Sacrifice: CYOA

Dust jumps up and stings you tired eyes as you trudge along the railway track. In the distance, you can see a giant dust cloud approaching.

"That's gonna be a problem..." You watch the thing swell in front of you. Turning tail, you run like you never ran before. The stinger case slaps nosily against your side, making you wince every time the lock cuts your hide.

The race to Dodge was harrowing, but you barely made it into the relative safety of an abandoned railway train. The sand whips through the holes in the rusting metal chassis. You scrabble inside your field pack for some dressings, and perhaps a bottle of beer or some alcohol.

Instead, you find a ripped scarf, and a bottle of cider. It will have to do... You lay them on the floor, preparing to cover your injuries.

Suddenly, the glass bottle shatters. Not by some telekinesis magic, but with a bullet.

A fifty caliber Anti-personnel flechette bullet. You think to yourself as you examine the hole. The brown cider drips onto the sandy ground.

A howl echos through the camp. That is also worth noting... You think to yourself.

What do you want to investigate?

The Sniper

The Howls

Buck that shit, I'm treating my wounds!