“Sir? About the monsters?”

“Animals, Alan, they’re animals. Don’t get hysterical on me,” Johnson said. “And Mr. Kemp has a report for us, right now.”

“Thank you sir,” Kemp said as he stood from his chair around the conference table. “Although I must disagree, at least somewhat: these aren’t just normal animals.”

Johnson’s perpetual frown deepened. “Explain.”

Kemp shuffled through the papers on the table in front of him until he found the appropriate report, passing it to the president. “While many do bear a striking resemblance to animals that can be found around the world, the nature of some of the creatures we’ve observed violate the very laws of physics we believe to be inviolate.”

Upon seeing the skeptical look on the president’s face, Kemp flipped through the report in front of Johnson until finding the correct page, pointing to the image. “Take this one, for example. Our scientists dissected it after our troops killed it in Allarkas, took near fifty rounds to the chest before it finally dropped. It was ripped apart, but from what was left: no organs, no veins or blood, no nervous system. The head researcher almost didn’t believe it, suspected we were messing with him and just gave him a solid block of rubber to dissect.”

Johnson still wasn’t convinced. “So? What about jellyfish? There are plenty of weird animals out there that don’t fit normal classifications. Doesn’t mean they aren’t animals.”

Kemp sighed. “Maybe so, sir. And it is true, many of the monsters exhibit normal animal behavior: territorial, aggressive if provoked, but otherwise peaceful. But one thing separates every single creature that we have so far seen from any animal native to earth: without exception, every single one of these new monsters has Numbers.”

- President Johnson, Inclusion +2 days 08:11 hours

We’ve entered the suburbs of Bothell.

I’m not sure how far we have yet to go before we make it to the city center of Bothell. While most of us in the group have made trips to or through Bothell before, travelling the distance on foot makes me realize how little I paid attention during those drives.

But now that we’ve finally started to pass isolated houses, it can’t be more than an hour before we’ll arrive at the town proper.

I fight against my rising apprehension, urging my muscles to relax as I lead the way. I’m not sure how well my attempts at confidence appear. Most of my attention is focused through my bonds at keeping watch. As much as I want Ms. Kathy and the twins to be relaxed, I’ll not sacrifice our security for the sake of projecting false confidence.

They must have picked up on at least some of our apprehension, the twins unnaturally silent as we walk down the road.

“Humans,” I hear Sam say from where he’s scouted ahead. “Around the next curve. One hundred yards, on the right side.”

I nod, make sure my weapon is available and easy to grab, and continue onward.

We see the people before they see us. Two men in military fatigues, each carrying rifles held loosely in their hands. They appear relaxed, resting on the front porch of the house to the right of the road. “Guns. Pallas, you’re up,” I whisper.

Pallas nods, making sure the strap for his appropriated shotgun is secure over his shoulder, and steps forwards. The rest of us step back out of view from the men as I follow Pallas through my bond.

“Hello!” Pallas yells in his deep voice, and the two men immediately tense, raising their rifles. I can practically feel his tension through my bond, knowing he’s ready to activate his skill the moment a barrel points his direction. “Looking for Bothell. Any news for us?”

I wince and Pallas’ use of the word ‘us’, but don’t say anything through the bond. Now isn’t the time to distract him.

The men relax after observing Pallas’ form, although I notice neither of them completely let go of their weapons. “More refugees?” the man on the right asks. After Pallas nods, he continues. “Continue up the road. Go through the checkpoint, can’t miss it, the guard there will tell you everything you need to know.” The men lower themselves back to the ground, in clear dismissal.

“Thanks,” Pallas says.

It’s less information than I’d hoped for, but better than nothing. We know there’s enough humans at Bothell to set up a ‘checkpoint’ and that they’re not surprised to see refugees, which is good. Of course, they could still be like Fort Carscott, but unless we take the occasional risk, we’ll get nowhere.

I lead the rest of our group to join Pallas up the road. The two men don’t look surprised to see the rest of our group, although they do look curiously at the twins. Do they not have very many kids in Bothell?

We continue up the road without issue. As the houses get closer together, we see movement in the windows of a few of them, but pass without encountering anyone.

Remember, I say through my bonds to the twins and Ms. Kathy, if we have to run away, we’ll find you at our campsite yesterday. Do you remember how to get there?

Each of the twins nod earnestly. We made sure to thoroughly explain our plan in case of emergencies earlier this morning, but it can’t hurt to remind the twins to pay attention to the route back along the steps we take.

Eventually, we come to the ‘checkpoint.’ Similarly to Carscott, there’s a makeshift wall of cars between the buildings. A bus is parked to the side of the checkpoint, which I presume can easily be moved across the opening in an emergency. But for the moment, the road in front of us is clear.

“Haven’t seen you before,” a man in military fatigues standing beside the entrance yells in greeting as we approach. While he’s watchful, he doesn’t appear surprised or worried by our sudden appearance. “New refugees?”

“Yep!” Melete says in response. “Left Clayton a week ago.” While I still question the wisdom of the decision to make Melete our group’s spokeswoman, she does have the highest charisma. And since encountering Ms. Kathy and the twins her Melete-ness has certainly been toned down.

The guard’s eyebrows raise. “Been a while since we’ve had anyone from Clayton. One minute,” the guard turns to the gas station adjacent to the checkpoint and yells. “Johnson! Get the refugee forms!”

“Forms?” Melete asks after a prompt through my bond.

“Yeah. World ends, and there’s still paperwork to be done. Wouldn’t ya figure. Don’t worry, it doesn’t take long, as long as Johnson gets off his lazy a--” The man glances to the twins staring innocently at him, then at the disapproving frown Ms. Kathy is directing his way. “--butt. His lazy butt, then we can get this done and get you inside.”

I hold back a laugh. Ms. Kathy may be one of the sweetest old ladies I’ve ever met, but she sure can throw a glare.

After another minute of waiting, along with another shout from the man who introduces himself as Taylor, each of us are led into the gas station by the aforementioned Johnson, where a table and chairs is set up, along with a pile of forms.

“...is all this really necessary?” Melete says, batting her eyes at the soldier.

“Yes,” he replies, not even looking her way. Melete pouts.

We all sigh and get to work.

Ten minutes later, all the forms are finished, Ms. Kathy filling out the information for the bored twins as dependents on her own form. The information is all standard stuff for governmental forms, asking for our names, address, and practically everything else about us. I’m not sure how useful the address for my destroyed house in Clayton might be, but I dutifully write it out anyway, along with my real name of ‘Jason Granby.’

Only for the section asking for ‘Numbers’ do I lie, lowering my intelligence and wisdom Numbers by two hundred each. Everyone else lists their true Numbers, as they can’t hide the truth if Johnson decides to check, and we don’t want to be caught in a lie before even entering the town.

Johnson collects the papers without looking at them, sliding them into a manilla folder. “Just one more set of forms, and I’m afraid I’ll have to manually verify this one. Don’t worry though, we won’t treat you any differently if you’re one of the changed, we just need to have it on record.” We must look apprehensive as Johnson passes out a new set of papers, these ones clearly different from the standardized governmental papers, because Johnson pulls up the right sleeve on his jacket to show a skill tattoo on his arm.

The paper he hands us just has three blanks: name, skills, and description of skills.

I hold back a sigh. With a quick motion, I lift the right sleeve of my jacket, displaying my blank right forearm. Ms. Kathy and the twins each follow my example without a word, a cursory glance from Johnson verifying the skin on each of our arms is clear.

Melete, Pallas, and Styx glance at each other before raising their sleeves in unison.

“Oh wow, one skill apiece. Just answer on this form then,” Johnson says, passing each of them one of the papers in his hands, “and you’ll be good to go.”

In a few minutes they finish with the forms and Johnson dismisses us from the gas station-turned-office.

“Get everything done?” Taylor asks after we exit, to our nods. “Let me just go over the rules then. No fighting, stealing, or anything like that. If it was illegal before, then it’s still illegal in Bothell, with a few exceptions. We aren’t going to be checking for any licenses for your gun or other weapons, but don’t go discharging it inside Bothell. Outside of the walls, you’re welcome to scavenge anything you can find, and we’ll even pay you if you find anything good or pass along useful intel -- just know that most of the nearby buildings have been picked clean, and we can’t guarantee your safety out here, so do it at your own risk. There’s free meals twice a day in the rec center on the east side of town, and you can get shelter there if you can’t get another building or tent. Hm, is there anything else I’m forgetting?”

Why is he asking us? But Pallas is the one who answers.

“Any way to see who else might be here? Or who might have passed through?”

The soldier’s mood noticeably drops. “Ah yeah, sorry. Check the rec center for that too. People have left messages there. If you can’t find what you need, go to the police station off of main street, and we can check our records for you as well.”

With those final words, Taylor waves us forward. With only a single, subtle wave back in the direction of the invisible Sam, we enter the city of Bothell.

As a group, we walk through the streets of Bothell.

I guard the right side while Pallas walks on the left, Melete watches our rear, and Styx leads. Ms. Kathy and the twins walk in the center of our formation, eyes wide as they stare at the surroundings.

Two kids dash across the road ahead of us with a giggle, both chasing a soccer ball, and I flinch back, hand on my fire poker. Through my bonds I feel the others react similarly, and I can sense their tension.

Easy guys, I say, as much for my own benefit as for theirs. I think we can relax a little bit.

Unfortunately, that’s easier said than done.

Bothell is loud.

People walk along the road, yelling greetings to friends and neighbors as they pass by. A young girl cries over a skinned knee, an older woman consoling her. A teenager, almost our age, laughs loudly with a similarly aged group of kids.

It isn’t crowded, at least not by the standards of the world before the inclusion. Any shopping mall on the weekend would be ten times as packed, with a lot more noise and busyness.

But after spending so long in the quiet wilderness, our only interactions with each other, the people of Fort Carscott, and Ms. Kathy and the twins, this much activity is overwhelming.

I force myself to release my grip on the handle of my knife. This isn’t the wilderness, where any noise that I can’t identify the source of needs to be treated as a threat. We’re safe here.

The twins, at least, appear to be adjusting easier. They follow the kids with the ball with their eyes before turning to Ms. Kathy, a pleading look on their faces.

“Not right now,” she says sternly. “We need to get some other stuff taken care of first. A place to stay, some food. There’ll be plenty of time for playing later.”

Is this...it?

I have a hard time wrapping my head around Ms. Kathy’s words and their obvious implications. Are we really done?

Deep down, I don’t think I ever truly believed that Bothell would represent any sort of safety. Somehow, somewhere along the way, my quest for ‘home’ had turned into home itself. How can it all just...end?

What if Styx and Pallas find their families? Melete has Ms. Kathy and the twins. Who will I be left with?

I breathe deeply, attempting to calm my racing heart. Focus. We still don’t know anything. I can’t get ahead of myself.

Styx is asking for directions to the rec center, which the woman to the side of the road helpfully provides. In no time at all, we arrive.

In no time at all we make it to the large building. Just outside the entrance an older woman sits at a desk.

“I haven’t seen you around before! I’m Janice, what can I help you with?” she says.

“Hello Janice,” Melete says. Janice appears surprised that Ms. Kathy isn’t the one speaking for our group, but returns Melete’s smile with a friendly one of her own. “We just got here. We were told this was the place to be for pretty much everything?”

“You were told right. We’ve got the cafeteria down this hallway where you can get some food for free. Though if you’ve got anything to trade, there’s also some restaurants and food stalls around town. Much better than what you get here, but you’ve got to pay for it. The market is in the gymnasium, you can get pretty much anything there, for the right price. Do you have a place to stay, yet?”

“Not yet,” Melete answers, “but...we might have had some family come before us? We were told there was a way to check?”

Janice’s smile dims. “Ah, yes, the wall. It’s also in the gymnasium, down that hallway. You can’t miss it.” She hesitates. “Don’t give up, but...don’t get your hopes up, either. If you can’t find them, or if they can’t fit all of you, let me know and we can find a place for you to stay.”

“Of course, thank you!” Melete says. During the conversation, a few people have entered and walked around us down the various hallways, waving cheerfully to Janice as they pass. We take a few steps away from her desk to a corner of the room where we won’t be in the way. “So what next?” Melete asks. Everyone’s eyes turn to me. Through my bond, I can feel Pallas and Styx’s longing.

“We split up,” I say. “Melete, Ms. Kathy, the twins, and I will go get some food at the cafeteria. Styx and Pallas go check out the board, see what you can find. Stick together. It looks like this place is safe, but let’s not tempt fate. I’ll keep my bonds with you. If you need anything, let me know. Meet back here in two hours.”

Everyone nods, content with my decisions. Pallas and Styx hurry down the opposite hallway at a significantly faster pace than what we had been keeping earlier.

I sigh as they walk away, turning down a second hallway with what’s left of our group.

It’s okay. We can still check at the police station, I send through my bond to Styx.

She doesn’t respond.

It’s been three hours since we separated, and we wait in the cafeteria for Styx to cross the small town and join us.

There’s a small play-place in the corner of the cafeteria stocked with toys, magazines, and over a dozen screaming children. Hyper and Phoebe are older than the majority of the other kids, but they don’t hesitate to join in on the fun after a simple nod from Ms. Kathy, running in circles with their new friends.

The free ‘meal’ was just a simple vegetable broth, weak and unfilling, but I suppose it was better than nothing, especially considering the price.

Despite food that isn’t nearly as high quality as what could be found in Carscott, the people here seem much more relaxed. Freer, without any hidden tension that they could be killed by monsters at any moment. I do hear an occasional gunshot sound in the distance, but no one reacts to the muffled noises.

They look like normal people just living their lives. Different lives from what they had been living a month earlier, yet not so different that they are unrecognizable. They chat about their days, they laugh at jokes, and generally just enjoy each other’s company.

It feels wrong.

Ms. Kathy has moved to a different table, already fast friends with another lady close to her own age. Melete sits across the table from me and watches the playing twins, humming quietly under her breath.

How can life be so normal? So many people are dead. My parents are still dead. How can everything go on as if it didn’t happen?

My feelings are reinforced by what I sense through my bond with Styx as she makes her way through the city, staring at the ground.

She and Pallas found the ‘wall’ without issue. Aptly named, one of the massive sides of the gymnasium is absolutely filled with push-pinned papers. Notes, letters, pictures, the area is a mix of a humongous message board and a shrine to those who are lost. It would take hours to search the whole thing for anything useful, but thankfully someone has formed a long list just next to the wall, separated from the main portion by a few empty feet. The list compiles any names posted to the wall, along with the locations of those names on the wall so that people can find the original messages left for them.

It only took thirty seconds for Pallas to find his own name.

Styx searched for twenty minutes for her own or anyone else’s in her family before finally being persuaded to follow the impatient Pallas to the address listed under his message.

And at the address he found his family.

Mother, father, and brother, all alive and well, smothering him with hugs and kisses the moment he crossed the threshold. His pure joy through the bond overwhelmed my own melancholy for a few minutes when I smilingly relayed Pallas’ success to Melete.

Eventually, his family calmed themselves enough to hear Pallas’ story and be introduced to Styx, who they greeted with almost as much enthusiasm, Pallas’ younger brother elbowing Pallas with a suggestive look in his eye. Styx bore with their hospitality bravely as Pallas recounted our journeys and trials, demonstrating his acquired skill, but after two hours she finally couldn’t bear it any more.

She graciously excused herself, telling Pallas’ mom that of course all of us would visit once we have a place set up. They live in a small trailer, not nearly big enough for all seven of us, but with plenty of space to fit their long-lost son.

I can’t blame Styx for splitting up with Pallas. Only a few minutes after she left I cut off my bond with him, saying I wanted to give him and his family the privacy they deserve.

Bothell is safe, and we will visit his home later to reunite the group.

That is, if there even is a group any more.

S: 163

D: 186

W: 402

I: 400

C: 100

0

Skills: Adjust:Self, Bond:Mental