After gathering himself, Ryan approached the mountain of meat lying in front of him. Using Identify he quickly determined that harvesting the corpse would provide a lot of valuable materials, unfortunately he was in no condition to actually harvest it. Instead, he sent a message to William, informing him of the fight, his status and the location of the corpse.
“You’re an idiot, you know that, right?” was William’s first comment after he had patiently listened to Ryan.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Didn’t expect it to be that difficult. Anyways, you want to send someone over or should I head back to the fortress?”
“I’ll ask for some volunteers. But I suggest you start making your way back along the route Miguel already covered, who knows what kind of scavengers that corpse might attract and you’re in no condition to fight. Be careful, okay?”
“I’ll do that.” Ryan signed off and headed in the direction of the pack he had dropped. Each step sent lances of pain through his shoulder, the slight vibrations causing his splintered bones to grate against one another again and again. Softly swearing Ryan continued doggedly. When he reached the bike and the pack a new dilemma presented itself, there was no way in hell he would be able to hoist the pack onto his shoulders and ride the bike, he could only imagine the pain that would cause. Sighing in defeat, Ryan awkwardly strapped first his bow to the pack and then the pack to the bike’s frame with one hand and then started pushing the bike. His revolver was swinging from the handlebar in its holster, the easiest place to reach he could think of and each step by painful step it swung around like a hypnotising metronome.
Ryan, grinding his teeth in agony, kept his attention on the surroundings so that he spotted the lone biker approaching him from the front as soon as the bike barrelled around the next corner. Relief was short lived, Miguel was bleeding from a variety of injuries and Ryan drew his revolver immediately as soon as he saw that Miguel frantically kept looking back towards where he had come from.
Fluttering around the corner with a vengeance came a sight Ryan would have never believed possible to inspire fear in anything but grubs and worms. A guinea fowl, missing one wing and trailing small amounts of blood, was raising an abominable racket chasing down the fleeing Miguel. Remembering his encounter with the crazed cock on the farm, Ryan raised his Revolver, unsteadily aiming in the direction of the duo. He couldn’t get a clear shot, especially given the unsteadiness following his injury and had to watch impotently as the two came ever closer. Miguel had gained some ground and braked to a rapid halt in front of Ryan.
“Give me the gun. Now!” he panted. Ryan obliged him and Miguel smoothly swivelled around, levelling the .38 Special and pumped several rounds into the fowl while repeatedly exclaiming “Motherfucker, fucking motherfucking fucker” before the chamber revolved onto a spent casing and the trigger pulls resounded only in several empty clicks. The guinea fowl was most definitely dead, its hole riddled corpse bleeding out in a quickly spreading pool of red on black tar.
Hesitant, Ryan asked: “Sooooo, what happened?”
“I got ambushed by about fifteen of these vicious fuckers. God, it hurts. I took them down until I ran out of ammo, then used my knife until I managed to break it. That was the last one.”
“I feel you, got attacked by a cock. Uuuhm, bad choice of words, I guess. That monster deflected .22LR bullets with his feathers. Scary stuff. Wouldn’t want to face fifteen mad chickens, no way.”
Still panting, Miguel started smirking at Ryan, before he broke out into deep laughter, gasping for breath. Ryan joined him for a second, but then groaned in pain. “Fuck, my shoulder.” It took a while before Miguel had sufficiently calmed down so that they could resume conversation, where they both agreed that they would wait for the harvesting party that should soon join them. In the meantime, it would probably be best if they found a safer vantage point to rest for a spell so they moved into the shade of a large tree, growing on a small hill next to the road.
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“Ryan, can I ask you for a favour?” Miguel asked sometime later.
“Hmmm, yeah?”
“I have basic proficiency with ranged weapons, would you mind instructing me on the use of a bow once where back. I know how to shoot a rifle, but we’re running out of ammo and have no way to replenish our stocks. I figure a bow is quieter as well and more suited for a scout. Ooh, and it probably would be good if we trained with melee weapons as well, just in case. Everybody should. And we need to start crafting. And cultivating. And everything…” Miguel’s gushed presentation petered out after a moment when he realised the enormity of the obstacle the group was facing.
Ryan considered Miguel’s monologue. Yes, Classes and Skills were great, but the basic proficiencies they provided wouldn’t help them with long term survival in a hostile world. Not without further training at least. Few of their group would be capable to survive combat and the crutch they had relied on, their overwhelming firepower, was reliant on a production chain and resources that simply weren’t available anymore. Ryan considered that they would need to refine their approach, continue training and improving in strength and levels, so that they could ensure their survival. Picturing a world returning to a system of middle aged feudalism, Ryan shuddered in horror imagining what it would be like to be weak and powerless under the rule of supernatural overlords.
He hadn’t answered Miguel’s question, he realised observing the young man’s worried expression, so with conviction he stated: “Yes, I’ll train you. And yes, we will all train.”
They both went quiet after that, each lost in their own thoughts. They’d have to have everyone train with some kind of melee weapon, ensuring that nobody was defenceless. He’d take the matter up with the council, it would need to be enforced. Depending on everyone’s chosen professions, he might also need to invest time into smithing, crafting weapons. In particular, he wanted to strengthen his selection of compound bows. With his new strength the draw weight was negligible and if he could improve their effectiveness it would be a great boon. They would have to make an excursion to town, collect more resources, especially tools. If possible, Ryan wanted to kill the people holding other’s slave at gun point, but that was an ambitious goal, according to their rough count they were greatly outnumbered by the smaller gang alone. Although their stockpile of resources would be helpful, he mused.
Ryan planned out several possible scenarios of the near future, not coming to any definitive conclusions before his frantic musing was interrupted by the arrival of a boisterous group. Quickly surrounded by Carmen, Alexis, Jaco and Mike, he could only sheepishly return Alexis’ disapproving frown.
“So, I leave you alone for a few days and you just manage to severely maim yourself again.” She turned to Miguel, “You too, is Ryan a bad influence on you?” she smirked before starting to heal him. Ryan was left to suffer some more before Alexis deigned to inspect his wounds. Her verdict “You’ll have to wait until I can operate on you, you don’t want to heal your bones like this. I do not have a mend bone Skill and from what I can determine, the bone will regrow in its current configuration with simple healing, leaving you crippled.”
While Mike, Carmen and Jaco headed off to harvest some of the rhino’s bounty, Ryan and Miguel, following a furious mother hen, started on the way back to the fortress. The near unbearable pain of his shoulder, growing stiffer by the minute, caused Ryan to ask if Alexis had brought some pain meds. Relenting, she handed him two pills, adding “I thought you’d never ask. Men and their stubbornness.” Quietly, Ryan grumbled to himself. “I didn’t think to ask.”
They hadn’t reached the fortress by the time the three butchers caught up to them again. Ryan was glad for the reinforcements, as the sun was setting and at their current speed they would only reach the safe haven after nightfall. He wasn’t looking forward to trudging through the dark, but considering that he was at fault for their slow pace, hadn’t anybody to blame. Spontaneously, he piped up and thanked the group for sticking with him, grateful that he had friends that could be relied on.