The storm raged around Jacob as he struggled through its winds and dust clouds. If anything the storm was getting worse, and even with the goggles and bandanna, Jacob was having a hell of a time getting through. The armor and weapons weighing him down didn’t help either. At the very least, hiss eye and mouth protection made it easier to navigate. I need to find a watchtower… I know there's one around here.

  Jacob found the guard tower by almost running into one of its support poles. The man stumbled back from the run-in before he looked up to the towers top. It was difficult to make out more than a silhouette at the structure above, but Jacob was sure he could see familiar, boxy cones hung from the top. Sirens. If I sound those off, I can warn the town and the raiders plans go up in smoke. Then I escape and I never see these people again.

  Easy. I hope.

  The only way up the tower was by climbing a rope ladder, then going up a few flights of sketchy-looking stairs made of rebar and old wood. The towers vantage point was open air, though stitched-together tarps protected the exposed parts. Like everywhere, a fuel-powered generator sat inside along with a handful of fuel cans and a crude switchboard. A table and two chairs took up the rest of the space, with an old-looking HAM radio on it. A cord ran from the radio to outside, where Jacob was guessing an antenna was placed.

  The generator started up after Jacob poured some of the thick, crude-looking fuel into it. As it rattled, Jacob inspected the switchboard, which had a grand total of three levers on it. The first turned on the lights, while the second made the radio crackle with static.

  The third switch turned on the sirens.

  All of the sirens were different models, battered and in poor repair, which meant they were out of sync with each other’s sound, along with being grating and static-filled. Still it was loud, and Jacob knew even with the storm, the alarm could be heard from across the canyon. Perfect. Now it’s time to get out of here, head back to Brighton, and never see this group again.

  That was when a bullet punched through the flooring.

  “Traitor!” Jacob heard a female voice call out from underneath. Shit. They must have sent people to investigate when Shard didn’t answer. I need to get out of here. NOW!

  A glance at the man’s HUD (marked by a small heart symbol) hovered around under a quarter. I’m in no condition to fight, and I don’t think this armor will stand up to bullets. I’ve got to get out of here. Jacob pulled out his revolver and realized he hadn’t reloaded it. As he opened the cylinder and fumbled fresh rounds in, Jacob could hear the clink of glass followed by the distinct sound of a cigarette lighter. What’s that?

  “Catch this motherfucker!” Jacob heard from below. This was followed by the sound of smashing glass from below and then heat. They’ve got a… fire bomb thing? he thought, beginning to panic. Flame began to lick up from below as Jacob struggled to load the last bullets in. By the time he was finished, the fire had spread to the stairs, and was headed for the fuel cans. Oh no.

  Jacob knew one way out, but the tower was forty feet tall and he’d die if he jumped. I’ll die anyway in these flames if I don’t get out.

  Wait. What if I slide down one of the pillars?

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  It was a stupid, crazy idea, but stupid, crazy ideas were all Jacob had at the moment. He tore open one of the dust guards, wincing at the flames that were strong enough now to make him feel pain. With the revolver back in its holster, Jacob swung out the side of the tower and grasped onto the sides of one of the support poles before he began to slide down. The man made it around halfway down before the watchtower exploded and the sirens stopped.

  To be fair the explosion was definitely louder than the sirens.

  By the time he reached the bottom of the pole, Jacobs hands were rubbed raw again, the cuts oozing the black substance that served as his blood. He also realized that he was three feet away from one of the traitors. Without thinking, Jacob pulled the revolver out and shot his opponent square in the head.

  Jacob expected the woman to drop like Shard had. Instead she stumbled around, mouth slurring something unintelligible in the wind as the crossbow in her hands was raised. How the hell? How?

  Jacob was shocked enough that the woman was able to fire the crossbow at him, a bolt quivering into his chest piece. In retaliation, Jacob raised the revolver and shot again in the head. This time the woman fell and a notification popped up:

  Enemy Defeated [Marauder_Rank_3] x1

  40 XP gained!

  And I killed someone again…

  As the woman dropped, a bullet hit Jacob in the arm, and he grunted as his health dropped by about a sixth. I appear to be a bit squishy.

  A figure raced out of the dust holding a machete, screaming like a maniac. On instinct, Jacob raised a bracer to protect himself. To the man’s surprise, the bracers blocked the hit, though it still hurt. With no time to thumb the hammer, Jacob pistol-whipped his foe in the jaw. There was a nasty crunch, and the raider stumbled back, clutching his mouth.

  Behind Jacob, the man could hear a trio of guns cock, and he turned around to see the last group of foes pointing various improvised firearms at him. Where the hell are machined weapons anymore? The trio's fingers tightened on the triggers until out of the storm everyone heard the growl of an engine nearby. Out of the storm pulled an old pickup truck, plain and more utilitarian than what Jacob was used to.

  Out of the back jumped five heavily armed and armored figures, some of which didn’t look human. They carried what looked like repeating crossbows and double-barrel shotguns; one had a cobbled-together flamethrower. All wore scrap-metal armor complete with full-face helmets. Acting on instinct, Jacob dove for cover as the soldiers opened up. Arrows, buckshot, and crude napalm shot through the air; the raiders either screaming in pain or running for the hills. It was over within thirty seconds, but Jacob was already gone, ready to attempt to escape to… somewhere other than here.

  Nearby, the man could hear gunfire and the sounds of metal hitting metal, though nothing came from where Jacob remembered the gate being located. By the time he reached the exit, the man could see various vehicles alongside a small semi-truck with a scrap-made trailer on the back. I would steal one of these… but I doubt I can still drive.

  The man was almost out of the gate when an unpleasantly familiar hissing sound, as a spear buried into his left calf. “Oh come on!” he screamed as Jacob attempted to pull the spear out. A strange ‘zap’ sound was his only other warning, and the man felt… tingly. Attempting to move caused him to make sluggish, clumsy steps, and he turned around to see one of the big lizards he’d ‘met’ before, an expression of shock on his face. “How are you-“ he said as another spear hit Jacob in the side, his health bar turned from yellow to red.

  [WARNING: CRITICAL HEALTH]

  “Not… again…” Jacob grunted, before the big lizard punched him in the face. The man stumbled before in instinct, he fired the revolver. A round hit the lizard in the side, and he grunted in pain, clutching his side. The air gun hissed once more, though Jacob dodged this time, only for the lizard with the crippled leg slashed at him. He made contact, and the man stumbled as a cut slid across Jacob's other calf.

  The man’s health was drained to a sliver, the heart blinking frantically. “Not… going… to… die…” he grunted, thumbing the revolver only for it to be knocked out of his hands. Claws wrapped around his throat, and Jacob found himself being choked out. This time his stamina (marked by a right-facing arrow) began to drain, and the man’s struggles weakened until the bar ran out and he fell unconscious.