Sasha ducked into the shadows of the alley and pressed himself against the wall, hoping he wasn’t spotted. Minutes passed as he caught his breath, until finally he exhaled and stepped away from the wall in relief. Despite putting almost all of his Numbers into dexterity, only sparing a third for strength, once again he was almost too slow.

But what else could he do? The monsters were getting tougher, and no matter how many of them he killed, there always seemed to be more waiting. He needed to kill more to have a hope of keeping up with their growing threat, but it was getting harder and harder to injure them with his knife, much less with his bare hands.

And no way was Sasha going to use his gun, taken from its hiding place in his uncle’s empty flat. It was a last resort weapon only -- Sasha had seen what had happened to the people who relied on guns.

For the first monster, guns worked great. Easy Numbers. But guns were noisy, and the city was lousy with monsters. You may be able to kill the first monster, but the second? The fifth? And what happened when one appeared that wasn’t hurt by bullets? If Sasha hadn’t gained the Numbers from killing monsters with his knife, he wouldn’t have been fast enough to escape when that strange, cloying cloud tried to choke him.

Sasha took a deep breath, pushing away the fear and tears that threatened to spill whenever he took the time to actually think about his situation. He needed to be stronger. And to be stronger, he needed to kill. It was as simple as that.

It was time to hunt.

- Sasha, Inclusion +7 days 09:53 hours

I may have been premature in my declaration of having ‘arrived’ at Clayton. While whoever previously lived in the house we’re exploring likely would have claimed Clayton as their hometown to strangers while on vacation, technically we’re in one of the numerous small suburbs surrounding the city.

The house is a large one: three stories with multiple balconies and a long pull-through driveway in front. It is surrounded by an even larger yard, but not one that looks to have been used for any purpose other than decoration. The fancy-shaped bushes imply that at one point it was immaculately maintained, but the last few weeks without maintenance have left it looking eerily abandoned. A high fence separates the yard from the adjacent houses. Unfortunately, the fence is more useful for privacy than for actual security, and the house has already been cleaned out.

We carefully navigate through each room, skills ready and on the alert for any attack. But after exploring the first few rooms, we allow ourselves to relax, as the trashing of the place looks to be the result of looters rather than monsters. All of the cabinets and drawers are open, in some cases the contents littering the floor around them. The kitchen and pantry look to have been hit especially hard, the lukewarm fridge almost completely empty.

“Ugh, no water in this one either,” Melete says as she turns both the hot and cold water faucets above the sink. After an initial gurgle and a few drips, nothing comes out.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say all the water in the house comes from the same source, and if one doesn’t work, none of them will,” Styx says from the entrance to the bathroom. Pallas, Sam, and I are in the hallway keeping watch.

Melete moves on to the toilet, shifting the heavy ceramic covering over the back, and lets out a squeal. “Score! Looks like we’ve got at least one flush left.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Styx breathes out a sigh of relief at Melete’s exclamation, and I struggle to contain my laugh. I feel bad, as I’m also thoroughly done with rationing toilet paper as I squat behind trees, but something about the desperate relief in Styx’s voice strikes me as funny.

“Pass me the water bottles!” Melete says from next to the toilet. When Pallas and I just look at her in confusion, she gestures impatiently with her arms. “The water in the tank should be clean. Well, mostly clean. As clean as what we’ve been drinking for the last few days, at least.”

“Really?” I ask skeptically, but Pallas has already taken his backpack off and is digging through it for the two now completely empty bottles.

“Actually, I’ve heard that too,” Styx contributes, and I decide to trust my friends. And as parched as I am, I’m willing to risk a small amount of contamination.

By the time we each drink our fill and top off the bottles, the tank is almost completely empty. This doesn’t stop Melete from forcing us out and using the bathroom in another way, claiming that, ‘a half-flush is all she needs anyway.’

We explore the rest of the house without incident. After sweeping the entirety of the house and finding no monsters, we split up to gather supplies, reconvening in the living room a half-hour later.

Melete sits on the ground, in deep thought as she stares at an array of six different kitchen knives in front of her, carefully feeling the edges and gauging which are the optimal weight. Styx has let Melete know that she can only keep two of them, claiming dibs on the best of whatever’s left.

The rest of us are situated around the rest of our supplies, deciding how to pack our new possessions.

“I mean, I know it’s bigger than the other one, and the extra pockets are certainly nice to keep things organized. But what if it gets in the way while I’m trying to fight?” I ask. I slide the first of the two bags over my shoulder, experimentally swinging my arms as if stabbing a dog-monster with an invisible knife.

“It looks like the strap tightens though, which should help keep it secure,” Styx points out helpfully. I grunt noncommittally as I adjust the tightness and swing my arms again, jumping in place. “And besides, that other one is a kid’s backpack. Can you even get it over your shoulders?”

“An older kid’s though,” I say defensively, switching to try on the second pack. Styx is right, it is a kid’s backpack, bright red with a cartoon character I don’t recognize emblazoned on the back. It does feel strange, riding much higher on my back than I’m used to, but I’m hesitant to accept the first bag.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a mischievous smile form on Styx’s face. “If you’re worried about the style, I think you look really fashionable with the purse.”

“It’s a handbag,” I say defensively, switching back to the first bag. It only has a single strap that goes over my head on my opposite shoulder, and though the colors are gender-neutral, it does bear a certain resemblance to a purse.

“Yes. And the handbag matches your eyes. Really makes them pop. You should choose it,” Pallas says as Styx stifles her giggles.

I close my eyes and groan as Melete chimes in. “Go with the purse. Owlette is definitely not your style.”

“Fiiiine,” I groan and sit back down, packing my new bag to the laughter of my friends. But I smile with them, content to enjoy the good-natured teasing.

While I understand that there’s nothing about the house that is actually any safer than the wilderness from attacking monsters, being surrounded by walls and the veneer of civilization is calming in a way I can’t completely describe. Even as Melete chooses her knives and passes the remaining over to Styx, I can almost imagine I’m back in school, working on a group project with the friends I never had at CNA.

I’m once again wearing a pair of jeans. They’re a few sizes too big, but with a belt and after rolling up the legs a few inches I can barely feel the difference. The shoes are also just a bit too big, but I’ve managed to find a pair of running shoes that are flexible, allowing me to pull the laces until my feet once again feel snug and protected.

Pallas and Styx have each grabbed new bags, Styx’s an over-the-shoulder like my own, while Melete has taken the old backpack. Unfortunately, with the exception of a fancy-looking car and another emptied out fridge, the garage is empty, so Pallas is stuck with his increasingly dull axe, while I’ve claimed a fire poker as my new weapon of choice.

While almost all of the food has been cleaned out, there still are some supplies left to claim. Pallas found a bag of potatoes and some raw onions in a dark corner of the pantry, which once we get a fire going will make for a wonderful meal. We’re currently picking around the moldy edges of hamburger buns for an afternoon snack.

“Where to next?’ Melete asks from where she’s lounging on the couch, looking in my direction.

I don’t bother to open up the map before responding. “That’s what we’ve got to figure out. Our map doesn’t have any detail of Clayton itself, so I’m flying blind right now.”

“We were traveling more or less due west since the river, right?” Styx asks, to which I nod in answer. “So we should be on the east side of Clayton. I’m guessing you all also lived on the north side?”

Melete and I nod, while Pallas replies with a simple, “North-east side.”

“Should be simple then,” Styx continues, “we just head north until we leave Clayton and turn west, or until we see something we recognize. “

I grimace. While the plan isn’t bad, it definitely isn’t as precise as I would have hoped for. I’m optimistic that we can find another, more detailed map once we get a chance to raid another gas station, but I force myself to temper my expectations. A detailed city map won’t be as common as our more general county map.

“Ahem,” Sam says from where it’s crouched in a corner, the sound similar to the clearing of a throat, but obviously an affectation used to get our attention given Sam’s lack of any actual throat to clear. “If this is a much higher population center than the previous towns of Aliston and Carscott, as you have implied…?”

“It is. At least ten times larger than Carscott, probably more,” Styx says.

“In that case, I would strongly recommend staying on the outskirts. Creatures would have been much more heavily drawn to the city than to the countryside, and the higher population means a much larger supply of Numbers. Creatures will likely be much more powerful the closer to the center of the city we go.”

At least that reinforces Styx’s plan. Unless we’re at the extreme south side of the city right now, heading directly north should keep us on the edge of the suburbs, where the population was much lower.

“...what do you think we’ll find?” Pallas asks, his voice quiet.

There’s no need to ask what he’s talking about. It’s the question I’ve been avoiding for hours, now that we’re finally almost home.

Will there be any home waiting for us?

Our small group has stuck together through monsters, malicious humans, and literal flames. We’ve fought and bled for one another. All for the purpose of making it back to our homes and families in Clayton. But now that we’re almost here, to a city that clearly is heavily affected by the same apocalypse we’ve barely been surviving, I’m afraid to ask the question: what’s next? What happens if we no longer have our families to chase, the illusion of future safety and comfort?

“I don’t know,” I finally say in answer to Pallas’ question, and no one else has a better answer.

We sit in silence, snacking on our meager rations as afternoon turns to evening. We decide to spend the night in this house, enjoying the fleeting comforts of civilization after days spent entirely in the wilderness. So close to our goal for so long, I’m content to waste an afternoon simply recuperating.

Because I’m terrified of what we’ll find when we reach our goal.

S: 153

D: 144

W: 389

I: 359 (+7)

C: 100

0 (+7)(-7)

Skills: Adjust:Self, Bond:Mental