I continued telling myself that nothing could possibly go wrong for the next 25 minutes as I continued down the road. On the way out of town, I passed four emergency vehicles heading who knows where trying to put out the fires that continued to pop up. Considering that they seemed to be running around like chickens with their heads cut off, I was guessing we weren't the only ones around town whose cell phones no longer worked. It seemed like landlines going away wasn't the definitive good thing that everyone believed it to be, but to be fair, making things apocalypse-proof was an impossible task.

Wait. The cell signals!

I almost pulled over and turned around on the highway. We didn’t have internet in the apartment, relying only on our phones, but we did have a TV with an antenna. We never thought to check the freaking news. How had none of us thought of it? It must have been how everyone knew that there was an emergency going on and that they needed to go home.

Glancing into the mirror, I caught sight of my eyes and couldn't help but feel disconnected from my new appearance.

I suppose it was understandable that Cindy, Taylor, and I were all a bit preoccupied, all things considered.

Unfortunately, it didn’t actually matter. We were members of the first wave, which meant that we likely had a better idea of what was going on than the authorities did. Unless one of us decided to drive down to the capital building or to one of the police stations and actually talk to them in person, if they would even let us, there was likely no way to inform them of what we knew, either. I also knew for a fact that a police station was the very last place I wanted to be right now.

Regardless, it was best for me to just stay the course. When I got back to the apartment with supplies we could make more plans, and there was a TV with an antenna at mom’s house where I could check in and get updated on the news. My mind made up, I focused on driving once more.

Once I got out of the city proper, the rest of the trip went smoothly. The sun was starting to set, casting a sinister red glow across the horizon. By the time I pulled into the driveway of Mom’s house, the light was already fading, dusk giving way to night.

Unwilling to waste any time, I jumped out of the car and stormed into the house. The place was intimately familiar, the smell bringing back childhood memories. Memories of home. Memories of Mom.

I was tempted to linger and reminisce but knew that it was a pit that would keep me occupied for hours. I didn’t have enough time. The gun case was in Mom’s room, and I would get those packed away first.

We had three guns in the house: a pistol, a shotgun, and a rifle. As Mom used to say, “It was enough to cover all the bases.” As I packed each one into their cases, I took stock of what we had.

The rifle wasn’t anything special. It was a Winchester bolt action with a wood stock, chambered in .308. We used it mostly for deer hunting, or for the occasional wild pig that came roaming around the property. They were an impressive menace.

The shotgun was more interesting. It was a beautiful over-under mom picked up at auction for a steal. The stock was engraved and the metal was etched with beautiful patterns, making the thing look more like an art piece.

Lastly, we had Mom’s pistol, a Baretta 9mm. Classic, consistent, and extremely reliable. I packed it away last, along with several spare magazines.

With the three guns came four military-style ammo boxes packed to the brim. I could take inventory of what we had available when I got back to the apartment.

To make carrying things easier, I crammed everything into one of the duffel bags. While normally the bag would have been impossibly heavy, with my new strength hauling it out to the car and placing it into the trunk was trivial.

With the guns packed away, I headed back to the driveway, going to the garage. As I typed in the familiar code to send the rolling metal door open, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of grief.

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The garage had always looked like a wreck to me. Four sturdy metal shelves took up the entirety of the floor space aside from some stacked storage shelved in the back for outdoor gear, and a workbench along the other side.

The shelves were covered in random electronics. Motors, valves, diodes, old monitors, bits of wire, you name it. Anything and everything Mom could get her hands on. She just loved to tinker and work with electronics of all kinds; it was her hobby as much as it was her day job. It was a museum to her, and I couldn’t dream of disturbing it.

Passing everything by, I went to the outdoor gear and began the painstaking process of moving everything to my car. Wood axes, tents, extra rope, the box of MREs, and most importantly, a large solar-powered battery pack. Lastly, I turned to Mom’s workbench, picking up the heavy CB radio, its portable antenna, and microphone. It took a few trips, but I managed to haul them into the back seat of the car without trouble.

With everything useful I could imagine packed away, I returned to the house, painstakingly locking everything up, checking every window, every door. I even placed a spare padlock around the garage door, securing it to the ground. I didn’t know when I would be able to make it back, and though I doubted anyone would try and break in, I didn’t want anything to go wrong.

Before finally heading out and leaving, though, I went back into the living room and turned on the now-outdated TV, sending it crackling to life. Changing the channel to the news, I focused intently on the current broadcast.

An anchor sat in front of his desk, the graphic behind him showing a helicopter view of the burning downtown building. It was one I recognized even from my drive from the park back to the apartment. Eerie purple fire billowed from a window in a relentless torrent, shooting out of the glass of the very top floor.

“…and as you can see from this footage, this fire seems to continue burning without fuel, ignoring all non-organic materials. Unfortunately, four members of the Austin fire department perished attempting to storm the building. At present, the source of the fire remains unknown, but as it is not spreading any further, it is considered contained.

“We have reached out to the government for comment, but the global loss of cell signals and the mass failing of internet servers across the world has slowed response times to a crawl. We’ll cut now to Dennis Mackney, on the scene.”

The background footage in the helicopter panned, now facing into the cabin. After a pause, he started speaking into his microphone.

“Thanks, Ben, I’m here over the… oh my God!”

He started to panic as an alarm blared in the helicopter. It had started to spin wildly, throwing him against his seat straps. From the perspective I saw, it almost looked like he was floating. I could hear the people in the helicopter shouting in panic, before with a crackle of sound and the shriek of tearing metal, the footage cut off. The screen flashed back to the anchor, who was now standing, eyes wide, a hand thrown over his mouth.

The footage cut off with a pop. A generic screen with the station name appeared on the screen, with scrolling red text beneath it. My body froze in a rictus of shock, and I stared as the message scrolled, repeating again and again.

The Governor has declared a state of emergency. Please shelter in place. The Governor has declared a state of emergency. Please shelter in place. The Governor has declared a state of emergency. Please shelter in place.

I dashed out of the house, not bothering to turn off the TV, barely remembering to lock the front door on the way. With fumbling fingers, I opened the door of my car, throwing my body inside. Panicking, I dropped my keys, forcing myself to stop and search for them as I tried to get my mind under control.

I had just watched someone die.

Throwing the thought from my mind, I tore out of the driveway, hitting the county road back into Austin.

As I drove, I felt more than heard an alert from my menu. It seemed to buzz angrily behind my eyes. Aggravated, I was forced to pull the car over and check my menu.

Archetype Skill: Born to Roam 1->2!

With the proficiency level increase, the skill improvement percentage rate increased by one, from 1% to 2%. With an angry mental push, I sent the alert away, then continued down the road. By the time I made it back to the apartment I was a nervous wreck, but stepping out on the familiar concrete, the Garcia’s shop in sight, I could feel myself relax.

As I got out of the car and moved to the trunk to start unloading the supplies in the gloomy darkness, the street only barely lit by a single overhead streetlight, a voice directly behind me made me stop.

“You need some help with that?”

The voice was low and growly, but the tone was familiar.

Spinning around, I came face-to-face with a seven-foot-tall lizard monster. Its scales were red and shimmered like rubies in the dim light. Beneath, I could see rippling cords of muscle. Two spiraling horns twisted out of the top of a jagged face with glowing yellow serpentine eyes.

The beast paused, before sighing, one clawed hand reaching up to massage its snout. I forced myself to calm down. Clearly, this was someone who was changed in the first wave. Without a doubt, it was the most extreme change I had seen, yet.

“Hey Vic. You look… different than when I saw you this morning.”

Wait a second… this morning? It couldn’t be…

“DONNY?!?