The skies remain hauntingly clear. Around the corner of the building, I can hear something going down, but I can’t tell what. I’m sure I don’t want to know. It smells like a barbeque.

We’ve chosen a decent spot as any. We’re under an overhang, just to the side of the parking garage entrance. Behind us and to our right are thick walls of concrete. That means the only openings for attack are the road in front of us and the walkway to our left. Nothing from behind. Nothing from above. Those are key.

In front is a thin two-lane road. There are six cars abandoned in the lanes leading into the intersection, so not too crowded. On the opposite side sits a ten-story apartment building, an alley, and then some kind of warehouse. My guess is that whatever monsters we draw will likely come from the intersection to the south, though it’s possible they can swarm from the alley, the north, or up and over the warehouse.

I remember the monsters exploding from the alley earlier, the way the entire throng descended on that man, his legs dangling from their jaws like strings of spaghetti.

We’re better positioned now. We have weapons. We’re together. We know what’s coming.

It still doesn’t seem like enough.

“So once Tío Elias gets the plant to chase him, how does he get it to stop?” asks Luci. She shifts back and forth, tracing her toes along the sidewalk. Her brightly patched backpack sways against her back. I’ve noticed that she dances when she’s nervous. I default to laughing. She defaults to ballet. We both have our thing.

“Well. His ‘Hunted’ status gives the vines the ability to ignore their weaknesses in order to reach him,” I say. “When we were in the garage, the vines didn’t give chase until we were close and out of the light. And they’re reasonably slow. Needing proximity to aggro is pretty standard, and I wouldn’t call their speed a weakness. Just a trait. That leaves their weakness to light. I’m guessing that’s what his ‘Hunted’ status allows them to ignore. So once he lures the vines out of the garage, he’ll just have to outpace them until they give up.”

“And if the plant is up here, the piranha-bats will come?” she asks with a heavy amount of skepticism.

“I think so. I’m guessing that’s why they’re here, in this area. I thought it had to do with the place being populated, but it’s pretty quiet now and they’re still sticking around. I think the plant is here to attract them. I mean, it’s the one thing I know about bats. They like fruit and flowers. And fish like plants, right? Otherwise why would the plant be here at all?”

She shrugs. “Because it’s evil and everything sucks?”

“True. Very true. But there’s also a sorta logic to it. They put the portal where most people would go to look. The plant’s there to attract monsters to defend it. And I’m guessing the portal itself makes some kind of noise only the monsters can hear. Something that drives ‘em nuts. Which is why they attack the second it’s activated.”

“Uh-huh.” She purses her lips. “That’s a lot of guessing, Helen.”

“Yeah,” I reply with a laugh. “But look at it this way: Your uncle agreed. And I think we both know he’s not the impulsive type. If he’s doing it, he believes it’ll work.”

“For sure,” says Luci. She doesn’t seem convinced.

Smart kid.

Elias has been gone for a couple of minutes now. For all I know, he’s suffocating beneath a coil of vines, those thorny tendrils tightening around him like a python constricting its prey.

But hopefully not.

Beside me, Ron makes practice swings with his baseball bat. Back in the apartment, Ron insisted on hammering nails into it, but not a single one of us was cool with that idea. Even if it had the possibility of being more effective, there’s a ten to one chance this battle will end with Ron clobbering at least one of us in the head. So we told him we didn’t have time.

Our strategy is this: Ron takes the front, attracting the monsters. If they go for him, he takes the first swing. Elias is back-up. He swings if Ron misses and steps in as tank if there are too many to handle. I’ll keep an eye on the field as best as I can and give directions. I’ll also take all the rebounds. So after Ron or Elias hit, I’m up next.

And finally, if we’re busy and another comes in, Luci shoots. Although she’ll probably end up with less experience than the rest of us, we can’t afford to have her wasting bullets when a solid melee hit will do.

And as a last resort, if the monsters overwhelm us, Ron breaks out the guitar. If they truly hate noise, that should hopefully disorient them enough for us to regroup.

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Most importantly, we call our shots. The last thing we need is friendly fire.

I know. It’s not much. We haven’t drilled. And there’s no Plan B. But these are only Level 2 monsters. So long as we keep our cool, I think we’ll be okay. At least for this part of the plan.

A shadow passes overhead. My heart stutters. When I look up, squinting against the sunlight, I spot straightened wings gliding along the breeze.

It’s a seagull.

Luci points. “There he is!”

Inside the parking garage, Elias tears around the corner, materializing into the daylight. He charges up the ramp, his arms pumping like pistons, the blade of his fire axe swaying a little too close to his face, enough to be reckless. Elias doesn’t look up. He doesn’t wave. He’s in a dead, terrified sprint.

That’s when I see them. He was supposed to kite one vine, maybe two. Instead, dozens of vines slither out of the shadows. They wind serpentine up the ramp at an alarming speed, tumbling over one another in a writhing tangle. They nip at his heels, mere inches away.

We dodge clear of the entrance as he shoots out of the garage. He races past us, the vines giving chase.

“Tío Elias!” shouts Luci.

“Can’t!” he yells back. It’s all he can manage. He sprints across the street, jumps the curb, and peels down the alley, out of sight.

“Well. Shit.” I glance at Luci. “He’ll be fine.”

The vines ignore us as they stretch across the road in a twisted braid. A few of them settle, the others squirming over them to reach their prey.

On the vines that remain still, frail finger-width tendrils split from the surface. It’s like watching a photo time-lapse. In jilted motions, the ends of the tendrils bulge into swollen buds. The buds burst open, spilling sallow yellow petals that peel back into flowers.

At once, the road erupts with an earthen odor, musty and rotten.

Seconds later, the monsters come calling.

And we’re already a man down.

Ron leaps into the street, poised for action. “Here we go!”

“Hey, back on the sidewalk!”

He either ignores me or doesn’t hear me. Instead he does his best baseball hitter squat, both hands on the bat, ready to strike. He looks constipated.

Two flying piranhas peel free of the intersection. Another descends from the warehouse in a narrow dive.

“Two o’clock!”

I raise the machete in my right hand. My left hand just kinda hangs there. It’s at this exact moment I realize how perfect a shield would have been.

The warehouse piranha lands first. Ron steps back, leans in, and swings.

He overstretches, the momentum spinning him in a clownish pirouette.

The monster dodges. With a flap of its wings, it skips over the attack and realigns for another go.

There’s no time for Ron to follow up. He’s going to die. It’s only the first monster, and he’s already going to die.

“Luci!” I shout.

“On it!”

The gun pops. She knocks it right in the mouth. Teeth shatter as the monster pinwheels out of the air.

I don’t even see where the corpse lands before the other two monsters close in. One of the bats swoops low, its wings beating in a flurry toward Ron’s back. The other aims high, mouth wide, ready to chomp right down on his head. In my peripheral, I spot a third plunging over the stoplight.

Shit. Ron is still recovering from the first encounter. He whirls around, unable to see what’s right above him. What can I do? It’s out of my reach. By the way, real fucking awesome that they pitted all of us beginners against enemies that fly.

Luci aims for the monster and fires, the echo of the gun ping-ponging against the buildings. It’s deafening. The creature jerks as inky blood spills from its flesh. But it’s not enough. It doesn’t relent. Its jaw unhinges like a snake.

Ron flails and swats his bat overhead like a blindfolded kid whacking at a piñata. By some miracle, it connects. A windshield cracks as the monster pitches through the glass.

“Woo, I leveled up!” He looks off to the side, completely ignoring the other monsters about to rain hell.

Oh my god, he’s reading his notifications. The idiot.

“Ron!”

The low-flying bat rears its talons. Finally, an opening.

“I got it!” I lunge, swiping my machete in a downward arc. Holy mother, I’m agile. Too agile. My feet spring free of the sidewalk. I’m in the air. I did not mean to be in the air.

To my surprise, I don’t flail. I’m narrowed in, knees bent, blade high. Like a goddamned ninja. From above, I bring the machete down. It slices through flesh, unzipping the monster straight down the middle. My feet punch the pavement. A split second later, two putrid chunks splat beside me.

Like a goddamned ninja.

God, the smell is foul.

Four notifications hit. I skim the first three.

1.

Skill Proficiency Increased:

Melee Weapon Handling 2

2.

Enemy Defeated:

Flying Piranha (Lv 2)

Exp: 10

Earned: 50g

3.

Level up! You are now Lv 3.

Exp to next level: 0/30

Attribute points available: 3

There’s also a description of a new discovered class. But unlike my idiot partner, I mentally shuffle three points into dexterity and dismiss the rest, my eyes peeled for the next enemy.

It doesn’t take long. The second wave is already here.