A New World
Hey! Here's the next chapter, I hope you guys enjoy
Just like last time; I don't own the manga/anime or game.
In hindsight, it wasn't the worst idea ever. America did manage to escape his cocoon prison. Though he should have thought of a better plan than just falling from the ropes.
America lay on the floor while simultaneously gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. This did nothing to stop him from letting out a cry of pain every time the man so much as twitched.
Of course.
Of course he would have just the right amount of luck to get himself skewered by a metal rod in his escape attempt.
Alfred lifted himself up and damn did it hurt when he did that. The searing pain seemed to spread from his side abdomen and up his spine.
"Oh god" Every move Alfred made to sit up caused the rod to shift inside him. He had to sit up though. He- he had to get it out of him.
America's mind wasn't clear enough to realize why that might have been a bad idea.
"Uh" with one final grunt America sat up while spreading his knees out a bit, if he wouldn't have done so the nation would have lost balance. Looking down, America finally caught sight of the metal rod. It was as much of a grizzly sight as it felt. Hands shaking, America took hold of the rod. Simply touching it sent pain shooting throughout his body.
As quickly as he could, the nation wrenched the metal rod out of his body with one final squeal.
What he felt before was nothing compared to what he felt now.
At this point Alfred thought he would- no should have passed out. He hadn't even realized he was still moaning in pain and that at some point Alfred had thrown the offending metal rod off to the side. Swallowing back bile, he moved his hands (were they always so heavy?) to shield the injury.
Only one thought was clear to America at that moment.
He had to get out of there.
Ahead of him was more light, he could make that out.
America stood up and started lumbering his way to the passage, letting out grunts and whimpers as he went. He only made it 4 steps into the newly discovered passage before he tripped. Alfred's head was still pounding, not making it easier for his already blurry eyes to focus.
He lifted his head. There was more light at the end of the passage, just a bit more. Alfred once again rose from the ground on trembling legs and continued on as best as he could.
America didn't even register that there was a horrid aroma also coming from that direction.
Nor did he register the crunching under his boots that couldn't just be rocks.
As he grew closer to the end of his passage, his breathing (wheezing, really) started to become even more prominent.
He was already tired.
Shit.
Alfred, now mere steps from end of the passage, once again tripped. This time, however, he actually manages to catch himself on a nearby wooden stump. Alfred leaned his whole body on it, trying to catch his breath.
His head still hurt. Which did nothing to ease the pain from his abdomen. That injury was still throbbing horribly and, from what he could feel from his hands that were still cupping said wound, it was still bleeding.
His sight wasn't going to get any less blurry. Not without Texas.
His mouth was still utterly dry.
Finally, the strong odor hit him. It was completely indescribably putrid and strong. America looked up, his vision clear enough to confirm his nose.
"What the-!?" the passage opened to another open area. An area that had a man strung up by ropes, in an almost crucifix fashion. A whole cluster of candles surrounded the body.
Now that he concentrated, Alfred could also make out bones that were littered throughout the ground in the cavern. The bones were also all over the passage floor.
He was currently stepping on a femur.
"Oh god." Alfred's voice trembled. Admittedly, he had seen scene just as gruesome before, but horrible sights never did become easier to witness (centuries of experience or not).
What made the situation worse to Alfred was that work like this was usually done by some sort of cult. Humans were already unpredictable creatures (generally), adding crazy just made them a danger to all.
America took a large gulp of air using his mouth, to try to avoid the smell, and lifted himself from his position. He took tentative steps into the cavern.
At the other end of the cavern was another passage. Right next to the body.
The stench was worse up close. America took one last look at the poor man before continuing his stumbling towards freedom.
"No. No . . ." It was one of the mechanics that worked on the Endurance. He was the quiet Australian; Steph? Was that his name?
His skin had a purple tint to it.
There was a large puddle under his feet, that America rather not examine.
His eyes sunken into his skull.
His body looked stiff.
By all this America calculated how long the man has been dead, how long he's probably been here.
12 hours.
It's been at least 12 hours.
I have to get out of here.
Now more determined than ever, Alfred stumbled his way to the exit. Right at the entrance was a torch attached to a wall sconce to the left.
Alfred pulled it from its perch and continued on his way.
He almost missed the fact that, in his stumbling, he had knocked into a line of hanging bottles. The noise was loud and it did a grand job in echoing.
"Shit, that was loud" America realized a little belatedly. It wouldn't due to let his abductor be aware that he was wandering around.
America managed to hobble his way down the passage for a solid minute before he came upon a wooden barricade with flowing water running down the rocks next to it. There were a small line of ants marching down the passage wall.
Something good for once!
America sat himself down amidst the bones that littered the ground and took that moment to wash his hands. He proceeded to lifted his shirt to examine his wound.
Now that he properly examined the wound, he felt slightly embarrassed. It wasn't THAT bad- he's definitely had worse (that doesn't change the fact that getting injured still hurt, no matter how fast they heal). It wasn't even that deep and by the sluggish bleeding, America could tell that arteries and organs were missed.
Giving a sigh of relief, Alfred continued on with his plan. He grabbed an ant and forced it to clamp on to his wound. Alfred continued doing so until the puncture wound was sealed with the makeshift ant stitches.
Washing his hands once again, this time so he could cup water into his hands to drink.
Was that the healthy or safe thing to do?
No.
Never less, America did so anyway. It certainly helped sooth his dry throat and mouth.
Picking up the torch from where he left it, America rose to his feet and faced his next obstacle.
The wooden barricade was made of an assortment of wooden crates and planks that really just looked like a pile of rubbish. Indisputably not used to support the passage.
It had to go if he wanted to go further.
. . .
Let's hope this doesn't end up like my last idea.
Alfred thrusted his torch into the flammable construct. By how quickly it burned, it was extremely flammable indeed.
That was one problem gone, but . . .
"Shit, that was louder than the bottles"
The planks and crates fell to the floor as they burned and lost their support. This noise would not go unnoticed by his abductor.
Alfred maneuvered himself over the still burning debris and continued on his way, trusty torch at hand. The next opening was more a crack in the wall, but it was still wide enough that he could shimmy his way through.
Before he could continue on, he heard something.
A couple of bangs.
A muffled sound.
Shit. Fuck. He heard me.
It was a voice, the- shit. He had to go.
With that, Alfred quickly shimmied his way through the small entrance. In his panic, he hadn't noticed the streaming water until it literally washed over him. And put out his torch.
"Aw, damn it" cursed America in a hushed tone for more than one reason. The new room he came upon looked to also be a dead end.
In front of him was a small open fire hanging in a small structure. The small room was just stacked with debris. America dropped the now useless, wet piece of wood. He then picked up a new, dry one and lit it on fire using the brazier.
America continued to examine his surroundings.
There was a ledge to his right that looked stable enough to climb. The ledge was supporting a long piece of cloth (No, wait. That was the sail and mast of a ship) that was long enough to stretch across the room . . . to a fuel tank.
After a bit of thinking over this idea (sanity and self-preservation skills as well), Alfred came to a conclusion.
To hell with it. If it ends badly, I could probably take the bastard with me.
It's not like it'll kill me anyway.
Alfred stumbled his way over to the ledge and pulled himself up with some difficulty (his wound could just suck it), knocking down some bottles that had been placed on the edge.
For a second time today, America thrusted a torch somewhere he really shouldn't have.
Don't worry, the others will show up soon.