Marlow closed the door behind him. He pulled on the knob to assure himself that the door was closed. That whoever owned this building would come back to a Hen House. None the wiser that a thief had stolen an egg.

He took the steps down and gently tapped his pocket, reassuring himself that the egg hadn’t cracked. A few distinct voices echoed down the street. Not wanting any trouble, he started walking away from the scene faster.

“A fool got back over here. Where do you think you're going at a time like this? It's already past curfew. Why don't you ride with us to get where you're going?”

Marlow ignored them. He kept his head down until he picked up his pace. He turned around a corner when a tall hooded figure stepped out from a dumpster with a knife pointed directly at him.

“I do what the man said. You never know who can be out at this hour.” Came a scratchy voice. Marlow hesitated at the mugger ahead, scared he took a step back. Bumping into a blubbery wall of a man.

“At a boy. Now do us a favor and show big Bill what you got.” Grumbled the large man. His hand landed on Marlow’s shoulder, which pinned him in place.

“What?”

“Empty your pockets. How else do we know if you got the right amount of goods, so we can give you a mugging pass? Come on, fool, this is basic hoodlum sense one-oh-one.”

“I got nothing.” The large man chuckled if this joke he had heard a thousand times before. Each time finding it funnier than the last.

“That's what they all say, have at him, boys.”

“PLEASE DON’T HURT ME!”

The hand on his shoulder pushed hard, sending Marlow into a skeletal figure. He felt the person's ribs as they both fell to the ground.

“Whatcha hiding there?” The lanky man spoke. His voice was scratchy like nails on a chalkboard. Marlow fumbled as his hand protectively hovered over his pocket as he rolled off the skeletal man.

“I think he does have something! Ain’t that right, Big Bill?”

“I do believe you're right! What's there to be afraid of? It’s not like we're going to take your life or anything. Bill got the ‘Honorary Mugging Code’ to live up to.” Presumably, Bill spoke, his quadruple chins swaying with every vowel.

“I-I don’t want to give it up.”

“Well, too bad, it's just another part of mug-in” Bill nodded his head. The skeletal man reached from his prone position and plucked the opal egg from his pocket.

“IT’S AN EGG, BOSS!”

“Why, thank you, stranger, for being so polite to procure us an egg. I now give you a ‘Big Bill Mug-in pass.’ After all, this egg will do more good for us than it will ever do for you.” Bill nodded his head again. The knife man walked forward, pulling out a tiny wooden plaque before giving it to Marlow. On the plaque, it read ‘Big Bil Mugin pas.’

“I don’t want your mugging pass; I want my egg back!”

“Sorry, muggy, but when you're top brass, it's just how the world works.” The Skeletal man stood up and attempted to sneak away with this shiny egg. When Marlow turned around and lunged.

The pair fell to the ground with the egg slipping between the frail man's thin fingers. Another gang member stepped forward and grasped the egg, only to bounce it out of his grip. The glimmering egg flew up words, and a dexterous fellow jumped, using the wall to intercept the egg. The fellow snatched the egg but found her landing pad to be a tin trash can.

She tossed it to Bill. Marlow had just gotten to his feet when Bill botched the catch. He managed to smack it in the general direction of the first gang member who tossed it skyward.

Marlow jumped for it, his finger stretched out, hoping his open palm would snag midair egg. Instead, the egg bobbed as it thumped into his hand. Marlow smiled as he slammed onto the rough cobblestone street. Egg clutch tightly in his hand. What could go wrong?

“You brat! That's our-”

“OI, WHAT YOU LOUSY PUNKS DOING!” Bellowed a robust man who struggled to hold black his Belgian Sheepdog.

“Oh, Benson, we were just-”

“WHAT? ARE YOU MUGGING PEOPLE ON MY PROPERTY!”

“Oh no, Benson, we were just.….”

“I THOUGHT WE HAD AN AGREEMENT. ARE YOU GOING TO KEEP YOUR END OF THE BARGAIN? OR AM I GONNA HAVE TO SICK, MR. BONES ARE YA?” The dog barked, which caused the thugs to begin sweating.

“No, we were just demonstrating how-”

“YA KNOW WHAT, PARTNER, WHY DON’T WE ASK THE KID AND SEE WHAT HE THINKS?”

“I don’t think that would be necessary.”

“NO, NO, I INSISTED.” The robust Samoan man shook his arm. Bill flinched. As he turned to Marlow, a nervous but devilish smile plastered on his face.

“Well, explain to the good man that we were demonstrating how important a mugging pass is.”

“He’s-” Marlow's heart thumped in his chest. The egg wrapped in his hand wobbled with each thump. If he said they were doing something, they’d be on him in a second, but if he didn’t say anything, they’d go back to mugging.

“HELP, I’m getting mugged!”

“You idiot!” Bill roared while Benson smiled as he let go of Mr. Bones' leash. Mr. Bones hesitated, caught in between the moment of freedom and loyalty. Big Bill’s gang, seeing the loose dog, turned and ran with so many moving parts. This triggered the base instincts of most herding dogs. Mr. Bones bounded off, barking at fleeing thieves.

The thugs broke like water, spreading out, not wanting to get bitten by the two-foot black lab. Bill rushed past Marlow and almost past the dumper where the knife man was hiding. When Mr. Bones leaped on top of the whale of a man.

“NOOOOO, GET IT OFF ME, GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!” Marlow was stunned as he watched Mr. Bones terrorize Bill. Until a shadow fell over him. He turned to see Benson standing over him.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THIS NECK OF THE WOODS, MISTER.”

“I was…” If this man owned this street, he held most of the buildings. Which told him he’d just stolen from his savior. He didn’t want to get sick, so he would do the next best thing. Lie.

“I was just going about my business when I saw these hoagies. Break into one of these buildings, so I followed them. I caught them red-handed trying to take one of your eggs. So I stole it back.”

Benson stood there staring at Marlow, his gaze like the blazing sun on the empty desert. Marlow wanted to escape, but that might draw Mr. Bones’ attention. He didn’t want to be a chew toy judging by Bill’s screams.

“WELL, I’M GONNA GIVE YOU TWO OPTIONS. EITHER YOU ‘A’ HAND ME BACK MY EGG, AND WE PART WAYS. OR ‘B’ I HIRED TO COME TIL MY FIELDS.” Benson dropped his cowboy accent.

“B?”

“AT A BOY, NOW LET’S GET YOU FIXED UP!” Benson held out a calloused hand for Marlow to grab. The instant Marlow clasped hands Benson, he was hauled to his feet.

“SO, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IN THIS WORLD, PARTNER?”

“About twelve days.”

“WHAT?”

“ABOUT TWELVE DAYS.”

"WHAT?”

“ABOUT TWELVE DAYS,” Marlow shouted again, taking a step closer.

“AH, WELL, HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO START WORK FOR YOUR FOOD? INSTEAD OF BEING A DIRTY FREELOADER.”

“I’d guess I’d like that!”

‘WHAT?”

“I’D LIKE THAT!”

“THEN I, BENSON, GRAND MASTER OF THE HARVEST, WITH THIS TAKE YOU AS MY APPRENTICE.” Benson straightened his arm like a king about to knight a squire. He tapped each of Marlow’s shoulders before bonking him on the head.

“OW?”

“HE-HE, I’M GONNA WORK YOU TO THE BONE. GOOD TO KNOW THAT I WON’T BE THE ONLY ONE BUSY TONIGHT. HA-HA! COME ON, LET'S GET A MOVE ON. MR. BONES, COME!” Mr. Bones released his chew toy and trotted up to Benson.

“Shouldn’t we return the egg?”

“NAH, IT’S ABOUT TO HATCH ANYWAY, AND WE GOT A LOT TO DO AND TOO LITTLE TIME TO DO IT!” Benson chuckled as he picked up Mr. Bones’ leash. The three of them walked away from the crime scene left behind.

Marlow’s stomach grumbled. It would be awkward to ask for a handout right after he’d been saved. He’d hoped that it wouldn’t disrupt whatever Benson had in mind. That would be so embarrassing.

Benson smiled and waved as they passed gangs who looked their way. As if it was customary to walk past thugs sharpening their knives. A few gazes lingered on Marlow, eyeing him up.

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT THEM!” Benson ‘whispered’, with his ‘small’ voice that cracked like a whip in the tense street. Marlow began to sweat. He’d just traded one fate for another. First, they would surround them, and then he would die. Not sure how, but twelve days in, he would die. Sorry, Mom and Dad, I’ll see you at the pearly gates. Benson chuckled as Marlow slowed down.

“GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE GROUND, KID. YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT I WILL BE PUTTING YOU ON. FINALLY, I HAVE SOMEONE I CAN PUT TO WORK AND NOT PAY! HAHA, TODAY IS A GLORIOUS DAY!”

Yep! That was it. He was a dead man walking. His body just didn’t know it yet. Goodbye, new world! It was unpleasant to be in your smelly pits.

Benson took Marlow on the longest walk of his life. Leading him from the knife-to-neck ghettos back into the elbow-rubbing town square, out into the spacious suburbs, and even further beyond into the cookie-cutter affluent neighborhood. All the while, Benson jiggled as if he was holding back a joke so funny he couldn’t tell it.

Benson turned past a pale house, cutting through their will-trimmed flowers. As he made his way to their mile-wide apple orchard. Marlow hesitantly followed in Benson’s exasperated footsteps. While Mr. Bones leaped alongside them.

“NO NEED TO WORRY ABOUT THE FLOWERS, THE OWNER GENETICALLY BREED THEM TO NOT HAVE THORNS!” Benson beamed at Marlow. As they turned into the stranger's backyard, Marlow spotted three silos, each placed on top of a hill shadowing a different crop field.

“WELCOME TO THE MCGLEAN FAMILY FARM! GRAB A BASKET AND PICK FROM TREES THAT I PICK.” Benson roared as his arms shot up towards the sky. Which was followed by some dramatic evil cackling.

“Where are the baskets?”

“THERE ARE RIGHT THERE. NOW COME ON, WE HAVE FOUR WEEKS TO HARVEST AS MUCH AS WE CAN!” A pale blue text bubble appeared in Marlow’s vision.

Quest alert! Baby steps: Bring Benson 1,000 to 3,000 good apples. Reward Variable: Bed for the night, Employment from Grandmaster Harvester Benson, or class information. Accept / Decline

“Hey, Benson? Something happened.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN? OH! THE BABY STEP QUEST! TAKE IT. YOU ARE GONNA NEED ALL THE HELP YOU CAN GET!”

“How?”

“JUST LIKE ANY OTHER QUEST, ACCEPT IT.” Bufuzzled Marlow, lifted his finger and poked at the screen. The screen was pushed away before Marlow tapped the ‘accept’ option. The instant he did, the text bubble vanished.

Marlow followed Benson’s lead as he picked up a basket from behind the stranger’s house. With Benson taking the reins on which tree they picked first. The apples in this new world seemed a bit too yellow.

“Hey Benson, what’s with these apples?”

“THESE ARE GINGER GOLD APPLES, KID. THEM NOBLES LOVE THIS STUFF. ESPECIALLY WHEN THE ROYAL CHEF BAKES IT INTO HIS FAMILY APPLE PIE. THEY’LL GO BANANAS IF SOMEONE RUINS IT.”

“You don’t have to yell. I’m only three feet away.”

“I’M SORRY, BUT I CAN’T. I LOST MY HEARING TO A DEMON. IT SET A BOMB OFF RIGHT NEXT TO ME.”

“A demon!”

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT. I SENT IT CRAWLING BACK TO ITS WIMPY REALM. OH, DON’T TAKE THAT ONE. JUST LOOK AT THE BROWN IT’S TOO SOFT TO SERVE.”

“So where do I put it?” Marlow questioned as he turned to find no semblance of any sort of trash can anywhere. Turning back, he saw Benson toss a wrinkly apple over his shoulder.

“What position did you hold?’

“CAPTAIN.”

“What was the war about?”

“LAND, RESOURCES, BETTER LIVING CONDITIONS, TO PROVE SUPERIORITY. YOU NAME IT, WE FOUGHT OVER IT.”

“What was your most memorable battle?”

“WELL, WHEN HUMANS HELD MOST OF THE CONTINENT. WOLFMEN WERE A LOT RISKIER WITH THEIR UNITS. SO THEY MADE BLOOD SACRIFICES TO THEIR INFERNAL DEITY. SO THEIR TROOPS COULD BE PUPPETS TO IMPS. THOSE POOR SOULS WERE TRANSFORMED INTO BLOOD-THIRSTY TERRORS!” Benson paused. His face grew slack as his picking slowed.

“THOSE WERE DARK DAYS… BUT NOW THERE ARE GONE.” Marlow coughed as the awkward silence grew.

“What about this one? Too ripe?” Benson looked up, breaking from his stupor.

“NO, THAT ONE IS GOOD.” Silence grew as the pair of them picked. Marlow’s basket grew heavy as it nearly reached halfway full. Which caused Marlow to put the basket down.