Chapter 21: Inventory

  Glances went around the table.

  Cole could feel them measuring him, wondering if he might be the answer to their problems.

  He didn’t like it.

  He closed his eyes briefly, mastered his expression, and when he opened them again he kept his face as blank as he could. His body wanted to sag. He had walked through a rift and into a warzone, killed an elite, and then walked into a room with three tired strangers who looked like they hadn’t slept in days.

  In the dungeon, monsters tried to kill you.

  Out here, people tried to claim you.

  “Let’s start with what you all know,” Cole said slowly. “I don’t want to explain things you’re already aware of.”

  Seth snorted.

  “We know about as much as a pig knows about Sunday.” He leaned forward, tapping one of his big fingers on the table like the sound might force answers into existence.

  Alina spoke up before he could barrel into a rant.

  “We know that whatever this is, it’s called the Convergence.” Her voice was calm, but her hands told the truth. The fingers of her right hand kept worrying at the edge of her sleeve, pinching and releasing, pinching and releasing. “We know that right after that, monsters started attacking. Earthquakes happened in many areas. We even got a brief glimpse of the news, before it went out, that started saying that some experts were reporting that the world was getting bigger somehow. We know people started getting classes, stats, and access to mana.”

  She swallowed. The room felt smaller after she said it, like the walls didn’t want to hear the rest.

  Naomi picked up, voice quieter. “That’s when it started getting really bad.”

  Cole took a deep breath before she could continue. He could already guess.

  “People began to hurt each other, didn’t they?”

  The mousy girl nodded. Her glasses slid down her nose from sweat and she pushed them back up, then immediately started twisting the pen between her fingers again, like it was the only thing keeping her hands from shaking.

  “Yes,” she said. “When people understood they got experience for killing things, leading to level ups and power… massacres started.”

  Her eyes flicked to Seth, then to Alina, like she was checking whether she’d said too much.

  “One man controls the whole east side of the city now.”

  Cole felt Seth’s posture change. The big man’s shoulders tightened like he wanted to stand up and put his fist through something.

  Naomi looked down. “He’s enslaved people. It’s horrible.”

  Cole didn’t speak for a moment. He stared at the cheap plastic tabletop and the small gouges in it, as if that mattered. As if focusing on something stupid could stop his brain from sprinting ahead to the thought that had been chewing at him since the moment the doctor said phones were dead.

  Nathan.

  No way to call. No way to text. No way to check a location. No way to see if he was safe.

  Just a name in his head and a photo in his pocket.

  Seth growled, low and rough, dragging Cole back into the room. “Then there’s these blasted monster waves attacking us. We think it’s coming from below a collapsed parking structure, but we can’t get close. Too many monsters concentrated there. But that’s what makes us think there’s something there.”

  Cole leaned back in his seat. The chair creaked, the sound sharp in the quiet.

  A collapsed parking structure.

  A concentration point.

  Waves.

  It wasn’t random. It wasn’t just “the world ended and monsters happened.”

  Something was feeding it.

  A monster rift. A source.

  He watched their faces as the idea settled in him. They weren’t saying “rift” yet. They were saying “something there.” Like they were afraid that naming it would make it real.

  “Who’s the highest level here?” Cole asked.

  Seth didn’t hesitate. “Tanner, technically.”

  Cole’s eyes flicked to Alina. The doctor’s mouth tightened like she’d bitten into something sour and was trying not to react. That told Cole plenty before Seth even continued.

  “A smarmy lawyer he might be,” Seth said, “but he’s been helpful and he’s got a surprising aptitude for combat. He went to scout out that area I was telling you about, hadn’t been seen for days. We thought he was dead till he came back after you cleared that wave.”

  “Tanner,” Cole repeated.

  He pictured the man from earlier. Lean. Suit in tatters, but somehow still wearing it like he thought the world was a courtroom and everyone else was an inconvenience. He’d come limping in with two others and eaten food while everyone else watched like it was a miracle.

  Cole had seen that kind of man before.

  The kind that knew how to make himself necessary.

  “Is Tanner your only fighter?” Cole asked. “Surely you all have combat classes.”

  Naomi squirmed a bit, like the chair had suddenly turned uncomfortable. “Not exactly.”

  Cole waited. He could have pushed. He didn’t. He just sat there and let the silence do the work.

  Naomi sighed, then said, “We know everyone is capable of fighting, but it doesn’t mean everyone is willing to. Most are scared. They want someone else to protect them.”

  Cole grunted.

  It would be easy to judge that. Easy to sit here with a staff in his hand and call them cowards. Easy to pretend he’d always been brave.

  He tried to understand their perspective instead. Tried to remember that most people weren’t built for constant violence. Most people lived their lives without ever throwing a punch. Most people had never even seen a dead body up close.

  Cole would have counted himself among them until he was actually presented with the choice to fight, die, or let others die.

  And with what he knew about the System, that was probably the point.

  A crucible. Pressure. A world that demanded decisions.

  Those who couldn’t make it either died, or they fell under the thumb of those who could.

  Seth studied him as he thought, seeming to read the line of his mind even if he didn’t know what “title” meant or what it had done to Cole. Seth had the look of someone who had lived through enough hard days to recognize a hard thought when he saw it.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Finally, Cole blew out a breath.

  “Fine. What are people doing, then?”

  Naomi spoke up again. “Well… some people prepare meals. Clean. Or they help with the wounded. We have rotations for water runs from the nearby hydrants, even though the pressure’s bad. We have a sanitation area. We have… a lot of people watching kids.”

  Cole held up a hand, cutting her off. He didn’t mean to. It was just that the words landed wrong.

  He was incredulous.

  “Let me get this straight,” Cole said. “You have a bunch of people essentially doing nothing? Just waiting around? Cleaning, helping with the wounded, that’s all good, but what practical things are you doing? Did no one try experimenting? Surely someone around here has some idea how to build things. Support the walls. Make a forge and forge something up. I bet there’s one or two amateur smiths here.”

  He saw Seth’s jaw tighten. Saw Naomi stiffen like she’d been slapped. Saw Alina’s face go careful and neutral.

  Cole realized he was leaning forward.

  He sat back again, forcing his shoulders down.

  He wasn’t trying to be cruel. He just couldn’t understand it. Not when monsters were literally crawling over the walls.

  “I’ve said the same thing,” Seth rumbled. “I know of a few people who are handy, who could smith. But no one has gotten them to do anything.”

  Cole glared at the man before he could stop himself.

  “Why not? You’re a leader here. You know them. Why not get them to do anything?”

  Seth returned the glare. For a second, the room felt like it might explode. Two exhausted men who had both been carrying too much and were sick of hearing how they weren’t carrying it the right way.

  “It hasn’t been a picnic here,” Seth snapped. “Just organizing to get people fed has been a chore and a half. Waves come quickly. People have families too. Then getting people resettled after a wave takes time.”

  Cole heard it as excuses.

  That was the problem. He knew he was hearing it that way, and he couldn’t stop it.

  He never considered himself much of a leader. He’d led shifts. He’d trained new drivers. He’d handled angry customers. He’d done the quiet work of keeping a home running when his marriage was cracking.

  But this was something else.

  He shook his head slowly.

  “Okay,” Cole said. “What do you three do, then? Clearly people look to you as being in charge.”

  Alina nodded, a little stiff, like she was refusing to be offended. “I handle the wounded. Healing. We do have volunteers and an area set aside for that.”

  She sounded like she was trying to convey that they were not entirely incompetent.

  Naomi lifted her clipboard like it was a shield. “Quartermaster. Logistics. Limited scouting. Inventory and rationing.”

  Seth leaned back in his chair, arms folding over his flannel. “Security. Order. I also have a group of people who keep watch on the wall for incoming waves.”

  Cole studied them.

  Doctor. Logistics. Security.

  It was a triangle of survival, and it was already cracking at the edges because there wasn’t enough of anything. Food, weapons, time. Just not enough.

  And then he thought of the east side warlord.

  Someone out there was building power the fast way. Blood and fear and control.

  Cole’s stomach turned.

  He looked at Seth. “How many people here?”

  Seth didn’t look at Naomi for the answer, which told Cole Seth paid attention. “Couple hundred. Maybe more. People drift in. People drift out. Some die. Some get taken. Some leave because they think they can do better.”

  “Do you stop them?”

  Seth’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t have fences. We’ve got walls made out of stacked pallets and sheet metal and hope.”

  Cole nodded once. That told him plenty too.

  Loosely put together. A pocket of people who hadn’t been eaten.

  Cole tapped his finger once on the table.

  “Okay,” Cole said. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  Naomi’s pen froze for half a second, then started moving again like her life depended on it.

  Cole spoke carefully, trying not to sound like he was issuing orders.

  He didn’t want to become that.

  “First,” he said, “I’m going to tell you a little bit of what I know. Most of it won’t help you that much, but it’s something.”

  Seth made a sound like he was skeptical but willing.

  “Secondly, you’re going to gather anyone who has any knowledge of how to make anything,” Cole continued. “Anything at all. Welding. Carpentry. Metalwork. Even just a guy who watches YouTube and thinks he can build a backyard forge. I don’t care. They need to work on making real weapons.”

  Naomi nodded fast. “Okay. Okay.”

  “Even if it is just spears,” Cole said. “Long ones. Cheap ones. Something you can stab with from behind cover.”

  Seth grunted approval at that, small but real.

  “Another group needs to work on making a palisade,” Cole said. “The fact that monsters can just walk up to the walls without any obstacle is atrocious. You need stakes. Pits if you can manage it. Trip lines. Something. Anything. Monsters shouldn’t be able to rush your gate in a straight line.”

  Alina’s brows drew together. “We don’t have heavy equipment.”

  “Then you do it the ugly way,” Cole said. “Shovels. Rebar. Broken metal. Concrete chunks. You have a warehouse. You have pallets. You have forklifts that don’t work but still weigh a ton. Use what you have.”

  Naomi’s pen scratched like a frantic insect.

  “Finally,” Cole said, “you need to convince more people to fight. I know many don’t want to, but you need to do it.”

  Seth opened his mouth, probably to say something about fear, trauma, kids, exhaustion.

  Cole raised a hand before the argument could start.

  “I’m not saying throw people into the grinder,” Cole said. “I’m saying you need shifts. Training. Basic drills. Even if it’s just teaching them how to hold a spear and keep steady when something screams. And you need roles. Some would be front line fighter. Someone can carry water. Someone can haul wounded. Someone can reload magazines for the people who do have guns.”

  Seth’s eyes sharpened at that last part. Cole caught it.

  Guns.

  Cole believed guns could be effective. He’d seen it just now. He’d watched people put rounds into monsters and slow them, hurt them, sometimes kill them.

  But he also knew the ugly truth.

  Guns were tools.

  Classes were multipliers.

  And without a class or profession that made a gun more than a gun, you were still just a human with a loud stick that ran out of bullets.

  Cole kept his face neutral anyway.

  “In fact,” Cole said, “gather me a group of people, and I will go out with them. A scouting trip to find supplies.”

  Seth stared. “You’re offering to walk out there with a bunch of amateurs.”

  Cole shrugged. “Yes.”

  “Why,” Seth said, and there was suspicion in it now. “What do you get out of that?”

  Cole almost laughed.

  He got motion. Purpose. A task.

  He got to avoid sitting alone somewhere with his own thoughts and that photo burning a hole in his pocket.

  But he didn’t say any of that.

  He just said, “We need supplies. You need supplies. We can solve more than one problem at a time.”

  Naomi’s head bobbed. “We do need supplies. Food. Batteries. Medical. Tools.”

  “Batteries won’t help if nothing works,” Seth muttered.

  Naomi’s face tightened. “Habit.”

  Cole turned to Alina. “I will tell you what I know about alchemy.”

  Alina’s eyes widened. The exhaustion didn’t vanish, but something lit behind it. Hope, sharp and dangerous.

  “I can’t guarantee the System will give you the profession,” Cole said. “Especially as you use mana and I don’t. But maybe you’ll figure it out.”

  Alina nodded quickly, eager. “Even a chance is something.”

  “If not,” Cole continued, “I’ll see what I can do about making some spare potions for you with whatever we can gather from the supply run.”

  Alina swallowed. “Potions would change everything.”

  Cole didn’t argue. He’d lived the difference. He’d watched a mend potion close wounds like reality was embarrassed it had let them happen.

  Cole considered what else would be needed.

  A map. A command chain. A plan for if Seth died. A plan for if Alina ran out of mana. A plan for if Naomi cracked and started making ration decisions that got people killed.

  But he didn’t say any of that.

  He could see how frayed they were. He could see the way Seth’s anger was the only thing keeping him upright. He could see the way Naomi kept writing because stopping would mean she had to feel. He could see the way Alina kept her voice steady because if she sounded scared, everyone would break.

  Cole let out a slow breath.

  “Is there somewhere I can stay?” he asked.

  Alina stood immediately, like she’d been waiting for the chance to do something that wasn’t discussing monsters and death.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’ll show you.”

  Cole stood as well.

  “Thanks,” he said, then looked at Seth. “Let me know if another wave hits.”

  Seth waved a hand in acknowledgement, but his eyes stayed on Cole, sharp and assessing.

  Cole followed Alina out into the hall.

  The building smelled like dust and sweat and old cardboard. Tarps covered holes in the floor. The walls had gouges in them, like claws had tested the structure and decided it wasn’t worth the effort to tear down.

  As they walked, Cole heard distant voices, crying, arguing, someone laughing.

  Alina led him past a doorway where he saw cots lined up. People lying on them with blank faces. Bandages. A few blood stained towels.

  She glanced at him, catching his look.

  “Some of them are too afraid to sleep,” Alina said quietly. “They think if they close their eyes, they’ll wake up to screaming again.”

  Cole didn’t answer. He didn’t trust his voice.

  They turned another corner. The warehouse itself loomed through a window, huge and gray. Beyond it, the crude wall line, the yard, the broken gates.

  “Do you sleep?” Alina asked.

  Cole’s throat tightened.

  He thought of the dungeon. Of stone corridors. Of hunger. Of a boss that had nearly killed them. Of a choice that had not felt like a choice at all.

  He thought of Nathan.

  He forced his face to stay neutral.

  “I don’t know,” Cole said.

  Alina nodded.

  They reached a small side room. A cot. A thin blanket. A bucket. A tiny window with a crack in it.

  “It’s not much,” Alina said.

  “It’s fine,” Cole replied.

  She hesitated in the doorway, She wanted to ask him if he was a saint, or a monster, or just a man who had walked out of a rift with a staff made of shadow.

  She settled for something safer.

  “We’ll call you if something happens,” Alina said. “If another wave hits.”

  Cole nodded.

  Alina left.

  The door clicked shut.

  Cole stood there in the quiet, staring at the cot.

  He could feel the weight of his staff in his hand. Could feel the soft presence of it, like it was listening even when it didn’t speak.

  He knew what he was doing.

  Throwing himself into a crisis so he didn’t have to think about his son.

  The sad thing was, he had a feeling it would work.