//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: The Lone Centurion // Story: The Centurion Project // by TheEighthDayofNight //------------------------------// Journal Entry Day 1123 This is probably a stupid question to think about now, but I wonder if most people know what it's like to get stabbed. Maybe if most people knew is a better question (since ya know, most people are kind of absolutely fucking dead). Still, I have got to say, not a huge fan of it, especially if you get stabbed anywhere in the chest. Barring the fact that you’re probably gonna die cause the chest is where the heart and lungs are (kinda important), but it just feels like you’re gonna die even if you aren’t. Your heart pounds, you can’t remember how to breathe right cause your flipping shit thinking “oh no! I’ve been stabbed!” Overall, it is not a pleasant experience. If anyone ever reads these fucking things, being stabbed; 1/10. Much more fun to light your arm hair on fire, 'cause at least that grows back. Elias felt the breath drive itself out of his lungs as his back impacted the unforgiving ground. He saw stars as his head connected shortly after. He groaned and fumbled at the clasp of his helmet. As soon as he unhooked the clip, he tossed the plumed helm to his left as he clutched the back of his head, trying to make the sharp pain go away. He felt something wet on his fingertips, though if it was sweat or blood, he couldn't tell. Elias mentally stopped for a moment, then ran his fingers through his hair again, wincing as he grazed what was no doubt a concussion. Pain. Dead people didn’t feel pain. Elias opened his eyes and was greeted with the sight of dark foliage above his head. That wasn’t right. The anomaly had cleared the landscape around it; he should have seen the same starless skies as always, not leaves. Elias rubbed the back of his head; if his head hurt, then he may have hallucinated the whole thing as a result of some tragic head injury. The attack, the bloody revenge, the chase. All a figment of his imagination. For a second hope flickered in his chest, and Elias attempted to sit up to take stock of his surroundings, only to be driven back down by a sharp pain in his right lung. As he stared at the arrow protruding from his chest plate, Elias quickly made the realization that his stupid optimism was dead wrong. He sighed and laid back. So much for that thought. It had all happened, including the part where he had been driven off a cliff and into an anomaly. How he wasn’t dead was a mystery. The fall alone should have broken his spine, and that didn’t take into account the anomaly, which should have torn him apart in a horrific and violent manner. So why was he still breathing? The why and how of his survival could wait for now, Elias decided. He needed to be more concerned with the what and where. The first thing being the pair of what’s currently sticking out of his chest and leg respectively. Elias looked around, and spotted his pack lying a few feet away. Moving carefully to avoid agitating the arrows, he scooted along the ground on his backside. Those few feet exhausted him, and he struggled to breathe in a way that wouldn’t drive the arrow in his chest any deeper. Already he could feel it poking at his lung when he took too deep of a breath. Elias dragged his ruck sack to his side and briefly touched the pair of arrows sticking out of it. He opened the top flap and began carefully rifling through the bag’s contents, guiding himself primarily by touch. He was lucky, one of the arrows had gone clean through the bag without piercing anything, stopping only when it had hit the armor on his back. He quickly snapped the head off of the arrow and withdrew the shaft from his ruck, discarding it to the side. He then pushed aside his spare tunics and underwear, and found where the second arrow had embedded itself. The arrow had fully impaled his worn copy of Sun Tzu, and the tip of it poked at his rolls of gauze; perfect. Elias retrieved the gauze, choosing to leave the second arrow where it was; he could always deal with it later. Elias dragged himself so that he was propped up on a tree, then decided he would deal with the most dangerous injury first. If he messed it up, at least he would die in less pain than if he started with the leg injury first. He withdrew his lighter from its pouch on his belt, flicked it to life, then balanced it in his lap. With the small flame as his light source, he got a slightly better look at the wound in his chest. The arrow itself was embedded at least to the head; but Elias couldn’t really tell with his armor obscuring it. Blood seeped from the wound, so he knew it made some sort of contact. The odd thing was that the fletching of the arrow looked lightly charred, like someone had left it a little too close to a campfire. Didn’t matter. He could study it further once it was out his chest. Elias had some cursory medical training, but how to take care of an arrow the right way was beyond him. He imagined the tip was barbed, which made simply pulling it out a fantasy. Even if he managed to not gouge a hole in his chest, it would ruin his mail and plate armor. As he weighed the merits of sacrificing his armor for his health, his hand brushed the arrow shaft, sending a jolt of pain through his chest, stopping his breath short. Elias choked for a moment before he was able to fully come back to his senses. Yes, removal was definitely out. Which left the second option, break the shaft, bind the wound, and pray that he found a kind enough soul to remove the head properly before some freak accident drove it all the way into his lung and he drowned in his own blood. Elias took as deep of a breath as he dared before he placed his right hand firmly around the shaft where it protruded from his armor. He gritted his teeth as another jolt of pain shocked through his chest, but ignored it and grabbed the rest of the shaft in his left hand. He counted to three, but broke the shaft on two. He squeezed his eyes shut and panted hard as he rode out the wave of pain that followed, coursing from his chest to his leg and back up again. Elias waited a few seconds before he opened his eyes again to look at his handiwork. His right hand was still firmly holding the remains of the arrow in place while his left clutched the shattered shaft. Blood seeped through his fingers, but ultimately, the head of the arrow didn’t feel like it was any deeper in his chest. Elias dropped the broken shaft and did his best to pack gauze into the wound in a way that he would be able to move without driving it deeper. Once he was satisfied that the arrow wasn’t in immediate danger of killing him, he turned his attention to the one in his calf. Somehow, the arrow had slipped past his leg guard without damaging it. It had only just barely stuck in his leg If it had been any farther to the right, it may have flat out missed. As it was, removal was much easier, especially given that the tip was already beginning to poke out of his flesh. Gritting his teeth, Elias pressed on the fletching and pushed the arrow the rest of the way through his skin. Once the blood-soaked head was fully out, Elias snapped off it off and pulled the shaft out the entrance of the wound. He then quickly bound the leg tightly, using the last of his gauze roll to do so. Elias did his best to wipe the blood from his hands on the grass, and then, grabbing his lighter, he made his first attempt to stand. He used the tree at his back as a brace, and pushed himself to his feet, his left-hand clutching at his chest. That simple action was enough to drive the breath from his lungs. His injured leg held his weight, but just barely. He needed a safe place to rest, and he needed it badly. Even if he had somehow escaped from the raider gangs pursuing him, hungry animals would be able to smell his blood for miles and would relish at the chance for an easy meal. In his current state, that was all he was, a meal. Using the dim light from his lighter, Elias repacked his bag and then dragged the ruck back to where he had left his helmet. Beside the discarded helm sat his scutum, its steel boss reflecting his pitiful light source. Elias dropped his ruck next to it and moved to retrieve his helmet. Blackness swamped his vision as he overbalanced, and his leg gave out beneath him. Elias collapsed, his face quickly meeting the dirt, his breath wheezing as sharp pain arced across his body. Long, agonizing coughs coursed through his chest as he tried vainly to recover. Briefly, Elias tasted blood in his mouth. Eventually, after several painful minutes of coughing, Elias could breathe again. He was much worse off than he had initially thought. His body wouldn’t hold out long enough to find shelter. Elias rolled over and took a deep breath. Not bothering to find his lighter, he blindly fumbled for the straps on his bag, and upon finding it, he dragged it to his side. He then slid his left arm through the straps of his shield and laid it over his chest, the right side resting on his ruck sack. With this single piece of protection, Elias quickly drifted off into a dreamless sleep. ***** Bright sunlight stabbed at his eyes as Elias awoke with a ragged cough. It sounded wet, and he couldn't help but notice that each and every cough made the arrow stab just a little deeper into his chest. He wheezed as he brought his breathing under control. Shoving his shield off of his chest, Elias covered his weary eyes with his hand. He didn’t move for several minutes, and had it been a perfect world, he imagined that he wouldn’t move ever again. But as things stood… With a groan, Elias sat up, his hand drifting to his chest wound. In the morning light, the center of the bandage glistened red, but so far it hadn’t soaked completely through. The bandage around his leg was in a similar condition. He knew that he should change the bandages, but if he remembered correctly, he only had two rolls of gauze left. He grunted as he scooted his ruck onto his knees, his mind occupied with trying to remember what he had left. Better to check than to guess. Elias opened the bag and methodically removed everything inside. In total, Elias still had all of his armor, his shield, and his gladius, as well as a single hand grenade. From the bag came a spare tunic and underwear, a full change of “normal” clothes, steel toed boots, and a pair of worn sandals. Toward the bottom of the bag sat his journals, most of them damaged in some way. Out too came Sun Tzu, and the Complete Roman Army, as well as his other rolls of gauze. These he stacked on top of his sandals. Elias froze when his hand drifted across a familiar piece of cloth. His throat tightened as he removed his old legion standard, its brilliant golden eagle shining despite the bloodstains painting it. He took a deep breath, and with great care placed it on top of his stack journals. He looked away from the bit of cloth for a moment, taking several more deep breaths before continuing his check. With the inner pockets empty, Elias moved onto the outer pockets, finishing his inventory by emptying the small pockets, which contained a half empty flask of whiskey, four cigarettes, a pair of binoculars with one functioning lens, and a bag of moldy jerky. His canteens were gone. The pocket that had held them was scorched beyond recognition. Elias bit his tongue in thought for a moment, then quickly repacked his ruck sack, his first task clear. A healthy person could die of dehydration within days, and with his wounds leaking as they were, water needed to be a priority. As he moved to cinch the top of his ruck, Elias slipped the grenade from his belt and tucked it between his spare clothes. It was his last one, and he needed to conserve it for an emergency. With his pack whole again, Elias got to his feet slowly. He tied both his shield and helmet to the ruck sack, then, with great care, Elias slid the straps over his shoulders, tightening them so that it would move as little as possible. He did one last gear check, and then set off in the direction of the rising sun. The raider camps had been to the west, and he needed time to rest and refit before he began harassing them again. East was the best option. As he walked, Elias shut out all noise as he tried to listen for the sound of rushing water. He also kept an eye out for any game trails that might lead to fresh water. While animals had a tendency to be rare, those that struggled on needed to drink. Hours passed before Elias spotted a dirt path winding through the forest. He slipped into the brush by the side of the trail, and crouching as low as his injuries allowed, investigated the trail. The path was well worn, with dozens of animal tracks crossing it. To his eyes, it looked almost akin to one of the old hiking trails that still clung on in the long abandoned national parks. This trail however, contained no distinguishable shoe prints. What confused Elias was that it did seem to have hoof prints similar to that of a horse. Elias had never seen a live horse before, since by the time he was out in the world by himself, most had been eaten or ridden to death. His only knowledge about them came from the books he scavenged. He gazed up the trail, his eyes following it as it winded deeper into the forest. Maybe some extremely lucky people had holed up in the forest and just lived off the land, keeping the horses alive against the odds. Elias frowned and stared back at trail in front of him. That thought didn’t completely explain why there were no human prints. In theory, they would need to walk at some point, and when they did, they would follow a trail like the one before him. Unsure of what his findings meant, Elias decided to play it safe, and retreated into the trees, getting so he could only barely see the trail. He then followed it to his left, the terrain slowly declining. Easier to find water in lowlands, he reasoned. Elias walked for less than half an hour along the trail, stopping frequently to catch his breath. Initially, he had been able to ignore his wounds, the adrenaline he felt in his quest for water more than enough to keep him going; but the longer he walked, the more agitated the injuries became. The one in his leg had become especially painful, blood finally soaking through the bandage. A red stream trickled down his leg and had begun pooling in his sandal. Elias leaned against a tree as he checked the injury, ensuring that the binding wasn’t slipping. He ran his fingers over the blood-soaked bandage with a look of disgust, cursing his luck. He had wanted to save his extra gauze for once he found water, but with the blood seeping through as much as it was... Elias swore silently again. If he had a stable source of clean water, he could always boil the bandages and use them over and over until he found someone who could help him, but the wound wouldn't be ignored and couldn't wait. He shook his head in exasperation at the state of the bandage, sighing as he began to slide his ruck off. Elias held his breath and froze as the pack was half way off his shoulders. He had thought he had heard… there. The sound was almost covered by the birds whistling in the trees, but he could just faintly hear voices, and what sounded to him like laughter. If anyone was that care-free, that likely meant they were settled nearby. If they were settled that meant they had a water supply. A trace of a grin flashed across his face as an optimistic thought crept in. If they were happy enough to laugh, they may be healthy enough to do so, which meant they just might have the medical supplies, or if his luck held, a doctor, that he so desperately needed. Elias left the trail and instead followed the sound of the noise. He had to pause occasionally to relocate the sound, but after a few minutes, it was loud enough that he was able to track it easily. He quickened his pace, ignoring the sharp jolts of pain shooting up his leg and through his chest. Ahead, the trees lightened, the sun all but erasing the shade the forest provided. Elias stopped short of these trees, intelligent thought returning. He had no idea what kind of people he was about to sprint headlong into. As far as he knew, the raiders had broken camp when they didn’t find his body and that laughter was them celebrating their escape from him. His eyes narrowed at the thought, and he crouched low. Elias withdrew his broken binoculars from his belt and crept forward, moving from tree to tree. In front of him, the trees broke, and a cursory glance displayed green fields surrounding a watering hole. Elias picked a tree on the edge of the forest line and crouched behind it so that only his head could be seen. He then brought his broken binoculars to his eyes and took in the landscape. He started with what was far away. Over a small hill, Elias saw what he thought were thatch rooftops, indicating a town of some kind. That was a good sign. Raiders didn’t create towns, and they certainly didn’t build them from nothing. The hillside itself was covered with thick green grass, greener than anything he had seen in ages. It looked almost untouched. Below the hillside sat his target, the shores of the most beautiful pond he had ever seen. He finally acknowledged the aching dryness in his mouth with a lick of his dry lips, and he almost started forward, just barely curbing his desperate thirst with the knowledge that he still hadn’t put eyes on the source of the voices. Almost as if on cue, Elias spotted a small herd of horses sitting in the shade of a solitary tree. The colors on them seemed strange though. From all he had heard and read about, horses had largely natural color tones, ranging from muted reds to an array of deep browns, but these horses were all wrong. The colors ranged widely, two were white, but their manes were purple and blue respectively. Another was as blue as the sky, with an array of different colors decorating its head and back like a rainbow. Finally, a bright pink one seemed to bounce around in the shade chasing what looked like a small lizard, while a purple one sat relaxed on a blanket reading a book. Elias coughed in disbelief and slipped fully behind the tree. He checked his wounds, as well as his pulse. The bandages had been soaked clean through, but his pulse was still strong, nowhere near where it needed to be for him to be experiencing vivid hallucinations. Everything seemed to click into place, and Elias felt his eyes widen as he looked around. He hadn't noticed, he had just been so focused, but he realized how different the forest around him looked. Not a single tree looked malformed or damaged in any way. All of the grass, including the patch under his feet was lush, showing no signs of being browned with radiation. The air itself was bursting with the sounds of birdsong, something that only happened on the rarest of occasions. The sun itself seemed brighter, unobscured by the grey smog of a blasted world. The sky was so blue it was almost painful to look at. The air even smelled cleaner. Elias froze for a moment, his mind struggling to process what his senses were telling him. He spun back around and brought his binoculars back to his eyes, seeking out the multi-colored horses again. Most of them were watching the pink one, except for the white one with blue hair, who seemed to be looking around for potential threats. The pink one seemed to be convulsing in a strange manner. Elias felt the breath in his chest stop when he realized that the pink horse was pointing directly at him. There was nothing but forest around him, and one of the legs was pointed right at his chest. Hundreds of yards away and the horse was just pointing at him. The rest began looking in his direction, but none seemed to have the unnerving focus of the pink one. Moving as quietly as possible, Elias slipped back from the edge of the trees. He crawled backwards on his belly until he felt he had put enough distance between himself and the treeline, then he got to his feet and made a beeline deeper into the forest. Water was now a secondary priority. Whatever creatures those were, they weren’t normal horses. Maybe they existed in a pocket of radiation and had mutated to have enhanced senses. A wild guess, but he didn’t know, and he didn’t care. What mattered was getting far away, then he could focus on finding water.