Back when I was still in purgatory I had created a nice list of the things I would do first if I ever returned home. I had given it tons of thought, revised it countless times, and fantasized for hours on the possibilities. I could have written a doctoral thesis given how much time I put into it. The resulting list was thus:

Stuff my face with whatever food was left in the refrigerator. My hazy memory told me there was still some servings of spaghetti in there and the thought of such dining was heart wrenching. Take a long hot shower. While I have been able to cleanse myself I haven’t been able to actually clean myself. Whatever this grey dust stuff was that most substances turned into when cleansed, I was caked in it. I doubt I still looked human. Wear clean clothing. I have been forced to wear the same clothes for the last week and they can be barely called clothes anymore. However, all my clothes got burned up in my room so I’ll have to adjust my definition of clean and grab from the yet to be washed pile of laundry downstairs. Call my parents and tell them how much I loved them. To be fair, this one was on the top of my list for a while until I realized I no longer had a phone. As it was also destroyed in the fire I wasn’t quite sure how I’d call them up but I was sure I would find a way.

As it is, I haven’t been able to accomplish any of these tasks in the first 5 hours of my return and it really pisses me off.

What are those blasted skeletons thinking? They should be just attacking me on sight, not running away. Has their programming or whatever gone haywire? What do they hope to accomplish in this world, my world? In all my experience with the skeletons, they have never run from me.

The strangeness of tha reverse situation pulls at me a little. Now it is me pursuing them to the death in an unfamiliar new world. I admit, I really like that.

The nature preserve they retreated to is not a park and it’s not meant to be traversed by people. As such, there is only a single path, cutting through the middle of it, with dense forest on either side. One of the reasons I liked this house so much when I bought it was the fact that, although I am still within the city I have a lot of wildlife around me. Deer and flocks of turkeys are common sighting around my house. And squirrels, lots of squirrels.

Now, I regret the choice, chasing after the skeletons has proved to be extremely irritating, especially when I fear that a single one getting loose could mean the death somebody, anybody, any poor sap they might run across.

Especially especially when they can see perfectly in the dark and I can’t. As soon as I saw them move out into the woods, I bounded after them. I didn’t want to risk taking the time to search for a flashlight or anything, I needed to exterminate them while I had them in my sight. Besides, I don’t think I even own a flashlight. Like so many things I am noticing now, my phone was my flashlight.

In the first few minutes I was able to take out five of their group. They were running away, unorganized and clumped together, moving down the single path available in the preserve. It was easy to catch up to them, other than the stray branch wiping across my face, that is. They tried to stand and put up a fight with me at first, but with the narrow way and their squad out of a formation, they were easy pickings. While there, I counted about fifteen of their kind in the dark, moving and blending in with the shadows. Now down to ten. Bleach white bones and sliced armor litter the forest floor. I wondered what the neighbors would think of the noise of our clashes, if any had awoken. The preserve isn't that big.

When the fifth skeleton was destroyed an arrow eventually got me, striking me in the chest and burrowing deep. It must have been point blank and I stumbled back at the blow, cursing at the lack of light. Instead of pouncing on me though, the skeletons ran. Each in a different direction.

That action surprised me. The skeletons had never behaved like that, ever. They ignored the path and pushed through the foliage and brambles, each seeking their own path

How dare they make this so difficult for me, don’t they know it’s over? They’ll never be allowed to exist in this world, if not me, then the goddamn national guard will wipe you out.

I suppose that was what the mage must have thought about me...

After pulling out the poisoned barb (covering the ground in my blood, I hope that doesn’t come back to me), the next few hours were gruesome. Even though the skeletons make no attempt to hide their tracks and path of destruction throughout the preserve, my tracking skills are negligible and the light from my hand was small. I was fortunate that I was able to track down and destroy the five additional skeletons that I did until morning. There was a lot more luck than skill in the hunt.

Fortunately, the skeletons seemed adverse from breaking out of the square two miles that made up the preserve. That helped, if only to ease my fears. I can’t say I blame them, on one side is a busy highway, another, a commercial district, the third a small lake, and the last the residential homes and asphalt streets they would be unfamiliar with. Twice, I witnessed a skeleton reach the unclear edge of the preserve, only to gaze out at the lights of city buildings, stores, restaurants, high rise apartments, and then promptly angle back into the woods.

Good. I don’t want to have to deal with witnesses.

Still, the preserve was mostly a swampy wetland and I hate running through swampy wetlands. I’ve gotten dozens of scratches and stabs from unsuspecting sharp branches.

The DNR is going to throw a fit when they see the tracks and damage we have made through their precious preserve. The skeletons didn't read the signs that clearly stated that trespassing was a state offense. Ignorant savages.

At least none of the wildlife was trying to kill me, honestly, that is a huge bonus for me. Usually, I couldn’t go anywhere without some eldritch horror jumping out at me.

I have no idea how I am going to hide the remains of the skeletons, or even if I should try. Every archer I killed though I carefully cleansed their poisoned arrows. Did earth have any antidotes for that poison? I have no idea, but I wasn’t going to allow an unsuspecting fool kill themselves by touching one of them.

…

Blast, why do I have to deal with this? I should be at home, in bed, chowing on all the delicacies this world has to offer.

…

Running around has given me a lot of time to contemplate.

Firstly, I think not much time has passed here, if any. It would be convenient, for certain. I had spent only a few moments at my home, but there was a clear lack of yellow tape, if you know what I mean. If I had disappeared for only a week, I would think there would still be a presence there, especially around the previous spot of my bedroom, now strange stone cellar/vault.

Great, how am I going to fix that? Board up the openings? Hire a wrecking ball to tear down the stone wall?

Also, it seems that there is no earth apocalypse in my absence, which was actually a pretty big worry. Judging from my rather peaceful run through the woods, no sirens were wailing, no helicopters thumping around, nor any random smoke and fires were appearing in the city skylines, so I think that’s a good sign.

Speaking of the apocalypse, I am pretty sure I was just really to starting my very own. I think the temple was some sort of sterilized environment but if I had taken a zombie back with me instead of the skeletons, or some other infected biomass, or even a single spore, perhaps I might have unleashed the plague that would end all the humans on the planet.

The thought scared me so badly, halfway to morning I returned to my house and cleansed every inch of the vault and up to ten yards away. Also, every skeleton I caught got cleansed to kingdom come. I guess that’s and easy way to get rid of the bones. Their blasted armor still remained.

A surprise I noticed now that I was back was that the system was no longer working. I still had my skills, but I couldn’t view my status or inspect anything. Even Pesos’ timer was gone now, no more blue boxes. I don’t know what it means and I haven’t decided if its a good or bad thing yet. If I want to try to integrate back into society after this potentially literally maddening trauma, not having floating boxes of text around me that nobody else can see would certainly help.

I just hope this means Pesos is really not coming back again to bite me.

Trying to judge how much mp I have left without the status screen is annoying though. Assuming I even have a quantifiable amount of mp anymore. I never bothered trying to get a feel for it before when the text was so easy to use.

Now the sun is starting to rise though and my exhaustion has reached the level where everything is viewed as an obstacle between me and my bed. Errr… fold out couch downstairs now, I guess. I hope I have some tarps I can use to temporarily block the holes in my house.

This last hour has left me with a fruitless search and I feared that the bloody skeletons finally decided to leave the preserve for good and go terrorize the local populace. But in the end I found them, all bunched up together for once, three armored types, one archer and one soldier. As the sunrise occurred in the east I found the five skeletons ankle deep in the water, staring back at me as I stepped out of the forest into the fresh patch of one hundred foot grass leading up the the lake. Somebody was doing a good job maintaining the grassy stretch.

It was a beautiful sunrise, the best I think I have ever seen. Streams of steam rose up from the ghostly water, reflecting in the morning sun. There were no clouds in the sky and the stark contrast of the presence of the otherworldly skeletons and the natural beauty stopped my in my tracks.

…

I really was stuck in that sick green cloudy hell for too long.

After only a moment, I moved onward, ready to finish the problem once and for all. The remaining skeletons looked at me coldly with their dark hollow sockets and I gripped the spear tightly in my hand.

The blasted skeletons managed to enter the lake from the single worse spot. Namely, the hundred foot square of swamp directly next to the lake that was the actual reason for the preserve in the first place. A small stream fed into the lake from that point but something about the ecology in that specific spot was enough to make the DNR declare it absolutely off limits to human touch as it was somehow rare and precious. The skeletons paid no heed to the dire warnings posted around and tramped all over it.

Sorry, DNR, but justice will be swift, I assure you.

That said, I take the long way around, stepping out into the shallow water from the side and sloshing their way. I might still be in the major off limits zone, but what can I do? I’ve got skeletons to kill.

I speed up when I see the skeletons start moving away from me. But a second later I realize…

Holy crap. They are moving into the lake.

Alarmed, I can only try to trudge faster through the water, but before I can reach them I see them start sinking. I stop moving when the water is up to my waste and I can only stare out in disbelief as the last skeleton’s head disappears below the surface with a small ripple, full plate armor and all.

…

…

I hope they sink into the mucky depths and perish. To Davy Jones's locker for them!

…

What on earth am I supposed to do now? Swim after them? Yeah right, for all the magical skills I have, underwater breathing is not one of them. They certainly don’t have that trouble.

I can only stare in shock at the turn of events, silvery dust dissolving off my legs and into the water around me as I stand still.

Damn, I was a fool for not seeing this possibility.

I don’t know how deep this lake is, small inland lakes like this are mostly mush and its probably only twenty or thirty feet deep, max. With all the muck, it’s impossible to see anything too, but they will not have that problem. If I go in there, I think I will pretty much guarantee my demise.

Hopefully all their equipment will rust out. But that won’t happen overnight.

…

I don’t know, I think this one is beyond me.

With a sigh, I wade back to shore and sit down to rest for a couple hours, trying to enjoy the blissful morning and watching in case any skeletons emerge from the deep. No such luck.

I also took the opportunity to bathe a little, regaining a little bit of my humanity. The silver dust bled off into the water, but I am sure its environmentally friendly.

As the morning starts I am aware that I look like a crazy vagabond hobo spear wielding madman to any viewer, so I try to crouch down behind some bushes. I don’t want that kind of attention.

…

What kind of energy do the skeletons use? I always suspected they were powered by the mana the instance or the mage provided for them, so if that’s the case, they will run out of battery soon and that will be the end of that. Good riddance.

…

Or, they take in mana from the air or just produce it themselves, like I do. I can feel that my mana is regenerating here, even if I can’t see it on the status screen anymore.

…

A train of ducks swims on by, blissfully unaware of the terrors below them.

...

Blast! I can’t take the chance! I need somebody to come in and throw tons of dynamite into the lake and blow the local fishes and skeletons to hell! I’m sure the DNR will be okay with that.

…

The small lake sure is peaceful. You can hardly tell there is a squad of murder freaks in the depths. I should get a film crew out here and get some good footage for a horror movie when they do emerge. Super authentic!

…

If I did call the national guard, or police, what would I even say to them? That there are animated skeletons hiding in this lake? Tell them my story and show them my powers to prove it? Where would that even leave me when all is said and done? Back at my job at the company, billing people for our services and living my life just as before, with some added super powers?

Or, something more dire, straight out of a grim comic.

...

This is insane…

I stay around the lake for most of the morning, but I feel like I am not going to win the waiting game with these guys. I thought about trying to get somebody over here to watch the lake in my absence, but the task is so daunting I give it up. Besides, I am far enough away that the skeletons wouldn’t even be able to tell if I am here or not and it is daytime right now so I am sure somebody would notice a troupe of muddy skeletons emerging from the lake and call the police.

...

Also, I have an odd feeling that the skeletons have a plan down there in the lake. They are not just hiding, but something more sinister. I have no idea what it could be, I doubt they have the ability to create a portal to hell or something like that, so it's probably just my biased hatred for them.

When the morning is over I finally give up. The highway is busy and the commercial district is up and running. Judging by the atmosphere, it feels like a Saturday. Around the non-swampy half of the lake the apartment village is bustling with activity, especially at the waterfront. Dogs are running, adults are moseying, children are swimming...

God Damn it. I can’t let those skeletons go. Not when people are in danger. I’ve got to do something.

I slink back into the woods, making my way back to my house. From every suspense thriller movie I have seen, I know that running down to the beachhead at the apartment community, waving my hands wildly, dressed like a madman, and screaming incomprehensible nonsense will have the opposite effect to what I want. And as the confused beachgoers look at me the skeletons will appear and drag the beautiful bikini clad actress into the water by her heel while all the onlookers gasp in horror and disbelief. I’m not going that route.

I leave the scraps of steel at the remains of the skeletons were they are located as I pass them by. I’ll leave the proof there.

At my house, I change into some dirty laundry from downstairs next to my washing machine, after giving it a good cleansing of course. I sniff the shirt and then put it on, satisfied with it and the master chief image on front. Awesome.

I pull out the stone that once was the core and examine it for the first time. Its all white with a blood red spot in the middle of the wrinkly fossil. Other than that is seems very non-magical and dead. Not knowing what else to do with it, I stuff it into a cedar chest I have in the basement I use for storing blankets.

After clothing myself presentably I grab whatever I can from the fridge and stuff it into my mouth, eating a bell pepper like and apple and then chow down a previously moldy chicken breast, now cleansed. And I thought the wafers tasted good.

I leave in a rush, but manage to ask my smart thermostat before I shut the door, “What’s the date today?”

The device blinked for a second before responding with a ding, “Today is Saturday, June 23rd.”

Nice. I think. It really is the day I had left.

It’s like Narnia, those characters literally spent over a decade inside the wardrobe, but when they came back, they were kids again. I am glad that did not happen to me at least, that has got to be weird.

Still chowing the red pepper, I make my way over to the house on my right. Bill lives there along with his wife. He’s a retired truck driver and is super handy and nice; he helped me try to fix my garage door a month back when one of the cables snapped. I never talked to him before and not since. I haven’t met his wife, but today is a good day to try. I am feeling particularly bold.

My other neighbor’s house sits back further in the woods and has clear large signs in red and black saying that no trespassing is allowed. I am pretty sure he is growing weed in his backyard and is dealing out front, you can sometimes smell the fruity fragrance in the summer winds. I haven’t caught his name yet and I’ve pretty much actively avoided the guy. He did seek me out last fall when I was leaf blowing to tell me I could blow all my leaves into his wooded property if I wanted, so the jury is still out on him.

Still, I’m going to go to the guy I know the name of at least.

I walk up to the front door, a little trepidatiously despite myself. Bill’s lawn is immaculate and in his retirement I see him out in it all the time with his fancy toys from his pole barn. It makes me feel bad in comparison, especially when our lawns are literally next to each other and he often mows and waters my side of it too. Oh well, he’s got time and he enjoys it, so what do I care?

I knock on the door, and shift my weight uneasily. What am supposed to say? I haven’t a clue. Talking to semi-strangers was never a strong point.

After a few moments, the wife answers the door with a surprised face.

Crap! I don’t know her name! Nor do I know if she could recognize me. I was expecting Bill to answer for some reason.

I swallow nervously and try to smile.

“Hello!” I say brightly, “I’m Greg, your neighbor!” I point over to my house without looking. “How are you doing this morning!”

Stink, I shouldn’t have asked that, that was dumb.

She kinda gapes at me for a second, before responding warily. “Fine…”

I stare at her for a second too, but she doesn’t say anything more. I can feel my face heating up, but I try to ignore it.

“Great!’ I say with too much enthusiasm. Then I start fumbling around, “Say, can I talk to Bill… I mean, my phone got destroyed and… look, I’ve got a small problem, can I borrow your phone to make a call? My phone isn’t working.”

She gapes at me for a moment longer as I feel my smile straining. Then she turns her head around and calls back, “Bill!”

After a moment of me standing on the welcome step, I can hear a faint voice calling back, “What?”

“Can you come here?”

“Why, what’s up?”

“Its…” she turns back to me, her eyes giving me a once over with eyebrows raised. She just calls back with some tension, “Just come over here please.”

I can hear a low, “Okay,” and I keep my smile frozen on my face as the wife and I stare at each other. I want to go home.

Eventually Bill comes into view. His big boned, grey haired, and weathered skin body. Oh, thank God.

He looks at me and his eyes bulge a little. “Greg!” he exclaims, “Are you okay?”

Excellent, I think my current social prowess can take it from here.

“I’ve had a hard day, actually. I’ve got a problem and my phone was destroyed, can I borrow yours to make a call?”

His mouth hangs open a little bit and I realize that I haven’t actually looked at myself in a mirror yet. I have no idea what I look like, but it must be something awful. Probably looks like I haven’t eaten in a month.

Oh yeah, most of my hair is gone at this point too. What’s still there is probably patches. I should have worn a hat.

After a few more moments of shock on his end he regains his composure and steps aside, gesturing inside his house. “Of course,” he says. “Over here.” I step in and follow him, checking out the inside of his house.

I don’t know what to say. It looks like an old person’s house. Not that that’s a bad thing, it’s very neat and tidy.

He guides me forward and the wife follows behind me, I can feel her gaze on my back.

“What happened to you, Greg?” Bill asks as we walk into his kitchen. “You look like Hell!”

I shake my head. I don't know what to say. Behind me, I hear the wife turn off, going into the living room. I can hear a television going on in the background.

“I don’t know what to say,” I state, looking at him in his eyes. I don’t want to burden him, so I don’t elaborate.

He gives me a queer look and then reaches up and grabs a phone off the wall. A corded phone.

“A landline?” I ask him with a grin. “In this age?”

He gives me a scowl. “Landlines don’t fail when the power goes out. And you can’t lose it.”

Of course he says that, why am I not surprised.

I stare at the phone in my hand. Oh crap.

After a moment Bill grunts, “Aren’t you going to make your call?”

“I’m trying to remember my parent’s number.”

At my statement, Bill gives out a short bark of laughter and then leans back against the wall with a sigh.

I continue to stare at the plastic phone in my hand, willing the numbers to appear in my head. 254? Or was it 245? Blast!

“Seems like its a good thing too, considering what’s going on today.” Bill adds, giving me an eye, “Having the landline, I mean. My kids can call me anytime without worry.”

Oh, okay.

...

That sounds ominous.

“What do you mean?’

He shrugs back. “Hell if I know. Come here and look.”

He moves me into view of the television. The phone is still in my hand, it’s a long cord. Nice.

The wife is sitting on the edge of their flowery couch, her legs bouncing up and down repeatedly. She has her hands under her chin and is gazing intently at the television, her thin frame wound up. She’s so tense, it's starting to make me tense.

On the TV a newscaster is speaking and some images are being shown but I can’t make out what is happening.

“Our daughter lives in LA,” Bill says next to me. “I called her first thing this morning when I heard what was happening. The call came through no problem.”

“Didn’t she have a cell phone though?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bill grunts back, “the point is that she can call me anytime and we don’t have to ever worry about it.”

Whatever floats your boat, Bill.

I look at the news for a few more moments, but out of context I can’t make heads or tails. Clearly something important is happening.

“What’s going on, Bill?

Bill looks at me and then looks at the phone in my hand. “If your not going to make a call, put it back, I want to be able to pick it up if my daughter calls again.”

Chastised, I hang it back up quickly. I really can’t remember my parent’s cell phone numbers. Blast.

“Anything new, honey?” Bill asks his wife.

“There are eight of them now,” the woman answers, her voice a little strained.

That’s not helpful.

“Eight what?” I say loudly, looking directly at Bill.

He raises his eyebrows at me and then puts his hands together to make a sphere, wiggling his hands back in forth as if trying to come up with a good illustration. Eventually, he gives up and gives a meaningless shrug.

Thanks Bill.

It doesn’t look like I am getting a clear answer from them, so I watch the TV and try to piece it together. Eventually a helicopter shot comes in and I see a video of a dark gray opaque sphere, planted in the middle of a big city. Judging from the buildings around it, its about the size of my house. Also, It appears to be sitting halfway on a road and halfway directly into some office building.

That’s not natural.

Once it appears on screen Bill waves his hand forward. “That’s the one that appeared in LA. There are eight of them now, confirmed around the world, China, Europe, you name it. Nobody knows where they came from, how they got there, are what they are made of. Aliens, if you ask me.”

Apparently, my look of stupidity is gratifying enough for Bill to provide some more info. “They are growing too, expanding they say. Not too fast, but measurably, an inch in diameter and hour, I think they said.” he shrugs, enjoying my expression. “They consume whatever they touch, nothing comes out. They’ve tried cameras and drones, but nothing works. It’s an attack, I told my daughter to get out of LA, but she won’t listen. Bombs, that’s what they are.”

...

Holy stink, is that really what I think it is? Are there really eight of those blasted things scattered across the world, probably more? And what? One just happened to spawn directly on top of me?

I feel a little weak at my knees and I lean against the wall for support.

...

What the hell is going on?

Nobody knows that answer, certainly not the newscasters. Another wave of weakness hits me when I realize I probably have more answers than anybody else on earth.

I guess, if nothing else, this makes my job a little easier. Hopefully. I walk back to the kitchen and pick up the phone again, dialing my second number, this one I can at least remember.

A voice answers immediately, “911, what’s your emergency?”