Skylar Industries. The name meant nothing to me, not here, not now. The silver lettering was far from pristine, caked with dirt, dust, and whatever other particles of swamp matter might be in the air.

That was the company that owned the building. Past tense. Because now it belonged to some horror of the apocalypse. Maybe the corporate drones that worked here suffered a fate not so different than their norm.

My plan fell through. It had been a stupid plan to begin with. I didn’t know how to siphon gas and even had I known, was I supposed to just waltz in and start dousing the place?

My eyes, shadowed, drifted over to the wandering people below. Twice I’d seen the wolves come for one of the thralls only for the rest to come to their aid instantaneously. Three times I’d witnessed the same for goblins, only they hadn’t fared well, unable to run away.

I stared at the parking lot.

Elsewhere, across the swamp, and far from the Field Boss, Nicholas raised a brow.

“Siphoning gas?” He asked. “Where’d that come from?”

“In case we run into a car, I guess.” First shrugged. The question came off as a non-sequitur without context.

“In a swamp.” He said plainly.

“If we ever get out of here, that is,” I replied. “It might come in handy, who knows?”

He sighed. “Guess that’s just how we have to think about things now.” He said. “Siphoning gas? All you need is a hose, your mouth, and a container. One end in the car, the other end in your mouth. Suck until the fuel hits then move the other end to the container.”

“Huh, I wasn’t really expecting an answer,” I said, blinking.

“You’d be surprised how many random bits of knowledge you pick up as a librarian. I can’t remember if this one’s from some mechanic’s handbook or some guidebook on how to be a man.” Nicholas said.

At the same moment, I was frantically going through my [Spidersilk Backpack]. I managed to come away with a large plastic jug, currently filled with water. It had been empty in one of the laboratory’s cabinets and my best guess was that it was used to hold large amounts of chemicals.

It didn’t matter. It was a container. At the same time, Second sliced open a vine, revealing the hollow interior that sometimes held water. The hose. A trick I’d learned from observing the goblins, a source of freshwater.

Or, in this case, gasoline.

I sent my clones down, picking my way carefully across the terrain and towards the parking lot, dodging the Field Boss’s roots. They plunged into shallow pools here too and I steered clear of the parasitical insects.

Once I got down, I uncapped the gas tank of a red truck, and looking around, got to work. I fed the vine into the gas tank and managed to get some suction going, spitting out the fuel and redirecting it to the plastic jug as my eyes widened.

“It worked,” I whispered, watching the liquid flow.

I was simultaneously filled with hope and terror because it meant my stupid plan was now something that warranted a real attempt. And that there was a chance.

I waited a minute for the jug to fill up. The plastic took on a slight yellowish hue when it was full. It was a lot of gasoline and yet not nearly enough for what I planned. My heart was racing because the next step would determine any success of this plan.

I purposefully avoided the entrance the [Rootmother Hivemind] had… sent people into. Instead, my clones cleared an emergency exit, pushing open the door and finding a decidedly normal office towards the other end of the skyscraper.

Except there were roots, writhing and twisting, moving ever so slightly like tentacles, everywhere. They crawled across the walls, curled up on the ceiling, and spread across the floor. They were more active here than outside, and across the room, I spotted one that was particularly prehensile, the kind I had seen before the door had closed on those poor people.

I kept away from that one.

And yet, I’d gone unnoticed. I scoured the room for other dangers, my clones moving in silent rhythm, watching each other’s back, moving like a fluid. I checked every cubicle, every wall, every hallway on that floor, tracing the roots.

They came from above, thickening as they rose into the skyscraper. Which meant the main ‘body’ of the thing had to be on the higher floors. That was perfect for me.

I looked at the floorplan posted there on the wall, some strange vertigo overcoming me, checking something so normal. Was it wrong that being in this building was more comfortable than the weeks I’d been in the swamp?

I dumped the gasoline on the floor, around the walls, desks, and anything remotely flammable. I hoped that the Field Boss’s roots weren’t as waterlogged as the swamp’s. But even then, with enough heat, it shouldn’t be a problem.

I stared at the relatively small section of soaked floor and took a breath. It would take a while to cover the whole floor and douse everything. Longer if I wanted to be more thorough and try the other floors. I wasn’t naive enough to think I might be afforded a second chance.

Then I saw the goblin. Wandering down the hall. Oblivious to me, at least, in a general sense. Its eyes followed me, some perceptive instinct ingrained into its body, but its purpose was obviously a patrol of some kind. The [Rootmother Hivemind] ‘saw’ nothing.

It walked right past me, a sapling embedded its neck.

I nearly attacked it on wild instinct but I immediately calmed myself, remembering what happened the last time I attacked a thrall. The place had been flooded with other similarly possessed.

That small restraint probably saved me a whole lot of trouble. I needed easy access to this floor and setting the rootmother off would not be ideal.

It made sense that the heart of the Field Boss would be more protected. And, checking the first floor, I found there were only two other goblins. They hadn’t even moved in response to me but then I hadn’t bothered to other ends of the floor yet. There were only three and they wandered practically aimlessly.

Enough for a warning and nothing more, if they were to see something.

Still, the oversight led me to the center of the building. A large hole was taken out of the skyscraper. Cored like an apple. In its place, a mass of roots and tendrils, leading upward to an inky blackness my eyes couldn’t penetrate.

I saw blood on the floor. I realized I was looking at where the thing ‘ate’.