Chapter 9.
Battle
Forty-Six Years Post Apocalypse
Leo remembered...
Leo heard a faint rustling from the grass. When the source of the rustling got close enough, his oversized, dirty hand lashed out with superhuman speed and grabbed it. The rat squeaked as it tried to escape. He bit the creature's head off, squeezing the blood into his mouth, then proceeded to eat the thing raw.
Even in this day and age, he could usually find the occasional tuber, candy bar, or freeze-dried food package, but fresh protein was hard to come by and his body craved it desperately.
His plan was simple. Runners were like bloodhounds. If there were any surviving humans in the area, they'd find them. He would then kill the runners, saving the day, and join the humans. Simple. He'd been alone in the wastelands for over a month. He was desperate for human contact. Any human contact.
He'd been following a small pack of Afflicted runners, being careful to stay downwind of them. If they spotted him or caught his scent, they'd hunt him. He'd have to kill them and find another pack.
A sad looking old billboard watched over the long unused highway. He could barely make out the words.
THE ONE WITH THE MOST
WINS
A popular advertising slogan selling some long forgotten product before everything fell apart.
There was an inhuman scream in the distance. The alpha runner of the pack Leo was following perked up and let out an answering scream, its mouth opening wider than any mouth had the right to. “Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
His pack started running towards the other, more distant, screamer.
Runners were stupid, but they had a basic vocabulary. That scream meant a group of humans had been found, but they were too tough for the runners on the scene to handle. The scream was to summon reinforcements. Every Afflicted in this area would converge on the original screamer.
Unless the human group could escape, they were fucked.
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He followed the pack down the highway into what had once been a small town. Scavengers had long since picked it clean of anything useful. He should know.
***
The Afflicted runners surrounding a rundown abandoned house made it obvious that this was where humans were hiding.
At least ten of the surrounding runners were dead. From the looks of it, their heads had exploded, blood and pieces of their bodies lying all over what had been a yard. The humans must have at least one implant wearer. Maybe more.
Leo approached quietly. He'd been unnoticed so far, but that could change fast.
He activated his implant's time-dilation special skill, giving himself a quick three-second burst.
This was the most useful skill he'd picked up from the implant. After forty-six years, he'd managed to work his way up to Time-Dilation level 10:
Increase your personal time flow to ten times that of everyone around you. For every second that passes in the outside world, ten seconds will pass for you.
Everything around him slowed way down. Flying insects were still. Sounds changed, becoming distorted. The Afflicted runners' screeches became jagged and lower-pitched.
He sprinted forward, moving at ten times his normal pace. Thanks to his high agility level, this meant he charged a group of Afflicted runners at over two hundred miles an hour. Grabbing his sword, he chopped off the first runner's head before it knew what hit it. Same with the second and third. The fourth and fifth had just enough time to turn around and raise their arms before following the first three into whatever passed for these filthy creatures' afterlife.
He backed away, his plan being to find cover and hide for the thirty-second cool-down. There was movement in the corner of his eye. A large clawed hand came out of nowhere and slammed into his side like a speeding truck, sending him flying over thirty feet.
Ow. That blow would have killed a normal human. With his strength and vitality, it just hurt a lot. His bruises and cracked ribs would heal in a few hours. However, surviving that long might be problematic.
His time dilation wore off while he was flying. His surroundings sped up again, and he hit the ground, hard. Bounced. Hit the ground again. Jumping to his feet, he ran for his life, followed by screams of the Afflicted.
So much for finding cover. He cursed himself for not noticing the Low-Level Boss Afflicted. He'd seen it, but thought it was just another large, heavily armored runner. A Boss was another matter entirely. Even Low-Level Bosses were strong, fast, and smart. He knew this was a Low-Level Boss because he was still alive. A High-Level Boss would have killed him instantly.
He checked his cool-down time. 21 seconds. Shit. Not even close.
He ran like a terrified mouse trying to escape a hungry cat, desperate to find cover, turning unpredictably to avoid his larger, faster pursuer. He threw himself under a truck, counting on the much larger Boss being unable to fit underneath. With a roar, the Boss picked up the truck and threw it to the side. Leo ran again, checking the cool-down time. Ten seconds left. A lot could happen in ten seconds.
A rusted-out car flew by, missing him by inches and slamming down on the broken asphalt nearby. He ducked into an alley, then threw himself through a broken window, cutting himself on the glass. He found himself in an old, abandoned house. The Boss didn't even bother with the door, tearing a hole in the wall and coming after him. Leo threw himself out a window on the opposite side of the house. A claw brushed his boot while he was in the air, cutting through its leather and sending him flying into a broken, rusted, wheelbarrow in the abandoned home's backyard.
Leo checked the cool-down time again. Finished.