The old man was chuffed with Pilot’s request. He practically bounded through the depressed streets of Ourense, chattering about ‘The Alcohol Situation.’
“I’ll tell you the bad news first. All the top-shelf stuff? Ruined. Unless it was bolted down and packed in with somethin’ soft, everything from your whiskeys to rums to vodkas is gone. Nada.”
Pilot speed-walked behind him. Annie was infected with her master’s energy, yapping at birds and jumping all over him when he stopped to remember directions.
“But,” he continued, “our gracious God had the foresight to bless us with cellars. Again, some casualties could not be avoided — earthquakes shake just as much under the ground as they do up top, far moreso actually, I guess it’s in the name — but those things are built tough, and the alcohol inside them—”
He looked at Pilot for the answer. It was a pretty vague question.
“Is packed with straw?”
“Kind of! Strapped down and kept low to the ground. Nice and safe for the most part. Now pop in here my friend, and don’t forget to doff your cap to Javier.”
The old man stopped outside a weatherboard tavern. It looked like it had needed some serious renovations even before the freshest round of destruction.
Pilot stepped inside, nodding to the barkeep who was presumably Javier. It was a small establishment. Seven roughshod wooden tables with four or five dusty patrons surrounding each. Most of them nursed mugs of red wine, though a lady at the bar was drinking a cup of something that looked like olive oil. Javier ran a tea towel across a cracked glass splashback that threw distorted reflections back to the room. When he found a particularly troublesome stain, he spat on the glass and rubbed harder.
“Grab us two seats by the bar, would you? I’ll pop over in a sec.”
They parted ways. Pilot wiped a splash of unknown liquid off a stool, then sat down. Annie came with him. Her nose twitched and her ears angled away from the noise. The old man was chatting to a table of Ourense’s other survivors.
“What’ll it be, young fella?” Javier asked. He floated along on tiptoes, his spotless black shoes squeaking on the damp floorboards.
“I’ll have to wait before I order, if that’s alright. No money. That old bloke told me to sit down over here, but I don’t think he’ll be long.” Pilot jabbed a finger at the old man. He was laughing it up big time and stealing sips of wine from multiple mugs.
“Old Ollie, eh? He’s a goodun. Always happy to show the new folk around town, and that dog of his helps calm down the jumpier ones. Were you a jumpy one?”
Pilot gave a short laugh, somewhere between a loud exhale and a chuckle. “Much like a fish out of water, I guess. Thought I was the only one left until I saw him.”
“Didn’t we all.”
Javier drifted back to top up the lady’s glass of olive oil. She blew a kiss his way then glanced at Pilot, catching his eye but not saying anything.
Pilot amused himself by scratching Annie’s ears for a while, at least until the old man came back. By the time he’d finished telling his stories and laughing along with the others, Annie was basically asleep. Her head rested on Pilot’s knee and her tail occasionally thumped.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, old chap. Javier? Two reds, please. I’ve got a thirst like a caterpillar running.”
Their two drinks came, plus two extras. Javier smiled and slid across a bowl of tiny peanuts. ‘Old Ollie’ grabbed a handful, tossing one to Annie who immediately snarfed it down.
“Alright, Pilot. I’ve shown you around Ourense, given you the rundown on where to shit and shower, now I’d like to hear a bit of your story. How does that sound?”
Pilot sipped at his mug of wine. It was a bit sour, but drinkable.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll leave out most of the miserable stuff though. I’m sure everyone’s had their fair share.”
Old Ollie nodded.
“Funnily enough, I was a pilot. I flew with Air Nostrum for most of my career and gave flying lessons on the side — about eight students, but it went up and down depending on the season. On the day the asteroid hit, I managed to get myself and about four hundred and fifty passengers into a plane. We took off no problem, then…”
He tapered off and his shoulders sagged. What happened next was awful, but it was arguably the lesser evil. At least it was quick.
“I see. You couldn’t fly high enough to avoid the firestorm?”
“Didn’t get that far.”
The old man finished his cup in a gulp and planted it on the bar with a sharp crack. “And after that?”
“Woke in a forest, got scared to death by the voice in my head, found some clothes, then got here.”
Javier chuckled from behind the bar. Apparently, he’d been listening in on their conversation whilst going about his duties. “Didn’t we all get a damn good fright from that voice! Lucia, do the thing you do!”
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The olive oil lady set down her glass and, in a voice perfectly matching that of the System, said: “Assimilation of your Gem is complete.”
Javier cackled, topping up her glass and slopping some over the edge. Pilot couldn’t help smiling. Some of the more inebriated patrons were looking around in confusion. Their wide, bloodshot eyes blinked, jaws wide like they were catching flies. Lucia swivelled and waved to them, assuring them they weren’t going crazy.
In here, it’s like nothing is even wrong. Like everyone just decided to gather here after work on a Friday night. Not a care in the world.
The only difference was that no one had families to rush home to just in time for dinner.
“I’ve got a question,” Pilot started. “How come Ourense and everything around us isn’t completely flattened? The scientists said that the asteroid would land near Compostela, which really isn’t far at all. I know that Ourense isn’t in its best condition, but it shouldn’t even exist anymore, right? Firestorms, massive earthquakes, proximity to the blast, all that?”
Old Ollie gave a sly grin and rubbed his hands together like a devilish banker. Javier noticed this and turned away, sighing and flapping his tea towel in Ollie’s direction. The old man jumped straight into gear.
“Great question, lad. Phenomenal question. First, let me ask you this: If you were to kill me right now, without actually laying your hands on me, how would you do it?”
Pilot sat dumbfounded for a moment. “Kill you? How does that relate to the asteroid?”
“Just humour me. How would you do it?”
“I don’t know. A gun, perhaps?” He looked around for inspiration, finding none. “A baseball bat, maybe? Golf club? Sorry, this is getting dark. It’s not something I think about often, I can assure you.”
His interlocutor tapped both hands on his knees and leaned forward, a gleam in his eye. “And there we go! Would you be surprised to learn that across the entire city of Ourense, you will not find a single gun, baseball bat, or golf club? You also won’t find knives, needles, rolling pins, screwdrivers, or anything else that could primarily be used as a deadly weapon.”
Pilot looked up at Javier, who just shook his head and went back to polishing the dust off a bottle of wine. The man always stayed active when he was behind the bar. Always wiping or pouring or polishing.
“I’m not sure I’m following. How does that relate to Ourense and the asteroid?”
Now Old Ollie was so close to the edge of his seat that with a few more centimetres he would slip right off.
“It relates, because it proves that whatever the asteroid did, it was selective in doing it. We all got burned, but only the ‘strong’ were revived. The firestorm must’ve rolled all the way around the world, or else there would be people with radios flying in on helicopters to save us, yet most of the forest around us is untouched by flames. Explain that!”
Pilot thought for a moment.
“Could we have just been…gone for a really long time?” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. The saplings that grew behind the plain wreckage were relatively young. And to regrow the rest of the forest would’ve taken decades, possibly centuries.
Old Ollie just shook his head and regained his posture, throwing back his second wine and burrowing a dirty palm into the peanut bowl. “No. And I’ll admit, I’m still waiting for an actual scientist to confirm my suspicions, but you can colour me pink if I’ve got it wrong. There ain’t no one been in my gun safe but me, yet both the .22 and the .303 are gone, same with the ammo. Would’ve been nice to get some deer meat on the table, but alas.”
He seemed to grumble about this realisation, shuffling in his seat and staring into the sediment of his cup like he was reading tea leaves.
Pilot turned to ask Javier whether the asteroid had stolen all the corkscrews, and if so how was he opening the wine bottles, when a woman’s scream broke through from out in the street. The merry drinkers paused, some with cups held to their lips, all of them listening. The scream multiplied into a chorus of shouts, then a large clod of earth and rock shot through the open door and collided with a man’s head. He was killed instantly, slumping to the floor with wine dripping down his body, mixing with blood.
The room erupted. Javier was pushed into the corner as people piled behind the safety of the bar. Lucia ducked down and hid behind her stool. Old Ollie grabbed Annie by her scruff and dragged her to the ground with him.
Pilot crouched and skulked over to a grubby window, looking out into the night.
One end of the street was dark. The other was alight with flames and the flickering silhouettes of a group of men. They held chains, somehow alight with fire. With each swing, they spread flames to any building they touched.
Ourense was burning. A man ran down the street towards the invaders. He screamed with glee, ripping hunks of stone from the road and flinging them through windows and doors. The invaders paused to wave at him.
“We have to run,” Pilot decided. “There’s a group of criminals. They’re coming up the street and burning everything. We have to go now.”
The tangle of bodies behind the bar rustled. No one wanted to make the first move.
“NOW, I’m telling you. Go now!”
Feeling the tension, Annie started to bark and yap. It got people moving, flooding out the thin door into the street. Javier and Old Ollie came out last, pushing Pilot ahead of them.
“Head north!” Ollie demanded, as if Pilot would’ve instead run towards the danger. “Take the first left at the intersection, that’ll take you to the nursery. You’ll have to—”
An arrow flew through the night, a silent wraith sent by one of the invaders. Pilot watched the arrowhead sprout from the old man’s throat, a spray of blood spitting from the wound. Javier yelled and caught his falling body, crashing to the cobblestones with a grunt.
The barkeep’s eyes looked up at Pilot, searching for an explanation. Annie yelped and growled at Javier. Pilot dragged her away, eventually picking her up and holding her to his chest.
He’s gone. Just like that.
“Get up, Javier! We have to go. He’s dead, Javier, he’s dead! GET UP!”
The barkeep shook his head. A blue light glowed through his thin shirt. His Gem was beating at least three times every second.
“I…I’ll carry him,” Javier said. “He’ll be okay, he’ll be fine.”
Pilot was already holding the dog. Javier wouldn’t get up, despite his plan to carry Old Ollie’s lifeless body. Pilot couldn’t drag him. An invader with a flaming chain had noticed them and now he approached swiftly through the darkness, his weapon sketching a circle of fire.
Either Old Ollie’s theory was wrong, or the asteroid didn’t blacklist chains and arrows as deadly weapons. The arrowheads could be made, he guessed. Flint and stone and whatever they used in medieval times.
He shifted Annie onto his shoulder like he’d seen soldiers do with their German Shepherds. The dog struggled. She wanted to go to her master’s side, but Pilot wouldn’t let her.
An arrow zipped by. It was time to go. Pilot sprinted up the street, leaving Javier behind.
I never paid for my drinks.
At the intersection only a couple hundred meters away, Pilot chanced a look over his shoulder. He saw the flames of an invader’s chain illuminate Javier’s face for a single, slow moment before it slashed down.
I never paid for my fucking drinks.