Post-Apocalyptic Survivor in Another World: New Beginning

Joseph sighed as the canned ham fried in his pan, flipping it occasionally to ensure even cooking on each side. Sure, the meat was edible as it was… but he refused to eat it cold, not when the option to make it delicious was available to him. His kitchen was a humble thing, nothing that would be out of the ordinary for the standard home in Pre-End America. While it did have all the tools from one of those quaint kitchens of old, it certainly didn’t look like it.

The kitchen was really more of an aisle, no wider than a train car… the walkway between the seats of the train car, specifically. It was very compact, with barely enough room for him to stand within it. It served its purpose though, the oven sat beneath the mounted microwave, with a vent that, when opened at the top, would pull any heat and smoke up and out of Betty with the aid of a repurposed desk fan. The sink sat opposite of the oven, beside the door, a humble steel thing that had once called a mechanics shop home. His massive deep freezer took up the rest of the cramped space, loaded with enough food to last him a year… at least, it would have lasted him a year when he had still been an old man.

He didn’t need to eat nearly as much then, but now that he was young again, it was like his stomach had become three times the size it used to be. This was his fifth meal today, when before he only ate one, or two on rare occasions. Yet he found it hard to be conservative when his gut was constantly grumbling.

Once he finished cooking, he scraped the simple meal onto a steel plate, turning off the burners before throwing the pan in the sink and leaving his kitchen. There wasn’t enough room on Betty for a proper dining area, the living room had always served that purpose well enough, even if the occasional messes stained the pink carpet. He sat down in his chair, wasting no time as he scarfed down the ground up meat as quickly as he was able.

There was still so much left to do! He couldn’t just sit down all day, Betty needed a bit more spring cleaning before he set out into the unknown. He grimaced at the thought, placing the plate on the small table beside his chair. Betty could be cleaned all day… but that still wouldn’t get her out of these woods, he was just delaying the inevitable…

He needed to find a way to get out of these trees and onto a road, but maneuvering Betty through these thick woods was going to be close to impossible, at least not without knocking down a dozen trees on the way out. He’d much rather leave the forest intact, it was beautiful and likely it was the only intact woodland left over from the old world. Destroying the surrounding flora would feel like contributing to The End in a way… but again, he knew not how to avoid it.

Betty was just too big, and the space between the trees was too small. That, and there was the fact that he didn’t even know where the nearest road even was. He could drive through potentially hundreds of miles of forest before finding one. Joseph blinked before shaking his head with a small laugh. He could still be a dope sometimes it seemed. There had been a bumpy trail back where he had saved that girl and her father this morning. All he had to do was follow that trail until it led to a proper road, then he’d be out in a jiffy.

Still, he wasn’t sure how long that journey would be, especially since he was considering going on foot. He wanted to scout out what lay ahead without having to de-forest his surroundings to do so, after that, he’d take Betty through the shortest path through the forest, and hope that the damage she caused would be minimal. He’d need to start packing up now to make use of the remaining daylight.

The plate armor would do for this trip, the T-12 wouldn’t be able to make the journey. With his mind set, he stood, approaching his workshop with a small skip in his step. He was actually excited to see more of the woods, to hear and smell the crunch of the fallen leaves as he explored the woody wonderland. It wasn’t long before he was wearing his plate-mail, trench coat and backpack, practically tearing them from their locker as he rushed to put them on. He had barely looked his gear over before donning it, but as much as he wanted to get out in the field, it was important to ensure that nothing had rusted or gotten torn during his sedentary years

The steel breastplate seemed intact, as did the studded greaves and vambraces, really, the entire set appeared whole, albeit a bit dusty. Thankfully there was no rust, but every inch of the armor was covered in tarnish. He wouldn’t clean it off, it may not look pretty but if he did remove it Joseph would be far too shiny for his liking. As for the kevlar vest sewn into the interior, there were a few tears, but other than that it would function just as well. He’d stitch it all up later.

His hooded trench coat too had a couple tears here and there also, but there was nothing that couldn’t be easily fixed with his needles. It was a durable, heavy thing that had handled most of what the wastes could throw at him, with hard plating sewn into the surface and oiled to make it water resistant. If he were more confident in what he might encounter out there today, he probably wouldn’t wear it. It could be unbearably hot, even during early winter, but the protection it offered would be worth it… at least for now.

He may regret taking it out with him later, but better safe than sorry. Besides the studded plate-armor and modified trench coat, he had his gas mask-steel helmet combo, simple in its function. He had to make this piece from scratch, it had taken forever but its utility made it well worth it. Dark ballistic glass had been fitted into the v-shaped visor, protecting his eyes from both shrapnel and environmental hazards. If he encountered any poisonous air out there or invisible fungal spores, the mask would filter it out. He would need to replace the two tubes attached to the sides of the helmet, as years of decay had made them ratty and torn. He made sure that the cartridges loaded into the mask were still fresh before he donned it.

The rest of his gear was stashed either in his leather tool-belt for easy access, or in his armored backpack for when things got more… complicated. A bit of extra ammo never hurt, he just hoped it didn’t end up crushing the food he’d packed with it. Ah well, it would still be edible either way, no point worrying about it. He’d eaten far worse than smashed bread in his time, even before The End.

After ensuring that everything was well in order, Joseph left Betty, sealing her ramp with a click of a button and a grin on his face. It was almost like the old days again, just him, his gear, and the unknown. He hoped that nothing would try to kill him during this jaunt, but he knew better at this point. The End had brought in everything from the undead, trans-dimensional beasts, and mutated giant insects, just to name a few. Just because this place looked normal didn’t mean that the critters contained within it were.

A bullet usually solved most problems before they could get too close, but Joseph could handle an up-close scuffle if it came to it. He had the three corners of melee covered, a sharpened combat knife for stabbing, a short trench mace for bludgeoning, and a shortsword for slashing; all sheathed in his belt for ease-of-access. Different monsters required different solutions; if things became close-quarters, it was best to be prepared. He waved at Betty before finally departing from the clearing, picking his way back toward that trail he’d seen earlier. That girl and her father had likely departed already, but there was no way that they would have taken those corpses with them. It had been a while but he was excited to pick through whatever loot the scumbags might possess.

The clothes off their backs might come in handy for some extra thread, and he coulda sworn that a couple of them were wearing some leather. He’d definitely cut those up for some extra patches, and perhaps he’d take their weapons too… hmm, if he did decide to pack up all that stuff then he’d need to make a trip back to Betty to drop it all off. Not a big deal, he wasn’t on a set time-table or anything. If he ran out of daylight before finding a proper road he’d just come back to Betty for the night.

When he finally came upon the trail he’d found earlier, he wasn’t surprised to see that the wagon and its occupants were nowhere to be seen. Likely they headed back home, and that was likely for the best, especially with these types walking about. He sneered at one of the bullet-riddled corpses laying by the trail before taking note of the other corpses, ones he had not created. Joseph had not shot these ones… they’d been killed before he’d arrived most likely.

There were five of them, strewn around where the wagon had been. Had they been guarding it? Poor fellas, not the best of ways to go out. His eyes widened a fraction when he noticed a gleam from beneath their finely-tailored coats. Was that what he thought it was? He moved over quickly, making sure that no one was watching from the woods before he knelt down to inspect the corpses. Their wounds indicated that none of them had been shot, meaning that these bandits had no guns for sure.

Low-lives didn’t go out of their way to fight fairly with their victims. The several crossbow bolts sticking out of their exposed flesh was proof of this. The crossbow was not an uncommon weapon that was utilized in The End, it had been easier to produce ammunition for them then guns after all. The bodies all wore the same kind of well-maintained coats, all bearing a crest on the back that depicted an eagle’s claw clutching a bouquet of roses. It was brilliantly sewn and completely intact aside from the tears received in battle. Other than that, there were little to no signs of wear, there was no way that these garments were Pre-End, these had been made somewhat recently… by hand.

He’d need to see if he could find who did this, he’d love to learn a couple things from them, if they were still alive that was. Yet, the coats were only secondary in his mind compared to the full breastplate beneath them. The shining metal gleamed in the sunlight that poured through the leaves overhead, dazzling his eyes. There was a great metalworker nearby as well, there had to be, there’s no way these survivors just found something like this intact in a museum. He’d like to meet them too, see if he couldn’t pick up some tricks for his own metalworking.

Joseph giddily began removing the armor from the bodies, undoing the leather straps that held them in place. It was a very good type of steel these were made from, he could melt them all down for some projects, maybe make himself a fresher set of armor. He unslung his rucksack, and got to work looting the corpses of their belongings. The breastplates wouldn’t fit in the rucksack, but he got a good amount of the clothing put away, and he could carry the armor back to Betty in just a trip or two.

And that’s exactly what he did.

The weapons, clothes, and knick-knacks of the deceased were slowly but surely moved back to Betty, with Joseph dropping them unceremoniously on the ground before the towering vehicle before going back to get more. It wasn’t just weaponry and armor the departed possessed, the little sacks at their belts were filled with what Joseph suspected was gold! Certainly these little coins had to hold some sort of value, otherwise why would both the bandits and the guards be carrying it?

He didn’t recognize the characters etched into the gold on the front and back, the front depicting a flaming sword whilst the back showed a shield. There were some words etched on both sides as well… but Joseph could not recognize the script for the life of him. It certainly wasn’t a Latin-based language, and it certainly didn’t look like it was Eastern. The script was borderline alien, utilizing several shapes of differing sizes to spell out what Joseph assumed was words.

Had a new form of language arose in Europe, one that didn’t use Latin as a base? That didn’t seem likely… maybe these were just as they appeared, shapes and nothing more. He’d study it more later, perhaps he could find some other examples of the written word of this country soon. Things went on like this for about an hour, with Joseph lost in his thoughts as he brought the loot back to Betty in trips.

On his third trip though… something had changed. As he neared the trail once again, giddy to bring back the final load, he heard someone talking, or perhaps something. Some monsters from the End had been capable of utilizing human speech to lure in victims, best approach with caution. He knelt, listening to the low, guttural voices coming from just over the bushes.

“Agrak!” A voice shouted through what must have been a gallon of snot coating its throat, “Meshan dar lut gon!”

Lut gon? Was that loot gone? Well, Joseph wasn’t going to share, he’d gotten here first and these scavs had better move on. Other snot-filled voices replied to the first, their tones seemingly offended. These things didn’t really sound completely human, whatever they were. They could be some interdimensional visitors trying to scrape by like him, but he’d not engage in diplomacy with these creatures unless he knew for sure they wouldn’t be a threat.

The aliens could not be trusted, just like the demons, he’d have to hold them at gunpoint and have them disarm themselves. He might let them keep their weapons if they weren’t any kind of gun, just because they were aliens didn’t mean that they didn’t deserve a chance to survive in the wastes… but in all likelihood he’d just have to kill them all.

He clicked off the safety of his rifle, standing from the bushes and shouting, “Drop your weapons!”

What he saw shocked him. Little green men with long pointed noses and warty skin stared at him with wide yellow goat-like eyes, blinking in confusion. What the hell were these freaks!? He’d never seen anything like this in the wastes, and he’d seen it all! They were all standing around the bodies, hunched over with clubs and crude daggers in their little clawed hands. Joseph counted twelve in all, none of them tall enough to even reach his waist.

They looked like… well, they looked like goblins. Hell, maybe they were goblins, The End had brought all kinds of otherworldly creatures to Earth, a fantasy creature wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. They could also be mutants he supposed, but it was hard to say, he couldn’t exactly test their DNA to be sure.

“Fagrak meshali!” A goblin shouted, pointing at Joseph, “Fagrak!”

Fagrak? Was that some kind of slur? Or maybe it was a command!? It did kind of sound like ‘attack’ after all.The goblins all then charged at Joseph, uncaring that he held them all at gunpoint. Maybe they didn’t know what a gun was? Ah well, that wasn’t Joseph’s problem.

He pulled the trigger, exploding the head of the nearest goblin and painting his fellows in crimson brain-batter. The creatures all dispersed, screaming in terror and falling over one another in an attempt to escape. The fight was over now, all it had taken was one bullet for them to learn what a gun was.

Yet, Joseph didn’t think it wise to leave survivors. He opened fire again on the retreating backs of the creatures, hitting them in the head or back and dropping them like flies. Once he counted twelve rounds fired, he slung the rifle back over his shoulder. It was quite spendy to fire off twelve shots like that, but there was no way he was going to catch all these little freaks by hand. It was imperative that he kill them all, survivors always came back to be a pain in his rear later.

Speaking of which, there were a couple goblins that still lived, screaming and trying to crawl away, their legs non-functioning. Joseph sighed and approached the downed creatures, stomping on the napes of their necks to finish them off. The crunch of bone beneath boot was a sound he hadn’t heard in a very long time; it looked like his stomping foot was back in prime condition!

If there were any more goblins nearby they would have heard those gunshots for sure. He’d need to wrap up the looting quickly before more showed up! He couldn’t spend all these bullets in one place. He only had a couple mags left, who knew how many problems would show up? Ten, a hundred? There was potentially a lot he’d need to deal with, and while this rifle could solve up to thirty problems per mag, he was hesitant to spend the ammo on these creatures.

He quickly began pulling the rest of the loot into his rucksack, packing away the remainder of the corpses clothing before he scrambled back into the woods toward Betty. There was a healthy amount of loot here, and he could use the clothing he found to get his gear back in prime shape. Stitchings and patchwork needed to be done, and these would do very nicely for that. It wouldn’t be a big deal to stay home another night before exploring, it shouldn’t take him too long to sew everything back into shape.

Today has been absolutely fantastic! Nothing like a bit of lootin’ n’ shootin’ to get the rust off!