Chương 7: Inventory Management

7. Inventory M anagement When the goblins were dead, the bougainvilleas disintegrated in seconds, vanishing into dust. The bodies lay face-down on the ground, so shredded it looked like a maniac with a weed eater had tried to carve them into mulch. I'd put the warrior out of his misery first, stabbing him in the throat with the sharp edge of my shovel. Piercing Force made a mockery of the leather around his neck, and +10 Sharpness wasn't nothing. The tracker had been second.

He'd already been down, face in the moss, so I'd smashed the back of his head until the bougainvilleas disappeared. I wanted to go home more than I had ever wanted anything in my entire life. It was a bizarre but dubious comfort to remember the spice gumdrops stuffed down my shirt. It felt oddly disrespectful to loot the bodies, as if I should say something over them before I made them disappear. They could have killed me. They would have killed me, if it weren't for my shovel.

But they'd seemed aware in a way that the rampaging mini versions hadn't, and their deaths felt real to me in a way that none of the others had. Except for that first squirrel. That had felt real. I'd killed it less than five hours ago. I blew out a long breath, closed my eyes for a second, and got to work. The nearest body belonged to the tracker. I bent down and touched it. He vanished, leaving behind a dog treat bag. I blinked. It looked exactly like my all-time favorite dog treat bag, except new, not well-worn.

Top-Paw, made out of some durable coated deep-blue fabric, with a long shoulder strap, a belt clip, a zipper pocket on the outside, and a magnetic closure on the pouch itself. Did it have liver treats inside? Was this Zelda's version of spice gumdrops?

But the sunglasses kicked in as I looked at it, the floating words popping into existence: Name: K9 Companion Pouch Type: Spatial storage Grade: Rare Bound to: Olivia Thorne Condition: Perfect Attributes: Weight Reduction: 80% Quick Access Slots: 5 Dimensional Storage: 4 cubic units (manual access only) Nice! I scooped it up with no further hesitation, slung the long strap over my head cross-body style, then clipped the pouch to my waistband for added security. Now, how did I use it?

I unzipped the outer pocket and slipped my hand inside. Oh, that was weird. I could tell immediately that these were the five quick-access slots. It was like recognizing sections of a silverware drawer, an intuitive understanding of how the space was meant to be used. I knew, too, that I could use the same slot for a protein bar or Warden's Edge. Size didn't matter. Physics was officially broken. I glanced at my shovel.

I'd been clutching it for so long that my fingers felt molded around the handle, like it was some prosthetic extension of my arm. It had saved my life multiple times over, and I wasn't quite ready to trust it to a magic pocket. At this point, I'd probably be sleeping with it, like my very own post-apocalyptic teddy bear. I took my hand out of the zipper pocket and tried the magnetic pouch.

My arm disappeared into what should have been a small container, sinking deeper and deeper until I was shoulder-deep in impossible space. Four cubic units didn't mean anything to me, given that I had no idea what the units were, but I was pretty sure I could fit everything I'd collected so far in there with room to spare. Time to relocate the supplies currently stuffed down my shirt. I fished the gumdrops out first. Maybe I'd hang on to those for a bit, just in case.

I tucked them into the crook of my elbow and held them against my body while I grabbed the book and the spool of wire. I dropped both items into the pouch, then peered into the opening. It was empty, as far as I could tell. But when I reached inside, my fingers found the book immediately, then the wire. Interesting. Curious, I pulled my hand out and tried a different approach. This time I slipped just my fingertips past the magnetic closure, barely breaching the entrance. I couldn't feel a thing.

But when I thought wire, the spool materialized against my fingers. All right, that was cool. I pulled the extra protein bars out of my back pockets. They were a little squashed now, thanks to the number of times I'd landed on them, but I dropped them into the pouch. I patted my front jeans pocket. The folding knife was still there. Did I want to risk sticking it in a quick-access slot? Maybe later. I'd need to run some experiments, see how it appeared when I tried to access it.

Ideally, it would pop into my hand with the blade open, but that would be less than ideal if it immediately sliced my fingers or stabbed my palm. Gumdrops next. I wasn't going to march through the forest with a shovel in one hand, a bag of candy in the other, but I hesitated all the same. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Then I slid them into the zipper pocket, fitting them into the first quick-access slot, and mentally crossed my fingers with the kind of fierce hope that probably counted as praying, even if I knew no one was listening. If they disappeared… well, it wouldn't be a tragedy. Not one on the scale of having your face melted or getting caught in killer bougainvilleas, anyway. And definitely nothing compared to whatever had likely happened to those twelve… Automatically, my gaze flicked to the numbers. 11/24. …

to those thirteen other participants. But still. It would suck to lose them. I held out my hand, palm open in front of me. Gumdrops, I thought. The bag popped back into existence with a soft thump on my hand, and I closed my fingers around it with a gasp of gratitude that was almost a yelp. Immediately, I stilled before sweeping a cautious glance around my surroundings. I was still in prime goblin territory, and I really didn't want to attract any new adversaries just now. I held my breath and listened.

Nothing moved. Good. Because I hadn't even begun to total the damage from the last ones yet. I was standing, kudos to me, but I'd whacked my knee hard, and it was throbbing hot and bright. My arms ached from swinging the shovel like a sledgehammer, and I was pretty sure bruises were popping out all over my body like mushrooms in my yard after a stormy day. I'd be sore even if all I'd done today was the gardening I'd planned. I really wasn't in the kind of shape that battling monsters warranted. I hurt.

So, okay, no more monsters. I'd get the stuff from this last body and then tiptoe back to Zelda and Jack. I'd drink some water, eat some gumdrops, and figure out my next steps once I was sure my girl was safe. I put the bag of gumdrops back into the slot with only a tinge of regret. Later, I promised myself, hoping it wasn't a lie. If I died before eating those gumdrops, I was gonna be really, really pissed. I limped my way over to where the warrior's body lay and reached down to touch him.

He vanished, leaving behind a small blue vial and a silver ring. My jaw dropped. Was that blue vial…? I grabbed for it, almost toppling over in my eagerness. Come on, sunglasses, I thought. Do your thing. [Minor Healing Potion: Restores moderate health over time. Single use.] Yes! I clutched it as if it were made of gold. Just what we needed. Just what… we… needed. I looked down at my knee. Ugh.

I stuffed the vial into a quick-access slot with only minor internal protest, scooped up the silver ring, and looked around for my trail markers. The first was right next to me, of course, since that's what the goblins had been pointing out when I killed them, but the next was equally easy to find. I started limping toward it. The silver ring sat heavy in my palm. I should look at it. Maybe it would be helpful. But I needed to move.

I needed to not let my thoughts spiral in the way they were oh-so-inevitably spiraling. Jack's face was melted. Melted. That trumped a busted knee, right? Basic triage. Worst injury first. Except if I couldn't walk, I couldn't protect anyone. Couldn't hunt for more potions. I caught myself limping toward a tree I hadn't marked and corrected course. My knee had moved past throbbing into outright rebellion. Each step sent a spike of pain shooting up my thigh. I paused, not sure where I was going.

The ring's edges bit into my palm where I was gripping it too tightly. I found the next marked tree and headed toward it. The potion was right there. One quick sip and I'd be mobile again. Jack was unconscious anyway. What were the odds he'd die in the next hour while I tried to find another potion? What were the odds I'd even find another one? Would it take another twenty murdered goblins? I stopped again, looking around until my sunglasses helpfully put [Marked Oak Tree: Trail Marker] on a nearby tree.

I kept going. Sixty-seven hours. Eleven people left. Do the math. Focus. Follow the slashes. Get back to Zelda. I limped my way to the next tree. The potion stayed where it was. Fuck it. I stopped walking, leaning against the tree. Closed my eyes. Took a deep breath. If I healed Jack, he could help. He could throw fireballs, for fuck's sake. Together, we could kill tons of goblins. All the goblins. We'd go on a goblin-slaughtering rampage and wind up with a lifetime supply of protein bars.

All the protein bars would be ours. Or... his injuries might be too serious for a minor healing potion to do much good. In which case, I would have wasted that single use of moderate health. And I'd be stuck with a knee that felt like a fire had taken up residence inside the joint, trying to keep us alive a little longer. I stabbed the blade of Warden's Edge into the ground.

I was tempted to sink to the ground and take a break while sitting, maybe even pull out my gumdrops, but I wasn't sure I'd be able to get back up again if I did. I didn't need to decide right away. Sure, my knee hurt, but it wasn't stopping me from walking. I wasn't desperate. And Jack… well, he'd made it through the first two hours, but for all I knew, he was dead now. That would make all my agonizing over this decision feel really stupid. I could wait until I saw him again to make a decision.

I leaned my back against the tree trunk and looked up at the branches overhead. The sunglasses did their thing after I'd been still for a minute, words flickering into life. [Oak Tree]. I sighed and moved to take them off, then remembered the ring in my hand. I looked down at it. It was a simple silver band, with tiny etched hash marks in an almost familiar pattern. [Hunter's Ring: +10 Tracking] popped into existence above it. I choked out a laugh. Of course.

The pattern was like bird tracks: three dashes for the claws, meeting in the middle with a smaller dash leading in the other direction, and wandering across the wider silver band. I slipped the ring onto my finger. Nothing changed, except somehow I understood the world differently. I could see my own path back to where I'd fought the goblins as if it were outlined in light. Except it wasn't. There was no light and no outline. Just an awareness that a person—specifically me—had wandered this way from that direction.

And wandered was right. My tracks were all over the place. I was definitely not using the direct route. In the other direction, my trail back to Zelda and Jack was even more defined. It had intentionality to it, as if the effort of marking it had made it resonate. It wasn't glowing. It wasn't highlighted. But it was so obviously present as a trail that it might as well have been. +10 Tracking didn't change the way my eyes saw the world.

Instead, it was like I could read the landscape now, like my surroundings were written in a language I suddenly understood. I held my hand up to my sunglasses and stared at the ring until the words flowed. Name: Hunter's Ring Type: Ring Grade: Epic Attributes: +10 Tracking Epic. Yeah, I didn't know what the grading range of the equipment in this challenge scenario was, but this ring was a definite score. I took the sunglasses off and tucked them into a quick-access slot.

Now that I had the ring on, I could quit with the annoying floating words for a while. I pushed my way off the tree and started limping along again. The forest felt like a different place while wearing the ring. My original sense that it was profoundly wrong deepened. There weren't enough trails. There weren't enough animals. Okay, admittedly, the forest I knew best was, relatively speaking, huge. The Ocala National Forest covers about six hundred square miles.

But a trail cam in my neighborhood would record squirrels, opossums, raccoons, white-tailed deer, foxes, skunks, bobcats, coyotes, river otters, wild boars, Florida panthers, and black bears. At the bare minimum. Alligators, too, of course. Not to mention the birds big enough to trigger a camera: sandhill cranes, herons, anhingas, wild turkeys, hawks, bald eagles, vultures… You get the idea. Normal forests have wildlife. This forest had goblins. I could see their trails, here and there.

There was also at least one larger animal or species of monster that I couldn't identify, but which broke a fair number of low branches when it moved between close trees. The other human participants were here somewhere, too, of course, but I didn't spot any of their trails. But even given that I was in a fairly small area—I'd probably hiked no more than a couple miles away from the clearing where I'd started—there should have been more to see. More life. This forest was fake. If the forest was fake…

what else was fake? I'd suspected I was hallucinating ever since this experience began. But if I was hallucinating this forest, I would have done a better job.