Backwoods Dungeon

Chapter Thirteen

Into the Cave

I wasn’t exactly proud of lying to my wife. I still hadn’t confirmed that the goblins would be a solid source of money either, even if they did live down in that cave. I hadn’t fared well against them, so there was a possibility I was risking my life for admittedly small amounts of profit.

My gut told me there were many more of them, though. I didn’t think my gripping vines would keep them out for long, either.

I probably should’ve just gone to Dowells, grabbed thirty bags of Quikcrete, poured them down the damn hole, and been done with the whole thing. I thought I would’ve too, if not for how Rio had looked at me.

Perhaps she was just trying to be understanding and supportive, or maybe just lift my spirits a little. It might’ve even been pity. If any of those were her goal, she’d succeeded wildly last night. Holy shit, my wife is a knockout when she wanted to be.

Beyond a mild panic attack when she asked where the scar on my chest had come from, the night before had been one to remember. We hadn’t messed up the sheets like that in… months? Years? Could it be the adrenaline of the day? Or perhaps it was my steadily improving stats.

I was still suspicious of the attribute points. I’d added eight to my totals so far. Two to Charisma, one for Strength, one for Dexterity, two into Wisdom, and two for Constitution. Those increased points might not have had anything to do with my sudden endurance and vitality and Rio’s delicious enthusiasm, but frankly, if they did, I wanted more. I wanted a lot more.

I wasn’t ashamed to risk my life for better sex, and I didn’t think anyone out there would blame me! Irritatingly, I hadn’t lost weight this morning, but maybe even magic couldn’t affect carbs and fats. That would be just my luck. I’d have to get more level-ups and points to be sure.

Those were all secondary, though. I had a sneaking suspicion crawling down my spine that the cave and its denizens were part of something bigger. Something more important than just my backyard. I had to know what was down there. Some lizard-brain instinct told me I needed to find out what was happening and stop it if I could. For reasons greater than money or stats or even learning to cast fucking magic.

“The seals are broken. The hells awaken,” I murmured aloud before shuddering. “Well, fuck all of that.”

I set out again in the morning but came more prepared this time. I had a backpack and two flashlights. Two guns, though I knew how stupid using more than one at a time would be. The second gun was just in case the first one ran out of ammo in a tight spot. I had bullets to spare and soundproof headphones for firing them inside the cave. The echo would be almost as dangerous as the goblins if I fired down there without hearing protection too many times.

If I was really going to earn money this way, a good portion of my goblin budget would probably go toward bullets. The ammo boxes in our gun safe had felt like a lot when we first bought them. Now that I was actually thinking of using them for protection and knew I’d need them when I went spelunking, the amount felt meager.

I already had a tailor-made excuse. Rio and I had talked about it plenty of times. The only thing I’d have to do was actually build it instead of just discussing it. I would make a small gun range on our property. That would silence any curious neighbors if they wondered about the increased quantity of gunshots, and it would also curb Rio’s curiosity if I suddenly started buying an arsenal’s worth of bullets.

Shooting would become my hobby. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, I would be a burgeoning gun nut. One of those people who could talk for hours about the differences between Smith and Wesson, Beretta, and Glock.

I’d never been all that good at shooting, but I was familiar with a gun. I’d been in the military, which might lead the uninitiated to believe that meant I knew them inside and out. There were a lot of jobs in the military.

I had been a cook. I was a good cook and quite enjoyed it, but it wasn’t exactly what I focused on when I told friends and family about visiting foreign lands and earning money for my G.I. Bill. Cooks didn’t need to shoot much, as it turns out. We’d occasionally have drills, but that was pretty much it. The military made you feel necessary, even if your task was menial or unimpressive. Yes, I was a cook, but I was an Airman first.

Sure, jarhead marines and army grunts would always give me shit, but my best friend was Army, and despite his pride in it, he told me to go Airforce. And he was right. I got all the best duty stations as an airman. I’d been to Okinawa. He’d been stuck in Fort Hood.

A decent-sized open area down in the ravine faced the mountainside. A few large trees made a canopy that blocked sunlight there, but otherwise the entire area was just low shrubbery. All I had to do was cut those out, maybe mow or weed-eat, and put up some targets. That was easier said than done, but I hoped my Gripping Vines could help.

I was all about mundane uses for magical gifts.

I’d need to build a long bench or table to put guns on, too. Maybe a driveway down the lower road so trash could get down there to pick up bullet casings and target paper? It would suck to have to carry that back up to our garbage can all the time… then again, I could always bury it with Gripping Vines as I had done with all the goblin bodies.

I planned as I walked through the woods, again avoiding the road. If Jill had thought I looked strange before, she’d surely think I was crazy now. I certainly didn’t look like any hunter I’d ever seen.

Still, I was ready. Rio had gone to work and wouldn’t be back until six. Five at the earliest. I’d kissed her goodbye and happily accepted the “Good luck” she’d wished me on the way out the door before I began to prepare for my own ‘job.’

My roots were still in place when I found the cave again. I reached for the reservoir of mana that allowed me to control the vines and found it ready and willing to be put to work. Like a loyal puppy, the roots leaped away from the cave’s entrance and settled back into the earth, becoming regular roots once more.

The cave looked empty for the most part. It was a bit of a tight squeeze to get in. I looked over the lip of it and was still shocked I hadn’t broken my leg falling over the entrance when I’d first fallen into it.

I blinked. I had broken my leg, hadn't I?

My healing aura was off for the moment, and I felt the energy I’d used to move the roots replenish quickly. It was a similar effort to lifting a big bag of dog food, but the strain was mental. I could do it easily enough, but I didn’t think I could go all day. The strain increased the more vines I commanded as well.

Incredibly useful.

The cave was sloped and hard to get into. I knew there would be more room right past the entrance, but I felt briefly claustrophobic as I wedged myself beneath the rock.

Soon, though, I was inside the cave proper. Light streamed in from behind me, but I pulled out my flashlight before I ventured further. I had two of them, just in case. Darkness would probably kill me even more easily than goblins.

I went down for a short while until the cave’s slope evened out and widened now fully beneath my mountain. Soon, I could stand upright. I wondered how far I'd have to go to be directly under my own land. Could I see my well from the bottom down here?

I turned a small corner when I noticed the first oddity. I shined my flashlight over it, and found a strange glyph painted on the wall. It looked like a mix between a crop circle, graffiti from a talented kid, and a kanji. The lines of the symbol were painted blue.

It was actually somewhat pretty in a sinister way. I caught the smell as I approached with a grimace. Copper and an acrid tinge. I immediately realized where the ‘paint’ had come from.

Goblin blood. They’d painted this glyph – whatever it was – with blood of their own kind.

Well, I’d already known they were fucked up. This was just more proof. More evidence to ease the lingering moral qualms I had about killing living beings for profit.

The cave continued on, the ceiling getting ever higher above me as I descended. Stalactites dangled from high above.

I heard the sound before I saw what made it. A low growl. The goblins I’d heard so far had all had guttural, scratchy voices, but they’d been higher-toned. This voice was low like a base singer. It’s grumbling shook my bones.

I rounded the corner and saw it.

A zombie.