We got home late that night, but I still took the time to rig myself a gladiator-type skirt for leg protection before sleeping. I made it with a sort of harness I could wear under my puffer vest, to distribute the weight across my chest and shoulders. It used up almost all of my duct tape, and I hoped it held together well.

I glanced at my sword. It was doing… okay. The edge had rolled over in a few places, dented by the bones of my enemies. I’d try to sharpen it while the kids ate breakfast tomorrow.

The last thing I checked before sleeping was my interface. My novelty had gone up slightly, to 18, and my points total had gone up to 425. Still no new ability. Oh well.

…

We headed out early that morning. I figured we were probably one of the most capable forces in the neighborhood, a realization that made me feel a little proud. We took our time making our way over, trying to clear the way and make it as easy as possible for others to follow. I also stopped off at any homes I saw with unsmashed windows. It wasn’t any more fun than it was the previous day, but at least Micah wasn’t wearing himself out trying to save their freezers anymore. Of course, he could rest only because the food was already ruined, but I tried to focus on the positive.

Most of the people we’d spoken to hadn’t wanted to make the trip, but we had picked up one person, a recent college graduate named Carlos. Carlos actually had a full set of metal-and-leather armor I was very jealous of. It flexed well as he moved, and showed almost no signs of combat, even though the foam shield he carried bore deep gouges and was missing a chunk off the top. He said he’d bought both for “medieval reenactment,” which I was pretty sure was just a fancier way of saying Live-Action Role-Playing.

As much as I coveted his armor, he seemed equally jealous of my sword. His costume weapon had been specifically built to avoid injuring people, so he’d resorted to a baseball bat.

He’d tried several times to convince me to give him my weapon, or even just let him use it “until we got to the playground.” That was obnoxious enough, but he also kept littering his language with gamer terminology, then backtracking after deciding I wouldn’t know what he meant.

“Look, if you give me that sword, I’ll be able to do so much DPS! Uh, I mean, I’ll be able to kill the monsters really quickly,” he said. “That’ll make you and your kids much safer.”

“Thanks, but I feel like we’re doing fine as we are.”

I really wished he would stop talking down to me, but I’d encountered that kind of attitude a lot in the past, and I’d learned not to argue with it. Calling someone out for being condescending often led to them expecting me to ‘prove myself.’ It didn’t matter if I could meet their standards or not: I lost something just by trying.

I also didn’t like how he kept talking as if this was some… regular game. This wasn’t a relaxing pastime or fun challenge - our lives, homes, and families were on the line.

He didn’t seem to have noticed my irritation. “Sure, I guess we’re doing fine. But think how much better we’d be doing if we had that weapon in the hands of a real powerhouse. I’ve gotten my third ability, you know.”

“You did?!” My interest overwhelmed my annoyance. “How many points did it take?”

He shrugged. “Somewhere in between 415 and 439. Not sure.”

“439? Damn it!”

I ignored Cassie’s “Oooo” at my foul language. I’d had 425 points when we’d stopped last night. If we’d just killed four or five more leafenrats, I could have had all evening to browse my options and pick an ability.

I couldn’t help it; I broke my policy of not checking my interface while we were in danger just long enough to confirm that, yes, I had a choice waiting.

Carlos misinterpreted my distress. “Don’t worry,” he said gently. “I know it’s a lot, but if you keep working, you’ll get there. That’s the great thing about game systems. Even if you have to stick to easy stuff, you can still progress with hard work.”

“No,” I said. “You don’t understand. I was really close to that point total before we stopped last night. Since I didn’t make it, now I have to wait until we get home to pick a new ability.”

Carlos’s helmet obscured part of his face, but it couldn’t hide how wide his eyes got. “Oh,” he said, looking again at me and the kids. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. Good idea. Better to look through all that in safety.”

He stopped pestering me about giving him my sword.

It was midmorning before we completed our journey. I was encouraged to see that there were already a number of people at the playground. I didn’t see any other young children, but the family with the teenagers had come. I saw Tori, the electrical engineer, deep in an argument with someone I didn’t recognize. I also saw Darryl, talking with a few others I didn’t know. His bright yellow helmet made him easy to spot.

“Darryl!” I called. I started walking toward him, but Gavin caught my hand.

“Mom… can we go play?”

I don’t know why the question surprised me. I’d suggested the playground because it was central, distinctive, and fairly open. But… of course my kids hadn’t processed all that. They’d just heard “We’re going to the playground!”

I almost rejected his request out of instinct, but I forced myself to look around and consider it carefully. There were at least ten adults here already, and three sides of the playground were grassy and open. It should be fairly safe, and my kids weren’t soldiers, robots, or small adults. They couldn’t just keep going and going with no downtime.

“Keep your armor on,” I said. “And no swingset!”

“Awww…” complained Micah. “No swings? They’re the best part.”

I couldn’t blame him for being sad. I’d always loved the swings too, and most of the playground had been built with younger kids in mind. “The swings are too close to the trees. A leafenrat could charge out of that wooded area and be on you before anyone noticed.”

Micah gave the treeline a nervous look. “Oh. Okay. No swings.”

Cassie was kicking the Tagon from the inside, making the roof rattle and shake. “Let me out! I want to go on the slide!”

I removed the top. “Go ahead. But leave Pointy with me, please. I think some of the grown-ups need to meet her.”

Cassie considered this. “Uh…. she needs to come down the slide with me one time first! Then, you can take care of her.”

I laughed. “Okay, deal.”

Pointy interrupted. “In fact, no deal. I am willing to speak with these other adults, but you must place me on top of that central structure so I can surveil Cassie as I converse.”

She meant the climbing wall. “I’m all in favor of you playing sentry. We’ll do it your way.”

Cassie stared at her fist for a moment, focusing as she formed a thumbs-up to brandish at me. Then, she was off.

I made my way over to Darryl. He gestured to me as I approached, announcing to his companions. “...And here’s the lady who planned this whole meetup. Or so I hear.”

“‘Planned’ might be putting it a bit strongly, but yeah, I guess this was my idea. Do you know if the Turners are coming?”

“Uh, no, they won’t be here. I found out about the meetup on my way to their house this morning, actually. They asked me to fill them in afterward.”

“Any reason you were visiting?” I asked.

“Oh! Yeah. Wanted to make a trade. I was telling Nana Helen about your magic squirt guns, and she said, ‘Why don’t we try boiling some cayenne in my tea infuser?’ It’s not hella spicy, but it’s not gonna clog a squirt gun, either. Nana, uh, didn’t have squirt guns, so we made up a little more and I brought it over to see if they’d trade for it.”

“Does it work?” I asked.

“Yeah, some! Really helps if I get more than one on me.” He patted his hip, where I noticed a small squirt gun resting in a makeshift holster. He’d cut slots for his belt and threaded it through the bottom half of a plastic bottle.

Darryl introduced me to the people he’d been speaking to, a woman with an electric-touch ability, and a man with Analyze. Speaking with him was interesting. He confirmed that the spot I’d found on the leafenrats was the best weak spot, and he could tell me a little more about their biology. The eyes on their shoulders were actually compound eyes, which helped explain why damaging them didn’t eliminate their ability to see. I suggested the woman check in with Tori. Maybe her shocking touch could be used to charge batteries. I stopped by Tori myself, dropping off four walkie-talkies I’d found in our toy bins. She’d made a face - I think she’d only expected me to bring two - but hadn’t argued.

I circulated, introducing myself. I didn’t catch most of the names, but Cassie had pressed Pointy Turtle into my hands. I’d set her on her perch as requested and tried to stay close enough that she could listen in. I thought I could count on the AI for basic data recall.

Healing powers seemed to be common - almost everyone who’d been outside when this all started had taken some kind of injury, and two people had lost someone. I had trouble speaking with the hollow-eyed woman who’d lost her four-year-old. I knew she needed our compassion, but I just couldn’t think about her situation and keep control of myself. Guiltily, I avoided her.

There were a lot of interesting abilities to focus on. Not everyone had taken healing. For example, one of the teenagers had a strange ability called Insight. It helped her find weaknesses or flaws in physical objects, but it also helped her verify the truth of things she was told. She and her family had tested it, and it wasn’t perfect. It gave feedback on the actual truth of the situation, so someone could seem like a liar when they were simply wrong. If something was partially true, she couldn’t tell which part was the truth and which was the lie. And worst of all, for many questions, it gave no feedback whatsoever. For example, If I confidently stated “The aliens will resolve the food situation,” she had no idea if there was any truth to what I’d said. The information about the upcoming trial had seemed correct to her, however, which is why they’d come.

I had almost spoken with everyone when I heard a friendly shout. Up the street was a pack of about twenty dogs, guarding close to thirty people.

Wow. Dog Guy had been busy.

I should really find out his name and stop calling him Dog Guy.

The group coming toward us was more varied than the one that had waited here. When I’d arrived, the playground had been filled largely by young adults: strong and able-bodied. There were plenty of those in the approaching group, but there were also multiple older folks, and three young kids in the crowd. I even saw one woman with an infant strapped in a carrier on her chest.

As they reached the playground, almost everyone seemed to see someone they recognized. Everyone seemed excited to be around lots of other humans for the first time in days. My kids had rushed forward to meet the other children, and I heard Micah ostentatiously announcing it was “against the rules” to use the swings now. Eh, close enough. Another time, I might have told him not to boss everyone around, but I wasn’t going to step in when his desire to be in charge was helping keep people alive.

I picked my way through the crowd to the young mother--or so I thought. As I got closer, I could hear her defending herself to a small group that had gathered around her.

“I didn’t breastfeed him because he’s not my kid. His mom left enough milk in the fridge for the first day. I found some powdered formula samples in the cupboard, but they’re gone now too. He’s only four months old. He can’t eat solids!”

Just as my mind clocked into overdrive, trying to find a solution, another man stepped forward.

“You’re the nanny? You can bring him to our place. My wife’s still breastfeeding our one-year-old, but she’s weaning now. I’m sure she can manage a four-month old too.”

The nanny began babbling her thanks, tears in her eyes. As the pair began talking about details, like how to transport extra food and other necessities from the baby’s house to his, I felt my face stretch in a grin. Victory! What had almost been a heartbreaking tragedy was being averted as I watched, just because these people had been brought together.

I found myself the center of a small circle of attention as well. Several people were curious about how well the book armor worked, and I had about eight parents from different families asking about the Tagon. The ghost pepper squirt guns drew a lot of interest, and I was grateful I had Nana Helen’s cayenne tea idea to share. We’d gone through a surprising amount of our pepper oil already.

Sadly, no one had a growth or gardening ability. I’d actually brought a few of the ghost pepper seeds with me, hoping we could get a sustainable supply, but… not today.

My impromptu instructional talks on Apocalypse Parenting were soon interrupted by a few loud handclaps. An older gentleman was standing on the platform at the top of the slide, where everyone had a clear view of him. His posture was dignified, but his aura of authority was slightly spoiled when he wobbled as Cassie, Gavin, and a little girl I didn’t know shoved by him. They weren’t about to let little things like speeches or staring crowds get in the way of their sliding.

“My name is Colonel Dane Zwerinski. I-”

A cacophony of shouts interrupted the colonel’s resonant voice.

“The military! We’re saved”

“Thank Jesus.”

“Where are the tanks?”

“What took you so long?”

Not everyone seemed so enthused, but it seemed like my neighbor across the street had been far from the only one counting on the troops to roll in on a rescue mission. The colonel seemed taken aback by these lofty expectations, but he recovered his composure quickly and held up his hand for silence. He waited, face carefully still, until the questions subsided.

“Allow me to re-phrase. I am retired colonel Dane Zwerinski. I do not represent a coordinated effort on behalf of our fine nation’s military.” This provoked some cries of dismay, but he spoke over them resolutely. “I do represent twenty-five years of military experience in the US Army, where I served as part of the greatest fighting force this world has ever known. I will be taking command here until we can establish communications with a higher-ranking active officer.”

“Could you explain what you mean by taking command?” I called.

The colonel swept a hand out, indicating the crowd and the neighborhood as a whole. A few houses’ smashed windows were clearly visible from the playground. “What we have here is, among other things, a total breakdown of law and order. If the local government still exists, we can’t contact it. We can’t rely on it for help. That means we’re under martial law, which puts me in charge.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. On the one hand, I couldn’t object to strong, competent leadership. On the other, I’d never seen or heard of this guy before today, and I was hesitant to put decisions about our lives in the hands of someone I literally knew nothing about. Heck, how did we know he was really a retired colonel? It’s not like we could look him up online.

I clearly wasn’t the only one uncertain. Everyone seemed to be looking around, trying to gauge the reactions of the rest of the crowd. While some people’s faces shone with trust and relief, most had doubt writ large across their features.

“So... If you take command, what then?” another woman shouted.

“My first priorities would be consolidation and inventory. We need to get everyone, and their resources, moved into a few homes in close proximity, and do what we can to build an exterior wall between those homes for defense. I want to total up all the food and all the water we have left and ration it out so it lasts as long as possible and isn’t wasted.”

This plan met mixed reactions, but it sounded good to me. I thought we were likely better off than most, but I didn’t mind having decisions about rationing and sharing taken out of my hands. We’d have as long as everyone else did. No more, no less, and we wouldn’t have to eat a guilty meal as others starved or worry about starving people attacking us for food.

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure. And just how do y’all plan to do that?” The speaker was a chubby man with a drooping handlebar mustache.

“My wife is below with a clipboard. If everyone will line up and give her their names, we can start to form an organizational plan to-”

“Naw, that’s not what I mean,” Handlebar Mustache broke in. “I mean, how you gonna transport all the old folks, food, and water to one place? Damn aliens busted the cars up real good, and the gasoline’s just some oily sludge now.”

“They may have broken them, but I have faith in American ingenuity. Why, this lady here can create new wires.”

Tori took a step back as everyone focused on her, clearly irritated at the publicity. “Not for free, I won’t!”

“American ingenuity,” said Mustache. “That’s great and all when you’re talking about my cousin modding his sedan with monster truck wheels, but with all due respect sir, I don’t think you know what you’re talking about. Inside of your modern car? It’s all wires. Even the fuel pumps are electric. Only chance we got is if someone has, like, I dunno… a vintage pickup? Basically, you want a diesel car that’s 40 or 50 years old. I can’t promise it’ll run on kitchen oil or what-have-you, but we’d have a shot. Anyone have anything like that?”

The crowd exchanged glances, but no one stepped forward.

The colonel tried to rally. “Alright. It seems there are additional roadblocks, but that doesn’t change my authority.”

“How many points have you got?” Carlos was the one who interrupted this time.

“I… I fail to see how that is relevant,” said colonel Zwerinski. “My service speaks for itself.”

Carlos shrugged, walking backwards toward the bottom of the slide. In his matching, fitted, battle-tested armor, the visual difference between him and the rest of the crowd was stark. There were a few, like Darryl, who looked coordinated in their motorcycle leathers, but the vast majority of us were dressed in whatever half-ass protection we could find or cobble together. Winter apparel, trenchcoats, bike helmets… There was one man who’d made a sort of tabard for himself out of what looked like baking sheets. The colonel himself was wearing what looked like a dress uniform, resplendent with various insignia and service pins. It looked good, but not like anything you’d actually want to fight in.

In front of the crowd, Carlos spread his arms wide. “He won’t tell us how many points he has. He doesn’t have a workable plan. He doesn’t have guns or tanks, and he doesn’t know jack about this kind of combat.”

Jeers met his interruption.

“Honor the troops, young man!”

“The colonel is trying to help. Don’t tear him down!”

“Shame on you, not having more faith in our soldiers.”

Carlos didn’t bend. “He’s retired from a force that fights other people. Other human beings. That has nothing to do with this. We’re fighting monsters and leveling up. If we need a leader, it should be someone like me, someone who knows how this kind of stuff actually works. I’m a lifelong gamer. I’ve got over 500 points. I know how to thrive in this kind of environment.”

colonel Zwerinski’s face was stiff. “How dare you compare your… your games with my time in military service.”

Carlos grinned. “Oh yeah? If it’s worth so much, then… tell us how many points you have.”

Carlos’s question had caught the crowd’s attention. Worse, from the colonel’s perspective, it had caught Gavin’s.

My son paused at the top of the slide, squinting up at the colonel. “Are you really good at fighting leafenrats? You’re pretty tall, so you should be pretty good.”

“Leafen...rats? Ah, you mean the alien monsters?”

“Yeah, that’s what I call them,” said Gavin, proudly owning his nomenclature. “So, did you kill a lot? Do you have a lot of points?”

His cheerful question had colonel Zwerinski cornered. It was one thing to wave off the bad-spirited inquiry of an adult man, and another thing to refuse to satisfy the innocent curiosity of a young child.

He made a noble effort to retain his authority. “I judged it important that I take our enemy’s measure, so I engaged in combat with one, ah, leafenrat. Oh, plus those I helped kill as I assisted in escorting our group over here today. I have accumulated 16 points.”

“Huh,” said Gavin. “I have 402.” He slid down, apparently no longer interested.

I winced as Gavin effortlessly torpedoed the colonel’s authority. I wasn’t sure I wanted him in charge, but I did want people working together. That was seeming less and less likely as Carlos continued to malign colonel Zwerinski’s credentials, touting his own pile of points as evidence that he deserved to lead. I could hear other voices rising as well, as Tori and a few others also started making their case to be leader.

Not everyone wanted to be in charge, though, and I could see some groups edging toward the street as the argument grew more heated. Ugh. What a mess. We’d gotten everyone in one place! It hadn’t been easy. We couldn’t just let it fall apart.

I went back to the Tagon and grabbed one of the thick permanent markers I’d brought, then jogged toward the departing groups. “Wait, just a minute, please! Before you leave, could you come with me for a minute? I just want to make a record of people’s names and addresses and abilities, as well as their percentages. I’ll write them down publicly, on the climbing wall over there, and maybe people can use that information to help choose abilities that work better for them.”

“Why do you want our addresses?” a woman asked, voice thick with suspicion.

I held up my hands. “You don’t need to give me that if you don’t want to! I’d be thrilled with just your abilities and the percentages. But I was thinking that if we can make a list of who’s who, it’ll make everything easier. People who live in the same area can group up and fight together so they have backup. People will know where to find those with useful abilities, like Healing Touch or Cure Disease or metal-shaping.”

“Can you write our prices down, too?” a man asked.

“Your prices?”

“Yeah, that metal woman said she wanted 500 calories of food to fix a walkie-talkie for us. Well, I like that plan. My name’s Mason. I’ve got Cleanse, and I’ll clean out any wound for 1500 calories.”

I hesitated. My initial feeling was that everyone should just be willing to help out, but I couldn’t deny that more people would help if they got something out of it. Maybe I should have charged people something when Micah re-froze people’s food. It felt wrong, but if that’s how everyone was doing things, I’d have to be as mercenary as anyone else to keep food on the table for my kids.

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile to my face. “Give me your info, and I’ll write it down.”

…

A couple hours later, the argument over leadership had reached an uneasy detente. The colonel was still insisting that he was in charge, but he and everyone else vying for leadership had realized they were essentially fighting over an empty cup. What would being in charge mean right now? What could anyone do? A whole lot of nothing, that’s what.

My wrist was aching and nearly a third of the 15-foot climbing wall was covered in text. People stood behind me, arguing and haggling. Tori was unhappy with me for writing down her address and the 500-calorie price we’d discussed before, but so far she’d just yelled at me, not asked me to change it. Mason, the man with Cleanse, had his price undercut by a woman with the same capability, and had spent the past hour trying to convince her that they’d both benefit if she’d match his higher price. The Calorie Economy had existed for no time at all, and already the marketplace was marred by attempted collusion.

I set the marker down in one of the footholds. If anyone else came by, maybe they would add their own info.

Carlos and Darryl’s entries, as the only ones listing three abilities, drew a lot of attention.

Carlos Serrano - 121 Azure Street

Powerful Blow: 250%

Knockback: 230%

Leap: 230% Darryl Packard - 103 Carmine Court

Powerful Blow: 180%

Improvised Equipment: 130%

Force Shield: 200%

I thought again about assigning my ability - it was reasonably safe in the crowd, right? But even with Pointy watching Cassie, the idea made me uncomfortable. I was here for a reason - to talk to people. Taking time away from that, and my attention away from watching my kids, seemed irresponsible and a little reckless. There was no reason I couldn’t wait until we got home.

A narrow majority of the people who’d made it to the meetup - especially those who’d come later, guarded by the large pack of dogs - had only their first ability. There were 16 people with two abilities to record. My initial 140% wasn’t actually too bad. It seemed every ability boosted the others at least a little. Five people had gotten only a 10% boost, but no one had gotten nothing. There were a few people with really high boosts. Some made immediate sense, like the man who’d taken Fire Bolt and Ice Bolt, but others were less intuitive. The woman with the highest percentage we’d seen so far, aside from Micah, had 190% on both Force Shield and an ability called Missile.

I’d also learned that the blueprints were even worse than they seemed - not only did you need money to activate them, once activated, they disappeared from interfaces. You couldn’t make a secure shelter by re-using a single “Reinforced Wall” blueprint, much to the frustration of a woman who’d invested 10 money into trying and ended up with a single freestanding wall and an empty “Blueprints” section on her interface.

Things started dying down as the sun got higher and bellies started rumbling for lunchtime. A few people had already departed, coaxing a portion of the massive dogpack along with them. I felt satisfied, watching them go; we’d accomplished a lot. We’d all learned and shared information. The addresses of healers were posted. Tori would start repairing the walkie-talkies soon, and we’d agreed that people would turn them on for a little bit at sunset each day to share info.

I was happy the kids had gotten a little time to play and be kids, too. Well, at least the younger ones. Micah had spent most of his time sitting on top of the climbing wall with Pointy and talking to adults about abilities, but he loved talking to grownups and people were actually legitimately interested in what he had to tell them about the extra benefits he’d gotten when his percentages broke the 200% barrier.

Gavin and Cassie were involved in some kind of game with the other young girl still here. It looked like tag, but I’d learned not to assume things. If you saw a kid holding what looked like a toy duck, and heard them quacking like a duck, that didn’t mean they weren’t pretending to be a superhero. As I watched, Gavin sprinted in a loop around the playground’s castle and the girl chasing him took a shortcut under its bridge.

I was really shocked when the ground snapped up around her like a trap.