by J M Hamm
“All right,” I said shaking my head. “So, I guess I’ll wait here?”
Being separated terrified me, but I had to trust her judgment. She had kept me alive this long. I would have been plant food without her. Maybe worse.
She began walking away but turned back and looked at me. She hesitated for a moment before opening a pouch on the front of her belt and throwing something small and metallic.
“Take this,” she said.
“What is it?” I asked, catching the small silver disk she had tossed.
“It’s a communication device, we call them relay disks,” she told me. “Press the button in the middle, speak and I’ll hear you. Only. Use. It. For. Emergencies.”
“Sure, but what should I call you? Do you have a callsign or a codename? Or…?”
“Catayla. Call me Catayla. But only in an emergency. If you put me in danger because you get chatty, I will skin you. Remember that.”
“Alright, Catayla. I’ll wait here.”
I smiled as I spoke her name. She responded with a scowl, turning away to stalk into a line of trees that ringed the park. It felt good to finally give her a name, even if she did punctuate the reveal with threats of violence. Making friends already, I thought. I’d take what I could get.
“Well,” I sighed, “I guess I’ll just make myself comfortable here.”
I found a bench that had been spared the devastation. Even better, it had yet to be covered by the explosive growth of the local flora. The bench was old and made of solid cast iron, not too comfortable, but my aching feet didn’t care.
On a plaque welded to the frame of the bench was a single sentence. “In loving memory of John, devoted father and husband.” Nothing more, no last name or biography. As I laid back on the bench, I thought of him, this John. Who was he? I knew only that he had left behind those who loved him. Those words etched into black metal had survived even the apocalypse. Too few had been so lucky.
I sat and waited.
***
“God,” I said. “So, what must your parents think about you two moving out to California? Liv’s dad can’t be too happy about her going to Berkeley.”
Behind me, Troy paused the TV. Ignoring the Gamecocks was something I had never seen him do. As soon as the TV quieted, Troy began to laugh. He expertly dodged the pillow Liv tossed at him.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Liv answered. She glared at Troy, holding up a pillow threateningly as he tried to stifle a laugh. “Well, he’ll get over it.”
I swatted a fly that was buzzing around my ear. I looked down at the tiny speck of blood between my fingers.
“I’m actually kind of glad to get out of here,” Troy said. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to move a few thousand miles away from that ugly mug of yours.”
“Troy be nice,” Liv said.
“I’m happy for you guys, really. Once I finish my degree in a couple of years … who knows? Maybe I’ll end up on the west coast too. Things just haven’t been the same since … Cat, my dad.”
I saw Troy and Liv exchange a glance before Liv stormed from the room with tear stained eyes.
“Shit … Liv, I’m …”
“Just leave her be,” Troy stood in front of me. “It’s good for her, really. We hardly ever talk about it.”
“I know, I’m sorry. Maybe I should just go …”
“It’s your fault, you know,” Troy said.
“Troy, I …” I looked over to my friend. He held his face in his hands, but something black was oozing out from between his fingers. It wriggled and buzzed, filling the air around him.
“Troy!” I began to back away.
Troy looked up at me, but my friend was gone. His eyes were wide and lidless, and his lips had been pinned back into a rigor mortis grin. A black cloud of flies buzzed around him. They bit at his skin, leaving behind thick streaks of blood.
“She’s dead,” Not-Troy yelled. “She’s dead because of you.”
I turned to run and nearly collided with Liv. Her face was pale and bloated. Her flaxen hair was matted and beginning to fall out in clumps. In her arms she held a small corpse, rocking it back and forth.
“It’s your fault, Gus. It’s you ...”
***
I gasped awake from the dream and fell to the ground screaming while holding my hands over my ears. Had I been asleep? I was almost certain that I hadn’t. Was I having nightmares while I was awake now? That was a weakness I couldn’t afford.
My head felt like it had been split open, but I managed to contain my screams. I was making too much of a commotion. I sat up and moved back until my shoulders rested against the seat of the bench.
What was that?
The memory was a recent one, it had happened just hours before the Hegemony and eldritch monsters had destroyed life as I knew it. God, Earth had literally been invaded by aliens.
Despite having happened less than two weeks ago, I found that the memory itself was hazy. I couldn’t remember the details of the real memory. Only the dream remained. Shit, I replayed the memory over and over. Nothing changed.
I could feel the wrongness of the memory, I knew it didn’t happen that way. I just couldn’t conjure the real memories, as if they had been supplanted. Replaced. Perhaps this is what Sebbit had warned me about?
I shook my head and stood. This couldn’t distract me now. I didn’t have a solution, and I had no idea what the Peacekeepers would do if they found out I had lied. Dissect me or throw me in a hole and forget me, no doubt.
It was better for me to focus on what I could do.
I was supposed to be staying alert, waiting for Catayla. The bridge was in view of the park, but a line of trees obstructed my view. I got down on my belly and I crept forward, pushing a few branches aside to get a better view.
Catayla had long since disappeared, but I watched the tiny silhouettes atop the barricade of cars and scrap metal. I was not the only survivor. If they had lived, then others could have as well. Perhaps even Liv … or Troy. My mother.
My mom might even be here. She would have been downtown when everything happened. I had to hold onto the hope that she was alive. That everyone was alive. I might even be able to track down information about Liv and Troy. The thought made me recall the dream. Troy’s twisted grin and lidless eyes were now a permanent part of my memories.
I was trying to move forward to get a better view of the bridge when I heard a snap behind me.
Reacting on instinct I rolled to the side. A watermelon sized stone landed where my head had been. Dust flooded my eyes, as small specks of debris struck my face.
I jumped to my feet, stumbling. I still hadn’t learned to compensate for my new strength. My mistake caused me to catch a small, crudely crafted spear in the shoulder. I yelled as I grasped the shaft and pulled the weapon free.
The spear had punctured my leather jacket but barely scratched the grey jumpsuit. My shoulder, however, still screamed in pain when I tried to move it. I could already feel it beginning to bruise and swell.
I activated arcane shield just as a small furry creature slammed into my midsection, carrying me back into the dirt. It began to rake at my shield with small, vicious claws. It screamed as I stabbed it with its own spear.
The creature was basically humanoid in shape but had a canine snout and was entirely covered by a thick coat of brown fur. I activated Analyze, hoping for some insight into this fresh hell that sought to kill me: Nothing useful. At least I knew I was getting my ass kicked by a creature that was a higher level than me.
Gnoll (Lesser). Skirmisher. Level 6.
I launched the creature off me with a kick. Before it had hit the ground, I followed up with an Arcane Bolt and two Arcane Missiles. I never saw them strike, however, as I was immediately hit by another spear, this time in my left thigh.
I had learned in my spars with Talith that my arcane shield would be down for a fraction of a second whenever I cast another spell. My greed to finish off the creature had cost me. I needed
to be more cautious, fight smart.
Fight defensive, use the terrain. Wait for your opportunity. I remembered the words of my father.
My left leg burned in pain and it gave out as I tried to stand. I needed to make room. I rolled to the side, but two more of the creatures appeared from the trees.
My vision was filled with nothing but claws, fangs, and fur. My arcane shield was blocking the damage, but I knew if I used an offensive spell those claws would make it to my exposed neck and eyes.
Suddenly, one of the creatures was lifted into the air. Its partner stared upward in confusion, creating an opportunity for me to strike.
With my left hand, I pulled the collapsed staff from my belt. I pressed a small, repressed button and the staff slid to its full length, the sound of metal running over metal echoing. The creature was too close for me to get any leverage, but I was able to use the staff to lift the creature off of me. I sent him flying backward with a powerful, two-legged kick.
I jumped up and began bashing the stunned gnoll’s skull. My handiwork wasn’t graceful or beautiful, but it was effective. The monster twitched a final time, before stilling forever. I panted as I looked around me.
I heard a growl, as something heavy and foul smelling landed on my back. It began to claw and bite, leaving long white lines in the blue membrane of my Arcane Shield. My mana was slowly draining. Forty percent … another series of bites and it was down to only thirty.
I reached back and grabbed the creature by the scruff of its neck, slowly prying it from my back. It scratched and struck at my arm. My mana slowly dwindled, but the shield continued to hold. Finally, I tore it free. I threw it to the ground and began striking with my boot and staff. I heard it whimper but I didn’t stop until it was silent.
I looked around, but nothing moved. I had been lucky. I hadn’t won through skill or Skills. I won merely by virtue of being larger and better equipped. It was a chilling realization. If there had been more of them, or if I had been a little less lucky, I would be dead.
I heard a gasp and turned to find one of the gnolls still alive, clutching at its throat. Its eyes looked glazed and were unable to focus as they stared up at me. It claws pulled uselessly at a thin silver chain wrapped around its throat.
I could have saved the creature, but I watched. When the deed was done, the chain floated upward and wrapped itself around my wrist. If this was the kind of gift she gave a stranger … I really fucked up not letting the archmage train me.
Congratulations! 3,000 XP gained!
… Calculating Low-Level Bonus ... XP total: 4,500.
Congratulations! You have leveled up.
Congratulations! You have leveled up.
You have four (4) unallocated stats points remaining.
Checking my status, I confirmed that I was now level three. My stats, however, remained unchanged. Either the only advantage of leveling was the paltry number unallocated stats, or I was missing the benefits of a class.
Perhaps I should delay leveling as much as possible, I thought. At least until I learn more.
Talith had refused to give me any guidance on the matter, claiming she had only been tasked with giving me combat training. I suspected that the sergeant enjoyed watching me suffer. I would just have to figure this out as I went.
I briefly considered saving my stat gains for later. Hell no, I decided. These are real stats. I justified it by telling myself, I need every advantage to survive. The truth was, I was giddy at the chance to level up.
All of the stats were tempting, but my build already highly favored Intellect and Mind Over Body allowed me to ‘double dip’ in a way. Min-max for the win.
I poured all four points into Intellect, to a total of twenty-six, but my Might was unaffected. Apparently, the gains from Mind Over Body didn’t round.
I smiled as I glanced at my status screen, but my mood immediately fell as I remembered the dead bodies that were scattered around me. I should do something with them. I at least needed to avoid attracting scavengers.
I gathered all the gnolls into a single pile, before realizing one was missing. The original attacker, the one that I had struck with Arcane Missiles, had fled. I circled the small park and found a line in the dirt. The dirt and grass were spotted with drops of blood, all leading in a single direction. The creatures had crawled into the trees.
I followed, my ready weapon. I found it dead, its head slumped into its chest as it leaned against a tree. Clutched in its hand was a small doll made of woven grass. The gnoll looked as though it may have only been sleeping. I bashed its head, to be safe, and threw it into the pile with the others.
Now to decide what to do. Should I burn the bodies? Bury them?
Burning would attract too much attention, and I didn’t have the tools to dig graves. I did the best I could by dragging the bodies out of sight and covering them with dirt and rocks. I felt like I should do more, and I was considering saying a few words when I heard a voice behind me.
“If I was an enemy you’d be dead,” I felt the side of a baton slide against my throat.
I grunted and pushed her away, not in the mood to play games. I knew she was stronger than me, but she let me go without a struggle. Perhaps she saw the grief in my eyes, or just didn’t care enough to continue toying with me.
“I see you were busy,” she said. Her scaled hand was pointing towards the cairns where I had buried the gnolls.
Now she wants to talk.
“I took care of it,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Eleven: Of Class and Men
“So … we’re a team, right?”
“My primary orders are to establish communication with the natives,” Catalya said. “My mission to escort you ends as soon as we arrive.”
“Sure, makes sense.” I stopped walking and looked at her. “Humans are known for their trust of outsiders. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble fitting in.”
She stood there for a moment, eyes half-lidded. I wasn’t sure if my attempt at sarcasm had gone over her head.
“That… so what do you propose?”
“Well, you’ve helped me out, I doubt I’d have made it this far on my own. Not alive anyway. I say we stick together a bit longer.”
“So, an alliance? You help me in return for me helping you?”
“Well, let’s just call it friends helping friends, shall we?” I said putting on my best smile and holding my hands out wide. “Besides, I’m pretty sure that’s what Sebbit intended. What do you say?”
“I’d say we’re not friends.” She stared at me for a moment to let her words sink in. “Your proposal, however, is not entirely without merit. I will continue to protect you, and in exchange, you will put me in touch with the leaders of the human settlement.”
“Charleston.”
“Wha ...,” Catalya began.
“I mean the ‘human settlement’ is called Charleston. It’s my home.”
“Your home is important to you.”
Catalya stopped walking and turned to look at me. “My home, too, is important. I hope to see it once again before I die.”
I wasn’t an expert at alien facial clues, but she seemed lost in thought and perhaps a bit melancholy. Her head was held slightly to the side, and she briefly closed her eyes. It was remarkable how human-like she could appear at times. Even with the blue scales and slit pupils.
“Die? You can’t be that old…”
“Do not patronize me little monkey,” she snapped. “I will not be made a mockery of because of my scales. I am a woman and a warrior of my people. Not a... a child.”
She smiled in a way that exposed two rows of pointed teeth. “Do you understand?”
“I…” I stammered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, well do whatever it is I did. Whatever your age, you’re twice, tens times, as capable as I am. I just meant it seems a little premature to be talking about death is all.”
She sighed and waited a few moments before answering.
“I, to
o, apologize, Augustus Finn. The subject of my perceived age is a sore subject, one I hope you will forget we ever crossed.” The seven-foot warrior stared down at me for several seconds before I realized she was waiting for a response.
“Right, of course,” I said. “We never talked about it. Also, it’s just Finn, not Augustus. No Mr. Finn … just Finn.”
“Alright, Finn. Shall we continue then? It’s a long walk and we should try to arrive before the sun sets.”
“Alright then,” I said smiling wide. I was trying my best to channel my inner used car salesman. “So how about we talk about something else?”
“If you are going to ask about my home, then the answer is no. We should keep moving, silently.”
“Oh, it’s not that,” I said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to hear stories of your home. I mean we're talking about an alien planet. But no, what I wanted to ask you about was classes.”
She began walking once more, taking us behind the ruins of a college baseball stadium. The field had become overgrown with grasses, vines, and flowers of all hues. The diamond was a wild garden, only home plate was still visible. The stands had mostly collapsed, but an occasional glimpse of aluminum seating could still be seen through the earth and weeds.
“Classes? There isn’t much I can tell you about classes that you don’t already know.”
“I just need to know how I get one.”
“You entered the dungeon, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“Acquiring a class at a dungeon is the most popular way. You choose from one of seven standard classes, each well researched with clearly outlined and explored progression trees. This knowledge makes these classes extremely powerful for those with the proper guidance, but the weaknesses and abilities of these classes are also well known and documented.
“Entire fields of research are dedicated to the optimal progression of the so-called standard classes. Some of the highest-level data is restricted and known only to a few of the most ancient and powerful families.”
It’s good to know elitism still existed, I thought. Maybe humans and aliens weren’t so different.