Despite the broadcast's ill omen, the night passed without issue. Annie, Chad, Squawkers, and even Jerry switched off, staying awake to keep watch for any trouble. However, nothing of note happened. Chad only heard a few distant howls and squeals during his watch. Excluding the more persistent sounds of yowls and meows from cats both inside and outside the house, of course.

I guess Gram Gram started keeping outside cats, too. She probably ran out of room in here. Hopefully they don't get eaten.

Soon enough, the early morning sunlight peeked over the horizon, signaling the start of another day. A particularly busy one for Chad, too. After waking the others, he hopped on Ol' Bessie to head into town.

"I'll be back in a bit." He slung a backpack over his smaller shoulder and gave Annie one last look. "Remember..."

"If anything happens, we'll call you." Annie chuckled. She'd once again lent him her phone. "Honestly, Chad, you worry too much."

"Says the biggest worrywart here…" Jerry muttered from behind.

"Hey, I had reason to worry!" Annie retorted. "Yall were in some real danger there!"

"...You're right." Jerry sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't complain. I just… you can be a little overbearing, sister."

"I'll stop being overbearing as soon as you stop being such a wimp." She nudged him hard in the ribs. "Like that'll ever happen."

Chad gave Squawkers one last chin scratch. "You sure you're ok with this?"

"Yup!" The bird bobbed his head. "Who else is gonna keep a lookout? You people? You wouldn't see a threat till it was right under your noses."

Chad chuckled. "Alright. Thanks, buddy. I'll see if I can find any more berries for you at the store."

"I'll hold you to that." With a flap of grey feathers, Squawkers took off into the sky. His red tail feathers soon receded into a bare pinprick circling high above as he scouted for threats.

"I strongly doubt that the stores will still be open for business," Jerry called as the bike rumbled to life. "I wouldn't expect anyone in their right mind to be working amid all this, much less a minimum wage job..."

"Eh. You never know." Annie waved a final goodbye. "Stay safe out there, Chad. Don't forget to pick up more food if you can."

"Got it."

With that, he popped Ol' Bessie's bent kickstand up and headed out.

***

As Chad made the short drive into town -- all the while keeping a keen eye out for deer -- he took in the familiar sights with more than a little nostalgia.

Dollar store's still there... Same with the old BBQ joint. Though it looks like that mechanic went out of business at some point. Wonder if Lydia's old cafe is still open?

He was tempted to check, but stopped himself. There were more important things to handle at the moment. The first being to fill up his tank.

Unfortunately, that in itself proved to be a bit of an ordeal since everyone else had gotten the same idea. A lot of the gas stations bore signs declaring themselves to be empty. The ones that weren't had people lining up already.

Damn. Guess I'm late to the party. He glanced at the sun, now fully visible above the horizon. How early did these people wake up?

Chad got into line before they got any longer and peered ahead. He spotted a few level three Gas Station Attendants that filled people's cars for them, rather than letting them do it themselves. They seemed to wait a solid ten minutes or so between filling each car, which explained the lines.

As he waited, the line behind him grew and grew until it overflowed into the streets themselves. When he eventually made it to the front, he nodded to the attendant -- a rather bored-looking man in his twenties. The guy yawned, scratching at some wispy stubble on his chin.

"Mornin'."

"Morning..." The attendant yawned again. "Just the bike?"

"Yep." Chad confirmed. "How exactly does this work? Do I pay you?"

"Sure, if you got cash." He shrugged, leaning against the fuel pump. "Otherwise, I'll take a coffee."

Chad chuckled. "Fresh out, sorry. Don't you have some inside?"

The attendant shook his head. "The machine broke last week."

"Really? Shit, man." Chad shot him a sympathetic look. "That sucks."

"You're tellin' me. We've already run through all the iced coffee stuff too. Some of em' are nasty-tasting." He let out a long sigh. "Just gimme a few to recharge, then I'll get you fixed up."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"No problem. Thanks for being out here." Chad glanced around. "Though... why are you out here?"

The attendant shrugged. "Dunno what else to do, really. Some of the guys skipped town pretty quick, but my folks are all here. Figured I might as well help. 'Specially with my skill."

"Oh, so it is a skill."

"Yep." He nodded. "Got it after taking out some pretty nasty rats at my place."

"Well, I appreciate it." Chad grinned. "Hey, I'm gonna stop by the store a bit later. I'll pick you up something if they got it."

"Hey, thanks man." He yawned again. "I think they've still got stuff at the FloorMart down the street for now. No idea how long it'll last, though. Shelves were getting a bit sparse yesterday."

After a few more minutes of casual conversation and a few bucks passed to the attendant, the bike was topped up and ready to go. But instead of going directly to the store, Chad headed toward the edge of town to take care of his biggest concern -- talking to the sheriff.

The brick and beige plaster of the Cooke County Sherrif's Office stood apart from much of the town, a lonesome building near its northwest corner. Aside from Chad, there were only a pair of cars sitting out front -- a police car and a black sedan. As Chad approached the front door, he found it locked tight. The place was entirely quiet.

Hopefully the sheriff's actually here. Maybe he's out taking care of stuff though.

Just in case, he decided to knock. Sure enough, after waiting a few moments, he spotted movement beyond the tinted glass.

The door opened to reveal an older and slightly pudgy man. He was dressed in the usual khaki button-up and black slacks of the area's law enforcement. At his hip, Chad spotted the standard-issue pistol and taser holstered and ready to go.

"Yeah?" Dark bags ringed the man's red-rimmed eyes. The patches and badges across his shirt identified him as Sheriff Clay. Though the Sheriff (Lvl 5) tag also helped to confirm his identity.

"Nice to meet you, sheriff." Chad extended a hand in greeting. "Name's Chadwick Armstrong."

The sheriff eyed Chad's arm with suspicion, not moving to accept the handshake. "Uh-huh. Can I help you?"

"Yeah. I'm here to talk about protecting the town."

Sheriff Clay's gaze flicked above Chad's head for a brief moment. His eyes widened. "Is that so?

"Yeah. Mind if I come in?"

The man hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Sure, why not. Lord knows we could use the manpower... Follow me."

He opened the door a little wider, standing aside to let Chad through. He then led the arm wrestler down a couple of hallways into his office -- a relatively small room containing an L-shaped desk and a few wooden chairs. A map of Cooke County hung framed on the wall next to a few certifications and commendations. In the corner, an American flag hung from a pole.

The sheriff slumped heavily into his chair with a sigh and passed a hand over his face. He gestured to the seat across from him. "I've only got a few minutes before I gotta head out again, so let's make this quick. So. You want to help?"

"I do." Chad nodded as he sat. The chair creaked slightly as it accepted his weight. "And I'm not the only one. We heard you've been pretty slammed lately."

"You can say that again..." the sheriff muttered. "Who's 'we'?"

"A bunch of the locals. Tom Carrollton's out looking for other volunteers right now, so I dunno how many exactly he'll come up with. At least twenty."

Tom was a well-known and respected member of the community here. As such, he'd volunteered to spread the word about the invasion and recruit able-bodied townsfolk to help out wherever they could. Hopefully he'd be able to coordinate better than Chad could. He was never one much for that stuff, anyway. But since he couldn't be in multiple places at once, Chad had offered to talk to the sheriff at least.

"Tom..." The man snorted. "Well, guess I should expect more than a few then. That man's got more pull than he's any right to. What exactly do you mean to help with?"

"That's kinda what I wanted to ask you," Chad shrugged. "I dunno what you've been dealing with, exactly."

Sheriff Clay let out another long sigh. "What haven't we dealt with? Animals going nuts, hysteric townsfolk, looters, not to mention these weird powers everyone's got now... It's been hell to navigate."

"You've been seeing a lot of monsters?"

"Yep." The sheriff reached toward a mug of steaming coffee on his desk and took a sip. "Near the edge of town, mostly. It's how my deputies and I are getting levels. That and the animals. Feels like damn near everything's out for blood all of a sudden... but anyway."

"Well that one we can help with." Chad explained what they'd talked about the night before -- the militia, scouting parties, and town warning system. By the end of it, Sheriff Clay was shaking his head.

"The communication stuff all makes sense to me. We're happy to help with that using our own resources, too. But all this militia talk? That sounds a bit…"

"We're making sure the volunteers can shoot. Even better if they've got useful combat skills and whatnot." Chad pressed. "Besides, you're shorthanded. You said it yourself. Someone's gotta pick up the slack."

"Slow down, son. I'm not saying I don't want their help." Sheriff Clay held out a hand. "I'm saying that it doesn't make sense to do this as a separate thing. It might cause more problems than it solves. I'd much rather deputize everyone, give em' some basic training, then get 'em working with my own boys."

"Yes!" Chad nodded excitedly. "That's perfect."

"Yeah…" The man chewed thoughtfully on his lip. "I dunno who I can spare for training. Or what kinda training they'd even need… Maybe we just group yall up with a few of my men to lead… Yeah, we can do that."

"Do you need anything else? Equipment, guns?" Chad asked. "We might be able to scrape some extras up if you need em'."

"We're fine, for now. I doubt Tom's gonna bring any volunteers who don't have a few guns of their own, at least. But I'll keep that in mind for later." With a final sigh, the man straightened once more. "Fine. You tell Tom and whoever else you've got coordinating this stuff to come to me. We'll figure out how to make something work. Now if only we can get some other reinforcements, too…"

Now it was Chad's turn to shake his head. "That's probably not gonna happen. That broadcast last night looked pretty crazy. I doubt anyone's gonna send reinforcements here instead of there."

"You've got a point there." Sheriff Clay took another sip of his coffee. "I wouldn't want to be the Dallas Police Department right now. If they've gotten four hours of sleep in the last few days I'd be shocked."

"Thanks, Sheriff." Chad reached out his hand to shake again. "Glad to have your support on this. I'm sure it'll make things easier down the line."

"Yeah, yeah." This time, the man accepted the handshake. "This is gonna be a political nightmare if we survive... In the meantime, maybe there is something you can do for me. I need info, and it seems like you've got a few levels on my boys. I'd be interested to hear what you've seen."

"'Course!" Chad agreed easily. "It's a pretty cool story..."