After considering his options, Derrick eventually decided on the easiest and safest method available to him. Before the monsters came, Derrick’s neighborhood had always consisted of a large collection of houses, most of which built within walking distance of each other. It would be a simple enough task to break into such a house, even if Derrick had to resort to something drastic, like hurling a rock through the window, and once there Derrick could recover and figure out his next move.
Of course, this plan would involve breaking into another person’s house, something that Derrick would never have even considered before all this started. If somebody had managed to stay alive for the four days since the change, it even might make sense if that person attacked Derrick for trespassing. It would be a perfectly reasonable response to Derrick’s actions.
But wasn’t that being a little optimistic?
Derrick glanced outside his window, in the direction that the occasional group of goblins or pack of wolves could be seen, unabashedly walking in numbers ranging from almost 20 to only 1. They walked separately or together, forming chaotic patterns with their steps, no formation or semblance of planning to be found within any of their movements. They wandered this way and that, pillaging, or eating, anything that could be found.
Derrick wondered how many people had lost their lives within the goblin’s haphazard search. It didn’t take many goblins, as Derrick could attest, to be a threat to a human. In fact, it only took a single goblin to match Derrick, even when he had trained beforehand. If anyone hadn’t put in as much effort? If they had underestimated the goblins, thinking that they were a trash mob? Those people had undoubtedly died. And that concerned only those who lucky enough to encounter a single goblin in the first place. What if they came in a group of five? Ten?
It had struck Derrick, that a very large amount of the people that had once lived here were dead. One moment, they had been his distant but friendly neighbors. Now, they only served goblin food.
This was the reason that he could think so callously about breaking into the houses of his deceased neighbors. If they had died, then they no longer needed them, and Derrick did, badly, if he wanted to survive. He shivered at a cold feeling that had nothing to do with the temperature.
On the other hand, if Derrick found anyone that remained alive . . . It would be good to talk about all of this, all of what had happened since everything started. It would be amazing to see someone alive again, after four days of constant stress, when the last time he had seen anyone alive resulted in that person being ripped apart.
Even if whoever Derrick found was angered that he broke into their house, Derrick felt sure that he could calm them down, get them to understand the situation. Desperate times called for desperate action, and Derrick could not recall ever being more desperate.
Of course, this was all a big if. It seemed entirely possible that Derrick would open the doors onto nobody, or explore the new house he claimed only to discover some gruesome scene of a massacre.
Derrick sighed. Thinking about what he could find within whatever semblance of shelter he would move onto would get him nowhere. Instead, he should be doing something productive, like packing what he would bring on such a journey. He did not have all the time in the world, after all. He did not know when the wolves would smell the death that lingered about his home, he did not even know that they would, but he would take no chances. Derrick had no disillusions about his ability to handle any of the wolves, especially if they appeared as a pack.
His first step would be to gather what he would need for water supplies. For Derrick, this composed as many bottles of water as he could get his hands on, all filled to the brim and collected from the nearby upstairs bathroom basin. The next consisted of gathering food, which proved a bit more difficult from the sheer variety of things that Derrick could pack away. Settling for simplicity, Derrick grabbed several things of jerky, one of his father’s favorite snacks, and a variety of fruits such like oranges and apples that didn’t need to be refrigerated, and wouldn’t go bad within the week.
Next, he moved on to whatever equipment he would need for the journey. Several of the sharpest knives that he could get his hands on went into the pile of things to be packed immediately, as did a small flashlight. Some other additions included a lighter and a small, plastic compass, as well as a jump rope for dexterity training.
After that, came all the things that Derrick wanted to pack, but did not truly need, of which there a large amount. Too large an amount, as Derrick’s bag, an old, weathered hiking backpack that his father had possessed from his college years, became overstuffed, the sheer amount of things that Derrick wished to pack within it ripping at the seams.
In the end, Derrick forced himself to leave many of the important tidbits that he had collected throughout his life behind, fearing that with all that he had packed he would be over encumbered and forced to slow him down, something that could spell his end in the presence of monsters.
So instead of everything that he wished, Derrick only packed away the stuff that he absolutely wanted, things more important than the other stuff that had plagued his backpack, or just more useful. His phone, in the vain hope that he would be able to find some way to charge it. Two changes of clothes, a bunch of socks and underwear. A picture of his family, preserved in a delicately small and well designed black frame.
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All told, when Derrick had finally packed everything that he wanted to, his rather large hiking backpack remained half empty. Rather than packing more, Derrick decided against using the space. Instead, he would be able to move faster with a lighter pack, which would be a large boon if Derrick was unfortunate enough to run into any monster on his way.
His packing done, Derrick fell out of the fugue of focus that the simple activity had brought and let himself deflate, a visible exhale drawing out a long sigh. Slowly, Derrick walked through the rooms that he had grown up in, feelings of a somber nostalgia, settling deep within him. He peered out a window on the second floor to see a gray canine shape settling back into the shade of the trees. He had to get going.
Back downstairs, Derrick collected some paper from inside one of the printers and secured a pen from the drawer. Slowly he began to write, making a note for his family. It began as a rambling paragraph about his first days here, then an explanation about the corpse of the goblin that still occupied the living room. He wrote down that he remained safe and told them where he intended on going. He pleaded with them to follow him if they came here. Lastly, he wrote down just he much he hoped that they had remained unharmed.
Derrick looked at the note and sighed.The past few days had really done a number on him. The whole letter reeked of being frantic and sentimental, filled with more hope and emotion than actual information. It would have to do. Derrick had managed to include all of the important parts, at least. He put down the pen and took a step back.
Derrick had no guarantee that this note would remain after everything that might happen to this house in his absence, but it seemed the best hope that he had right now. Instead of worrying endlessly about what might happen, Derrick tore himself away from the note, forcing himself to focus on other things. If he started worrying now he would never stop.
He looked at his backpack and slipped it on, fastening the various belts and buckles around himself so that he could carry it with minimal difficulty. His hand wrapped around the hilt of his knife, gripping the hard black plastic firmly. Derrick bit his lip and stepped forward.
It was time to leave.
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The actual process of leaving proved to be a bit more difficult than packing for the trip. Monsters had begun to walk past and around Derrick’s house with more and more frequency as the days passed, and Derrick had to be careful to avoid all of them if he could. This required no small amount of waiting, as Derrick had to make sure that each and every monster had passed out of sight before he could make his move. Unfortunately for him, there seemed to always be some scuttling outlier wandering around alone that disturbed his plan. He let out a yawn, more from the tiredness than any boredom. Derrick had killed the goblin last night, and after that enough time had passed that the sun now sat high in the sky. He felt the bags that had formed under his eyes but still felt himself shudder at the idea of sleep, at least until he had found himself a place relatively untouched by all of the beasts outside.
To fight his weariness Derrick began to perform simple exercises that would drain only small amounts of his stamina away from the monster’s sight. Every minute or so he would glance back out the doorway, searching for an absence of monsters that would spark the beginning of his travel, only to go back to the exercise and try again. After a while, and a point in endurance Derrick stopped, lest he leave himself too bereft of stamina to take the chance to sneak away when it presented itself.
He sat there, checking the doorway every so often, but otherwise remaining still to conserve his stamina. It did not take long for Derrick’s own fatigue to be brought to the forefront of his mind. His head nodded, his body threatening him with the relaxation of sleep. He bit his lip, and when that didn’t work started to pinch himself. Softly at first, but then harder, and harder, until Derrick pulled back his hand and saw blood. He stopped and let out a hiss of air, holding his new wound. Derrick knew that he didn’t have to do this. He could easily just go back to sleep and postpone his travel until tomorrow. But if he did that . . . Derrick, paused, thinking back to the goblin who had easily wrestled its way into his house. If he went to sleep now, anything might be able to make its way inside of his house and catch him unprepared. No. For now, sleep meant death for Derrick.
So Derrick kept fighting, kept pinching himself awake, even if he could feel that this was a losing battle. If he didn’t find a moment to sneak away soon, he would collapse into his dreams, and maybe never wake up again.
Luckily, it did not come to that. Finally, a moment came when no monsters seemed to be lurking outside, and hoisting his pack, Derrick quickly made his way out the door, wincing at the loud creak it made as he pushed it away. He stopped for a moment, searching for any sign of motion or color of movement that signaled that something had heard him, but nothing came. For the moment at least. he appeared to be in the clear.
He took advantage of the opportunity, moving as softly as he could, keeping to the edges of houses to use them as a sort of makeshift cover. For the most part that seemed to do the trick. Goblins didn’t seem to be the most observant monster, and if Derrick remained careful about his advancement, then it became easy to spot the green terrors and keep as far away from them as he could. It certainly worked on the few that Derrick came across.
Congratulations! Your stealth has become Level 6!
After about an hour of this ducking and dodging, Derrick managed to reach an area where the monsters appeared to thin out. Goblins passed through this area rarely, and in fewer numbers, while the entire area seemed bereft of the wolves that had proved problematic back home.
Derrick knew that might change someday if the monsters ever decided to move their camp but it didn’t matter. He needed someplace to stay now. He could worry about the future when it happened.
At this point, the aching tiredness had crept up through the entirety of Derrick’s body, and he felt bereft of any grace or subtlety. He simply wanted to get to sleep more than, it seemed to him, he had wanted anything in his life. He took a rock from an adjoining lawn and smashed through the glass-windowed door of the first house that he saw, a low hanging, blue, single story, praying all the while that no monster heard him, or resided in the place that he now intruded upon.
Once the glass had broken, he used some denim, handily provided by his spare pair of jeans to open the door safely and get quickly into the house, hoping to find a place where he wouldn’t have to constantly be looking over his shoulder in case of an attack.
He had barely entered the door before something met his head with a thud, forcing him violently into unconsciousness.