Mr. Taylor's bedroom, Lakeview Apartments, Forest Park, Clayton County, Georgia. Tuesday, October 8th, 2019. 14:56.

Mr. Taylor's ghost and Sara stared through the blinds as the joyride guy knocked on her bedroom window. "Hello? Miss? I know you are scared but I'm a police officer! Open up for me!"

She rolled her eyes and huffed, exasperated. It was the lamest attempt at deception she's ever seen. He wasn't wearing a police uniform, just jeans and a hoodie.

"He wants to fuck you," Mr. Taylor gave his expert sex offender's opinion. When she glared at him, the specter shrugged. "I wanted to fuck you when I was alive too. But I knew you were off-limits," he sighed.

Horrified, Sara sidled away from him. Mr. Taylor rolled his ridiculously bulged eyes.

"In my defense, I would never act on these impulses when alive, and now that I'm dead, I no longer feel the need to breed. I lived here and I wasn't stupid enough to attack someone and draw attention to myself. Especially not when the US Marshals had a vested interest in your wellbeing."

He knew she was in witness protection? Dammit. At least he was a sex offender with a moral code. That was really comforting. NOT. Sara wanted to ask how he knew about the marshals, but they had company.

The guy struck her window again, deciding to change strategy. "Miss, there's an evacuation order! The government is getting all survivors out of the city to a quarantine zone. There's a deadly virus and you might be infected! If you don't come with me, you might die there alone. You can trust me. I'm a police officer, sworn to serve and protect!"

"He's lying," the ghost pointed out.

"I know," Sara hissed under her breath.

"Do you want to kill him?" Mr. Taylor asked.

"No!" She protested and lifted a finger to her lips, the universal sign for silence.

The guy looked at the window they were hiding behind. Mr. Taylor clicked his tongue. "You might want to keep your voice down, my dear Sara. He can hear you."

"What about you?" She whispered.

"ME? I AM A GHOST, THAT STUPID MORON COULDN'T SEE OR HEAR ME EVEN IF HE SOLD HIS EYES AND EARS TO THE DEVIL!" The apparition shouted, then cackled.

Sara winced and covered her ears, sure that some ectoplasmic spittle fell on her. But the guy by her window didn't react.

"So, if you don't want to kill him, why do you have a pistol in your hand? Do you even know how to use it?" He challenged her.

"What?"

She looked at her hand and found she was holding a firearm. How did it end in her hand? Some sleight of hand by the felonious apparition, certainly. What was she supposed to do? Shoot a person? A living breathing person? No way. Sara shook her head. The pedophile ghost next to her didn't scare her a bit, but the thought of that man entering her bedroom was almost sending her into a panic. She thought of her mother's portrait and the Celestial feather on her desk. She felt so dumb for leaving that behind. For exposing herself like that.

"You better take care going forward. You are a young and pretty lady in a world without law," the ghost continued. "They will want to put their seed in your womb and repopulate the earth with your babies!"

"Fuck you," she hissed between clenched teeth. Mr. Taylor shrugged.

He swayed his waist suggestively and disgustingly. She noticed the ghost was having an erection. That was too much for her. She stood up, ruffling the blinds as she released them, and left the room.

"The guy noticed you, this time for real. He's coming this way," Mr. Taylor informed.

Sara was angry, indignant, and repulsed by the ghost so much that she didn't pay him any mind. She entered the office and located the computer. She left the pistol on the keyboard and then shoved the boxy CPU on the floor as hard as she could, causing a loud crashing noise. It dragged the stuff wired to it, monitor, keyboard, mouse, and headphones as it went. Her intent was to pry the lid apart with the impact but it seemed it wasn't enough.

She lifted the CPU again, making some cables snap from the back. Lifting it over her head, she tossed it down as hard as she could. That did the trick. The side panel came loose and flew across the office, exposing the computer innards.

Mr. Taylor was behind her. "The hard disk is that tiny rectangle in the metal cage in the front." She stared at the ghost and picked the pistol from the floor. "I'm glad the safety was still on. We don't want a gunfire mishap, do we?"

Fuming, she growled at the ghost, "fetch me the hammer. I'm not firing a gun at a piece of metal point-blank."

"A wise choice. Here, I already have it," he produced the hammer from behind him.

The ghost tried to touch her as she took the hammer but Sara jumped away, bumped her butt against the desk, and unintentionally dropped the gun, causing it to fire wildly. The bullet went through the specter and struck the drywall on the other side. Mr. Taylor didn't mind and wasn't affected by the gunshot.

"That's dangerous. Always keep the safety on," the specter tutted.

Sara readied the hammer and vented her frustration on the CPU. The hard disk case exploded as bits of silver disk and circuits flew everywhere. Words appeared in the corner of her vision.

> Assignment Completed. You successfully helped the ghost move on.

Sara wanted to tell everyone to fuck off, the fairy and the ghost.

> You gained 2 points in Handguns.

> You gained 2 points in Lockpicking.

> You gained 2 points in Composure.

"Wait, don't go. I need to talk to you!" She said to the fairy but was misunderstood.

"I'm afraid I can't linger or I'll lose my opportunity," Mr. Taylor replied as he mistook the target of her words. He was becoming transparent like a real ghost. "Thank you, Sara. I really like you."

He blew a kiss toward her. She dodged the imaginary flying kiss path as she tightened her grip on the handgun that for some reason came back to her hand. "Please don't. Forget about me wherever you are going."

"I have cash and gold bars in a safe box under my bed!" The ghost said as it became almost faint. "The combination is twenty-five, thirty-seven, and forty..."

It never had the chance to finish the combination. Sara didn't mind. She didn't want pedophile money. She was tired, stressed, and her ears were ringing from the close-call misfire.

*

*

Mr. Taylor's apartment, Lakeview Apartments, Forest Park, Clayton County, Georgia. Tuesday, October 8th, 2019. 13:03.

As her conscience caught up to her actions, Sara retched, trying to throw up. What the fuck did she just do? What was she thinking? Wallowing in self-doubt and the trauma of the last twenty-four hours, she went out of the ruined office. Not only dealing with a pedophile's ghost, but she also had a living breathing guy attempting to break into her bedroom, she suddenly remembered. To check if he was still there, Sara went back to Mr. Taylor's bedroom and looked through the blinds.

"BOO!"

That same joyride guy shouted from the other side as he slammed the butt of his pistol against the window, cracking the glass. He'd shimmied along the outside and was now hanging on Mr. Taylor's parapet. He fired his weapon against the window as Sara desperately tried to move away, sending a shower of glass her way. She jumped away from the debris and fell prone on her back. The young man smashed broken glass off the window frame with the gun, then undid the latch and pulled it open. She still had the pistol in her hand and she pointed it his way as she crawled backward to get out of the bedroom.

"Don't come inside. You're not welcome!" She threatened.

"I just want to be friends! What I did was just a friendly prank!" He said unconvincingly as he opened the window and brushed glass out of the windowsill. "Besides, the way your hand is shaking, you won't hit me even if I'm right in front of you. What's your name? I'm John, by the by."

"Stay away from me! I'll shoot you!" She warned.

"I don't think I will. You're quite the catch. I'll treat you well. Come with me, princess. You'll be safe and I'll keep you warm at night," he grinned.

The gun fired, more because Sara fumbled with the trigger than intentionally. The shot missed wildly and struck the roof. Sara felt relieved she didn't shot him. John flinched but then resumed his approach. He put a leg inside the apartment after brushing away more broken glass.

The sound of automatic gunfire rang from outside and John's torso burst open as it squirted blood all over the room. The bullets shredded the drywall, revealing the wall's wooden frame. Sara covered her mouth to stifle a scream. The dead man tumbled forward and fell on Mr. Taylor's bed.

"TAKE THAT, YOU FILTHY INTRUDER! NOBODY TRESPASSES ON MY KINGDOM!" The Necropolis King shouted on his megaphone.

As if to celebrate victory, the alleged "Necropolis King" (title pending) fired a hail of bullets everywhere, breaking windows and causing general mayhem. Some dogs barked for a while, then silence reigned once again. A message floated in her field of view.

> You gained 2 points in Composure.

Sara cried.

*

*

Mr. Taylor's apartment, Lakeview Apartments, Forest Park, Clayton County, Georgia. Tuesday, October 8th, 2019. 13:14.

Cowed and afraid, Sara felt bile at the back of her throat. She was in the corridor by the bedroom door and she knew she had John's blood all over her face and clothes. She couldn't go outside or risk capture. She would rather die than become a toy for one of those psychopaths. Her hand gripped the gun tighter.

In a brief moment of lucidity, she found and engaged the safety lever.

An idea came and settled deep in her mind. Humanity was too frail, too interdependent. Society was a card castle. Pull the base, and everything crumbles down. Of course, what happened yesterday was not someone pulling a single card from the base. It was smashing the whole card castle with a tennis racket.

Sara broke down. She wept for her situation, the countless children who suffered being part of Mr. Taylor's hard disk, for her foster parents. Her fear of the future, her destroyed hopes from the past, the death of billions. She grieved for a dying species, for a dead world. And the survivors out there, the scattered few cursed to live this nightmare. Madness seemed the norm. She didn't feel ready to be part of it.

A distant dog howled sympathetically as if sharing her grief. Maybe she could get one to keep her company. Without the belicose neighbors, she would go around the neighborhood and release the dogs. She feared they would starve to death without their keepers. But even without a maniac with military weapons killing anything that moved, could she spare the time?

No, she couldn't.

She felt thirsty and hungry. Sara needed shelter, she needed a bath and fresh clothes without blood and gore on them. Sara needed to look after herself first. She couldn't help anyone if she wasn't in top condition.

The girl rationalized why the System Core had her help the pedophile's ghost move on. In death, all secular crimes are forgiven. Judgment belonged to either those appointed by man, only for the living, or God himself. Anyone else had no say in it. John didn't leave a ghost behind. He either hadn't any unfinished business or only those reaped in the apocalypse could leave ghosts. She hoped she would find the ghosts of good people whose unfinished business were great deeds. She wouldn't mind a grandiose, unachievable task instead of what happened in the bedroom converted into an office.

Many minutes passed. She tasted her tears and whatever they carried down her cheeks into the corner of her lips. John's blood, for one. That had Sara back on her feet as she decided to take a cold shower. She stood up, engaged the safety of her new handgun, and went back to her apartment.

She scrubbed her body until her skin became irritated. It didn't take much but she didn't feel clean no matter how much soap and water she wasted. A rational corner of her mind told her she was wasting a precious resource but Sara didn't care. The girl crashed on her bed, damp and naked, too tired and stressed. Succumbing to the accumulated stress, she soon fell asleep.

*

*

Sara's bedroom, Lakeview Apartments, Forest Park, Clayton County, Georgia. Wednesday, October 9th, 2019. 02:48.

Sara woke up in the dead of the night. No crickets cricketing or stars twinkling, only pitch-black darkness and a sepulchral silence. The small of her back ached and she felt cold. A quick assessment of her body told her how foolish she was. She tried to move and discovered not only her back but every muscle in her body was sore from the cold. As if more injustice and cruelty would fix the world's problems, she punched her innocent pillow.

"Dumb, dumb, dumb!" She berated herself, then screamed into the pillow.

Her stomach growled in protest. Sara begrudgingly climbed out of her bed and used her hands to feel around as she went to her dresser in the dark to get some warm clothes. It wasn't yet winter but she felt like not being cold anymore. After that, she stumbled into the kitchen to search for some food scraps. She turned the gas stove on so she could have some light and heat, intending to save the precious batteries in her devices.

At the bottom of the pantry she found a value pack of instant noodles. Packet after packet of cheap ramen noodles went into boiling water as she collected a pile of flavoring packets on the counter. Not caring a bit about taste, she added all of them, mixing faux chicken with faux shrimp and faux-tomato flavorings. Sara ate the gruel straight out of the pan, punishing herself with horrible food. The soggy noodles not only looked but also tasted awful but she shoveled all of the worm-like food into her mouth. But that was it. Her next meal would have to come from a neighbor. If she was lucky enough to have one. Sara hoped the System Core would finish whatever it was doing with all that food and stop making her feel hungry all the time.

The girl touched her stomach, feeling it completely flat. At least she wasn't hungry anymore. She knew she had only bought a few hours at most, she couldn't stay cooped inside her apartment much longer. Sara had to raid her neighbors' homes for food and supplies. After water bottles and food, batteries and cellphone energy banks were at the top of her priorities.

Stepping into the corridor, she felt the stench of carrion. As she pointed the lantern at Mr. Taylor's corpse, she found it slightly bloated with some pustules forming on his burnt skin. It was disgusting. Sara thought about putting the lantern inside her hood next to her head and moving the body but she feared it would squirt some dark liquid from one of those pustules and ruin her winter clothes. She gave up on moving the corpse and went back to change clothes. She had warmed up enough and felt ready to start her day earlier.

Apparently, someone else agreed that she was ready.

> A Quest Was Received.

> Objectives:

> 1) Move all corpses out of the building (0 / 67).

> Rewards:

> 1) Chance to meet 3 other ghosts.

> 2) A base of operations.

> 3) 2 skill points in Brawn.

> Penalty for failure:

> 1) Loss of your home to a vermin infestation.

> 2) Potential health hazard.

> Time left: 21h

This one wasn't floating text at the edge of her vision. It was a glowing blue window floating in front of her. Sara waved her hand through the window but nothing happened. it was like a hologram or a visual hallucination. No, it was augmented reality. The System Core was injecting this shit straight into her optic nerve. The window disappeared as she thought about how she would make it do so.

"Why would I lose my home?" She asked, irritated. "Are you going to destroy it? Answer me, dammit!"

The answer surprised her. Sara changed gears and asked as nicely as she could, given her current mental state. "Are we having conversations now? Because I could use one right now. Please?"

Nothing happened.

"Pretty please? Oh, dammit!" Sara groaned and went back to her apartment, then shut down the lantern. She knew where everything was and soon was sitting on the living room couch, resting her head on her knees, deeply absorbed in thought.

The System Core was right. All the dead people would soon start to stink and probably ooze rotten fat like in that CSI episode. The stench would be unbearable and she would be forced to move. With the Necropolis King camping nearby with his machinegun. Also, every single building out there had dead people in them. All of them would smell like shit. The quest said "vermin infestation". She could imagine swarms of rats and bugs feasting on human flesh.

Even though the thought of man-eating bugs and rats was disgusting, she remembered her ecology class and how creatures bred faster with an abundance of food. Rats, roaches, worms, and flies would have a field day and cover the Earth, especially now that birds, their natural predator, were apparently extinct. The roaches would indeed dominate the world with humanity gone. Once the abundant food from the dead humans ended, the rats would have to eat something else. After acquiring a taste for human flesh, who said they wouldn't go after the survivors?

Even if they wouldn't swarm and kill people, they would still compete for food. Where would she get it? Sara supposed she could find a supermarket and get food from there, but that would also end sooner or later. Food and shelter were the two most basic needs. Yes, she couldn't be caught outside without shelter if that was what was coming. She had to do that quest. Just one question remained.

"What is Brawn?" She asked the Core without hoping for an answer.

> Brawn (Physical Skill): Muscular toughness and endurance. Reduces stamina consumption and damage taken, increase lifting and carrying capacity by 1% per rank. Current rank: 0.

She got one anyway. Sara repeated the same inquiry for each of the other three Skills she saw when Mr. Taylor's ghost vanished.

> Handguns (Tool Skill): The ability to correctly operate small firearms. Increase accuracy and reduce the chance of mishap by 2% per rank. Current rank: 2.

> Lockpicking (Tool Skill): Proficiency with lock picks and related tools. Increase success rate when tampering with locks by 2% per rank. Current rank: 2.

> Composure (Physical Skill): Staying calm under pressure or pain. When under duress, reduces penalties to mental stability, logical reasoning, and self-control by 2% per rank. Current rank: 4.

A part of Sara knew she had to mend her relationship with the System Core, to cooperate instead of this passive-aggressive coexistence. But a bigger part of her felt invaded, gave no fucks, and wanted nothing to do with the gift from the Seraph. But that "daily quest" wasn't something she could ignore.

Sara stood up and walked back to her bedroom. She opened the curtains and looked outside. She couldn't see a single thing. No light source at all, no stars in the sky. The black cloud from a burning world still lingered over the whole world. Working at night would be impossible without light and it would be a beacon telling everyone they could find a survivor here. She was scared of the "Necropolis King" and his gung-ho shoot-first-ask-never attitude. No more lanterns, no more light at night unless absolutely necessary.

She laid down in her bed and slept again. Clothed, this time.

*

*

Sara's bedroom, Lakeview Apartments, Forest Park, Clayton County, Georgia. Wednesday, October 9th, 2019. 07:40.

She dreaded the sun would never come up again. A documentary once said that the dinosaurs went extinct when a massive meteor fell on the Mexican Gulf and launched a dust cloud in the air that caused an ice age. Maybe not all of her facts were correct but she knew it would be terrible if the dark clouds stayed for good and sunlight never reached the surface again.

Seeking comfort, Sara looked at the smiling woman holding a baby. "Good morning mom," she reached and touched the picture as she caressed the woman's face. Then the next object. "Verachiel, we need to talk about the System Core. It is misbehaving," she huffed.

As if summoned, the bloody vexatious gem popped a floating screen in her view.

> A Daily Quest Was Received.

> Objectives:

> 1) Do 20 sit-ups (0 / 20).

> 2) Do 20 jumping jacks (0 / 20).

> 3) Try to put your feet behind your head 10 times (0 / 10).

> 4) Stretch your body thoroughly before and after exercise (0 / 2).

> 5) Eat at least 10,000 KCal worth of food (0 / 10,000).

> Rewards:

> 1) 2 skill point in Adroitness.

> 2) 2 point of System Core Strength.

> Penalty for failure:

> 1) Slight loss of physical capability.

> 2) Deterioration of Mental Health.

> Time left: 17h

She tried to touch the screen but her hand went through, like a hologram. She re-read the prompt. So that's where all that food went. The damn thing was feeding off of her food. At the same moment she decided to voice her protest, she also came to one conclusion. Did that mean she could eat as much as she wanted without getting fat? She took good care of her body and didn't need any jewel from Heaven to tell her she needed to eat like a pig. She had a perfect figure and she had to sacrifice a lot to...

Sara knew deep inside she couldn't antagonize the thing that might save her life. Why would Verachiel gift it to her, otherwise? Maybe she should start working on that thing where she and the System Core would become besties. But putting her natural animosity and circumspection aside was hard. After struggling with herself for a few minutes, she finally came around and asked.

"What is Adroitness, please?" No answer. She dropped the polite request and issued an order. "Give me information on Adroitness."

> Adroitness (Physical Skill): The Skill of moving one's body with grace and precision. Increases speed, coordination, and reflexes by 1% per rank. Current rank: 0.

"I'm quite nimble!" She protested, then demanded. "Why is it at rank zero?"

She thought she sensed a hint of sarcasm in the explanation but decided to be the bigger girl and let it slide. Instead, she decided to play along.

"Can I have another daily quest for my strength and endurance too?"

Sara regretted asking that immediately. Another blue screen popped in her sight.

> A Daily Quest Was Received.

> Objectives:

> 1) Run 10 miles (0 / 10).

> 2) Lift a 2-pound weight one yard a hundred times (0 / 100).

> 4) Eat another 15,000 KCal worth of food (0 / 15,000).

> Rewards:

> 1) 2 skill point in Brawn.

> 2) 2 skill point in Prowess.

> 3) 2 skill point in Adroitness.

> Penalty for failure:

> 1) Slight loss of muscle mass.

> 2) Decreased chance of survival.

> Time left: 16h

> Prowess (Physical skill): Making the most of one physique during stressful situations. Lower reflex delay, increases combat damage and physical power by 1% per rank. Current rank: 0.

That was in addition to the previous one. Basically, eat a week's worth of food. Resigned, she changed into gym clothes and started working out for the rest of the morning.

> Quest progress

> 1) Do 20 sit-ups (20 / 20).

> 2) Do 20 jumping jacks (20 / 20).

> 2) Lift a 2-pound weight one yard a hundred times (100 / 100).

> 4) Stretch your body thoroughly before and after exercise (1 / 2).

> Try to put your feet behind your head 10 times (4 / 10).

She was currently trying to transform herself into a human pretzel with varying degrees of failure. It was harder than it looked. Each attempt took time because she needed to reset her stance every time, information she gained only after wasting a lot of time. The counter didn't go up until she stood up perfectly straight, laid down on her bed, did her best to bend back and hip then stood up again and straightened her back.

The second stretch couldn't be completed until after she finished all the exercises, including the 10-mile run. Maybe one of her neighbors had a treadmill she could use.

Constantly checking her quest progress gave her another idea. She could use the quest timers as a sort of internal clock, avoiding the waste of precious cellphone battery life.

Sara stood up and straightened her back for the last time, feeling something pop. She deluded herself by saying that her newfound flexibility would be useful if she had to do her own manicure, at least.

> Try to put your feet behind your head 10 times (10 / 10).

Putting her feet behind her back like some sort of contortionist stunt that wouldn't happen today. Maybe not ever. She was nimble but she wasn't made out of rubber. Sara wiped her forehead and found her hand completely damp. She wished to have a bath again but the water was scarce and she had to drag forty-seven bodies outside the building. Without working elevators. She would probably be drenched after all the exercise.