Jameson ground to a halt and darted off the side of the road, dragging Albek along behind him.

The instant he read Hemash’s message warning him that a party from the church had come, Albek’s mind was whirling, showing him images of his ravaged house, of the blood and gore thrown over the carpets, the destroyed furniture, the smashed windows, and his armlet—his missing gift. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to run the rest of the way there and fight them or to hide in the bushes until they left.

Luckily, Jameson made the decision for him.

“Alright. You stay here, I’ll go see what they’re after. And don’t look like that,” he said, seeing Albek’s pale features. “I’ll handle it. I won’t give ‘em an inch.”

“I can go with you—”

“No, kiddo. We don’t want them knowin’ you’re here with us. Stay here and out of sight.”

Without a further word, Jameson stepped back out onto the road and kept going, deer still on his shoulder. Albek kept to the woods, inching forward until he could make out the figures on the Bray’s porch. There were five. Once he was close enough to make out their appearances, he crouched behind a tree.

He instantly recognized Isaias in his distinctive army fatigues. The sight of him made Albek’s lips turn downwards. This was the man responsible for his home. He recalled his cruel expression after he showed up at the meeting just minutes after the deed, chicken blood underneath his nails.

Isaias turned at the sound of Jameson approaching. A wide smile spread over his features, and he called out.

The other four men were armed with an assortment of melee weapons. They held them at their sides nonthreateningly, but ready to use at a moment’s notice. Instead of Jameson, they seemed more interested in the deer he was carrying.

Jameson and Isaias were close enough for Albek to hear sounds of their conversation, but far enough away that their words were unintelligible. Jameson didn’t look too happy, though. Isaias beckoned, and the two moved apart from the others, speaking at a volume so low that the men couldn’t hear them. Isaias placed a hand on Jameson’s shoulder, giving the appearance of old friends catching up. The bigger man ruined the illusion, looking like a tightly coiled spring of barely contained violence. Isaias remained entirely relaxed, however.

Albek pulled out his baseball bat, readying himself for a charge if things went sour. He began eyeing up the weapons the men were holding, identifying the most dangerous ones as his first targets.

It didn’t come to that. Eventually, Isaias patted Jameson on the arm and moved to leave, with the rest of his group following behind. Jameson stood stock still, watching their backs as they departed. Albek shifted as they walked down the drive towards him, which startled a nearby squirrel into motion. Then, without warning, Isaias turned slightly towards Albek and something flashed in his hand. Albek barely pulled his head back behind the tree trunk when he heard the thud of metal on wood.

Glancing up, he found a kitchen knife embedded in the tree next to him, not six feet away. It wasn’t just sticking into the tree: the squirrel had been skewered through the head by the blade. As he watched, the creature twitched once, and was still. Albek’s mouth went abruptly dry.

‘Please don’t come and get it. Please don’t.’

Fortunately, Isaias and his group filed off, leaving the knife behind. They didn’t head back to the church, but took a left after they reached the street. Were they visiting more houses?

“Come on out, kiddo,” called Jameson. He sounded weary.

Albek left his cover.

“What was he saying to you?” he asked, throwing another glance behind them.

Jameson didn’t answer, instead asking a question of his own.

“Did he see you?”

“I don’t think so,” Albek replied. “I mean, I hope not. The knife was thrown at a squirrel, not me. But what was he talking about with you?”

“Let’s go inside. I’ll tell everyone at the same time.”

Jameson set the deer down on the lawn and went in, using his key to unlock

They found Hemash first, gun trained on the door, but he relaxed when he saw the two of them enter.

He grunted, hiding his relief. “You should have sent us a message.”

Chelsea and Liyne came out from the rear of the house, where they’d been prepared to make a run for it through the back door.

The idea of Liyne having to run for her life from a group of church men made a fresh wave of hatred rush through Albek. He went to her, giving her a tight hug.

Jameson sat everyone down and began explaining.

Simply put, it was an ultimatum: join or bad things would happen. Isaias had given the Brays two weeks to come to a decision. Isaias would return to hear their answer, and ‘no’ wasn’t going to cut it. Jameson didn’t say whether Isaias threatened him with violence, but whatever he’d said, it had apparently scared the man. And very few things scared Jameson.

“I’m thinking that ass is going around to the other places nearby,” said Jameson. “Some houses near here still got people livin’ in ‘em. He’ll probably give ‘em them the same spiel he gave me. Judgin’ by the direction they took off in, I’ve got a chance to warn a few people I know ‘fore he reaches ‘em. Who knows if they’ll get the same two weeks we got?”

“How long will it take you?” asked Chelsea.

“An hour. Maybe a bit longer,” he said.

“Very well. Send us a message if you need help,” said Hemash.

He was already on his feet and heading out. “Will do. Take care.”

Jameson left via the back door, planning to cut through the woods.

‘Wait, neighbors?’

Albek had a sudden sour feeling in his gut. The direction that Isaias left in would take him and his cronies right by Mr. Hudds’ house. Normally, that house would be seen as an abandoned, monster-infested wreck and ignored, but in the morning Mr. Hudds and Joel would be out in the backyard garden. If Isaias heard them…

‘Shit. I’ve gotta go.’

He was moving before the thought was fully formed in his mind.

“Dad, I’ve got something I need to go do,” he said.

“What is it?”

“Mr. Bray must have missed it, but I need to check up on some people that Isaias could find first.”

“What will you—”

“I’ll be careful. Mr. Hudds’ place is just down the road a little.”

He slipped out of the front door and began running. When he wasn’t lugging water, it didn’t take long to reach the street Mr. Hudds’ house was on. His run slowed to a jog, then a walk. He found a row of bushes he could hide behind and quickly darted behind them. After another fifty feet, he was at the end of the stretch of condos owned by Mr. Hudds. He found a fence with a crack that he could use to peer through.

Isaias made an impression on him when he stuck his knife through a squirrel’s head at forty feet. Albek was still two-hundred feet away, but the corpse of that squirrel wasn’t an image he’d get out of his head anytime soon.

What he saw were his worst fears confirmed. The group of five had crept up Mr. Hudds’ driveway and were approaching the privacy fence that hid their garden.

Either Isaias had heard something, or they’d spotted the garden. Either way, they’d soon discover the inhabitants. Albek needed a better vantage point to see if they were still outside. Backing up, he circled around a house two doors down, scooping up a handful of gravel into his pocket as he went. Reaching the fence that attached to the building, he clambered up it, then used it to propel himself onto the eaves of the roof. As he grabbed on, the gutter creaked and groaned, and he froze, worried he’d given himself away. However, there was no time for second thoughts. He pushed himself up the rest of the way as quickly as he could, rolling onto the roof and crawling behind a gable that jutted out from the rest of the house. He poked his head out over the ridge, immediately ducking back down in case anyone happened to be looking, but they all appeared to be investigating the grounds. Albek hadn’t been too noisy.

Working up his nerve, he poked up again for a second glance, this time into the garden. Mr. Hudds was standing in the middle of his garden, watering the plants, clueless to the group invading his property. The men were peering into the garden through some gaps in the fence, and had certainly seen him.

He didn’t see Joel, but the boy would be somewhere nearby.

He threw a stone towards the garden. It didn’t even get halfway there before it fell softly into the grass.

‘I’ve got no leverage lying down.’

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Isaias gave a hand signal, and the five of them began to fan out along the perimeter, probably searching for gates. The fence was too tall for them to climb easily. One of their number, a man with a baseball bat like Albek’s, went to watch the front door.

This was bad.

After making absolutely sure everyone’s attention was on Mr. Hudds’ house, Albek stood up, taking a stance, and chucked the second rock with all his force. It went forty feet further than the first. Still far short of its mark. Albek came to the unwelcome conclusion that he couldn’t throw far enough.

‘Wait. I have a spell for this, don’t I?”

Crouching down and closing his eyes, he regulated his breathing. Palming a piece of gravel, he felt its weight. Momentum. There wasn’t much time. Force. Make it count. Forward.

He threw, and a crack rang out across the neighborhood.

Albek sucked in a breath and dove down. The rock had slammed into the fence, right behind one of the church men, who let out a shout of surprise. For a moment, everything was quiet, but then Isaias yelled out. It seemed his plan was foiled. Albek chanced another peek, and saw Mr. Hudds hobbling inside. He was safe for another minute.

Isaias found the side gate just as the back door of the house slammed shut.

Albek’s relief was short lived. Isaias yelled out a command to his man by the front door. This time, it was loud enough for Albek to hear.

“Carson! Keep watching the front, don’t let anybody leave! There’s an invalid inside, we’ll deal with him soon!”

The other three men entered the backyard, looking around at all the vegetables available for harvest. Isaias said something, and they began piling produce into their bags. Most of it was still unripe.

Albek had only gained them a couple minutes. He had a moment to wonder what, exactly, Isaias was planning to do with the inhabitants of the house.

‘Isaias didn’t come out this way today just for Mr. Bray. They’re recruiting people, but happened to hear something and investigated this place. He called Mr. Hudds an ‘invalid’… so, he won’t be recruiting him. What’s he going to do? What does he mean, ‘deal with him’?’

Killing the man wouldn’t make sense. They’d gain nothing—wait. Albek’s head cooled as he realized there was a reason why Isaias might commit murder.

Mr. Hudds was the one who originally told Albek about Isaias. Clearly, the two men had some disagreements in the past. In addition to that, Isaias was the man who pillaged the Shokarov’s home, going out of his way to make the place uninhabitable. The only thing stopping someone like that from committing murder was a justification.

‘Hell. What was I expecting to happen when I warned Mr. Hudds? For Isaias to get scared and leave? What a joke. At what point did other humans become a bigger threat than monsters?’

It wasn’t like the old man could escape, especially with Joel in tow. Albek hadn’t done anything but delay the inevitable. There was no way for him to stop all five men. Even if it were just Isaias, he doubted he could win. Maybe Albek outranged him now that he could throw rocks at a distance, but his aim was terrible. Isaias was far deadlier with his knives, and the man had a belt full of them.

The situation looked hopeless. What was he doing here? Why was he even bothering? A week ago he wouldn’t have stuck out his neck this far for someone he barely knew. What had changed since then? Did he want to be like Mr. Bray: to be that kind? No, that wasn’t right. He could never prioritize others over himself and his family.

An image of Jameson sitting on the steps came to his mind, watching Joel play in the garden while Mr. Hudds tottered around, offering them drinks. Albek felt a constrictive sensation in his throat. Would he have to tell Jameson that Isaias had murdered these two?

Fuck that.

Albek hated the church. That was a conviction he could settle on.

“Olvilo. So long as we live, there is opportunity. Avoid ravines that are too deep for you, but when you find one that you can cross, remember this: it is better to leap and miss than to never risk the jump in the first place.”

His mind raced. Was there a jump, here? No, not off the roof. A metaphorical jump. There might be an angle towards resolving this situation. He just had to find the shallower crossing.

Then, it came to him.

This might not have been exactly what his father meant, but there was something he could do. There was a way he could skirt danger and achieve the result he wanted. The asphalt shingles of the roof were slowly roasting him, but Albek sidelined the pain while he squinted, studying the movements of Isaias’s men, who were rooting around the garden, plucking unripe fruits and trampling the shoots.

‘Idiotic. They’re ruining a future source of food.’

Less than a minute later, Albek had made his way off the roof as quietly as possible and was creeping down the side of the road, approaching the front of Mr. Hudds’ house where the man called Carson stood watch. His back was turned to the street as he poked around the front porch.

He was a large guy. Broad-shouldered and surprisingly heavy, unlike the rest of the nearly emaciated church crowd. In fact, all of Isaias’s men seemed to be eating well compared to the others. Perks of thuggery, Albek assumed.

Carson tapped on the door a few times with his bat and spoke, drawling exaggeratedly.

“Still in there? Hold tight, we’ll be coming inside in a bit. Be easier on ya if ya jus’ opened up for us.”

Ducking behind a shrub that looked like it hadn’t been trimmed in far more than just a month, Albek fingered another piece of gravel, chucking it under the porch where it hit a wooden post. Carson’s head turned at the sudden noise, and he peered over the railing, trying to locate the source of the sound. When he couldn’t find it, he walked down the steps and stooped to look underneath the porch.

Albek was glad that Chelsea hadn’t wrapped his right hand so tightly this time. He lost a lot of leverage with his pinkie and ring fingers missing, but by holding the bat with both hands he was able to use it just fine. He stepped lightly up the paved walkway, moving slowly at first, but gaining speed as he drew closer. By the last few steps, he had worked up quite a bit of momentum, which he transferred to his bat, which he then transferred the back of Carson’s head—all without any spells. The big fellow turned at the last second, perhaps hearing Albek’s footsteps or seeing his shadow approaching, but it was far too late for him to react. He didn’t even cry out as Albek’s lead-filled bat connected with his cranium.

Albek never understood the phrase “dropped like a sack of potatoes,” but after the dull thunk rang out and he saw Carson fall to the ground, Albek realized just how fitting it was in describing the dynamic motion of the human body after being dealt concussive force.

He hadn’t even used much strength—the weight of the bat was more than enough. Luckily, he’d judged correctly. Were all humans really this fragile? He remembered the cat monster from the Robinsons taking a much harder hit than this without even looking hurt.

He hoped he hadn’t killed the man. Or—wait—did he really? Glancing down, he felt a bubble of worry worm its way into his gut, but he powered through the feeling. He decided against checking on him.

‘If he dies, he deserved it.’

Leaving the moral quandaries for later, Albek stepped onto the porch and knocked softly on the front door.

“Mr. Hudds! Joel! It’s Albek,” he hissed, bringing his lips near the crack. “Hurry up and come out! It’s safe now, but not for long. We need to leave. Mr. Hudds!”

He knocked rapidly, trying to convey his message of urgency. After a moment, he noticed a peephole on the door. He backed up slightly so anyone looking through could get a look at him.

The floor creaked from behind the door. Someone was standing there.

‘Hurry and open the door!’

He heard a latch sliding on the interior, then a second latch, then the door opened a crack, allowing a watery eye to peer out at him. It was Mr. Hudds.

“Sonny? Is that you? Where’s Jameson?”

“He’s not here. I came because I thought you’d be outside and Isaias might—never mind, that’s not important right now. Is Joel there? We have to leave now.”

“Y-yes. Yes, right.”

A chain came undone, and the door opened the rest of the way.

“Um. There are some things I need to grab—” he said, hesitating.

“No time! Now!”

Albek practically dragged the man outside, and Joel followed. Albek only allowed him to lock the door behind him, and they were off. Joel was right behind, looking scared and confused. One half of the boy’s mop of hair was suffering from a massive cowlick, like he’d just been woken up. The three of them moved at a pace that was far slower than Albek would have liked, as Mr. Hudds’ maximum velocity was limited to an energetic shuffle. He kept throwing glances over his shoulder, confirming that there was no sign of Isaias.

When they reached the end of the street, he gave them directions, though Mr. Hudds probably knew where the Brays lived.

“Go up the road and take a right at the blue mailbox,” he explained. “Knock on the door and tell them I sent you. And don’t worry if Dad pulls a gun on—”

The sound of wood being hammered on echoed up to where they were standing, causing Mr. Hudds to glance over towards his house. He whipped his head right back around when Albek’s words registered.

“Did you say a gun?”

“Listen, just go!”

As the two made their way down the street, Albek hung back at the corner of the street, behind a tree. He sent a quick message to his father, then hunkered down. He wanted to wait and see which direction Isaias would go next. He imagined they’d go back to the church after seeing what happened to Carson, but there was no telling for sure. There was little danger of being seen at this distance. He was at least a thousand feet away, making him essentially an ant to any of the church men. He could easily duck around the street corner.

The hammering noises continued for a while, then stopped for a minute. He saw movement in the front yard. Someone was going up to check on Carson. More figures showed up shortly after, gathering around the downed man. Someone went to check the front door. Someone else walked out onto the street, scanning up and down it. Albek held very still. He wasn’t seen.

It seemed that disabling Carson hadn’t convinced them to stop trying to break in. They renewed their attempts and shortly were able to enter through one of the boarded-up windows at the front. The next several minutes were spent looting, Albek assumed, and then the prone figure of Carson stirred, sitting up. That answered one question, at least.

Their entire group gathered at the front with heavy bags, and began moving back the way they’d come. Towards Albek.

‘Time to leave.’

He jogged the rest of the way back, ensuring that he stayed well ahead of their party. When he returned home, everyone but Jameson—who was still out warning others—had gathered in the living room. The questions started up as soon as Albek entered. He was forced to explain what happened in detail, though he would much rather collapse into a bed. By the time the conversation wound to a close, his head felt as if it were filled with fuzz.

“Later today or tomorrow, maybe, we can return to Mr. Hudds’ house and grab anything they left behind,” he finished. “But I don’t think you can go back to living there.”

Mr. Hudds was surprisingly stoic in the face of this news. Sitting on the couch with an arm around his grandson, the man closed his eyes and leaned back.

“I wish we had time to bring along Madame,” he said. “I just couldn’t find her no matter where I looked.”

The cat in question disappeared around the time Isaias came by. Remembering Mr. Hudds’ story about how the Nassorian had once kicked Madame (resulting in his subsequent firing), Albek hoped that the creature remained in hiding.

A knock came at the front door, and everyone froze. After a moment, a deep voice traveled through the solid wood. Despite being muffled, it was smooth and silky, the kind of voice that might lull you to sleep if you weren’t careful. It was Isaias.

“Jameson? We need to talk.”

Everyone went dead silent, looking alternatively to Albek and Hemash. Hemash’s hand drifted to his side. Albek motioned everyone to stay quiet.

‘Go away. Just go,’ he prayed.

“I know it was you, Jameson,” Isaias continued when no one answered the door. “You knocked out Carson, unprovoked, right after we came to visit you. I know you’ve been keeping Tom Hudds’ presence a secret, too. The work you did on his windows is distinctive. But you know, whatever you might think, we weren’t going to hurt him.”

Another pause.

“Still pretending you’re not home?” he laughed. “Fine. I’m shortening the deadline to one week from now. After that, you and anyone else living in that house will be welcome to join us at the church. Make your arrangements. In the meantime, as payment for Carson’s injury, we’ll be taking this deer. I hope you don’t mind us borrowing a tarp.”

His footsteps receded. Three minutes later, a peek through an upper window confirmed that the men were gone, along with the deer Jameson had left in the yard. Just in case, everyone remained inside until Jameson was back. When the man did return, he brought with him a young couple who’d chosen to hide from the church. Just like that, the number of people living in the house had risen to nine.

When Jameson checked the porch that evening, he found a present left by Isaias: a dead squirrel that had been placed neatly on the front stoop, its beady, lifeless eyes staring out into the night. It had been skewered through the brain.

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