While the summate attribute theory has gained wide acceptance among the general population, most researchers agree that at best this theory is impossible to quantify, and at worst is wholly inaccurate. In contrast to summate attributes, sub-attributes are defined as any characteristic which is directly affected by an increase in a Number. A sub-attribute of a Number can be determined by observing any increase in a characteristic after observing a corresponding increase to an associated Number, independent of any training of the characteristic in question. To continue the previous example, observing an increase in lower body strength after increasing the strength Number exclusively through training the upper body reveals lower body strength to be a sub-attribute of the strength Number.

- Excerpt from “The Five Numbers, 5th Edition”

I stare at the fork in the road ahead apprehensively. While I’m excited as any fork in the road means I’m just a bit closer to civilization than I was previously, it also means I am presented with a decision, one I’m not entirely confident making.

I’m fairly sure that there were not any actual splits in the road as it headed into the forest land, so I’m not worried about taking the wrong road leading away from civilization. No, I stared out the window the entire trip to the cabin, and I specifically remember that there was only one main path. Any forks in the road would only be long driveways leading to other trailheads, or more often, to cabins and summer homes of wealthy outdoorsmen.

Normally, the choice to hike an extra mile or so to visit a nice cabin would be an easy decision to make. At this point, I’d be willing to hike an extra five miles for the chance to use actual toilet paper. And as much of a loner as I am, the possibility of seeing people again fills me with a surprising amount of joy.

But thinking about visiting the house, I can’t help but shudder, as I remember the last two times I’ve come into contact with places people have recently been. Both times, I’ve been forced to face, much closer than I would ever want, the dead bodies of my once classmates. And not just the dead bodies: the horrifyingly killed and mutilated bodies of those classmates.

I feel like I’m managing to keep it together surprisingly well since seeing the remains of the bus crash. But most of that I can attribute to the necessity of focusing on more important, yet helpfully distracting, metters. Since finding the bus, I’ve either been running for my life, fighting to the death, or coming to the realization that magic is real. I’m self-aware enough to admit that a large part of my plying my new skill all day has been to distract myself from thinking about my current reality.

I really, REALLY don’t want to have to find another dead human. Especially not when I am still all alone. I dread it with every fiber of my being. As dangerous and terrifying as fighting the tree-monster was, I would rather face that a thousand times over again before having to find another potential friend dead.

Some may call me weak because of this, and they may be right. Maybe a stronger person would be able to look into the open, empty eyes of an acquaintance without flinching. A stronger person would be able to see death and destruction, see the pain and suffering that the monsters have caused, only to focus instead on the more important reality of survival.

But for me, seeing that body, which in so many ways is the same as it was when alive, but completely absent of any sort of personality or life which used to be there, broke me. It broke me in a way that I’m not sure ever will heal, or really ever should heal.

Despite this pain, and the possibility for future pain, I know what I need to do. Sure, there may be a dead body in whatever structure lies at the end of the driveway. But I have absolutely no evidence that there is any greater chance of a dead body up the driveway than there is a half-mile further down the road. As much as I want to, I can’t allow my actions to dictated by my fear.

With that final thought, I sigh, grab the handles of the wheelbarrow, and start pushing up the driveway.

I call the offshoot of the road a “driveway”, but that likely is a misnomer. The type of person who owns property this far away from civilization is not someone who appreciates engine noises intruding on their carefully constructed solitude. I walk down the shaded road for at least a half hour before finally spying the roof of the house in the distance, peeking through the trees. Sighing with relief, I work the wheelbarrow into some underbrush next to the road, and, significantly less burdened, walk up to the house.

As I get closer, nothing immediately appears to be off, at least immediately visible. After the last few days, it is strange to see what appears to be a patch of civilization completely undisturbed by what’s happened to me. I’m not sure why, but I think some part of me is expecting wherever I go to always be destroyed.

Actually, I know why -- it’s because, so far, it’s true.

There’s a large garage attached to the house, which appears to be only a single story, although still large enough for multiple bedrooms. The driveway appears to be empty and all of the windows and doors look to be covered, giving the house the feeling of being abandoned. The front door has a walk-around porch, and I take the steps slowly up to the door. I self-consciously look down at my mismatched, singed, torn, and bloodied clothes, and make a half-hearted attempt to straighten them. After a second, I give up and knock on the door.

Fifteen seconds of awkward silence pass. I reach up and knock on the door again.

And again.

Followed by ten times in quick succession.

I grin to myself. If someone takes longer than thirty seconds to answer the door, they deserve to get spammed with repeated knocks. Just as I’m about to try the doorknob, however, I see the shades in the window move just slightly and spy a head of brown hair appear for a split second before immediately disappearing again.

My heart rate spikes as I finally realize that the house isn’t as abandoned as I had assumed. With the surge of excitement, I use my fist to pound on the door and yell out to whoever may be listening, “Hello?! Is anyone there? I need help!”

After another moment of silence from the other side, I hear through the door, “Oh good grief, it’s clearly a person,” before the door is yanked open from beneath my hand.

Standing in the doorway, I see three of my classmates staring at me, Clarissa, tall and skinny with a blond bob haircut, Zed, a quiet boy standing an inch taller than me with almost comically overdeveloped muscles holding a chair held in front of him with the legs pointing towards the door, and...I can’t actually remember the name of the last girl. But she is short, has long brown hair, and she was about as much of a loner in our classes as I was. It was her I saw peeking through the window a few seconds earlier.

Examining each of them more closely, they don’t appear to have had a much easier last few days than I have. Their clothes are torn, in some places almost to shreds, and they each have scratches over their exposed hands and forearms. Although they appear to have been able to at least clean off all the blood and dirt. They each have large, dark bags under their eyes, and Clarissa’s are red and puffy as if she had recently been crying, though now her eyes are filled with surprise as she stares at me.

“Jason! You’re alive!” she exclaims shrilly before hugging me tightly. Almost unconsciously I hug her back. I can feel some of the muscles in my back start to relax in a way they haven’t in days, as I simply lean into her.

“You’re all...fine…” I mumble into her shoulder, as my eyes begin to tear up. After a few seconds of this, I hear Zed cough, and I awkwardly release Clarissa. I never thought I’d be so appreciative of a simple hug.

“Hey Ze…” I start to say, before the other girl interrupts me.

“No names!” she yells, and I see Zed and Clarissa sigh and roll their eyes. I look at the third girl confusedly before she continues, “Haven’t you seen all the movies? This is the apocalypse!”

With that the girl just stares at me, as if I should have any idea what’s going on after that completely unhelpful explanation.

With another sigh, Clarissa finally decides to explain further. “She’s decided…” after receiving a glare from the other girl, she pauses and then restarts, “I mean, we’ve decided, that for everyone’s safety we should probably not use our real names, and we all have aliases we’ll go by instead. You can call me Styx.”

Zed, who is setting the chair down next to a small table, nods in my direction and simply says “Pallas.”

The other girl looks at me confidently, seemingly oblivious to the awkward atmosphere the rest of us are feeling, and says, “And you can call me Melete. What should we call you?”

I stare at the three of them in confusion for a few seconds, not entirely sure how I should respond to this situation. I walked up to this door fully expecting a completely empty house -- I definitely was not prepared to handle this...insanity. For some reason, they are calling themselves different names? And I’m pretty sure I recognize at least two of those from our recent greek history lesson as gods. And now they’re expecting me to do the same?

After a few more seconds of silence, of me just staring in disbelief at the three of them, I start to see “Melete’s” confidence begin to waver, and I see the the uncertainty and fear that rests behind that facade -- the fear of someone who is hanging on only by the thinnest of threads, and is desperately clinging to anything that may keep their sanity intact.

I hear “Pallas” mutter, “Just go with it,” before I finally make a decision and say the first thing that comes into my mind.

“Atlas,” I state, not confidently, “call me Atlas.”

In what seems like an instant, Melete’s composure returns in full measure. “Good,” she nods her head, “we can never be too careful now.” Then she turns and walks away, into a separate room of the cabin.

I look confusedly at Clarissa...I mean Styx...only for her to close her eyes for a second, take a deep breath, and then motion for me to come in.

Still perplexed and a bit thrown off by the entire situation, I follow her into the cabin, and close the door behind me.

S: 84

D: 31

W: 39

I: 29

C: 45

47

Skills: Adjust:Self