Carlos and Liz returned soon thereafter with two carts filled with looted supplies. Together, we stored all of our supplies in the ample storage space located throughout the RV. We dumped some of the previous owners’ stowed items in the parking lot to make room to make room, and we were ready to depart after a few minutes.
I sat in the driver’s seat and placed my laser rifle beside it. Once the engine started, I began inspecting the mirrors and the various gauges sitting in front of me. While I worked, Carlos sat in the passenger’s seat while Liz and Claire disappeared into the cordoned off bedroom at the rear of the RV. It would be good for the two of them to talk, I thought. Some of Claire’s fears could be ameliorated by Liz’s testimony.
A tumultuous expression motivated Carlos’s features for nearly a minute before he opened his mouth to speak. “Vincent, Liz told me about what happened. Why didn’t you tell me you were hallucinating again?”
Upon hearing Carlos’s statement, I felt authentic regret for lying to him, Liz, and John for so long. Even when I told them about my condition, I withheld a portion of the truth.
“The full truth,” I said with a sigh, “is that I never stopped hallucinating. When I told you about my schizophrenia a year ago, I told you that I was controlling it with medication. That was a lie. I haven’t regularly taken antipsychotics in more than four years.” I tried to inject a note of humor into my voice. “You could say I’m going for the ‘John Nash’ method.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Carlos asked. “There’s no way that can be healthy.”
“The alternative is much worse. The kind of medication regimen I have to be on to eliminate my hallucinations completely is akin to a self-imposed lobotomy!” Despite my best efforts, the volume of my voice increased as I spoke. “For six months, I tried controlling it with medication! When I accidentally missed a few days, I ended up punching a nurse, and I was only able to get out of the psych ward when I stopped taking my medication and started lying to the doctors!”
I took a deep breath to stop myself from shouting any more. “Nowadays, I'm the epitome of mental health as far as the doctors are concerned. All I had to do was stop listening to them.”
Silently thankful that no institutions remained wherein I could be held, I took several long seconds to regain control of my emotions. I hadn’t gotten that emotional in such a long time that it was difficult for me to parse the feelings coursing through my body.
“Sorry,” I said quietly.
“Don’t worry about it. I’d react the same way if I went through that shit. Now, look, none of us care that you’re not on the meds. We just don’t want you to feel that you have to lie to us. We’re all on the same team, ya know?”
I had to grit my teeth in order to stop myself from crying. In no world did I deserve to be accepted so readily. By all accounts, Carlos should have written me off as a crazy person and left me alone in that parking lot.
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After I apologized to Liz and Claire for my outburst, I began driving out of the parking lot and plotted a course for a place I had been once before. We began heading back in the direction of campus, prompting a confused look from Claire.
“Where are we going?” Claire asked.
“We’re going to pick up John,” I said cheerfully as I slowly turned the massive bus-like vehicle down one of Chapel Hill’s many side roads.
Liz and Carlos grimaced. They didn’t believe in John, but I did. He knew way more about Dungeon King than any of us. There was no way he would be killed by a few Diluvians or Uruks.
“It will only take a few minutes, you’ll see.”
Our RV pulled up to the apartment complex where John Sullivan lived. I noticed immediately that most of the large apartment complex had completely collapsed. Where there had once been six stories of stone building, there was nothing but several tons of undifferentiated rubble.
Based on the pattern of destruction, it was caused by the standard rampaging of low-level MDC monsters and not a Bull of Heaven. In the Diluvians’ random flailing, they must have destroyed many of the building’s load-bearing supports.
The parking lot surrounding the apartment complex was far too narrow for the RV to fit, so I parked on the road illegally. Several hours before, taking such an action in downtown Chapel Hill would have been a sure-fire way to get your vehicle towed.
I took my laser rifle and began sprinting toward the apartment complex. As I ran, I shouted, “Hey, John! John Sullivan!”
My shouting drew the attention of four ravenous Diluvians who spotted me from about a hundred feet away. They charged at me through the open, and I dispatched them with an almost-automatic sweep of my laser rifle. Before the last Diluvian had fallen to the ground, I continued running toward the building.
[DILUVIANS (4) KILLED! +60 EXP, +60 CREDITS]
[TOTAL CREDITS: 3,170₪]
[EXP TO NEXT LEVEL: 500]
After about a hundred more feet of running, I spotted a four-legged creature emerge from the opposite side of the partially-destroyed apartment complex. I drew a bead on the creature before realizing that it had the appearance of a large dog with bright yellow fur. I dropped my rifle to low-ready, but I didn’t drop my guard completely. The dog could have been a previously-unseen monster, as far as I knew.
As the dog approached me with its tail wagging in excitement, I recognized the creature. It was John Sullivan’s dog, a golden retriever named Luigi. A dropped leash trailed behind Luigi.
Recognizing me, Luigi ran up to me and brushed against my leg. He then retreated back a few steps before looking back at me expectantly. Even I, with no knowledge of dog behavior, knew that Luigi wanted me to follow him.
I followed Luigi around the apartment building, though I didn’t have to follow him very far to find what he was looking for. There, lying on the ground of the parking lot, was a disemboweled corpse that bore the familiar appearance of an SDC body that had been struck by an MDC attack.
Luigi trotted up to the body and began slowly nudging at its skull as if to wake it up. The dog moved the corpse’s head enough that I could see the half of the face that hadn’t been torn off by the force of the blow, and my stomach dropped. Laying there, dead on the ground, was one of the few people I had ever called my friend, John Sullivan.