Chapter 3 : Haunted Tower
Cold and hunger were the two biggest foes he had to face in trying to survive. Ripley had found some supplies in the tower. Rags and ropes, a knife, metal ingots - useless without a forge, however the wood of the crates itself could be useful. Parts of the wall could be climbed. He made shelter on second floor of the tower. Using the rags to make a bed, the crates and some of bricks from the parts that had collapsed to shield that area from wind. There was a roof over it but the nights were still cold. He feared that fire would draw attention especially at night so the first few nights he went without. However as days went by he had not seen or heard another person in the area. He checked for tracks of both animals and people. Animals were plenty, people not so much.
Ripley was hungry. For the past few days he ate very little. A handful of berries from one bush or the other. Afraid of eating something poisonous he ate them in very small amounts. There was a clear spring flowing nearby so he had drinking water. But the cold water did nothing to sate his hunger. He had been lucky to find a nest of some bird in the grass but now needed a fire to cook the tiny eggs.
There were remnants of a fire place in the tower and plenty of dry wood but he knew not how to make a fire by his own hand. He had carved some dry wood shavings for kindling and tried rubbing sticks for a while. His palms were sore and he had several splinters but no spark ever showed. Now he was tired, hungry and growing desperate. Starvation was not a pleasant way to die. Especially when the food was right there in front of him. It was tempting to forgo all that he knew about the dangers of eating raw food. What difference did it make if he starved or died from disease the eggs might contain? But he needed fire, not just for this instant. If he were to make his guns, to survive and kill Arayoch he will need to be able to make a fire. To forge steel and craft all the intricate mechanisms they required. But first and foremost he would need to keep himself alive.
Ripley calmed himself. Acting out of desperation never did one any good. It was desperation that drove him to accept Arayoch’s offer. It will not save him. He needed a way to make a flame. Trying to remember other ways make fire. The people he had lived with used embers. There had to be another way. Glass? He had none. Something about a rock. Flint. He had never been too interested in minerals and rocks but he could probably recognized it if he saw it.
It did not take long for him find it on the shores of the stream. While it took a few attempts to even make a spark and several sparks to light the fire he managed in the end. Using a helmed he had found here as a bucked he got some water and put the eggs in. the fire was small and it seemed like it will go out any moment. Gently pushing it towards the bigger pieces of wood , placing more kindling and hopping that the boards from the crates will catch fire. They did eventually. It was hard work to keep the fire going. Boiling eggs in a metal helmet took hours and by the time he could actually eat darkness had set in and he was too tired to even eat. There was the fear that the fire will go out and he won’t be able to make another one.
The three small eggs were like a bite. The fire was warm and he wanted to sleep by it but his brain said it was too dangerous. People or animals might come upon him. He needed to climb back up to his bed and sleep in the cold. But he was too tired. Ripley kept thinking about going up and fell asleep.
He woke with a start. Mind blank, not knowing where he was or what woke him. It wasn’t pitch black darkness anymore. Foggy, damp and cold. Fire was gone but embers still remained. The fog made him weary he could not see anything. But with any luck nothing could see him either. Climbing back up he burrowed into the pile of rags and fell asleep again.
Ripley dreamed of home, Stella’s smiling face, the happy times. He missed them but there was no way back. Stella, his home town and even the planet itself were all gone. He could never go back there. He could never know happiness again, not until Arayoch was dealt with, not while demons preyed upon the innocent. The feeling of sorrow and emptiness left in his heart began to fill with a burning sensation. He felt anger and it overpowered sorrow. Anger at himself for letting it happen, anger at Arayoch and the demons, anger the gods who did nothing to stop it. In the cold of the night anger kept him warm like a fire burning within. He knew he needed to get stronger, to survive and to make weapons for war against the demons. He didn’t care if he had to take down entire legions alone. No matter how many times he died he would come back. He swore to himself, to all the people of his world, the people who died at Kharos that night and those who still lived under the demon rule. He swore he would end it.
Despite the resolve he had Ripley struggled to survive. Food was difficult to find and his growing body seemed to always be hungry. He began thinking about going to the town and stealing from them. But he feared getting caught and executed again. He needed to learn the language as well, so at some point he would need to see people and communicate. For now he focused on making tools that would allow him to survive here. He assumed that this world had seasons much like his own; therefore it would get colder at some point. There were some bricks that had fallen from the tower, if he had something to use as mortar he could rebuild bits of the wall to provide more cover as well as shelter.
Using rope to tie the knife to a long stick he tried spearing a fish in the water. He was too slow. After several failed attempts he fell on the grass exhausted, stomach growling. If only he could cut the fish off from the deeper part and trap them in the shallows. That’s when he remembered the bricks. They were heavy and the distance from the tower was quite long. He built a small dam. There were a few small fish trapped in the shallows of the stream, but the big one had swum away. Finally he manages to spear one. After struggling with the fire and cooking it he was more disappointed than anything. The fish was mostly bones and hardly any meat. But the bones could be useful for making needles or hooks. If he had a fishing rod he was certain he could catch bigger fish. If only he had some something to use as a line since rope was much too thick for the tiny fishbone hooks.
After a week of barely surviving and failing to make any improvement on his living conditions Ripley began to wonder if death was a better option. Perhaps in another world he would not be a child. Perhaps he would have better luck in communicating. Or perhaps he would just die and never return to life again. It was this that stopped him from giving up completely. He has gone further from the tower than he has ever dared before. There is danger in getting lost and not finding his way back but something felt like it’s drawing him to a certain direction. Then he hears it- a cry. It’s not human and weak. Moving carefully he sees a rabbit caught in a trap, rope around it’s leg. He takes his knife, the only weapon and the best tool he has. Listening for people or predators lured by the cry he slowly approaches. The rabbit looks at him. He can see the fear in those dark eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
He was never a fan of hunting but now he needed to survive more than anything. He was not hunting for sport- his life depended on his ability to eat on a regular basis. The fur of the animal would be useful as well. Kneeling beside the animal he brought the knife down with a shaking hand. It was not his first kill, but he had never used a knife before.
It was soon after he finished his first prototype gun. Somebody had broken into his house. Seeing the burglar there he pulled the trigger without really thinking. He thought the man would be scared of this weapon that had not even existed minutes before. He thought it would scare him off but instead he shot him dead. Seeing the man gasp and clutch his chest, then collapse as blood began pooling under him made Ripley drop the gun. He ran to the man only to find that he had no pulse. It made him feel sick and cold. He looked at the gun on the ground and his own hands, realizing that he had made something horrible. But it was far too late. Tomorrow he will have to give it over for to be mass produced. The enemy forces were advancing on them and this weapon was their only hope. Weapons were meant to kill, yet somehow all this felt so incredibly wrong. If only he had listened to that feeling. If he had destroyed the gun, like had wanted to do. Perhaps they would have lost the war but at least the planet would still be there.
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
He discovered there were more traps in the area. Traps meant hunters or poachers visited here from time to time. He was afraid that if he began to take animals regularly they would take notice. But at the same time this was the best source of food he had for now. The thought occurred of making his own traps but he had no experience with such things. So he takes the dead rabbit and heads back to the tower. Never having skinned an animal before he struggles with it. He has some idea how it’s supposed to be done but actually doing is a lot more difficult. He made sure the rabbit had bled out back in the clearing as to not leave a trail that could lead people or wild animals back to his home. Gutting it and trying to separate from what could be used and what was not. The guts though small could be useful if dried. The fur is small but with more rabbits and he could be able to make something to keep him warm in winter. He’d have to figure where to dry the pelts and the guts before they could be used. Ripley gathered up the organs in another helmet and did his best to carry them further away. Pushed some crates so they would block the light of the fire. He still struggled to make it but most of the time kept embers from the last fire alive so it would be easier to relight. The hearth already a split for roasting, though the rabbit was much smaller and he had to tie it to keep it on.
The tower had a third floor but a lot of it was collapsed and getting up there was difficult. Ripley wanted to check it out and use as a possible storage. The first floor was too easy to get into, animals or people could just walk in. The second floor where he slept had a lot of crates full of metal he couldn’t move. The remaining part of the third floor was hard to get to.
He made a makeshift ladder from the boards and nails from the crates, It was strong enough to support the weight of a child but would need a more reliable way for the future. He found a room that was still intact. The room had no light and he stumbled upon something in the dark. As he adjusted to the dim light coming in thought the doorway Ripley realized that something was actually the skeletal remains of someone. There were chains and shackles on the floor, old remnants of boots and clothes, books and old decaying scrolls, very few were still readable but he was exited none the less.
At first he thought about giving the remains a proper burial but then an idea came to him. The people in this world were primitive and superstitious; perhaps he could use that to his advantage. It didn’t take much for them to believe that Ripley was a witch, so how hard could it be to convince them that the tower was hunted? With some ropes, rags and a skeleton that would not be hard to do. Stuck inside the body of a child he could not hope to fight the adults but if he could scare them off he wouldn’t have to fight. Once he acquired more bones from animals he could make more elaborate ways to scare.
Feeling good about the idea he set out to check the traps again, only this time he had no luck. Grabbing a spear he carved out of a long stick Ripley headed for the river. After what felt like hours of splashing in cold water he finally was able to spear a big one. He could barely feel his legs as he walked back but for one night he was finally able to eat his fill and still have some left for tomorrow.
The next day found him shivering in the cold like usual. It was foggy and damp. He forced himself up and decided to go check the traps. He must have gotten disorientated in the fog and take a wrong turn because he ended up in an unfamiliar clearing. Looking around he found carvings made into the wood that looked man made. There were more traps in the area, not just loop traps but metal ones too. There was a strange bird stuck in one. He took it. The creature was already dead, in size about the same as a chicken; it seemed to be aquatic judging from its webbed feet. Ripley didn’t really care; it looked plump and good enough to eat. He knew that somebody would notice if he kept taking animals but he didn’t have another way to get food at the moment. Fishing was unreliable as some days there would hardly be any fish in the stream. On sunny day catching fish was a good option but if it was cloudy there usually wouldn’t any. He could make arrows from wood and bone but he didn’t have a bow to shoot from, if he did he could hunt his own meals. Sadly he lacked the knowledge of how to make a bow. So for the time being he settled for stealing. The bird feathers will make for a nice pillow, once the fish and rabbit guts dried and he could use them for thread.
It went on for a time. He would take animals from the traps, but only one and then wait for a couple of days. Ripley noticed the traps have been moved after some time but managed to find them again. Then one night he noticed fire in the distance. It was not big and wasn’t spreading. That meant somebody was there. He felt that whoever was out there was a threat to him. There were only few things it could be: hunters, bandits or poachers. Ripley was fairly certain bandits had used the tower he was now inhabiting as a hideout some time ago. So he could not think of a reason why they would not come here where there was shelter and better cover from being seen. Bandits would have definitely come here; poachers who would be hunting illegally probably would have done the same. It had to be hunters from the town Rider mentioned. Ripley was tempted to go over there and see how many there were. Perhaps he could wait for them to fall asleep and take a few things.
He got down in the dark and slowly began moving towards the fire. Doing his best to not make noise, and he managed quite well.
The tents they set up were visible from where he hid behind the rocks. Then he began to feel nervous, wondering if they had dogs. He had not heard any barking neither during the day nor during his sneak here. Surely if there had been dogs they would have sensed him and made noise. He waited and listened carefully. There was the sound of the wood crackling, no voices or movement. Perhaps the camp was empty.
Moving a little bit closer he could hear the unmistakable sound of snoring. At least one of them was asleep and from the lack of sound the others were either not here or asleep as well. Feeling bolder he walked closer to none of the tents. Through the fabric he could the shape of a person inside. Hoping they were all asleep he moved towards the fire. Passing through the front of the tent he picked up a smell of alcohol.
This made him feel even more certain that they would not wake up and if he was quick, he could get all he needed and get away. Ripley really wanted a bow. He wouldn’t have to steal from the traps if he could hunt. It worried him that the hunters might have their bows inside the tents. Thankfully they didn’t. Looking around he saw one hung on a branch. Another resting against the log by the fire.
He took the smaller one by the fire. Then looked around for some food they might have left behind carelessly. There was some half eaten bread and a half flask of vine, which he took. Alcohol had many uses.
He didn’t run, that would have made sound. Carefully he took light steps back into the woods. He made sure to avoid naked ground that could leave prints. It had not rained a while and the ground was quite dry but he still wanted to avoid leaving traces.
He made some preparations in case they came looking for the items. Ripley removed all the ash from the fire place. Climbing up the ladder he pulled it up and out of sight. His plan was simple- stay quiet and don’t let them know he was there.
The very first time he had gotten to the top floor by scaling a wall. After he made the ladder Ripley removed some bricks to make it impossible to climb the wall.
He had food and things to keep him busy so he hid in the room at the highest point. Mixing the ash he brought with the vine he made ink. The large tail feathers from the bird could be used for writing. He made some paper from the linen rags he found by soaking it in water for a long time.
Ripley wrote down the words he knew in this world’s language. They added up to around 100. Mostly nouns. Then he wrote down the words he knew but didn’t know the meaning of. And then the words he wanted to know. Things he would need for his guns. To get them he would need to know what they are called here.
On another sheet he began listing things he needed and things he knew existed in this world.
His work was interrupted by shouts. The hunters have broken camp and were coming this way. Ripley assured himself he was safe. They could not see him hidden there under the window. The walls blocked him from view and there was no way up to where he was unless they brought a ladder. He doubted they had one.
As he peeked through the gaps in the brick he saw three men, they were hesitating to approach. After looking at the ruins of the tower for a while one of them walked to look around the first floor. The other two moved a little closer and said something to him. Ripley wrote it down. He had never heard it before.
The braver one noticed the wall. There were gaps in it, making it look like you can climb it. So he tried. Almost immediately one of the bricks came loose and he fell. Ripley had loosened it on purpose. The other two moved closer and called out to him. One gesturing to come back. He did. Then when he was further away he gave the ruins one long glance then walked away after his friends.
Ripley remained in his hiding spot the whole day to be safe. He sharpened some sticks with his knife trying to make arrows. He still needed to test them but that could wait till morning.
For a while he survives hunting and gathering. He makes shoes and clothes by sewing the furs of his kills together with needles of bone and thread pulled from the rags and made from animal guts. It's primitive and crude but it works. When he feels the air turning cold, Ripley begins to repair the ruins. Gathering bricks scattered around and using a mixture made from crushed river clams and clay he found to keep them in place on top of one another. The brick work is visibly different from the original one but he doesn’t care. Ripley focuses his efforts to cover the fire place from the winds and from sight. Then he also builds a wall to replace the crates.
In the few weeks he has been here no more people showed up.