Backblast

The Bastion's a powderkeg, alright, both figuratively and literally. Enough internal strife to spark a civil war paired with the biggest stockpile of weaponry known to man in the post-apocalypse lends itself to a rather tense environment. That doesn't really matter to you, though. At least there's still a Bastion left, and you'll be damned before you let it fall.

You're not ready to let this all go. That's not what your family would have wanted.

You catch I snooping around the armoury. Odd fellow, certainly, but as you ask what he's doing, he says he wants to be part of the home guard to protect the Bastion, so he was trying to requisition supplies. You trust the lad, but too many guns have gone missing and too many people have been shot lately for you to just take him on his word and leave him to his own devices.

You two decide to form an alliance: you'll give him access to your supplies and guns, while he helps you with setting up defences. After all, forging is tough work, and you could certainly use an extra pair of hands. He seems excited to get the experience as well.

Things start off well. You launch a small foray into the forest to collect scrap metal, rust and… tree bark, according to I. 'For armour,' he says. You don't question it. You move quickly and quietly ; a two-man squad is easy to hide, even from Chris who's relentlessly trying to keep the Bastion locked down. Once you return, you set about turning that junk into something deadly. Rust gets mixed into thermite, with I shaving bits off of aluminium piping with his knife as the forges glow hot with molten steel. It's a handy bit of work, that blade. You make a note to ask about it after this is all said and done.

A couple of hours later, you have a ramshackle set of landmines and a whole bunch of bullets for whatever guns you have left in the Bastion. No time to make more guns, unfortunately. You and I head out to set up the defences around the perimeter, with I having taken the time to put up a few warning signs as well. Good lad. You pass the time digging, nestling the mines in and covering them while you trade stories of your travels before the Bastion. It's… relaxing, in a way. You get to brag quite a lot about your studies on forging and gunsmithing, and to his credit, the kid is a good listener. It's… genuinely nice, and you wonder whether April or Mayes would have grown to be friends with him.

Your daydream gets cut off by repeated calls from I, followed by a scream as he just barely dodges a very rapid lunge from a zombie. Too rapid of a lunge. A lunge that's coming right for you. You can just about raise an inert mine to shield yourself as the zombie barrels into you. You scuffle with it, avoiding its repeated bites by shoving the mine into its mouth as you scramble to grab your sidearm. You can't get a clean shot, the zombie is too close and actively jostling you around as it pushes you towards the fence. Suddenly, I's oh-so familiar blade stabs into the zombie's shoulder, yanking it to the side. You thank your lucky stars, and the kid, in your mind as the sudden lack of counterforce makes you stumble forwards, towards-

click.

Sh-

Your eyes gently open. Your vision is blurry and your hearing is muffled. You feel yourself being dragged, and you think you feel I's frantic voice calling out for someone. Your gaze drops downwards, to your leg… or, what's left of it. It's a bloody mess, bone and flesh dragging across the ground held only by small strings of sinew. Your foot is completely gone, probably vapourised in the blast, and the lacerations from whatever shrapnel flew out go all the way up into your thigh. As soon as you see it again, the analgesic effect of shock and adrenaline wears off as a splitting pain courses throughout your body from your leg.

It's too great. You pass out again.

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