“You’re scared of a girl?” Ali chortles at the same time Lana speaks. “You ran from relationship issues into the apocalypse?”
“No, I just don’t want to deal with the she-bitch,” I protest, waving them to be silent. Lana looks puzzled for a moment before gesturing for Richard to keep moving. That annoying redhead is trying to hide a grin, something that Ali doesn’t even bother with as he’s rolling in the air laughing his ass off.
“Halt! Who goes there,” the Giant calls out as we near.
“A bad role-player,” I say beneath my breath, letting Richard take the lead in the discussion as I attempt to fade into the background. Introductions are quickly made with Richard relaying a short version of their trip.
While Richard does the speaking, I eyeball the group and their weaponry. The swords, bows and maces are well used and while the group might seem friendly, they’re all keeping hands near their weapons. They seem to have stuck to the fantasy motif, which doesn’t surprise me at all – her role-playing group were all about D&D.
“How’d you get the bike working?” his Status bar says Tim and it takes me a moment to place him. Right! He was a mechanic before all this shit happened. Now he’s a half-dragon, half-man mixture seven feet tall carrying a battleaxe clad in chainmail. I guess some interests don’t go away.
“Well?” He pushes and I realise everyone is waiting for me to answer, even the Pearsons and Mikito.
“I bought it from the Shop.,” I say, leaning against the vehicle and oh so casually having my hand near the stock of my rifle. Not that I expect to have to shoot anybody but Tim’s just a little too happy to see a working bike.
“There’s a Shop out there?” Luthien the she-bitch butts in. I have to admit, the Elf look works for her - tall, thin and blonde is what she was before, but the additional pointy ears and tight leather pants and armor certainly accentuates everything. Looking good was never her problem though, lying, cheating, manipulating, that was another matter.
“No. I got access due to some… special circumstances,” I pause, trying to figure out the best way to get around this. “It was in Haines Junction…”
“You were there? Did you see a man named Perry?” The other elf speaks up, pushing forwards in the group surrounding me now.
“No. The town, it’s gone,” I look down, not really wanting to be the one to pass on this news. “Ogres took it over, killed them all. The Ogres were killed by a Salamander and when I looted them, I got a chance to use the Shop. That’s where I got the bike and my weapons,” that should do it. Just enough truth without going into detail about my part of it.
I watch the Elf, Jeff, crumple at the news and turn away. The others give him some space but Luthien and the last mage, Kevin just stare at me. In the end, it’s Kevin who speaks, “Is that you John?”
“Yes,” I answer him and as he opens his mouth to speak, I wave him away. “Glad to see you all alive,” I mouth, my brain turning on automatic as the roiling pit of anger and disgust thrums through me. I shake my head and swing my feet over the bike and get ready to leave.
“John…” Luthien says.
I ignore her, kicking the bike into gear and pulling away from the group, forcing one of the teenagers to jump aside or get run over. Yeah, I'm running away. I still can’t be in the same place with her, not right now. I grit my teeth, pushing aside the emotions again as I head down Two Mile Hill into downtown Whitehorse. I guess my peaceful return to normalcy just got shot out the window.
“So, John… figure I should let you know this now,” Ali speaks to me. Wait, into me! “Yeah, we’ve got a mental connection so you can stop talking into the air like a crazy person.”
How do I do this…?
“If that constipated look on your face is anything to go by, you’re trying it right? You got to think at me first, then I’ll hear it. It’s not mind reading,” Ali says.
“Like this asshole?”
“Perfect! Of course, no one can hear me so I won’t do the ‘duh I’m stupid stare’ like you,” Ali adds.
“Asshole,” I mutter into my helmet.
Once I’m down the hill, I take 4th Street, passing the burnt-out shell of the McDonald’s and more abandoned commercial buildings on both sides of me. In a minute, I have to slowdown to a crawl as the number of people increases significantly and none of them are obeying traffic laws anymore. Not too surprising, since the number of working vehicles can be counted on one finger. Though, it looks like bicycles have made a giant comeback, with riders swerving in and around pedestrians with little care. I guess when your health regenerates within minutes, even bruises and broken bones become less important. The humans all move jerkily, flickers of anger or fear crossing faces when a movement is too fast or something catches them unaware. Shoulders are hunched, others have eyes wide and staring and these are the good ones - the ones willing to come out from hiding.
It takes me a moment to realise what is nagging me about everyone – there’s not a single pair of spectacles to be seen. Like my own on-going ailments, it looks like the increased regeneration rate from the System removes minor issues like that. More interestingly, I spot two pairs of high-level individuals with rifles patrolling the streets, each a pair black-skinned, silver-haired Elves in a tunic uniform ensemble of more black and silver. Shacking up with Luthien, I know immediately these guys aren’t your typical Elves - they’re Dark Elves, the evil version of the Elves. At least in bad fantasy lore. Surprisingly, their presence doesn’t seem to generate much interest from the humans around, most who seem to be scurrying back and forth on their own errands.
At École Elementary School, it’s my turn to be shocked as I spot a working truck amongst on the street, engine running as people hurry around it and into the sea of tents on the school grounds. The sound of the diesel engine cranking over is loud as a group of First Nation hunters unload a Moose from the back. Like most of our native flora, this one seems to have tripled in size at least from the sheer quantity of meat that they are pulling off and handing down into the school.
I pull my bike over near them and one of the First Nations elder who is directing the unloading looks to me with caution, a hand unconsciously tightening on the rifle butt. He’s old school with a permanent squint from being outdoors all the time and lines across his tanned face. Dressed in a rawhide vest, plaid shirt and jeans, he could be out for a Sunday afternoon stroll in Whitehorse if not for the blood that covers his clothing. I’m sure I’ve seen him around town before at one of the many public functions but for the life of me, where and when eludes me. I raise my hand in greeting and I can see him look towards my bike in consideration.
“You hunt that yourself?” I let the surprise and admiration creep into my voice. Even a glance at their Status Bars shows me their average level is in the single digits.
“Yup. Took half our bullets too but we still have some,” The warning is clear, though I just chuckle and raise both my hands clear of my own rifle.
“Don’t want no trouble. Just a little information as I just got in. People gathering in the school?” I gesture to École and get a nod in confirmation.
“So, what’s that?” I point towards the biggest change in the city, the towering 8 storey, shining metal building that dominates the town and is probably smack centre in Main St. Whitehorse was a picturesque town, one made of short rectangular buildings, wide roads and occasional gestures to its pioneer past. There was even an ordinance that kept buildings beneath 30 feet, so the Blade Runner escapee of a building was not normal.
A spit is my initial answer before the elder continues, “Building appeared 3 days after the monsters. Some asshole who says he owns the town now lives there.”
“That’s where the Shop is boy-o. Someone purchased the rights to town, give me a second and I’ll see what I can dig up,” Ali says, going back to staring into space.