Frank looked at Sasha. The insinuations of one person did not have the effect they might have before his previous experiences. There was no risk to Frank, regardless of how he chose to respond, and Frank knew this. The question was, how exactly did Frank want to deal with this. Was there a response that would satisfy Sasha and simultaneously make the man accept Frank as an authority on the situation? Silence was a kind of response in and of itself, so Frank decided to start off by blunting Sasha's momentum.

"What are you on about?" Frank asked, sounding confused and annoyed as if what he was told was the most ridiculous thing. In a sense it was. Sasha had come in with lines that sounded like they were straight out of a movie. He was of course, correct in his assumption, but that didn't matter. The goal here was to throw back onus of justifying oneself to Sasha.

Sasha's eyes narrowed, not buying it at all. But him believing it also didn't matter. "I can spot an act, even a good one, Frank. Why are you so confident?" He said, his voice more emphatic.

Frank looked at him, projecting annoyance. "I don't fucking know. If it gets you to fuck off with this Sherlock Holmes shit then I'm a time traveller." He then exited the building. He hadn't had to play such games in quite a long time. For the last few years, it'd been people he knew well, people he trusted. He hadn't been the one in the group chosen to play diplomat with others, either. He was rusty. He hoped his trick had worked. If Sasha was as observant as he appeared to be, then he'd see through everything Frank said.

Then he'd stand there wondering why everything was obviously a lie except the bit where Frank said he was a time traveller. Either Frank was completely capable of fooling Sasha and had chosen to demonstrate that, or he was actually a time traveller. Of course, he could also treat it as a fluke, a failure of his own intuition. Frank found that outcome unlikely. The collected confidence, the choice in watch, the speed at which he'd gone to assert himself. Sasha thought he was hot shit. He likely was. He wouldn't doubt his own judgement.

Either way, Sasha would have something to think about. The man didn't follow after Frank, leaving him to go about his business. The first order of which was to go talk to the cop. Frank walked briskly, no longer have to account for someone else's pace. It was important to work promptly. He made it to where Jim was staked out, waiting for anyone to come up or down the highway.

"Jim!"

Jim turned at the yell, looking at Frank, a bit of surprise to see him coming back. "What's up Frank? Something happen?"

"No, I just had two ideas I wanted to relay. First, why stand around and keep watch when you could just put up a sign directing people to city hall? The second, what if more of those goblins show? Maybe people should be moving in pairs."

Jim thought about it. "We can definitely put up signs. That's so obvious. This whole situation has me frazzled." He shook his head. "As far as those things showing up, I'm not too worried." He patted the holster on his belt. "Makes things a lot more relaxed, having one on hand. If you don't know how to use one, probably a good idea to have a buddy though."

"I can see that. On a related note, you said cars don't work anymore?" Frank asked.

Jim frowned. "Yup. Even old ones that don't have electronics. Greg tried a lawnmower, didn't work either. You had a thought on it?"

"Have you tested any other things? What else might not work? Electronics going kaput is within reason, but if combustion engines are out, could other things be non-functioning? Once you reach the point where mechanical and chemical processes no longer work as intended, all things are on the table."

Jim glanced down at his gun, thoughtful. "That's a mighty big stretch of logic. Makes some sense though. So much of this shit has been Alice in Wonderland, anything reasoned sounds good. Let's test that hypothesis. I'm going to fire off a round aimed there." Jim pointed at the small patch of lawn in front of a building across the road. "If it goes off, then you head on back and tell everyone I was just testing the thing. If not, then we both head back because the thought of being ambushed by those goblins with no protection is not something I want." He cocked his head. "I suppose if Greg or Laura hear it they'll come no matter what, but then I can tell them about the goblins you saw."

Frank moved behind him, and Jim drew his pistol. A flick of the finger disabled the safety, and two hands gripped it firmly. He aimed down towards the ground and pulled the trigger. Nothing but a click. The gun didn't fire. Jim flicked the safety back on and then started to examine his weapon. It appeared no defect came to his attention, because he turned to Frank, a bit of worry evident on his face.

"Well, that's not exactly what I wanted to find out. Guess better to find out this way than when I try and use it for its intended purpose. I'm going to get a sign up and then go check on some of the other weapons at the police station. I hope it's just something wrong with this one."

It was always easiest to deal with people who were smart and honest. They understood what you said and did not assume an ulterior motive. A little bit of Frank wished he could go back to being that way, but the sacrifices needed for survival had long stripped that from him. There was other knowledge that Frank needed to impart, and he hoped to seed much of it over the day, and hopefully figure out who was reliable and potentially a useful companion in the process.

If not for the goblins, he'd be more relaxed. But the implication of a field dungeon was extremely concerning. Frank needed to make a move on it as soon as he was able. The odds of dealing with it by himself were very low. Bill could clearly handle himself in a fight and simultaneously stay calm, Sasha almost certainly could too. But one was not alright, and the other was potentially dangerous. Jim, he might be of assistance. But he was stressed to the breaking point by the situation. When he no longer could prop himself up with his police uniform and attendant status, would he still be there?

The others he had met were complete question marks. He barely had an impression of them. Greg and Laura, only mentioned, were promising given they'd apparently taken the responsibility to do something productive so quickly, but Frank had yet to meet them. It was a shitty situation. There had been no field dungeon nearby last time. A regular dungeon, that things didn't leave, was so much less of an immediate threat.

Frank continued out towards the highway. Jim had left to go make his sign, the worry about his nonfunctioning gun driving him to action. A good sign. People who sought to find something that was useful they could do when under stress were the most likely to survive.

As he walked out of the town, and then up the highway, Frank took stock of his situation. The brief contentedness he'd felt yesterday after saving Bill had already faded away, the apathetic detachment he knew was just a coping mechanism had descended back over his psyche. He yearned for that feeling of wellness, that state where optimism seemed within reach.

What point in living on if he didn't seek hope? He could continue on as he had for years up until the end, mechanically existing, and no matter how much of an advantage his prior knowledge gave him, he would end up dying a dog's death. It was impossible to inspire others if he had nothing, and without others, the inevitability of death loomed over the foreseeable future. That thought filled Frank with dread. To relive the same misery twice. One man could not overcome the apocalypse. There was no one secret that unlocked the key to saving everyone.

How to restore his will except to do what his soul willed him? It willed him to help others. To do that which he felt was good and moral, even as his mind sought the expedient, the effective. Frank reached the place where he and Bill had been attacked by the raiding party. Only the grass around the ditch being flattened betrayed the conflict that had occurred. He searched around until he found the path the goblins had made passing through the forest, and he began to follow their trail.

Fortunately, these goblins were not woodsmen. They made a mess as they moved, leaving an obvious history of their travel. Frank tracked their journey in reverse, hoping to find signs of their source. He was not disappointed. Within an hour, the trees thinned out, and he carefully kept to the shadows underneath the remaining, avoiding putting himself in the open. Soon enough, the trees ended completely, and a clearing came in to view. It was perhaps a few acres in size, mostly flat. Importantly though, it was full of poorly made animal skin tents and lean-tos, several dozen of them at least. Goblins milled about it unaware of Frank's stare. In the center, clearly separated from any other shelters, was a much larger tent. Beside it, to Frank's consternation and concern, was a crude stockade with about nine people in it. Five women and four men, if their height and hair length were indications. He couldn't quite tell at that distance.

He turned around and left immediately upon seeing them. With that situation, there was no time to lose. Goblins did all sorts of horrible things to their captives. Anyone left in their clutches too long was unlikely to recover from it. He moved as quickly as he could without making a ruckus, until he was well out of earshot, and then broke into a fast walk. With his constitution matching that of an amateur athlete or a labourer, he maintained that pace all the way back to the highway, where, on the flat and unimpeded ground, he upped it to a quick jog. The trip back took him half the time it took to get out there. He headed down the hill, past the motel, and towards the main street.

Just as Jim had said he would, there was now an indication directing people to head to the city hall. Jim had chosen, apparently, to spray paint it onto the road, and onto the highway facing wall of a building. Frank moved past these without stopping, heading for city hall. Worst comes to worst, he'd go by himself, but he hoped he could convince others to follow him. Bill at least, might trust him implicitly because of yesterday. Frank arrived, heading for the stairwell with urgency. He made it upstairs and walked straight into the room he had left Bill in.

He stepped inside, not even bothering to fully catch his breath, and glanced across the room. Two new faces, and ten he had seen when he left. As the occupants all turned to look towards him, he simply said with great urgency. "The goblins have taken captives!"