Rule 26

Don't Stab Everyone & Artifacts Are Key

Statement: Upon starting this tale, my concerns were few but strong. My body had been wrecked by an accident that wasn’t my fault. My friends had distanced themselves. Now though, my body is fine and my friends are dead. What does that say? That the only people left in my life were the ones on the fringes of my life?

My niece, with barely a blink of life in her. My ex-girlfriend, who doesn’t recognize what I’ve hidden myself as. My brother’s coach, a man who always looked down on me. And my own father, who’d left. Magical irony seems to force me to interact with those most awkward for me to handle. While trying to survive monsters, of course.

They wore different clothes and had eyes which were colored differently. The green-eyed one had her hair all puffed out. Her yellow-eyed companion’s hair was tied back under a shawl, with stripes on her short skirt. Their third, shorter woman, whom I didn’t recall seeing during the line, had blue eyes and almond skin. Her hair was less frizzy and tied in a ponytail.

They all smiled in unison, displaying sharpened teeth that reminded me of a shark. The rain didn’t bother them, it didn’t even touch them despite the drenched surroundings. It was as if they stood separate from nature.

“Underwood,” said the green-eyed stewardess with a slight nod.

“Or is it Hawthorn?” the yellow-eyed one said.

“Lance, I say,” the third chimed in.

“What should we call you?” they asked at the same time. Their words echoed and a shiver shook my composure.

These people had been the ones to usher humans by the truckload. They’d guided us like lambs to the slaughter. I remembered them laughing at one man who’d stated they couldn’t hold us at that stadium. She’d laughed at him. He probably hadn’t survived.

“Does it matter?” I asked.

“Names are power, and a secret.”

“Keeping names a secret is exciting.”

“It’s a dark thrill,” the third said.

These two were heavy on the word secret. Every other sentence was “secret” this, and “secret” that. They were like a clutch of messed up parrots repeating the same stupid words.

“Why?” I asked.

They had different reactions to my question. The green-eyed one smiled like a doting mother, or a lover when her partner said something endearing. It was the same smile, not that I remembered my own mom. She’d passed away, long ago.

Her companion, the one who cast a sickening vibe with her yellow eyes, gave a wider smile and ran her tongue along teeth. The lines to her jagged smiles were sharp and obvious. Of the three, she looked downright hungry. It wasn’t in a sexual way, but more like a lion licking its chops.

The blue-eyed stewardess barely smiled at all. She refused eye contact and stared past me. Of the three, only she attempted to answer my question, though her answer made no sense. “Being one person is hard enough. Being three. Is dangerous. You’ve taken three names. Worn them as masks. But you cannot be more than one you for long. Until one of them becomes real, with or without you putting on the mask.”

I’d borne this insanity for days and kept the questions I had to myself. Talking to others about the new rules of this world, revealing myself to them, it all scared me. I didn’t trust people who might feed each other to the E-X-I-T doors for money.

I looked down, to the sides, and at each of their faces. Somehow, I knew they were waiting for me to ask a question. They wanted something, and not knowing what put me on edge.

I struggled to put the pieces together. Hephaestus was playing a game, as were these three. It involved us all. They kept the conversation on names, which meant that different names played into this situation somehow. Then I realized, on the card, it had names as well. Three, my full name.

The blue eyed one had noted Underwood, when I corrected her. She brushed passed the first name without regard. Callisto and her friends focused on Hawthorn, because that’s what I used to identify the brown skinned version created by that spell.

I nodded. The blue-eyed one had mentioned three names and it all clicked together. “Lance Hawthorn Underwood,” I said.

The green-eyed one stepped toward me. Her hand touched my chest and burned pleasantly. Other feelings were mixed into her touch, the smell of dry fields in summer. “Underwoods are honorable brutes.”

“Oh, but Hawthorn’s poke at the hearts that matter,” her yellowed-eyed almost clone said. She spoke in my ear and a trace of barbecued meat and charred ash mixed into the sound. I couldn’t begin to explain how.

“And Lance’s bare wicked lies to save the lost,” the blue-eyed one said. Her head tilted almost shyly to one side. She was visible over the green girl’s shoulder but didn’t move to touch me. From her came the smell of grass after a fresh rain.

Post Note: I couldn’t tell you how it was possible to smell different things from people not even next to me. Like so many facets of this new world, it simply was.

Her statement made the other two click their tongues in disapproval. She shuffled her feet and said nothing more.

I didn’t miss a beat and asked, “But I’m all of them. That is me.”

They stepped back while I held very still. Part of me screamed to kill them now, and said it would be a great jest. Instead, I smiled. The stewardesses with their different features also grinned. Their blue-eyed companion reached for something inside her top, but was halted by the other two. I assumed she meant to hand me more of their fake money, but instead she sniffed and nodded.

Thunder cracked, I blinked and the trio was gone.

I slept poorly that night despite Callisto’s attempts to soothe my savage beast. Before she or the sun woke, I slipped out to find a monster to fight. Anything that might help wash away the nervousness of everything I’d learned.

By dawn’s first rays I made it downtown. That had been where the original note on my doorstep said to go. This was where Mayor Kent said he’d been driven from because something here was dangerous enough to wipe out everyone remaining. I needed to see it for myself, to know what we were up against.

Birds sat on rooftops. Their heads twisted around in endless loops, staring at everyone below. They looked normal enough until one turned its beady eye straight toward me and held still.

Monsters hadn’t noticed me but my experiences were few. Thinking about the stewardesses and their ability to find me at a whim, made me unsure of everything again. Being watched made it worse.

Post Note: To be clearer, I felt, off. It’s the same as that prickling feeling on the back of a neck when it seems like someone else might be in an empty room with me.

My heart beat loudly. Eventually the bird turned away to watch something else. I stuck close to dirty walls with trails of ivy on them, in case my sneaking abilities had gone away. My fingers automatically scooped up the red spell and curled a step away from explosives.

Despite wariness, I continued on unimpeded. A few blocks closer to city hall I found the buildings changed decor. They went from run down, plant covered shells of their former selves, to covered in flat chunks of wavy metal that reminded me of yard shed roofs. Discolored paneling covered every surface and arced between buildings to create a sort of wall.

It reminded me of Mayor Kent’s blackberry bush defenses, but man made instead of grown. Small mini-orcs traveled along the outside, poking the metal. A large figure, smaller than the giant I’d slain but certainly bigger than normal men, stood high enough for me to see, then hefted fresh metal over the shorter wall. He set it down on top of one of the tusked monsters.

The creature bleated and expired quickly. Most of his companions scattered like roaches. One remained, tugging at his companion’s jacket. For a moment I believed it to be altruism, until I realized the mini-orc simply wanted a new jacket.

I stepped carefully toward the building and found a fire escape that went to the roof. Rust stained my fingers with powdery clumps. Every third rung had signs of being used regularly. My mind replayed the size of those monsters and their arm reach, in case I’d need to dodge an attack.

The rooftop I found myself on had been a food court they’d encased as a corner of their growing fortress. The place was hollow on the inside so people could sit in the middle of the building and still get sunlight. There used to be a Chinese place on the second floor that had the best noodles in pretty much every dish. I poked my head over the edge of the open air courtyard and stared into the old shop in hopes of a magical place to buy decent food. It’d been weeks since I’d eaten anything warm.

Dozens of huge hulking mutants walked out of the old Chinese place on the floor below. Since I was on the roof, they were maybe six feet away at most. I tilted my head and grabbed a handhold, ready to pull myself back to safety and quietly retreat.

A bird cawed loudly. The giants’ heads turned as one to stare at the sinister raven above. I looked at the bird across the courtyard roof. It perched on the edge and stared at me with blackened eyes. The ogre men followed the bird’s gaze to me. I turned mine to them.

My heart tightened. They could see me. I knew they could see me, somehow. As one, the batch of brutes raised their much better weapons and shouted. “My prey!”

They stabbed their weapons at the roof, shaking the platform under me. I threw my red spell at the ground by their feet. An explosion went off. I readied a second spell and threw it at the bird across the way, hoping it’d latch on to something. My body swooned from the draining effect and tilted into the nearest cover to hide.

“Where is prey?!” they shouted below me.

They moved too fast for my tastes. The bomb had done nothing to slow them down. I ran back to the fire escape across the roof and threw a third explosion at the birds. Rust and dirt scattered the air along with chunks of rooftop. A flock of birds took to the air, circling overhead.

A pack of singed, angry hulks barreled out the doorway roof access. My chest tightened. A bomb there would have been perfect.

Ogres wandered around sniffing the air. Their faces twisted into uneven expressions of confusion. I debated stabbing one, but they stayed bunched together, moving as a group across the rooftop in search of their prey.

I didn’t feel confident enough to take on that group. Not without more testing on their durability. The ogres were at least as tough as shotgun wielding mini-orcs. They’d had the floor under them demolished, in theory, fallen, and managed to get to the roof quickly.

Those damn birds could see me. They brought my attention to the ogres. Everything here went against my abilities. I slipped behind a trashcan and waited until they left.

From the higher vantage point I could see into the blocked off section of town. They’d walled up a gym and a number of office buildings. I studied it while keeping one hand on my blade and the other ready to toss an explosive.

Hours passed.

Post Note: I could regale you with every second of this time frame, but it seems easier to note that one event happened over and over. Ogres walked in with mini-orcs. The tiny creatures flailed and kicked but were ultimately thrown into the gym. What came out was a creature halfway between ogre and mini-orc. I can only speculate that they were somehow beefing up the tiny creatures to become armies for their conquest.

A coward and wise man would both choose to flee. Bravery served no purpose but likely death. I’d come back here often to keep their numbers pruned if possible. It would help to explore the connection between that gym, the birds, and the ogres who walled off a section of the city.

I slipped away, sticking to the walls and avoiding tattle-tale birds. I kept going until I found a small park where kids used to play. There, at the edge of the fountain park, I wondered about what had happened.

My nephews and I had come here for ice cream and to play. I’d taken them out to let my brother have some peace from the kids. Another memory that meant nothing to my survival, but everything to what had come before this world.

I took off my Hawthorn guise and stared into still water at the man who’d survived. Ragged brown hair that needed to be washed. Dirty fingernails that needed to be cleaned. Clothes that were an utter mess. Blood stained the parts that weren’t shredded. Callisto had to be desperate to want to sleep with this train wreck.

“What a shitty mess,” I admitted.

But my side didn’t hurt. Nothing did. I had spells to defend myself and I could recover from anything. Stella couldn’t handle this level of abuse. With Richard gone, that burden fell on me. He’d tried to do right by me in those last days. He’d been the only one to care.

Not my friends. Not my dad. Just Richard, and he was dead. Stella had survived. She would continue to survive. I clenched a fist and silently vowed to kill anyone in this new world who might threaten her, man or monster.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

My head jerked up and one hand went to the knife made of starlight.

“Penny. Not a poking. If you please and would you kindly.”

On the other side of the fountain sat a woman cloaked in darkness. Far enough away that she could run before I got to her, but close enough that I almost risked it.

“Little Shade.” I lifted the blade slightly and wondered if I could throw it into her side. To let her feel the pain of having her guts skewered. She’d stabbed me recently and it seemed fair to return the favor.

Post Note: I know earlier I’d said I made peace with it. I did, and have, but only when being rational. The me as of this moment, was not rational. Though some could argue I haven’t been sane since this whole mess began… perhaps they’d be right.

“Stay over there. Don’t want to stab you again. That I don’t.”

Little Shade had a few screws loose, but it was becoming obvious that we were all lacking some of our reason. I licked dry lips. “I’m ready this time.”

“Not ready enough. You saw them ogres? Right mess that is. Scary, they are. Growing in size every day. Even Coach Big Balls thought twice before coming down here.”

They were a legion. I could plant traps for days and maybe never stop them. Assuming there weren’t boss versions. Shotgun wielders were stronger mini-orcs, so these ogres must have a next level up.

“What if I told you I knew where something powerful is. Something that makes this place safer for everyone?”

My head turned slightly as I eyed Little Shade. She held a pamphlet outside her cone of shadow and waved it. I could make out the words “state park” but little else from this distance.

“I wouldn’t believe you.”

“You shouldn’t believe anyone. Not me. Not that Kent twit. Not them gals that look like flight attendants from some old movie. The ones that drank as much as the passengers.”

“You’ve seen them?”

“Seen lots of stuff. That I have. No one notices me unless I want them to.”

There was more to that than a simple declaration of being clever. I already knew she was a “sneak” and that we could see each other, but the stewardesses with their different eyes and hairdos could see me regardless. It stood to reason that they could see her too.

Little Shade had also told me not to believe her.

“Any which way. I got a lead. That I do. A lead on where to find an artifact. Artifacts are powerful items. Not like what those adventuring types get from some made up dungeon.”

My face scrunched up again. She smiled as if I had noticed what she wanted me to, but I couldn’t figure out what had slipped by me.

Post Note: Read it again. Read it again and again until it makes sense. Need a hint? Made-up dungeon. Who’s making it? I don’t know. Not Leon. He’s not smart enough. The stewardesses?

“Why tell me?” I needed to know why she couldn’t simply go get it for herself.

“Can’t do it myself. Not until I’ve figured out how to make two artifacts work on one body. But you could. You could get it and turn the tide of this little tiff. That you could.”

That didn’t really answer my question. “Why tell me?”

Post Note: A suspicious man might assume she wanted the second artifact somewhere she could easily get it again. I didn’t, at the time. This is proof of how much I needed to learn to survive.

“Something like my hat. Just means a little road trip is all.” She ignored my questions. “You go get it. You stop them. We all get a little bit safer. Until something else comes along.”

Little Shade dropped the pamphlet onto the fountain’s edge. I stared at it, and she left. I almost called out but didn’t feel the area was safe enough to risk shouting.

Instead, I slowly walked over to the piece of paper. The words on it shouldn’t have made sense, but some of them did. Three words at the top stood out in clear English.

My head tilted. “Crown State Park?”

If keeping Stella alive was the goal, then an artifact would be the means. I didn’t know what was so special about a state park, but Little Shade believed one of these items might be there and it would help make this town safer. I stared back along the road toward Mayor Kent’s distant compound.

As much as it irked me, I’d need help.