to the blacktop of the highway.

The two miles back to my house were too far, so I looked around for other options. A white cargo van in parked on the shoulder seemed like the best choice. A creeper style van, the GMC had no windows in the back and had a solid metal cage wall separating the cargo area from the front cab. Thankfully the doors were unlocked and opened easily. The van looked to have belonged to a plumbing contractor, and there were racks and bins with various items like PVC, copper pipe and the like stored within them, but the main floor space was empty.

I got inside and shut the door behind me, willingly enclosing myself with the hot air the sweltering sun had created inside. It was a fair exchange for the relative safety provided. Relying on my night vision in the dim light, I made an attempt to bandage my wounds. The compression would hopefully slow the flow of blood enough for me to live through my latest adventure. Ignoring the scrapes on my arms, I used some duct tape found in the van to secure a bandage in place over the spear wound to my lower back. My shoulder had stopped leaking already and was left alone. My wounds took all the energy out of me, leaving me bone-tired and unable keep my eyes open. Forcing down a bottle of water to replace lost fluids, I lay down on my side. The knife was still sticking out of my back when I lost consciousness.

When I next awoke there was no longer light seeping through the cracks in the doors and the van was a lot cooler, indicating it was well past nightfall. Still exhausted and in pain, waking up because of having to pee would have been fantastic compared to what was happening. The whole fucking van was shaking. Something was sniffing at the doors and the shocks squealed in terror as the van was knocked violently back and forth. Ground shaking footsteps caused the concrete to crunch as something circled my hiding place. Not daring to make the slightest movement that could give away my presence, I held my breath and prayed. A square cut out allowed me to see out of the front windshield, and several stars twinkled in night. Their ever burning fires were briefly quenched when something with dull gray scales and yellow eyes passed by. The van came up on two wheels as the monster knocked into it again, causing pipes to fall and clang on the inside as it righted itself. I had a feeling that the beast was going to treat the van like glittery wrapping paper, and unwrap it like a present before eating me for Christmas dinner. A loud cry came from the west followed by church bells ringing. The beast gave snort and crunched swiftly away. It sounded like it was following the roadway to Cincinnati as well and the noises of cars being knocked aside followed it into the distance. I spat out the breath I was holding and began sucking in much needed air. My heart raced as my chest heaved and I proceeded to have a moderate freak out.

Was that thing a fucking dragon? Were there dragons in this world? I hoped it was full grown, because if they came any bigger there was no way to get strong enough to take them out. Holy shit how many times and I going to almost die today? I checked on my wounds while trying to settle down and saw that they were closing up nicely. The furrows on my arms were done bleeding and were scabbing over. The spear wounds still ached, but they had at least stopped bleeding. I could feel the knife still sticking out of my back and my chest ached sharply with my every breath. Now would be as good a time as any to pull it out, so holding a wad of mostly clean towel strips in one hand, I reached over my shoulder and ripped it out. The skin had healed around it, holding the blade in place tightly. The new opening oozed a tiny waterfall of blood as I struggled to stop it. I left the remains of my t-shirt on, wedged the bandage underneath it, and leaned against the side of the van to apply pressure.

Lightheaded, my world started to spin. My vision slowly tunneled and I eventually fell over to my side when my muscles failed to hold me up any longer. The screeching sound of claws rubbing against metal sounded from the van’s door. Death knocks again I thought, as I faded back into unconsciousness.