And why should we compare ourselves using just the Numbers? Is the winner of a foot race determined by dexterity alone? No. It is a combination of multiple factors. Many, I’ll grant you, are influenced by Numbers: endurance, speed, and body control from the dexterity and strength Numbers, for example. But many other factors also affect the outcome: length of limb, mentality, nervousness, how rested the runners are, and simply what they had for breakfast that morning! Clearly not all of these factors can be judged just by our Numbers. If a simple physical competition can’t be determined by Numbers, why should we allow others to ever use our Numbers to judge any aspect of our worth?

- Quote from speech by John Liegan at NFA rally

“Something....green.” Styx says, and I turn my head back and forth, frantically scanning my surroundings.

“Trees! Ooh, grass! That tractor two houses back! Your level of experience fighting!” Melete exclaims out, but at least remembering to keep her voice somewhat quiet.

“No, no, no, and...rude, no.” Styx replies.

We walk down the road together, playing the game of “I Spy.” At first, we had been walking the remaining few miles into town in complete silence, staring suspiciously at each house and driveway we sneak past.

After the debacle that was the last farmhouse we visited, we came to the consensus that checking out every house isn’t any safer than just getting to town as fast as we can. But as we crept silently down the road, the tension mounting with every step, I decided that our sanity and peace of mind is more important than maintaining our silence.

And so: I Spy. The game of car trips of my youth. I’m still convinced that my parents only suggested playing the game so that they could make up some object they “saw” and keep me distracted from my incessant complaining for just a few minutes. But as we walk down the road I start to see the true merits of the game: keeping us calm, relaxed, and aware of our surroundings.

I keep looking around me, searching for anything green that may have caught Styx’s eye. It’s difficult, given how much green there is around us. Melete’s guesses are making less and less sense as time goes on, but Styx doesn’t seem to mind, simply replying “no” to each increasingly ridiculous statement.

Pallas interrupts their dialogue with a simple statement. “That sign up ahead.”

“Yep!” Styx replies.

I squint into the distance and finally make out the small green sign next to the road -- difficult to pick out of the shadow of the tree it is sitting under.

Wow, Styx has good eyesight. None of us have glasses, luckily, but the sign is far enough away that I’m not able to read what it says.

“Are you able to read it?” I quickly ask.

“Yeah,” Styx replies, squinting. “It says: Aliston City Limits. Population…” she pauses, “I’m not sure exactly. Three thousand and seventeen, I think? Some of the numbers are hard to read.”

The sign and tree sit at the top of a hill in the distance, so we aren’t able to see anything beyond them. But I’m assuming the outer buildings of the small town will start showing up quickly after we get there.

The game of I Spy is completely forgotten from my mind as I consider the implications. We’re finally here!

But as the relief courses through my body, a small, pessimistic part of me whispers caution.

Melete seems to feel the same way, as she interjects, “There won’t be any cars there, or course. Or maybe it’ll be filled with monsters. Or filled with people who are just jerks...so kinda like monsters.”

“I agree with Melete.” I state, and Styx gives me a strange look. I quickly amend my statement. “Well at least partially. Not for most of that stuff. We should be cautious. Not just waltz into town on the main road.”

I look around, only to see fields stretching out on either side of the road -- not the most conducive to a stealthy approach. But on the left, a few hundred yards from the road, I can see a small copse of trees and bushes.

“Let’s leave our supplies there and try to sneak into town... see if we can get an idea of what’s going on before we just go in.” The three others nod along with me. I’m not sure if they agree, or are just content to follow my leadership, but I’m encouraged they aren’t calling me crazy for delaying our re-entry into civilization.

After an hour, we walk out of the group of trees, leaving our backpacks and wheelbarrow snugly hidden from any searching eyes. I can’t help but hope that I won’t have to return.

As we creep forward slowly, hunched over in the tall grasses, I catch a glimpse of the buildings, closer than I was expecting. We travelled faster than I thought.

I motion silently for the others to stop, and they pull up right behind me. Almost as one, we each straighten up slightly, sticking our heads out of the top of the grass.

I don’t hear anything from the town. The quiet stillness is eerie -- even in a country town this far from the city, you’ll almost always hear the quiet thrum of civilization. Engine noises, planes flying overhead, laughing kids. Anything but the complete silence we currently hear, broken only by the rustling of the grasses in the occasional breeze.

Any serenity I may have felt earlier playing I Spy is completely gone. My heart beats like a drum in my chest, and part of me wants to turn right back around and hike back to our cabin in the woods.

But we can’t. That’s just the fear talking. And I made a decision, what seemed like so long ago when I first found my classmates. Fear doesn’t make my choices. Sure, it gets a seat at the table -- it would be foolish to completely ignore my fears. But I can’t let fear alone dictate anything.

We need to find other people. And if we can’t find other people in this town, we need to know what happened to them, where they went, and how we can find people somewhere else. We need information. But above all, we need to play it safe and stick together.

“Ok everyone.” They are all crouched, looking at me expectantly. I take the spike of fear that rises when I see their faith in me, pushing it deep under all my other more realistic fears. “We need to go further in. We do this the same way we did the farm earlier: Pallas watch our tails, and we go in slow and silent. Keep your heads down. Questions? Suggestions?”

“What happens if we find someone?” Styx asks, and then hesitates before continuing. “...or something?”

I look into her eyes, trying to instill a confidence I don’t have. “When we find someone, we’ll go up and talk to them. We’ll still be quiet about it and stick together, but there’s no reason to hide from other people.” I take a deep breath. “If we see a… monster, we get out. If it doesn’t see us, we hide. If it does, then we retreat.” I purposely use the word ‘retreat’ instead of ‘run like the devil.’ “Even if we can kill it, I don’t want to start a loud fight when there could be even more monsters around. We stay quiet, no matter what.”

“And we stick together.” Pallas says, echoing my earlier thoughts.

“Of course” Melete scoffs, as Styx nods along.

I blink quickly. Of course we stick together. Despite the tension, I can’t hold back a small grin as I turn and lead our group through the fence at the edge of the field and to the corner of the first building.

We’re about six buildings into our exploratory mission. I peek my head around the corner of the latest building and quickly scan the surroundings. Nothing.

I survey the area one more time before I turn back to my friends, and whisper.

“Gas station across the street. Meet against the wall that’s facing us, the one in shadow. I’ll lead, Pallas bring up the rear.” Styx and Melete give me a nod. Pallas is dutifully facing the opposite direction, ensuring nothing can catch us unawares, but he quickly glances to me and gives me a thumbs up.

I take a deep breath, turn back to the building I pointed out earlier, and awkwardly run across the street. I try to step quietly, keep my profile as low as possible, and still maintain my speed. This results in a strange, shambling shuffle that looks, and feels, uncomfortable. But I’m paranoid enough to bear with it -- and it definitely is more graceful than my first sneaking run across a road a few houses back.

We meet up against the gas station, and I peek through one of the windows. We haven’t gone into any of the buildings yet, as I’m not sure I’m ready to go back into an enclosed space until we’ve thoroughly explored more of the town. But as I peek into the windows at the aisles of beef jerky and other junk food, I’m tempted to take a quick pit stop. The other buildings we’ve passed were a mechanic, a doctor’s office, and other various businesses -- nothing as tempting as the smorgasboarg of snacks available in this gas station.

I shake my head, dismissing the errant thought. There will be time for that later. First, we need to find other people. Or at least find what happened to them.

As we round the back side of the gas station, an entirely new set of buildings appear which look to be homes.

I pick out one of the houses for us to run too next, only to feel Styx’s hand clamp down on my left forearm. I stifle a grunt as her nails dig into the still tender scar from my first battle with the dog monster. I turn to her angrily, only to freeze as I see her wide eyes and finger pressed to her lips.

I stop, and I listen.

Thump.

It is very faint. So faint I don’t think I would have noticed unless Styx had forced me to focus on my hearing. It sounds like it is coming from the other side of the house. From where we’re crouched now, if it circles around the front of the house, it won’t easily be able to see us, so for now, we wait.

Styx’s hand slips down to grasp my hand instead of my forearm, her grip painful as her nails dig into my skin. I don’t complain though, and I’m sure I am squeezing her hand just as hard.

Thump.

From the other side of the house, we hear a sudden roar, blasting through the previous silence. After only a second, it is joined by an even louder roar.

THUMP.

The loudest noise yet echoes through the town. I can feel that last noise with more than just my ears, as if it is shaking the very ground beneath my feet.

Everything in me wants to run. The adrenaline in my veins screams at me to choose flight over fight, that there’s nothing to be gained here.

But we still wait, standing stock still, peeking around the corner of the gas station. We need more information, and we can’t just run at the first ambiguous noises.

As I’m thinking this, the source of those ambiguous noises is finally revealed. Another troll monster.

This one is even bigger than the one we killed back at the barn -- standing almost ten feet tall, with small tusks protruding from the corners of its mouth, it lopes on all fours away from the house, into the center of the street.

Seconds later another troll monster appears chasing it -- slightly smaller than the first, but still huge, with tusks over a foot long. It continuously roars at the first monster.

The first stops in the middle of the intersection, still in our field of view, and turns back to face the chasing troll monster. When the first turns, the second pauses its charge only feet away. They stare into each other's eyes standing on their hind feet and release alternating roars.

They continue like this for what seems like an eternity but likely is no more than fifteen seconds. Spittle flies from their mouths, and the roaring reaches a crescendo before the larger of the two takes a short step forward. The second monster finally turns and retreats.

The first chases it for two large steps before it stops, staring after it for another few seconds before it finally turns away and brings a giant fist to its mouth.

I notice what I missed earlier, distracted by the confrontation: in the right hand of the remaining monster is a bundle of fur. As the troll monster tears off a huge hunk of the bundle with its teeth, I am able to identify it. It’s the remains of a dog -- not a dog monster, as the fur is more blonde than it is mottled grey, but just a regular pet dog. Maybe a golden retriever, judging from the color and size.

The monster in the street starts to turn, and I frantically pull my head back around the corner of the gas station. I don’t think it was able to see me -- it hadn’t turned it’s head quick enough for that -- but I realize we need to get out of here. Now.

I don’t know how sensitive the other senses of those troll monsters are, but I can’t imagine hiding is a better option than running -- we’ll have to run eventually, and there is no better time than when the troll monster’s sense of smell is clouded with the corpse of the dog monster.

I turn to my friends. Pallas is dutifully watching for anything from the other direction, but from the way his hands are clenched and how pale his face is, he clearly at least suspects what we just saw.

Melete is sitting with her back against the wall, head in her hands and eyes closed. I look down to my hand, which still clutches tightly to Styx’s hand, before she lets go to crouch down next to Melete and whisper something in her ear.

“Let’s go,” I whisper, so faint that I can barely hear myself. I doubt the others were able to hear, much less understand my words, but my intent is clearly conveyed by my hand gestures and the fear in my eyes. Styx has managed to get Melete back on her feet with at least the appearance of functionality. Looking into Melete’s eyes, I can see that something is very clearly wrong -- she’s not okay, and it will take just a small push to send her tumbling back over the edge.

But I don’t have time to worry about that for now. We shamble over to the other corner of the gas station, before dashing to the back of the next building.

Our retreat from the town is much less organized than our approach, but we don’t see any other monsters and we eventually make it back to the fence at the edge of the field. Ten minutes of running later we finally collapse into our copse of trees and bushes.

Thirty minutes pass, and my breathing has finally recovered, although my heart rate has yet to completely calm. Since the gas station, not a word has been spoken. I’m not sure what is going through the heads of my silent companions, but I eventually voice the thoughts that have been running circles in my head.

“We’ve been doing this wrong.” I’m scared to make eye contact, so I stare down at my palms instead. “This is big.”

I glance up, only to see the questioning stares of my three classmates, and I elaborate, “Everything we’ve been doing, every step we’ve taken...it’s been so that we can get back to civilization, so that we can get back to authorities who can take care of us, who can take care of THIS.” I gesture to my left arm, then extend my gesture to encompass the world surrounding us.

“But...this is bigger than that. What if there aren’t any ‘authorities’ to take care of this? What if everywhere is facing the same problems we’ve been facing? Or even bigger problems?”

I take a deep breath, ready to say out loud what I’ve been scared to even consider for the last week. The thought that I had rejected and subsequently ignored as far back as my first glimpse of the burnt down cabin.

“I think...this is the end. We’re on our own. We can’t just count on someone else saving us from this. We need to treat this like it is…” My throat catches, and I struggle to get out the final word. “...permanent.”

At that last statement, I look down to my left arm, and with only a slight hesitation I add one hundred and fifty to my wisdom Number.

S: 89 (+1)

D: 53 (+1)

W: 202 (+151)

I: 40 (+1)

C: 51

26 (-150)

Skills: Adjust:Self