Klarth scraped a claw against the sheet metal in a circular pattern, her teeth bared in a parody of a smile. Screeches echoed through the otherwise silent streets as she finished the picture and stood back, satisfied.
Klarth was pleased. This was looking to be a good inclusion. Certainly the best start of the twelve she had so far experienced over her life.
She had the luck to be dropped into the middle of one of the largest human cities in the world, a veritable feast of Numbers at her claw-tips. And this world! A wonderful climate inhabited by billions of sapient conquerors. So many places and cultures to experience. And the languages! So melodic and flowing, much more pleasant than the simple growls and grunts of so many of the other Numbered creatures.
Her throat was unfortunately incapable of making the noises required to mimic human language, but Klarth had the skill to bypass that. Without opening her mouth, sounds emanated as if from nowhere, at first just the quiet thrum of violins, but then after a few seconds accompanied by words.
“Worlds to explore,
Always searching for more,
But Klarth has not yet fed.
Young is the hour,
To gain my power,
I can rest when they are all dead.”
Klarth exhaled, looked around at the surrounding empty streets, and then pushed herself up to her four clawed feet. It was time to leave the city.
- Klarth, Inclusion +25 days 09:52 hours
We wake with the dawn, our bags already packed, and with only a few glances back descend the stairs, leaving the apartment for the last time. Ms. Kathy looks to be on the edge of a panic attack, but Melete stays by her side and holds her hand as they walk. The twins, on the other hand, are extremely excited to finally get out of the apartment after a month of staying indoors, but they pick up on our seriousness and manage to stay quiet.
We haven’t explicitly revealed Sam’s presence to the twins and Ms. Kathy, but we’ve given enough clues about Sam’s existence that Ms. Kathy at least must suspect the presence of our alien friend. The twins, though, just know that if we encounter any monsters they are to freeze in place and stand perfectly still. Only if told to run by one of the ‘adults’ are they allowed to move.
Sam follows our group, invisible to our three new members but easily seen by the rest of us. We’ve emphasized to it that the absolute priority with its illusions is to be the twins, then Ms. Kathy, and then finally the rest of us. Fortunately, the Alatir culture apparently also places a high value on the safety of their weak and young members, so Sam agrees to our request without issue.
The feeling of being stalked follows us as we navigate through the streets, but eventually begins to fade as we push further and further away from the city proper and into the suburbs. And once we reach the edge of those, walking along the highway with only trees on either side of the road, the feeling finally fades entirely.
Though we’re still careful, our departure from Clayton leaves us in high spirits, and we finally loosen the restrictions on absolute silence, the twins immediately bursting into conversation, though thankfully still at a low volume.
If it was just our original group, I would be confident we could make it to Bothell in four days, barring any injuries, side quests, or other delays. But with Ms. Kathy and the twins slowing us down, I’ll be happy if we can get there within a week.
Surprisingly, the twins have less trouble keeping up than I had expected, and the biggest limit to our speed is Ms. Kathy. After only thirty minutes on the open road she’s apologizing and asking for a break, dripping sweat and heaving for breath.
I guess I should have expected this. Ms. Kathy and the twins obviously haven’t had any chance to improve their Numbers beyond the original one hundred, at least not aside from the small gains in daily life and the five baby bunnies. And while the twins’ low Numbers are mitigated somewhat by the fact that their original Numbers weren’t too much higher than the Numbers they have now, Ms. Kathy’s Numbers haven’t been this low for at least fifty years.
And while I never noticed while we were still in the apartment due to her long-sleeved sweaters and jeans, now that she’s wearing only a t-shirt I can see how skinny, almost gaunt, Ms. Kathy looks. I would guess that for the last few weeks she’s been practically starving herself to ensure the food for the kids lasted as long as possible.
Melete is extremely gentle with the aged woman, walking arm-in-arm with her for the first few miles and encouraging her to rest just a little longer and eat a few more snacks during each break, glaring at the rest of us as if daring us to try and rush her.
Not that we would. As impatient as I am with our slow pace, my parents raised me well enough that I’m not going to get angry at a woman almost my grandparents’ age for being slow.
In the meantime, the twins attach themselves to Pallas, spending the majority of the walk by his side, chattering non-stop about games of pretend or their favorite stories or whatever else catches their fancy. I imagine they’ll get tired of hiking eventually, but at least for now they’re full of energy, excited to be outside after a month cooped up in their small apartment.
For his part, Pallas bears with the twins’ antics with remarkable gentleness. Of course, I wouldn’t expect him to not be gentle, but he never appears even the slightest bit bothered by their constant yammering, his quiet voice only occasionally interrupting their stories to ask clarifying questions, his large hands opening to hold theirs when they reach up next to him. I’ve seen him use up almost a normal week’s worth of smiles in the last hour alone.
Of course, the twins don’t stay with him the whole morning. They are endlessly amazed by our ‘super powers,’ as they describe them, and for some reason hearing my voice in their heads provides an endless source of entertainment, only allowing me to rest after Pallas notices the haggard look on my face and somehow distracts them with a few words. As they run off to perform his requested made-up task, I send him a grateful nod.
Funnily enough, Styx is the most ill at ease around the two kids. The first time Hyper runs up to her and earnestly asks what her favorite color is, she freezes up completely, her eyes wide in panic as she looks to me for help.
I struggle to hide my laughter at her plight. Somehow, this curious little eight-year-old gets a bigger reaction from her than the abomination of a monster we encountered two days ago. Styx’s pleading eyes turn to a glare as she sees me laughing, which only makes me laugh harder as she fumbles to form a coherent response.
“Um...I have a lot of different colors that...I think it depends on what the color is attached to, I guess…”
Pallas is finally distracted from his conversation with Phoebe by my now audible snorts, and he takes pity on Styx. “Hyper, why don’t you tell her what your favorite color is?”
“It’s green!” Hyper immediately says, his focus still on the uncomfortable girl in front of him. “But I like pink the best if it’s flavors, cause green has all the worst flavors. It’s just apple and sour apple, but pink is strawberry or cherry, which are always really good...”
Styx still looks uncomfortable, but she’s finally able to school her features into something that isn’t absolute terror now that she knows she doesn’t have to speak to keep the conversation going. And a minute later, Hyper runs off to join his sister and Pallas to snack on a small bag of peanuts, counting out each individual nut and showing off their math skills to make sure they all get the exact same amount.
“Thanks for that,” Styx grumbles as she takes a seat next to where I’m keeping watch at the edge of the road. I hold out my own small plastic bag of salted peanuts as a peace offering, and she scoops up over half of them in a single large handful, tossing them into her mouth one at a time.
“You were doing so well! I couldn’t interrupt,” I say as my giggles finally subside. “What happened anyway? I know young kids can be terrifying, but these two don’t seem that evil.”
“I don’t know how to interact with kids!” she exclaims, throwing her hand that isn’t cupping the peanuts into the air. “I don’t have any younger siblings, and it’s not like I interact with kids any time in my daily life.” She glances to where Pallas is happily helping the twins with their math, and sighs. “How is he so good at it anyway?”
I stifle another chuckle, and shrug. “Just treat them like people. Cause that’s all they are -- slightly short, a bit excitable, and usually immature, but they’re still people.”
Styx snorts. “Sounds like you’re describing Melete.”
“Now you’re getting it!” I say as I snap my fingers and point at her as we both laugh.
A beat of comfortable silence passes before I ask. “No younger siblings...does that mean there are older ones?”
Her smile dims slightly, but doesn’t disappear completely as she continues to munch on the peanuts while answering. “Yeah, I’ve got one older sister. Three years older, she’s in college on the east coast right now. We’ve always been really close, and talked on the phone at least once a week, every week, since she left. I was hoping to go to the same school after I graduate, and we were going to rent a house together.”
Silence follows, and I wince. Only moments ago we were laughing and smiling, and I just had to bring up a loved sister she may never see again…
But before I can continue to berate myself, Styx asks, “How did you survive as an only sibling anyways? I’ve always wondered that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like...what did you do all day, growing up?” she says. “Ever since my sister left home, it’s been soooo boring all the time. What do you do with all your time, if you don’t have any siblings to talk and play with?”
“Friends are a thing that exist, you know,” I respond wryly, although I don’t mention that they weren’t exactly common in my life after transferring to CNA. “And I’d play board games with my parents all the time after they got home from work. That was kinda our thing, especially word games. My dad was never as competitive as my mom or I, but he always joined in.”
Styx looks at me hesitantly, and then seems to gain her courage before finally asking, “...can you tell me about them?”
And so I do.
In some ways it’s painful, recounting all of their quirks and passions, knowing that they’re gone, and the stories I share are all that Styx will ever see of them.
But in another way...it’s a relief. Styx laughs along with me when I recount the tale of my dad trying to take care of the laundry on Mother’s Day, only to use the wrong soap and make a complete mess of the washer that my mom eventually helped clean up. This leads to stories of her own parents, and of the constant walks they would take with their three giant rescue dogs, Larry, Curly, and Mo.
And so we continue for twenty minutes until even Ms. Kathy is impatient to get back on the road, sharing our lives with each other. And at the end, when we stand and pick up our bags of supplies to continue our journey, despite feeling emotionally drained, my steps forward are the lightest they’ve been since reaching Clayton.
The past is the past. It’s time to move forward.
----------------------------------------
As we follow the road from Clayton, we pass the occasional dead car. While Melete and Pallas wait with Ms. Kathy and the twins a few yards away, Styx and I check each one, hoping to spare them from a repeat of our first experience with a dead car and the death contained within. Luckily our caution is unneeded, and each car is empty of any human remains. Unluckily, none of them contain anything useful either. All of them are unlocked or already have smashed windows, but I don’t see any signs of keys, and none of them have any useful supplies stored within. My guess is that they’ve already been raided by other people fleeing Clayton to Bothell along this same road.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Mid-afternoon we come to a different type of obstacle: a fallen tree that’s lying across the road. I find it strange that there aren’t any cars left next to the tree, or tracks in the dirt on the side of the road where they might have driven around, but I easily dismiss any worries. While it may be a difficult obstacle for those with cars, it’ll barely slow us down as we simply climb over the trunk.
It’s after Styx and I have already passed, with Melete, Pallas, and the rest still on the other side that we hear the distinct chick-chuck of a shotgun being cocked.
“Freeze! Get your hands in the air!” a man yells from the trees on the side of the road.
I lift my hands over my head and slowly turn to face the voice.
Four men stand in the shade of the trees, each rougher looking than the last. Only one holds a gun pointed in our direction, but two of the others sport wicked looking knives, while the last is bare-handed. The one with the gun has a long scraggly beard, while the three others have rough stubble, evidence of an extended amount of time without access to a razor and mirror. Each looks around forty years old, much older than any of us but Ms. Kathy, yet they don’t have the confidence I normally expect to see from ‘adults.’
Despite them holding the weapons and us standing still and silent with our hands in the air, the man with the gun looks like even the slightest movement could set him off, and the two with the knives are half-turned as if preparing to run. Only the unarmed man appears confident in his actions, his eyes hard and his mouth turned upwards in a slight grin.
“You with the axe! Put it on the ground, slowly, and then kick it away!” the unarmed man yells out, his voice the one that originally yelled at us to stop.
Pallas lifts his axe from his belt loop and sets it on the ground, careful to keep his other hand open and in the air. As he pushes the axe away with his foot, he shifts his body forward to stand between the man with the gun and the twins.
“I’m sorry, we didn’t know this…” I start to try to placate the men, but I’m immediately cut off.
“I wasn’t TALKING to YOU!” the unarmed man snarls. “But now that you have my attention, drop all of your weapons too! Knives, everything!”
I slowly lift my fire poker and knife from my belt and let them fall to the ground, Melete and Styx doing the same with their own weapons. As we do, the unarmed man approaches from the treeline, in just a few seconds closing the distance to twenty feet away. The twins step back, hiding behind Ms. Kathy, who herself is shivering in place but still standing tall.
The twins movement catches the attention of one of the men with a knife, who speaks up for the first time, his voice surprisingly high and soft. “Mike, I don’t know about this, those are just kids.”
But Mike, the presumed unarmed leader, doesn’t respond. Now that he’s closed the distance, a look of intense concentration is on his face, and I reflexively take a small step backwards.
Well, I try to take a step back. My foot shifts less than a millimeter before it encounters an unyielding resistance. I have a moment of confusion as I start to fall before the rest of my body is frozen in place as well. I try to shift the other direction, only to realize that I’m completely locked in place, my jaw not even able to open as I release a grunt of surprise.
“Haha! Good luck getting out of THAT!” the unarmed man exclaims in triumph, before turning and yelling over his shoulder. “Get on up here guys!”
I struggle against the bindings, but they don’t have any give whatsoever despite there being no visual evidence of anything holding me in place. From the corners of my eyes I can see my companions also frozen with looks of anger and surprise, Pallas’ muscles straining against the invisible force. But it’s no use -- it’s as if we’ve all been encased within invisible blocks of concrete, only the slightest movements allowed to us.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Mike,” the high-pitched voice says again, and this time Mike hears and responds.
“What, you gonna wimp out on us again? More for the rest of us, so it’s fine, but your balls are never gonna drop at this rate.”
The man looks like he wants to complain again, but the man with the gun jumps in first. “I’m with Tony, Mike. They’ve got kids. I’m not killing kids, no matter how many Numbers they’ve got.”
For a moment, Mike’s face screws up in such a twisted grimace of anger I would have stepped back had I the ability to move, but just as quickly he calms. “Fine! We leave the kids alive, they can help out around camp. But you get last pick cause of that Avery...Justin, you’re up first! Who do you want?”
I struggle to contain my shock. These people...they’re just going to kill us? For no reason, aside from maybe our Numbers and supplies?
My shock lasts for less than a second before it morphs into determined focus, my mind running a mile a minute.
In a moment, I’ve extended bonds to everyone in our group, save Ms. Kathy and the twins. To Melete and Pallas I send simple messages of wait and protect before dismissing the bonds just as quickly.
Sam has somehow avoided the notice of our attackers, and is hidden in plain sight, only slightly behind Ms. Kathy, assumingly invisible to the four men’s vision. I tell Sam to hide everyone on that side of the tree from sight, and if it can to make distractions to focus on the gun-wielding assailant. But above all, I emphasize protecting what I’ve come to think of as the ‘civilians’ of Ms. Kathy and the twins, making sure they’re hidden by illusions before anything else.
I hear Sam’s confirming affirmation, but I’ve already turned my focus to Styx. I’m not sure of the exact dimensions of the aura of her skill, but I doubt it’s able to reach our friends on the other side of the tree. After freeing me and herself, she’ll need to make her way close to them as quickly as possible, although she should prioritize her own safety -- Sam should be able to keep them safe until we get there.
It seems Justin has made his choice, as he and the leader ‘Mike’ climb over the tree to stand in front of me, the knife held ready in Justin’s hands.
“I’ll release on three,” Mike says, “make sure you time the stab right. We don’t want to break another blade.”
Justin hesitantly nods as I prepare myself.
We’re about to engage these people in combat, potentially to the death. They aren’t monsters, they aren’t weird sapient aliens -- these are actual humans we’re going to fight, and I need to be ready. Part of me rebels, refuses the concept of fighting fellows of my own species. We’re on the same side! But I refuse to allow that part of me control. They attacked us, and I won’t hesitate.
“One…” Mike says.
At the exact same time, I yell though my bond, NOW!
Styx bursts into movement, and I follow only a split second later.
Justin wasn’t ready for my sudden freedom, but he’s still holding a knife in the ready position in front of his body. I crouch and swing my leg, sweeping his legs out from beneath him, and in the same movement reach to pick up my own knife.
But the knife isn’t exactly where I thought it had fallen, and a precious second is wasted fumbling in the grass and dirt before I finally find the handle.
Unfortunately, this gives Justin enough time to roll away, and he’s already halfway back to his feet, his knife still in his hands. I chase before he has time to prepare himself, grabbing the wrist that’s holding the knife with my left hand, while my right slashes against his chest.
From the corner of my eyes, I can see the leader of their group step forward to cut Styx off in her mad dash to free our companions, both of them unarmed, but I don’t have the focus to pay closer attention to her battle, much less to help her out.
Justin manages to jump backwards at the exact moment I slash, my knife only cutting a small rip into his jacket, and he releases an animalistic growl as I follow him back, my hand still clamped around his wrist, refusing to let him use his weapon. He twists his hand, struggling to get free or cut my wrist with the flailing knife.
I can feel the moment I’m out of range of Styx’s aura, and immediately activate my modification skill. My previously fleshy fingers lock into place. His wrist, which only a moment before was so close to escaping my grip, is once again solidly under my control. I also firm the skin of my forearm, ensuring any glancing blows from his knife to that area are useless.
I stab my knife forward, but despite my earlier conviction I hesitate before burying it into his stomach. I apply enough pressure for him to feel the point against his skin, but no more.
“Drop it,” I say, voice angry.
He obeys immediately, his knife bouncing against the ground with a clang.
Now what do I do? Can I just let him go? What if he has another knife on him? But before I can come to a conclusion a bang interrupts my thoughts, and with a pang of fear I turn to the source of the noise.
On the other side of the tree, Pallas stands in front of the man with the shotgun, his hand lifting the barrel to the sky. As I watch, he swings out with his other hand in a massive punch, dropping the man to the ground and taking complete control of the gun, the other man with a knife dropping his weapon and lifting his shaking hands into the air where he stands a few yards away.
On this side of the tree, their leader is lying with his back on the ground as Styx stands over him, her hand on his forehead and an intense look of concentration on her face. The man, on the other hand, is frozen in place, too terrified to even move.
And just like that, we’ve won.
Melete escorts Ms. Kathy and the twins away from the site of conflict, the twins adorable in their earnest obedience to her instructions, fingers stuck in each ear in case Melete is forced to use her skill.
Pallas uses his new gun to herd the four men together, each of them sitting with their hands on their heads under a tree while I gather their dropped knives and do a quick pat-down for any additional weapons, redistributing their blades between Styx, Pallas, and I.
“What...are you people?” the man with the high-pitched voice asks, the terror clear in his voice.
I’m not sure what illusions Sam might have shown them, but it clearly left an effect -- the two men on the other side of the tree don’t stop trembling, even as the minutes pass without any further threats from our group.
The leader, however, has lost the look of terror he had while Styx stood over him.
“You better watch yourself! You don’t know who you’re messing with -- I can never be disarmed completely!” he threatens.
Styx pulls me a small distance from where they sit before whispering in my ear. “We need to do something about him. He was the one who imprisoned us, and he was also able to use his skill to make armor as well, at least before I took his skill away.”
I look at her incredulously. “Took his skill away? You can do that??”
She shrugs, looking exhausted but pleased with herself. “Apparently. Kinda just followed my instincts there, but it worked. I have to be touching him to do it, and he’ll only stay suppressed for a little while. And I’m not sure how often I’ll be able to do it.”
I’m still impressed -- I can understand why he was so terrified of Styx, now. Even with those restrictions, that’s crazy powerful. “Exactly how long is a ‘little while,’” I ask.
Styx shrugs again. “Less than an hour. More than five minutes. Other than that…” she glances over to where the man is still yelling threats at Pallas, who stands impassively over them with his new gun, “unless we get out of here ASAP, we’re about to find out.”
I wrack my mind for a solution, hoping to find a path that keeps us safe but is less permanent and drastic than death for the threat the man presents.
But I can’t think of anything. Desperate, I explain the situation through new bonds to Pallas and Melete, hopeful that they might have ideas.
Neither of them have an answer.
I continue to think, staring at where the man raves with increasing confidence, his hands still on his head. Spittle flies from his mouth as he continues to threaten, but Pallas ignores the flying flecks that land on his shoes as he stares impassively down at the angry man.
“I’ll be coming for you!” the man yells. “There’s nowhere you’ll be able to run that’ll be able to escape me. I’ll kill you, take your Numbers, and take your skills too! And you won’t even see me coming next time!! Well, not all of you...I might take my time with those stupid kids you’ve--”
The man’s voice suddenly cuts off, Pallas’ knife buried to the hilt in his neck.
“What the…” I mutter under my breath, frozen in surprise.
Pallas stands back up straight and wipes his right hand off on his shirt before returning his grip to the gun, knife left buried in the throat of the gurgling man. “Problem taken care of,” he says, too quietly for anyone to hear but himself. But I’m still bonded with him, and I hear his words without issue.
“I guess it is,” I mumble, and in a rush begin to move, issuing instructions to Melete as Styx stares with wide eyes at Pallas, standing still and tall.
Luckily, Melete seems content with my rushed explanation of events and proceeds to lead the twins and Ms. Kathy away around the far side of the tree, far away from the lead bandit’s grisly remains. The twins, with their ears diligently plugged against the possibility of Melete’s skill, couldn’t hear the man’s screamed threats, but I can see a small lingering concern in Ms. Kathy’s craning of her neck to investigate the sudden silence. But Melete leads her away before she has a chance to discover the truth.
I grab the last of my dropped supplies, standing straight, and look to the remaining three shaking men sitting completely silent with their hands on their heads. For a moment, I consider giving an intimidating speech to further cow them into submission and hopefully prevent any foolish ideas, but discard it just as quickly. Even if my charisma Number were high enough for it to be effective, I don’t think anything I can say would be able to hammer home the threat greater than Pallas’ actions.
With silent communication to Pallas and a head jerk to Styx, we step over the trunk of the tree to join the rest of our party on the other side, and continue our journey.
S: 153
D: 144
W: 390
I: 365 (+3)
C: 100
5 (+5)
Skills: Adjust:Self, Bond:Mental