CHAPTER ONE - THE SHIFT

The sleepy English town of Thistledon was in its biannual state of excitement. Wrapped like a wreath around the university at its core, the area was home to lots of promising young individuals, and today was graduation day. The economical lifeblood of the area was in the matriculation of these pupils, the population made up of students and those who worked for the school.

And I was late, of course.

“Are you sure you’re ready this time?” I ignored the question’s patronising slant. Of course, I was ready. I had been ready before I realised that I had forgotten my student identification at home. Five years at the place and they still wouldn’t let me in the gate if I didn’t show the card. Holding back a retort, I nodded instead. Jamie shook her head. “I know you’re in the middle of the list, but as a Baker, I need to be there early.”

“I’m pretty sure they would stop the whole thing until you arrived. Aren’t you, like, a guest of honour?” I half-joked. It was true that the Bakers were essentially celebrities around here. “There hasn’t been a single Baker who graduated from St Gerrard’s who hasn’t changed the world,” I parrotted a line her father said more than once in my presence. I enjoyed the shiver of discomfort that went through my best friend.

“You sound so much like him, I hate it.” Jamie frowned and I flashed her a winning smile. The walk from my student accommodation to the university was done quickest through the park which separated the two complexes. We passed a few locals, and I was tempted to stop in the café but a glare from Jamie made me rethink. We were pushing it fairly close.

“Cutting it close,” Darren said, the guard on the gate smiling as we approached. If I never saw the pig-eyed man again it would be too soon. “Got your Identification this time, Grant?” He asked in a sickly sweet tone.

Yeah, because the stupid robes and the fact you know me by name isn’t enough. I glared at him as I produced the plastic card. Jamie beside me didn’t bother and wasn’t asked for her’s, something I didn’t point out. The world was unfair in a million different ways, and highlighting them all would be useless.

We weren’t the last to arrive, but it was a close thing. Joining the back of the ushered group, we were pushed into the main presentation hall of St Gerrard’s University. There was a strange coppery taste in the air here, like I had a cut on my tongue. The room was too silent to complain, or so Jamie’s glare told me. So, I just took my seat and waited for my turn like a good boy.

The procession of excited faces went past, each getting a handshake and their diploma. A name was called, a smattering of applause was sounded and then they walked to the side until the end. It wasn’t like I wasn’t happy or proud of myself, I just couldn’t muster the energy to smile about earning this. It was my reward for working myself to the bone for years, not a gift being given. My thoughts turned just venomous enough that I chastised myself. Calm down, my inner monologue soothed, you knew it was going to be like this.

Lonely, despite the crowd. I didn’t bother looking into the sea of waiting familial faces to see if any matched my own. I’d have seen the bright orange-red hair already if they were here. Unwilling to be dragged further down, I forced myself to feel relieved that my family weren’t here. One less stress to deal with, I supposed.

“Grant Kaeron.”

Trapped in my own thoughts, I didn’t start moving for a moment. A nudge to my back jump started my motion and with mechanical steps I crossed the stage to where the dean was holding my diploma ready. That coppery taste became sharper and I stopped. Something felt wrong. From the confused look on the dean’s face, the only thing wrong was myself. Except-

“Thirty.”

Deep and sonorous, a voice boomed in my head. I was glad to be looking at a sea of faces who likewise winced, or I would have thought it was just me. I blinked, swallowing down that terrible taste and beginning to move. “Ah! Excuse me! Mr Kaeron?” The dean, bless her heart, was still trying to give me my certificate. I walked straight off the stage instead, landing with a spring and moving quickly.

Something seriously bad was happening. Even as the voice appeared again, causing screams of panic in the hall, I was moving. There would be a crush. When I found my target, I grabbed her by the wrist and started running. “What are you doing?” Jamie shouted over the noise. I didn’t really care about anyone else here, but making sure she didn’t get stampeded over was an easy enough priority to deal with.

“Just trust me,” I shouted back. There was an uproar and confusion, but we were already out of the hall when the third announcement came. “A bit shorter than a minute? What’s it counting down to?”

“Twenty Eight.”

“Will you stop?” Jamie ripped her hand from my grip, rubbing her wrist. “What’s going on, Grant?” I didn’t let us stop moving, gesturing for her to follow which she did, thankfully.

“Uhh, as far as I can tell, we’re all hearing a countdown in our heads?”

“Yeah, I’m hearing it, too,” Jamie huffed, “but what is it?” I stopped at the gates of the university. There were the beginnings of chaos already. These next twenty minutes were going to get dangerous.

“We need to find somewhere safe, somewhere people aren’t going to go crazy.” My mind was racing. Was my apartment even good enough at this point? There wasn’t much food there and it was on the ground floor, so it wasn’t particularly protected. Every fibre of my being was telling me that something world-changing was happening, and not in a good way.

“I need to get home,” Jamie whispered. My heart sank. Home for Jamie was in the middle of London, which we were on the outskirts of. An argument began to form in my mouth but she whipped around on me like she heard my thoughts. Jamie’s stature wasn’t anything impressive, average height for a woman her age, with the light brown eyes and blonde hair of her Spanish ancestry. Still, I would never choose to outright argue with her.

Not when the fire in her eyes was ignited.

“Okay,” I nodded. A few people were power walking past us, flinching at the sky as the voice sounded out again. “Okay. Okay, we can do that but let’s wait until this countdown-”

“It’s not your job, Grant.” Jamie’s intense eyes were aimed right at me, and they were… angry? “It’s not. You don’t have to make everything perfect for everyone else without doing anything for yourself.” I was a little stunned, and had no response while Jamie pulled her phone out. She then growled in anger and put it back in her bag. “No signal. You?”

Shaken from the shock by the question, I produced my mobile phone. Same issue. “Have the providers gone down?” I wondered aloud. Looking up, Jamie was walking away from me in the direction of her home. “Hey, wait a minute!”

“Twenty Six.”

Jamie turned around and she had been about to say something when the voice spoke over her, so she waited a moment before trying again. “No, Grant. I’m always waiting for you. There’s always another angle to think about, but not right now. This is serious, and I need to find my family. It’s not my fault that your’s don’t matter to you.” With that stinging jab, she turned away again and kept walking.

I had no retort, and the grumpy frustration I had been feeling all day bubbled over into outright anger. “Fuck you, then.” I muttered, turning the other way and heading towards my accommodation. I would collect my things and go into the woods if I had to. I knew that people were the danger when the unexpected happened, so I wanted to avoid them if I could.

Frustration had me lost in my own thoughts until I was leaving my accommodation. The place was small, and I had never really made it mine. Sentimentality wasn’t really my strong suit, so I ended up preferring a minimalistic aesthetic. The voice was intoning that we had reached “Nineteen,” when I was coming out of the door.

Looking frazzled and confused, not far from my front door, was an elderly woman. I had seen her around and I approached her as I struggled to remember her name. She was blind as a bat, so I coughed as I got closer. “Mrs… Naebol?” It came to me as I said it. It’s not your job, Grant. I rebelled against Jamie’s selfish words as I decided I would help her. “Can I help you get somewhere safe?”

I touched her shoulder gently as I spoke up. With a surprisingly solid grip, she grabbed my wrist. “You’re that Kaeron boy, aren’t you?” I didn’t struggle against her cold grasp for fear of doing damage. I was fairly sure Mrs Naebol was as old as the original sin, and any sharp movement might snap her in two. It made things easier that she recognised my voice.

“Yeah, that’s right. Grant Kaeron, will you walk with me? It’s not safe here.” It wasn’t safe anywhere, really. I could hear sirens in the distance, which was impressive really. If everyone was hearing this countdown, anyone still working was a hero, especially when it put them in harm’s way. The old woman shook her head, her tight net of grey hair wobbling slightly.

“I knew this would happen,” she tutted again. I began walking with hope that she would move, which she did. She wasn’t letting go and I couldn’t blame her. Blind, quiet and tiny, what chance did she have if the world fell apart and no one helped her? I would grab the first person I could, too. She nodded and I flinched as the voice boomed again.

Eighteen.

“Jesus chr-ikey. Crikey.” I frowned, looking skywards. I wasn’t religious but it was probably not the best time to be throwing around names in vain. I couldn’t help thinking of home, which I shut down quickly. The rolling hills of Ireland would be waiting for me after all this chaos, I was sure. “Are you hearing that, Mrs Naebol? Let’s get somewhere warm.”

I couldn’t consciously say what drew me towards the café in the park. Petulance maybe, because I had wanted to go earlier and was told no. The strange voice in the sky had sounded two more times as we slowly made our way there. Pushing the door open, everyone in the room seemed to flinch at once. “Sorry,” I winced.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Clive’s, once owned by the man himself, was now run by Sandra, his widow. I didn’t need to do any explaining as she came flapping over and collected Mrs Naebol. Clive had passed away a few years ago, but the name of the business stuck. Like a mother hen, Sandra covered the elderly woman with her shawl. She released me and I turned for the not yet closed door behind me.

“Fifteen. Integration Initiated.”

Like it had been closed by a giant, the door flew back and I was launched away with the force. I had just enough time to react to throw my left hand behind my head as cover. I bounced angrily around the room, scattering some empty chairs and tables as I collapsed in an agonised heap. I proved myself conscious by stringing together an impressive line of expletives. People began to crowd me, which only made me want to scream even more.

“Hey. Hey, listen to me. Kid, look at me.” Following the voice, I forced my eyes to focus and met the man’s gaze. Watery blue orbs sitting underneath bushy silver eyebrows and above a bulbous nose. Everything hurt but I tried to pay attention. He began asking questions that seemed irrelevant, but as no one was stopping him, it must have been the right thing to do. Did I go to the university? Yup. Had I tried the sandwiches on sale here? Most lunchtimes I got free, yes sir. Could I take a deep breath? Well, sure, watch.

“Fourteen.”

I howled as the man yanked my shoulder down and back into its socket. It was as though he pulled my conscious mind with it, the new pain blasting away the fog and confusion caused by the door. “What happened?” I asked, trying to get to my feet. Pain shot through my torso and I hissed and lay back down to gasp.

“That’ll hurt for a while.” The man who relocated my arm patted my chest. I had seen him over the years I lived in the area. He was a plumber, I believed, though we had never had any reason to interact before. He stood, dusting off his paint-marked jeans and extended a hand which felt like he was taunting me. Did he had to reach for my damaged side? I took it regardless, ignoring the razor blades in my back as he hauled me to my feet.

Now it was my turn to look at the door with accusation, glaring daggers at it while asking “what the fuck is going on?” Though I basically whispered the question to myself, Sandra’s head snapped my way so hard her earrings clattered loudly. I smothered an eye roll and turned an apologetic expression her way before gesturing my head to my shoulder for sympathy. It worked and she continued fussing over the elderly woman, handing her a cup of tea.

“Thirteen.”

The combination of pain, confusion and a slowly rising claustrophobia got the better of me and I kicked at the door. It did open an inch, which is a lot less than I would have expected. The retaliation was swift, and I was launched back into the café once more, tumbling and cursing again as my shoulder lanced with pain. More than a few people were openly looking at me with outright anger at this point. “Oh, whatever,” I couldn’t pretend to care about their opinion, “it’s not like you were just having a nice lunch before I came in.”

“He’s right,” a woman with glasses agreed, panic clear in her voice. “What are we doing here?” I stopped short of nodding with her, as others moved to try and calm her down. Except in doing so they crowded the scared woman. She lifted her laptop high over her head, threatening to hit anyone who came close. “Get away from me!”

If anyone had been approaching, they weren’t anymore. “It’s alright, darling, no need to get all crazy.” The man who had fixed my shoulder was now taking charge of this situation, but where help me required fast action, the current situation required not talking down to a panicked woman with slightly misogynistic language. A target the fearless leader in the room widely missed. Glasses Woman looked infuriated by this.

“Me? Crazy? That boy’s the only one doing anything! The rest of you are the crazy ones.” I shrank into the seat next to Mrs Naebol shaking my head as though to say don’t drag me into this, crazy lady. Mrs Naebol next to me downed her cup of tea like a shot of whiskey.

“Twelve.”

Despite the seriousness of my own injuries, which I felt a little disconnected from, it was easy to find the situation more absurd than frightening. A mysterious voice was counting down to something unknown and I was stuck in a café with a bunch of strangers. The doors were blocked by some inexplicable means and no answers were forthcoming. The back and forth argument between the helpful guy and Glasses Lady continued until-

“Eleven.”

Something snapped, and the tension became too much. The man lunged for Glasses Woman, though what he had been planning to do I had no idea. It didn’t matter because as he reached her, she was already launching her laptop at the window. “No!” I shouted amongst the cacophony of noise as the whole room screamed. If I couldn’t open the door, I doubted having the window broken open would be a good thing.

Unfortunately for her, and the man standing just behind her, the laptop never cleared the glass. Like a forcefield, the impact sent the laptop screaming back in the other direction. I was still looking at the window, confused as to why it didn’t break, when the true screaming started. The yelling before was because people were frightened, but this?

This was the scream of trauma.

“Huh?” The Glasses Woman asked, as an upper portion of her body slipped away from the rest. “Whuh?” She said, face down in a quickly growing puddle of her own blood. The helpful man just gurgled in response. The laptop which had sliced right through her had embedded itself in his chest and face, crushing bone. It was around the same time I realised this as he seemed to, the helpful man falling to his knees with a grunt.

It all happened so fast.

“What was that? What’s happening?” Mrs Naebol grabbed my arm again. Pain and shock had already taken most of my wits from me, so it took me a second to remember she couldn’t see. I considered describing the scene to her, but the idea caused my mind to shrink away from reality once more. Pesky.

Instead, I chuckled. “I was supposed to graduate today.” There wasn’t much I could do about falling into shock at this point. Simply too many things had conspired at once. I noticed absently that far more blood was escaping from the top part of the bisected woman as opposed to the bottom. Mrs Naebol turned to me, and I saw that some blood had spattered onto her face. I grabbed a napkin and wiped it away, causing her to smile.

“So, this is really happening?” She asked, causing my heart to wobble a little. She was blind, with no clue what was going on, and now all she could hear was screaming.

“Yeah, lots of bad things are happening, Mrs Naebol. It’ll be okay, though,” I lied. She reached up to my cheek, pinching it slightly. I tried to bat her hand away by instinct and it was like hitting a metal claw. “What?”

“Ten.”

“Ugh,” I shouted at the sky, “shut the fuck up. Can you not hear that, Mrs Naebol?” Each time the voice spoke it was louder than the time before. Deep, bassy and terrifying, Mrs Naebol was the only person who didn’t react to its countdown. She hadn’t reacted once, now that I actively tried to think about it. Instead of answering, she smiled a gentle smile, discordant with the drama behind her. The air around us became noticeably calmer, the sounds of useless triage from the other patrons falling away.

“This isn’t my first go around, kid.” As she spoke, Mrs Naebol’s milky eyes cleared. I found myself locked in place with wonder as two purple nebula appeared where her irises should be. “And I’m not looking for another.”

“I don’t understand,” I whispered, unable to move anything but my lips. A tear ran down my face. My confusion only grew as her face seemed to become more youthful by the second. She didn’t look young, by any means, but much younger. A grandmother rather than a great-great grandmother. “What’s happening?”

“Nine,” the countdown spoke, but it, too, was muted. Two burning orbs of amethyst burned into my eyes. Their intensity was greater than the sun, but I couldn’t look away. Fear continued to rise in my chest. The fear of what was to come when the countdown finished seemed to become real in an instant. Something world-changing was happening. The coppery taste was in the air again, and this time it definitely was blood.

“Truly, I am very sorry,” Mrs Naebol said, her voice strong and confident.

“Wha-”

Then everything went dark as my consciousness got bitchslapped by a sandpaper glove covered in lemon juice. In a reversed flash, the world disappeared. All of my senses except touch vanished. I felt my muscles snap into positions they were not meant to move. I could feel nothing but my own body moving against my will. Something was puppeting me. I screamed in terror but had no idea if I was actually making the noise.

I could feel parts of my psyche being branded by the experience as I tried desperately to scream for help. Sandra? Mrs Naebol? Jamie? Anyone, please, god, help me. Freedom did not come quickly, however. I felt myself move with huge jarring thuds as though I were an action figure being smashed about the room. There was no pain to it all, but I wailed for every second of the harrowing experience.

When the world reappeared around me, I was still screaming. My throat was torn to shreds by the force of my shouting. My fingers felt sticky and all of my muscles burned like I had run a marathon. I realised I was panting. Going twelve rounds with a heavyweight was a better comparison, actually. “Oww…” I moaned.

I tumbled to the floor, slipping on a spilled drink. Touch had remained, hearing and taste came back and now it was time for pain. I groaned and tried to stand but the slick floor was no help. I bumped into a few things before finding the food counter, upon which I hauled myself to my feet slowly. I took a deep breath and regretted it. The taste of blood in my mouth redoubled as the scent of it increased.

The final sense to recover was sight.

How I wished it never did.

I coughed and gagged, tasting the blood again as my eyes took in the scene around me. Except the taste wasn’t phantom this time, and a large glob of thick crimson slime fell from my mouth like a bolognese in reverse. I heaved again, because the walls were covered. Every spot was drenched in the stuff.

“This is very poor form from me,” a voice spoke to my side. I shrieked, which would have embarrassed me anywhere else but felt appropriate here. Sitting on one of the only standing chairs, looking exhausted herself, was Mrs Naebol. “You weren’t supposed to wake up until I was done.”

“One.”

I cringed. I had completely forgotten about the countdown as the minutes of darkness and silence had passed. Now, it was nearly over. “What are you talking about?” I asked, looking into her gemstone eyes. I was pretty sure the world was ending, I had also probably gone insane and it certainly seemed like I had killed this room full of people. I might as well humour the old lady at the end.

“What the System does to people is cruel. Good people don’t survive long.” Her eyes still seared into my own with unexplainable energy, and I felt as that energy grasped hold of my mind again. It was the same as before my blackout, though I could sense it happening this time. Maybe I gained some kind of resistance to the control.

Not enough resistance.

“Zero. System Online. Good Luck.”

The instant the countdown finished, Mrs Naebol took control of my limbs once more. I watched in confused and then nauseous horror as she piloted my body over to hers, a sad smile plastered on her features. I tried to fight as my hands rose, wrapping around her small neck and beginning to squeeze. No, no, no, no, no-

There was a brutal crack. The light vanished from Mrs Naebol’s eyes and the control over my limbs disappeared once more. I immediately threw myself back, tumbling over a table and once more jostling my arm. I ignored the pain as words started to appear in the air, alongside a small ding sound.

Ding! “Level up!”

The voice from the countdown spoke the words which appeared floating in the air before me happily into my head. Then, it happened again. And again. Then something seemed to finally break because the volume jumped a magnitude and the words became a jumbled mess. “Level-achieve-title unl-new ques- Level up!- Would you like- Level up!- to loot Naeboroseax-Level up!-gon Slayer, equi-Inventor- Level up!”

My vision filled with confusing numbers and text boxes. The world was nothing but pain, blood, fear and death. Somewhere within me, a pressure seemed to build, over and over like a balloon. It was all too much. I needed to leave. I stepped forward and my foot slipped in the blood. As I fell, my head clipped the corner of a table hard and the inky dark of unconsciousness dragged me away. The questions and sounds from the prompts kept coming.

“Yeah, yeah” I mumbled, fading away, “yeah.”