Zach remained motionless, letting the boy’s anger hang in the air. He didn’t try to defend himself, didn’t even flinch as Markinson’s red-rimmed eyes bore into him.
The elderly woman placed a hand on Markinson arm and gently tugged him away.
He let her lead him, where the man sat, his expression unreadable. Zach broke the silence with a dry remark.
“My name’s Zach, by the way.”
The man blinked, his brow furrowing. “You’re introducing yourself now? That kid looks like he wants to murder you, and you’re worried about pleasantries?”
Zach shrugged, folding his arms. “What do you want me to do? What can I say that’ll make it better? Nothing. It doesn’t matter—he wouldn’t understand. He’s too young. Maybe when he’s older, he’ll get it."
The man tilted his head, studying Zach. “And being ‘right’ means you can’t be a little more... empathetic? Instead of just ignoring him?”
Zach hesitated, then nodded slightly.
He glanced around, changing the subject. “Thanks, by the way. If you hadn’t let us in, those things outside would’ve caught us.”
The man's face softened. He leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his knees. “Of course. How can anyone ignore their fellow man?”
Zach met his gaze and gave a faint nod. “The others in the village didn’t seem to agree.”
“Fear,” The man said simply. “There’s always the chance that one day the Groundskeepers—those creatures—will adapt. Appear convincing. They worry about letting the wrong person in.”
Zach rubbed the back of his neck, the logic grim but sensible. “Makes sense.”
The man extended a hand. “Veru, by the way. Let me grab some bandages for that cut of yours.”
“Thanks,” Zach replied, watching as Veru disappeared into another room.
Markinson sat across the room, glowering. The boy’s gaze was sharp, almost feral, and if looks could kill, Zach figured he wouldn’t have lasted a heartbeat. He didn’t flinch under the boy’s glare. If anything, he found himself irritated by it. He didn’t regret what he had done, and he didn’t plan on apologizing for lying. If he didn't, the boy would have stayed with his parent's corpse.
He shifted his focus to the gash on his arm, the dull ache a constant reminder of the earlier fight.
he traced the edges of the wound with his fingers, his thoughts drifted to the bandits. They had been weak, and sloppy. Were they just inexperienced, or had he underestimated himself? It was strange to think that he might have some natural advantage. He was supposed to have the scientist class, not a fighter one.
He sighed. It didn’t matter. What mattered was survival. He wasn’t even sure what his next move would be. Should he try to find a way home? The thought felt distant, almost absurd. He was lost in a world he didn’t understand, with no leads and no clue why he was here. Building a life here seemed more realistic—at least for now. He would need to gather information and figure out what had brought him here. Things like this didn’t happen randomly.
Veru returned, holding a small kit. He pulled out a strip of green cotton and dabbed it against Zach’s wound. The sting was immediate and intense, like someone pouring liquid fire onto his skin. Zach winced but didn’t pull away.
“Antibacterial,” Veru said. “Burns a bit, but it’ll keep the infection away.”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Feels like rubbing alcohol,” Zach muttered through gritted teeth.
"No idea what's that, but sounds interesting." Veru began stitching the cut. The process was slow and painful, each pull of the thread sending sharp jolts through Zach’s arm. Veru worked methodically, his focus unwavering. Occasionally, he glanced at Zach’s face, checking for signs that the pain might be too much.
“You’ve handled worse, haven’t you?” Veru asked, breaking the silence.
Zach gritted his teeth but managed a strained chuckle. “Not really. I’m more used to paper cuts than stitches.”
Veru smirked faintly. “Then you’re doing better than most. I’ve seen grown men scream bloody murder over less.”
Zach’s lips twitched into a weak smile. “Glad to hear I’m exceeding expectations.”
Veru tied the final knot and stepped back, examining his work. “That’ll hold. Just try not to get into another fight for a while.”
“I’ll do my best,” Zach muttered. The exhaustion in his voice was unmistakable. By the time Veru cleaned up, Zach’s eyes had already begun to close.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, barely audible, before sleep claimed him.
---
The next morning, Zach woke to the sound of quiet movement in the house. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in hours.
He forced himself up, wincing at the sharp pain that lanced through his entire body. As he moved into the room with the most sound.
“Ah, you’re up,” Veru said. “Come on, sit. Leira insisted we save you a plate.”
Zach hesitated, caught off guard. “That’s... kind of you.”
Leira, bustling by the fire, gave him a warm smile. “You’ll need your strength. Eat.”
Zach nodded, grateful but trying not to show it too much. He eased into a chair and picked up the plate they offered.
“Good morning,” Leira replied with a small smile. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”
Zach nodded his thanks and dug in. The food was fresh, the fish slightly smoky, and the vegetables crisp. As he ate, he looked up at Veru. “Do you know where I can find work around here?”
“What kind of work?” Veru asked, his tone cautious.
“Pharmaceutical,” Zach said.
*I’m not looking to join some adventurer’s guild or fight monsters for a living.*
Veru leaned back, considering. “Hm... You must be a big deal."
"I wouldn't say that."
"Sure... You have secrets. But that's okay. You can get work in The Third City. It's the closest.”
“The Third City?” Zach asked, confused. “That’s... just the name?”
“Yeah,” Veru replied. “It’s the third city built after the war wiped out everything. Big place. If there’s work for someone with your skills, it’ll be there.”
Leira raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t remember anything, do you?”
Zach shook his head. “Not much.”
“Mmm,” Veru said. “Your clothes look very strange too. You’re definitely not from around here.”
Zach took a look at their outfits.
Since it was no longer dark, it was easier to see the outfits they wore. The long, flowing shirts reminded Zach of something he’d seen in historical documentaries, their design closest to desert robes, though paired with slim-fitted pants.
“Do you have a map?” Zach asked.
Veru nodded and fetched one. He spread it out on the table, pointing to the Third City. “The Third City neighbors many villages and towns. It’s a hub for trade and travel,” he explained, tapping the map for emphasis. “Two days’ walk. Or, if you don’t like camping out with Groundskeepers around, there’s a carriage stop about four hours from here.”
Zach shuddered at the thought of camping. “Carriage it is. Thanks.”
Veru marked the carriage stop on the map.
He finished his meal and went to check on Markinson. The boy was awake, sitting stiffly on the edge of the floor.
“Hey,” Zach said, keeping his voice low, “how did you sleep?”
Markinson didn’t look up, his silence sharp and unwavering.
“You must be starving,” Zach continued, leaning forward slightly. “There’s food, you know. I can bring you some if you’re hungry.”
The boy’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.
“I’m just trying to help, kid,” he murmured, the frustration edging into his voice. The boy remained mute, refusing to acknowledge his attempts.
Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere, Zach decided to cut to the chase. “Do you have family somewhere else? Aunts? Uncles?”
Markinson didn’t reply. He stared at the floor, his expression unchanged.
Frustrated, Zach returned to Veru and Leira. “Is there foster care for abandoned kids in that city?”
Leira’s answered, “There is, but the treatment isn’t good. Abuse is common.”
Veru placed a hand on Leira’s shoulder, a silent reassurance. “We’ll take him,” he said. “We can bring him to his family, if he has any.”
Zach hesitated, uneasy about leaving the boy with strangers. But Markinson hated him, and didn't trust him. What choice did he have?
“Fine,” he said finally. “Thank you—for everything.”
As he stepped outside, he was surprised to see guards at the village gate. Apparently, his presence hadn’t gone unnoticed. They waved him through without issue.
As he walked, his thoughts drifted to home. Were his friends and family back on Earth worried? Maybe they thought he’d been kidnapped. If only they knew the truth.
If only.