The Rifleman - Ch.24 (Patreon)

Chapter 24

Go.

Wesley took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second and calming his rushing heart. When he opened his eyes, the sights were lined up on the first of the men leaning over the table. Letting his breath out slowly, he squeezed the trigger twice; seeing the man fall, he kept his breathing slow and steady as he sent another two bullets into the head of the stunned man across the table. He jerked but didn’t fall, so Wesley added two to the heart as well.

The man fell dead.

Wesley swallowed once and began to pick targets at random, firing down into the training yard before quickly changing to firing into the massed wolves in a pen to one side of the tents. His rifle clicked dry, and he rolled to one side, activating Reload and slamming in another clip before beginning to fire again. He saw the tower fall out of the corner of his eye and fired three charges of Improved Flare into the wooden structure. It began to burn as he kept firing, trying to ignore the still bodies littering the gorge. 

Several of the wolf-men were finally starting to fire back, spells and arrows shooting toward his position, so he rolled back and got a running start before shifting into wisp form and sailing over the gorge, grabbing the ledge on the other side and flipping himself up and into cover. 

Wes dropped, shifted back, and continued firing. 

It was chaos below, but they were starting to organize. A group was running for the unblocked exit to the gorge with shields over their heads.

“Here goes nothing,” Wesley sighed and cast Improved Flare and Jolt simultaneously, sending the fizzing blue flare into the middle of the shielded group. 

There was a loud crack, and the group fell, their shields falling to one side as he unloaded a barrage of shots into them.

Several of the wolves did manage to escape the bolt and got to the end of the gorge, only to meet a wall of steel from Peterson and Mental’s attacks. 

He saw Ben’Ta throwing her swords. They scythed through the air like boomerangs, slicing flesh from bone and heads from necks before returning to her. 

He chanced a quick look at the other end, seeing the pike’s tip flash and skewer any who dared brave the flames to climb out. 

Wesley put in another clip, getting to his feet as he poured steel into the enemies below, trying very hard not to notice the fear and panic on their faces before they went slack and still forever. 

He smelled gunpowder and blood in the air as he kept firing.

The screams came from the left and right at the same time…

Wesley looked each way, seeing the injured Mental being dragged back as the last of the attackers fell. On the other side, a large wolf-man was stalking toward a downed Sara. 

“Fuck!” Wesley yelled, firing a Healing Flare toward Mental and the others before leveling his rifle at the massive man stalking toward Sara. 

He fired three shots, and the bastard dodged. The big fucker dodged them and howled up at Wesley with a wide grin.

“Double fuck,” Wesley muttered as he shouldered his rifle and started to run. 

The edge passed under him as he leaped, casting Were-wisp as he left the ledge and sailed toward the massive werewolf. 

It was like something out of the old Universal Monsters movies, but starring a shaved yeti of a man instead of someone decent. 

He cast Jolt and Improved Flare at the same time, his body beginning to fizz and crackle before he forced the energy into his arms, as he had done with the basic flare only a few days ago.

“Hey, asshole!” His strange, echoey yell made the creature turn just in time for Wesley to launch a lightning-fast jab at the thing’s head. The bastard dodged again!

Just when he worried that the thing would dodge forever, it reached out and grabbed both his arms—both his electrified arms. 

“Well, that works,” Wesley muttered as the crack sounded out, and the big bugger went over backward. He pulled himself free, dropped wisp form, and emptied half a clip into the thing’s head and heart. Five bullets to each, and the thing finally gave up and died. 

Wesley rushed over to Sara and took a quick inventory. She had been slashed across the stomach. It was pretty bad, so he used two charges of his Emergency Heal before starting to bandage her stomach as best he could. 

“He fucking dodged my pike,” Sara groaned. 

“I know, right?” Wesley said. “Did no one tell these big bastards they are supposed to be slow.”

She chuckled weakly, and he helped her get a bit more comfortable.

“I’m just going to see if the others are okay,” Wesley said, shifting into wisp form and leaping straight at the wall of the gorge before kicking off into the air. 

“Sure, Zippy, you do that,” Sara called. “I’ll just take a minute.”

Five minutes later, the monk Boone came sprinting through the now-dead camp to check on Sara. She was alive, which was more than he had expected. Wesley had been standing on the edge of the gorge above her and dropped down to speak to him.

“Is Mental all right?” Wesley asked. 

“That nutball is fine,” Boone said with a smile. “Might be sore for a day or two, and he will never stop complaining about being bitten, but fine.” He nodded at Sara. “Nasty wound this, but good job.”

“I just patch them up, Doc,” Wesley said with a laugh, “It’s your job to put them back together properly.”

The grisly task of clearing the camp followed, and Wesley would have liked to skip it. But he didn’t.

Everywhere he looked, werewolves and people with their heads blown out or massive holes in their chests. He learned something that day he wished that he had never known. When people die, they sometimes void their bowels. It added just that last bit he needed to throw up repeatedly as he worked with the others to loot the dead. With each body that disappeared, Wesley remembered what Pris had told him. Each and every one of these bodies would be up and walking again as a zombie or some twisted creation in a dungeon. 

It was grotesque. 

They ended up with a pile of armor, cloth, several tents, various weapons, and backpacks. It was not a small amount, and they stole the cart to carry it all back.

“We can send all this back to the town,” Peterson said as they walked out of the gorge at last. “This is going to be a great help.”

“I’m glad something good came out of this,” Wesley said absently, his mind still on the events of the battle and its aftermath. 

“If it helps,” Peterson said gently, “That camp was going to kill a lot of people.”

“I know,” Wesley sighed. “But I wish it wasn’t necessary.”

“So do all the decent ones, lad,” Peterson said kindly. “On the bright side, this may just help save the Zone.”

“Every little helps, I suppose,” Wesley said. 

“Little nothing,” Paterson said, pulling out the map. “Look, we got at least part of their attack plans here.” He pointed out several marked areas. “These? They might be more places like this. We wipe them out, and we are off to a good start.”

That actually did help him feel better. It made it all the more worth it, and right now, he wanted nothing more than to decide it was. 

/////////////

Wesley Lancaster was surprised to wake up with a warm body draped over him. His exhausted body had wanted nothing more than sleep when he got back from the patrol, and his exhausted mind had been in no position to argue. 

He had passed out almost immediately.

When he went to sleep, he was definitely alone. That was the kind of thing you remembered, no matter how tired you were. 

The body sharing the furs with him was warm and very comfortable to cuddle up to, so he wasn’t complaining so much as confused. Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to figure out who it was with a few subtle movements when he finally noticed the tail. It had curled itself around his waist and at least answered the question of who.

The remaining question was why Ben’Ta was in bed with him.

Wesley opened his eyes slowly as he shifted just slightly. 

The room was lit by the fire across the way. A couple of sleeping forms were visible in the other alcoves, but not as many as he would have expected. How long had he been asleep….

The patrol had made it back around sundown, and Wes had remained awake just long enough to make sure everyone had a meal before crawling into the furs. The lack of light from the door was a good sign it was fully dark, which meant he slept for anywhere from a couple of hours to five plus. He could dimly remember nightmares at first, but he felt pretty rested now. Just as Wes was deciding he must have slept for more than four hours for the others to be up and around, Ben’Ta opened her reptilian eyes and smiled sleepily.

“Hello,” Her voice was soft and quiet, tickling his ear in a very pleasant way. 

“Hi,” Wesley replied.

“I hope you don’t mind me joining you,” Ben’Ta whispered. “You were having nightmares, and I couldn’t sleep. I figured it would help both of us.”

“Seems like it worked,” Wes smiled back.

“It certainly did,” she yawned and stretched a little before slipping out of the furs and standing. Her body was framed against the firelight, her armor nowhere to be seen, and only a pair of linen shorts and a long-sleeved shirt covered her. She was clearly aware he was looking, as it didn’t take anyone that long to stretch, but he wasn’t complaining. Ben’Ta looked back over her shoulder, winked, and sauntered out of view.

Only then did Wesley realize he must have stripped his gear off before bed, given that he only seemed to be wearing shorts.

It was his first time being separated from his gear since coming to this world, and the panic he felt was like a bucket of cold water. He rolled out of the furs immediately, seeing his rifle leaning against the wall next to it. His armor and other items of clothing had all been folded and placed neatly on the top of his pack, which was next to his bed. 

Wesley felt warm inside, surprised that something as simple as not being robbed in his sleep could make him feel so safe. It seemed his standards for what counted as a pleasant surprise had dropped sharply. Still, it was a cherry on top of his wake-up that really made him feel on top of the world. 

Once dressed again, Wes did a quick tour of the place, making sure that he got the tubs filled and putting on something to start stewing in the pot before stopping by where Ben’Ta was just finishing attaching her swords.

“Thanks for that,” Wesley said. “I think I needed some good sleep.”

“Don’t mention it,” She smiled, “It was nice to curl up with someone.” 

They kept talking as they headed up the stairs and out into the cool night air, finding Sara and Split on guard. 

Both girls were grinning at them.

“Oh. look, Split,” Sara said with mock innocence, “I think our fellow squaddies are up and about.”

“It's our turn to sleep, then,” Split replied seriously. “Do you think they slept well?”

“I’m not sure,” Sara replied. “So, Ben’Ta, did you sleep well?”

“We did, thank you,” Ben’Ta said, ignoring the pair.

“Did you fuck?” Split asked.

Everyone looked at her.

“What?” She asked.

“Come on, Split,” Sara sighed. “Let’s go have another talk about subtlety.”

“Why?” The mobile hairball complained as Sara dragged her away. “Isn’t that what you were suggesting?”

Sara stopped briefly and turned back. 

“Captain and old Sling Hand went into the town with the loot; they should be back in the next couple of hours.”

“Got it,” Ben’Ta nodded. 

The Improved Flare lit the night as Wesley opened fire. Three hours into the watch, the enemy had appeared. A mess of creatures were trying to push across the sands. A few snakes were still on show, but they were easily dispatched. The bigger problem was the agile cats, which always seemed to move faster than he expected. They were dark black, like large panthers, but their stealth skills were their only defense. Once he caught one, it often died within two shots, but they were difficult to catch and far from the only target. 

He saw one take a sprinting run up and launched itself into the air, sailing far out over the sands. Wesley shot it twice in the chest and switched his aim to another snake, taking it out before ensuring the panther was, in fact, dead. 

The body began to sink into the sands, joining the others. The next attack came a few meters to the right, and Wesley began to suspect it was nowhere near as random as it looked. 

The quicksand might have removed the bodies, but it didn’t always do the same with the blood. It left traces on the top, and come sunrise; they would make a pretty clear indicator of where not to go. 

Ten minutes later, the attacks stopped again, but Wesley was willing to believe they would return.

“They are mapping the sands,” Peterson confirmed a couple of hours later when he was up and about. “They are probing for weak areas, trying to find a path through.”

“Any way we can throw them off target would be good,” Wesley guessed. 

“We can’t fake a crossing point,” Peterson said. “I’m afraid it will get a lot harder in the next couple of days. This lot is their version of scouts. The real army will be coming on behind.”

The attacks continued throughout the night. Sometimes, they had a few minutes between attacks, and at others, it was almost an hour, but they never stopped. 

About a half hour before sunrise, Wesley watched a panther leap further than any of the others had done. It was about thirty feet from the actual safe spot, and as the panther landed, Wesley cast a shield under it. 

The shield shattered but lasted long enough for the agile cat to leap over the last of the sand. Wesley shot it as the big cat landed on solid ground. It had no chance to dodge at that range and died where it landed, head sporting a large hole between the eyes. 

“What the hell,” Sara yelled. “How did it even do that?” 

“I cast a shield,” Wesley said quickly. “Can you cover this spot for a few minutes?”

“Sure,” She shrugged and hefted her pike. “What are you up to?”

“Bluffing,” Wesley said as he shifted into wisp form and dashed toward the safe crossing. 

The moment he approached, he dropped to his belly, crawling through the sand as the attack continued elsewhere. It took him almost fifteen minutes to crawl out that far, but when he got about level with the panther’s average landing distance, Wesley shifted back and used his axe to cut a long gash on his forearm.

Blood pooled on the ground below him as he watched and waited for a full two minutes before casting Emergency Heal and shifting back into wisp form to make his way back. 

He cut his forearm because, despite what he had seen in every movie and TV show, cutting your hand was an astonishingly bad idea. It would make every use of the hand painful and uncomfortable, not even taking into account the chances of cutting a nerve or tendon and doing permanent damage. When he finally got back to the others, Peterson was waiting for him.

“Got an explanation for that?” The squad captain was not exactly happy with Wes but was willing to hear him out.

“Yeah, I let the cat cross there and left blood on the safe route where cats normally land,” Wesley said. “Worth a try, right?”

“Rookies,” Peterson turned away and walked off. “Every one of ‘em thinks they are a fucking genius.”

“What?” Wesley asked the monk, who was eating a bowl of stew with every sign of enjoyment while sitting beneath the fading stars. 

“Beasts,” Boone replied slowly. “Have a sense of smell. Especially about blood.”