#it's been raining non stop since yesterday and it doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon

[bubaboos]

this weather is already driving me crazy and autumn hasn't even really started yet ;-;

[tbnrpotato]

Sharpshooter - Only the Strongest will Survive

Chapter 10

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Violence, death, blood, profanity, injuries

The howl of an animal wakes me from my light sleep. They're out again. It takes me a few moments to gain my bearings, but my hand stuffs the middle parting of the golden hairpin into my belt automatically. The metal has gone dull from blood and acid rain. 

I take a drink from one of the water packets and a bite out of my half-eaten ration bar. My stomach growls in protest, wanting more. I'm eating even less that I usually did back in North America, and for a short time, in the city. We usually had some dead fish or something from scavenging to eat besides those ration bars. 

I look out from the mouth of the cave, my cybernetic eye scanning the area. There's no clouds today. That's new. The past few days have been plagued with storms. Acid rain had been spilling into my cave non-stop. Yesterday, I woke up in knee-deep water and had to clear it out with my bare hands.

Occasionally, I hear the faint sound of an explosion going off. Poor kids. Dying to a mine. So much more dishonarable than dying in real combat. 

I haven't seen any animals since I found one of its bodies right outside my cave. Right before you killed an innocent, injured boy. I haven't encountered anyone either. I've spent days alone in my cave, plotting out my next move.

The sniper is too heavy for me to use like a pistol. The only thing it's good for in my hands is smashing people's faces in. "So uncivilized," Mayday would say. I chuckle to myself at the thought. I hope he's still alive. Focus.

I'm running low on water packets too. Dehydration's a bitch, so if I don't get more water, I'll probably die. Can't have that. I found the sniper, ration bars and water packets buried in the ground. I don't know how I'll find more, considering the only way I found them was seeing the butt of the sniper stick out from the ground. 

If I encounter a person without a gun, I'll just tackle them and stab them in the neck with my hairpin. As usual. If the person has a gun, I'm fucked. Usually I'd say it's not worth the risk, but I'd rather go out fighting than of dehydration. 

After pacing the perimeter of my cave, I head back inside, taking the golden hairpin out from my belt. Running my finger across its dull surface, I notice that some of the outer layer of gold has peeled off, revealing a shiny silver underneath.

So this isn't real gold, huh. What a scam.

It doesn't seem like there are any animals near my cave. For now. They're only out hunting for what I assume are a few hours every day. When the howls stop, they're gone. That's my chance to get more supplies.

I can't see the green lights tonight. It's probably too cloudy. That also means there might be a storm coming. I won't have much time if I have to wait out the animals.

Soon, the silence returns, no longer punctuated by the sounds of feral animals. I wonder how many victims they claimed tonight. The more, the better. "Until a hundred million remain," the man in the suit said. The faster they die, the faster this nightmare ends.

Now's my time to find more supplies. I head out of my cave, hairpin clutched tightly in my hand. If I'm out looking for supplies and in the open, I can't bring my sniper. It's too heavy and bulky to drag along, so I leave the barrel sticking out of the mouth of the cave as a marker. 

The sky is brighter today. The almost blinding lights of the city probably contribute to that. The clouds almost seem like they're lit up. Visibility is good. There's no better time to go.

Walking down the slope of the base of the mountain where my cave is, I look around, trying to find any trace of water packets or ration bars in the ground. I tread carefully, making sure to avoid the little bumps in the gravel that are probably mines. 

I also make sure to avoid the bodies scattered across the ground. Seeing them from my cave was no big deal, but up close...oops. Accidentally stepped on the body of a toddler. The crack of its bones shattering under my weight echoes through the night. 

Shit shit shit everyone's gonna know I'm out here. I have to make this quick.

The scent of rotting flesh, blood and gunpowder fills my senses, and I resist the urge to throw up as I continue my careful dance across the gravel plane. Some areas in the ground have been dug up, leaving holes in the gravel. There were probably supplies or weapons there that people dug up. 

How am I supposed to find anything?

All I can do is keep walking and cling onto the hope that there are still some supplies that no one has dug up yet. Occasionally, I hear the sound of gravel crunching. I immediately switch my cybernetic eye settings to show heat signatures, but whoever's there is fast. 

It feels like my heart is in my throat. Someone's there. They might be following me. They probably want to kill me. But why follow in the darkness? Unless they want to strike at just the right moment...My hand tightens around the hairpin. I can't afford to let my guard down. My steps are barely audible without the heavy ass sniper on my back. 

Are there even any supplies left?

I keep walking on, clinging to the sliver of hope that there will somehow be rations left. Even with my guard up, my mind still drifts to Mayday. I don't even know if he's alive. 

Don't be silly. Of course he's alive.

But what if he isn't? What if he's one of these bodies on the ground? What if he's bleeding out somewhere from the wound on his head and I can't help him? What if-

Shut up. Focus.

I walk on in the same direction for what seems like eternity. Every step I take, I brace myself for an explosion beneath my feet and the excruciating pain that will probably come along with it. The sound of footsteps fades in and out, but they never get close enough for me to draw my hairpin.

Suddenly, a mine goes off right behind me, throwing me face-first to the ground. My heart leaps into my throat as I cover my head. My ears feel like they're burning. A high pitched ringing fills my senses, making my head hurt.

I look down and notice a bump in the gravel right under my chest. My eyes widen as my body tenses up. A mine. I curl up into a ball, bracing myself for the impact of the explosion.

I'm going to die. I'm sorry daddy, mummy, ah kong, ah ma...Mayday...

But nothing happens. After a few moments, I uncurl from my little ball and look around, confused. I should be dead. I should be like the others, just body parts scattered on the ground. I stepped on a mine, didn't I? Unless...

I kneel onto the ground and start digging around the bump in the gravel. My knees are scraped from the fall, the tiny rocks on the ground digging into the raw flesh, but I can't be bothered to care about that right now. I keep digging, my fingertips getting red and raw, until my hand finds what feels like fabric. I pull it out, before opening it and looking inside. 

There's what looks like 4 ration bars, a few big packs of water, and a bottle of something I can't quite recognise. I'll see what it is when I get back to my cave, when I'm not out in the open. I grab the bag, slinging it over my shoulder, before turning around and walking in what I hope is the direction of my cave. 

That mine that went off next to me...there was someone there. I can see what remains of their severed body, fresh blood spilling out and staining the gravel. I try to ignore the way it seeps into my boots, making them squelch with every step I take. 

That's not good. Enemies will be able to hear me. 

But I can't run either. Too much noise. All I can do is keep walking and pray that no one comes for me.  I can feel my heart pounding in my throat. My hand instinctively reaches for the hairpin on my belt. The cool metal against my fingers feels strangely comforting.

I can still see my footprints in the gravel from my journey. I take care to follow them as accurately as possible, not wanting to set off any mines right after I got some supplies. 

The way back is much faster than the walk to get the bag. I can just about make out the mouth of my cave from here, without having my cybernetic eye zoom in. Maybe I will make it back. 

Then I hear footsteps behind me. I whip around, fists raised to protect my face, hairpin clutched tightly in one. A sharp pain shoots through my the back of my palm and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying out in pain. Warm liquid trickles down my forearm. Blood.

A large mass suddenly pounces onto me, pinning me to the ground with its weight. I put my hands out, trying to push it off, but to no avail. The knife in my attacker's hand hovers dangerously close to my neck, only held off by my hand grabbing its wrist.

I can barely breathe. The weight is suffocating, and the hand trying to drive the knife into my neck is persistent. My arm burns from the effort of holding it off. My other hand, sandwiched between our bodies, slips out and drives the hairpin into my attacker's neck.

Or at least, that's what I try to do. The hairpin won't go in. It isn't sharp enough anymore. Panic shoots through me as my arm feels like it's about to give way.

No. No! I can't die here. I can't! 

My attacker now grabs my hand that's holding the hairpin, twisting and forcing it to drop my weapon. The hairpin falls to the gravel with a "crunch". No no no no NO NO. I squirm around under the weight of the enemy, panic flooding my senses. I can't breathe.

But I'm not going down without a fight. I twist the wrist of the enemy, forcing the hand to drop the knife. I grab it by the blade, quickly shifting my grip down to the handle, before driving it into their neck. 

A scream of pain barely escapes the person before I clamp their mouth shut with my hand, pulling the knife out and driving it back into their neck for good measure. Warm, crimson liquid soaks my hands, some of it spurting out of the dead body. I take the knife with me but leave the hairpin, quickly fleeing before any more enemies come for me. 

Panicked thoughts fill the silence of the night. The hairpin wasn't sharp enough. The acid rain dulled it too much. I'll have to use the knife now. But what if that dulls too? I can't keep relying on melee or I'll die. Getting up close and personal is too much of a risk anyways, you saw what just happened. 

As the adrenaline from the fight fades, my legs start to feel heavier and heavier. Each step takes more effort than the last. There's a dull ache on my right palm, where I grabbed the blade of the knife. I'll deal with that later. All I have to do is just get back to my cave. To safety.

The way back is calm. No more fights, not even the howls of animals yet. I reach my cave and stumble to my favourite corner, the one with the thickest layer of gravel and a smooth rock for a pillow. 

Lowering myself down onto the bed of gravel,I set my bag down, opening it up and laying out my supplies, my hands staining the fabric with blood. 

Now that I can afford to read what's on the unfamiliar bottle, I can just make out the words "healing paste" on it. Perfect for the wounds on my hands, which are still slowly dripping thick, red liquid. 

I open the bottle, scooping out some of the paste onto my fingers and applying it to the gashes. I let out a soft sigh of relief, the cooling paste soothing the aches. 

Can't use too much of this. Have to save it for future wounds.

I turn my head to look at the sniper that had been waiting patiently for my return all this time. I almost feel bad for leaving it behind.

Heh. Look at you. Feeling something for a fucking gun.

Of course I feel bad for leaving it behind. The fight would've been much easier with it. Maybe there wouldn't have been a fight at all if I had just shot the enemy from a distance. Maybe the sniper is worth more than just a sledgehammer to smash people's faces in.

I lay my head on the hard, smooth rock that I now call my pillow, trying to get comfortable. I'll figure things out in the morning. For now, I need to rest.