38 – Watch Your Back

***Congratulations on your victory, Andy! You and your companion have slain an elite enemy! You’ve earned enough experience to advance your Pyroglyph Invoker class to level 4 and earned 1 improvement point!***

“Sweet.” Andy looked at Lucy. “Level?”

She nodded. “Yep. You?” When Andy nodded, she chuckled. “Of course you did.” She reached down and retrieved another of her arrows. “This wasn’t any kind of normal boar—nothing that should live around here.”

“Yeah, this monster isn’t a javelina, that’s for sure.” Andy looked up, staring at the Whistler’s house, waiting for the next shoe to drop. The creep had seen them fighting, so why wasn’t he doing something? “You think he’s sneaking out the back?”

“I don’t know. If he’s responsible for this thing, what if he has more pets inside? Monster dogs or bobcats or…” She trailed off, letting Andy’s imagination pick up where she’d left off.

“Scorpions?” He chuckled ruefully, wishing he hadn’t said it out loud.

“Don’t!” Lucy hissed, slapping his shoulder.

As she pulled out her last arrow, he pointed to the house. “All right, how are we going to do this?”

“I guess…” She frowned, shrugging. “I don’t have a clue.”

Andy nodded, thinking. After a minute, he said, “I want you to go around back. That wash runs behind his property. I have a feeling he might try to run for it. I’ll go through the front and, if he tries to fight me, I’ll deal with him, and if he bolts, you’ll be waiting.”

Lucy shook her head. “You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna let you go in there alone.”

Andy smiled. “The old ‘watch the back door for the bad guy’ isn’t going to work on you?”

“Nope.”

“All right. Let’s both go sneak around back, then. We can even pretend we chickened out and run down the road. We’ll slip into the wash by that culvert.”

Lucy nodded. “Better.”

Together, they jogged down the road, past the Whistler’s house and toward the concrete span of road that crossed the wash—a dry river bed that would fill up with runoff during a heavy rain. It had three big corrugated water channels running under it, ready for the next big monsoon storm.

When they left the road, they were an easy hundred yards from Whistler’s house, and several big mesquites growing along the bank provided plenty of cover as they slipped down the berm into the sandy, dry arroyo. Together, they trudged along, following the near side of the wash, until they saw a little trail.

Lucy pointed. “I bet he uses that to go on nature hikes.”

“You think he’s that kind of guy?”

“All these rich folks do stuff like that. What’s the point of buying an acre lot with a ranch-style home if you’re not out hiking in the desert, staring at the mountains, and trying to find your inner Zen?”

Andy chuckled and shrugged. He couldn’t argue with her. They quietly worked their way up the bank, following the little trail, and sure enough, past a wide-trunked mesquite and a stand of Texas Sage, they could see the reddish-brown stucco of the Whistler’s house. Crouching behind the brush, Andy watched the place.

The house had a back wall, but it was fitted with long, wrought-iron panels that allowed the people within to see out and enjoy the desert’s natural beauty. Those panels also allowed Andy to see in. “Sense anything?” he asked.

“Nothing coming this way, but I definitely feel a little unease as I watch those back windows.”

Andy nodded. The shades were drawn on the windows; he couldn’t see a thing, but he supposed that was good because it meant the Whistler might not notice their approach. He glanced at the sky, but the sun was barely past the halfway point. It wouldn’t be feasible to wait until dark. “You think you could hit something on that back porch from here?”

“Yes.” She looked at him. “You have an idea?”

“I was thinking I could go try to draw him out. I can defend pretty well with my spear, and if he has more pets or other people in there with him, you could give me cover.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Trying to take all the risk.”

“Yeah, I know, but you are better at ranged combat. I don’t want you to get cornered inside the house.”

She nodded. “Fair. I’ll follow you, but at a good distance. How are you going to try to enter?”

“I mean, again, I think it would be better if I could draw him out. Who knows what the asshole’s set up inside?” He pointed toward the wall. “You stand by one of those wrought-iron sections. I’ll go kick the damn door open.”

“Okay. Be careful, and don’t go in without me!”

Andy smiled, gripping his spear as he moved toward a gap in the foliage. “That’s the plan.” He led the way, jogging toward the wall. When he reached it, he leaned his spear against it, then used one of those wrought-iron sections to step up and pull himself over. He quickly grabbed his spear, saw that Lucy was in place with an arrow nocked and ready, then made his way carefully from the fence toward the back door. He took his time, using the landscaping as cover as he approached.

Taken from NovelBin, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

He paused several times, studying the windows, trying to see if anyone was peeking out. He could feel the heat of the sun, hear the buzzing of the desert insects, but he didn’t see any sign of the Whistler or his accomplices in the sunlit glare of the house’s windows.

The Whistler had French doors opening onto his patio, not a sliding glass one. All the blinds were still drawn, and Andy hadn’t noticed anyone peeking through, but he hadn’t exactly been able to keep his eyes on every window as he approached. Still, he was hopeful that he might have caught their nemesis by surprise. Gingerly, he tried the doorknob, found it locked, then took a step back, glancing toward Lucy to make sure she was still okay. She wasn’t there.

For a second, Andy thought maybe she was hunkered behind the wall, but he stared, looking for the top of her bow or for her face to appear as she checked on him. There wasn’t any sign. “Oh, dammit!” he hissed, running back to the wall. When he got there, he confirmed his fear—Lucy was gone.

He froze, scanning the nearby foliage and listening for the slightest of sounds. Nothing was moving out there. He’d only been gone a few seconds—they couldn’t have taken her far! Why couldn’t he hear anything? He looked down at the dirt behind the wall, looking for any signs of…anything. He saw the ground was scuffed, but that could have been from him and Lucy. He let his eyes move along the wall’s shadow toward the corner, and his heart sped up when he saw more scuffs.

Grunting, he practically threw himself over the wall. Still clutching his spear, he sprinted toward the corner. They hadn’t taken her into the desert! They’d brought her around the wall. Why was he thinking in terms of they? He supposed he found it hard to believe that one person could have overpowered Lucy and absconded with her so quickly and quietly that he hadn't noticed. When he reached the corner, he instinctively scanned the side of the house, toward the front yard, but again, he didn’t see anything.

He looked at the ground, staring at the dirt and gravel, looking for more scuffs, and then, to his surprise, the System announced:

***Congratulations, Andy! Out of necessity and intense effort, you’ve gained a rudimentary understanding of the Tracking skill. Keep practicing to gain mana-based enhancements to it!***

More irritated than pleased, Andy swiped the message away. Right before it popped up, he’d noticed a deep scuff in the hard, sunbaked soil. He looked up, scanning the desert in the direction of the mark, and saw, barely visible under the branches of a mesquite, the roof of the next ranch home. Growling, Andy began loping through the desert toward the house.

He made a beeline, leaping prickly pear cacti, charging past a big, overgrown cholla cactus, heedless of the spiny segments all over the ground, and smashing through the hard, scratchy branches of a pair of greasewood shrubs. His reckless charge proved fruitful, and he grinned savagely despite the scratches covering his arms. Two men, carrying Lucy between them, were charging over the gravel side-yard, and one of them was the Whistler.

Andy had tunnel vision for the Whistler as he continued running, gaining fast. He lifted his spear and lunged, just as the men rounded the corner and tried to reach an open garage. His attack was both a success and a colossal failure. The spear hit home, driving through his shoulder and exploding with fire. At the same time, a bow twanged, and Andy saw a woman standing inside the garage holding Lucy’s bow. That was when the pain blossomed in his chest, and he realized he’d been shot.

The Whistler screamed, dropped Lucy, and tumbled onto the driveway, rolling and thrashing in agony. The second man also lost his grip on her, but he whirled, snarling, yanking a knife from his belt. Andy fell back around the corner, gasping as the pain in his chest throbbed, sharp and demanding, like stabbing your finger with a needle multiplied by a thousand. His breaths were short and quick, his vision growing dim and blurry on the edges with panic and pain, but a voice in the back of his head said, “Calm down, dummy. You’re not dead. It didn’t hit your heart. You’re still breathing—it’s not in your lung.”

Narrowing his eyes, some of his panic turning to anger, he lowered his spear and waited to see if one of them would come after him. He wasn’t going to leave Lucy, so, in a way, he hoped they would. They weren’t dumb, though. The guy with the knife didn’t barrel after him. Instead, the woman appeared, further down the driveway, another arrow nocked. Andy was ready this time, and he got to flex some of his improved speed.

Despite the pain, despite the unnerving idea that he was running straight toward another arrow, he charged. He made himself small, leaning over his spear, sprinting with everything he had. He’d counted on surprising her with the action, and he got what he wanted. Her eyes widened, she rapidly drew back the string and released, and the arrow whistled past Andy on the left. Then he was on her, and his spear punched through the center of her chest.

Andy didn’t allow himself to appreciate his victory. He drove past her, as she fell back, dragging the spear with him, ripping it out of her as he went. He knew the other guy would be right behind him, so he kept moving, listening for his feet. When he didn’t hear them, he whirled, whipping his spear through the air to get it between himself and his possible pursuer.

He saw the woman, bleeding out on the driveway, still clutching Lucy’s bow. He saw Lucy, lying still as death, but the two men were gone. Andy peered into the garage, jogging toward Lucy. It was full of stuff—boxes, bags, packs, luggage. A story began to form in the back of his mind as Andy knelt beside Lucy. These guys had been raiding the other houses in the neighborhood. They’d built a coalition of assholes. Why take Sandy, though? Why take Lucy? Andy didn’t want to guess.

Lucy didn’t seem hurt, but she wouldn’t stir when he shook her. He felt her pulse, and it was there, steady, but slow. Had they drugged her? Clubbed her over the head? Andy groaned as he knelt there, a sharp twinge of pain radiating from the arrow in his chest. Looking down, he realized the damn thing had hit a bone—maybe a rib—and angled up, punching out of the soft flesh near his collarbone like a giant safety pin. Despite the lucky break, he grimaced. The damn thing had gone through his pectoral and under it in the process.

Painfully craning his neck, he studied the arrowhead where it poked out of the skin by his collarbone. It was a classically shaped metal head with two razor-sharp blades. He knew he couldn’t pull it back through—the sharp bottom edges would rip him apart. If he pulled from the top, the feathers would be pretty bad, too. If the arrow were made of wood, he could break it off, but it was aluminum or some damn alloy.

Frowning, Andy gripped the arrowhead between his finger and thumb and twisted it counterclockwise. To his delight, it began to unthread. Grunting, sweating, panting in pain, he kept turning until it came off. Then, before he could think twice about it, he gripped the bottom of the arrow and pulled. Sliding that metal shaft out of his flesh was the most horrific thing Andy had ever endured. He could feel it in there, touching parts of him that were never meant to be touched.

The pain almost overwhelmed him, but Andy gritted his teeth and yanked it out the last few inches. Panting with exhausted relief, he had the presence of mind to look around, ensuring the two men hadn’t found the nerve to try to attack him again. He was alone with Lucy’s unconscious body. As he struggled to his feet, trying to come to terms with the best course of action, a System message appeared:

***Congratulations, Andy! You’ve killed a hostile survivor, and in the process, you’ve gained another level (5) in your Pyroglyph Invoker class. You’ve also earned another improvement point and learned a new bound ability: Kindled Bonds.***

***Kindled Bonds – bound: You may now scrawl a burning glyph of binding in the air. A fiery lash will erupt from the ground beneath a target within range, twisting upward like a living flame and ensnaring their legs. The enemy will be snared for up to 7 seconds, unable to move, and will suffer minor fire damage over time. If they attempt to break free early, the lash will flare violently, dealing bonus fire damage. Mana Cost: 50.***