Daughton waited on the bench for the girl. Every day, they had taken to meeting, at almost the same time. Every time, she had something new to share.

Sometimes it was useful. Which of his soldiers would be attacked. What citizen was hiding a dangerous skill. What the weather would be like tomorrow.

Sometimes it was less useful. What relationship would soon fall apart. Who was going to have a lucky haul scavenging tomorrow. What the restaurant off of 4th and Main would be serving for dinner.

Either way, Daughton would listen, hoping for more of the useful. Every soldier knew good intel was vital for the success of the mission, and though his source was unusual, it unquestionably was reliable. While it sometimes was overblown or misinterpreted, he hadn’t found any of the girl’s words to be entirely false.

Finally, she arrived, running up to him with tears in her eyes. This, by itself, wasn’t unusual. With the amount of things she claimed to see almost every moment of every day, Daughton was surprised she was even still sane.

What was unusual was the look on her face that accompanied her tears.

Daughton waited silently as she pulled herself up on the bench next to him and stared at him for a few seconds, eyes glowing bright orange.

Finally, she sniffled and looked away. “Three days, after dark.”

“Three days what?” Daughton asked, confused.

“Before you die,” the girl said, finality in her tone. “Before almost everyone dies.”

- Sgt. Daughton, Inclusion +32 days 09:38 hours

The next day, Ms. Kathy is invited by her new friend to help mend clothes, which she happily accepts, eager for the pay that will give access to food better than just the daily free broth for the twins. While she works, Melete keeps watch over the twins near our new home, an office building turned into housing after all the residential buildings within the ‘safe-zone’ had been claimed by refugees.

The military presence in Bothell is apparently headed by a Sergeant Daughton, who has turned the local police station into his headquarters until this crisis is resolved. And from the gossip Ms. Kathy gathers, that’s truly what most of the people of Bothell believe: that this is only a temporary crisis, likely caused by one foreign nation or another to destabilize our country in a fit of jealousy, and that it will only be a matter of time before the government gets everything resolved.

Their naivety astounds me. Even if everything that’s happened has just been a local phenomenon, which based on the lack of planes flying overhead for the last month seems extremely unlikely, multiple cities have been completely wiped out or abandoned. That’s not something that we can just ‘bounce back’ from.

The military presence in Bothell likely has a less naive view of reality, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at the police station. Aside from the few guards, the building is dull and quiet. A bored-looking woman at the front desk helps us with our query, the only emotion on her face coming after she tells us they have no record of anyone with Styx’s last name having passed through Bothell.

We walk away from the police building together, arms wrapped around each other in a side-hug. Styx sniffles quietly as I walk silently next to her, words seeming insufficient for the situation. I turn and hug her just a little tighter instead, hoping she can feel what I can’t manage to say out loud.

We walk through the town as if in a daze. For once, I don’t know what’s next. My knife sits unused in my belt, and no monsters wait around any corners.

Why is everything so much harder now that we’re surrounded by humans?

Eventually we make our way to the trailer that currently serves as Pallas’ home. We haven’t seen him since yesterday, the longest we’ve been separated since Carscott, and it feels strange not knowing exactly what’s going on in his life.

Hesitantly I knock on his door. After less than five seconds, it swings wide open, a young boy a year or two older than the twins standing on the other side. He stares at us before yelling over his shoulder. “Zed! Your girlfriend is cheating on you!”

My cheeks flush as Styx chuckles.

A few seconds later, Pallas stumbles to the door and makes a half-hearted grab for the dodging kid, who giggles and runs to the doorway on the other side of the room, sticking his tongue out in a taunt as Pallas shakes his head, visibly deciding it’s not worth chasing him.

“Hey Atlas, Styx,” he says in greeting. “Sorry about that, that’s my brother, Zach. Been here less than twenty-four hours and I’ve already forgotten why I missed him so much.”

“Love you too, bro!” Zach yells from the other side of the trailer.

A short rotund woman comes around the corner, drying her hands, “Oh, Styx, you’re back! And let me guess...Atlas?”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Zimmerman,” I say.

“And you as well. Why are they still outside, Zed? Invite them in!”

Pallas gestures with an open arm, and Styx and I sit next to each other on the small couch across from Pallas and his mom.

“So, did you find a place to live? Last I heard, housing was running out for the most recent refugees,” Pallas’ mom asks.

“Yeah, on the north side of the town. We got one of the offices there. We’ve got our own bedding, so it’s not too bad,” I answer.

“Don’t lie to me. I saw what my son was calling his ‘bed’ in that old backpack. That will have to be the first thing you trade for, once you get a bit more settled in,” she says. Then she turns to Styx, her eyes softening. “Any word on your parents, Styx dear?”

Styx takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “We checked at the station. They didn’t have any records of them.”

Mrs. Zimmerman understands exactly what this means. She crosses the room and kneels in front of Styx, pulling her into a hug. “I’m so sorry. We don’t have much room, but you’re always welcome here if you need anything at all. After everything you’ve done for my son, it’s the least we can do.” They stay like that for a moment before Mrs. Zimmerman pulls back. “And that goes for you, too, Atlas. Anything at all, let us know.”

I rub my head awkwardly, not entirely sure how to respond. “Thanks. There’s nothing right now, but I really appreciate it. We just came over to see how Pallas is doing.”

“Pall-- ah, you mean Zed. It’s still taking me a while to get used to these lower Numbers, harder to remember things than it used to be, you know. Oh! Why don’t you take Pallas and show him where you’re living now? You can all catch back up, and he’ll be able to find you later if he needs to?”

“Are you sure, ma?” Pallas asks worriedly.

“Pfft,” she says, waving her hand as if brushing away a fly. “I’ve had you to myself all day, I can’t begrudge your friends a few hours. Plus, I’ve seen your Numbers. I know you’ll be fine.” Pallas nods, although he still looks hesitant. “If it’ll make you feel better, why don’t you bring your brother? I’m sure he’ll love to meet the twins you were telling me about.”

“But moooom, they’re kids!” the kid complains from where he’s eavesdropping around the corner.

“Go put on your jacket! We don’t want to keep your brother’s friends waiting!” she yells back.

Thankfully, five minutes of small talk later we leave their trailer. Zach skips ahead of us with even more energy than the twins, incredibly, while Styx and I walk quietly with Pallas.

We’ve spent days walking together in complete and comfortable silence. Yet this short walk feels painfully awkward, the oppressive silence hanging over our group like a thundercloud. Now that we’re not alone I leave a few inches between Styx and myself, but after just a few steps down the street she closes the distance and leans against me.

Eventually we reach our new home and give Pallas a tour. There’s not much to show, just two offices next to each other that have been converted to our bedrooms, and a larger open floor that’s used as a common area for all the recently moved-in refugees. Despite his initial protests, after a quick introduction Zach is running around the common area with the twins hot on his heels, laughing.

“So, what’s next?” Melete asks. The four of us sit side-by-side with our backs to the wall, passing around our last bag of gummy snacks.

After a few beats, Pallas speaks up. Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder as we are, I can feel the vibrations from his deep, quiet voice.

“This wasn’t what I expected.”

“How so?” Melete asks.

Pallas stares straight ahead, his voice flat. “I...honestly didn’t think it would end, really. Didn’t think we’d finally find a place that was safe. And if we did...somehow I thought we’d find everyone waiting for us. That we’d all have a happy ending together. Not just me.”

Melete elbows him in his side. “We’re still together, aren’t we? A few times it didn’t even look like that was gonna happen, so I’d honestly say this is pretty happy, all things considered.”

Styx snorts, but she doesn’t refute Melete’s statement. Once again silence descends, but this time it isn’t quite as oppressive as on the walk over.

“Hey, Atlas,” Styx eventually asks. “Do you have a plan for Sam? I know you told it you’d check if it’s safe for it to enter, but have you decided anything?”

“Not sure,” I reply, tossing my second-to-last gummy into my mouth. “It’s not safe to sneak in here, for sure, there’s way too many people around for Sam to stay hidden. I was thinking about going out tomorrow and meeting with it, seeing if it wants me to try to arrange a meeting with the sergeant in charge.”

“You know…” Pallas begins, his voice slow. “My dad works as a ‘reclaimer,’ going out to salvage stuff from outside of the wall for Bothell. It can be dangerous if you’re alone, but having a team makes it much safer...”

Melete elbows him again. “Of course we’re going with Atlas. You didn’t think we’d let him meet with Sam alone?”

“Yeah, but I’m not just talking about tomorrow. Most places nearby are picked over, but apparently there’s some good stuff left if you go further out. One of the best ways to get supplies to trade. And we’ve got much higher Numbers than most, so it shouldn’t be nearly as dangerous for us. Should be pretty easy to make day trips out and back, at least compared to travelling across almost the entire state.”

Styx smiles. “Sounds like a good idea to me. I’ve got to find some way to make money. The broth this morning left a lot to be desired.”

Melete nods as she stretches her arms out above her head. “Count me in. It’s been almost two days since I last killed something, and I’m starting to get antsy.”

Styx fakes a look of horror. “Well, we should schedule the trip out to Sam ASAP, then. And make sure there’s something to kill while we’re out there. An antsy Melete...terrifying.”

Melete sticks her tongue out in Styx’s direction before all three of them turn to me.

I smile, and carefully set aside my last gummy for later.

Pallas’ parents aren’t nearly as happy with our decision to leave the safety of Bothell so soon after their family was reunited. Which I completely understand. I just wish Pallas’ dad hadn’t insisted so strongly on coming with us.

While Pallas told his family our story from the moment of the inclusion until our arrival in Bothell, it was a heavily edited tale. “Some parts aren’t mine to tell,” was the explanation he gave in response to his parents’ probing questions.

His parents aren’t stupid, and I’m sure they can guess that we possess skills we’re trying to keep at least somewhat hidden. But until Pallas’ dad sees us in action, he refuses to trust our safety to what he believes to be misplaced confidence, even after seeing a demonstration of Pallas’ skill. I don’t think he comprehends yet how powerful skills can be, and I’m certain he hasn’t the faintest inkling of Sam and the abilities it possesses.

I’m eager to prove him wrong. It’s just unfortunate that we have to keep Sam’s presence secret, as that will make part of this mission much harder than it would otherwise be.

I stand next to Styx by the same checkpoint we entered through, waiting for our friends.

Ms. Kathy returned to the same job again, so Pallas’ mom offered to watch the twins for us while we were gone, claiming “they couldn’t be any worse than Zach.” While there is apparently a nursery-slash-school in Bothell where we can safely leave the twins, I don’t think anyone in our group is ready to abandon them to complete strangers quite yet, even for just a few hours.

I tap my foot impatiently. “Melete was just going to drop off the twins and pick up Pallas and his dad. Why is it taking so long?”

“Just relax,” Styx answers. “It’s not just the four of us in the woods anymore. Other people have schedules too, you know.”

“I guess…” I say reluctantly, and make an effort to stay calm. I originally didn’t want to be the one to lead our small group, forced into the role out of necessity. But now that someone with actual leadership experience is going to be following us, watching our strategies and judging how we interact, I’m suddenly nervous that all my careful plans and instructions will fall short in his eyes.

Finally, I see Pallas’ large frame turn the corner down the road, followed by an even larger man. His dad is huge, at least six and a half feet of muscle, and behind him Melete looks even smaller in comparison.

“Hello,” Pallas’ dad says after they approach. “I’m Jeff Zimmerman. You must be Atlas.”

“Good to meet you, Mr. Zimmerman,” I say as his massive hand engulfs my own in a manly handshake. I met him two days ago through my bonds with Pallas and Styx, but he appears much bigger than I remember from their views.

“Don’t mind me, you all lead the way,” the man says. “I’m here for my wife, to make sure you stay safe.” Short and directly to the point -- I can see where Pallas gets it.

“Okay,” I say, and as a group we exit Bothell. There’s a simple sign-out board by the entrance used to keep track of who has left each day and their planned return time, similar to the records kept by trails in the backcountry before the inclusion, but Styx and I already filled it out for our group while waiting.

Once we’re out of earshot from any of the guards, about fifty yards from the entrance on the open road, I turn to Pallas’ dad. “First thing: I have a skill that lets me send messages to other people mentally and see whatever they see. I’m going to use it on you now, you’ll have to mentally accept it.”

Pallas’ dad looks dubious, at least until I say hello through our newly formed bond, at which point his eyes widen.

“Well that’s handy,” he says.

I nod. “Especially since your ears will need to be blocked. Melete has a skill that lets her voice hurt everything that hears it, and you’ll need to be prepared in case she uses it on short notice. Styx and I can ignore it with our skills, but you and Pallas will need earplugs.

Once again he looks dubious, but he accepts the earplugs from his son without a word.

“Our plan for today is mostly exploratory,” I say. “Mr. Zimmerman says that anything within a mile of Bothell is heavily picked over, and even further than that along the road. So we follow the road for about a mile before turning south. There should be a few secluded residential neighborhoods around there that might have some stuff for us. Mr. Zimmerman, what’s your Numbers investment look like?”

“Strength and dexterity each to one-fifty. Charisma to one hundred. Wisdom and intelligence both less than fifty.”

Huh. That’s more exact than what I was expecting. I just wanted to know what Numbers he had generally invested in since the inclusion. His total is much lower than any of ours, but with dexterity and strength as his primary investments, along with his frankly ridiculously muscular frame, he should be able to keep up in any physical confrontations.

“You and Pallas take the lead then. Styx on the right, I’ll be left, and Melete bring up the rear. You and Pallas be ready with the guns, but if the danger’s minimal Pallas and Styx will engage first up close. Priority is keeping monsters off of Melete, and we retreat around her if needed. Unless anyone has anything to add?” Everyone just shakes their heads silently, despite Melete pouting about once again being placed in the back. “Then let’s go.”

Pallas and his dad slide their earplugs in and take the lead at a fast walk. After spending the last week with Ms. Kathy and the twins, it feels good to move at a faster pace again. I notice Pallas’ dad glancing back a few times to make sure we’re all keeping up, but I don’t say anything.

Maintaining four bonds simultaneously for any extended length of time is unfortunately still slightly more than I can handle, so I bond with just Styx, Melete, and Pallas’ dad, figuring Pallas’ point of view overlaps quite a bit with my own and his dad’s.

After five minutes of walking, I notice a glowing yellow eye from the corner of Styx’s vision. Quietly I drop my bond with Melete and extend a bond to the Alatir I know is there.

Sam? I say after the bond connects. Pallas’ dad is with us. He doesn’t know about you. If you want to reveal yourself to him, let us know first and we can warn him.

“Maybe later, I will remain hidden for now. What are you all doing?” Sam asks, scuttling out from behind the building to follow us on the road a few yards back.

For the first time, I realize that I can’t hear Sam through any of my bonds. Which would make sense -- Sam uses its illusion ability to ‘speak’ directly to our minds rather than to any of our physical senses, so until my skill extends to mind-reading I won’t be able to ‘hear’ any words from Sam through my bonds.

I push aside the distracting epiphany and respond. We’re searching houses for supplies to loot. We have to get a certain distance away from Bothell to find anything good. And we wanted to update you on the situation in town.

“I will follow you then. I have been into several houses around here, and there has not been anything similar to what you have previously collected. Except in that house up to the left here, but there are three humans living there.”

I look at the house helpfully highlighted in red by Sam’s power.

Any reason why people would choose to live outside of the town? Because there are three living in the house coming up on the left. I say through my bonds, repeating it out loud for Melete’s sake. I really hope I’m able to easily bond with more people soon.

“Could be reclaimers who couldn’t make it back before night and camped out, but that’s unlikely this close to Bothell. Most likely it’s people who don’t want to follow the rules or military leadership. Are they there now?” Pallas’ dad says. He doesn’t question how I have my intel, which I’m thankful for.

Unknown, I relay Sam’s answer to the man.

“Probably not an issue. I’d recommend steering clear, but your call.”

Wow, Mr. Zimmerman was serious when he said he would let me lead. We’ll pass it by. Stay alert in all directions.

Luckily we pass the house without issue and continue on the road. After another ten minutes of hiking, I call for us to turn down a side-road which leads the direction we want to go.

The road turns windy after just a few minutes, but still leading the right direction. As we walk, I explain what we’ve found in Bothell to Sam.

...so probably not feasible for you to stay undetected while in town, not unless you can affect fifty people at a time.

“Unfortunately I am not strong enough alone to affect near that many, even if their wisdom Number is zero. Touching that many minds simultaneously is...challenging. But you mentioned a leadership? One which may be able to further formalize the Alatir’s alliance with humanity?”

Potentially. There’s a military presence here, which was part of the leadership structure of humanity before the inclusion. But I don’t know if they’re in communication with anyone higher up on the hierarchy to pass information up along to. If they don’t, an alliance with them would be more official than just with us four, but still nowhere near world- or even nationwide.

“Would the leaders here be amicable to an alliance?”

Maybe. There’s one guy in charge, supposedly. I’d like to meet him before you reveal yourself. Hard to judge how he might react, otherwise.

“That is fair. In the meantime, I can wait, hidden, outside of the town. How long do you plan on remaining before moving on?”

I pause, thinking, before eventually coming to a decision. That’s a little harder to answer. To be honest...maybe forever, or at least the foreseeable future. But it’s still been less than two days, so that might change.

“...I see,” Sam responds. Before we’re able to discuss it any further, Mr. Zimmerman interrupts our conversation.

“This is about the area where my group would normally start searching houses,” he says, probably louder than he should.

I nod, sending Sam a quick, We’ll talk more later, and say out loud, “We’ll start here, then, too. I’ll keep watch outside, Pallas lead, Styx in the rear. Carefully, everyone.” Sam follows them inside, ready to help if needed.

Although my skills are undoubtedly versatile and useful, they’re the weakest of our group’s when it comes to direct combat. Pallas is our best front-liner, able to tank any surprise attacks with his high strength, or dodge with his skill if necessary, while Melete has the best ability for destabilizing attackers. And Styx could probably beat the rest of us combined in close combat simply with her ridiculous speed and reflexes from her high dexterity Number.

And Mr. Zimmerman...well, Mr. Zimmerman has a gun, and knows how to use it.

Maybe it would be wiser to put the man with the gun on watch outside of the house, as it’s the best thing we have for any long-range confrontation. But the entire purpose of this trip, of bringing Mr. Zimmerman along, is to reassure him of our ability to survive outside the safety of Bothell’s walls. Leaving him on watch duty, separate from the group, defeats that purpose.

I sigh, and split my focus between following my friends through the house with my bonds and keeping watch.

Fifteen minutes pass uneventfully until my friends emerge from the house, gaining only a few rolls of toilet paper for their trouble, the majority of the building already raided of anything worthwhile.

“What are the odds of this next place having anything, since the last was so picked over?” Melete asks as we make our way to the next house in the neighborhood, and I relate her question through my bond to Pallas’ dad.

He shrugs. “Difficult to say. Could be that the original owners took everything, and this house will be full still. Or this whole block could have already been raided. Only way to find out is to check.”

I frown. With so many reclaimers in Bothell coming out to look for supplies, you’d think people would make some sort of map of what has already been searched. It would certainly avoid wasting effort.

Or maybe there are maps, but they just aren’t public knowledge? At the very least we’ll have to make a map of our own. Maybe we can talk to some of the other reclaimers, see if they’re willing to share or trade information.

I think through the options while I keep watch as everyone else enters the next house, carefully moving from room to room. Simultaneously, I appreciate the benefits of my increased intelligence Number.

I’m managing to keep watch, think through our current position as ‘reclaimers,’ and monitor the progress of my friends moving through the house through my bonds, without letting my focus slip in any of the areas. It’s a feat I wouldn’t have believed possible a month ago.

But now, it is possible. And it is the reason why, despite my distractions, I immediately notice the unnatural rustling of the leaves in the tree across the road.

We’ve got contact out here, guys, I send. Either a monster or a reaaaaaally big squirrel.

My companions don’t hesitate, regrouping at the front door in less than thirty seconds.

“Where is it?” Styx asks, her head whipping around to spy the monster.

“Only caught glimpses,” I reply, “but I think it’s a squirrel-opus. Only one.”

My friends’ shoulders relax at my declaration. “Normal strategy, then?” Styx asks.

“Works for me. I’ll keep a look-out for anything else that might crash the party.” Styx and Pallas step forward, Melete following a few steps behind, as I explain to Mr. Zimmerman. It’s a monster we’ve fought a few times on the road from Bothell, and isn’t much of a threat. No need to waste ammo, just stay back with me.

Mr. Zimmerman’s rifle is still pointed at the ground, but I can see his tension in the way he clutches it against his shoulder. But he accepts our leadership, slowly nodding, although he never relaxes his grip on the gun.

We’ve encountered squirrel-opus’ almost a half-dozen times on the road from Bothell, and each time defeated them without trouble. If you don’t spot them early or don’t have a way to hurt them up in the trees, I’m sure they could be trouble, but luckily we’ve always managed to see them long before we come into their range.

Sam had a different, more official-sounding name for the monsters, but we chose to adopt Melete’s name for the strange creatures. They look similar to a large octopus, but with only four tentacles extending from a small round body, and their strategy for hunting is to hide in trees with stockpiles of rocks, flinging them with surprising strength and accuracy at their targets.

They’re also not the sharpest tools in the shed.

Styx and Pallas step directly under the tree, eyes directed to the branches overhead. A rock flings down at them, and Styx deftly side steps. Another rock is hurled at Pallas, who turns intangible to let the rock pass harmlessly through. Styx dodges another rock. Pallas goes intangible again. And so on.

I don’t know what sort of world these creatures originated on. Likely, it was one that gave greater advantage to this strategy. Unfortunately for the monster, it is now on earth.

And on earth, rocks don’t grow on trees.

The monster only has a limited supply of rocks stored in a pouch along the side of its body, and in less than a minute that supply has run dry. The monster instead starts ripping small sticks and leaves from the nearby branches to throw down at my friends below them. They flutter down harmlessly.

One small branch bounces off of Pallas’ forehead. He doesn’t bother using his skill.

The monster continues its relentless, and useless, barrage, either too stupid or too stubborn to adjust its strategy. Now that it’s out of any dangerous ammo, Melete steps closer and sings, just a single note.

The squirrel-opus convulses, losing its grip on the branches and flopping down to the ground, where Pallas buries his axe into its body. For a few seconds longer its four tentacles twitch, but even before they stop moving Pallas retrieves his weapon and casually walks back to where Sam, his dad, and I wait.

“Barely even worth the effort,” Melete frowns as she looks down at her palm.

I shrug. “Better than letting it get the drop on some other hapless refugees.”

“I know, I know. But you’d think we’d be better rewarded for being such good Samaritans…” she mumbles.

“You okay, dad?” Pallas asks his father, who’s still staring at the lifeless tentacled body. He gives him a bump and repeats his question a little louder when his father doesn’t immediately respond.

“Hm? Oh…yeah. I’m fine.” He shakes his head as if to rid himself of cobwebs. “You all okay?”

“Just dandy,” Melete replies as she taps a few times on her arm, her new Numbers already allocated. “Back to the raiding?”

“Sure,” I say, gratified by Mr. Zimmerman’s reaction, but refusing to release my smile. “I’ll let you all know if anything else shows up.”

I get thumbs up from the rest of my team, and once again I settle on the porch for more boring watch duty as my friends resume their exploration of the house.

In total, our expedition lasts less than three hours, each of us returning with full backpacks of supplies. As we draw closer to the populated section of Bothell, Sam drifts away with a simple, “Farewell,” and I reply with a promise to investigate the sergeant in charge of the town for it.

Mr. Zimmerman was a big help in identifying some of the things that could be traded in town, as many of the items we recovered were things we’d normally ignore as useless. But with civilization and a larger population size comes a much wider and more varied demand.

But outside of his advice as an experienced reclaimer, we had no need of Mr. Zimmerman or his gun. We encountered one other monster in one of the houses, a spider-like creature that spun an almost-invisible web across the hallway. Through my bonds I was able to notice the monster crouched against the ceiling in a corner, but my warning came too late to avoid the web. Luckily, Pallas was the one leading the way, and phased intangible immediately after touching the sticky substance, dodging the follow-up strike from the spider monster. And before Mr. Zimmerman even had a chance to raise his gun, Styx stepped forward and buried her knife up to the hilt in its body.

While we came out unscathed, the near miss hammered home a little more caution in our group. Though we have the skills and experience to defeat monsters much more powerful than the ones seen today, all it takes is one bad encounter for us to lose everything.

Mr. Zimmerman, though, just looks impressed. As we wave to the soldier standing guard outside the checkpoint, he freely admits that his team would have lost at least one member to the spider monster, and potentially even to the squirrel-opus, as he didn’t think they had anyone who could have spotted it before it could ambush them with projectiles.

“So you’re okay with letting us go out to reclaim without supervision?” Pallas asks his father.

Mr. Zimmerman chuckles. “Zed, if you didn’t already have such a great team, I would be trying to convince you to come supervise my own team.”

Zed blushes at the praise.

“The soldiers will give us a few ‘credits’ that we can spend for better supplies at the rec center if we tell them about the monsters we faced, their abilities, and where we found them,” Mr. Zimmerman explains. “You all okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” I ask.

“Some of the teams think it gives other reclaimers an advantage, as the info on monsters is made public. Others just don’t want to do the paperwork.”

“That seems…” I struggle to find the right word.

“Idiotic?” Melete supplies.

“Yeah. Idiotic.”

Mr. Zimmerman smiles. “Glad you think that way, and I fully agree. The paperwork is boring though. I can fill it out for you this time, as a thank you for taking such good care of me,” he chuckles. “Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, if you’re willing to wait.”

We glance at each other and shrug. “Sure,” I say.

While we wait, Melete sets her own backpack on the ground and begins digging into it. While the rest of us are mostly loaded up with more conventional scavenged supplies, her bag is filled to the brim with books.

According to Mr. Zimmerman, they’re surprisingly valued in trades. While the rec center will hold a weekly movie night for any interested using their generator, most of the population of Bothell is starved for entertainment now that the internet is no longer freely available. Books have been the commodity of choice to fill that void for the average refugee.

But despite the demand, books still aren’t worth as much as most other reclaimed supplies. Their weight-to-value ratio is just too low compared to the more widely desired food and toiletries.

But upon seeing these books, Melete insisted. A collection of works from a single author split into multiple series, each book is almost a thousand pages long and has a different fantastical image on the cover.

I’ve never heard of the author before, but Melete’s enthusiasm is infectious. And as she pulls the books one-by-one out of her backpack to examine more closely, I can’t help but lean forward to get a better look.

“Hey Atlas, can I talk to you for a sec?”

I’m interrupted from my investigation by Styx’s whisper. I glance at her, then back at the books before replying. “Yeah, sure.”

She steps away and I follow, Pallas and Melete still focused on the books behind me. Fifteen feet away she pauses, and I notice her fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of her jacket, head dipped down to stare at the ground.

“You okay? What’s up?” I ask, concerned. Styx always is so self-assured and confident, even after visiting her destroyed home and finding no record of her parents here in Bothell. She seemed fine as we searched for supplies...what could have her acting like this, body language so different from what I’m used to seeing?

“I just want to say...thanks.”

I blink in surprise.

“It’s just...I don’t know if I’ll ever see my parents again,” she explains, eyes still directed at the ground. “And besides my sister, they’ve always been the two most important people in my life, people I’ve always loved and cared for. And now I may have lost them forever, which is terrible. And we were safe here in Bothell. The four of us, we’ve made it so far together...but I thought it might have ended. And I realized...I care for you.” Suddenly, my heart rate spikes. “For all of you. I couldn’t imagine losing you all. It terrified me, that we might drift apart, now that we’re safe. I love you like my family.”

And just like that, my heart drops through the floor. It’s hard to take a breath, and I attempt to school my features to hide my disappointment. I’m not sure I succeed, but Styx doesn’t stop talking.

“But we’re still together. And...that’s because of you. We wouldn’t have made it without you, and I want to make sure you know that, now that we’re safe...I still don’t want to lose you. Not to monsters...but I don’t want to lose you to passivity either.”

Styx looks up, suddenly making eye contact, silent. I don’t know how to respond, but I open my mouth anyway.

And then her lips are there, pressed up against my lips. For the third time in a minute my heart stops as time freezes.

Any thought in my head grinds to a sudden screeching halt. For all my wisdom and intelligence Numbers, my mental resilience and skill in multi-tasking, I can’t form a single coherent thought in that eternal, frozen moment.

And then the pressure on my lips abates as Styx pulls back, her eyes confused and hurt by my lack of reaction.

And suddenly my thoughts can move again. I lean forward.

I kiss her back.

S: 163

D: 186

W: 402

I: 400

C: 101 (+1)

2 (+2)

Skills: Adjust:Self, Bond:Mental