“Didn’t look like much of a fort to me, just a normal building,” I point out.
“Sure, that’s because no one has upgraded it yet. Get some walls built or buy the upgrades and it’ll start looking like a real fort,” Ali replies.
“Wait, we can build walls? Won’t the System ignore them?” After all, it’s ignored most of our other buildings.
“Nope. You guys are all System-claimed now, so what you do from now on matters to the System,” says Ali.
No use getting angry over this, but I can’t help but feel it. The System this, the System that. It makes decisions and discards everything that we ever did before it came, remaking us and our world without care. I find myself grinding my teeth and force myself to breathe out as I push the anger aside. In control once more, I ask lightly, keeping my voice calm. Or at least I think it’s calm, “That mean those non-fighter classes we found, they could fix up the cars?”
Ali nods, “Sure, if they use System registered materials, no reason it wouldn’t work. You’d either have to salvage or work the materials from start or buy from the Shop, and if they wanted to Mana engines and batteries, they’d have to get their skills up.”
Good news. I lean into the next turn, falling silent for now as I scan for more trouble. Even driving at speed, I see more than I used to - my increased perceptions able to take notice of more. I spot our local, non-transformed wildlife – squirrels, ground squirrels, a fox, occasional birds. I spot a few transformed and new animals, but none that are a danger to me so I don’t stop. I came out to check for survivors after all, not kill monsters.
Mount Lorne is a bust, the various small residences and communities that cluster around the community centre empty. They leave another mystery though – unlike many of the houses in Riverdale, many show signs of an organised exit. Doors closed, windows shut, no damaged or broken buildings to be seen and no blood. It is almost as if they evacuated somewhere else, those that weren’t attacked immediately at least. Did they make it into Whitehorse already? A puzzle for sure, but not one that I can solve right now.
I look up the time and note it’s 7pm already, glad that my helmet and Sabre came with a clock. The longer spring hours in the North throw me for a curve, daylight lingering till 10pm these days. If you’d asked me, I wouldn’t have guessed it no more than 4 at most. A dangerous little trick the North likes to play, making inexperienced backpackers push themselves till late at night, unaware of how long they have exerted themselves.
It’s another twenty minutes to Carcross at speed, but I take it a little slower and get there in half-an-hour. As I begin to pass the world’s smallest desert on my left, Ali pops back into life, finishing up the game of cards he has been playing to talk to me. “Humans. Lots of humans. At least a few hundred.”
I grin at his words, relaxing. Thank the gods, not every small community was being wiped off the map. I slow down anyway since I figure whoever is there is going to be jumpy and I’m glad I do because I’m so not ready for what I see.
Just before I get to town proper, I run into a barrier made up of cars, trucks and stacked furniture that reaches all across the road and down to my right as far as I can see, probably all the way to the river. The town itself is built adjacent to the river, spreading out from near the bridge and along the West side of the highway. From what I can see, where they have run out of cars and furniture, they have dug a trench on one side and just piled the extra earth on the other, shoring the entire thing up with occasional felled trees. Quite a feat if they have it all the way down to the river since it’s at least a good kilometer away.
I slow down and creep up to the barrier, waiting to be challenged. I don’t have to wait long.
“Who’s there?” A voice shouts in the slightly slurred accent of one of the First Nations. Tagish probably considering we’re in Carcross.
“John Lee. I’m here from Whitehorse,” I shout back, touching my helmet to make it disappear. I hear a gasp behind the barrier even from this distance. I guess the disappearing helmet trick is still kinda new.
“You human?” the voice continues to question.
“Yes!” I grimace, shaking my head at the question. I can hear the arguments behind as someone else points out that’s a stupid question. A hurried discussion happens even as they send one of their own to get someone in charge.
“Who’s the Greatest Hockey Player ever?” This time, at least, the question makes sense.
“Gretzky of course.” I snort, shaking my head. “Look, I don’t mean any harm, I just came to see what I could do to help.”
“‘Right, sorry about that. Just come up slow now. We got guns,” my unseen conversation partner says. I comply readily enough, riding my bike closer and then am forced to wait till they pull the makeshift gate aside to ride in.
Inside the barrier, Carcross has not changed much. A single lonesome gas station connected to the motel and gift shop is a short distance away on the left while to the right, the Tagish First Nation’s office building, a church and a variety of other residences spread out to the river that the entire community nestles against. Surprisingly, everything looks pretty normal though there are guards standing around me and further, all of them looking around with that wary expression I’ve come to recognise of people under siege. The guards on closer inspection are low-leveled, all in the single digits and have a new appellation next to each of them – Warrior, Riflemen, Guard and more.
“Ali, what’s with the new information?”
“New information that I can display. Not super useful all the time, and I’m translating it best as I can from what the System gives me, but there you go,” Ali replies, gesturing to the Status bars.
“Evening. Sorry about the reception, but we’ve had to be careful,” an older brunette woman with a pixie haircut walks up to me and interrupts any further conversation with Ali. She’s dressed in a pair of jeans and plaid shirt and could be generously called hefty, though she moves her weight with grace and carries the giant hammer over her shoulder with ease. The Status bar over her head reads Melissa O’Keefe, Level 38 Protector. “I’m Melissa.”
“John,” I take the proffered hand and watch as a crowd begins to gather, coming from the gas station and the office building, consisting mostly of children and teenagers. “This place is… impressive.”
“Thanks. If you don’t mind, there are a few people who’d like to talk to you,” Melissa says and waves me to the Tagish First Nation’s offices. I park Sabre there once I can and after a moment’s hesitation grab the rifle from its holster on the bike. Looks like everyone is armed in this town.
The meeting hall is buzzing, people moving with purpose. Random snatches of conversation that I overhear give a sense of organisation, of people working towards a common goal, something that was missing in Whitehorse. Surprisingly, I notice that everyone here has a few levels, a vast change from the majority in Whitehorse. I don’t get to linger though as I’m directed towards a boardroom where three others await – a gaunt, tall teenage Wizard, a matronly First Nation Shaman elder and a local member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) still in his uniform.
The last makes me pause, a part of me wondering about the lack of RCMP members in Whitehorse. I’d have thought they’d be in the front-lines of this. I frown, and then push the thought aside. Something to look into when I’m back if I really was that curious. In the meantime, introductions seem to have been made for me, but I’ve missed it. Ah well, not as if I need to remember their names, what with Ali providing their Status bars. Interestingly enough, the kid is the highest level at 36, the constable is a level 34 Guardian and the elder only a level 8 Shaman.