Chapter 15

US-50, Ohio

On the Road

Waking up in a sweltering van in a drying pool of your vomit and blood was pretty awful, but it was better than the alternative of not waking up at all. The noxious mixture acted as an adhesive when I pulled my face off the hot van’s floorboard like a fat, sweaty shirtless man would peel away from his leather recliner. I was not prepared for the pungent smell of the toxic marinade and started dry heaving. Being glad there was nothing left in my stomach to come out, I opened the back doors of the van and drug myself outside. I reached back in for my backpack and got some water out, rinsing out my mouth and spitting before using more in an attempt to clean up. There was nothing to do about the smell as it hung around like a crazy ex-girlfriend, so I drank some water and prepared for the day.

Weather wise, the previous day was one to remember, being just the right mix of temperature, direct sunlight, breeze and humidity. Today was the more standard day in southern Ohio. I was already sweating from the van, and the salty excretion clung to me as the air around me was far to saturated with water for my body’s natural cooling system to work like it should. A groaned as I saw my backpack was not immune to the vomit soup either. Luckily the side the bow was taped too was down, and most of the grossness was stuck on it and not the fabric. Some water, another rag, and a little elbow grease had the bow looking clean even if it smelled awful. I peeled the sticky shirt from my back and tossed it like the trash it was. My T-shirt collection has been taking a lot of causalities in my quest to stay alive and having not yet learned to pack extra clothes, I was shirtless once again.

I am not sure that there was much to be learned fight the day before except to stay aware of my surroundings and do not become over confident when fighting a weaker foe. Their teamwork and numbers had more than made up for my advantage in size and strength, but I felt that if I had a stronger weapon, like the giant-ass sword Cloud wielded in Final Fantasy 7, that I would have been able to go right through them like a frog through a blender. Wearing a set of basic armor, or even a heavy leather jacket would have protected me from most of the wounds I received and the lack of wounds would have allowed me to continue on my journey instead of almost a day recovering. So nothing new knowledge was acquired from the battle. I already knew that I needed better gear.

As my stomach settled, I fished a can of beans from my backpack, opened and then drank them out of the aluminum as I took stock of my situation. My freakish healing was putting me to rights, but I was still hurting bad. My right arm was working, but every movement caused significant pain and the stab wounds were too much to be ignored. I was covered in blood and gunk from sleeping on the floor of the van, was naked from the waist up. My pants were shredded and my primary weapon had been broken. A few hours of meditation and cycling Ki should heal me up, but would leave me vulnerable during the process. I couldn’t keep running home every time I got my ass kicked, so I decided to try and put myself back together as soon as I found a safe place.

I found a nice shaded spot between the tractor and the trailer on a Paschall Truck Lines 18-wheeler and sank into a trance. I kept myself aware of my surroundings and attempted to cycle the Ki while focusing on healing. From my rate of progress I could tell that the point placed in Mind was paying off strong dividends. Since advancing my Mind it seemed like I caught onto things faster, be it my amateur pitchfork kung-fu or trying to learn how to manipulate Ki, everything was easier to understand. I even seemed to have faster reaction times. My body had sped up significantly from the two points in Body, but the one point in mind allowed me to direct it better in response to outside stimulus. I would probably not be able to enter this open minded trance that seemed to let me find enlightenment while keeping an eye out for danger if not for the added point. It was well worth the point.

Around midmorning my body was whole once more and Ki was circling through my body at a slow and steady rate. What I really liked about Ki right now, other than it healing the shit out of me, was that with hard work you can receive noticeable gains. Compared to my first attempt at cycling, my current rate was at least 30% faster from my practice sessions. If I ever had a safe place and the time to devote to it, I could probably double my original rate over the course of a week. It has also helped me learn to manipulate the Ki to reinforce my limbs. Although I currently only know how to do the Ki assisted sprinting and jumps, I was hoping to reinforce my whole body with Ki eventually. It would stack with my Body attribute and allow me strength only previously seen in comic books.

Feeling mostly whole, I shoved everything back into the backpack and shouldered it. The hatchet went back into my belt and the bow into my hands. I knocked an arrow and set off walking. The jog I had tried the day before, while not taxing in the least, did not seem like the optimal pace in this environment. Keeping alert, I went stealth mode, Solid-Snake style. I set a mental warning for any out of place noises and quickly crouched behind the nearest cover whenever I heard them while searching for its source. Most of the time I did not find anything to be wary of, but occasionally I could hear something moving through the brush off the side of the road. The sounds were not loud, something a chipmunk or squirrel would make while bouncing around on the carpet of dead leaves that lined the ground, but it was far better safe than sorry at this point. At a slow and steady pace, I continued along the highway to Cincinnati.

After an hour of cautious travel I caught the smell of smoke drifting past me on an eastward wind. I paused and crouched behind the nearest vehicle, this time a Maroon Honda CRV that looked to be in bad shape even before it was left on the road for two months. There were some small wisps of white smoke coming from near box truck which was parked off the shoulder. It smelled of burning wood and roasting meat, bringing memories of past holidays and barbeques in the sun. I crept forwards until reaching the back of the trailer taking small steps, rolling heal to toe to try and lessen the sound while channeling my inner ninja. Squatting down, I snuck a glimpse down the outer edge.

I saw the side profile of a man squatting by a small fire. In his grasp was a sharpened stick piercing meat he was roasting on the flames. A green military style duffle bag about half full lay nearby in the dirt. The clothing he was wearing were too thick to be called comfortable on a hot morning such as this. Anyone can wear jeans any day of the year and pull it off, but the thick hoodie and black beanie under it were too much. A pair of black knuckle gloves covered his hands and dirty, old Jordan’s were on his feet. His face looked heavily scarred from burns and his nose was a flap flesh with holes in it instead of a protrusion of skin covered cartilage. His ears were the same, depressions in the wrinkles on the side of his head. I honestly could not tell if he was a normal person with severe scars or if he had been changed like those I saw on the news, a monster in modern day apparel.

A few near death encounters with random dogs, rats, and skinny green skinned scavengers had left me extremely apprehensive of even talking this guy before killing him. Action is almost always better than reaction. Say what you want but even if you call it a sucker punch, the guy who hits first, hardest and doesn’t quit almost always wins a street fight. With practiced controlled breaths, I drew back on the compound bow and edged around the corner placing my arrow in the middle of his chest. There would be no arc in the shaft’s flight this close to the target. If this thing was indeed a man, this would be the first premeditated murder I had ever committed and the thought of doing so disgusted me. I wanted to be better than this. Maybe if I had still been severely injured and in dire need to avoid a confrontation there I would have been able to take his life in cold blood. But right then, I just couldn’t shoot. Easing my bow down, but still keeping it ready, I made ready to say hello.

“What’s cooking?” I asked. My usual “Howdy” had failed me with the goblin and it was time to try something new. If I had set a lighter tone at the beginning maybe the greenie wouldn’t have tried to kill me. I also thought the metaphor was applicable, with the added benefit of also being a mighty fine pun.

The encounter was not off to a good start as the man jumped up in surprise, turning while doing so to face me and pointed the browning shish kabob in my direction. He looked a little mad around the eyes and seemed to be debating poking me with the pointy end of his meat stick. Only a few moments into my attempt at being kind, I decided that was enough with this nice bullshit. Too many people take kindness for weakness.

“Settle down motherfucker, or I am putting this arrow through you. Sit on the ground and do it now!” I shouted at him. His entire demeanor changed as he cowered and flopped onto the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. He glanced around looking half afraid that I would kill him, and half afraid the shout would be bringing us company.

“Take it easy man,” The guy implored with a voice that reminded me of a stoner speaking to a neighbor who had just knocked on his door and asked him to turn town his Pink Floyd. “Don’t shoot, I won’t do anything.”

“What are you doing?” I regretted the stupid question as soon as it left my mouth, but couldn’t change it as I was not going to show weakness or indecision.

“Umm…, cooking dinner?” Simple answer to a basic question, but why did he look so guilty about it. Everyone eats dinner. I assumed he had something to hide as he scooched over towards his bag. I drew back my arrow lining it up with him again and he stopped moving. A motion with the arrow shooed him the other way and I circled around to look at the duffle.

For being confronted by a bloody shirtless guy and held at arrow point, this guy seemed to be handling this well. Of course if he was not able adapt to this new crazy world, he most likely would already have been dead.

“It’s not what it looks like man.”

On the other side of the bag, out of view of my original approach was a human’s calf and foot, cut off below the knee with a piece missing that looked like it fit on the end of his stick. Motherfucking cannibal. I drew again intending to end this abomination when he started to cry and talk. It was so sad and pathetic that I ended up listening instead of killing him.

“I didn’t wanna be like this, bro. Fucking shit tastes nasty, but it’s the only way for me to level up. I didn’t kill her but there was no point in letting it waste. I don’t want to die, man. I just want to live.” He had dropped his evil meal and was crouching down, debasing himself in an attempt to look less threatening.

“What the fuck to you mean? You don’t level up from eating people.”

“You don’t man, but I do. I’m a fucking cannibal. I didn’t ask to be one but I don’t know anyone who did.”

I lowered my bow, took a few paces back and crouched down while keeping it ready. “Explain.” I told him.

“I just did, explain what? You heard me, I’m a cannibal like some of the others. We all level from eating human flesh. We don’t have to kill them to get stronger, I haven’t killed anyone, I just eat.” The guy, dude really, trailed off while talking lost in his own little world.

“Ok, I think I might be starting to understand. My name is Darren but everyone calls me Slate. I level from killing monsters and shit. Are you saying that some people like you level from eating humans?”

“Lucky guy. Yea some people level like that too. You don’t even look fucked up like most people. Must be nice to not look like a monster. I hate this shit man, if I had the nerve I’d just kill myself, but I’m too afraid of dying.” The man was a wreck and sobbed as he lay there. I actually felt bad for him. Poor sucker did look like a rotten avocado. He just sounded like some random guy who was afflicted by the change in an awful way. I needed information though, so I kept my pity locked up and gave him a grim look.

“Explain better. Explain what happened to you, how you level, and what you know of others leveling.” I put force into my voice, letting him know that there was no other option. I would have to hear his story anyways. If he did not give me some good fucking reason, he was dead. I may not be able to commit cold blooded murder, but the cannibalism had gotten me seeing red.

“The world went to shit man, and people changed. Well you don’t look like you changed, but almost everyone else I have met has something wrong with them. I’m pretty fucked up looking, but others only have little changes. My nose and ears fell off, my face looks like runny diarrhea, my whole body looks like a burn victim’s. I kind of am though. When that light hit us it burned us, inside and out. Some people went crazy, could no longer think, and started killing and eating shit. We call those the lost. They just lost everything. The ability to think, to plan ahead, to be human. There are some that have kept their wits but became truly evil. Those are the ones that can still think and plan, but have no morals and will do whatever it takes to get stronger. A couple of them have big packs around here.”

“Packs?” I asked.

“Yea man, some of those lost that can still think have packs of the mindless ones behind them. They somehow manage to order them around and they hunt in large groups, killing and eating people where they can but smart enough to avoid tough fights. They don’t just eat people man, they are like, fucking rape monsters, bro. If they take people alive, well they’ll screw the dead too, but if they take you alive they’ll fuck you to death eventually. And when you die they eat you. They are like all base instincts and shit man.”

“So you have talked to other people? Is everyone else cannibals too?” Man I hoped not. Shit is bad enough with poorly thought out hentai style rape monsters running around.

“Can I sit up?” I motioned he could. “There are some groups out there, but they are not all Canni’s like me. Some of us are, but most Canni’s like me leading or with the groups of lost. I am one of the few that can think and feel bad about eating people. I don’t want to eat people, man. But I have get stronger somehow or I’ll die.”

“What level are you? What are your points in.” I asked.

“That’s some personal shit man, you’re not supposed to ask it. I guess I don’t have a choice though. I am level 8 but close to level 9. I got four in Canni, with 2 in Strength and 2 in Vitality.” He replied.

This guy had different stats than I did and more than twice my level. In most games, you don’t attack things double your level and expect to live through it. I would need to keep acting with confidence and make him think that I could tear him apart at will.

“You’re stats are different that mine.” I told him.

“Yea man. Have you not talked to anyone? Most people got people got different stats, although there are some types, like Canni’s, that you can tell are the same. Canni’s mostly get three stats to pick from, Cannibalism, Strength and Vitality. We start with 1 in Cannibalism, get to choose our next one, but every other level a point is placed into Canni for us. So I have only gotten to choose four points, and I split them up. Points in C allow me to level faster when we eat people. It stacks up pretty quick, and some of the lost packs are pretty strong. Strength is obvious, vitality makes you harder to hurt and you heal faster.”

“How strong are you? How fast do you heal?” This was good info, I needed more. This is the kind of intel that would keep me alive.

“Personal shit man, how would you like it if I asked this shit about you?” He was getting agitated the longer I questioned him. I pulled the string on the bow back a little and he paused. “I ain’t worried about that bow man. If you weren’t so strong I’d have made an attempt on you by now. Fucking annoying ass questions. Where you been living? Under a rock?”

“House actually, I holed up in a bunker until the sun came back up. For the past week I have been leveling, training and preparing to come into town. I need to find my girl if she is still alive, and put her in the ground if she isn’t. If I find someone’s been eating on her, I’ll kill that whole fucking pack, and everyone else that’s got a connection to them.” I let a little of my anger seep out, and he settled down again. He looked petulant. Originally I thought he was some nice little burnout, but now he seemed the kind of guy who was never satisfied with what he had. Like a worker at the Department of Motor Vehicles, he was miserable and wanted to bring everyone down with him.

“Lucky guy man. Only been out a week? How’d you level so high? You feel like you’re twice as strong as I am. If I ate a fucker like you I’d be level 10 in no time.”

“You can feel how strong I am? And you never answered the question about how strong you were physically” I returned the question in kind.

“Shit bro, you don’t know nothing. Yea man. Some guy figured the system out by putting points in strength. It’s one of the few things people could test easily. This guy was in a gym working out during the change, and knew what his max bench, squat and all that stuff was. After he got a point in strength he went back to see the difference. The best he could tell was that he was about 25% stronger across the board. Everyone thinks it’s around 25% for all upgrades, not sure if it stacks or not. As for knowing how strong you are, take a moment and look at me. It takes a bit of effort but if you focus on me you’ll just feel it. It’s something everyone gets. Some survival trick or something. You just can tell if whoever or whatever you’re facing is stronger or weaker than you are. If you’re the same, you can tell that too.”

“Go ahead man, try it out. Hell you already asked all those questions might as well try it. Go ahead. I don’t mind anymore, bro.” The guy muttered that last statement pretty fast. He must be more unstable than I thought and he seemed to be barely keeping it together. Crouching now and fidgeting back and forth, he picked up the chunk of human and started inspecting it. Checking if it was still edible maybe? Who gives a shit if it’s dirty? Does matter if your piece of roasted people had a little dirt on it before you ate it?

“Some people find it helps to close your eyes, man. It might take some time though you’re first try. It took me a bit to figure it out myself. I’ll just be cooking over here, you take your time.”

He really wanted me to do this and obviously thought he was being sneaky about it. I guess he thought he could somehow overpower me while if I was distracted. Occasionally crazy people are like that. Some feel like they are inherently smarter than others and that they can trick people into getting what they want. Well, this guy seemed to have been a moron even before he became unhinged, and I was already on DefCon4 so his juvenile attempt at subterfuge was immediately apparent. My body was still aching from the previous day’s struggles and the continuous discomfort was leaving cranky. Even though I should have continued to pump this guy for information about Cinci, I was too tired mentally and physically to care. I was out of fucks to give about this guy. His ctions would decide his fate.

I used the movement of placing my bow on the ground to conceal palming my holdout knife and positioning the blade to be hidden behind my forearm. I closed my eyelids most of the way, allowing for just a sliver of my surroundings to be visible through my eyelashes. A little Ki flowing through my legs and I was ready to try and feel his power level. Well, that was easy. It was the work of a thought to reach out judge his strength and it was an interesting sensation. Like the way the Voice just instilled me with knowledge, something about him provoked my inner fight and flight instinct. It was telling me to fight, and slaughter this weakling. It still cautioned me though, warning that my prey was not completely defenseless, but according to this sense he was not a threat to me. All and all it made sense. Even a junkie with a cheap Hi-Point 9mm can take the life of a veteran officer if the cards fell his way, but the odds were heavily stacked against him.

I stayed squatting, still pretending to be oblivious, and noticed him glancing in my direction with what he must have assumed was the upmost subtlety. He slowly repositioned his body while pretending to cook and then without warning charged with his meat stick. Everything about this guy seemed hyper exaggerated, and his forward rush as threatening as a child’s. When he was close enough, I reached under his arm to force the ridged stick of jiggling flesh up and out of the way. After redirecting his momentum I tackling him with my shoulder under his armpit. His impact with the ground while bearing the weight my body knocked the air from his lungs. Rolling him over, I quickly forced him into a rear mount and placed my knife on his throat.

“Dumbass, now tell me why…..?” I attempted to say. The crazy son of a bitch interrupted me by turning his head to bite at me. The motion, combined with the force of the knife against his neck, cut his throat for me. It was a bleeding wound and not deep, but the wet gurgling noises that were being made meant that he was probably dying. With everyone healing from shit now a days it was better to be sure about things. I readjusted and carefully rammed the knife through the base of his spine and up into his skull. My hand, slick with blood, slipped down the blade as it stopped, causing me to cut my thumb as it slid forward.

Staring down at my thumb as it leaked blood onto the growing puddle on the ground, I decided to work on my people skills. After all, I had just murdered the last three people that I had talked to.