Apocalypse Summoner: A LitRPG Adventure by DB King

Author:DB King [King, DB]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aethon Books
Published: 2024-04-10T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

There are things you love. And there are things that grate on your nerves like a fork being pushed, tines down, hard across a plate. And oftentimes those things are one and the same.

For me, my old man fell into this category. All parents, of course, have an impact on their kids. That can’t be helped. Children, like miniature humanoids crafted of immaculate and unsullied glass, absorb the prints of those whose care they were in. Try as they might, most parents leave a smudge or two. Others caused cracks, and a few of the less careful ones managed to shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces. Pieces that couldn’t be repaired and that cut whenever they were ever handled.

I was not one of these, thankfully, but man, my dad could get under my skin when he wanted to. I was in that clichéd category of sons—although I would never have admitted this to him—who wanted to please their dad more than anyone in their lives. And he was the one guy who never seemed particularly proud of anything I did. Much of that attitude had been passed on from his dad. They had built the family ranch together from basically nothing, and the fact that I’d wanted to go and see what else was on offer in the world had pissed him off to no end.

Both he and my grandad were men who believed steadfastly in the notion that working hard for something you didn’t care about was called stress, while working your hands to the bone for something you loved was called passion.

Donato Russo was a master horseman, but he was also an expert at riding my ass. Just when he had driven me to the point where I thought the only way I was going to be able to articulate my annoyance with him was with a tire iron, he would come out with some gruff remark about how he was happy I was with him or that I wasn’t doing too much of a half-assed job of something. And, with that, my Pissed-O-Meter would be reset.

With this in mind, I wasn’t super-duper surprised when we busted our way out of the retirement home with the two surviving members of Dad’s little squad, and the first thing the old man said was, “Ain’t done much of a job cleaning up these shambling sons of guns, kid.”

He was right, technically speaking. There were a shit load more zombies outside the fire exit we had made our breakthrough than there had been when we arrived.

Here we go, I thought.

I vented my frustration by nailing a few of the zombies that were heading our way with the Blazer. The Fire Gem-enhanced weapon blew holes with cauterized edges out of the undead flesh.

“There weren’t any here when we got here, Dad,” I said.

“So you managed to draw them here behind you?”

I ground a tooth and let loose another couple of shots. They punched into a zombie some twenty yards away and took both its legs off at the knees.

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