I can’t start off behind.
Do I just choose a random person?
Can I even bring myself to...
I took another slow breath to slow my racing heart.
I have until noon tomorrow.
Which means I can figure it out tomorrow morning.
Just focus on prepping right now.
I returned to the front door and clutched the doorknob. I couldn’t open it. It was another door, even more terrifying than the last. I knew what was in there, but I couldn’t face it. Not again. I leaned my head against the door and focused on my breathing.
They’re all...
I rubbed Aurora’s back.
I need supplies.
For her.
That’s all that matters.
That’s all I need to think about.
I moved through the house quickly, stuffing the car with anything potentially useful. I used a few boxes from the garage to attempt to organize everything, but the car still ended up resembling a hoarder’s house. I made sure to not fill the car up to the point where my vision would be blocked though. I’d seen enough movies to know that other people, even outside the trials, were the most dangerous part of the end of the world. I wanted to at least see them coming.
I returned to the house and gave it a final look through, avoiding the rooms I couldn’t handle. A faint scraping sounded from somewhere within the house. I froze. The scraping happened again, followed by a faint gurgle.
Something is trying to break in?
I grabbed the chef knife I had exchanged the steak knife with, and a calm confidence flooded my body. I adjusted my grip. The blade had activated something within me. This had to be the skill that came with my class, Basic Blade Proficiency. I now understood what Ami meant by the need to synchronize with your class.
It felt like I was remembering knowledge I had once been taught but had forgotten. When I held the knife, a fragment of that knowledge resurfaced and coalesced into an action I had done before and just needed to do again. As I followed the prompting and adjusted my grip on the knife’s handle, a part of my mind that I hadn’t realized was tense relaxed. It was as if I had held the knife correctly a thousand times before, and I would be able to do so again without thinking.
A dozen similar prompts followed: how to stand, how to walk, how to breathe, how to look, how to position my body, and how to proceed forward. They weren’t compulsions but subtle nudges indicating the proper way. It was impossible to follow all of them, but the ones I did follow led to a cascade of new guidance. It was simultaneously exhilarating and frightening.
Is this going to change who I am?
Turn me into something I’m not?
Someone I don’t want to be?
The warmth against my chest eased my aching heart.
The cost doesn’t matter.
Listening intently, I made my way back to the front door where I had stashed the sad excuse of a shield I had found—a wicker basket lid about two feet in diameter. I grabbed the lid and cautiously followed the sound through the house, chef knife in my right hand and wicker basket lid in my left. My equipment made me feel foolish, but only for a moment; the flow state my class put me in instantly deepened, pushing all uncertainty to the side. I was meant to use these together.
Battle plans raced through my mind as I crept through the house. I was again surprised at my class. It knew I wielded the worst-ever excuse for a shield, and so it suggested ways to make the most of what I had. It didn’t suggest I block but instead distract, feint, and parry. It must also be doing the same for the knife, taking into account its short blade and dull edge. I simply hadn’t noticed it.
I eventually found myself in the living room, where everything started. A single green limb thrashed wildly from beneath the toppled dresser where we kept the family board games. Faint gurgling growls bubbled up from beneath.
A gremlin.
That’s what the demon called them.
I knelt and peered under the dresser. A gremlin lay on its side, one of its arms twisted and pinned. The jagged top half of a Mountain Dew can sat a few inches from its mouth. I counted the gremlins I knew to be dead.
Five dead...
Six people...
It’s one of ours.
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I considered trying to find some place to stash Aurora while I fought, but everything would only get more dangerous from here on out. Who knew if something like a safe zone existed. I doubted it. There wouldn’t be a better time to learn how to fight with her than now. I took several deep breaths before using my shield hand to shove the dresser back against the wall.
The gremlin scrambled onto its feet, rising to stand just above my knees. It wandered aimlessly for a bit until its eyes landed on me. Grinning widely, it squared up and jumped. Following the promptings, I swung my shield through the air and stepped to the side. The rim of the basket lid clipped the gremlin’s outstretched hands, knocking it off course and onto the ground.
I stepped forward into a stab but somehow stepped wrong, throwing myself off balance. I took a clumsy second and third step to keep from falling and lunged to still make the attack. The blade scraped against the gremlin’s hide before it scrambled away.
I raised the shield just in time to catch the gremlin as it leapt again. Its claws tore through the makeshift shield on either side of my hand. The handle twisted, and the lid swung under the creature’s weight. Its claws ripped free from the shield, and the beast fell.
I stabbed repeatedly at the gremlin as it rolled on the floor, face down. The blade would catch for a moment before sliding down to the side, pushing me off balance. The creature flipped over and grasped at me with its claws. I knocked its hands to the side with the shield and hopped back.
My heart pounded in my chest. My stomach churned. The gremlin had been an inch or two away from grazing Aurora. The beast stood and climbed onto the couch. A bead of sweat rolled down my forehead. The subtle prompts were impossible to follow once I started doing anything. I forced myself to take a deep breath and pushed the fear down.
The monster crouched and snapped its teeth in the air. Its foot slipped. I was in motion before I realized I had moved. My shield met its body as it hit the floor, pinning it to the ground. I stabbed, and the blade slid down its side again. Growling, I pressed the tip into its skin and gradually increased the pressure.
The gremlin kicked and gurgled until, with a pop, the blade pierced its hide. Its legs twitched a few times before falling still. I pushed myself to my feet. My hands trembled. I stared down at the dead monster. Acidic bile bubbled up into my throat. I spat and leaned forward on my knees, breathing deeply.
It was over so fast. One moment the battle was evenly matched, a winner unclear—and then it was dead.
I buried the panic attack threatening to surface deep inside me and confirmed Aurora was fine. Wearing her as I fought slightly threw off my center of balance but restricted my range of motion less than I expected. With a bit more practice, I was confident I could fight with her without issue.
I took a few more breaths to calm myself before gathering up the last of the supplies and heading back out to the car. I gave the neighbors another look.
I’ll drive by and check to see if they’re in need of any help.
Leaving Aurora on my chest, I climbed into the car and made my way down my long driveway and onto the road. The normal quiet of the countryside that only yesterday I found serine now weighed oppressively on my ears.
I pulled the car into the Oakley’s driveway, the closest of the neighbors, and shifted the car into park but kept it running. Taking only the knife, I walked up to their front door and knocked three times. Several seconds of silence passed. I raised my hand to knock again when erratic movement inside interrupted me. Two dull thuds hit the door, followed by the all-too-familiar gurgling.
It was expected, but a new pain again pierced my heart.
I returned to the car and moved onto the next house. I drove up Aunty Kim’s driveway but pulled a U-turn in her front yard when I saw a dozen cats laying on her prone form in the front yard. Thankfully, her gremlin was nowhere in sight. I ignored the empty house and continued to the small shack Arty stayed in. I wasn’t even sure he was in town at the moment and not out hunting, but I was going to check anyway.
I drove down his windy gravel driveway, the thick, unkempt trees blocking out the evening sun. I turned around before parking, leaving the car running. The shadowy yard put me further on edge. I walked up to the front door and knocked three times.
Something shuffled around inside. “Who the fuck is making house calls at a time like this?” a gruff voice growled out from behind the door. “Get out of here before I make you a second asshole.”
Relief flooded me, and I couldn’t help but smile at hearing the familiar voice. “It’s me, Dan Atkins. Checking on the neighbors to see if anyone else made it and needed help.”
A moment of silence passed.
“The door’s unlocked.”
I turned the handle and stepped into a small rustic cottage with only the bare essential amenities. A grizzled man in his fifties sat in an armchair, double-barrel shotgun across his lap. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot. Dark-red blood soaked through a bandage on his side.
“You’re hurt!” I stepped forward before remembering I had medical supplies in the car. “I’ve got supplies in the—”
“It’s fine. I’ve had worse.” Arty grimaced as he shifted how he sat. “I’ll live.” He gestured to the small couch beside him. “Sit.”
I hesitated for a moment before taking a seat. Arty’s eyes followed me across the room. I glanced around the room nervously, spotting a buckshot-filled gremlin in the kitchen, before speaking up. “I’m glad you’re alive. Is there anything I can help you with? You’re welcome to bunker down with me if you’d like.” I regretted the words the moment I said them. I was already against the idea of teaming up in general, and an old, injured vet wasn’t exactly going to change my mind.
Arty chuckled and met my gaze. “Did the missus or the boys make it?”
His words pierced right to my heart and forced me to look away. “No. Just me and Aurora.” I rubbed Aurora’s back as I struggled to keep the tears back.
“That’s right. I heard you were expecting again.”
His words bounced off me as I wrangled my emotions back in. Several minutes of silence passed without my noticing.
Arty sighed. “You know, I think there is something you can help me with.”
I tried to discreetly wipe my eyes. “Yeah? What?”
“I’m six months from sixty, and it’s been over a decade since I last ran due to my knees. The ER would have patched me up fine, but I’ll die from infection before the aliens get me.”
Unsure of where he was going with this, I looked up at him in time to catch the shotgun.
“You’ve still got something to fight for and are in need of that reward.” Arty tapped the side of his head. “Just don’t fucking miss. Chose the worst weekend to go bow hunting, so that’s the last cartridge I have.”
“You... what? You want me to shoot you?” The bit of confidence I had earlier at doing whatever it took instantly broke when faced with making a real decision. “No, I can’t. I—”
“Shut up and listen to me. I’ve held more than one brother in my arms as they died on the battlefield, and not a single one of them regretted dying if it meant we lived to fight another day. There isn’t a greater gift than a purposeful death.”
Arty breathed slowly in and back out. “I would betray my country and burn the world if it gave me one more day with one of my sons. I can’t think of a greater honor than giving you one with your daughter.”
“But you don’t even know—”
“I don’t give a fuck. A chance beats dying in two days from some random bullshit.”
The sincerity in his eyes pierced deep into my soul. “I...”
Arty shifted and pulled out a picture with the top right corner burned. Him as a younger man held two teenage boys by their necks, each grinning like it was the best day of their lives.
My innocence cried out in protest again, but resolve had finally found its footing. My hands moved on their own as I stood and aimed the shotgun.
“Place it right against the skin so you don’t miss.” His voice was steady and confident. “It’ll be messy with the shotgun, so be ready to look away if you’re queasy. Good luck out there.”
I pressed the gun against his skull and closed my eyes.
Whatever it takes.
I pulled the trigger.
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