Dust and debris continued to settle as Arron came to.

Shaking off the brain fog, he looked for Wesley. The floor above had collapsed almost directly onto the giant rat, barely missing Arron.

Saying a silent thanks for his good luck, he laid back for a second. He took in the precarious state of the ceiling and made himself crawl towards the ladder and the help above.

“Help!” he cried, coughing through the dust. “Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

No sound came through the trap door overhead. No call from someone who heard him. No shouts about the caved in floor. Not even the sounds one would normally expect from a running kitchen.

He was on his own. Taking a deep breath, Arron looked down and evaluated his condition.

His knee had somehow straightened. Arron refused to glean any hope because of it, he knew it was bad despite the appearance. He couldn’t even feel the pain anymore, and experience taught him what that meant. Reaching up, he felt the blood on his shoulder and winced in anticipation as he felt around for the wound.

Only smooth skin met his fingers.

Surprised, he ran his hand over his shoulder, squeezing and pressing, searching for the gash. No pain and no wound met his search. He poked at the knee Wesley had snapped backwards.

Nothing.

“What in the name of DeWalt and Makita is going on here?”

Arron prided himself on being quick to adapt. Take what comes and all that.

This time it took several minutes.

He slowly stood, gingerly at first to test his weight. Then almost forcefully, all but daring his knee to give him problems after dangling hope. His knee stayed strong, even as he gathered up Wesley and the rats, and climbed the ladder.

Maggie damn well better pay enough to cover a caravan ride.

***

“Well done, hero!” Maggie smiled as she handed several coins to Arron. “I certainly know who to call if there is ever a rodent issue again!”

Arron nodded, pocketing the coins with only the slightest glance to make sure it was enough to cover the caravan before heading into town.

“I felt my knee snap. Felt the cartilage shred as the joint was turned backwards. And now I’m walking around like it never happened. Not even sore. This… this I could get used to.”

He rubbed a finger against his teeth, finding that they too were whole again, not even a split lip for his trouble.

He could hardly tell he had been in a fight. Well, except for his clothes. They were bloody and torn to pieces almost beyond decency. Not that he cared about the condition of these particular clothes, they were trash anyway.

He flexed his hands, thinking of the zombie that killed him.

Instant healing. Now that was something he could get behind. No weeks of recovery, physical therapy, or debilitating life-long wounds. Hell, from what he could tell, the extent of the wound didn’t even matter. Some moments of pain and then everything was back to new.

Yeah. That he liked.

“Two silver,” said the caravan driver.

Arron smiled. He knew where he was heading, could afford to get there, and could get back up no matter what this place threw at him.

Nothing was going to stop him now.