“So, how often do those text bubbles pop up?” Marlow questioned as he dragged his basket over to their third tree. While Benson slung his basket onto his shoulder.

“ALL THE TIME, AND IT GETS ANNOYING.” Grumbled Benson as he tossed another apple over his shoulder. Marlow’s sweaty, sore hand reached up and pulled on another lemon-green apple. But found it too hardy to come loose.

“Aren’t their other farm hands to help us out, you know to help speed this up?”

“IF YOU THINK WE'RE GOING TOO SLOW? I’LL HAPPILY SPEED THIS UP!” At least from Marlow’s point of view, Benson's pace was well above average and began to pick up. Benson’s leathery hand sped up as the tree they picked shook violently.

Before Marlow could even get another word in, Benson dropped his basket and ran off to go pick up another one. Marlow looked in awe at the overfilled basket Benson had so casually dropped.

Marlow shook his head. If he really did want a bed to sleep in tonight. He’d better get on Benson’s good side. Marlow sat his egg down on the ground, covered it with a basket, rushed over to the next tree in line, and began to pick. Just as his basket reached three-fourths full.

Benson came sprinting back into view, two baskets under each arm. With Mr. Bones not too far behind. Benson chuckled when he threw the baskets down.

“HERE COMES THE FUN PART!” Benson cracked his knuckles. Before, he placed his hand on the tree trunk while his other hand gripped the side of one of the empty baskets. Benson grinned from ear to ear as he shouted.

“HARVEST!” Benson’s hand flashed as if his hands were a part of a time-lapse video. Each time he picked an apple, he immediately dropped it. While his other hand swung the basket around to catch the picked apples.

Apples fell like raindrops. The leaves on the tree shook as Benson’s pace picked up. Then, when it seemed like the basket was about to spill its load on the ground, Benson merely tilted the basket the other way.

“WELL, DON’T JUST STAND THERE! WE GOT WORK TO DO!” Marlow’s jaw snapped shut. He turned back to his tree and began picking. Now it was a race against the clock, and time was an old geyser with a very trigger-happy dog.

Check the apple, pick the apple, and put the apple in the basket. Check new apple, no good, throw apple. Crap, Benson moved on to the next tree. Check the apple, pick the apple, and put the apple in the basket. Checkapple,pickapple,putappleinbasket. HURRY IDIOT!

Hours passed Marlow struggled to pluck a single row of trees. While Benson cleared well over half of the remaining orchard. Or at least as far as he could see. He did lose track of him when he was twentieth rows away.

Marlow's hands were raw. He felt them every time his heartbeat. He was attempting to take a break, but the crunch of an apple under someone grabbed his attention. He sat up to find Benson with more empty baskets over his shoulder.

“How do you do it?”

“EXPERIENCE. MANY YEARS OF EXPERIENCE. ONE DAY, MAYBE YOU’LL BE AT MY LEVEL. ONE DAY YOU MIGHT EVEN PASS IT. THESE OLD BONES CAN’T CARRY ON FOREVER.” The instant bones were mentioned, Mr. Bones perked up, waiting for a command. Which went ignored as Benson dropped the baskets in front of Marlow.

“THOSE ARE GONNA BE NASTY TOMORROW.”

“They're nasty right now.”

“TRUE, BUT THEY’LL BE WORST IF YOU ARE BACK ON THE STREETS.” Marlow paled while Benson gave a wide smile.

“THAT IS UNLESS YOU CAN USE THAT NOGGIN. TO FIGURE OUT A LOOPHOLE. GOOD LUCK. I DON’T TAKE TOO KINDLY TO STRANGERS ON MY PROPERTY!”

With that remark, Benson turned back around. With Mr. Bones right behind.

“WAIT, where do you want to apples?”

“HE-HE, YOU CAN GO PUT THEM OVER BY THE BUNKER. IT’S THE HILL RIGHT BY THE BARN.” Marlow signed as he looked over at the barn well over a mile away.

Not wanting to waste this opportunity, he bit his lip and picked up the nearest filled basket. While he walked, he saw clusters of apple-filled baskets at the end of each row of trees. Marlow liked that idea. It would make it easier to bring them in if they were all gathered together in one place. He’d probably do that when he dropped off this first one.

He followed the well-beaten path to the barn and saw a light trail leading away from the big red doors. Figuring that this would lead him to the bunker, he took it. Only to find a cozy house attached to a stable, a way off.

Unsure what to do, Marlow scanned the farmland. He spotted a tiny mound of dirt in the onion patch of all places if you could even call it that. Marlow set off into the purple pom pom field without any obvious clues.

As he reached the crest of the lump of dirt, he found a rope strand in the area. Pretty sure that Benson was most definitely pranking him right now. Marlow gritted his teeth and dropped the basket.

“Stupid apocalypse! I didn’t ask to be put here! I didn’t ask to be separated from-” Marlow kicked the ground, which sent dirt flying. He turned as he was about to boot the apples he’d just brought over then, a sudden surge of calm washed over him.

“You know what, no. This thinking isn’t going to make things better. I’m doing what I can right now. So, Ms. Negative, you can shove it. I’m making progress, and you're not going to weigh me down.”

Marlow bent over and picked up the rope to find that one portion of it was in the ground. So he pulled, and nothing happened. So he pulled again, and he felt the ground wobble. Yanking the rope a third time, the ground bulged.

Marlow looked down at the dirt and saw that his kicked spot revealed a wooden plank. Following the wooden veils, he released that he was, in fact, standing on top of the door to the bunker.

Sheepishly he got off of the door and opened it properly. To find a set of stairs that lead into a rather large room that could easily fit an airplane. If they even had that in this world.

The gigantic bunker was courted off with blankets on wires. Each blanket had a different embedded picture in it. Oranges, strawberries, garlic, wheat, you name it, there was a blanket of it. It took Marlow a little while to find some blankets with apples. They were a lot further out than he thought they were.

As he made his way back toward the entrance, he noticed something. How could he see? There weren’t any light bulbs or torches, for that matter. Looking up at the ceiling confirmed that it was dirt, wood, cobwebs, and roots. So how was it so bright in here? As he looked around the man-made cave, the best guess he could come up with was that his eyes had just adjusted to the dark. Taking the stairs out, he saw a closet a few feet away. Figuring that he would check it out later.

After another long trip back with a basket on his hip, he peaked in the closet. An old horse-drawn cart sat as a family of black rats nested in the driver’s bench. Cracking open the closet door, the rats scattered.

A smile grew as things were finally looking up, then shrank back down when he realized the new problem. How would he squeeze that wide cart up through the narrow stairs? Now is a great time to go ask Benson for help. After another long walk back to the apple orchard, Marlow found Benson rapidly picking a tree clean.

“Hey Benson, how do I get the cart out from the Bunker?”

“YOU WENT IN THE BUNKER? I TOLD YOU TO PUT THE APPLE BY THE BUNKER! I-WHY-AUGH! DID YOU AT LEAST PUT THEM IN THE RIGHT PLACE?” Marlow choked. Benson was right. He said by the bunker, not in it!

“I did…”

“WELL, THAT SAVES ME A TRIP GOING UP AND DOWN THOSE STAIRS. COME ON, LET'S GET THAT CART OUT.” Benson jovially roared, and he set the basket down. The trick to take out the large cart was simply to remove the wheels and put them back on once everything was outside.

“Hey, Benson.”

“YEAH?”

“Why was the cart put together when it needs to be up here?”

“WELL, THIS IS THE CART I USE TO BRING BAD PRODUCE TO THE STAIRS. I’M SURPRISED YOU DIDN’T WANT THE CART IN THE BARN.”

“There’s a cart in the barn!”

“YEAH.”

“Why didn’t we go get that one!”

“BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T GO LOOK IN THERE, OBVIOUSLY. ON THE BRIGHT SIDE, NOW YOU KNOW HOW TO TAKE ABOUT AND PUT TOGETHER A CART.”

“I, ok, that’s fair.”

“YOU KNOW, HAVING A COMPANION WOULD HELP.”

“What do you mean?”

“WELL, TAKE, FOR EXAMPLE, MR. BONES. HE’S MY FIFTH COMPANION. NO ONE ELSE CAN CLAIM HIM UNTIL I’VE DIED. FOR A GOOD REASON TOO. AS LONG AS HE IS AT MY SIDE, HE POINTS OUT MOST CREATURES OR PEOPLE THAT MIGHT BE DANGEROUS TO ME.”

“Fifth? You have others?”

“OF COURSE I DO. I’M A BEAST, MASTER! I CAN HAVE UP TO TWELVE COMPANIONS. YOU MAY HAVE ALREADY NOTICED MY GLOW SPIDERS. THEY'RE THE TINY BUGGERS THAT KEEP MY BUNKER ILLUMINATED.”

“Oh, I was gonna ask you about that. How are they-”

“THAT QUEST REWARD INFORMATION, THEIR LAD. GET ME THOSE APPLES, AND I’LL ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS. THINK OF THIS AS A TIP OF THE ICEBERG. NOW GET BACK TO WORK, LAD!”

Shortly after, the cart was fully assembled and was hauled to the apple orchard.

Thankfully Marlow didn’t have to use his hands too often since he wrapped his arms around the bar instead.

When he picked up the filled baskets, he noticed the first few baskets he and Benson had already filled up when he first started, so he walked over to grab them. As Marlow drew closer, a clear ‘peep’ could be heard.

Marlow rushed and flipped over the basket he used to cover the egg. To find a fluffy baby white chick stumbling around. It was older than Marlow expected. Usually, it would take a week before they became that big.

Gently wrapping a raw hand around the chick, he picked it up. The baby went still as it was lifted off of the grass. Marlow examined the chick and then looked back down at the hatched eggshell.

“This is a strange place.” With an empty hand, Marlow walked over and squatted to pick up an apple basket. Unloading the basket and the chick onto the cart, he walked back, picked up the final basket in this row, and took the filled cart back to the bunker.

As the sky turned orange, Marlow brought the last batch of baskets down into the bunker. Benson and Mr. Bones were nowhere to be seen. If he didn’t get some ointment for his hands, he might not be able to keep up with Benson tomorrow. Marlow even checked the closet to try and find some, but there were just buckets and farming tools.

Taking the stairs for the last time, he closed the door and looked back up at the cart. The little chick he’d found under the basket was now fully grown.

Still trying to figure out what to do next, Marlow hauled the cart to the small cozy house with the stables attached. As he drew closer, Benson sat on the front porch in a rocking chair while Mr. Bones napped on a pillow.

“ABOUT TIME,” Benson spoke, waking up Mr. Bones. Who ran inside barking.

“I DECLARE YOUR QUEST COMPLETE. SIT DOWN; YOU DESERVE IT.”

Quest complete! Baby steps, Reward: Bed for the night, Employment from Grandmaster Harvester Benson, and class information.

Marlow hobbled onto the porch, his legs burned. As he turned and collapsed onto the bench. All while the chicken clucked around the cart.

“SO YOU GOT A NAME FOR HER?’” Benson questioned as he scratched his rocking chair.

“Who, the chicken? I was thinking Opal, you know, like her egg color. But I’ve been focused on getting you the apples.” Marlow panted as his feet throbbed in time with his hands.

“THAT’S GOOD. NOW WOULD YOU RATHER HAVE A HORSE OR A SNAKE AS YOUR FIRST COMPANION.”

“What do companions even do?”

“HOW DO I PUT THIS. THINK OF YOURSELF AS THE COMMANDING OFFICER OF AN ARMY. OF COURSE, YOU CAN GIVE AN ORDER AND HAVE IT FOLLOWED OUT. BUT YOUR COMPANIONS ARE YOUR SERGEANTS AND SPECIALISTS. THEY’RE THE PEOPLE YOU DELEGATE TASKS TO AND, IN TURN, GRANT YOU ABILITIES.” Benson talked as Marlow struggled to hold onto reality.

“So, what abilities do you have?”

“WELL, MY MAIN ONES ARE; HEIGHTENED AWARENESS FROM MR. BONES, NIGHT VISION FROM MY GLOW SPIDERS, AND BULGING RESISTANCE FROM MY SHEEP.” Benson rambled on, finally talking to someone about his interests. While Marlow fought to keep his eyes open.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Benson carried on, obvious that his dinner was getting cold. While Opal, the day-old chicken, lay on Marlow’s sleeping head.