by Han Yang
I flung myself out of the mare’s saddle and hurried to the two stalls she pointed to. When I popped the first one open, I saw all the saddle parts and the head harness resting on pegs. I groaned in frustration.
The western setting had the stinky horses in the simulations that were super robotic. I always skipped setting up their saddles and such. Of course, that skipped lesson came back to bite me.
I grabbed the first set, but instead of attempting to stick the items on the horse, I quickly tied them to the back of my saddle.
When I finished the second set, Norma eyed me suspiciously. “Smart. We need to hurry. Too bad we can’t get my wagon and supplies.” I listened to her while hopping back into my saddle, gentler this time. I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t have a damn clue how to put on a saddle or reins. “We could really…”
Heavy sniffing from the door warned me, and I spun my mare, barely getting my rifle up in time.
Boom!
The door shattered, spraying slivers of wood inward. A mix of a bear and lion strutted into the barn. It hesitated, trying to adjust to the darker setting in the building.
I didn’t make the same mistake. The weapon shifted to line up between the eyes, I held my breath, and gently squeezed.
Crack!
The rifle punched a wallop into my shoulder, numbing it. My ears rang from the discharge, and the bullet buried into the beast near the shoulder, punching into the main torso.
It didn’t die right away. I pulled open the lever, shakenly retrieved a bullet from my bandolier, and slid a fresh round into the hot weapon. I slammed the lever in place, thanking God the beast struggled from the shot and hadn’t attacked while I reloaded.
I sighted the webo’narock, knowing it was the aquatic variation with lungs when I noticed gills on its underside. I figured it’d be bigger, but apparently not.
A wet hacking noise echoed through the barn with the creature struggling. The beast’s mouth ejected blood onto the barn floor. It staggered a few steps, as if blind, then teetered into a fall. When it landed with a thud, I questioned if it was truly dead. I used a second to study it more.
The head was big and blocky. The maw held fangs that reminded me of a saber tooth tiger. The body was sleek, built for speed or fluid swimming, and the tail had a big fin that looked perfect for swatting. It probably weighed a few hundred pounds. I’d never want to fight the beast up close. Of that, I was certain.
“Well, shit. It doesn’t have impenetrable armor,” I said jovially.
“Help me!” a shriek from a distraught woman echoed through the barn.
I tucked the rifle over the saddle, nudging the mare forward toward the creature in front of us. I didn’t want to take the chance, deciding to put a round or two in it to ensure it stayed down. The mare hesitated.
“Darla, we gotta get close,” I said, pulling out my pistol.
“They ain’t crafty like that,” Norma said, and I shot her a confused look. “They don’t play dead. If the chest ain’t rising, it’s dead.”
She opened the back door and the second the hinges creaked to reveal the sunny day, Darla shot out of the barn. After ensuring my pistol was firm in its holster and ready to fire, I inspected my surroundings. I found myself in a shitty wooden town, home to no more than a few dozen.
Hell, I didn’t even see a bank, and the road was caked mud on top of sea stones. On the top of the saloon - the largest building in the shantytown - a woman in a bright pink dress brandished a chair as a weapon.
“Aren’t you ladies supposed to be fighters?” I muttered, getting Norma’s attention.
“The narocks hit during a wedding. Whole town was planning on leaving in a few hours,” she said and pointed to a row of preloaded wagons missing mounts. “They musta nailed the other water one.”
I ignored that, trying to find the threat that the woman on the building faced. When I did see it, I gasped.
A scaly creature with tan, browns, and reds, climbed up the side of the ruined bar. If a gator and a dog had a baby, this was it, but with six legs.
The body only stuck out a few inches from the side of the building as it scampered up. At almost ten feet long, it was going to be hard to miss, but I nudged Darla forward. She hesitantly obliged.
The creature paused its ascent, rotating its head at my approach. All the damn tied-on saddles made a racket.
“Jenny, run!” Norma shouted.
“I can’t. I twisted my ankle.”
“He got it distracted, flee! These are too hard to kill with just small caliber,” Norma said.
It was at that point I noticed the scaly flesh probably would prove tough to puncture.
The beast scampered down the wall, deciding to attack me instead of the damsel on the roof.
I did the sensible thing.
I released the saddles from Darla’s back, dumping the weight while we spun. The second we could make a break for it, I kicked her ribs and she bolted.
Norma and her stallion caught on quickly.
Brutus picked up a dead sprint and quickly outran us, knowing that's all he needed to do. I glanced over my shoulder, watching the beast use its six legs to waddle and run at a speed I couldn't fathom.
Darla didn’t catch on when I slammed my boots into her ribs. She just glared at me angrily, never seeing the monster coming. In a flash, it closed the distance, and I knew we simply weren’t fast enough.
“He’ll be winded. They can only sprint for so long. Your horse needs to speed -”
The prog’narock, for that is what it had to be, lunged in a final burst of power. I flung myself out of the saddle as the massive hybrid neared. Instead of jaws clamping onto me, they latched onto poor Darla’s neck.
Snap!
The gritty terrain rose to greet me. My left shoulder slammed hard into the ground with a pop. I rolled a few times, holding onto my rifle with a death grip. When I stopped, I propped myself up to see the prog’narock shaking Darla’s neck fiercely.
I watched in horror as the mare fought in sheer panic.
She whined until -
Crack!
The prog’narock panted heavily and Darla stilled. In the distance, Norma fled, never slowing to bring me a spare mount or even giving a second look over her shoulder.
Instead of shouting at her, or attempting to fix my limp left arm, I rolled onto my belly. A rock in front of me proved a great spot to rest my rifle against for leverage.
I sighted the beast who hissed at me when it had noticed I lived. I could tell it needed a moment to rest. While it slowly lumbered my way, I sought a weak spot, not finding any but the eyes.
Deep down, I knew the chances of me hitting a bullseye even at fifty feet was nonexistent. I couldn’t rely on a lucky distant shot, so I waited.
A howl from a coyote broke the tension between the beast and I. If the heavy scent of blood filled my nostrils, the scavengers would be hoovering until nightfall.
The prog’narock slowed its approach, checking its flanks over and over.
A closer howl of a coyote pissed it off. The short snout with its extremely wide mouth opened, and the beast ripped out a roar.
I’d waited for this exact moment. I aimed right for the center of the mouth, released my breath, and seduced the trigger.
Crack!
The rifle kicked back, even popping off the rock from the ejection of the round.
The whizz of the twirling metal zipping across the distance had me holding my breath. I grinned when the round dove into the beast’s open maw before blasting out the back of the skull.
A shower of gore mixed with flecks of bone sprayed the area. The roar cut off instantly, and the beast collapsed dead.
Instead of hooting or hollering, I immediately set about reloading my weapon. My left arm still needed to be popped into my shoulder, meaning it took some time to reload.
“Mista!” the pink-dressed lady hollered from the roof of the bar. “Is it dead?”
“Yeah, are there more?”
I asked.
“Thank the heavens! You saved me. It’s my sister's wedding. She ran under the wagons. We gotta find her,” the woman shouted. “Oh, that’s the last one. A young sailor in garb just like yours died as he killed the other creature.”
“Joana, right?” I shouted back.
“Jenny,” she replied. “And the name of my hero?”
“Theo. Theodore Karo.”
I rose to my feet, trotting toward the shanty of a town.
“Is she down there?” Jenny asked, this time with less yelling as I neared.
“Uh, what was she wearing? I’d think she would have heard us if -”
“Hello,” a man meekly said, cutting me off.
I hesitantly followed the sound of his voice to around the side of the bar. An alley between a house and the bar held two storm shelters.
In front of cellar doors, a dead woman had been mauled to death. A handsome man with slicked back hair pried his head out from the horizontal doors.
“Oh, Sammie. I - I - I told you to hurry in. I told you. You should have kicked those shoes off. It’d have killed us both,” the man muttered in shock. Blonde hair from above caught my attention. Jenny listened in before quickly vanishing. “You saved me, good Sir.”
“Name’s Theo. I’m sorry about your missus,” I said, trying to avoid looking at the mangled body.
“Reggie and I had to. You understand, right?” he asked.
My mind slowly pieced together the dots he didn’t directly connect for me. There was only one reason for him to say it that way.
He had closed the door on her.
Yeah, I could see fingernail marks on the cellar doors.
Oh… The bastard.
Since morality played a role in scoring, it made sense that Darcy (who played scorekeeper) attributed points for ingenuity. Even more so when she factored in human interactions deemed questionable. This meant what I did next would be judged.
I found that sometimes a man doesn’t care what others think.
I spoke my thoughts out loud.
“You're a piece of shit,” I said, closing the distance. “You could have carried her. You could have shot the beast. You could have sacrificed yourself to let your wife live. Instead, you locked her out. Look at these nail marks. She needed you and you failed her.”
He held hands up defensively. My fist raced between his palms, connecting squarely into his lips. The man staggered, holding his hands to his face while cursing. Feeling that this wasn’t enough I lanced out a side kick, scoring a crack against the outside of this knee.
When his trembling hand tried to keep me at bay, I rained a fury of blows into his face. After a good dozen, he groaned, rolling in the dirt. I almost shot him. Almost.
The complaints he belted out were ignored. I turned, hearing Jenny hobbling out of the bar. I hurried over to help her.
The young woman frowned upon seeing my arm hanging limply. “You're hurt, and your nose needs to be plugged.”
“I’ll wrap that ankle once I get a chance,” I told her. “Thanks for pointing out my nose. I know I hit the ground hard earlier, but there was a lot going on.”
I hadn’t noticed it was busted until she said something. I wiped the blood off my face, and she entered my personal space.
Reggie continued to complain from the alley near his dead wife. The bastard deserved a punch or ten, and I wasn’t sure what to do with him.
Jenny turned my head to face her so she could work.
Blue eyes and tanned skin, the blemish free youth of a lovely young woman. She smiled, and her crooked yellow teeth caused me to raise an eyebrow. Her dress pushed up her ample bust because of the corset midsection. The outfit looked torturous.
“I’m cutting you out of that. We need to move fast and hard,” I said. “We’ll hit Laro first then dive deeper into the interior.”
“You saved my life,” Jenny said again. “Always the damsel, never the hero. No matter how hard I try.”
I smiled down at her. “Will you do me the honor of yanking my arm down hard enough it pops back into place? You’d be my hero.”
A loud coughing caused us to pause. “I can do it. You’ll probably need a man’s strength anyway,” Reggie said, leaving the cellar doors to hobble closer. “I done wronged. I know I did, but I can help.”
Jenny leaned up, kissed my cheek as she whispered, “Sorry.”
I frowned, but the hobbling woman was a blur. She yanked my six-shooter free of its holster, drew down on Reggie, and unloaded all six shots into his chest.
He stood there stunned.
My ears rang from the proximity of the shots and whatever Jenny said as she tucked my weapon back into its holster - I didn’t hear a damn lick of it.
She wiggled a finger in her ear as if that’d help clear the tinnitus we both suffered.
I still couldn’t believe what had happened. Jenny hobbled over to Reggie. His body freely bled from six puncture holes. She stood in front of him, watching him suffer.
I had no clue how he was still breathing, but he stayed on his feet with his hands roaming over his grievous wounds.
A single finger push from a hundred-pound woman toppled him. Instead of gawking or punishing her for his cold-blooded murder, I gave her my back.
I had a million things to do before we left for Laro, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to waste my time on a dead man like Reggie. Jenny, on the other hand, might prove useful - assuming I could patch up her ankle and properly arm her.
“Nice shooting,” I said when the ringing slowed.
“Asshole deserved it. I’m glad you punched him instead of forgiving him. Would you have killed him?” Jenny asked.
“Maybe. Not likely. Yes. I’m obviously conflicted. Maybe I’d have left him for the narocks to kill him though.”
“What do we do next?”
“We prepare to leave, Jenny. We prepare to leave on a grand adventure,” I said with a can-do attitude.
A whole new world of opportunity awaited me. A damsel with an itchy trigger finger seems the right kind of gal to take into battle.
Snagglewood Day 1
Location Lornsto
I hefted the last crate of booze onto the back of the lead wagon. The bottles clanked as I stuffed it in a home between some fancy clothing trunks. Besides the wedding supplies, everything was already loaded, and I didn’t want to skip town without all the sweet loot.
If my studies had taught me one thing, it was to pick the dead clean and collect your winnings. I kinda hoped there’d be more survivors, but after flipping a bunch of people I hoped would stir, I concluded it was just Jenny and I left.
Surprisingly, I had little issue with picking the items off the bodies. I had collected a sack of weapons, jewelry, coins, and trinkets. The sack rested near the driver’s bench.
The nicest rifle, one with a scope and a caliber about twice as round as the shooter I had slung over my back, also waited for me to get a move on.
The setting sun put a pep in my step. I hadn’t said a word to Jenny since she had killed Reggie. I had noticed her hobble into the barn, steal a mount to ride, and start to lead out the horses to the front of the wagons. One by one, she worked the horses while I looted Lornsto.
The last wagon was missing horses, forcing me to pilfer the valuable chest under mounds of trunks containing female attire. Once that was stowed, I connected the front wagon to the wagon behind it with rope until the caravan was linked together. Each wagon had horses, and I just had to hope the ones further back wouldn’t fight the pull from the front.
Jenny approached from the ruined bar, chugging from a bottle of wine. A bloody sack rested in her other hand, and I grew concerned.
“Ya mad?” Jenny asked. “Normally the locals don’t get mad.” She flung the bloody sack on top of the nice trunks. “That’s the eyes and tongues of the monster kills. The locals do voodoo or some shit with them. Should earn us something nice and me something special.”
I snapped the reins,
urging the big stallions in the direction Norma had fled.
“I’m not local.”
She leaned back on her horse, eyeing me skeptically.
“What a coincidence. Neither am I. Few days back I had a bit too much to drink. It musta been a real bender because I woke up at my sister’s wedding, not even realizing how I got here,” she said, giving me an opening. “It was almost like I was in a new body.”
“Shit.”
“Shit what?” Jenny asked with her brows furled.
I could see it in her eyes. She knew but was testing me.
“Always the damsel, never the hero,” I muttered, piecing it together.
“Oh… oh!” Jenny snorted with a knee slapping laugh. “You figured it out. Tranquility.”
“Hope.”
Those two words sealed the deal for us both. Jenny faded back, and I placed my pistol in my lap.
The Reincarnation Trials were a big deal. My whole future rested on how well I did. Shit, I’d been so busy, I hadn’t bothered to check my score, stats, or quests yet.
Now that I knew Jenny wasn’t a random creation of the Trials, I certainly wasn’t going to drop my guard and bury my face in data until I had some answers. The clomping of horse hooves neared.
Jenny rode beside the wagon, tossing me her horse's reins.
“What’s this for?” I asked with squinted eyes.
“Relax, you sexy cowboy. I went and grabbed some whiskey. You men tend to hate wine,” Jenny said.
I shook my head. “I’m not drinking anything besides water.”
“Huh!?” Jenny blurted.
Out of nowhere, she leaped from the horse and flopped like a fish onto the bottom of the driver’s bench where the feet went. The bottle of whiskey teetered, fell, and didn’t smash, until the wheel ran it over.
“God dammit that hurt,” she groaned, rubbing her ribs while her feet dangled. “Stupid ankle, stupid horse, blessed wine. Sorry about your whiskey.” She groaned, sliding further onto the wagon.
“I could have stopped the wagon train.”
“Yeah, but the wine already has me feeling cocky, and I figured the transition would go smoother. I really did a number on my ankle,” she said, scampering up to the bench. She noticed I was pointing a pistol at her. “The only gun you need to point my way doesn’t have six bullets. If I’m lucky, it’ll last two, but that is always doubtful.”