5.1
While Jelani, Nikki, and Blake huddled behind a rock that barely shielded them from view, Corvus's sweeping strides silently brought him closer to the enemy.
It was a formidable opponent, that was for sure, but would it be enough to challenge him? In seven years of living the life of a rebel, not a single being who'd faced Corvus Comminutus had been able to match his skill.
The skeleton was a curious being. It was one of nature's various weapons against humanity, and its kind was a main driver of the apocalypse, which had pushed the human race to the brink of extinction.
With the human population at less than half a million, and the entire populated area of the world consisting of only a handful of small cities–all of which contained within what were formerly two US states–humanity's domination over earth's other lifeforms had undoubtedly come to an end.
The creature was a killing machine. Every move it made was determined based on instinct–instincts that belonged to who the skeleton had formerly been, and instincts it used to win itself a weapon, becoming unstoppable.
"Intelligence" enabled it to avoid dangerous situations, but never did its killing instinct fade. After all, it had one clear purpose in death: kill the beings that threatened its existence; specifically, the species it had been born out of.
So, ever since the apocalypse of 30 years earlier, that was how it had survived.
Corvus, judging that the distance had closed sufficiently, stopped at one of the thickest trees in the forest and leaned against it. With a trunk of at least 15 feet in diameter, it would serve as an excellent shield.
He was now facing in the opposite direction of where the skeleton was moving, and he made his next moves deliberately.
He swung his head a little, shifting the long black hair out of his eyes.
The skeleton continued to trek determinedly towards the source of the bullet that had just been put through its skull. It couldn't see either of its opponents, but it was now aware of one's presence and their approximate location.
Corvus had been overlooked.
The man hung his body out to the side of the tree, his spider-like arms allowing him to reach around obstacles in a way that should have been impossible. Keeping the majority of his torso behind the wooden shield, he contorted himself, stretching his spine like a spring so that he could look straight to the skeleton's back.
His heavy eyelids lifted slightly, exposing a little more of his deadly irises.
Raising his weapon, he added his right hand to stabilize the gun and take aim.
His white finger brushed across the surface of the trigger.
Bang. The sound hit the mountain air with a sharp clarity, and his aim was perfect, stabbing the skeleton directly in the center of its upper back.
As the bullet cut through the skeleton's firm, red muscles and proceeded through its entire torso, the undead thing staggered forward.
But it didn't fall.
The skeleton spun its broken skull around, now fully aware of the danger it faced. There were two enemies, each in opposite directions.
It broke into a run, heading straight down the hill before turning sharply to its left. As it sprinted across the slope, it made its next decision quickly, intent on circling the area until it got eyes on the enemy.
"Eyes" wasn't quite an accurate description. The skeleton had no eyes; in other words, it was blind. But the skeleton's other senses had been honed to a much higher level because of it, and, more importantly, it had another sense that was shared by no living creature: it was able to faintly detect the presence of elemental power.
That sense strengthened exponentially as the distance between the observer and the element decreased, so the gap simply needed to close sufficiently for the skeleton's true eyes to awaken.
As it dashed between the trees, it felt a subtle tugging sensation–the enemy was close.
Corvus slouched against the massive tree, waiting patiently. He scrolled his eyes leftward to glimpse flickers of red and white between the trees, just a little ways down.
As long as the skeleton kept up that pace, it would be nearly impossible to shoot. Even if Corvus did find an angle, firing would only aid the skeleton in locating him, so he had no intention of making his presence known.
He believed that, when one was astutely aware of their environment and situation, patience paid off. It couldn't be passive, it had to be an attack in and of itself.
Besides, his opponent may not have been a living thing, but its stamina had to have a limit. At such an extreme pace, physical performance was bound to diminish rapidly.
The skeleton closed in, now making increasingly unpredictable movements as it zig-zagged towards its target. Just a little closer. It only needed to make it a little closer before it could finally engage its opponent properly.
With a sudden halt, it vanished among the trees. Raising one arm straight above its head, it extended a finger, pointing to the sky.
The creature's arsenal was far more devastating than anyone could have imagined.
The area Corvus had occupied didn't only have the one giant tree he'd used as cover–there were also several small, regular pines that surrounded the larger one and, oddly enough, formed a perfect circle around it.
Accelerating back into a full sprint, the skeleton cut sharply around a tree and advanced head-on towards Corvus.
It discerned that there was no longer an obstacle between itself and its adversary. The gap was about to vanish.
However, Corvus had already seen this scenario in his mind.
His bullet ripped between trees and through his pursuer's ribcage.
Yet again, the skeleton stumbled but quickly recovered from the shot. The two bullets it had received were simply the price of closing the distance.
But there was one other important detail.
No blood poured from the skeleton's wounds; instead, subtle dark streaks formed on its back and chest. They carved a pattern of lines that resembled the roots of a tree, giving the appearance of deep, wandering cracks in the smooth surface of its muscles.
The skeleton didn't waste a millisecond.
Finally forced to move, Corvus leapt across the ring and behind one of the smaller pines on its exterior, while the skeleton stood concealed behind a matching tree on the opposite side.
The man was prepared for a brutal onslaught, but it failed to appear.
His fingers tightened around his gun, holding it in ready position, but, still, his adversary didn't show itself.
It was just on the other side of the ring, a tiny distance away.
He could hear his own breathing, feel his own eyes blinking, and his own heart beating.
"CORVUS! BEHIND YOU!"
A woman's voice was screaming his name.
When he turned his head, he was faced with an impossible sight.
A horde of animals was charging him from behind, and anyone could tell that something was off about them.
Every pair of eyes was pure black, and every body was gravely injured.
There were foxes with deep gashes in their sides and fur encrusted with blood. Turkeys were missing huge chunks of feathers, some even missing their heads, and bats' wings were in tatters. There were raccoons with three legs and rabbits with a single ear.
Whether it was fur or feathers, every creature appeared discolored, almost moldy, and the murky mass was sprinting in perfect unison, as if they were all of the same mind.
This was no horde of animals, it was a horde of zombies.
Corvus felt an immediate presence within the ring of trees, and he whipped his body back around, racing against an empty clock.
Head cocked and spine freakishly curved to the side, he leaned out from behind the tree. His right elbow was held high, almost obstructing his vision.
BANG
The two shots went off as one. Corvus's bullet landed off-target in the skeleton's shoulder, but his opponent's gun had already been raised and at the ready. Its aim was true.
Corvus had taken a gamble with the position of his right elbow, but it saved his life.
The projectile pierced straight through his forearm, snapping his ulna in two and peppering his face with a shower of his own blood, before falling to the ground some distance behind him.
The zombies were there.
Like a massive spider, he crawled between trees, craning his body around them and using his long arms as a constant shooting threat.
In his left hand he held his gun, but with his right he engaged the zombies.
Their number was huge–how could he possibly handle them? These were no ordinary animals, after all, or even ordinary rogues; they had the authority of death.
But they were dealing with an opponent who was unusually resilient to those powers. In fact, he even wielded them himself.
Corvus's right arm, which he held at full extension away from his body, threw zombie after zombie to the ground. His arm was so long that they had no way to reach him, so long as he was able to maintain his bubble of safety.
Both the skeleton and Corvus, despite the dual threats he was facing, danced around the trees in the ring, each one trying to catch the other in a moment of weakness.
The skeleton's movements were simple, but they were perfectly efficient. Unlike Corvus, it stayed at a single tree, ducking in and out from behind it while taking shots that were perfectly honed in on the man's chest.
In and out. In and out. The skeleton was there and then it was gone, its gun appearing and disappearing like a camera shutter.
Corvus's body contorted like a flag in the wind. He couldn't ignore a single bullet that his opponent launched at him. His dark eyes swiveled, and his right hand, no matter how many chunks were bitten out of it, flew in the zombies' faces.
Slowly but surely, Corvus made his way around the circle and towards the skeleton, but it would always find a moment of safety in which it could cycle to a new tree, maintaining the distance between the two of them.
The same pattern repeated itself. Shot after shot was fired, both sides at the peak of focus, searching for the decisive move that could break the deadlock.
Bullets flew violently across the ring of trees, forming an air field of death but chopping into nothing except wood and dirt.
Corvus never once got a second hand on his gun. So much flesh had been torn away by the mouths of the animals that the bones in his hand and lower arm were completely exposed, and a river of blood poured off of his shaven fingertips.
He raked in dry breaths more frequently than before.
Out of ammo, he clicked his magazine out, reloading in an unbelievably quick flash of movement.
The skeleton couldn't have had more than a round or two left, and after those final shots went off, the fight would be over. After all, the skeleton carried only a gun and nothing else, so there would be no reloads.
He allowed himself to relax a little. It wouldn't be long now.
Suddenly, the skeleton took its left hand off its gun and, flying around the ring of trees, made a bid at escape. Finally, it had run out of ammo, and the battle would come to an end.
Corvus responded without hesitation, swooping into the ring to intercept his fleeing opponent. He wrapped his right hand around the black handguard of his rifle, willing to let the animals close in on him if it meant delivering the final blow.
His finger curled around the trigger.
What is the most dreaded sight in the world?
Certainly, what Corvus saw was one of the worst: the black hole found within a barrel at point-blank distance.
A lone, empty magazine lay on the ground beneath the skeleton.
"Goodbye," it murmured in a dry, scratchy voice.