Chapter 44
Angie
“Weren't you waiting for something?” Leo asked, as the girl he'd just met dragged him away from school. “And who are you? My name's Leo, by the way.”
“My sister isn't answering her texts. Bitch can get her own lunch. Screw her. My name's Angie. Make fun of my name and I'll kick your ass. Come on. I know a place.” She dragged him over to her bike and hopped on. Leo got on the back. She stood on the pedals and, with a squeal of a chain and wheels in need of oiling, her bike surged forward.
She bicycled them to a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant. A large man in a white apron at the front counter nodded at them when they entered.
“I don't have any money,” Leo said, “and are you sure they won't kick us out on a school day?”
“Don't worry, I know the guy. Friend of the family.” She dragged him to an out of the way corner of the restaurant. She mouthed, “How did you know?”
“I had a vision of the future when I...” Leo pointed to his left wrist. “Most of what I saw was terrifying, but I learned a few things.”
“Can I take your order?” It was the white-aproned man.
“The usual,” Angie said, then turned to Leo. “You?”
Leo shrugged, and figured the hell with it. “Egg and pancake breakfast with a salad and coffee.”
The waiter looked at him strangely and laughed. “A health conscious individual. Good for you. So Angie, is this your new boyfriend?”
Angie made a face. “Boundaries, Howie. I barely know this kid.”
Howie's eyes moved from Leo back to Angie. “Hey, wanted you to know that what happened sucked.”
Angie's hand clenched the table so tightly Leo could almost hear the table cracking from the pressure. “Don't want to talk about it.”
“Easy there,” Howie responded, “just wanted you to know, I'm here if you need anything.”
Angie glared at the table until Howie walked away. Then she turned back to Leo. “Talk.”
Leo started at the beginning and told her about October 16th and the eventual demise of the human race. Howie brought them coffee and food. Her usual, it seemed, was coffee and cheesy fries. She and Leo ate while Leo talked.
Stolen novel; please report.
“During that time, I met a few people who were...” Leo made a cutting motion to his left forearm. “That's how I knew about, you know what. Also, your,” he pointed at her arm, “will grow back, assuming you live long enough.”
“Not sure I believe you, but if you're right about this apocalypse thing, I know a few people I'll enjoy killing when it happens.”
“Yeah,” Leo said, not sure how to respond to that. “I'm more concerned with the ones who are too strong to kill.”
“Oh. Question.” She reached for his pack and pulled out a pencil and piece of notebook paper, and started writing:
Subject: Angie
Sex: Female
Strength: 14.8
Vitality: 15.2
Agility: 13.3
Intelligence: 6.2
Charisma: 6.1
Common Sense: 5.3
She circled the top three stats, mouthed “grayed out?” and made a questioning gesture.
“Oh,” Leo said, understanding the question. “That's easy. They're grayed out because their functional value is 10, which is the most an ordinary human can get. Anything over 10 is superhuman. But on October 16th the change will make those grayed-out stats real.”
Angie grinned. “Neat.”
“Nice stat's, by the way,” Leo said.
“Earned em,” she responded. “Was coming in first place in the citywide MMA tournament before I was disqualified because of...” She pointed at where her wrist used to be.
“Maybe you can help me,” Leo said. “I've been working to raise my stats, but it's been slow going. You obviously know what you're doing.”
She looked him over for a minute. “If that kid, Brick, is hassling you, I'll talk to the guy and you can forget him. But stats are serious business and the only one who can raise your stats is you. If you're willing to put in the work and I mean serious, brutal training, then I could get you in shape in six months. A year at the most.”
“I need it in three weeks,” Leo said.
She shook her head. “Impossible. I'm not magic.”
“I need it!” he said. The apron guy looked at them, concerned, but left them alone.
“I know a shortcut, which I don't recommend. A guy—one of—us,” she pointed to Leo's left wrist. She wrote on a piece of paper. “Go here and ask for Mr. Al. He's scary, but he gets results. Do not tell him I sent you. He hates me.”
Leo pocketed the address. “Thanks. Is he safe?”
Angie laughed. “Hell no.” She opened her pack and pulled out a paper bag. “I made a fried barbecue tofu sandwich for my sister's lunch. You want?”
“Sure,” said Leo, taking the bag. “Your sister likes tofu?”
“She hates it. That's why I made it for her.” Angie stood up. “I got to go talk to the prosthetic people again. Keep saying I don't have the right insurance for a prosthetic arm.”
“Sorry.”
She turned the page with her stats over and wrote something down. “Here's my number. Call if you need anything or if you want to work out and train. Lates.”
“Thanks.” Leo watched her leave the cafe, jump on her bike, and ride off. “Wait. I don't get a ride back?”
He sighed. Apparently not. He took out the address she gave him.