What felt like seconds later, she woke to a sharp beep in her ears followed by Goo’s voice.

  “Mavis, there is movement at the edge of my scan zone. It is not a zombie.”

  Her eyes snapped open. She shifted into a crouch behind the counter. A monitoring window bloomed in her HUD, showing a purple outline stalking up to the back end of the front loader. Shadow stirred instantly, ears pricked. She lifted her nose, scenting the air, then exploded forward in a blur of muscle and paws scrabbling on tile.

  “Shit,” Mav hissed, spear in hand, ready to defend the dog. But instead of a cry of alarm, laughter rang out.

  “Shadow girl!”

  The clatter of dropped metal echoed. Peering around the doorframe, Mav spotted the dog on top of a man in mismatched clothes, tail lashing as she smothered his face in ecstatic licks a length of rebar laying beside them where it had been dropped.

  “How’d you survive that lil’ horde, huh?” he asked, voice thick with relief. Shadow wriggled into his chest, groaning happily as he rubbed her flanks. “Did you hide, baby girl? You smart thing.” He pressed his face to her fur. “I’ll check your feed later, but damn am I glad you’re still here.”

  “That must be LeeTech,” Mav whispered, smiling despite herself. She stepped out from the store, flipping her spear around to show the haft rather than the point. “Goo,” she murmured, “drop out of sight, but keep me an exit path.”

  “Yes, Mav.” His rotors hummed as he vanished into shadow. A thin green trail lit up on her minimap. Shadow looked over, tongue lolling, ears up. The man followed her gaze, froze, then rolled free of the dog. He crouched and reached, reacquired rebar raised defensively.

  Mav lifted her free hand, palm forward. “Easy. You must be Shadow’s companion, LeeTech?” She let the spear slide back behind her, then knelt and set it on the ground. Staying down, she kept her hand open, signaling peace.

  For a heartbeat neither moved. Shadow flicked her gaze between them, puzzled, then darted forward to nudge Mav’s hand before bounding back to bump her muzzle against the man’s chest.

  LeeTech laughed, lowering the rebar. “Well. You’ve passed the Shadow test.” Shadow confirmed it by bouncing back to Mav for another lick.

  He straightened and offered a hand. “Name’s LeeTech. Shadow’s partner. And you are…?”

  Mav clasped it firmly. “Mav—uh, Mavitsune.”

  “New to gaming?” he teased, grinning at her hesitation.

  “Mav,” she muttered, face souring. ‘Is it that obvious that I’m a noob?’ She wondered as she glanced down at her spear and back to Lee.

  “Mav it is. Grab your pigsticker and let’s move inside before we draw eyes.”

  Inside the Ace, his sigh of relief echoed. “Thank you for stashing my gear. That’s a rare move. Most players would’ve stripped it and let the rest despawn.” He turned and offered her a fist bump. “Class move, as my Brit friends say.”

  Shadow padded in behind them as Mav shoved the cinderblock out of the way and locked the door. “Come back in, Goo,” she said softly. The drone zipped through, looping around Lee and Shadow, earning a startled “oh” and a bark before settling onto her shoulder.

  “Going into recharge mode, if I may?” Goo asked.

  Mav blinked, then smirked at herself. ‘Of course he needs power.’ A meter popped into her HUD:

  AVA Power

  12% — Time to 100%: 22 minutes

  She reached up to tap his tiny frame absently. Turning, she saw that Lee was already swapping out his mismatched rags for the better gear he’d dropped when he died.

  He wore a faded denim shirt untucked over sturdy cargo pants and scuffed boots. A tan trench coat draped over the whole set, its hem brushing the tops of his boots. Two pistols and a knife hung low from the belt at his hips.

  His heavy pack looked like a traveling arsenal: a cooking pot and rolled sleeping bag clattered against one side, a compass and what might be a small tent dangled from the other. The barrel of a rifle stuck up past his shoulder, balanced by the lacquered hilt of a samurai sword on the opposite side.

  Lee set the pack down with care and brushed a hand over the top to access his inventory. From it he produced a crinkled bag of jerky in one hand and a butane burner in the other. He crouched, setting the burner on the floor, then pulled free a squat metal kettle and a plastic bottle of water. The hiss of the burner soon filled the space as the kettle began to heat. From his pack came two battered tin mugs, each with a sachet of instant coffee tucked inside.

  He tore the jerky bag open and held it out to Mav before pinching off a piece for himself. Shadow’s eyes lit up at the sound of the bag, and when Lee flicked a chunk into the air she launched halfway off the floor to snatch it cleanly, tail whipping as she munched in delight.

  “Would you join me?” Lee asked, handing Mav one of the mugs. “I’d like to share stories, if you want.”

  “Sure, I’d like that,” Mav said, pulling out the sachet and shaking it loose into her cup. She tore off a strip of jerky from the bag he’d left between them, chewing on the dense morsel. The smoky salt hit her tongue with a rush of flavor. ‘Damn, they even coded this right.’

  Lee poured steaming water into both their mugs and sat back against the counter with a long exhale. He dug out a spoon and, like a stage magician, made a flourish of handing it to her. She stirred the dark powder into froth before passing it back. He gave his cup a few deft turns.

  Raising the tin, he said, “To your health,” and took a testing sip. His face twisted. “Could use some cream,” he croaked.

  Mav took her own sip, grimaced, and rasped back, “Nope. Sugar.” They both cracked up.

  “Hang on,” she said, setting her cup down. She scouted the front of the Ace and found exactly what she expected: a dusty self-serve coffee station tucked beside the checkout. Just like in the real world, the programmers had nailed the details. She returned with two sugars and a non-dairy creamer. Handing him the creamer, she tore both sugar packets into her cup.

  They stirred, sipped again, and broke into matching smiles. The taste was still terrible, but it was better. Coffee was a ritual. Even in a digital apocalypse, even with a stranger, the motions were the same: stir, sip, adjust, grimace, laugh. People were particular about their coffee, and sharing it was its own kind of truce.

  Settling back, Mav tore another bite of jerky and gestured with her mug. “What’s your story? How’d you end up with such an amazing companion?”

  “Well, that’s kind of a long story,” Lee said, chewing his own strip of jerky, “but I’ll give you the abridged version if you really want.”

  Mav nodded, expectant. “The short of it is I consult for EN and WannaBeWayneTec.” He grinned at her immediate raised brow and icy stare. “Alright, alright… guess I don’t get off that easy.”

  He shifted against the counter, coffee in hand. Shadow curled at his knee as his expression sobered. “Truth is, I was a military war dog handler. NTAS. My dog, Kana, and I worked scout and patrol teams. We did several tours in Central, then got pulled up to the Elite Corps, deployed against Somalia warlords. She saved more lives than I can count.”

  His voice roughened, eyes darkening. He raked a hand through Shadow’s fur as though grounding himself. “On one op, Kana took a bullet meant for a man we were pulling out. Killed instantly. Hero’s death.” He paused, swallowing hard.

  Mav leaned in slightly, chest tight. ‘Arthur… could he know Arthur?’

  Lee let out a long breath. “Some things you don’t ever think you’ll come back from. That was one of them. I resigned my commission and finished my time teaching at the War Dog College. But only search and rescue. Never again trackers or scouts. I couldn’t put another handler through what I’d lived.”

  “While I was at the college I was also in therapy,” Lee continued, rubbing Shadow’s chest as she snored on her back, paws in the air. “I’d filled up with hatred for myself, hatred that I couldn’t save Kana and I’d spiraled into self-destructive habits. Toward the end, I met this crazy former Spec Ops guy who swore he had the best thing for me. Offered me a consultant’s job…”

  “Arthur?” Mavis blurted, unable to hold back. “Huge, long hair, muscley, and freaking nuts?”

  Lee blinked, eyes wide. “Uh… yeah. How the fuck do you know Arthur?”

  With a small, suspicious smile she said, “I promise I’ll tell you once you’re finished with your story.” ‘How is it I keep running into people connected to him? Small world, or setup?’

  “You better,” Lee muttered, shaking his head. “That’s one hell of a coincidence. Anyway, this long-haired musclehead is in my treatment group, offering me a crazy salary and what he calls ‘the best therapy ever, dude.’ Said I’d be beta testing canine companions for EN.”

  He stuffed the last bit of jerky back into the bag. “I figured, fuck it. What’s the worst that happens? I get my hopes up and have them crushed again?” He held up a hand, thumb and forefinger making a circle, then pinched it almost shut. “At the time, my view of life was about this narrow.”

  “Then I logged in for the first time, and Arthur introduced me to Shadow. I was shocked, flabbergasted actually, by the world’s reality and by this dog. She was perfect with all the right imperfections: goofy, willful, driven. My job was to help polish the edges of a digital canine, and damn if the team didn’t nail it.”

  Shadow stretched, legs kicking in her sleep, then flopped back into stillness. Lee stroked her chest absently, his voice softening.

  “My therapist and the dev team worked hand in hand. They built scenarios that forced me to face my thinking, the loops I kept falling into, the monkey mind chatter that drove me to self loathing. Shadow was the anchor, the focal point. She gave the developers feedback for their AGI programming, and she gave me a way to work through my shit. Win-win for everybody.” He finished off his coffee and set the cup aside.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Now we’re in field trials. Final beta testing before they roll out companions to players, replace an AVA for green or white belts. There are consultants for other species too. My job’s dogs. And I’ll tell you, it’s helped me come through the other side of loss.”

  He looked down at the dog and smiled. Mav finished her own coffee in silence, turning his words over. ‘Did Arthur send him here to keep an eye on me while he’s away? Or is this just the universe being… kindly convenient?’ Warmth stirred in her chest, but so did suspicion.

  She rinsed her mug with a splash of water from her inventory and wiped it clean with a rag before handing it back. “So, Lee, how is it that I found your canine companion alone in this freakish end of the world scenario, while you came walking back in rags and mostly weaponless?”

  Lee smirked, tucking the mug into his pack. “Well, I’d just gotten clearance to start Umbra phase testing with Shadow a few days ago. And I made the rookie mistake of not heading straight to the player encampment. Thought I’d be fine exploring.” He gestured at the store around them with a wry grin. “You saw how that turned out.”

  “Well damn,” Mav thought, lips twitching, ‘there goes my theory. I didn’t even know I’d be here a few hours ago, let alone days.’ Aloud she said, “I thought I was the noob here?”

  Lee laughed. “Even veterans screw up. I got complacent beta testing in Penumbra, where survival wasn’t quite so teeth at your throat. Same in Antumbra, plenty of action, sure, but with gaps to breathe. Umbra’s… less forgiving.” He ruffled Shadow’s fur.

  “So this is the final test then?” Mav asked. “The hardest scenario, to prove a companion’s coding holds under pressure?”

  “Exactly.” He grinned. “And the software crew did their homework. Shadow’s instincts are spot on, down to the raw survival drives. If I’d listened to her, I wouldn’t have been the one who died last round.”

  He winced at the memory, then chuckled. “She was signaling the Ace was bad news. I thought she was overreacting. She wasn’t.”

  Mav glanced at the sleeping dog, grin tugging her lips. “She fared better than you. So tell me, how did you come to be respawned?”

  “Yep, that’s the word.” He sighed. “Like I said, I ignored her. Got cocky. Walked into the back room. She whined, pawed, tried to stop me, and I still pushed the door open. Hinges screamed, and suddenly, bam. Massive wave of zeds rolling at me.”

  Mav nodded at his haunted look. She remembered the bus. The instant dread, the spike of adrenaline when you realize you might have screwed yourself fatally.

  “I gave her the fast, quiet, hide commands and tried to fight my way out.” He pointed to the empty spot where his gear had been. “That’s how far I made it. Then one of the Norms flanked me. That was that. I respawned and sprinted back here as fast as my HUD showed her still alive.”

  Looking at her with genuine gratitude, Lee cleaned his cup with a rag before willing both back into inventory. “And what do I find? A pile of finished zeds and you two, hanging out like old friends.” He leaned back against the counter with a crooked smile. “Your turn.”

  Mav hesitated. Her first instinct was to tell him why she was here, though ‘maybe not the whole bit about losing my shit and rage-logging in,’ she thought with a wry smile. Or she could stick to what she’d told Samuel. Enough to verify, not enough to break her NDAs.

  Her pause stretched too long. Lee nudged her with his boot, raising an eyebrow in mock impatience. With a sigh, she said, “Well, since you work for EN and, more importantly, know Arthur, I’ll give you some of how I got here.” She told him an abridged version, careful, clinical, just enough to check out.

  Lee listened without interruption. When she finished, he tilted his head. “So why didn’t you go into Antumbra or Penumbra? If you’re new to gaming, wouldn’t those have been smarter?” Mav’s face darkened, not at him but herself. Before he could apologize she laughed lightly and shook her head.

  “It’s a fair question, Lee. One I’m ashamed to answer. Truth is, I made a mistake. Picked the wrong scenario when I had the choice. Now I’m stuck here until I level high enough to reach the choice point again… or until the medical trial ends.”

  “Well, it’s good you ended up in the anchor server then,” Lee said as he packed up the last of his meal kit. “EN just doubled world server capacity, and you must be somewhere near the Wannabe HQ. This one’s the anchor for the quantum holographic expansion. Every other server runs as a holographic extension of it, all tied into the AGSI here. If you weren’t close, you could’ve ended up playing on a shard with folks in IndoAustralia or the EU.”

  ‘That’s why he’s here,’ Mav realized, the logic clicking into place. ‘This is the web’s center, the testing ground, for Shadow, maybe even for me.’

  She tilted her head, testing the thought aloud. “So, am I just going to run into EN and Wannabe employees here, or are there others?” She flicked her gaze to her HUD clock. ‘Not bad. I thought more time had passed. Time feels strange in this desolate world.’

  PGT – 4:54:02 / ERWT – 0:29:40 / GT – 9:56:58AM.

  “No,” Lee answered, pulling her focus back. “You’ll run into plenty more. The three anchor servers were first online, so they’ve got some of the oldest beta testers from around the world, along with most of the staff and locals in the NC territory and beyond. Basically…” He spread his hands wide, gesturing around. “It’s the whole planet. Lots of room.”

  “But your chances of bumping into EN or WBWT staff here are higher,” he added, wiping his palms on his pants before rising. “So don’t be surprised.” He slung his pack into place, then looked at her. “So. What’s your next move?”

  Shadow opened one lazy eye, then groaned and stretched, tail high, chest low, hind legs straight, dog yoga, a miniature sun salutation. She shook nose to tail and trotted off to scout the front windows.

  Mav mirrored her with a stretch, easing stiffness from her back and hips. “I still need some metalworking supplies. Goggles for the weaponsmith back at the encampment. Then I head back.” She hefted her pack onto the counter, dust scattering.

  Lee drew both pistols, laying them neatly beside six clips and his knife. He glanced at her with a crooked grin. “Better prepared than dead… again.”

  She smirked and set out her own loadout, her 9mm, .22, spare clip, speed loader, knife, and spear. She checked ammo, inspected blades, and frowned at the looseness where her spearhead joined the haft.

  Lee finished his checks and watched her search for a fix. Nodding, he ducked into the aisles. When he returned, he carried nylon rope and a tube of epoxy.

  “Here,” he said, handing it to her. Together they smeared glue around the spear joint and bound it tight with rope, the layers crisscrossing in snug circles. Once it set, the wobble was gone. Mav grinned, tucking the leftovers into her pack. ‘Packrat,’ she scolded herself with a laugh, already imagining what else she might hoard.

  Through the grime coated windows, the light had shifted, grayer now, clouds pushing in from the west. She wiped at the glass and leaned close, tracking their steady march. “Well. Another new experience for me.” She said pointing out the window.

  Lee frowned at the horizon. Shadow whined low, ears twitching. The distant roll of thunder followed. “Storm,” he muttered. He flicked through his HUD, and in a blink his trench had been swapped for a knee-length green coat with a hood. “Parka,” he explained at her raised brow. “You might find another in the back, I grabbed this right before I died.” His smile was rueful.

  Mav nodded and searched the racks of Carhartt workwear. Most were tagged Ruined. The few intact were XXL and useless. Muttering about realism, she returned empty handed.

  “Nothing?” Lee asked. She shook her head. He sighed. “You’re not actually thinking of traveling in this storm, are you?” His tone carried concern.

  “I’m not sure,” she admitted, leaning on the counter. “Two guys told me to hunker down and wait it out. The third said, ‘what’s a little rain in the apocalypse?" Nearly started a brawl between them.” Her grin turned sly.

  “Arthur?” Lee asked knowingly.

  “Well of course,” she laughed. “Still, I’m only a mile from the port. Ten, fifteen minutes. I can beat the worst of it and hunker down there.”

  Lee nodded thoughtfully. “That’s what I’d do. Risk balanced with reward. But given your situation, downtime might be as important as uptime, don’t you think?”

  ‘Of course the smart move would be to log out,’ she thought. ‘But what if I miss a neural spark, the signal chain that could heal me?’ Her lips firmed. “Like Arthur said, a little rain won’t kill me. If it gets bad, I’ll hide in a car and log from there.”

  Lee gave her a skeptical look, then shrugged with a smile. “Fair enough. Now that I’ve got Shadow and my gear, thanks to you, I need to log. Real-world calls.” He flicked his fingers, sending a glowing card into her HUD.

  The blue-lined rectangle shimmered: LeeTech. She reached out, and it flipped.

  Player “LeeTech” would like to add you to their friends list.

  [Yes][No][Later]

  Mav chose [Yes]. The card burst into motes that drifted into the floor.

  Player “LeeTech” has been added to your friends list

  “Cool.” Lee smiled. He looked out at the storm, then back at her. “Given the weather, I’m logging in back. Parka or not, I’m not getting soaked. I’ll ping you when I’m back.”

  “Sounds good.” Mav grimaced at the dark clouds, then smirked. “Guess I’m getting wet as I continue south.” She bent, wrapped her arms around Shadow’s neck, and bumped foreheads with her before kissing her snout. Shadow hummed with pleasure and leaned into the touch.

  Reluctantly, Mav let go and stood. Shadow pressed against her leg one last time before trotting after Lee. Tail swishing, she tilted her head for a scratch, and he obliged absently as they disappeared into the store’s shadows.

  Another rumble of thunder shook the glass. Mav groaned, cinched her straps, and picked up her spear. “Wake up, lazy bones. We’ve got work.”

  On her shoulder, Goo stirred. The solar panels folded in with a soft click, his rotors whining as he lifted off in a wobble. A yawn filled her ear.

  “Oooooh, nice nap. Where’d Lee and Shadow go?”

  “They had to log. Do a perimeter scan for me?” she asked as she cracked the door.

  “On it.” Goo zipped out into the wind. Her HUD stayed clear.

  “All clear, Mav. But… uh, were you aware there’s a storm out here?” His voice was edged with worry.

  “Yes, Goo,” she said, stepping into the gusts. She shut the door behind her and jogged lightly onto the highway. Wind shoved at her shoulder. A raindrop spattered her hair, then lightning tore the sky wide, thunder chasing close behind. She glanced at the sky with a sigh, resigning herself to a wet run.

  “Yeah, Mav, I’m weatherproof,” Goo replied. “Save for a gale force wind when I’m flying, I’ll be fine. But are you sure we should be out here? Mrs. Jim and Bobby both said traveling in the rain could be dangerous.”

  “Well, that’s why I have you!” Mav shot back, breath puffing in rhythm with her jog. “You warn me of dangers I might miss.” She picked her path carefully between stalled cars and broken debris, her eyes flicking to the shadows.

  “If it gets too bad, we’ll stop. But the port’s just over a mile. We can cover that quickly. What do you think?” She gave him a quick grin while angling wide around a rusted van, two red outlines pulsed inside it on her HUD, slumped but still dangerous.

  “That sounds reasonable,” Goo conceded. His voice sharpened. “But, there’s a pileup ahead. Several Mundane and one Normal class zombie trapped inside. I suggest going right.”

  As he spoke, the outlines ghosted into her HUD: red silhouettes twisted in contorted positions, strapped into seats or jammed under crumpled dashboards. One orange glow flickered faintly, more aware, more dangerous.

  Mav veered right, pumping her arms harder. She closed on a sedan, crouched, then leapt. Activating Moon Landing, she floated high and light over the back of the car. Her momentum carried her forward, a surreal weightlessness lasting a breath too long. Her foot skimmed the trunk’s edge, she pushed off, landing in a long stride that carried her back into rhythm.

  ‘Never thought I’d say this, but gaming can be kinda cool,’ she thought with a grin that cut through the rain.

  The grin didn’t last. The drizzle thickened into a hammering downpour, each drop heavy enough to sting as it slapped her scalp and shoulders. Her clothes clung, water running down her spine. The grin slid off her face.

  ‘Then again…’ She measured the chill automatically, comparing it to memory: long races run in cold rain, where grit mattered more than comfort. This was the same. The game didn’t cheat the body. Dark clouds pressed down, the world dimming into a false twilight. The hiss of rain swallowed detail, blurring distance, muting sound. Her HUD picked out the faint white letters almost too late:

  Port Hydelage - Exit - 64B ? Mile.

  Her shoes slapped the wet pavement, rhythm turning squishy with every step. She stared at the sign, lip curling into a wry half-smile. ‘Half a mile. What could go wrong?’ The storm swallowed the road ahead, but the world had already decided her answer.