When we returned to the car, Carlos and Claire were standing there with anxious looks on their faces. They both suspected the truth, and I confirmed their fears with a subtle shake of my head. From the moment we surveyed the destruction of the Carolina Union, we suspected that everyone hiding there was dead, and all doubt had been dispelled.

After a long silence, Carlos said, “We loaded your trunk with engineering textbooks, Vincent. I guess our next move is to get out of the exclusion zone around the [Greater Dungeon].”

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “Fayetteville seems like a good next step. It’s just outside of the zone, and we’ll be able to travel from there to the [Town] just north of Charlotte pretty easily.”

Nervously, Claire said, “If we’re not coming back, we’ll need to pick up some supplies on our way out.”

“I bought a lot just before System Integration,” I said.

“Sure,” Claire said diplomatically. “That’s good for now, but we’ll need more supplies over the long term. Most obviously, we need clothes.” She gestured broadly to Carlos and me to punctuate her point.

For the first time since the fight with the Bull of Heaven, I looked down at my body. All of my clothes were seriously torn or covered in blood. The right leg of my jeans had been torn off, and my Hawaiian shirt was in tatters.

“There are plenty of stores in Chapel Hill,” I said, shrugging. “Let’s get out of here.”

The four of us climbed into my car, and we were back on the road in less than a minute. My car was slowed significantly by the collapsed buildings and disemboweled corpses in the street, but we soon reached Phillips Hall once again.

That stop was relatively uneventful. I walked into my [Forge] once again and used the last of my Starsteel on the creation of a few items. I made a laser rifle and two more alchemist grenades before repairing my Esotech pistol and two shield generators. To end my short building spree, I built two more Elder Sign rounds to replace the ones I used against the Bull of Heaven.

Before returning to the car, I put a hole in the wall of the [Forge] to begin the countdown to when I could create another one. The System informed me that I would be able to create another [Forge] in twelve hours.

Investigating the laser rifle, I realized that a switch next to the trigger guard could be used to switch it to full-auto. The damage dealt by the laser rifle was comparable to that dealt by the laser pistol, but the rate of fire was much faster.

After less than ten minutes in Phillips Hall, I returned to my car, and we drove away from the burning wreckage of UNC. We left the campus behind us and entered the commercial district of east Chapel Hill without running into any evidence of other survivors. Could it be that the four of us were the only people in Chapel Hill to survive? I sincerely hoped that the rest of the world fared better.

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After a few minutes, Liz broke the silence. “Carlos?”

“Yeah,” Carlos answered, turning around to see her.

“I think I can heal your leg now.”

My eyes widened. If Carlos’s leg injury was healed, his ability in combat would increase significantly. He fought with his right hand, so the injury to his right leg seriously prevented his ability to lunge effectively. Throughout the fight with the Divine Bull, Carlos was seriously hindered.

If Liz could heal Carlos’s injury, could she heal my brain injury? The thought frightened me slightly, since I had been living in such a way for nearly half of my life. As far as I knew, I could be a different person with a healed brain. It was possible, even, that my schizophrenia would disappear in the absence of the injury.

“Hell yeah! If you have the resources, hit me with that healing spell!” Carlos said with straightforward glee. Evidently, his relationship with his lingering injury was less complicated than mine.

Liz placed her hand on Carlos’s shoulder and said, “Heal Injury.”

Carlos winced in pain and grabbed his leg until the recoil from the healing magic subsided. Then, in the cramped space of my car, he pressed down hard on his right leg. The concern in Carlos’s expression transformed into unmitigated glee as he lifted his leg onto the console and stretched it forward as far as it would go. Since the front windshield was gone, he did not risk bumping into anything.

“I guess you’re at 100% now, Carlos,” I said with a smile, but my voice didn’t project over the sound of Carlos laughing.

“Oh,” Carlos said. “We need to get into a fight as soon as possible.”

“Trust me, there will be plenty of time for that,” I said.

Soon after, we stopped at a mall and looted it for clothes. I replaced my torn outfit with a three-piece suit I stole off the rack, leaving my Hawaiian shirt on the changing room floor. We left with our arms full of stolen clothes, and I shot the anti-theft devices at the entrance to prevent the alarms from going off.

Next, we stopped at a supermarket to pick up supplies. Carlos and Liz walked in while Claire and I stayed on lookout in the parking lot. Carlos jogged into the supermarket at a speed that was perhaps not entirely necessary, sped forward by the elation he felt at the opportunity to run again.

“So, Claire,” I said, unsure of how to start a conversation. The two of us had only spoken once, and that was after Simon had been killed. That was hardly a good first impression. There was a good chance she hated me, but it was likely that we would spend a lot of time together in the coming months, so I was obligated to get to know her.

As I stood there, I really looked at Claire for the first time. She had medium-length blonde hair and thick glasses, and her conservative clothing belied a reserved disposition that contrasted with her natural beauty. I was tempted to look deeper into the meaning behind her appearance, but I decided against it.

“We haven’t been properly introduced yet,” I said, deciding to go for the conventional approach. “I just realized I don’t know your last name. I’m Vincent Blackwell.”

I plastered a cheerful smile on my face and held out a hand for Claire to shake. With this, I intended to start a conversation, but the more significant intent behind this action was to test Claire’s present feelings toward me. Did she hate me enough to refuse a handshake?

Nervously, Claire reached forward and shook my hand. With a smile filled with both hope and fear, she said, “I’m Claire Fischer.”