Bo stared at his gore-stained gloves that now held only the scraps of his foe's red-checkered shirt. The rest of the man's body was just gone. Or, more accurately, it was sprayed across Bo and everything else within twenty feet of where he’d stood when he detonated.
Once again, the pitmaster was covered from head to toe in someone else's viscera. His beard was matted with the stuff, and he had to use the backs of his gloves to clear his eyes enough to see.
“What a mess,” Martin said as he joined Bo. “You really put a hurting on this guy.”
Bo raised an eyebrow at Martin and frowned. “You think I did this? The guy exploded.”
Martin shrugged. “I just saw you teleport, go all Spider-Man on those guys over there, and then speed bag these fellows. Not hard to believe you could make people explode just by looking at them wrong.”
Bo chuckled and raked meaty chunks out of his beard. He looked at them in disgust, then tossed the whole mess on the ground. “Don’t worry. I can’t make people explode with my mind,” Bo said. “We need to get the survivors locked down before they get any ideas about a counterattack.”
“Already on it,” Martin said. “The boys already have most of them zip-tied. We’ll get the rest of them now.”
Bo fixed Martin with a questioning stare. “Where'd you get the zip ties?”
“I never go anywhere without zip ties,” Martin said. “They're awful handy. Plus, the boys and I thought there might be trouble at the cookoff. You know how it can get after a few drinks. Zip ties let you keep folks out of trouble without hurting them.”
On the one hand, Bo was glad that Martin had zip ties to keep the cowboy hats from retaliating until they could discuss what was really going on here. On the other, he was a little concerned about what, exactly, Martin had intended to do if things got out of hand at the cookoff. Bo didn’t care much for vigilante justice.
What his plans were, that was before. If you concern yourself about such petty things now, you may chase away those would make strong allies. Forget about the past. Look to the future.
That had been Bo's problem all along, he realized. He kept looking back, not ahead. The pitmaster made a silent promise to himself that those days were over. People depended on him now, and Barbie was right. What people were like before the world got flipped upside down didn't matter. The only things that were important were the here and now.
“You’re a regular Boy Scout, Martin,” Boy said. “Let's talk to these guys, see what the heck's going on here.”
Martin's friends had dragged the cowboy hats into a ragged line, then plopped them down on their butts. Bo did a quick check of their prisoners’ hands and feet. The zip ties were tight, but didn’t cut off the circulation. That was good. Bo didn’t need anyone losing their hands or feet.
“Which one of you is in charge?” he asked.
For a moment, none of the cowboy hats had anything to say. Then, finally, one of them cleared his throat and tilted his head back so Bo could see his face beneath the wide brim of his hat. “I guess that's me,” the rugged-looking man said. “There's not much I can tell you, though. Sorry we had to attack you, it's not like… Look, I don't want to end up like Frank, okay?”
“The guy who exploded?” Jenny asked. “We’ll do our best not to cause anyone else to blow up. What’s your name?”
The guy seemed nervous to even answer that question, but he finally squeezed his eyes shut and said, “Aaron.”
He opened one eye, seemed quite surprised he hadn't exploded, and visibly relaxed. Bo didn't know what had happened between the cowboy hats and dog men, but it had certainly put the fear into Aaron and the others.
“Okay, Aaron,” the pitmaster said. “My name's Bo. My friends and I cleared the monsters out of the casino. We can help you, too, if you’ll let us. I'd like to avoid getting any messier than I already am. So, I'll ask you a question, and you nod your head if you think I'm right.”
Aaron nodded once. The rest of the cowboy hats cringed at that, and those on either side of their leader leaned away from him. The pitmaster wondered just how many of their friends had burst apart at the seams before he’d arrived.
“Question number one,” Bo said. “Do these dog men have magic cards?”
Aaron squeezed his eyes shut, then shrugged. “I honestly don’t know the answer to that one. Didn’t see any cards. I don’t even know what they want—”
“That ain’ true, Aaron,” the man at the right end of the line said. “They told us to bring—”
“Carl, shut up!” Aaron shouted.
“—him to the—”
And those were the last words that Carl ever said.
“Goddamnit,” Aaron gasped, wiping the man’s splatter off his face. “Why were so stupid, Carl?”
Bo sighed and wiped the blood from his eyes. Again. This was getting old.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” Bo said. “The rest of you need to zip your lips, okay? Don’t say anything, and you’ll be just fine. I don’t mean to make your day any worse, Aaron, but can you answer some more questions for me?”
The leader of the cowboy hats nodded, though he looked awfully green under all that red.
Bo pressed on with some more general questions that didn’t pose any risk of making someone explode. He went back and forth with the Aaron for a few minutes to get the gist of the problem. The men here called themselves the Knights of the Holy Roast, a name that made Bo roll his eyes when he heard it. They'd gathered around a hunk of magical roast beef that Aaron swore called to him until he agreed to protect it. In return, the beef would never dwindle, no matter how much they ate. But Aaron had also been warned that if he anything happened to the beef, he and his followers (which turned out to be the guys on his roadwork crew, at least those who hadn't taken off to find their families), would suffer a terrible fate.
“It’s been two days since the world went nuts and you’re already worshiping a side of beef?” Jenny asked. “Let me guess. This used to be an Arby's?”
“I think so,” Aaron said. “Though, honestly, it's getting kind of hard to remember. And you didn’t hear its voice. Like an angel.”
The man’s eyes went all dreamy and wistful. Bo wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at that. It was clear the beef had somehow gotten into this guy’s head. The pitmaster wasn’t sure what that meant, but it felt like the Knights of the Holy Roast had put themselves on the wrong end of the food chain.
Bo was also concerned that his mind was slipping. Because he'd been through this neck of the woods plenty of times. Try as he might, though, he couldn't pin down a memory of what the building it looked like, or if it had even been an Arby's. How was it possible he could forget something like that in less than three days?
The overlay is getting stronger. Parts of your world are being unwound and replaced with versions more consistent with the new reality. Because the very nature of reality is shifting, your memories of that reality will also change. I believe the intent is to make your transition from one reality to another less traumatic.
That answer didn’t exactly settle Bo’s worries, but it made him consider how he really felt about the changes he’d experienced. The pre-deck world had been pretty shitty to him, truth be told. He was an orphan. Loan sharks had been a day away from breaking his legs. Probably his fingers, too.
Other than a nagging worry about his sister, and losing his old man’s smoker, Bo realized he might have come out ahead because of the apocalypse.
Weird.
“Okay, Aaron,” Bo said, shaking out of his reverie. “Now we know a little about you. Let's see what you can tell us about these dog men.”
The instant he said that last pair of words, every one of the cowboy hats cringed and clenched their eyes. Bo felt the faint crackle of magical energy in the air and noticed sparks of light dancing around each of the men. It was faint, and not at all easy to see, but there was no denying the aura flashing around the men. It passed in a few moments, but Bo knew they hadn't seen the last of it. He’d have to be very careful not to kill one of these guys with a badly phrased question.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Thanks to your friend’s sacrifice, we know they came from the southwest,” Bo said, and the sparks returned with a vengeance. He waited for them to die down again before he continued. “And judging from what I see right now, they put some sort of curse on you guys.”
Aaron nodded, very slightly, and tensed when the sparks came back. The curse, or whatever it was, had a very sensitive trigger. Bo realized any direct questions could cause a very messy series of explosions.
Perhaps a new tactic is in order. Approach the questions from an indirect perspective. Instead of asking about the dog men, ask about something related to them.
That was a good idea, and Bo mentally thanked the devil. The pitmaster was still angry at Barbie for tricking him into the possession business, but he had to admit the creature’s thoughts had come in handy. Even if he wasn’t always sure it was in his best interest to follow them. This time, though, he couldn’t see any downside to taking the devil’s suggestion.
Bo looked at Martin and Jenny, both of whom gave him noncommittal shrugs. Jenny hadn’t been back this way in years, and Bo realized he didn’t know where Martin hailed from. They probably knew less about this part of the country than he did.
Okay, that left all the heavy lifting to him.
All Bo knew for certain was that the bad guys were dog men, whatever that meant. Could be they were actual dog-human hybrids. Or maybe monsters with big packs of hunting dogs. Maybe they were wolfmen or some crap. Frank had been sure they had something to do with dogs, anyway. And if what Bo had seen of dungeons so far held true, then the monsters had some relationship to regular dogs. Where would there have been a lot of people and a lot of dogs when everything went to crap?
It took the pitmaster only a few seconds to come up with an answer. He was actually pretty proud of his powers of deductive reasoning.
“I’m not from around here,” Bo said, choosing his words carefully. “Can any of you tell me where the nearest animal shelter was before everything went screwy?”
The cowboy hats hesitated for a moment, then Aaron cleared his throat. He looked terrified, but didn't let that stop him. “There was a volunteer animal control outfit in Gainesville.”
The aura didn’t even pop that time. Bo thanked his lucky stars that he had the information he needed. Or, rather, that he hoped he'd needed. He was still operating in the realm of guesses, but this one felt solid. An animal shelter would have plenty of dogs in it, and there was a good chance that a bunch of people would be there looking for a new pet over the holiday weekend.
Of course, Gainesville was ten miles from the former casino. That was a lot of tramping around in the wilderness, especially considering they’d have to pass through two other hexes, one of which held the refugees.
A six-mile hex is large. If the refugees are, in fact, the lost gnomes, they will not have enough boots on the ground to see everything that happens in their hex. Be careful, and you can walk right through their territory without attracting any attention.
Barbie's opinion seemed sound. They’d just have to go slow, keep their eyes peeled, and not stumble into any ambushes.
Should be easy. Just like going to a barbecue cookoff and winding up in the apocalypse.
“If we leave all of you here,” Bo said to the cowboy hats, “do you promise not to cause us any more trouble?”
The men licked their lips nervously, as if trying to decide what they could safely say. Aaron finally steeled himself for instant annihilation, squeezed his eyes shut, and said, “I think if you come back, we’ll have to attack you again.”
“Okay,” Bo said, disappointed. “That sucks. Here's the deal. We’ll leave you a knife to cut yourselves loose. We won't come back unless we solve the roast beast problem. But I want to be clear. If you move against the casino or attack my people, there’ll be no mercy. Clear?”
The cowboy hats all bobbed their heads in unison. Bo felt bad for them. It was obvious they didn't want to fight, but it was just as obvious they didn’t have a choice in the matter. The dog men had done something terrible to these poor guys, and now it was up to Bo to fix it.
And, if he couldn’t, the pitmaster would have to come back and end Aaron and his friends. Because he could not have a loaded gun aimed at the back of his head from the northern border of his hex. It would be suicidal to leave the Knights of the Holy Roast alive if he couldn’t break the curse that made them his magical enemies.
Jenny pulled a folding pocket knife out of her jeans. She showed it to Aaron, then tossed it into the weeds a few yards away from his position. “Don't start looking for it until we’re out of sight. Understand?”
Aaron nodded. “Thank you. I'm sorry.”
“I know, Bo said. Then to his allies, “Let's go.”
YOU HAVE ACCEPTED A NEW CHALLENGE!
Pound Town
You have new enemies to deal with. They’ve stolen something precious from the Knights of the Holy Roast.
GOAL: Return the Holy Roast to the knights sworn to defend it.
REWARD: An alliance with the Knights of the Holy Roast Faction. 1 Community Build Point.
PENALTY: The knights will remain your magically controlled enemies and must either be destroyed or avoided in the future. Plus, you know, the dog men will probably keep causing you trouble. Just saying.
CHALLENGE ADDED TO YOUR ROSTER
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The pitmaster and his allies had little to say as they walked south. Bo was lost in thought about what came next. Gainesville wasn’t a big city by any stretch of the imagination. It was, however, large enough to make searching it for a volunteer animal shelter one giant pain in Bo’s ass. Especially considering how much the apocalypse had changed things.
But moaning about the problem wouldn’t change anything. Defeating the dog men would gain him new allies and a Community Build Point. This was something he had to do.
“What do you think these dog men are?” Jenny asked. “Island of Dr. Moreau hybrids or something?”
“I bet they’re werewolves,” Martin said. “ Bunch of shape shifting freaks who cast spells.”
“You're just a bundle of good thoughts,” Bo said. “It's probably something none of us expect. I don't see dogs, or werewolves, casting spells. That’s more of a cat thing.”
The group debated the likely threats they might face during the rest of the walk back to the casino. Once they’d returned to their new home, Bo reassured his friends there that, no, he hadn’t slaughtered all the Knights of the Holy Roast, and, no, the blood wasn’t theres. They then explained the situation to Lydia and Slick, fed themselves from the smoker, then prepared themselves to head out again. Bo could have used more fighters, but he didn't have time to figure out which of the people who relied on him could be trusted when things turned ugly. Given that, Bo felt better leaving more people behind to fend off any threats that might show up while he was on the road.
“We'll be gone a couple of days, probably,” Bo said. “Finding this place won't be easy. Something tells me we’ll be in for a hell of a fight when we get there, too.”
“Be careful,” Lydia said. “This could be a trap.”
“Yeah,” Bo said. “I kind of figured that.”
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The ten-mile hike from Bo's camp to Gainesville was far more peaceful than any of them had expected. Sure, thunder bison rumbled past in the distance, and jackalopes haunted them from the safety of the weeds, but nothing tried to kill them, and no giant snakes reared up in their path. The most dangerous encounter they had was with the roadway's treacherous surface. One of Martin's men caught his foot in a pothole and nearly broke his damned leg. If Jenny hadn't been there to catch them, that have had to split their forces to get an injured man back to the camp. Martin gave his friends pretty stern dressing down over that, and everyone agreed to be a lot more careful where they put their boot.
The difficult footing slowed the party and forced them to rest a lot more often than Bo would've liked. He realized that his +4 Constitution and +3 Strength gave him a significant leg up over the rest of his allies. When Martin begged him to stop walking for a few minutes so the rest of them could catch their breath, Bo could have walked miles farther before he had to stop. This reduced their movement to a series of marches broken up by breaks to let everyone recuperate before starting off on another march.
That was frustrating, but the pitmaster knew he couldn't rush his people. They'd still need to search the town once they reached it, and there was a very good chance they’d be fighting. Arriving at their destination with a bunch of exhausted men in tow could only end in disaster. Every time they stopped moving, though, the pitmaster worried about ambushes or monsters finding them. Fortunately, even when they crossed through the boundary between hexes, they weren't stopped. It looked like Barbie had been right.
When they reached Gainesville, Bo realized he'd made the right decision when he gave everyone ample time to rest during their journey. Though it was late in the afternoon, and the party had been on the move all day, Martin, Jenny, and the rest of the party still looked like they had a few hours left in their tanks. That was good, because the city Bo saw spread out before him was not welcoming.
The harvester invasion hadn't completely reshaped or eradicated the town. Most of the buildings had become smaller and more primitive, but the city's basic layout was intact. Some structures were little more than wooden lean-tos, with a few larger stone-and-wood buildings that looked like they'd once been buildings. Despite all the potential homes, what Bo didn't see was what worried him the most.
“Where are all the people?” Jenny asked, giving voice to the pitmaster's fear. “We should see someone down there, right?”
A harvesting team could not have cleared out this whole area. It would require something more powerful than that.
Something like a badass devil, Bo thought.
“Doesn’t matter,” Martin said, matter-of-factly. “We’re not here to play fire and rescue. We’re here to kick monster ass. Where do we start, Bo?”
The pitmaster looked down into the maze of buildings and rubble that had once been a small town. He wondered where all the people had gone, and where the dog men could be hiding. Something told him those two questions had the same answer. As he surveyed the town, a strange weight settled on his mind. Turning his head left or right seemed to make that gravity stronger or weaker, allowing Bo to figure out the source’s location in short order.
Whatever made his head feel funny came from a long, low-slung building on the east side of town. It was still a good hike to reach it, and their journey would take them through some of the most congested parts of the little town. Before Bo could tell his allies what he’d discovered, though, something else caught his attention.
The riffling sound of shuffling cards tickled his ears. As the sound intensified, Bo felt a cold certainty clutch his heart in its icy grasp.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“What’s the problem?” Jenny asked.
“I think there’s another champion down there,” Bo replied.