Rule 7

Use Time Wisely & Be Careful Outside

Statement: How does one test the unknown? Can it fit into a bottle? Can we shake it around and add substances to see how it reacts? I believe that there must be rules to this new place. I say this because; why would anything, anyone, or any dream, feature a no-rules universe? It’s too much for the human mind to handle if we’re not provided a framework.

The stewardesses looked like familiar employees with a slightly foreign nature. The vending machines, money cards, and shopping stores were all within a comfortable range of ‘normal.’ Whatever, or whomever, is in charge of this situation wants us to understand what is happening. That implies relatable logic. I hope…

It was time to establish rules to this new world. Pens still worked, so I took time to write down my goals. They were broken into four major needs.

Find resources such as food, lighters, and maybe try to make Molotov cocktails. I had never done anything remotely close to that. Figure out if I had gained some sort of power, or could use the book to do something extraordinary. This was paramount to survival. Figure out the monsters outside and if it were possible or necessary to kill them. This felt impossible since I’d never killed outside of video games, on the few occasions I played anything but sports based ones. Reach my dad, if it was my dad. This might be completed without the first few parts but would be much harder.

This had to be completed in the time remaining. The list of tasks to complete did not strike me as feasible. It seemed downright impossible.

Post Note: It feels strange to talk about this in hindsight. It always does. Was I really an emotionless robot? I’ve reread the earlier parts to this journal, and can only conclude that I’d been broken somehow, and gone downhill.

My legs felt great. I attributed it to the healing potion splashed over me and a night’s sleep. Real food and being home helped. Having space to breakdown also helped. The pills in my room stayed firmly in their bottle, though I intended to bring them with me in case events got bad.

I added another note to my list, marking down to check neighboring houses eventually. They might have medical supplies, liquor, and food. There had to be survivors out there who’d welcome supplies to trade for other necessary items. Pain killers were always huge in those zombie fictions. Though I couldn’t rightly say what else had gone wrong.

For all I knew, the store at the corner could be full of monsters. It could have also been a safe zone with other survivors. All these places nearby could have been ransacked.

For a third time I checked my list, only to notice something new. The words were illegible. I remembered writing them in perfect, if a bit shaky, English. Now, they were closer to Sanskrit mixed with Greek symbols.

Post Note: It makes me wonder if anyone can even read this. If not, what is the point?

“Goddammit,” I muttered.

Something on the roof growled. I tensed my neck and mentally cursed. The house guardian my dad arranged disliked any words out of my mouth. At least I’d had months of practice talking to no one. Without a working phone there were no people to talk to.

Chills raced down my spine and made me shiver. Small pockets of water formed around my eyes. I blinked them back while promising myself to go to Richard’s house. I scribbled that into the line underneath visiting the government center downtown. My gibberish list kept growing and nothing could be crossed off.

I crept around the house checking my food. There were enough supplies to last a few weeks, or that’s what I thought at first. My stomach growled constantly and I kept right on eating throughout the first and second day. Nothing, other than being a recovered individual in my late teens, explained a sudden increase in appetite. Notes were scribbled down next to the food section. Even if they were illegible, simply noting them helped solidify the findings.

At this rate, I’d run out of meals sooner than expected. Lasting three days would be simple, stretching supplies a week would be harder.

The supplies bullet point, at least, where I remembered writing it, got my scribbles. I retrieved more snacks and sat down with my book at the front window. A small crack let me see through the blinds and study the patrolling monsters. Even now, those weird orc creatures walked through the night in packs of five or more. Each group, or maybe it was the same one doing laps, had a leader with this big glowing lantern. It functioned exactly like the one in my bedroom.

They attacked everything that moved. Including those weird bunny chicken creatures—which were extremely numerous. They roamed through the front yard eating flower bushes that my dad had planted. Orcs, or goblins, or tiny angry deformed little people, would charge after the rabbits.

There were dozens of questions about the book, and zero answers. I hadn’t seen another human outside and home was completely cut off from communication. Truthfully, I might have killed someone to get functional internet during this crisis.

I rubbed the book’s cover slowly. A smooth pane, unmarred by the earlier fall, greeted my fingertips. Even in the dim light of my lantern, the cover stayed dull. Each page inside was a thin replica of the cover. No matter which way I tilted them, they did nothing. I’d spent all that imaginary money and received a dud.

There were only eight thick pages in the small book. It was around eight inches long.

Post Note: In my defense, these were my first thoughts. I blame it on living through a crazy land. I’d also blame my parents but that seems disrespectful given... well, this is a faerie tale with older rules. Not everything is happy.

Two hours of the night proved fruitless. The book did not react to light from my lantern, bread, cheese, being licked, or fervent silent prayers. I tried hair shavings, holding it front of a mirror, and sleeping on the cover. Those attempts at triggering anything failed. Putting books inside the book did nothing.

It was the last effort, pulling out books, that bothered me. I held a Bible, courtesy of my parents, under the lantern light. It was then I realized that the lantern did not have a light, there was indeed a small creature inside of it—and that the words of the Bible were also not in English. They weren’t in any letters that made sense.

I studied the passages to search for regions I remembered. If I could figure out basic words or letters it might be possible to create a Rosetta Stone style tool. That is, something to reference for translation until the languages made more sense. I’d never attempted such a task, but history class taught me that it should be possible to infer portions of a new script by having a comparison.

After three hours, nothing else was making sense and issues like the funky words would take more than three days to solve. I gave up and went back to the book I’d gotten from the fat bearded fellow. He could have been a dwarf. Such a ‘magical’ race fit well with the mini-orc creatures patrolling the streets. I checked them, yet again.

At this point, the little monsters gathered on the front lawn. Ten of them stood there shuffling awkwardly and waved their makeshift weapons. Two had broken shovels, three had rakes. One carried a shotgun that hopefully didn’t work.

“Meat! Eat! Eat meat. Meet meat to eat!” They all cheered at the last statement, as if using the word ‘to’ qualified the lantern-bearing mini-orc as a genius. He probably was smarter but the bar clearly hadn’t been set that high.

Another one pulled up a large set of blankets. He, or she, huffed with effort. Others in the squad of invaders ran to the bedding and helped haul it up. Rocks and sticks, barely visible under the strange streetlights, were clumped in the makeshift carriage.

Post Note: I remember wondering why they were too stupid to use a wheelbarrow. Even children knew better. But then I eyed the shotgun wielding one and felt thankful they were that dumb.

I hung in the corner of my front room, peeking out the window. The book pressed tightly to my chest and I wished I’d pulled out better weapons from the garage. The mini-mob moved quickly. A set stood in front, wielding their weapons while the rest loaded up with projectiles from the sheets.

The first volley went wide. A second round of thrown building parts cracked glass and banged against the wall. The creature on the roof growled, loudly. My legs locked and arms tightened as the building shook.

“Defeat!” the leader shouted. He waved his lantern.

A huge gray beast the size of a horse leapt off our roof, into the pile of mini-orcs. They scattered. The monster turned and chomped an attacker. An arm and two feet were left, blood sprayed, and slick wetness tinted the ground.

“Beat!” their leader shouted. He waved it again and sparks flew. Fire flared to life, turning the blood spatter into a bonfire. “Beat, eat!”

Additional light only served to increase the gore. Gray saggy skin and large wings adorned the large monster’s frame. It leapt to another foe and bit off an arm. The lantern waving leader snarled and lifted his other arm. Fire curled off the lawn into a solid ball.

Tingles crawled around my scalp. I shivered. The backdoor cracked loud enough that I could hear it two rooms away, over the sound of creatures on the lawn fighting, over the roar of fire moving at the mini-orc’s bidding.

I needed to defend myself, or barricade myself somewhere. All that effort with the windows, and I’d forgotten to actually do more than lock the doors. It was silly how much stock I placed in a deadbolt on flimsy framing. That thing from the roof might turn for me next.

The back entrance was through the kitchen, and past the washing machine. There were brooms and shovels near the door. The mini-orcs, stupid though they were, had enough brains to use weapons. I’d spent too long sulking and had not considered self-defense. My dad’s note lulled me into believing I’d be safe until the time limit.

A zombie outbreak would have been easier to survive. I’d seen movies for those. Television shows did not explain how to survive a world where nothing made sense. They didn’t explain the inner turmoil shifting through new situations would cause. If anything, the internet taught me to expect death. I did not intend to be one of the many casualties of whatever this was.

Delusions of grandeur kept me moving. I grabbed the rectangle trashcan lid and fancied it an effective shield. One of the kitchen knives served as my short sword. The creatures were dumb enough and would flee in terror before my well-equipped majesty.

Post Note: If this sounds self-deprecating, know that it is. A trash can lid is only effective against idiots, and they make poor discs for throwing.

The back door was broken in two. Its bottom half splintered and one of the small creatures reached up to unlock the door. I panicked and threw the blade. It sank into the creature’s shoulder.

Its head whipped around, and a tusk got caught into the door. “Cheat!” it yelled and banged the door knob. Other creatures were pressing to get in. One’s legs bobbed in the tiny opening.

The house shuddered. I turned to grab a new weapon and noticed a crack along one of the walls. Powder flaked from the roof. Another sharp noise came from the door. I turned with a shovel as the lead thing lunged for me with a stick.

It jabbed my leg. I yelled. A roar came from the front yard, much like an angry dog but a dozen times meaner.

“Beat!” the mini-orc shouted and snarled. Slobber lined a tusk and blood flicked to the wall as it jerked in agitation. He grabbed the knife and tossed it back at me. I dodged to the side and fell over the dryer.

Too many were coming through for my liking. Home would soon be overrun by angry monosyllabic midgets, and I felt sure dad would disapprove. I grabbed a shovel and turned to badly jab it. My shoulder screamed with the sudden motion causing me to twist.

The first one dodged to the side but my shovel’s tip still carried into it. His face tore and skull carved apart like putty. I lost my balance. The second one dove at me with its fence post lifted overhead. A third charged behind it, but got its weapon stuck in the doorway.

My grip on the shovel faltered. It refused to pull out of the hopefully dead creature’s skull. I fumbled for the knife. It spun around and the second mini-orc banged on my leg. His other arm grabbed my pants, pulling me back with a surprising level of strength.

I had to be quicker than he was. A strange crunch made my muscles cry out in pain. I twisted to stab the monster trying to mount me. The knife almost escaped my grasp.

He gargled when my blade drove into his neck. Blood spurt from the wound. An arm limply banged into my stomach. Sharp nails tore thin tracks of agony across my side. My head pounded and body felt full, tight, almost bursting.

“Die!” I spoke while shaking the kitchen knife back and forth.

Something rumbled the walls.

The third tiny foe pointed behind me and shouted, “Retreat!”

It dropped the weapon and hauled its jacket clad rear out of the laundry room. Exhaustion struck me as the remaining enemy fled. I fell to my knees and leaned forward.

My knife felt freakishly cold, enough to numb my fingers. Trails across my skin lifted with goosebumps. Those burned and tingled. One leg jerked violently, shaking me out of the momentary daze. I sat up slowly.

The garage connected to the laundry room. A large face hung in the doorway, visible but darker than expected. I backed up while stammering. The garbage can shield which I’d lost track of while searching for a second weapon, tripped me and I fell onto my rear.

A monster sat halfway in the garage. Darkness behind it meant the door had stayed down. The huge beast’s eyes were almost six feet off the ground.

My mind blanked and mouth hung open. Two deceased foes lay on either side of me but they were pathetic compared to this monster. It was huge. It cared not for walls. Its mouth had bitten those creatures outside in two. I’d been able to ignore it before because it was remote. A thin sheet of glass protected me from the realism of having it breathe on me.

But now the smell was unobstructed. God, the smell of putrid guts that hung from its giant teeth was enough to drive a man insane. In my case, it turned calm detachment into gibbering madness. I panicked, waved the knife, and failed to utter a single comprehensible word.

Every word I stammered caused the creature to twitch. Large ears twisted toward me while its eyes narrowed into glowing red slits that burned the air. It judged me, in the way only God should have been able to. The rush and pride at defeating two monsters was replaced with cowering fear.

Post Note: I wish I could say I’d straightened my legs and stood tall against it. I wish I could say I stabbed it with a knife. Realistically, that creature was, and still is as of this postscript—far out of my league. One day perhaps. But I am no warrior. I am a different sort of creature.

It snorted and shook its head like a horse disagreeing with someone. The creature turned away. Somehow its face ignored the wall as if the obstruction was mist. I stammered. A growl crawled through the house.

I stared blankly. That creature, that absurdly large monstrosity made of teeth and wings, was the protection provided by a man calling himself ‘dad.’ It qualified as frightening but adequate protection.

The mini-orc creatures were vanishing. I stared blankly as the first one faded, leaving behind a small glowing orb. I reached for it, but it raced off through a wall toward the front room. My second victim collapsed in the same manner.

I couldn’t focus. My arms shook. Nothing made sense. The ugly monsters were dissolving into, I don’t know what. Energy, an orb, or back into dreamland where they’d spawned from. My feet moved independently of the screaming in my brain. I followed the last one, quietly. Each movement brought a new round of aches and numbness tingles.

My head jerked as I realized the knife in my hand was no longer drenched in gore. That concern was replaced as I took note of new items in the front room. On the desk where I’d foolishly left my book, sat two lanterns. The one from my room danced happily, a normal dull yellow color that reminded me of a light bulb. Its companion was a dense red that made me recall the one held by the mini-orc leader.

Post Note: A more video game inclined person might have called them goblins. Honestly, at this point of my life, I’d been moping about indoors and avoiding people. Before that I’d been trying to be social, go outside, handle college courses about boring history. Video games were great, but I preferred football or baseball over fantasy.

The second lantern flashed. I shuffled falteringly toward it, hoping that somehow the item would create fires for me. My goal wasn’t to set the house ablaze, but fireballs, or whatever they were, would certainly help me survive.

Instead, when I touched it, the device flickered twice. Similar to how a candle would blink before puffing out. The mirror covered book brightened as the red light condensed. Finally the red turned into a near perfect orb that blurred in the darkness, then that ball flew into the book’s pages.

I stared at the book and contemplated feeding it another lantern but wasn’t sure how I’d be able to see at night. I had a new question to add to the list.

“How—”

I’d almost asked aloud how I could fight those three small creatures in the dark. My light had been in the front room and very little light could make it two rooms away. Yet, I’d seen the enemy with ease. Or at least, saw them well enough to fight with questionable effectiveness.

The creature in the attic growled quietly. Apparently it had returned to rooftop watching after the battle. I also questioned how exactly this red fireball caster had arrived from outside, but with a large winged creature who could walk through walls—the answer felt obvious.

On the front of the book a single spec of light gleamed in an otherwise dull surface. It had changed. Somehow the orbs made a difference, or the sacrificed lantern. I speculated that it had absorbed them as it did the changeling orb, knife pendant, and my ‘bloodied crutch.’ I opened the book slowly.

Inside, one page had brightened considerably. My fingers brushed across the lit page. Light pooled, as if the brightness were simply a liquid to gather. The rest of the page and my heart jumped. I almost dove for the bathroom to down some pills. Instead, I paused upon noticing a change. On each finger of my right hand, gathered light glowed. The illumination trailed after my digits as I waved it around.

There were no words to properly explain what I felt. No, there were two. I felt hopeful, and amazed. This mirror would be key in my desire to survive.