Roy stared once more at the door to the backroom, the big black letters the only grave for the fallen. Then turning towards the front door, Roy wound his way around the dead orchid caps and pushed open the door, tipping some of the piles he had left to close to the doorway.

He had tried out Sneak Attack earlier, but lacking a target the ability gave no indication, not even a wave of tiredness would wash over him. The only hint that the ability had activated was a small mental click that signaled the beginning and end of the window of opportunity. The clicks were spaced minutes apart and Roy could cancel the ability at any moment with a thought.

The last issue he had tried to address was access to the storage spaces. He had contemplated returning to the backrooms, but the thought was off-putting. He would find whatever he needed somewhere else; there was no need to ruin his mood because of a few batteries. So he crossed that item off the list, leaving only one out of three remaining.

Finding himself back on Scott Street, Roy crossed the street and continued north for a few paces, until the he could see the front door of the car dealership across a neat row of cars. The garage doors were down, probably closed by the workers after the rains started on the first day. Roy crossed what used to be grass and pavement to reach the door. The two inset large glass panels offered an excellent view of the interior, a dreary dark reception room that prominently displayed an array of tires.

Roy tried the door knob and to his frustration it was locked, since this was a store it was bound to have been manned three days ago. The workers would have either locked themselves in, or left and then locked the doors. Roy thought on this fact for a moment, in either situation the workers would have been alive to lock the door. If they were chased out they wouldn’t have bothered to risk their lives and lock the door, which meant they left in a fairly calm state of mind.

That boded well for entering. If the workers stayed and locked the door, that meant they felt the inside was safer than the outside. That also boded well for entering; however, if they had stayed, where were they now? Roy circled around the building and looked through the occasional window that lined the outside. They were small and severely restricted his view, but if someone or something was in there he might catch a glimpse of it, just like how he had spotted the Hastaos and sneaked up on it.

Roy trod the last few paces to the front of the dealership; he hadn’t spotted anything through the windows. Which made knocking a good idea; it meant monsters wouldn’t be able to sneak up on him now that he couldn’t mark down their locations. If there were people inside and they answered that would only be a bonus. Roy knocked on the front door, and then he circled around and knocked on every window he could find. After every dull thump Roy expected something to happen, but after walking back to the front he felt assured that the building was empty.

Roy readied his pitchfork and swung it at the glass, shattering it and sending a blossom of shards into the building. He was almost getting used to breaking and entering, which was certainly not a good habit to pick up. Roy knocked out the few bits of glass left on the pane before reaching his arm in to unlock the door.

The office area of the dealership was elevated and the insides were still dry. At the other end of the reception area a hallway led to the back, it was lined with doors that led to individual offices. A few step at the end of the hallway led into the garage and back into the water. Roy stamped his foot on the welcome mat, shaking off as much water as he could, then he beat the wall a few times with his pitchfork, making sure that he really was alone.

The reception counter was to this left and behind it stood a coatrack. It was empty, a good indication that the workers had left. Roy walked around the counter and searched, he needed batteries. Most of the counter was occupied by a computer and several desk organizers packed with papers. There was a wireless mouse and keyboard which Roy extracted six batteries from. Apart from that there was stationary, some gum, a small mirror, and most eye catching of all, a small picture frame. It depicted a family of three. A father and two sons, Roy could recognize one of the boys. He was a few years younger, but that solid build and those stoic eyes were unmistakable. It was John the captain of the school football team.

Before he realized it, Roy had stuffed the small photo frame into his bag. Some inner part of him was convinced that no one was coming back to this dealership, and John would be glad to have the photo. He had never been familiar with the boy, but his actions in the classroom seemed admirable, even if it almost cost him his life.

Roy looked through the rest of the room and found nothing of note. Each office had a computer, and each computer had a wireless mouse and keyboard. In addition there were the wall clocks. That made for eight batteries per room and thirty-eight in total including the front counter. The load of batteries was quite heavy and Roy wondered if he had gone overboard.

Ignoring that fact Roy hesitantly walked down the stairs and into the water. The garage was a large open room lined with metal cabinets and hangers. Several lifts dominated the middle of the room, all lowered and each still holding a car. He could probably find and break into where they kept the car keys, but he couldn’t drive and the water was too deep anyways. He would keep that in mind though for when he needed a ride. It was not as if he could get into an accident now that the roads were empty. He just had to be slow and cautious.

He wasn’t here for the cars. His clothes were thin layers of cotton and he lack protection. Here in the garage he was bound to find something to mend that deficiency. On the nearest rack several pairs of safety gloves hung. They were yellowed with old oil stains and globules of grease hung to the frayed fabric. Despite that they were thick and sturdy, as a bonus the palms were layered with latex, which provided a superior grip.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Roy examined the gloves and every pair that hung on the wall, but they were all the same standard safety gloves. Besides that there were heavy aprons, face masks, and various tools all along the edge of the garage. The aprons were made of heavy canvas and draped down to his knees. Roy waddled around with the piece of fabric tied to his front, and then he replaced it on the rack. It was much too cumbersome for whatever little protection it could grant him.

Roy continued circling around the room, until something caught his eye. He had no need for wrenches and screws, and he had already taken a crowbar for all its myriad uses. This was something else though; there, secured to the wall, was a sledgehammer. Several notches marked the wood handle and what used to be a rectangular prism like head was now deformed and marked. There was some draw to the weapon. Roy examined it and to his surprise it had an effect unlike all the other bits and pieces he had looked through in the garage.

Sledgehammer of Wonton Destruction

8 – 22 Physical Damage (Crushing)

Every attack increases the user's STR by 1 for 1 minute (max 50% of base STR).

Increases power of attacks against inanimate objects.

Roy took it from its place on the wall, it was heavy and the weight was focused at the end of the pole. Instinctively he knew that this was not a polearm and that the bonuses would not be applied to it, just another thought incepted into him by the system. Roy grunted and hefted the hammer and swung it at the ground. The action was slow and clumsy, though the dull thud as the head hit the concrete floor sounded quite intimidating.

The sledgehammer would pack a punch, and its ability looked quite powerful, especially with how it could scale off higher strength values. It just wasn’t for him, if he looked back at the few encounters he had scraped through. Getting close to the enemy and then winding up powerful strikes with a clumsy weapon wasn’t his style on the computer, it would be even less so in real life.

Despite putting all his points into constitution his goal was not to soak up damage, it was simply to avoid pain and death. It sounded ridiculous to his gaming sense, putting all his points into tanking and then avoiding close up confrontations. That was gaming though, and this was real life. If he thought about it, wouldn’t any soldier take the possibility of surviving several bullet wounds over greater destructive potential for their own bullets?

That didn’t mean he would leave the sledgehammer in the garage. His plan was to meet others after reaching Main Street, the sledgehammer could always be given to someone who wanted it, or better yet, he could trade it. The thought of trading essentially stolen goods did leave a bad taste in his mouth, but this was still within the bounds of making the most out of a terrible situation. At least that was how he justified it.

Carrying the sledgehammer raised several issues. He now had three large weapons, the pitchfork, the rod, and the sledgehammer. He would need to hold them with his hands, before he had held one in each hand making responding to threats fairly hassle free. Now he would either have to hold the three in a bundle or carry two in one hand, straining his grip. In either case he would have to drop one if he needed to respond to a threat. Worse of all he if he needed to retreat he would have to forgo the weapon he had dropped.

Sighing, Roy grabbed the pitchfork and sledgehammer in one hand, making sure to lean the weapons on his shoulder to take off some of the weight. The rod was considerably thicker so he carried it in his other hand. If he lost the sledgehammer, it would simply be karma for his ill-gotten gains.

Walking back to the front Roy surveyed the reception room one last time. The dealerships was safe, there were locks on the office door and windows to escape out of. He could sleep here for the night. Roy turned around and sauntered out the door, it was still before six, he could do better. He had experienced almost three days in complete isolation, surrounded by nothing but monsters and fog. It was like he was drowning, his mouth yearned for speech and his ears for conversation. Most of all his brain choked on the constant train of introspection and thought.

He had never been the best conversationalist, or the most outgoing individual, but he had friends and family, even if many of those friends he had met over the internet and many of those family members were estranged. In daily life the constant buzz of society was everywhere, normal and mundane. Now that it was gone, it was as if oxygen suddenly disappeared and one pleaded for a breath of air.

He still had hours of daylight left, and a few step from the door brought him to the intersection with Main Street. Across the street and to his west was the general store, he would head there first before proceeding further west to the grocery store. Further past the grocer’s lay the town hub. It wasn’t busy, but there was bound to have been people there when the system arrived.

Roy crossed the deserted street, instinctively looking both ways. He was around fifty meters from the general store, but the sign that hung over the front was still illegible through the mist. The single floor building was colored beige with stone brick accents on the walls and false chimneys to give it a homey feel. Now under the muted sunlight, the paint resembled a mottled grey and the accents shed their synthetic shell.

As Roy walked up to the building he regarded the gas pumps set off to the side. The pumps stood idle, decorated in colorful ads harking various rewards points and beer brands. Fuel would be useful and there was a massive tank of it stored just underground. If he could get a generator going there would be electricity, he could have warm water and hot food. That was for another time, Roy turned back to regard the store.

Only one end of the building was windowed, from it Roy could see that the shelves had evidently been moved. They were packed up against the windows, leaving only a gap for the door. The contents on the shelves were in disarray, tipped cans of food and scattered packages of candy. Though some of the items had been cleared entirely, taken by whoever had been there. Then he spotted the sheet of paper tapped to the door. Hastily written in big black letters was a brief message, “We are heading to the grocery store a block west, there is a safe place set up there and other people! – Dave, Nolan, Heida, Karl, Lestrat, Madelyn, Denton, Pyrene, Garyl”

Roy stared at the list of names at the bottom of the page. The rest of the group had made it, they had found shelter in the general store and were now at the grocery store. He would see familiar faces, the thought raised his spirits. Maybe he would even find others, Lyn, Tom, Tristan, Huxley, and maybe Lawrence.