Chương 88: 86: Fresh Milk

"So, did you folks make any decisions while I was out here?" I asked, and then immediately second-guessed myself. Was that rude? Was I implying that their poor hospitality had driven me to risk my life on their porch?

"I think we should stay here," Missy muttered at first, then spoke more loudly.

"We have neighbors, friends. And yes, emergency services are overwhelmed, but at least they exist. This isn't the Rapture. There are plenty of first responders hard at work." David sighed.

"Megan and Bryce are convinced it'll be safer at his parents' place. Solar power, well water, emergency supplies, a stocked pantry, the safe room."

"Guns." Missy snorted.

"Guns." David spread his hands.

"It's a valid point. And more to the point, our daughter is committed to the idea and I'm not letting her go alone." His voice rose as he spoke, too, and his expression as he looked at his wife was pretty close to a glare.

"Jack nearly died, but you're okay with letting him go alone?" Okay, so apparently the argument wasn't quite over. From behind me on the path, Bear nudged my leg. When I turned to look, she dropped a plastic lunchbox at my feet. She curled her lip at the arguing, then loped off again. I scooped up the lunchbox and took a look. Name: Kid's Meal Box Type: Regenerative Consumable Grade: Uncommon Condition: Slight damage from animal teeth Attributes: Generates one child-friendly meal every ten hours.

May store up to ten meals. Contents are not customizable. Meal not guaranteed nutritionally sufficient, but contains a minimum of 400 calories. Includes complimentary toy. Current contents: 3/10 I wasn't sure I wanted to look, but I flipped open the lid. Zelda and Riley's noses both snapped in my direction like I was a homing beacon. Zelda sat up straighter, and Riley stood, walking down the porch stairs and coming to sit before me with quiet dignity. Zelda's tail was quivering with hope.

Not wagging, just twitching. Years ago, during a somewhat challenging period in my life, I'd stopped for fast food on my way home fairly often. Not regularly, but often enough that we all recognized the smell of chicken strips. Not nutritionally sufficient, indeed. The lunchbox also contained one of those plastic bags of sliced apples, a small milk carton, and a tiny plastic rat. I guess that was the "toy."

"What is that?" David asked. I jerked my chin over my shoulder toward the road.

"Bear's bringing me the loot from the rats we killed. This is a Kid's Meal Box. Today's kid's meal is apparently chicken strips, apple, and milk."

"The dog brought you—the rats—what?" David looked as if he wasn't sure whether to argue or laugh. I held up the milk carton.

"Do you need any milk? For coffee or whatever?"

"God, yes." Missy hopped down the porch steps and took it from me.

"We ran out two days ago. Can I get you a coffee?"

"I'm good, thanks, but go ahead."

"David?" She hesitated on the porch steps. His smile was wry.

"I'd love some." She touched his arm in passing, brief but expressive. He watched her go inside before sitting on the porch chair. I moved to the steps and sat down, dogs before me. I was hungry enough that I wouldn't have minded eating some of the chicken myself, but it felt weird to eat in front of Jack's dad. Instead, I fed bites to Zelda and Riley, saving the third strip for Bear.

"Sorry you had to witness that. We don't usually—" He stopped.

"Well. It's been a long week." He was behind me so I couldn't see his expression, but I could hear the unhappiness in his voice. Cue internal debate. Should I respond to the words, something light and easy, or to the tone?

"Brutal," I corrected him, turning and putting my back to the porch post so that we were looking at one another.

"It's been a brutal week."

"That, too." He opened his mouth, closed it, looked away, looked back. His voice was husky when he said, "We've been lucky so far, especially compared to folks a few streets over. But Jack—we didn't think he'd make it. Megan and Bryce didn't get here until a couple days ago and Jack was still… healing."

"The recovery is impressive, isn't it? A perk of being in the system, apparently."

"Is that what it was? We thought it might just be Jack, something to do with his magic." David chuckled and shook his head.

"Can't believe I'm saying that. Magic. But we saw what he could do. Appearing, disappearing." He grinned, and it was real.

"Made me regret giving up D&D twenty-some years ago. I might have made a better choice than Guard if I'd been more on top of things. I just grabbed the first class I saw, because the rats… Yeah." The grin disappeared, and he sighed.

"At Level 5, your class will evolve, and you'll get other choices. The choices depend on what you've been doing, but the System also seems to take into account what you want, at least a little. And if you don't like your choices you can hold off until you get something better." A faint smile returned.

"Let me guess, D&D pro?" This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. I laughed.

"Is there such a thing? And no, absolutely not. But I learned a lot from Jack in the challenge scenario."

"It sounded so unlikely. Impossible. Stopping time." He snorted and then said, sounding rueful, "I should apologize to him."

"Probably, yeah. It wouldn't hurt, anyway." He shook his head, sighing.

"Do you have kids?"

"Just dogs."

"Hardest job in the world, even before this. You think when they're newborns that it can't possibly get tougher. Ha." I couldn't honestly commiserate, so I just made a sympathetic-sounding noise. Bear was on her way back, this time with something white in her mouth, so I let her arrival become a welcome distraction. She dropped the white thing on the ground and sniffed at the lunchbox. Riley and Zelda both did their best to look innocent, but they weren't very successful.

"I saved you some, love," I told her as I opened the lunchbox to get her piece of chicken. And then I blinked. The milk was back, along with a second bag of apple slices and another three pieces of chicken, and a second plastic rat. Okay, did kids actually play with plastic rats, or was that just the System being an asshole? I tabbed [Analyze] and saw that the contents of the lunchbox now read 1/10. So we'd had two meals, and if I closed the box, a third would appear. Nice.

Not that I wanted to rely on nutritionally insufficient food, but still, I was hungry. I handed Bear an entire chicken strip, and before Zelda could do more than begin to draw herself up in horror, I handed her one, too. I gave Riley the third, and then I said to David, "I hope you don't mind, but I'm actually kinda hungry. I'm gonna eat one of these chicken strips. Would you like one?"

"Oh, we should—I could—oh, God, we're lousy hosts. I'm sorry, I can't offer you much. Last night was bean enchiladas. There might be some leftovers." I waved off the offer.

"I'm good, look." I tilted the lunchbox up.

"Two bags of apples, more milk. And I've got, uh, supplies." I had been on the verge of saying "a store in my backyard" when I back-pedaled. I really needed to make some rules for myself about what information I should share with people I barely knew. Many people with labels—neurodivergent, addict, mentally ill—keep them quiet. Probably just as many emblazon them on every t-shirt. I fell somewhere in the middle. I freely shared my diagnosis; I generally kept quiet about the criminal record.

Everything related to the System felt like it came closer to the criminal record side of things. And for sorta the same reason: sharing made me vulnerable. And not in the touchy-feely, emotional integrity sorta way. When you already have a criminal record, calling the police is always a last resort. People who know that can use the information against you. Most people, of course, don't. Most people aren't evil. But most isn't all. (Employers at crap jobs who repeatedly short you on your hours? Evil, yes.) I didn't think telling David that I had access to a grocery store with shelves that magically restocked meant he was going to use it against me. But I didn't know that for a fact. He was Jack's dad. But his daughter had lousy taste in men. On the other hand, probably the only reason I thought his daughter had lousy taste was because once upon a time, I'd shared her taste. I'd learned my lesson, but I shouldn't hold it against her that she hadn't.

"Did you drive here?" David asked. I blinked.

"Well, you must have." He gave a half laugh.

"Sorry, stupid question. Jack does this teleport thing which is amazing, but it's not like you could do that from Florida. Where did you leave your car?" Oh, fuck. I was such a lousy liar. I nodded toward Bear, who, having gulped down her chicken, was off again, already loping down the street.

"Ah, back that way. There were lot of, um, rats, so we, uh…" I spotted the white thing Bear had dropped and bent over to pick it up. It looked like your basic car first-aid kit. The kind with two packets of antibiotic cream and a bare handful of band-aids. A quick [Analyze] later, and I said, "Oh, nice." Item: First Aid Kit Type: Consumable Grade: Uncommon Condition: Perfect Attributes: Enhanced medical supplies. Accelerates natural healing for minor to moderate injuries. Effective healing rate: 3x baseline.

For a second, I hesitated. Would I need this someday? But I had healing potions and easy access to more.

"Here." I tossed it to David.

"A first aid kit?"

"Magical," I told him.

"Grants three times your natural healing rate. In the scenario, Jack and I calculated that you get about one hit point back an hour, so this would give you three. Assuming that calculation is still correct out here."

"Hit points." David shook his head, but his hand closed around the kit.

"What do you think about this idea that they're rescuing us?" he asked abruptly.

"The System, I mean." My look must have been as skeptical as I felt, because he didn't wait for my answer, just laughed weakly, and said, "Yeah, I thought so."

"I don't think the System was lying about our world being doomed," I said, putting a hand on Riley's neck.

"I think we killed our planet. It was gonna be a long, slow, painful death. But the System's just giving most of us a quick death instead. Sorry." That was probably a little too hard to hear for a man with kids.

"I want my kids to live," he said softly.

"Good long lives. I want them to be happy. Healthy. Successful. I don't know what that looks like anymore."

"Oh, good news," I said.

"Jack's gonna do great."

"He nearly died. He was burned, he was…" David was taking deep, heaving breaths. I recognized them. Panic attack symptom, PTSD, whatever. Jack wasn't the only one with scars from his battle with the fire elemental.

"Hey, want to go kill some monsters?" I said brightly, trying to interrupt the spiral before it could begin.

"Wh—what?" He gasped, and the spiral stopped. He stared at me.

"What?" I stood, dusting my hands off.

"We should go find some monsters to kill. Level you up some. You'll feel better when you know that you're tougher than anything else out there." He stared at me some more. I smiled at him.

"I find it really effective myself." The door opened, and Missy stepped out, carrying a tray with three mugs on it. Steam was rising from them.

"I brought you a coffee, too," she said, sounding apologetic.

"I know you said you didn't want any, but it just felt wrong not to give you any. After you've come all this way." Jack appeared behind her, wearing a winter jacket and a backpack. The camping kind, not the back-to-school kind.

"Where's your car?" he asked.

"I'll go unload my stuff, if that's okay." Missy drew in a sharp breath, the tray wobbling in her hands.

"I was just suggesting to your dad that we go hunt some monsters," I said amiably, ignoring the car question. I guess it made sense that they assumed I'd driven here. They had no way of knowing that I had alternative transportation. But was anyone really making it 600-ish miles on monster-ridden roads?

On my brief foray into televised rubber-necking, I'd seen car crashes, plane crashes, buildings falling over, supervillain wannabes, and enough disasters to make me think most highways were pretty close to impassable. But I guess when someone shows up at your door, you don't jump straight to thinking they've got magical portals at their disposal, even during the apocalypse.

"Do you have time for that?" Jack's voice was flat, maybe even polite. Because Jack was pissed off, I realized. Doing his best to hide it, but deeply, deeply angry.

"You run into Bryce on your way out?" I asked. He snorted, and for a moment the anger flared in his eyes, but then he said, "Why ever would you think that?" with a hint of self-mockery in his tone. I smiled, dipped my chin in acknowledgement, and let it go.

"We've got plenty of time, no rush. And I'm thinking that we'd all feel better if we went and killed some monsters together." Missy's tray jerked again, cups rattling, but she didn't say anything, just looked at David.

"You know you want to." I tucked the lunchbox into one of the spacious pockets on my Wayfarer's Jacket and added, still using my brightest voice, "What is it they say? The family that slays together stays together, right?"

"Who says that?" Missy demanded.

"Um, Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Maybe? I don't know." I laughed and shook my head, then sobered.

"Not the point. You guys need more levels. This is the world we're living in now and you need to take it seriously. And if you couldn't bring yourself to listen to Jack, you need to listen to me." Missy looked at David. He looked at me, face grave, all signs of a panic attack gone. And then he nodded slowly.

"Yeah. You're right." Missy closed her eyes. She pressed her lips together, looked down, took a deep breath. Then said, "Can we at least have our coffee first? It'd be a pity to waste the fresh milk."