Reincarnation Trials: A LitRPG Apocalypse (Systems of Salvation Book 1) Page 10

  We left Zed’s shop, stepping onto a mostly empty road. I earned a few odd looks, mostly due to my heritage. I ignored them, leading the way to the mayor’s office across the street.

  My boots thudded over the fancy porch, and I found the door bolted closed and an ‘At the Heavenly’ sign in the window.

  I sighed, just wanting to buy a damn horse if things turned poorly.

  “Come on, back to -”

  The church bell rang with a fury.

  The constant repeating chimes warned of something dire. The casino, bars, and even the brothel spilled out townsfolk, eager to see what the commotion was.

  A man dressed much like I was glared up at the tower with a waving hand. “Stop that, Ulisa. What in tarnation is coming?” the man asked.

  The tower guard pointed toward the gate in panic. “Mayor, the beasts are swarming. At least thirty of em are running this -”

  I stopped listening, snatching the long rifle out of Keb’s hands. I bolted for the wall, racing toward the nearest ladder in the direction the lookout pointed.

  A table tumbled from the parapet where the guards had played cards, spilling cheap coins all over the courtyard inside the wall.

  The sentries started firing, the pop of their weapons drowned out by the roar of the charging narocks. I knew that angry shriek from before and sighed in relief because of how distant they were based on their roars.

  The lookout had done a great job, and based on the angry calls of the narocks, these were the gator dog variation, the kind that’d climb a wall and resist a small round.

  Both of those facts sent shivers down my spine while I scurried ten feet up the ladder.

  “This town is so screwed,” I muttered as I climbed.

  Keb froze at the base, not willing to come up.

  “I need you to reload, Keb,” I ordered. “I’ll fire a pistol while you reload the empty one. I shoulda bought three damn rifles, but we’ll make do… Hey, where are you going?”

  My commanding voice didn’t pass muster because he dropped the bag before fleeing.

  “Mother of mercy. You’ll pay for that, Keb!”

  “I ain’t dying on the wall!” he shouted back, suddenly finding his courage.

  I was forced to lean Henry (yeah, I named the rifle after the previous owner) against the outside wall. Back down I went, hefting my sack onto the wall’s platform.

  “What are you doing?” a random guard asked, running by to get a better vantage point.

  “I’m pissing into the wind,” I sassed, pulling out a bandoleer with .50 caliber rifle rounds set into it. “I’m going to help you live. You don’t even know what these things are capable of.”

  “The mayor will have your hide,” the guard warned, deciding I wasn’t his problem.

  “Not likely,” I muttered, letting the issue drop.

  I pulled out a box of ammo for my revolvers and realized I was set the best I’d get. A final glance at the populace told me why the guard had made his comment.

  Wheeled barricades rolled out of alleys, and I almost laughed at how pitiful they were. The townsfolk set up an inner defense away from the wall, spreading out to create a second field of fire inside the courtyard.

  “Well, that’s dumb as shit,” I muttered before cupping my hands. “They can jump right over that. It’s bloody useless. Get on the roofs. Or better yet, shoot from the walls and then use the roofs.”

  The mayor shouted something back, but I didn’t hear it. The guards continued to fire recklessly at the incoming wave of prog’narocks.

  I dropped to my knees, using the low wall to brace Henry. When I stared out over the landscape, I felt a mix of hope and doom. Thirty beasts casually waddled toward the walls in a pack formation.

  Their six legs bunched as if ready to burst forward, but for the moment, they kept the pace slow and steady. I did feel a bit better when I saw they still had a few hundred yards to reach the walls.

  The distance was more than most repeaters were capable of, but that didn’t stop the idiots on the wall. The constant crack of gunfire only slowed for reloading.

  Puffs of dirt showed the rounds missing their targets.

  “What a shocker, they’re missing,” I grumbled to myself.

  My angle wasn’t great, but I certainly could get a bead on a target. Since the prog’narocks didn’t seem to be in a hurry, I decided to capitalize on the opportunity.

  I used my left shoulder to lean into the three-foot-tall wall. Henry stretched over the edge, the trigger well almost butted up to the wood. I tucked the buttstock into my shoulder firmly and lowered my eye until I could see down the scope.

  During my training, I had learned to keep both eyes open. I hated the process but trusted the results. When the X on the other side of the scope lined up with a prog’narock, I tickled the trigger back.

  BOOM!

  The weapon bucked off the wall, kicked my shoulder, and belched out a twirling bullet.

  “God damn, Henry. You dick,” I muttered from the pain.

  Of course, I couldn’t hear my own words because my ears rang fiercely.

  I watched the round kick up dirt a few feet short of my target. Knowing every second counted, I proceeded to prepare for the next round.

  The bolt action slid back, ejecting the shell casing. I deftly slid in a new round and gently locked the bolt into place.

  The beasts continued to approach at a modest pace.

  Since my round fell short, I had to wing the aim. A modern scope would let me adjust, but this old thing didn’t have that option. Henry had literally engraved an x on the scope based on where he rested his head.

  That was part of the downside of taking an untested weapon into the field.

  With the weapon ready to go, I leaned into the buttstock. I winced, already fearing the weapon’s kickback from the next trigger squeeze.

  I told myself to man the hell up and sighted a new target.

  With a smidge of adjustment, I aimed above the torso of a beast. My exhale finished, I fought the need to tense, and I squeezed the trigger.

  Boom!

  The noise dimmed, mostly because the ringing already made it hard to hear. I kept my face lowered, my left eye watching for -

  Splat!

  The round zipped across the spine of my targeted beast, tearing a large rip, and exposing white bone. It shrieked out in agony, clearly wounded.

  The shot was too high, though, telling me I had over adjusted.

  I rushed to get another round in. The prog’narocks had enough when two fell over dead from lucky shots. The moment they started their sprint, the dumb guards were trying to load a dozen rounds into their repeaters.

  I tucked the bolt in and locked the lever down. It wasn’t the time to panic. I fought the rising concern, knowing being calm mattered.

  I positioned myself, sighted the weapon above a chomping maw of monster teeth, and brought the trigger back upon my exhale.

  Boom!

  There are times in a man’s life when he can be a cocky self-assured asshole. This was one of those moments.

  I didn’t need to watch the round.

  My target was only a hundred yards out with a constant run, and I knew my shot was on point.

  The second I had the next round in the chamber I sighted another prog’narock. I smirked at the beast in the background missing half its face. Yup, that last shot was perfection.

  When the sights lined up to where I wanted them to go, I exhaled and squeezed.

  Boom!

  I aimed center mass, and as my angle faded for a clean shot, I watched to see this round land.

  The bullet dove into the torso of the beast right where the lungs should be. The sheer impact flipped the creature, sending it into a tumble. It stirred, twitching a lot, but it sure as hell didn’t get up.

  I lost my advantage and was forced with a choice. Did I defend the gate or fall back to a new perch? The townsfolk didn’t listen to my advice, forming a half-circle while facing the gate t
he beasts charged.

  I groaned at the fact they figured they were safe behind the short spike-covered barricades on wheels. They weren’t. In fact, the townsfolk happened to be at perfect biting height.

  Instead of shouting at them or even nearing them to help, I had to think about survival.

  My survival.

  The guards on the wall unleashed fully leaded repeaters at close range. Painful shrieks from wounded narocks deafened my hearing.

  When I watched to see if they held the wall, well, it became clear they didn’t kill enough of the beasts. It didn’t take long for the guards to lose their courage, hopping down from the wall to the inner courtyard.

  The fleeing guards tumbled, recovering quickly before beating feet towards the townsfolk.

  A few fools stayed on the walls to the bitter last. While I hesitated, I came to a decision instead of becoming a tasty snack.

  I raced down the wall, away from the gate, sticking to the high ground. My damn sack weighed me down, but I wasn’t ready to abandon it.

  My dash along the parapet left me a huffing mess until I reached a section where a home’s roof rested within jumping distance. With a hard push off, I soared over the gap and slammed into the slanted planks.

  Gravity tugged at my body, especially with the laden bag. I scampered higher until I stared across a ten-foot gap between this home and the church. My peripheral vision caught the first of the beasts climbing over the lip of the wall.

  Good men would die if I tried for the tower. Instead of risking the jump, I tossed the bag down in the best spot I could. Then I laid down prone, using the sack as a prop.

  A man tried to jump off the wall. The white of his eyes flared wide, and he screamed in terror. And rightfully so. A beast shot forward, its sharp teeth puncturing his sides.

  He floated in the air, caught in the grip of the beast’s maw. With a hard flick of the head, the screaming man flew outside the city.

  The crack of rifles opening up from the townsfolk created a swarm of bullets.

  “You bloody fools,” I muttered.

  The single prog’narock wilted under the withering fire, its body becoming riddled with holes.

  A man who rushed to help a wounded friend near the gate ate a bullet in his side before toppling down to the mass prog’narocks.

  I loaded a new round, sighted the wall, and waited. Another single beast crested the wall unopposed.

  The mayor ordered a volley, and I actually heard his cry this time.

  “Fire!”

  Half as many guns opened fire this time; the other half were still reloading frantically.

  I waited.

  The prog’narock flopped from the wall, injured and useless. Out of the thirty, I had to assume only a dozen or less were dead. Maybe a few had retreated with meals, but I figured –

  Six, then eight, and then fourteen beasts crested the wall. Each of the large creatures snarled at the hundreds of humans who awaited them.

  “Fire!” the mayor ordered, but only a handful of guns fired.

  A guardsman on the wall who continued to foolishly fight found himself running down the planks I had retreated down earlier. He stayed far too long, and a prog’narock bounded after him, quickly closing the gap.

  Deciding to help him, I shifted my aim.

  “This is gonna be close,” I said, finishing with an exhale and a trigger squeeze.

  Boom!

  Henry barked angrily, and the round blew a huge chunk out of the creature’s mid-section. It tried to keep running but collapsed, falling into the interior of the town. The guard eyed me appreciatively, running for my roof.

  All hell broke loose when the remaining prog’narocks showed off their epic jumping skills. A dozen landed inside the courtyard, and the sprint was on.

  I leaped to my feet, leaving Henry on the roof. I pulled out a single dragon, squared my boots, and leveled my arms. Two hundred feet became a hundred, and I waited. When they entered fifty feet in front of the barricades, I unleashed with measured pulls.

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Out of the four shots, two hit my target and caused enough damage to slow it.

  Below me, I saw the mayor trying to flee but tripping on a baying hound. All the mayor’s good graces and luck that had led him to power failed him in that moment. The lead prog’narock soared over the wall, taking immense fire from the reckless citizens.

  The beast died mid-flight, landing with a wet smack on top of the mayor. When his guards rolled the creature off their boss, I saw his head had popped like a melon crushed in a vice.

  “Keep shooting,” the guard who I had saved said as he arrived at my side.

  I lined up one of the slower beasts, firing four more rounds. I scored a lucky shot, cratering the skull from above.

  Three of the prog’narocks entered a melee with the townspeople, dying to a hail of bullets but creating a swath of destruction.

  I switched my expended dragon for one fresh with bullets eager to fire.

  The moment I leveled the revolver, I noted only three more prog’narock hesitating to jump the barricades. I unleashed two shots for each, the .45 slugs tearing big rents with each shot striking a beast.

  The continued fire from the townsfolk finished the job until all I could hear were the screams of the wounded humans who pleaded for help or mercy.

  “Damn fine shootin’,” the guard said.

  I opened my chambers on both dragons, spilling the brass into the bag.

  “We need to flee,” I mumbled while methodically reloading my revolvers. “These are the slow ones.”

  “You’re,” he paused to snap, “You’re the fellow who survived Lornsto.”

  “Theo,” I said.

  “Braxton,” he replied. “I owe you my life.”

  “Then help me reach the next biggest town with an actual militia and proper defenses,” I told him.

  “Oh, like in Jorni? That’s a two-week ride, which is a long time in infested lands. Rumor is Jorni is in a pitched battle as well, but they have actual militias and army units who live inside their walls. This is the region’s capital. There’s over two thousand people huddled in these walls.”

  “Yeah, about that,” I said rudely. “They’ll help us escape because not all of them will run.”

  “Mayor has been told by Jorni that they’re filled up with refugees. That’s why he sealed the gates a week ago. No one out, everyone in.” Braxton grunted unhappily. “All of the mayor’s buddies managed to get out in time. Imagine that. Anyway, we got the space and the supplies. More so now.”

  I glanced around to see about twenty dead bodies being sorted by the gates. The prog’narocks had taken heavier losses than the humans did, but they were spotted from far away and the wave was manageable.

  I crossed my arms, not exactly thrilled with the option of another town under siege.

  “What’s past Jorni?”

  “That’s big?” Braxton asked.

  “Yeah. If I wanted to be safe from the invasion sort of deal. Surviving seems prudent after racking up these… kills,” I said, wanting to say points.

  “Bisben is three months out, and it’s our nation’s capital. It’s also a major hub for the rivers. It’ll be pretty safe there. Me and Mari were talking about takin’ the family, but the mayor sealed the gates,” Braxton said.

  “The mayor’s dead, splattered by a creature he never studied. Him and all those dead would have lived if they fired a few volleys then went onto roofs after,” I said with disdain.

  Braxton rubbed the back of his neck. “It was you who said that?”

  “Yeah, I’ve fought these things. They have claws to dig into wood and muscles capable of climbing. Roofs only buy you time, nothing else,” I grumbled.

  “Will another wave come?” Braxton asked.

  “No clue, but hey, help me put the wounded ones down and get whoever’s in charge to open the gates. If we leave the dead to feste
r, it might attract more,” I said.

  “Uh, I’m hearing ya, I really am. But look,” Braxton said, pointing to the gate on the opposite side of town.

  A mile or two across the town, I expected to see more beasts swarming the walls. Instead, the gates slowly opened, and a string of wagons made a break for it.

  “Which is it, help defend, or run for safety?” Braxton asked.

  The caravan ended after the twentieth wagon or so.

  For two thousand people, that wasn’t much.

  I stifled a yawn, and noted the sun finally dipped over the horizon. The full moon illuminated a bloody scene that scattered clouds turned off and on. I really didn’t know what I wanted to do.

  So far, my time in Snagglewood was brutal. I kinda felt like I had earned some relaxation from surviving the trip here. Now this. The question was whether dallying in Laro would get me killed. If it did, I’d lose all my progress and then some.

  I mulled these thoughts over, not certain what to do, when shrill cries of terror from those leaving caused my heart to jump in sadness. I snatched my heavy bag off the roof before sprinting to the wall.

  I soared over the gap, hearing Braxton land right behind me.

  Apparently, there was more fighting to do, and I could make up my mind later.

  Torches that had been lit at dusk flickered as we charged by them. The back dozen wagons of the caravan spun, eager to return to the city walls. Any hope that we had killed all the nearby beasts proved false.

  The front wagons vanished into the darkness. When a muzzle flashed from ejecting a bullet, I saw an agile webo’narock readying to pounce on an unsuspecting man.

  The vision faded, and the cry of a dying man told me all I needed to know.

  I ran hard, pumping my legs for all they were worth. Unfortunately, Laro was a big town with a long wall.

  I felt like vomiting and was only halfway down the stretch. Taking a risk, I chucked my heavy ass bag outside the wall. Henry lurched out of my grip, plummeting with the gear.

  “Shit…”

  “What… the… hell?” Braxton blurted between breaths.

  “I’ll… get… it… later.”