3.

Sweet grease exploded into Santi’s mouth as he bit down; the savory sausage and egg, bathed in butter, filled his mouth in an intoxicating mixture of bliss. He had to stop himself from moaning out loud. He had missed fast food. Eight years of lean eating, he had taken Tank’s truck through the first drive-thru he had seen. Grabbing the ice cold soda, he sucked down the drink in a few furious gulps. The cloyingly sweet syrupy water clung to his throat and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

The truck’s A/C was blowing on the coldest level, bathing him in its perfection. Creature comforts, soda, fast food, and air conditioning. Things he had thought were lost forever when the system came. Now he got to enjoy them for a few days before the system came again. The thought lingered in the back of his mind as he drove through the edges of the sleepy college town. Saturday mornings were quiet, most of the students sleeping in and most of the year round residents off to work. He enjoyed it, looking over the clean streets, the morning joggers, and the occasional car passing by.

He could feel tears edging into his eyes again, and he promised himself that his willpower would be the first thing he increased. While nice to not have the iron control of his emotions that he once had, it was growing frustrating quickly. A tremor was rocking his hand, his heart beating with a furious beat, all the while his stomach twisted up in knots at the thought of what was coming. He was no longer a Disciple, with the powers of a demigod. He was just simple old Santiago, with his soft belly and blatant lack of magic. There was a reason he chose to become a mage, and one that relied on speed on top of that.

The grocery store parking lot was fairly empty, just a handful of early morning shoppers and the workers' cars scattered across the lot. Santi parked in the closest spot and hopped out, feeling the warmth of the sun and the promise of a warm spring day. He grabbed a cart, then on second though, a second one. Water was heavy after all. The bright lights, shining floor, and bland music was a welcome balm of normality that called to him. While the memories of his life were slowly fading into a feverish nightmare, the plainness of the store was soothing. Santi had spent the full thirty minutes before getting the truck writing down everything he remembered while the memories were fresh.

When he had realized the memories were fading, sliding away to the dark recesses of his mind, he had panicked. His hand had been cramping from how fast he scribbled everything down. The battered college-ruled notebook might be the most valuable object on the planet right now, just nobody knew it. He had left it closed on his bed, trusting that Paulie wouldn’t look at it, even if he did come home. Santi’s rough plan for riding out the apocalypse’s early stages involved a series of old memories of the early days of the apocalypse. Memories formed before he had increased his intelligence and willpower. Memories that were hazy. He just had to hope they would be enough.

The workers gave him some strange looks, their faces lined with confusion as he started to fill the carts with case after case of water. It didn’t take long to fill the cart and he struggled to pull both of them to the register. It wasn’t only his lacking mental stats he was missing at the moment. Even with a low strength, in comparison to his rank, he had been stronger than any regular person could have been. Now, well, now he was just average at best.

The cashier, an older lady in her fifties with graying blonde hair and an amused smile, asked him if he found everything. The embarrassment of asking for help was still there, even after a decade of brutal fighting.

“Yeah, not really. I need a lot more water. Like I need to fill up my truck? Is there any way I could get some help with that?” Santi asked, half fearing a negative reaction. While his memories had transferred over, they were faded remnants that were rapidly dissolving. The majority of him was still stuck as a nineteen year old college student, including his social anxiety. He reminded himself to jot down some more notes before those memories completely disappeared. He had the faint hope that once he increased his level a few times that the memories of his old life would come in clearer.

“Sure, let me call up some of the boys in the back. We can get you settled. Do you have a rewards card with us?” The cashier led him through the process of setting up a card, knowing that he would never have a chance to use the rewards he was getting. Santi grabbed a few candy bars and threw them in too, even though his stomach was already trying to rebel from his rich breakfast.

The guys came out and within ten minutes the truck was filled with water, nearly fifty cases of it. The truck was noticeably lower to the ground as the heavy water made it sag. Santi thanked the two men, both in their late twenties, and quickly took off toward the future base of operations. The dorm would be ideal, but a rift would spawn right next to it, making it near impossible to fortify.

In the second week after the system’s arrival, the survivors had found an old abandoned building tucked away on campus. All brick with an eight foot wall that ran around the perimeter. When they had originally busted in they had been fearful that there would be a monster's nest or something equally vile. Instead, it had just been dilapidated, filled with outdated office equipment.

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It took Santi ten minutes of winding through the narrow streets, hand dancing in the air current as he let his arm dangle out of the window. The peace of the day, the warm sleepy heat, it was relaxing. His heart had slowed down its frantic pace, his stomach unclenched, and he was just enjoying the day. Santi sang along with the radio, not bothering to connect his phone, and just took a moment to enjoy life.

The building was exactly how he remembered it. A long brick wall, discolored from spray paint, dirt, and life in general, with a strong gate. A thick, rusted padlock held the gates shut, but Santi knew a way around. Part of the wall in the corner of the building, away from the street, had fallen down. He pulled the truck around the corner, and away from prying eyes, backed the truck up onto the lawn and to the broken wall.

It took him almost an hour of carefully sliding through the broken wall with two packs of water straining his biceps as he did so. There was a little shed, behind the main building. Santi didn’t want to break into the main part of the building yet, so he kept his vandalism to the minimum. The lock on the aluminum shed was stronger than the door, a door which had yielded with a few well placed kicks. He had worried initially about people coming to see what the commotion was about, but it was an isolated corner of campus. Nobody came, no nosy neighbors looked around, and he filled the shed with packages of water.

He could remember clearly drinking tainted water, filled with all sorts of foul things. People wouldn’t unlock the Purify skill for a while. It was an Acolyte skill, which could take months for people to reach. In the meantime, Santi planned on stocking the shed with clean water, purifying tablets, and a myriad assortment of other critical supplies.

He hit different stores, not wanting to make it too weird as he filled the back of the truck over and over again with cases of water. He had plans for food, but wanted to secure water first before calories and weapons. Water, shelter, food, weapons. That was his order of priorities. He had shelter, he was securing water, food and weapons could all come from the local super center the next town over. Santi knew you couldn’t just go to some mall and find a good sword. You could go and find a solid ax at a hardware store though. They weren’t designed to kill things, but were made of solid steel and had a good handle. The early waves didn’t really need premium weapons. Those could be acquired in dungeons and from crafters later on.

The sun was sitting high up, baking the land when his phone started to ring. Santi was driving back while sipping a liberated bottle of water, having worked up quite a sweat with all of these trips. He fumbled with his phone, the old habits coming back so fast as he took a glance at the screen. His previously relaxed mood dissolved as he saw the name of the caller. His mom was calling. A mom he hadn’t spoken to in eight years when she was killed in the opening days of the system. Those pesky tears started coming back as he answered the phone.

“Hey, Mom,” Santi fought to keep his voice from warbling. Emotions warred inside of him, fighting for control. It had been most of a decade since he heard his mother’s voice, and he hadn’t stopped missing her.

“What the hell is going on with your card!? I have the bank calling me about suspicious charges, Santiago.” Santi smiled in the car as his mom’s shriek rang his ears. He moved the phone away from his head and pulled Tank’s truck off to the side of the road. He had a feeling this call would be emotional. He had been putting it off all morning in fact, since he knew he would have to deal with years of trauma. Part of him insisted he had talked to mom last week. Another part, fading away but still prominent, said it had been years.

“It’s me. I volunteered to buy stuff for this get together for my major. I’m being reimbursed, it might just take a day or two,” Santi lied. It wasn’t even a bad lie considering he had thought of it on the spot. Lying to his mom hadn’t made it into his master planning strategy. It should have, though, the way this conversation was going.

“Damn right you’re going to be paid back. Why are you volunteering to spend your money, Santiago?” Mom always called him Santiago when he was in trouble. Her moods were easy to detect based on how long his name went. Right now, he was idling in warning territory. If any of his other names were brought in, well then, he was in for it.

“It’s to make connections. You know how it is. Not what you know, but, who you know,” Santi said as he savored hearing his mom’s voice.

“Don’t spend all your money. Listen, are you going to be coming back for the summer?”

“Yes,” the lie was so easy. He would never go back to his hometown. At least the version of it he would recognize. The system's arrival heralded the apocalypse. The collapse of humanity. The changing of Earth. He couldn’t bear stepping a foot back into his hometown and seeing it changed.

“Ok,” in the background Santi could hear something crash and swearing in Spanish. His dad’s deep voice was so recognizable, his chest tightened and something ugly was forming in his throat and in his sinuses. He wasn’t going to be able to make it.

“Your father just broke something. I’ll talk to you later, love you.” Mom hung up and Santi released the sob he had been holding in.