The escape went better than Rory expected it to, though it was still harrowing. They thundered over the ground at blistering speed, Rory jammed between Evelyn and Dez at the back, Alves’s prone form sprawled over their legs. Then there were the supplies Ned and Allen had scavenged from the police station. Cramped was quickly feeling like a major understatement.

At least he wasn’t sitting at the front. Trish had squeezed herself between Allen and Ned, yelling at them for ruining her poor, precious, and innocent car.

They could turn it into a pulped and beaten mess for all Rory cared, so long as they managed to get them away from the Wraith Lord and his minions. That thing had been nearly as bad as the lich.

But it was looking like an easy escape—any escape, in truth—would be difficult to accomplish. For all the Wraiths and the Ghouls they had taken care of back near Belleview Luncheonette, there were a ton prowling the rest of the area surrounding Wither Elm Street, all of which Rory’s group had avoided before thanks to his ice bridges.

Not anymore. Now, as they threaded through Wither Elm, the monsters crowded the streets and rushed out of nearby buildings. Their speed was being rapidly reduced with the constant twists and turns they were forced to take with the Wraiths and Ghouls popping up everywhere.

As they travelled, Rory got the notification for the new Sigil he’d Woven from the Wraith Lord’s binds on Alves. The Sigil had the image of green chains helixing around each other.

New Sigil!

You’ve obtained a Sigil of Wraith Shackles. Bind your foes with the wishes of the undead. Hit them right in their souls.

[Cerulean IV] allows summoning 6 12-meter-long undead energy shackles for 240 seconds.

Stats

Type: Necromantic

Rarity: Uncommon

Tier: Cerulean IV [0%]

Efficiency: Low [10%]

“This is getting ridiculous,” Ned said.

Dez grunted, throwing a black fireball at a nearby Ghoul. It tried to dodge, was unsuccessful, and screamed. He’d been taking pot shots whenever one came close enough. “I didn’t realize there were this many of them.”

“I meant Trish, but yeah, that too.”

“You just trashed my car,” Trish said. “What do you mean I’m being ridiculous? You’re the one who destroyed my ride!”

Rory raised his voice so that he’d be heard over the commotion. “And we’re all going to be destroyed if we don’t find a way out of this maze of Wraiths and Ghouls.”

“We need to get to the pickup,” Dez said. “We can’t just leave it behind.”

Rory waited until the convertible had stopped jostling and bouncing past a turn. He didn’t want to bite his tongue off. “Not sure we have the time, but we can try to make some.”

He rose in his seat. Being squished in a tiny space was now an advantage as he didn’t have to hold onto anything. Rory raised his staff high and activated the Sigil of Rending Blizzard.

“Keep me steady,” he told the others as he started twirling the staff. Rory really didn’t want to lose control and then lose the staff itself. “Head to the truck. I’ll keep the monsters occupied.”

“You heard him, Allen,” Dez said. “Head to the pickup.”

“Where is your precious baby truck?” Allen asked.

“Trish, show him the way.”

“Me? Gah!”

Trish started directing them on where to go. Rory completed his manoeuvre, stabbing the staff into the air. At the apex of its rise, the metal skull glowed like a star and blasted out the blizzard.

The moving car helped Rory remain upright instead of being blown away by his own power. Rory’s winter storm trailed the convertible in a wake of freezing chaos. It shattered into the nearby buildings and cracked the road, piling snow, sleet, and ice everywhere. All the monsters caught in its fury were immediately blown back if not outright frozen.

Of course, it hurt Rory and his group too. The front edge of the blizzard covered the car and a few feet before it. Rory was soon covered in the same wet frost as the rest of them, his ears plugged by the roaring wind so that he couldn’t hear the others shouting. Couldn’t see it either. He could barely keep his eyes open in the slicing wind and biting cold.

Rory wasn’t sure how long he held it up. He was being steadied by Evelyn and Dez, and at some point, Dez rose and got next to Rory’s ear.

“We’re almost there,” he shouted over the wind. “Stop the storm. We’ll lose our way.”

Well, they couldn’t have that. Rory focused on the Sigil of Rending Blizzard and shut it down. The storm died as instantly as it had appeared, leaving behind a thorough chill.

Rory gasped a little when he was finally able to see the effect of his blizzard. The whole of Wither Elm street behind them was now frozen solid, like a lake in winter. Buildings and trees looked part of some strange winter wonderland. The only thing missing were some enterprising ice-skaters making their way through the frozen thoroughfare.

No monsters were going to get them anytime soon through that.

“W-Where are we?” Rory asked through chattering teeth.

They didn’t answer. To be fair, they didn’t need to. Rory looked around and found the cell tower not far off.

When they reached the tower, they quickly deboarded the cramped convertible and got into the pickup. Ned was happy to drive, and Rory took a seat beside him. They laid Alves in the bed of the pickup, Evelyn sticking close by. Allen looked like he wanted to join them too now that Trish had progressed to cursing their families for giving birth to them.

“Where to next?” Allen asked, trying to shift the flow of conversation.

“Did you get everything from the police station?” Dez asked from the Spyder.

Ned shook his head. “No. There was actually too much to bring in with us in that tiny convertible. We’re going to need the pickup to get everything.”

“There’s the bunker too,” Trish said.

Rory nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. They might have vehicles we can use, but either way, we need to get to them as soon as we can. The fact that the Wraith Lord was prepared to kill Alves means he probably got whatever he wanted out of the guy.”

“Which means they’re probably in big danger.” Dez sighed. “Then we head there first.”

They decided to leave. The truck and the car trundled out. There was no sign of any monsters yet, and Rory heaved out a sigh of relief.

Evelyn tried to heal Alves, but her Sigils had no effect. She couldn’t even ascertain what was wrong with him. Maybe souls were something beyond a simple Sigil to heal. That was disappointing and concerning to think about.

“What made you two decided to ditch the police station and rescue us?” Rory asked after a while. “And how’d you find us?”

“The convertible,” Ned answered with a small laugh. “We couldn’t fit everything we wanted to inside it, so we decided to come after your pickup. When we reached Wither Elm, we followed the ice across the rooftops. Were you using them like bridges?”

“We were. The roads were filled with Wraiths and Ghouls.”

“That’s brilliant. We were having a lot of trouble making our way through the monsters too. But it’s a good thing we came when we did.”

Rory grimaced. “That’s true. That Wraith Lord was almost as bad as the lich and the Knight.”

Alves coughed. He had awoken.

Jerking in his seat, Rory stared back at the other man like he was an alien. Then he realized he was being rude and sobered his expression as Evelyn helped Alves into a sitting position. Alves cowered, eyes darting every which way and his profile scrunched over as though he wanted to curl into the foetal position.

Rory’s heart fell. Poor guy looked traumatized, his arms wrapping around his chest as though giving himself an embrace. “Hey, are you alright?”

Alves took a moment to reply. He was the oldest person Rory had seen alive since the apocalypse had started, well past his middle years with heavy patches of grey in his buzz-cut dark hair. The lines on his face had become extra exaggerated after his recent experiences.

“Where am I?” he asked. “You must be the people Trish and Allen mentioned. Did you guys rescue me from… from those things?”

Rory nodded. “We did. You’re safe now. We’re heading to the bunker where the others are.”

“Oh. I’m just… surprised I’m still alive. How’d you rescue me?”

Rory took his time explaining how they had invaded and infiltrated Wither Elm Street where the Wraiths and Ghouls were based, how Ned and Allen had to come in and ram the Wraith Lord with their convertible. Alves’s eyes widened at every word. At least he was starting to look a little more animated.

“Here.” Rory reached into his backpack and pulled out a bottle of water. “Get something to drink. It’ll help.”

Alves accepted it and muttered his gratitude, drinking carefully from the bottle.

“Can you tell me more about your group?” Rory asked. “As in, how you’ve survived so far, why you didn’t evacuate with everyone else, and all that? Take your time. There’s no rush.”

Alves did take his time, and Rory waited patiently. “Well, you’re going to see most of that for yourself at the bunker. Can’t speak for the others, but I was on-duty when everything collapsed. Never seen a madder day.”

He went on to tell a short tale of how he’d been on patrol when his car had been attacked in an empty street by a strange tree monster. Alves had correctly hidden from the Otherworlder until it had left, then made his way back to the police station. Sadly, he’d found it deserted, the few officers on duty either dead or missing.

After some moments of panic, he’d met another officer’s family headed towards the bunker. He’d joined up with them, where they’d all been in hiding for the past two days.

Rory nodded sympathetically. There were probably a lot more details, likely harrowing ones, but no one needed more grief. If Alves didn’t want to mention his friends and family, that was up to him. Rory just needed to haul them all back to the palace with him, provided they agreed.

“I think we’re here,” Ned said.

He slowed down the truck, the Spyder behind them following their lead. This area of the town was unfamiliar to Rory. Old-fashioned tenements made of heavy stone and small windows stood three or four storeys high, crowding against each other and domineering over the streets. As with the rest of the town, they all looked deserted.

“Alves,” Rory said. “Can you take us to where exactly the bunker’s entrance is?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

Alves started directing Ned, indicating which streets he should be taking. It didn’t take them long to find the location of the entrance—it was beside a boarded-up convenience store. Alves pointed to the thin alley they’d have to take by foot to get to the bunker.

Dez set Trish and Allen as the cars’ guards, hiding his smile while he did so. Allen glared at him, while Trish looked like she’d just been served dinner. It was a good thing Rory was going with the rest of them.

The bunker’s entrance was through a wider-than normal manhole at the end of the alley. Rory climbed down after Alves, glad the other man was using a flashlight to shine the way before him.

“Who’s there?” a voice called. “Alves, is that you?”

“Yeah, Bo, it’s me,” Alves said. “And I’ve got some people with me. Put that gun away, will you? They don’t even work on those monsters.”

“You’ve got what?”

The ladder leading down ended a few feet above the ground. Alves dropped with a hard clack of his combat boots, Rory and the others following suit sequentially. Rory sniffed surreptitiously. Most of the bunker was hidden in the gloom, and while the air was dry and stale, it was also odourless. It was probably equipped with proper sanitation and other amenities.

“Alves…” The man called Bo stepped forward, blinking at the rest of them in surprise. He was a tall and slim fellow with big glasses, his dark skin camouflaging in the general gloom. His flashlight revealed that his coral-coloured shirt was patterned with pink rose petals. “Where in the world did you go?”

“Uh, long story. But you’re going to love it.”

Bo lowered his semi-automatic rifle and led the way deeper into the bunker. The place was too wide for their flashlights to illuminate the walls, so Rory couldn’t help feeling an unpleasant thrill that the darkness might be hiding something unsavoury. He kept his eyes on Bo’s back to stave off the unease.

They passed through a thick door, where more light awaited them. Either this room was smaller, or it was the presence of more lights that let Rory see the walls and ceiling here.

But it was the people who took him by surprise. Three sets of residents all turned their eyes on Rory’s group. There was a woman sitting near a boy and a girl, twins who looked so much like Bo, they had to be his kids, which meant the woman was his wife. A huge elkhound lounged beside the family. An older man hung near the back with a college-aged man who was likely his son.

Strangest of all were the old couple, a man in a wheelchair and a woman with a cane, both of whom had to be well past seventy. Rory felt a fraction younger than he felt he should.

“Survivors!” the first woman said, freckles dancing across her ruddy skin as she smiled. “I’m April. Welcome to our new home. I didn’t think there were others out there.”

Rory smiled. “Same here.”

Alves cleared his throat. “Right, introductions.”

Just as Alves was about to begin introductions, he froze. The way his body petrified sent alarm bells pealing all over Rory’s head. Then he fell over.

April, Bo, and the man at the back all rushed towards him before quickly coming to a stop.

Alves was shivering wildly. His mouth opened then his jaws widened, and then an eerie green hand struck out. Rory’s breath caught, and he stepped back with the others as Alves’s mouth gaped impossibly, gagging and choking on the body squeezing its way out of him.

A moment later, a thinned version of the Wraith Lord was standing over Alves’s body, covered in slime and slowly expanding to his regular size.

“Why,” he said. “What a nice home you have here.”