Chapter 79

Waking to bright daylight, Daniel discovered distinct absence of pain. He could see the light through his eyelids. He tried to crack them open, but they did not respond.

He panicked slightly.

The ropes fell away, and he rubbed his eyes. They were covered in some sort of substance.

What was happening? he wondered.

A clear picture came to him. He was lying on a blood-soaked mattress. His head looked like a zombie with blood caking it. Tamara was sitting on the bed next to him.

He stopped himself before lashing out as a hand touched his shoulder.

Tamara was here. Priscilla was his only explanation. With the blood and blindness without Priscilla’s image, he might have overreacted to the unexpected touch.

Who else?

More information flowed from the mouse. Carly’s dad and Carly. No Ivey? Why?

There was a shrug, and a confused cascade of memories. Which basically revolved around Priscilla convincing Carly and Tamara to come.

“What happened?” Daniel’s voice croaked noticeably.

“Umm,” Tamara said uncertainty. “Priscilla got us and opened the stairwells. You were covered in blood, tied up in vines with electricity going through you, and Carly has been healing you ever since.”

“Water.”

It was passed to him, and he drank deeply before wetting his face and using a nearby pillow to wipe it clear. Red streaks covered it.

“I must look hideous.”

“What happened?”

“I was trying to learn lightning.”

“You did this to yourself?”

“Yes, we need to get stronger. My traps won’t keep working. Above us there are animals, and below us the zombies are too smart for them.”

Tamara laughed and flicked his ear. “Mutant humans. If Ivey heard you say zombies, you would get in so much trouble.”

“Thank you all for coming,” Daniel said after a moment. “I am not sure how I would be feeling without the healing.”

“Very sore,” Tamara said with a laugh. “So the key question is did it work?”

“I guess I can test, but maybe you guys should leave the room just in case.”

“Are you going to explode?” Carly asked, and he looked at her till she blushed and ran from the room.

The moment they were gone, he remembered how he could create a little spark between his pointer finger and the thumb.

ZAP!

The blinding light hurt his eyes. Carly burst into the room with a healing spell ready, and the smell of ozone filled the space. He waved her away and searched for a target. Out of everything in the room, the TV looked the best. It was not like it was ever going to be used again.

ZAP!

Light and energy surged from his core down in his armour out of his finger and into the TV.

Boom!

The TV exploded in a hail of glass and plastic parts; bright light hung over his vision, making it hard to see. Wind buffeted him. A third of his mana was gone. A moment later, when he managed to open his eyes enough to squint, so was the TV.

“Wow!” Tamara said, quietly having entered the room.

“I might need to learn a bit of control. But that will do.”

Besides the TV having been reduced to nothing larger than a matchbox, the wall behind it smouldered with a football-sized hole blasted into the plaster, revealing the neighbouring room. The edges of damage were smoking.

Tamara, with a wave, sent ice washing over the space, snuffing out the start of actual flames.

“That is so awesome,” Carly babbled.

“Special ability and”—he waved at the bloody mattress—“painful to gain.”

“I take it that this is yours,” Carly’s dad asked him, indicating the staircase.

“Yes. But I need food before we use it.” His stomach gurgled and waving them ahead they started walking. Priscilla scampered up his leg to his shoulder.

“You should reward Priscilla,” Tamara said finally seeing the mouse. “She worked really hard to get help and she might have saved your life.”

“One pack,” he offered.

“Five,” Tamara counted with a chuckle.

“What, you are on her side?”

“Of course.”

“You are killing me. Two packs.” Priscilla, who had been riding on his shoulder, perked up. “You are just bribing her because she is cute.”

“Your point? Four.”

“Three,” he ground out.

“Hear that, Priscilla?” Tamara cooed, stopping him so she could pat the mouse with a single finger. “Three packets and all salt and vinegar.”

“I didn’t promise that,” he objected. Priscilla was already doing a dance on his shoulder. “Fine,” he grumped.

“Look how happy she is.”

Daniel smiled at the dancing mouse.

“You big softy,” Tamara said, giving him a playful shove. The physical contact reminded him of Beau, and his face dropped. He had killed the man and still had to deal with the accomplices.

“What?” Tamara asked concerned. “Oh,” she said with sudden understanding, having somehow followed his mental connections. “Ivey is looking after them.”

Ivey had been part of the confrontation, so of course she would manage the consequences. Ivey was on his side, and he wondered how Tamara would feel about what he had done? Hell, how did she feel about him? He hated that his brain asked that question. He had a girlfriend—or prospect—in Ivey. Why would he be thinking about someone else who was claimed? All he knew was that she often made him feel better and helped where she could. She was a good person, and they would be in a lot more trouble if she was not around.

Then he registered how she had looked at him and that she had followed his thought process. She had to know about Beau. Worry gnawed at him, both what Tamara would think and the wider group. No. It would only be Tamara. Ivey would not have spread details about the confrontation extensively without consulting him.

He stopped, and everyone behind were forced to a standstill. “Thanks for your help, Carly, Luke. Do you guys mind going ahead?”

They nodded and kept going. Tamara’s globe of light followed them, attached to Carly’s spear. Below them, the stairwell door clicked shut, and Animal Sense confirmed Daniel and Tamara were alone.

“Now you have me all alone in a dark stairwell. What are you planning on doing with me?”

“I—” Daniel was sure he was blushing. “Just wanted to know what Ivey told you.”

“I know,” Tamara said, her hand cupping his cheek briefly in sympathy. A light glow had sprung into being around them. “Beau and three thugs followed the two of you downstairs, intending to murder you. It went poorly for them. Beau choked to death and the others are trapped below waiting to see what your judgement is.”

Wow, Ivey had retold the story with no embellishment.

“I was not there,” Tamara continued, oblivious to his thoughts, her voice whispering so no one could accidentally overhear them, “but Ivey thinks you should have killed all of them. Personally, I think that would have been a step too far. But they were ready to kill you, and it is not like there is a justice system.”

“You don’t hate me.” He was surprised the question slipped out.

“Hey,” she said, lifting his chin to force him to make eye contact. “I think you are doing amazing.” Her eyes implored him to believe her. “And most of us share that view, the smart ones at least. If you had not saved us, we all would have been dead or stuck in our rooms waiting for the food supply to run out.”

“Thank you.” Then, as much as Daniel was enjoying the moment, it was time to get going. A quick breakfast followed by some social rounds because if he was going to be in charge, then he needed to make sure that he was visible.

As he walked toward the kitchen, passing the door to the room they had converted to a crafting station, Alisha burst out, running into Tamara. The sheet they had hung to give a small amount of privacy did not provide any warning like a door would.

“Sorry,” Alisha said, and Daniel saw tears on her face. “I—”

“Wait,” Daniel ordered and activated speed to a quick step and grabbed her arm. “What is happening?”

“It is not my fault. I left them next to the TV and . . .” She looked around wildly. “I don’t know?”

“Alisha,” Tamara said, bending slightly to get to eye level with the smaller woman and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Calm down.”

“I just do not understand. They were supposed to be on the table.”

“What is missing?” Tamara asked patiently.

“Four cores.”

Daniel and Tamara looked at each other warily.

“What cores?” he finally asked.

“The cores you gave me to help with my crafting.”

“Those,” he said quietly, immediately losing interest. They were useless to him, Hulk cores and unknown ones that he was not willing to risk. “Don’t worry about them. We will get more.”

“Ivey said they were precious, and they are gone and . . .” She was almost hyperventilating.

“It is okay,” Daniel repeated. “We will get more.” His mind went to Beau, and it was the sort of stupid thing that he would have attempted. Stolen the cores and used them to duplicate what Daniel was achieving. “I am sure someone was doing an experiment and took them.”

“You think?”

“Yes, and I have some more from the zombies we killed yesterday. I’ll drop them off after breakfast.”

“Really? You will not punish me?”

“No, the person at fault is whoever took them without asking.” His stomach growled loudly. “Later,” he promised.

When he got into the converted kitchen space and dining space, it was empty. The stoves they had set up were hot, and a large metal bucket that they were using as a pot sat off to the side. The scent of sweetness wafted from it still. He walked toward it.

“Daniel, wait,” the cook said, jumping up from a seat he had placed in the corner. “I can cook you something special.”

He hesitated. It was tempting. He would have liked something more substantial than what he could smell.

The cook saw his small stutter. “Breakfast noodles, pancakes, sweet or savoury, we have the ingredients. What will it be?”

Daniel looked into the makeshift pot. There was a significant amount of porridge still in. “No, the porridge will be fine.”

“Not for the man who saved my life. You deserve something special.”

“Maybe tonight,” he offered, while helping himself to the leftovers. He was the one who had effectively slept in and missed communal breakfast. The fact the food was not perfect would not bother him.

Not the only one, he realised, as people kept trickling in.

He sat by himself and shovelled the tepid porridge into his mouth. It was great; the flavours exploded in his mouth, and the fact it was sweet hardly bothered. He scoffed down a bowl, then a second, and was going back for a third before he was intercepted and handed a plate filled with crepes.

“Crepes with chocolate sauce.”

“Thank you.”

“Can’t have you eating all the porridge and having others miss out.” The chef laughed and Daniel smiled when he bit into the delicacy. It was beautiful, and there were lots of them. He kept expecting someone to ask about the missing men, but no one seemed to care. They were not even talking about it behind his back.

“Why do you have so much blood on you?” He looked up. It was one of the non-fighters he had rescued yesterday.

He held out his hand with his thumb and index finger spread as far apart as he could.

Zap.

Electricity arced between his thumb and forefingers. It promised violence and consumed almost no mana.

The man stumbled back. As a method of intimidation, it would apparently also work wonders. “For that. Painful to achieve but . . .”

Zap.

“I have a ranged attack now.”

“I want to learn lightning,” Zac exclaimed. “Can you teach me?”

Daniel shook his head. “I literally can’t. I can only do it because I have a special ability.”

Because I am a mutant, he thought to himself, but then just laughed at Zac’s antics as he pranced around pretending to have lightning powers.

“Zap!”

“Ouch,” Zara, his sister, yelled. “Mum! Zac pinched me.”

“I used my lightning,” Zac protested. Daniel took a bite of his last crepe and studied the plate, not wanting to get blamed.

“Zap.”

“Mum!”

“I should go talk to Ivey about . . .” Hurriedly, Daniel got up and left the room. He could hear the sounds of Dave’s roars and Ivey’s softer voice three doors down, and he walked over, rapping on the door and pausing a moment before pushing through the sheet.

Ivey, looking just as amazing as last night, was sitting on the bed cross-legged while Dave sat on the floor.

“Hey, you!” she said with a wave. Then her eyes focused on his clothes. “That was not from Beau.”

Zap.

“Oh,” she said after only a slight moment. “You need to push yourself less.”

“I survived. It worked.”

“RAaag rog.”

“Yes, it is a good job,” Ivey agreed. “But having a criterion of ‘it’s okay, I survived’ is probably not sustainable.”

“I will be more careful.”

“Will it be useful?”

“Oh, yeah,” he told her. “I tested the stronger version upstairs, and it blew up the TV and a body-sized chunk of the wall. We need to talk,” he told Ivey and then looked pointedly at Dave.

“He can stay. He already knows everything.”

“The prisoners?”

“I gave them water.” There was an awkward silence.

“RILL.”

“No, he should not kill them,” Ivey insisted. “Sorry, Dave thinks you should kill them. Personally, I don’t care.”

“RA RILL ROO.”

“Yes, they were going to kill me. They made a mistake. Their ring leader is dead, and I am comfortable with whatever decision Daniel makes about the last three.”

“RAGAT.”

Ivey rolled her eyes at Dave, but no explanation was forthcoming.

“What is your advice?”

“Don’t exile them.”

“That is it?”

“Yep. You can kill them and announce it or have them vanish without explanation. No one is going to care too much. Let them back in with whatever conditions you are comfortable with. The community is behind you in eliminating them or welcoming back strength, which is what you want. Basically, with Beau dead, you can’t go wrong. I just say no to exile because it feels like a waste of resources.”

Daniel grinned. “That is what I thought.”

“Raraf.”

“Dave agrees.”

“I know that one. RAGAT not so much.” He might have been imagining it, but Ivey’s cheeks went slightly red. “I should go check up on them.”

She went to get up, but he waved her down. If he could not face three constrained prisoners by himself, then their entire group was in trouble.

Daniel headed downstairs and was happy to find the door to level twenty-two sealed with magic. Good job, he thought to Priscilla. She ignored him, and he got the impression that she was busy playing with the zombies on the floors above him. He would have preferred her to have been scouting out level thirty, but he would not order it, as whatever she was doing, she was enjoying it and they all needed to blow off steam occasionally. If her method was infuriating creatures a thousand times her size and getting them to hurt each other, who was he to judge?

Daniel walked up to them, and the three men watched him in wary silence. His club was held in his hands, but he could sense it moving the teeth that created its spiked appearance around.

By the sudden swallowing by his captives, they had seen it too. In their heads, his presence down here alone would not be a good sign.

“Before we get started, is there anything you want to share with me?”

“I don’t want to die. I will swear an oath. I will do anything.”

“Me too.”

Daniel turned cold eyes on the third of them. The man still had a trail of blood on his chin from where the door had smacked him.

“I will not beg,” he mumbled.

“Good,” Daniel said simply. “I am not here to negotiate. You have two choices. You re-join the community, and you use all your skills to get it better or you die. And before you start scheming, if you stay, you will be on probation. One stuff up and Blood Drinker gets a meal.” He lifted the club threateningly, and its spikes moved like it was quivering with anticipation.

“Aren’t you worried about us betraying you?” the brave one asked.

Daniel actually laughed, and the man stopped talking.

“So slave labour or death,” the brave one summarised.

“Not slave labour. You will be treated the same as everyone else.”

“That seems a bit—” the brave man started.

“Generous,” Daniel suggested.

“I was thinking more stupid.”

The man’s companion hissed in surprise. Daniel sat on the ground to think about the question though, deactivating their bonds as he did so.

“I hope that if I give a chance for redemption that you will take it. There are thirty of us and hopefully a similar number above us still alive. Outside the towers, the world is a bloodbath. By the end of this week, we could be the only people left alive within five kilometres. Hell, based on what I have seen moving in the CBD, by that time all of Melbourne might be dead.”

“That’s alarmist. The help files suggested that survival is far higher than that,” the builder disputed.

Daniel shrugged at that. Ivey had told him bits and pieces about how the system worked. The basics being that humans had brought this catastrophe down upon themselves like nearly every newly minted space-capable species did. Scientists somewhere created a particle and by some mumbo jumbo that he was sure boffins could follow meant that the single atom converted everything on the planet to the new system. Maybe someday, when the entire world was not trying to eat him, he might get someone to write it all down.

The help files that the builder was referring to were part of the interfaces that, amongst other things allowed people to cast magic. Through having lived through not having one, Daniel knew that their main benefit was stopping people’s minds from being destroyed and their bodies warping into feral, mutated humans. Not that the interfaces advertised that fact. Out of the fifty interface-less humans that he had seen, Dave was the only one to escape with his brain intact.

“We don’t. That is true,” he answered quietly. “All we can judge is on what we can see. And no one is betting on us surviving at the moment.”

“Why would someone create this,” the builder asked, waving his hand, having realised Daniel had freed them, “and then lie?”

Daniel shrugged. “If they were so powerful, why didn’t they stop this happening?”

“Because—”

“We don’t know,” Daniel interrupted, not wanting to get into a philosophical argument as there was not time for that sort of shit. He wondered if a church of the interface was going to form? It had been a couple of days, so not only was the answer yes, he was sure they already had missionaries out. Some crazy group that preached the interface gospel.

“And I don’t care,” Daniel said hastily. “The point is, I think you guys want to do the right thing. I think given a chance, you can be productive members of society, and we need all the help possible. We are all Australians; we all have similar values. I want to get the kids to safety, and I have no moral qualms about executing you for trying to kill me. My only real decision was whether keeping you alive improved the chances of me getting the kids to safety or decreases it. Let me be clear.” He met the eyes of all three. “It was a close decision, and I will be watching.”

There were visible gulps, and no one was willing to meet his eyes fully.

“Most of my time is going to be spent fighting,” he reminded them. “I will not be monitoring you, but you guys need to seize this. Get stronger and improve your skills. You might not be specced, but you are big men. You can also learn to fight, gain some experience, and become more powerful. Contribute.”

Zap.

The bolt of electricity blasted down the corridor away from everyone. It left a scorch mark where it hit and would absolutely have disabled any human, if not killed them outright. It had only taken eight percent of his mana as well. His control was improving.

“I couldn’t do that yesterday. No more lazing around. Get strong. Seize your opportunities.”

“How did you develop that?”

Daniel shrugged at the question. “I have a special ability that lets me absorb feral cores. They will send everyone else mad, so don’t try them. Lightning may be beyond you, but you should see what Hua Chua does, and she has a cleaner class. Practise your skills, push them every way you can. See if any of them have a combat application.” He turned to the builder. “Construction is going to be vital. Both in the hotel and out. At some point, we will leave here and strike out for somewhere safer. If you have mastered your skills and can construct sturdy walls quickly, that will be a godsend if we need to establish emergency shelters. It will save lives. Hell, think broader. Maybe build traps, kill zones, deadfalls, anything that can contribute to front-line fighting. You.” The blacksmith went white. “You are a smith. We need weapons, traps, cooking pots, all of it. Get a forge if that is what you need and start making stuff, and finally—” He looked at the farm researcher. Seeing that class in the middle of the city was slightly amusing. “We need to eat. Use your skills to help feed us.”

The farmer nodded, enthused. “I can breed plants that can grow in here, with low soil, maybe something to collect water.”

“Don’t talk, just do,” Daniel said tiredly. “I am not a font of knowledge, but there are actual monsters out there. Not me. Not him.” He pointed at the dangling feet. “There is no time to sit on your bums and feel sorry for yourself. Stand up and be counted.”

He was not sure they accepted his motivational speech.

None of them spoke. The blacksmith looked thoughtful, the plant guy embarrassed and the builder was nodding along with his worked. Overall they were reacting positively instead of belligerently.

“We should get going.” Daniel said, standing up. These guys did not worry him, since Priscilla had just snuck down to provide support. She shared an image of a zombie hitting a bigger zombie in the face, a blur of motion and a lot of blood.

He smiled despite himself, just a tiny twitch of his lips. He hoped none of the men caught the look and misinterpreted it.

“Wait, that is it?” the blacksmith yelled at him. There was disbelief in the voice. “No punishment details, no booze bans.”

“Guys, there is enough alcohol. You contribute? You get access. As for punishment, I am not doing it, but you are on probation. When I say no second chances, I mean it.”

To illustrate his point, Beau’s body fell from the rafters and landed with the thud.

“Work out how you can make a difference.” With that, he stalked away. “And deal with your ex-friend.”

He had wasted enough time. Every minute that they delayed there was more chances for something to go wrong upstairs. There were monsters to fight, including whatever had made the penthouse group send an SOS.

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