Oliver shielded his eyes, still reeling from the sudden shift of the world. His mind grasped for memories that seemed far away. Why was he here? Yes, he had escaped the dangers at Halshan Castle.

Hunter, Owen, Halfdan, Sigrid, Elstina, Charity, Thalia, and Saj stood behind him. This was no place they recognized. To them, this was a strange realm.

He had some explaining to do. But first, he had to deal with the immediate danger.

The man jerked the shotgun when the doorway, which looked like a sheet of glass, blinked out of existence. He shook his narrow face and scraggly beard as if trying to banish the vision. “Don’t try nothing,” he warned. “You guys going to a Renaissance fair in the middle of nowhere or what?”

Oliver thought of dropping the swordstaff, but it probably wasn’t a threat anyway compared to the twelve gauge. “Easy. We’re lost.”

The shotgun’s muzzle hovered over each target. “Not smart getting lost on private property. Most people see the barbed wire fence and figure they’ve gone the wrong way. Now get on the ground before I start filling you with holes.”

Elstina leaned closer. She eyed the gun, brow furrowing. “Oliver, what is that?”

The confidence melted away from Oliver. He could save them with a deft lunge and the reach of his weapon. He had no mana and had to try but lacked the guts. Was this some effect of changing worlds? “It’s like a magic wand that’ll blow your brains out.”

She waved a hand, and a hot wind smashed her clothes to her body.

All of them felt the hot blast in their face.

Before the man could pull the trigger, the shotgun turned frosty white. His hands had frozen to the gun, and he struggled to let go. “Ahh, it’s cold. Ahhh. You’re all fucking aliens. You’re a bunch of goddamn extraterrestrials.”

Oliver bent, retrieving the ruined shotgun. The man’s eyes darted between them. “Look, I don’t want trouble,” he said, stepping back. “Take whatever you want. Just don’t probe me.”

Halfdan towered over the man. “Where are your wagon’s horses? Are they invisible?”

The man looked down, still tugging at the gun. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Oliver guided the man to a boulder and had him put the barrel down. He slammed a fist-sized rock into the metal, and the cold steel cracked. Then, he submerged the gun in hot sand to melt the ice. “We’re taking your car. Where can I drive it and leave it? I’m looking for a phone.”

“She’s running on fumes. You’ll see the water tower first, due east.”

“And a town?”

“Yep.” The man kept his head down. Did he really think they were aliens?

The metal hulk propped on nobby, low-pressure tires. Its paint had peeled under the relentless sun. The keys hung from the ignition switch.

Oliver hopped in and looked over his shoulder at the back bench. “Pile in.” And he meant pile. Nine people had to fit in a five-seater. They crammed in as he turned the key, and nothing happened.

Elstina howled when she sat down, and the metal seatbelt touched her skin. “Ugh, command it to go.”

“Give me a minute,” Oliver said. “I never got my license. And this is a manual.” He pressed the clutch and tried again. The engine growled to life. He’d heard how to shift, but it stalled when he released the clutch. “Shit.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Even when he started going, the RPMs skyrocketed at walking speed. He shifted to third, and it lurched forward and bounded over the rocky terrain. He missed a three-foot drop and careened into a ravine.

The car climbed out with ease, large tires rolling over rocks and bushes. The ride, however, jarred him up and down.

A couple of miles later, the engine sputtered to a stop. The fuel gauge read empty.

He got out. The door shut loudly against the quiet backdrop.

He climbed onto the roof, which threatened to dent, and spotted the water tower.

Closer, they walked onto a dirt road. A nearly illegible sign appeared to say mine in one direction and Willham in the other.

Two guards patrolled the tower, rifles slung over their shoulders. It was only a matter of seconds before they spotted them.

Oliver didn’t want a fight, but the desert would take his friends before the sundown. The mountains and hills wavered with the heat waves. “We need water, and they don’t look friendly.”

Elstina’s forehead beaded with sweat. She wiped at it occasionally. “I don’t have much mana.”

“Allow me,” Hunter said, sprinting to the frame and climbing. He swung over the rail and put one in a chokehold just out of sight of the other. The efficiency was remarkable.

Thalia watched Hunter lay the men down. “I’ve seen interesting waterworks in the south, but not made of metal. What kind of world have you brought us to? And why do I have a semi-transparent rectangle in my face?”

Oliver explained everything he knew, and he noticed everyone listened. Likely, they’d all become sentient. It seemed most NPCs, if not all, stood on the precipice of awareness. He told them of the scientist and Coda and the worlds that exist separate but together on the edge of a black hole. He speculated that NPCs died and were reborn in an endless cycle, except now for those separated from the System. No, not precisely separated, but outside its direct control.

Thalia noted she was a healer and spent the next hour seated on the high platform, perusing her options.

The water tower’s valves required tools to open, and they thought of a way to get to the water until Halfdan lost patience and buried his axe into the side. Water seeped from the bottom of the cut, and he did it again until he’d carved a hole.

They took gulps.

Halfdan returned the axe to his belt. “Why do these men guard water?”

“Probably a gang is charging the town for water,” Oliver said. “I bet they run the mine, too, so we should get out of here.”

“What do you mean by gang?”

“Their brigands. Outlaws.”

“The metalwork is wondrous! Doth this realm harbor many dwarves?” Owen asked.

“None,” Oliver said. “There are no elves or dwarves. Just men. And the technology is hundreds of years more advanced.” He saw they didn’t understand and struggled for words. “You drove in the car. It’s all machinery. They don’t need magic to kill you at a distance. And most are armed to the teeth, especially out here.”

“Then they speak the language of violence. That’s okay,” Halfdan said.

They left the tower and walked downhill toward a half-abandoned city. Before long, they strode down dusty streets. The sign creaked above a bar with an open door, reading: “Wild Rose.” More importantly, it had a payphone outside.

Bullet holes scarred the siding. The dim interior had a keyboardist. A green LED light caught the smoke from the tables burning cannabis. Everyone turned to watch the group enter.

Oliver noticed a no smoking, gun, or knife sign by the door, and he felt conscious of his swordstaff, but the various weapons at the patron's hips and the smoke meant the policy was lax. He neared the bar.

A woman with curly hair and heavy freckles looked him up and down. “This some king of fantasy kink?”

“I need money and quarters. I have this,” he spilled silver coins onto the countertop. “Silver.”

“Really?” She looked them over. “You’re serious? Hold on, I’ll get Jeb.” She took one coin and pushed the rest back. “Go have a seat.”

They drifted to a corner table, ignoring a few glares. The gloom accentuated the group’s dirty faces from sweating in the desert. Outside a nearby window, the tall mountains rose between here and Las Calas. They had to cross them, which could be dangerous for several reasons.

The bartender and a man who must be Jeb looked the coin over. He scratched it and held a bright light to it.

Two men came in holding a young woman by her arms. She had long legs and brown bangs. They brought her to the bartender. “We found a volunteer,” one said.

“Put her with the others,” the bartender said. “They’ll make her right at home.”

Oliver almost fell out of his seat. The girl between the men was Zaisy. Sure, she wasn’t a ladybug, but he’d recognize that face anywhere. “Hunter, look.”