The ground began to rumble at the creature’s roar.

“Rat King?”

“Oh man, is it like a rare spawn?”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Let’s g—“

He grabbed me by the collar and yanked me back just as what I could only describe as a wererat jumped down from the nearby scrap piles. This wererat wore a plate of rusted metal on its chest and carried a rusty pipe as a club. The ground where it hit was shattered. It glanced toward us, and raised its rat like muzzle to the sky and let out a loud, chittering sound.

That sound was reciprocated all around.

“Do you think this is the Rat King?” Jack asked excitedly.

As if to answer the question, a similar-looking monster came strolling up the narrow canyon: wearing similar looking armor, but carrying a sharpened pole as a weapon, and another wielding a scrap-made great sword followed soon after. They sprinted through the distance through the canyon in a matter of seconds and formed a semi-circle around Jack. He retreated a step as they advanced on.

I glanced around frantically.

“Hold them off.” I told Jack, “I’ll throw together a trap.”

He simply nodded and planted his feet in the entrance to the canyon while I glance around frantically. I grab hold of a couple of poles that had fallen down from the scrap pile when a series of footsteps behind me draws my attention. A pair of black scythes forces me to retreat a step. A cut opened up on my cheek as a Scrapper stepped toward me. Dammit. I drew my pistol and fired a couple of shots. The bullets pinged off of its carapace as the fight began between Jack and the three wererats.

The scrapper sprung forward, and I dodged out of the way, holstered my pistol, and drew my sword and pointed it forward. Once I got the skill, some stances were burned into my body. I take up a defensive stance, and waited as the Scrapper charged forward again. I caught the downward blow, and pulled out my pistol and fired into the creature’s face. It falls dead.

Jack, meanwhile, stood his ground, intercepting the blows from creatures: parrying them, and inflicting brutal counter attacks. Blood dripped from the head of one of them, and another’s arm was hanging loosely at its side as it tried to hold the club steady with the other. The final one had part of its face missing from Jack’s shotgun.

“Hurry!” Jack’s pained voice called. “There’s more coming!”

Sure enough, down the ravine, two more of these were rats were rushing to join in the fight, so I got to work. I grabbed three hollow poles, quickly sharpening them by cutting a small portion off the top, before fixing each one to another two poles with the paracord. I tied another length of paracord together and hooked it against a piece of scrap to my right. The entire process, even at my quickest, took about ten minutes. To make it go quicker, I tied my sword to the center most pole instead of cutting through the rusted steel. I buried the whole thing in a thin layer of dust.

Meanwhile, Jack had managed to kill one of the wererats: its body lay with its head caved in right by his feet. He was in danger, though. Blood flowed from open wounds all over his body as he fought back viciously: delivering blow, for devastating blow.

The next one was easier to make. I ripped the arms off the dead Scrapper, and tied them to a pair of poles, and made a similar setup as the one currently hidden in the ground, but instead I set this up in one of the scrap piles and tied it off like a mousetrap just a little bit aways from the trigger for the first trap.

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“Jack, retreat toward me!” I called.

At this time, the sound of gunshots could be heard from the entrance into the Scrapyard. Jack turned around and sprinted as hard as he could, and the creatures gave chase. Blood dripped off his clothes and onto the ground, and the spear user stabbed forward, connecting against the back of his leg. He stumbled a bit, and I held the spearman off with my pistol.

Once Jack was over the first trap, I pulled the paracord leading to it. The temporary wall jutted up and impaled the spear user through the gut. It took a while for the other two to navigate around the wall and give chase. By that time, Jack had already collapsed on the ground in front of me. I cut loose the last trap. This one slammed down hard like a mousetrap. The Scrapper's hands acted like fangs, piercing the Great sword user's neck and ripping its head off. Shit, that’s all I had. I pointed forward with my pistol and fired the rest of the magazine. The bullets whiz past and tear out parts of the creature’s flesh, but still it advanced. The creature raised its great sword above its head. I couldn’t dodge. If I did, then the attack would hit Jack..I raise my knife in a futile attempt to parry.

Charge forward.

What?

Charge. Forward. Quickly.

I follow the advice of the Ego and step forward. The handle slammed against my head, and my vision blurs.

His throat is open. Stab up, quickly.

The wererat tries to back up, but I’m a hair quicker, and I slam my knife straight into the creature’s throat, and tear a long, red line through. Its blood flows down over me as it collapses forward. I take a step back and the creature falls fully onto the ground, to bleed out on the ground.

I’m frozen for a second, and it only takes Jack’s groaning and coughing to jolt me back to reality. I fished around inside of my bag and pulled out a potion bottle.

“Here, drink.”

Jack does so, but still sputters on the ground.

“Can you move?”

“I...I think.”

“There are people at the front of the Scrapyard. Let’s head to them.” I say. “I don’t think we can fight anything right now.”

“Help me.”

I lend him a hand, and help him stand. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and uses me as a crutch. I reload my pistol as I help him walk to the front. Half way through the narrow canyon that would lead to the front. The sound of combat grew louder, and it wasn’t long before we could see a great gray hill jutting above the mountains of scrap.

The anima is thick here. Staying here will probably strengthen you.

The earth shook again, as a great chittering roar came from behind. A wererat, leading a Swarm of Gray Rats charged forth out of the Canyon.

“More mobs incoming!” Came a cry from above.

“Shit. When are we getting reinforcements?”

“Ten more minutes, according to Liam.”

I point my pistol back and fire. The bullet hits an Alpha Rat and kills it. I fire again.

“There’s someone back there!”

“Leave them!”

The rat horde was gaining ground, and would soon be upon us, but the mouth of the canyon was close too. I glanced at Jack, who was looking toward me. Sweat and blood caked his forehead, and his skin was a shade paler than normal.

“Leave me.” Jack said. “If you leave me, I can buy you time to get out.”

It was true. I could live if I leave him...no. Losing Jack would mean losing the only friend I’ve made here. The only friend I’ve made in over a decade. Shit. Part of me wanted to throw him to the ground and sprint forward, yet a bigger part of me was calling me a monster for even thinking about that. Fuck. I might as well do something good in my life.

I take a large step, pivot on my heel, and shove him toward the mouth of the canyon. He was like a brother to me.

“He’s hurt bad!” I called from the mouth of the canyon; my voice bouncing off the scrap. “Save him! He’s a good man!”

“Lyle, why?” Jack called.

Help me, Ego.

Are you sure? It will cost you nearly all the time you have left.

I’m fine with that.

“Hold on! I’ll come get him!” A familiar voice called.

It would be too late for that. They were mere feet away. I retreat a couple of steps until my back was turned to Jack and his rescuer.

What do you need me to do?

Bring down the mountains of junk on top of them. All of them.

...five months. That’s how much life force that will drain from you.

Do it.

Hold out your hand, and concentrate on bringing them down.

I follow his advice and concentrate on the peaks. Heat builds up in me and shoots out in an invisible force. Blood flows out of my ears and from my nostrils. I taste the blood in my mouth as the peaks of all the surrounding mountains of junk collapses and bury the mass of the oncoming horde of rodents.

Still, about twenty remained, including the wererat. I take a step back, as the wererat leaps forward and swings a horizontal slash toward my throat. I fall onto my back, and the blade misses my head by a hair, and slams into the scrap wall. It twists the blade over into a downward stab. It stops in its track as a white spear pierced through the rusted plate, and right through the creature’s body. A white flame burst to life and consumes the wererat.

“Good job, Lyle.” Aurora smiles down at me while I’m on my back. Her lilac colored eyes smiling just as broad as her lips.

She grabs hold of my collar, and soon I find myself floating in the air. Below me was a rat. A massive rat. On its head was a crown of twisted scrap metal. Twenty people stood at the entrance to the Scrapyard. Bullets streak out and slam into the large creature as a few stand near the legs of the creature, attacking it with melee weapons. Even this far up, I could feel the shock waves coming from those attacks. Blue, red, and orange lights streak out from a few of the people near the gate, pushing the giant rat back.

We land on the ground somewhere behind their line. Jeeps idle on the grass, as people hurry back and forth carrying ammo crates and potions toward the front line. There was a woman there: red hair, blue eyes and cherubic cheeks; holding out her arms toward the group. A faint yellow light comes off of her and connects to all the people at the front.

“Clara! We got wounded here.” I heard Aurora say, just as my consciousness faded.