Chương 87: 85: Rats

Oh, my god. Grenade dropped into jelly. Poor Bear was about ready to go ballistic from the screaming and yelling and people talking over one another, so I promptly dropped to the ground and pulled her head to me, meeting her eyes.

"I know, I know," I whispered.

"People freaking out is scary, I get it. You have nothing to worry about. I promise you are safe. I swear this is just people being jerks and it's not threatening. You don't need to worry." When you rescue a semi-feral guard-dog breed, you make a commitment not to test the instincts of an animal who'd rather kill threats before they become dangers. I was breaking that commitment by keeping her in the middle of a crowd of yelling people. But Bear was actually doing pretty great.

She was letting me know she didn't like what was happening, but she wasn't trying to kill anyone. Good enough. For a fleeting second, I wondered how JJ and Alma were doing. I hoped they were okay and that the rift closure wasn't doing, you know, rift closure things. If JJ were here, he'd be dropping to the ground next to me and telling Bear she was beautiful. In his honor, I told Bear she was beautiful. She stuffed her muzzle into my armpit and told me we needed to leave. Right now.

I froze for a second and then rubbed her ears while I considered options. She was saying she trusted me to get her out of an overwhelming situation. It was unexpected, and I wasn't sure I deserved her trust, but obviously I needed to reward it as quickly as possible. So. I could scream, "Shut the fuck up!" at all participating noisy humans. Bad plan. Or I could just leave. Better plan. I stood, keeping a hand on Bear's neck.

"We'll just wait on the porch," I said, using a loud voice, but not screaming.

"Oh, but the rats," Missy started. The others had reactions, too, but I ignored them, walking back along the hallway we'd just come through, dogs surrounding me, then opening the front door and stepping outside. This porch, like most of the others in the neighborhood, had nice porch furniture. Cushions, even. I took a seat in the chair, ignoring the loveseat, then released my hold on Bear, and said, "Go explore. Only kill monsters, please." I could hear the yelling, but I tried to ignore the words.

None of my business, although I felt for Jack. I did not spend a lot of time (read: none) thinking about my lack of family. Only child of parents who probably should not have had children. My mother—well, the less said about her the better. My father had done his best, but he'd never quite known what to do with me even before I had my first manic episode. Maybe if I'd had aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, it would have balanced out.

A nice sister for my father to take over some of the awkward girl stuff; a cousin who could be the sibling I never had. But I had none of the above. It meant I simultaneously wanted to tell Jack to ditch his family because he'd be fine without them, and to hang on to them with both hands because they were irreplaceable. I didn't know which impulse would be stronger. Maybe it would depend on how long it took someone to come talk to me.

Bear had taken my permission to go explore and loped off, but Zelda and Riley were staying close. Riley lay down at the top of the porch steps, but stayed alert, watching the road. Zelda heaved a sigh and lay down at my feet. I patted my lap, an invitation, and she quirked an ear in my direction. Pfft. Still not a lapdog. Much to my surprise (not), Jack was the one who finally joined me on the porch. It took maybe ten minutes or so, which was fine.

It gave me time to reorder my to-do list, contemplate some of those things I'd been refusing to think about, and fantasize about lunch. The last was by far the most entertaining, even though my options were limited. Durham probably had some interesting restaurants a week ago, but I'd be surprised if any of them were open today.

"Sorry about that," Jack said, as he flopped down onto the couch, perching his feet on the wicker armrest.

"It's been rough."

"You're looking pretty relaxed for someone who should be worrying about whether a swarm of rats is going to come boiling down the street any second." He sighed and draped his arm over his face.

"You took care of the rats, didn't you?"

"What makes you think that?"

"I saw your face when Zelda barked. It wasn't the 'let's worry' expression. It was the 'should I tell them?' look."

"Gotta say, it was a fuck ton of rats. Worse than the goblin camp. Well, except no lizard. And, okay, no moral qualms about killing rats. So not worse than the goblin camp." I leaned forward in my chair.

"Verdant Reprisal triggered, though, and holy shit, it was a thing of beauty. My feelings about bougainvilleas have really changed after this week." Jack choked out a laugh.

"Do you want to come to Emma's enclave? She really wants you there. It's rough in its own way. Safe from monsters, but not safe from villains. Mini-villains, so far, not the super kind."

"Really?" Jack shoved himself upright.

"Politics?"

"How did you ever guess? The mayor is a mind-control mage, I kid you not."

"Whoa. That's an interesting class to get offered right away."

"Level 7, so her evolutionary class." Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

"Huh."

"Speaking of which…" Jack groaned and slid back down again.

"I don't want to be an asshole, Jack, but we're on Day 6. What happened to the head start? The early adopter gets the worm or whatever it was you were saying to convince me to talk to the System last week?" He shifted onto his side, stared out at the street, and told me his story. Day One, after his return from the scenario, he made it through the chaos to home. His parents were, well, as they were. Doubting, skeptical, expecting the government to intervene at any moment.

Convinced the whole thing was some kind of hoax. Day Two, he'd killed some rats, enough to make it from Level 5—the level he'd been when he died in the scenario, because he'd chosen to reset and change his class—to Level 6 and then Level 7, just barely. And then Day Three was the fire elemental.

"I swear, I should have put points in Serendipity," he said gloomily.

"If I'd stayed a fire mage, I would have been what, Level 10? With fire resistance, I'm sure. I could have put that thing down in a heartbeat."

"I'm not sure a fireball against a fire elemental would have done much good."

"Okay, there's that. But the fire resistance would've helped a lot. I got 400XP for the elemental, nowhere close to enough to level up again, and I was…" He swallowed.

"Pretty bad off again. Pre-System, dead meat. Definitely scarred for life." Even if the physical reminders disappeared, the scars might remain. I bet therapists specializing in PTSD treatments made big bucks on post-system-integration planets.

"You should drop a few points into Resilience when you get a chance. I think it makes it easier to forget the shit you don't want to think about." Was my Resilience the reason I wasn't obsessing about telling Pen about her brother's death and how I'd disposed of his body? Maybe. At least I was only thinking about it every twenty minutes instead of every twenty seconds. Of course, I did also have plenty of other things to obsess over, like cascades and the rest of the Barrow brothers and Jules and…

yeah, Resilience was great stuff. I stuffed all those thoughts back into the box where they belonged and focused on Jack. His chuckle was dry, but at least he managed the laugh.

"If my mom has her way, I'll never leave the house again." I hesitated. Zelda dropped her head on my foot with a resigned sigh. Boring.

"There'll be more monsters soon enough," I told her. I wasn't sure what to say to Jack. I had opinions, obviously, but I'd added 'notice if you're being a bully' to my mental health wellness checklist not three hours ago. Jack had to make his own choices. My opinions were right, of course, but being convinced you're right—inflated self-confidence, they call it—is at the top of the list of mania symptoms. I didn't feel manic, but I wasn't necessarily the best judge.

"What do you want to do?" I finally said.

"Come with you to the enclave," Jack said, pushing himself to his feet.

"I'll go pack." He disappeared into the house, and I sat there, sorta stunned. Well, okay, then. I guess while I'd been thinking about how to manipulate him into doing what I wanted him to do, he'd been deciding to do it. I did think it was the right decision, though. Apart from the teeny-tiny issue of his parents having almost no chance of surviving without him. That was kind of a problem. Of course, it was one with an obvious solution. I could take the whole damn family into a rift or two and power-level them.

Then Jack could walk away knowing he'd done his best despite their lousy attitudes. Alas, I hated that solution. Reason number one to hate it: Jack's mom. Unlike, say, Rebecca Mercer, Missy was obviously only going to enter the System if she was dragged into it kicking and screaming. She was still waiting for the government to show up. Reason number two to hate it: Jack's dad. Whether it was a regular dynamic or just the stress coming out, he and Jack were butting heads like mountain goats.

The nostalgia was fun for about thirty seconds, but I was done with it already. Reason number three to hate it, and this was the big one: Bryce. All I knew about his background right now was that his family was rich enough to own a vacation home with a safe room. That was enough. I didn't want him to tell them anything about me. As in, nothing, nada, zip, zero. I wasn't a conspiracy theorist. I didn't believe in the Illuminati or the deep state.

But anything Bryce learned about rifts, my means of high-speed travel, and that Brush with Greatness achievement, could find its way to people I didn't want as enemies. Or as friends. While I was waiting, contemplating the survival odds for people who'd barely entered the System, Bear returned with something made of blue fabric, held in her teeth and trailing behind her. It didn't look heavy—she wasn't bringing back a dead body—but I got up and went down the steps and onto the path to see what she'd found.

She dropped it at my feet, her tail held high with pride. Loot. I picked it up. It was a coat, field-jacket style, lightweight with big pockets. Was it really loot? I used [Analyze] to check. Name: Wayfarer's Jacket Type: Clothing Grade: Rare Condition: Slightly dirty Attributes: Thermal Regulation: dynamically heats or cools the wearer to maintain functional comfort. Color-coded as applicable. Field Storage: pockets possess spatial extension properties.

Capacity exceeds external dimensions while maintaining wearer comfort. Wayfinding: wearer gains an intuitive sense of direction and route familiarity while traveling.

"Was this rat loot?" I asked Bear.

"Oh, you good girl!" She panted at me happily. Loot. I find loot. I shook the jacket, dusting off the dirt, then shrugged into it. I immediately felt more comfortable. North Carolina wasn't as cold as New Jersey had been, but it was in the low 60s Fahrenheit at best, and yes, I am a wimpy Floridian. I rubbed the fabric on the sleeve between my fingers, trying to decide what it felt like. Heavyweight cotton, maybe? Not fleece, not nylon, not wool. Not anything I recognized, actually.

But while I was trying to decide, the color began to shift. It wasn't like a mood ring, with the warmth of my fingers driving the change. Instead, the entire jacket was changing, the blue fading to a soft pink. Pink for keeping me mildly warmer? I wondered if it would become bright red in sub-zero temps.

"Good job, Bear," I said, looking up, but I was speaking to her tail. She was already heading down the street, back to the rat bodies. The door opened. I expected Jack, but it was his mom.

"Please come inside," she said.

"It's not safe out here. The rats—you haven't seen them, but—""I did see them," I interrupted her.

"The big swarm, that's what you're worrying about, right? The one with a couple hundred rats, some of them as big as my dogs?"

"Yes." She pulled her cardigan tighter, shivering. Maybe it was the chill in the air, but the distant look in her eyes suggested an unpleasant memory.

"We took care of them." I nodded toward the street where the slaughter had taken place.

"Kind of a mess over that way, and a few of the small ones escaped, but the big ones are all dead and most of the smaller ones, too." Her eyes came back to the present, and she stared at me.

"Dead?"

"Yep." I gave her an encouraging smile.

"You killed them? Just you?"

"Well, not just me." I gestured to Zelda and Riley.

"The dogs took out quite a few. The System gave Zelda an ability that lets her get enormous temporarily. She killed the leader right away." I didn't add, "And wouldn't you love to know what cool abilities the System would give you, too?" but I thought it. Zelda stretched, then wagged her tail before sitting down and looking at Missy expectantly. Missy's mouth firmed.

"I've always wanted a dog. Jack did, too. But David's allergic. We should have gotten one, anyway. I wonder if we could make it to the shelter? It might not be too late." It was probably too late. Or at least I hoped it was. How fast was Ellie moving? Had she been hiring people before or after moving the shelter dogs to the sanctuary planet?

"What would we feed it?" David said prosaically, stepping past Missy in the doorway and onto the porch.

"We're going to have to worry about what we're feeding ourselves soon."

"Rats," Missy said. I nearly laughed. I couldn't quite tell whether she'd said it as an old-fashioned expletive or a literal suggestion. She gave me a faint smile that suggested the answer was both, and I did laugh. Okay, we were going to have to rescue Jack's parents. Now I just had to figure out how.