Fields of Rot Read Online Free Page B
Author: Jesse Dedman
other than the skeleton that hung over his shoulders. The colossal was double the size of James Mustang, wore dark rags, and a shattered welding mask of some sort obscured his face.
The most important thing to know, those that read this after I die, is that the skeleton is not of anything from this Earth, unless giants really did once roam the world. He uses it as a weapon, a giant battering ram that does insane amount of damage. It stressed the pavement into craters. It crushed through the boxes, shattered anything wooden, and shook on each collision.
It found us, and trashed the barricades in a matter of seconds. Jack sprayed the thing in the face with this submachine gun and received no noticeable impact. The giant creature knocked Jack away, throwing him to smack against a wall. Grace, frozen in fear, just stared at the monstrosity as it approached. I still don’t trust her, but I couldn’t watch her die, either. I pulled her away from the corner and skimmed by the creature too fast for it to catch us. I stopped to take a shot, and Grace ran to Jack to check up on him.
I unloaded on the thing, and then came the violent counter attacks. Without any end in sight, the monstrosity swung the skeleton around, thrashing through everything in the room. The supporting beams were hit, and our escape took a sudden turn for the worse. When the grated floor collapsed so did we, and the thing leapt down for the kill.
It finally reacted. It stretched out its arms, lifted its chin, and screamed in pain. The monster could feel and bleed, so then he could surely die. The monster turned quickly, knocking away the unknown assailant, and returned for us. The crawl space was cut-off by collapsed material. We were like fish in a barrel as the monster swung down forcefully with his skeletal weapon. The ground around us shook, shattered fragments of metal flung in the air, while smoke rose from the increasing flames. The attacks missed us, protected by a simple piece of metal that his brutal attacks couldn’t seem to hit.
Jack fired a few rounds, nearly grazing me as a consequence. I covered my face as the sounds echoed around me, wreaking my eardrums as I felt my body vibrate to each and every enclosing attack. We were all coughing, wheezing, and struggling for air from all the smoke.
The monster readied itself for another downward thrust--one that promised to shatter through our cover and send us to an early grave—but as it did, something knocked it from the side. The monster screamed as it fell victim to the powerful swing as it dug into his side. The monster turned to react, but the assailant defeated him with a direct hit to the head.
Drenched in blood, armed with a modified bass guitar, James Mustang stood prideful. He reached out for my hand, pulling me out from the suffocating space. He offered a saving hand for Grace, who he hugged as if she already meant something to him. Jack, despite what I knew, received a helpful hand and a thankful rub on the shoulder.
We were fortunate that James Mustang hadn’t died. At least, one of us should have been kissing his feet, but Jack simply said his thanks and tried to move on from it. I pondered then what I ponder now, should I say anything about what happened? Would it matter? I wanted too, and James Mustang saw my worry, but he for some reason associated it to the modification he did to his bass. With pieces of scrap metal grafted to the body, the guitar was now literally an axe. James smiled as he talked about how he managed to find the pieces after surviving that unfortunate moment. He talked the most that night as we waited through the night on a high floor.
James has defied the odds somehow. I hope that luck will stay around when we finally reach the Hell Gate, assuming we’re even going in the right direction.
Entry Twenty-Three, 1/6/15
The walks during the day are become more risky. The streets were once crossable,
The most important thing to know, those that read this after I die, is that the skeleton is not of anything from this Earth, unless giants really did once roam the world. He uses it as a weapon, a giant battering ram that does insane amount of damage. It stressed the pavement into craters. It crushed through the boxes, shattered anything wooden, and shook on each collision.
It found us, and trashed the barricades in a matter of seconds. Jack sprayed the thing in the face with this submachine gun and received no noticeable impact. The giant creature knocked Jack away, throwing him to smack against a wall. Grace, frozen in fear, just stared at the monstrosity as it approached. I still don’t trust her, but I couldn’t watch her die, either. I pulled her away from the corner and skimmed by the creature too fast for it to catch us. I stopped to take a shot, and Grace ran to Jack to check up on him.
I unloaded on the thing, and then came the violent counter attacks. Without any end in sight, the monstrosity swung the skeleton around, thrashing through everything in the room. The supporting beams were hit, and our escape took a sudden turn for the worse. When the grated floor collapsed so did we, and the thing leapt down for the kill.
It finally reacted. It stretched out its arms, lifted its chin, and screamed in pain. The monster could feel and bleed, so then he could surely die. The monster turned quickly, knocking away the unknown assailant, and returned for us. The crawl space was cut-off by collapsed material. We were like fish in a barrel as the monster swung down forcefully with his skeletal weapon. The ground around us shook, shattered fragments of metal flung in the air, while smoke rose from the increasing flames. The attacks missed us, protected by a simple piece of metal that his brutal attacks couldn’t seem to hit.
Jack fired a few rounds, nearly grazing me as a consequence. I covered my face as the sounds echoed around me, wreaking my eardrums as I felt my body vibrate to each and every enclosing attack. We were all coughing, wheezing, and struggling for air from all the smoke.
The monster readied itself for another downward thrust--one that promised to shatter through our cover and send us to an early grave—but as it did, something knocked it from the side. The monster screamed as it fell victim to the powerful swing as it dug into his side. The monster turned to react, but the assailant defeated him with a direct hit to the head.
Drenched in blood, armed with a modified bass guitar, James Mustang stood prideful. He reached out for my hand, pulling me out from the suffocating space. He offered a saving hand for Grace, who he hugged as if she already meant something to him. Jack, despite what I knew, received a helpful hand and a thankful rub on the shoulder.
We were fortunate that James Mustang hadn’t died. At least, one of us should have been kissing his feet, but Jack simply said his thanks and tried to move on from it. I pondered then what I ponder now, should I say anything about what happened? Would it matter? I wanted too, and James Mustang saw my worry, but he for some reason associated it to the modification he did to his bass. With pieces of scrap metal grafted to the body, the guitar was now literally an axe. James smiled as he talked about how he managed to find the pieces after surviving that unfortunate moment. He talked the most that night as we waited through the night on a high floor.
James has defied the odds somehow. I hope that luck will stay around when we finally reach the Hell Gate, assuming we’re even going in the right direction.
Entry Twenty-Three, 1/6/15
The walks during the day are become more risky. The streets were once crossable,
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