They did make it to a hotel that evening, and as soon as they booked their rooms, they went out to grab dinner. Most of the restaurants seemed to be still open despite the supply chain issues and warnings from the government to shelter in place. Not everywhere had a dungeon in the front yard or monsters creeping around the next turn. And after several weeks, people were antsy to try an establish some kind of new normal.
Just sitting around and waiting for the apocalypse to end was not going to work because it had become quite clear that this was not an apocalypse that would end. It was just the end of the way things had been before. And that was fine. People could adapt.
Except for the people in Texas. They were fleeing to other states. The undead had overrun the perimeter put in place by the military, which was no surprise given how thinly stretched resources were around the nuclear fallout zone from the bomb they dropped. Now, there were irradiated zombies scattered all over Texas and several other states. They did not recognize borders.
“Thanks,” Zanie said to their waiter when she brought out a basket of rolls while they waited for their food. Then she twisted in her seat again to continue watching the news on one of the Television screens.
“It’ll be interesting to see how Anderson is going to handle this now that he’s president.” Caleb shook his head. “Talk about inheriting a mess.”
“Well, he was at least open to working with us when we arrived at the capital and offered some assistance with the situation.” Hazel picked up one of the steaming rolls from the basket and broke it open as he spoke, staring at the steam that rose from the middle in amazement. “That was more than I could say for the former president.”
“That’s probably why they impeached him.” Zanie shook her head. “What an idiot. He was making the wrong decisions left and right for all of his last term in office, too. Totally out of touch with the population. Unbelievable that he got elected a second time. Too bad Anderson is not much better.”
“So, you were at the white house?” Jeremy asked Hazel.
“No.” Hazel picked up one of the little packets of butter and inspected it. “I went to DC, but was not a part of the diplomatic team, just the research team.”
“How come you are on your own now?” Zanie asked.
“We split up to cover different areas,” Hazel said. “Most others are in groups of two, but we had an uneven number of scientists because several of us went down to Texas to see if we could assist with that,” he nodded to the TV, “situation.”
“You think you will be able to help?” Caleb asked. “What if this whole thing turns into a zombie apocalypse.” His eyes widened in horror as he spoke, but then he scratched his nose and tilted his head. “We might be able to survive if we have magic, though.”
“If they can close the gate, the issue should dissipate over time.” Hazel peeled open the little gold foil and frowned at the pat of butter inside its thin plastic container.
“But won’t it spread through their bite?” Caleb asked.
Hazel shook his head. “None of the undead that I’ve encountered were in such a state because of a viral infection, as much of your fiction depicts. It is usually the result of some spell.” He stuck his finger into the butter and then licked it. “Is this butter?”
“Yeah, didn’t you read the label on the packet?” Zanie answered. “You looked at it for a really long time.”
“I did.” Hazel looked impressed with the butter in his hand, then reached for a knife so he could spread it across his roll.
“Hold on,” Jeremy drummed his fingers on the table. “So the elves you came with think that they can close the gate?”
“Well, maybe.” Hazel hedged. “Not much is known about the spell which created them outside of legend. But we at least have a better understanding of magic. It will be a challenge since the gate itself is unapproachable now. They are studying a different gate in its place, instead.”
He broke off a piece of the bread and held it out for Atticus to eat. She was lounging on the interior side of the table, up against the wall. Jeremy had been anxious about bringing her into a restaurant since she was a cat. But Caleb had just insisted that it was the apocalypse, and nobody was going to care about a cat. Jeremy thought that it wasn’t really the apocalypse if the restaurants were still serving food and that they could still ban Atticus if they wanted.
But nobody cared that she was a cat. They were all too zoned in on the news. Even after nearly a month, it continued to be shocking. The waiter even reached over the table to scritch Atticus on the top of her head.
“Wait.” Zanie put her hands flat on the table and leaned in. “You read the label on the butter packet? Does that mean your translation spell works for reading as well as speaking?”
“Yes,” Hazel answered.
She nodded and crossed her forearms on the edge of the table, “That’s really cool.”
“Oh my god.” Jeremy sat back in his seat and rubbed his hand over his mouth.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“What?” Zanie and Caleb asked at the same time.
“We can translate the book.”
Their eyes widened, and they both grinned at him.
Jeremy looked at Hazel. “Now you have to teach us the spell you are using for your translation.”
He just nodded because he had already told Jeremy that he would write down the spell for him. The waiter came around with their food, apologizing once again for the lack of selections due to the supply chain issues, which they waved away with complete understanding. Jeremy himself was simply grateful that there were still restaurants open, or else finding food would have been a bigger challenge.
Hopefully, the shipping routes around all of the disaster zones would start to run more smoothly soon. Maybe if the elves could figure out how to close the gate in Texas, they could figure out how to regulate the others and the disaster zones would no longer be necessary. It would save a lot of resources is the military no longer had to keep up perimeters and people who were evacuated might actually be able to move back into their homes.
“Hazel,” Zanie began, her tone questioning. After having scolded them for interrogating him too much, she certainly seemed to have the most questions. “Is that a direct translation of your name, or did you just pick a random English word?”
Hazel had been looking down at his chicken fettuccine with the same fascination that he inspected the pat of butter with. He glanced up at Zanie as he picked up his fork. “It is not a direct translation, but it is close. We do not have Hazelnuts where I come from, but my name is the same as a type of nut from our world.”
He poked the fork through one of his broad noodles and held it up over his plate. “Is this what you were calling a noodle?”
Caleb burst into laughter, holding his hand over his mouth as he struggled to finish his bite of burger – black bean because apparently, they were out of beef, which had to be tragic for a sports bar restaurant like this. He shook his head, a big smile on his face. “Sorry, it’s just the way you said noodle.”
“Don’t make fun of him,” Zanie scolded, then to Hazel, “Yes, that’s a noodle.”
“How have you not come across noodles when you have been here for at least…what two weeks now?” Caleb asked.
“I have not had the opportunity,” Hazel said simply, seemingly unphased by Caleb’s laughter. He was just curious. “So you turn flour, like what is used for bread, into these long strips of dough, then boil them?”
He was repeating Zanie’s earlier explanation, looking for confirmation. She nodded. “Give it a try.”
He lifted the noodle high into the air and then lowered it into his mouth. Even Zanie had a bit of laughter in her eyes as she watched him do this. He chewed and nodded a few times.
“This is very delicious,” Hazel approved. “I like the sauce.”
“Let me show you a better way to eat it.” Zanie grabbed her own fork and shoved aside some of her wings so she could put the tongs against her plate. She demonstrated how to twirl the noodles into a bite while explaining the process to Hazel. Jeremy shook his head and picked up one of his own wings, dipping it into the blue cheese and hot sauce before taking a bite.
Apparently, the supply of chicken was not as disrupted as that of beef since much of it came from states along the coast, while much of the beef came from further west. But people were still staying home from work more than they were returning to their jobs, so the supply was merely a trickle. And there were still unfortunate roadblocks like the hundreds of stopped cars along the highways, which nobody had done anything about yet, as well as monster attacks that occurred pretty constantly now.
Jeremy tuned out Zanie’s explanation and turned his attention back to the news as he munched on his wing. The reporter was standing in front of yet another group of protestors, interviewing one about their cause. Apparently, nothing had changed much. They were upset that the government was focusing on the disaster zones so much when many of the gates were seemingly dormant instead of putting resources towards relocating refugees from those disaster zones or trying to clean up the mess that had been created on the roads and such during the first few days after magic was reintroduced.
Interestingly, the thread of upset over the fact that the government was still recommending people not mess around with magic had grown stronger. The protestor being interviewed was adamant about the fact that this was simply encouraging the spread of misinformation and making people vulnerable to monster attacks. They looked straight into the camera and told the people watching at home that if the government could figure out magic and learn to work the gates, there would be no need for nuclear strikes and disaster zones. Jeremy lifted his eyebrows and nodded along.
Then, his attention was drawn back to the table because Hazel was currently feeding Atticus pieces of chicken from his plate while she spread across the edge of the table and meowed for more.
“Hang on,” Hazel told her gently as he poked around in his noodles for another piece.
“There you go.” He held it out to her, and she meowed again. “You’re welcome.”
Zanie had stopped chewing, a wing poised in front of her mouth as she watched the interaction. Caleb’s jaw dropped, and he blinked at the elf with wide eyes.
“I was wondering why Atticus showed up back up with you.” He spoke in an accusing—not mean, more disbelieving—tone. “You can talk to cats? Can you talk to all animals?”
Hazel’s brows drew together in confusion. “Of course. Can you not?”
“Um, no.”
“I’ve always wondered what animals would say to us if they could!” Zanie leaned forward. “Is this also because of the translation spell? What do you guys talk about?”
The furrow between Hazel’s brows deepened as he became further confused. “Well, I cannot understand what she is saying, of course.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Of course?” Caleb repeated faintly. He and Zanie exchanged a look while Jeremy sucked the last bit off sauce off his wing, fighting an amused smile because he already understood the misunderstanding. It seemed this elf took things rather literally at times.
“My gift is not communing with beasts,” Hazel explained as if this were the most plainly understandable thing in the world. “But that does not mean I cannot talk to them, and they cannot understand me.”
He turned to Atticus and said with a deadly serious expression. “Hello. You have a lovely black coat.”
Atticus stared up at him and remained still, aside from a small flick of the tip of her tail.
“See,” the elf said, “I can speak to her, and she may even understand me. I suspect that she does.”
Caleb smacked a hand over his face while slow realization dawned over Zanie’s face.
“I get it,” she said, “You can talk at them, but not with them. Jesus.”
“I apologize for the misunderstanding,” the elf said. He fiddled with something around his neck, then pulled a cord with a small crystal on it from beneath his shirt. “Is this a nuance of your language?”
“I’m so disappointed,” she bemoaned, “I thought it was because of the spell and that I would be able to talk to animals.”
“Well, I’m certain there is such a spell,” Hazel assured her. “I have simply never learned it.”
Jeremy was beginning to wonder exactly what type of magic Hazel actually did.