It took four more shots to find the creature’s central nervous system—or else simply do enough damage to it that the mushroom head ceased functioning. Cole seized up for a minute as the sensation of being doused in ice water spread over him. Not only that, but the monster’s wooden body started to turn black and dissolve, just like the demon on Kevlesh, so Cole assumed he’d finally done it. He sat down on a fallen log to catch his breath, watching as the creature ablated into fine particles. He pulled the nearly empty magazine out of his gun and swapped it for a fresh one, then hung the weapon on its sling and pulled out the LF Analyzer.
Level: 2, 35%
No class detected.
No subclass detected.>
Still no class. Cole looked up at the sky. “Was that not a good enough show for you?” he demanded. “Are you not entertained?”
No answer. On a whim, Cole tapped one of the enhancement metrics.
Someone had gone to a great deal of effort to make the analyzer user friendly to the smart phone generation. Cole swiped back and tapped on his highest multiplier, Acuity.
So the Lewis Field made his senses sharper, and at the same time made them more resistant to impediments? Seemed counter-intuitive, but he wasn’t about to complain. Having sensitive hearing more easily damaged by gunfire or explosives had been a major concern. Even with his active ear protection buds, there was only so much it could reduce the impact of loud noises. His eyes had noticeably improved, as well. The world had grown brighter again. Even though it was close to sunset, it felt almost noon-bright (or at least Curahee noon-bright). He looked at one of the trees with the fungal growths. Despite being fifteen feet away, he could clearly make out the networks of little blue veins if he focused—and even pick out the vague outline of a fungus man forming in the bark.
Guess that explains why they’re still here after so many Kickers have come through. The ones that had been humans, though, that was another matter.
So, another level, and stats to go with it. Cole cleaned off his Kali sticks and stowed them.
In the few minutes since the fight had ended, he’d heard at least two different calibers of gunfire and one explosion. The other recruits were definitely starting to encounter monsters of their own. His pack still lay where he’d left it at the small rise, so he trekked over and picked it up—then set it back down and dug through for the anti-fungal meds.
Who knows how many of those spores I inhaled, he thought as he washed one of the tablets down with a sip from his hydration pack. He shivered. Disgusting. The pills left a metallic aftertaste in his throat. Raindrops started to pitter-patter on the canopy again, so out came the poncho. With his enhanced eyesight he was able to pick out movement on the forest floor. Unbelievably, the first zombie he’d crippled was still crawling its way towards him on stumps, struggling with the thick underbrush. The one at the base of the hill had almost completely ablated away, leaving a soft blue glow. Right, loot.
He glanced over his shoulder and then back-tracked to the fungus man, kicking aside some of the corpse that hadn’t yet dissolved. It broke away easily, like the ash of a fire log reduced to carbon. Inside was a softly glowing hunk of metal. He reached down and pulled it out, holding it up to inspect. It looked like a bolt carrier group for his AR-10 with a strange orange pattern, but it felt spongy. with his other hand, he pulled out his Analyzer and touched the device to the plate.
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Bolt of lesser Fungal Growth — Bullets fired from a gun modified with this bolt deal 3% increased damage at the cost of 3% higher recoil and have a 3%-5% chance to cause rapid fungal growth, slowing the target.>
Gross. His first piece of LF gear was a mushroom bolt. Colt pursed his lips. Strange. Jefferson had mentioned monsters dropping guns as loot, but he hadn’t said anything about gun parts. Cole wasn’t sure how effective rapid fungal growth would be against fungus zombies that seemed to already be afflicted. But if he could use it to blind or slow monsters down, that was a definite upgrade. As his strength was increasing at each level, the recoil would become less meaningful, as well. Jefferson had been proud of his chrome-lined bolt, but just like the fungal wood man after his first shot, making the swap seemed like a no-brainer.
The nice thing about civilian AR platforms was their ease of modification—even without tools. Cole cleared his rifle, then popped the back pin out to hinge open the receiver. The bolt carrier group was still smoking hot from the firefight, but he pulled it out, idly wondering why the Lewis Field seemed to make no distinction between a bolt and a bolt carrier group. No matter. He lined up the minor fungal growth bolt and dropped it in, then swung the upper receiver back in place and reloaded. The weapon now felt… more his, in his hands. Like the bolt resting in the upper receiver was connected to him. Instinctively, he knew that it was in there.
Stowing the old inert bolt in his pack, he made his way down to the base of the chasm where his first kill had dissolved leaving behind some glowing goo. Roxy had told him about this stuff, how it was used to power the temporary Lewis Fields back home, and they got a bonus for every milliliter they returned with, so he looked through his pack for the device the inventory sheet called an LF siphon, and used it to suck up some of the goo into the reservoir.
By the time he was done, the first fungal zombie had finished tearing its way through the undergrowth. Cole walked over and flattened its head with a boot. He waited for the blue glow to appear and then rummaged through the remains to pull out a set of small wooden panels shaped like… he concentrated. Yes, he could feel vaguely what the loot would do, even before he pulled out his LF analyzer to verify.
If there were more of those fungal zombies in the woods, that seemed like an easy choice. He weighed them against his ceramic side inserts. They were about half the weight and, oh yeah, wood. So Cole wasn’t so certain they were more protection than the high-grade ceramic body armor issued by the Army. He tapped the analyzer on his original side plates, but nothing happened. Which made sense as much as anything else in the past week had. It was a Lewis Field analyzer, after all. Not an Uncle Sam analyzer. The anti-fungal infection properties alone were worth it, so Cole stowed his ceramic side inserts in his pack and kept moving.
The fight against his first three monsters without the benefit of lightning bullets or an M240 and an eight-ton vehicle had come and gone, and he was still standing—if exhausted and somewhat battered. None of them were giant, four-armed heart-eater demons who were immune to bullets, so that was a plus. And none of them had been armored Glefa mercs with automatic rifles. They were dangerous, but he could see them coming. Then again, Glefa usually stopped coming once you shot them in the head, so maybe it was a mixed bag. The sun was getting low, but Cole wasn’t sure he wanted to sleep alone in this forest. Bart the medic should be off to his west, not too distant, and there’d been gunfire in that direction. Cole headed that way in hopes of finding Bart. Or, alternatively, more monsters to pull loot from. Even though his AR-10 magazines only held 20 rounds each, he still had several full ones in his rig.
The close gunfire had stopped, though occasional distant reports still echoed through the forest as he travelled, taking occasional breaks to stop and rehydrate, and once as the sun dipped below the horizon to pull out his NODs and battery and attach them to the mounts on his helmet. Cole was used to running night ops, so he had no intention of stopping at nightfall—though he would eventually need to rest. But he’d fought in Syria with much worse equipment. The DOR had issued him state-of-the-art goggles, full field of view with edge detection; stuff they usually only gave to the secret squirrel JSOC and Delta guys. His enhanced eyesight made the display almost painfully bright, and he had to dial down to the dimmest level to be able to handle the goggles.
Usually, the US Military owned the night. But against these otherworld monsters? Some of them didn’t even need eyes to see him. Cole had a feeling the top-shelf equipment was the bare minimum to give him a chance of staying alive.