He set the dish into an open cabinet above the sink. The plate was white china with pink roses, and the towel was tattered and purple. “That’s impossible,” the man said, “There’s no such thing as zombies.”

“If they aren’t zombies what are they?” I crossed my arms. I knew all about what gaslighting was, so I squinted at him.

He enunciated very clearly: “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?”

“I am here because I was chased here.” I thought I had said that already. “My name is Spencer.” I felt sort of stupid saying it. I had the opportunity to come up with a cooler name like Starshine, or Broomhilda, or something. But I blew it.

I wasn’t very good at this whole fresh start thing. It was just so much to process, that’s all.

He asked me. “Do you know where you are?”

“Honestly, no. One moment I was at work, now I’m here. It’s all been very strange.” I watched his face. “Who are you?”

His demeanor changed. He didn’t look annoyed anymore. Instead he looked sort of like he had seen a ghost. I was just asking him what he had asked me. Seemed fair.

A redheaded girl entered the room. “There really isn’t a point in hanging around. He doens’t give a fuck. Poor thing.”

The man said, “She’s not here because of Mar. She’s a Straggler.”

The redhead sighed. “Well, fuck.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. I looked from the one, to the other. I thought about what Straggler might mean, and for the first time it occurred to me that maybe I wasn’t where I was supposed to, or allowed to be. I was trespassing. “Listen. I don’t want to cause issues. I’ll leave. I’m so sorry. I just got lost.” I stepped back toward the door. The thumping of the zombie bodies against the wood had ceased. Maybe it was all in my head, in the first place.

“You can’t leave. You don’t have anywhere to go,” The man said. He sounded so sure, I was almost offended.

The girl pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “If she wants to leave, she should. It would save us a lot of trouble.”

“No.” It seemed like he had made some kind of decision, like it was something different than he had done before. It sort of felt important. “Come here.” He waved me over. “Eloise will take you downstairs to hide.”

I didn’t really have any other option. I thought that hiding would be good. Considering my situation. I could do with some hiding, just for a little while.

“Thank you for trusting me,” the man said.

I just nodded, and held onto my stick. I looked back over my shoulder as I left. He looked thoughtful out the window above the kitchen sink.

I walked alongside Eloise. She didn’t look at me. She brought me down cobblestone steps into the basement. It seemed to be some kind of store room. It smelt like onions, and spices. She gestured for me to hide behind the shelves. She left me there.

Honestly, this wasn’t a very good hide and seek spot. Light from the upstairs was the only, subtle source, but I still felt exposed.

I examined my surroundings. There were wooden crates of supplies. That seemed like a better option. A little obvious, but definitely better than standing behind a fucking shelf. I peaked out into the hall. The basement seemed to go further down. It was dark, though, but that might actually aid me in my endeavor.

I looked around for something. There was a candle, and what seemed to be matches. On the box was writing in a form I didn’t understand. I lit the candle, and took it with.

I walked down further. I walked past an actual dungeon with cells and everything. There weren’t any prisoners though, which was a small comfort. Maybe.

I reached a door at the end of the hall. It opened to an empty room, completely stone.

That was also a shit hiding spot.

I needed some kind of out of the way crevice, or something. I was beginning to think the crates were my best bet.

I heard a crash upstairs. And the muffled sound of raised voices.

There wasn’t anywhere to hide, but that door did seem to lock from the inside, so I locked it. I hesitated, but blew the candle out.

I really wasn’t doing a good job. From the outside, this would seem like a pretty neat opportunity. A fresh start, or an adventure. I was doing a garbage job, I think. Everything was the same. I was even in a basement, just like my basement apartment.

I heard them in the hall.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

He tried the door, and even though I was expecting it, it made me jump. I stood next to the door and brandished my stick, ready to hit whoever walked in first. I honestly didn’t care who it was. They were fighting. I would help either party, at this point. I was uncommitted.

“Unlock this door,” I heard a venomous voice say. It sort of made my stomach flip, and not remotely in a good way. It was only fun to fight something without an IQ, like the zombies, which I guess made me a massive bully.

“I don’t have the key.” That was the man from earlier. The one with the witch hat, and white hair.

“What do you mean?” The angry man queried.

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

Then there was a body slamming into the door. Eventually it gave. It was sort of almost funny. How long it took, I mean. Still, I probably wouldn’t have been able to do it. The door was solid. I almost think no one should have been able to do that.

The door opened and I swung. The person caught it and knocked me on the ground.

“Hello.” The creepy man said. He seemed way too old to be body checking open doors.

There was a little girl at his side, in a black cloak. She grinned. “Are you gonna kill her?”

“I can’t decide, the Farm has been short handed recently.”

I had the choice to start fighting, or give talking a shot. I had slightly better Charisma, than Combat, at the moment. “I’m a great farmer. I come from a long line of farmers. Been farming longer than I could walk, honestly.”

“It’s not actually a farm, stupid.” The little girl said.

“Well. How about I go there, and if I don’t do amazing, in say three months, you can kill me. I won’t even fight back. Unless, of course, you want me to.”

Angry man got in my face. “I think I’ll kill you now.”

“Can you at least not do it here,” the other man said.

“You don’t get any requests. You are harboring a fugitive and you lied about it.”

The angry man stopped talking. He, like, froze up. His skin turned as ash blue, spreading like a web under his skin. Then his whole form shattered.

The little girl screamed. She looked to me.

“Let Reina know what happened here,” the man said to the little girl. “Get out.”

The little girl had knives, apparently. She brandished them and lunged at the man. She stopped cold, and fell next to me on the floor. Unconscious, or dead. I didn’t know.

I hoped she wasn’t dead. I thought about what it would'u have been like if I had died at ten. That would have been like, super tragic. I wouldn’t have gotten to work at a gas station, or lose my virginity in a pool changing room with the concrete scratching my knees, or learn how to drive. I do like driving.

“She’s not dead,” the man said.

“That’s good,” I said.

“She’s just asleep.”

“When is she going to wake up?”

“When she’s given an antidote.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Everything felt a bit unhinged. I looked at the shatters of the broken man. “He’s dead though.”

“He’s dead.”

I nodded. “Yeah.” I had the strangest impulse to pick up a piece, but I disregarded it. Instead, I looked at him, “Who are you?”

He said, “My name’s Indigo.”

“That’s a pretty colour. It’s also a bookstore.” I never really thought about never seeing Indigo, the bookstore, again. Or the gas station, or anything. I decided to think of this all as temporary, and that eventually I would make it back home. It surprised me, that was something I longed for. Like all I really wanted was a Diet Coke, and a shower, and a joint.

“Alright, let’s go.” He reached to help me up. I took it, because it felt rude not to. I'm not even sure if I could stand up on my own, honestly.

I followed him upstairs. The room was a disaster. Broken glass was all over the whole entire floor. The kitchen table was on its side. Eloise seemed to be waiting for him. She flew at him. “What were you thinking, you idiot. I should kill her just for that.”

“It’s about time we put our foot down.”

Eloise's eyebrows shot up. “We?”

There was another girl in the room. She had long hair in braids, and sported pastel colours. She sort of just gazed into the floor. I wasn’t sure she could see at all, actually, or if she was just zoned.

Indigo asked, “Has Mar returned?”

“No. He’s not answering.”

That made me think they might have phones. I could ask for a charger. I’m just not sure who I would call, and what exactly I could possibly say. I probably didn’t have service here.

“Well we have time.” Indigo said. “Gather what you can.”

Eloise rolled her eyes, and left the room. The other girl left the room also. I probably should have introduced myself. I just felt strange, like way too in my own head. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, but I didn’t feel particularly afraid. I waited for the moment to eclipse.

Indigo gave me a glass of cold water to hold onto.

Elosie, and the other girl returned. Eloise gave me a canvas backpack to wear. The other girl clutched what looked like a picnic basket. It reminded me that I was sort of hungry.

The door opened. Another man stepped inside. “This better be good,” he said. He smiled at me. He had nice eyes.

“We need a hideout,” Indigo said.

“Yeah?” He held my gaze.

“I was thinking east, while the passage through the mountains is clear.”

“What happened here? I assume it has something to do with her.”

Eloise sneered. “Yeah. Indigo’s decided to go rogue and take us all with him.”

“Don’t pretend like you couldn’t go running to Raina.”

“Whatever. The Patrol is psychotic. They broke my favorite mug.” She pouted.

“You’re kidding? They’re real pieces of shit,” The new man mocked.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Don’t you think that come back’s a little played out.”

“Just like you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too.”

Indigo interrupted. “Go get your things, we’re heading out.”

I was on his way upstairs. He stopped to introduce himself. “I’m Mar.”

He definitely looked at everyone like that. It probably worked out pretty good for him. Or how at least he wanted it to. “Spencer,” I said.