Surviving Survivalcraft (a lab rats/survivalcraft crossover)

One Year Later

(I don't own either series.)

-Chase-

-One year later-

I live in a large house next to a lake in the plains.

I have built up a ghost town around me, with roads, and buildings and farmland with crops. I have stalls for my horses, and fields for my cows.

I have a fence too, all around my ghost town, to keep the predators out. I have pens of the very things that used to hunt me, like the boars, and the tigers.

But I keep the bulls and the cows seperate as well. There was a bull that once attacked me, when I first came here. As soon as I made a stone machete, he was the first life I ever took.

There is a bakery in my town, with a man made out of sticks. He is the baker, but I bake everything myself. The same with the butcher, and the shopkeeper, and the blacksmith... and so on.

I have a network of mines under my house, with torches and support beams. One day maybe I will make stick people to set up down in the mines, as if they were miners.

But my favorites are the ones that sit on the couch in my house.

Adam, Bree, Leo, Tasha, Mr. Davenport and even Douglas. Each one painstakingly carved from wood with dyed, woolen hair and clothes. It took hours to carve the happy smiles on their faces, and even longer to get the hair of some just right.

And I even have a wooden Eddy etched into a square part of the wooden wall.

My bed isn't much, a bunch of leaves works just fine.

I opened my eyes at the first sign of morning and get up with a yawn. I stretched and changed into the leather/wool clothes I have. I even have a tiger print shirt, made out of an actual tiger skin.

I latch my stone hatchet onto my belt and put my machete in it's holster on my back. I grab my silver whistle and wear it on it's rope around my neck. I grab my bow and it's holster of arrows as well. It helps to be prepared.

I walked down the stairs and paused in front of the couch.

"I'm going out for a little bit, guys," I told the wooden people, "I'll be back later. Adam, don't make jokes about me being scrawny. I'm not scrawny anymore." It's true, I've gotten some muscle, a side effect of the life I lead. Killing, skinning and slicing up my meals and resources is hard work, as well as smashing a pickaxe into stone and ore. The wooden people just smiled their fake smiles, "watch the house for me while I'm gone," I added.

They didn't respond. They never do. They never will.

I walk out the door and a faint smile appears on my face as I pat on the tree in my front yard. It is a mighty oak, with slashes cut into it all up and down it's trunk. There's 457 so far. I gave up hope of being rescued around 365. I carved another line in, as was my morning ritual, bringing the number up to 458.

I blew on my silver whistle and my favorite horse, a black mare that I liked to call Runner, came running to my side. I grabbed her gear out of the chest next to my door and saddled her up before climbing up into the saddle.

I kicked her sides slightly, "yah!" I said sternly. Star snorted and started out into a walk. Upon reaching the butcher's, I tugged slightly on the reins, "whoa," I commanded. She stopped and I dismounted from the saddle.

I walked around back to where I had my boar pen. I pulled out my bow and loaded a diamond arrow, aiming between the eyes of one of the boars before letting go of the arrow.

The boar gave one loud shriek before falling. It twitched once before growing still. Considering it disrespectful to turn away, I saw the light leave it's eyes. I would never get used to that.

I used my molecular kinesis to lift it over the fence and onto the ground where I could reach it.

I picked it up and dragged it inside the butcher building. I took my arrow out of it's head and set it up to roast on the spit. The spit was mechanical, which was good because it meant I could go out to finish what needed done.

I closed the door behind me and climbed back into Star's saddle.

"Yah!" I shouted.

I got her to break into a slow trot and directed the mare down the road towards the fields.

A scream pierced the air, strangely familiar.

I pulled Star up short, and she almost reared in complaint.

I stared in the direction the shout had came from.

Another scream sounded.

And then I was pushing Star into a gallop.