The Rifleman - Ch.48 (Patreon)

Chapter Forty-Eight

Loot and Scoot

It was crazy; it really was. Wesley looked around at the destruction around him and had to ask… How is this my life?

A little over an hour earlier, Wes had dropped a seven-story stone tower on a creature that looked like it belonged on the cover of a heavy metal album. Now, he was walking around a marshland covered in half-collapsed trenches and dirt walls, tapping corpses to make them disappear and collecting the loot they left behind.

This was his actual life.

Malia came over with another armful of cloth scraps, gears, wheels, oil, and more besides. He added them to his storage box and continued on his round, still lost in thought about how exactly this weird world was what he had to contend with from now on. 

It wasn’t likely to get better, now was it?

“Wesley, have a cookie!” Joy held out a small cookie to him. “You look sad.”

“Joy,” Malia said gently. “Not everything can be made better with a cookie.”

Wesley took the cookie anyway and smiled as he bit into it. His mouth flooded with a sweet taste mixed with something that reminded him of lemons. It was refreshing and pushed aside the stench of the dead, just for a minute.

He smiled.

Joy beamed smugly at Malia and went back to clearing out her own stash. It turned out the squirrel-kin had a little hoarding problem. What she collected seemed a little random, but Wesley had promised she could take her things with her, so that was what they would do.

Losing your home was tough, Wesley knew, and having a few of your things with you could make that pain a little easier to bear.

“We need to get out of here,” Malia noted as they finished clearing the immediate area. “Even if they didn’t call for help, others will be coming.”

Wesley nodded. He was exhausted, dirty, and his entire body was one massive ache that wanted nothing but rest. None of that changed the fact that they had to get moving. He looked around, seeing Joy tottering over with a vast bundle over her shoulder, her private stash of things that she had hidden and now recovered. 

It seemed like there was more buried around that she hadn’t been able to find, but it was enough for her to have an anxious smile on her face.

“Any idea where the nearest Outpost is to this one?” Wesley asked her.

“Sure!” Joy frowned around and then pointed to the north. “About a day’s travel that way.”

“Any others nearby?” Wes asked.

“One that way,” she pointed east, “and one that way.” Joy pointed west.

“South it is,” Malia nodded.

“We need to avoid anyone who might be coming from the nearest areas,” Wesley explained when he saw Joy’s confusion. “If they are coming to see about that report or in response to some message the undead lot sent, we’d rather avoid them.”

“Oh. Oh!” Joy perked up. “I know where we should go!”

“Where?” Malia asked, looking amused at the squirrel-kin’s happiness at having an idea.

“The southwest hex border,” Joy said excitedly. “No one will be coming from there!”

“Why?” Malia asked carefully.

“It’s wildland!” Joy offered. “No one lives there!”

“Wildland?” Wesley asked Malia.

“No settlements, no permanent owner, not even an outpost,” Malia explained. “It just changes control randomly.”

“And it is only a half day’s travel!” Joy beamed. “No one has even come that way in months!”

“Fuck,” Malia groaned as Wesley winced.

“What?” Joy looked worried. “Did I do a bad?”

“North-east it is,” Wesley said with conviction. “As fast as we can.”

“But?” Joy pointed. “My idea?”

“It’s the perfect place to hide,” Malia explained. “Totally perfect.”

“Right!” Joy insisted.

“Just the kind of place to do experiments and build a secret base,” Wesley added.

Joy paled. 

“Yeah,” Malia reached over and took the heavy pack from Joy. “Wes, I’m sorry, but–”

“We need to run,” Wesley nodded.

At first, Wesley thought they would have to go slowly to allow Joy to keep up, but he underestimated the little keeper. Within a few paces on the road, she was easily outpacing them both, stopping occasionally to wait for them to catch up.

Malia was in the middle, and Wesley was bringing up the rear. Even in wisp form, he couldn’t move too fast. Between building a bunch of defenses, fighting off a wisp, a spirited tower defense fight, and not having slept in a couple of days, he was running on empty. 

The only mercy was that they kept to the roads, at least for the first few hours.

The roads in the swamp zone were not great, but they were something at least. Of course, there was little chance of them staying on the road for the whole way, and after five hours of running, they had to leave the road and move into the swamps and marshes themselves. 

They were taking the most direct route away from the tower and to the northeast zone border that they could but were forced to divert multiple times. A large, oily-looking lake would have been simple for Wesley to cross, but the others had no chance. Three times, they hid at the sounds of a large group passing on a road or even through the swamp like them. Whatever happened at the ruins of the tower was going to involve a LOT of different people. 

Around the last light that day, Wesley and the others came to the zone border at last.

“What is it?” Malia gasped as she bent over and tried to get her breath back.

“Plainsrunner,” Joy called back, seemingly not winded at all.

“A bit of luck at last,” Malia sighed. “Bitter enemy to both the Forgemaster and the Marshwalker.”

“Our best bet for now, anyway,” Wesley nodded. “Let’s find somewhere to hide and rest.”

“Rest, not hide,” Malia corrected him. “The moment we are rested, we need to head for a neutral Outpost and file a report saying we never stayed at the last tower.”

The damp heat of the swamp vanished as they crossed the border, finding a long, sweeping plain of grass and trees stretching ahead of them. Wildflowers grew here and there, and a small collection of smoke trails rose from distant buildings scattered around here and there.

“The buildings are mostly zoners,” Joy explained. “But the Outpost is about a half-day to the east.”

The group kept going for almost three hours after dark, taking a winding path to ensure they didn’t leave too clear a trail. By the time they stopped, they were only a couple of hours from the Outpost itself and had found a small waterfall where the river dropped down a few feet before continuing. It was not exactly huge, but it was something in this open, rolling landscape. 

“Should fit,” Wesley agreed and carefully summoned his My Domain safe room just behind the waterfall. It was completely hidden, even the doorway obscured by the sheet of falling water. “Yup, it fits.”  

He led the way inside, feeling like he was seeing through a haze. 

“We need to rest and then move on as quickly as we can,” Malia noted. “We are not safe yet.”

“Got it,” Wesley mumbled as he stumbled over to a bunk, throwing up five Shields over the doorway with a barely conscious gesture. “Joy, make yourself at home.” 

They were all asleep the moment their heads hit the fluffy furs that passed as both sheets and pillows.

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

Wesley woke to the smell of cooking and blinked bleary eyes at the sight outside his alcove. 

Joy bustled back and forth—the table was already stacked with food—between two areas that had been screened off; steam rose from behind each one. 

Swinging his legs out of the bed, he stretched and was surprised to see Joy suddenly standing in front of him. 

“Hello!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to one of the screened-off areas, where he saw a waiting bath already steaming. “Be quick, or the food will be cold.” 

Wes declined to argue, stripped off his gear, and slid into the water immediately. It was heaven on aching muscles, and in no time, he felt like a new man.

Getting out of the bath, Wesley was immediately presented with a new problem. His uniform was gone.

“Uh, Joy?” Wesley called anxiously, “Where are my clothes?”

“Coming!” She yelled back, and Wesley yelped and covered himself when she simply strode in, carrying his uniform, somehow cleaned and looking almost pressed.

“Joy!” Wesley protested. “I’m naked!”

“I see that,” She giggled. “Hurry and dress; food is ready.” 

Wesley dressed in a blur, trying to ignore the laughter from Malia and Joy on the far side of the screen.

“By the way,” Malia said around a mouth full of food. “Beast-kin are a little relaxed about privacy.” She winked.

“I noticed, thank you,” Wesley said sourly.

His bad mood didn’t last in the face of breakfast. It was incredible, with small dishes of meat, something like a waffle with a sweet drizzle, and even a mix of eggs and vegetables. It was, without a doubt, the best meal he had eaten since arriving in this world. 

The next hour was spent repairing their gear and devising a plan for what to say to the Outpost. Malia’s first idea of leaving Joy behind in the safe room was almost immediately abandoned. The room might be safe, but that didn’t mean things inside it were—at least, without defenses. 

Wesley still had at least a couple of hours until he could summon his simulacrums to act as guards, and Malia was not in a waiting mood. That meant either taking Joy with them or her waiting nearby. Neither idea seemed like a winner, but it was the best they had. Someone had to be searching for the Keeper who sent the report, right? 

They had to act as if they were, just in case. So that meant trying to make sure no one saw her, at least until they got far enough away from here that no one would think to look for them.

Wesley’s idea was somewhat crazy, but it was better than nothing.

“Joy, how flexible is your tail?” Wesley asked.

“Quite?” Joy grabbed it and held onto it protectively. “I love my tail.”

“Can you wrap it around yourself?” Wesley asked thoughtfully.

“Sure, but it is too fluffy to hide,” Joy said.

“We could shave it?” Malia asked and then sat there stunned when Joy shrieked and slapped her.

Everyone froze for a second, and Joy looked so scared she might pass out just looking at her own outstretched hand.

“So that’s a no to shaving it,” Wesley said with a nervous laugh. “But that wasn’t my plan.”

“A no would have sufficed,” Malia said gently to Joy, patting her hand carefully. 

“Sorry!” Joy squeaked. “I-I like my tail.”

“Noted,” Wesley said with a smile. “And I think it might help to hide you as well.”

“Really?” Malia and Joy asked at the same time. 

A half-hour later, Wesley released his hold on the safe room as they set off for the nearby Outpost. 

The walk itself was quite pleasant, the terrain being close enough to his first zone in this world to bring back a flood of memories of those first days and the strange people who were his introduction to this world. 

Joy fidgeted constantly but otherwise didn’t complain. She also kept a decent distance away from Malia, who kept explaining that she wasn’t upset, but the former Keeper refused to accept that. 

They were still arguing when they saw the farmhouse ahead of them, complete with a small barn and the telltale stone tower of an Outpost.

As the senior member of the team, Malia would generally take the lead in any Outpost, but Wesley led the way inside this time. It was his plan, so it was up to him to try and make sure it worked.

“Hello?” Wesley knocked loudly on the door as he opened it. 

“Coming!” A woman called from the back, emerging as the three of them filed in. “Good Evening, how can the Keeper help you?” She looked like the typical grandmother that everyone always imagines but rarely actually has. Grey hair in a bob, loose clothes covered in flower prints, and an apron that completely covered her front. She even had flour up to her elbows. 

Only the tattoos on her left arm gave the lie to the story. Her entire arm was covered, a thick sleeve of complex tattoos that seemed to all focus on hitting things with blunt instruments. 

“Evening,” Wesley said, immediately dropping his plan to feign tiredness. Sharp older women like this would not only see through it immediately but point it out loudly and at length. “Just checking in to post a quick update for our group, and then heading out again.”

“Name of group?” the Keeper asked as she clicked her fingers, summoning the records book.

“Errant Rangers,” Wesley said promptly. “We were at an Outpost a zone over but had to leave on an escort mission, so we didn’t have time to let anyone know.” 

“Escort?” the keeper asked.

“Protection contract, single person, multi-day. The endpoint is unknown at this time,” Wesley clarified. “We are helping a woman search for her family. She lost contact with her caravan.”

“Oh, the poor dear,” the Keeper said. “Where were they headed?”

Wesley panicked; they hadn’t planned this part out, assuming that the Keeper wouldn’t ask. Most didn’t.

“Majora, eventually,” Wesley answered quickly. “We hope to catch up long before that.” He shrugged.

“Which is why you don’t know the end date on the contract.” The old woman nodded thoughtfully. “She doesn’t look like she can travel that fast, either.”

Wesley turned to look at the bulky figure behind him. Joy was hidden entirely by a set of basic linen robes that Malia had as an emergency bathing robe. It was matched with a bit of rough rope taken from Wesley’s own supplies, and the outfit was completed with one of the hooded robes/shirts he had taken from his time in the undead dungeon. They actually fit her pretty well.

At least it did before they had her wrap her tail around her belly. Combined with a bit of stuffing up each sleeve, Joy now resembled a rather lumpy, overweight monk. They had added some basic leather armor over the top of the robe, the worn look being perfect for what they wanted, while a small portion of her own belongings were tied into a bag at her waist.

It wasn’t going to win any cosplay contests, but it was certainly convincing in the ‘not a squirrel-kin stakes.’

“I can’t believe you did that,” Malia huffed. “So fucking rude.”

“What did I do?” Wesley asked.

“Telling the Keeper that Joy ate all our food so she would let you have extra pies,” Malia shook her head. “How is that supposed to make Joy feel?”

“You remember Joy isn’t actually overweight, right?” Wesley asked, confused. 

“Joy, did he—never mind,” Malia sighed as she saw Joy was stuffing one of the pies into her face as fast as it would go. 

Wesley shrugged and went back to attempting to inhale his own pie.

“These are so good!” Joy said eventually, licking her fingers.

“Right?” Wesley nodded his agreement. “If we ever get back to the city between the cliffs, there is this baker there…. Best pies ever made.”

“Ever?” Joy asked. 

“Ever,” Wesley nodded. “Even in the middle of an invasion, people wanted them.”

“Wow!” Joy looked suitably impressed.

“Which way shall we head now, do you think?” Malia asked.

“Which way is Majora?” Wes asked. “It would make sense if we were seen heading that way.”

“Agreed,” Malia turned, and they continued heading for the eastern border of the zone. Occasional herds of Flat Horn Deer ran past, and on one occasion, they heard the high-pitched laughter of a hyena, but they made it to the border without much trouble. 

It took them another two days of trudging through the snow to reach the next Outpost, where they heard of a caravan that had just passed through a couple of days before. The Keeper didn’t know if it was headed for Majora, but they didn’t really care. It matched with their story, which is what anyone following would find. 

Another day of snow travel, and they were out of the zone and into Malia’s least favorite place. 

The Forest.