He swallowed hard. This was it. “I know some of you are scared,” he said, loud enough to carry. “We’re not just campers now. We’re survivors. Fighters. Some of us have healing magic. Some of us have combat skills. Some of you—” he pointed out into the crowd “—might have powers you haven’t even tried yet. And right now, what we need more than anything is to stop waiting for help that isn’t coming, and start helping each other.”
Bob took a step forward, leaning slightly on his sledgehammer. “If you decide to come with us, go find Kent,” Bob said. “He’s the guy with the axe who rushed to help those at the restroom when we first arrived. Tell him Bob sent you. If you haven’t decided yet, let’s sit down and talk more about our options.”
A woman with tear-streaked cheeks clutched her daughter closer. A man shifted uncomfortably near a pile of makeshift stretchers.
He followed his words with action, lowering himself back onto the picnic table bench. Jill sat beside him, and together they watched as nearly two-thirds of the crowd dispersed. Hopefully, they were going to find Kent. Better him than George. George always came off a bit rough, hard to read, and good at pushing people’s buttons.
Someone in the remaining crowd called out, “What if more of those things are out there?”
Bob nodded. “There might be. But we’ll be together and together, we’ve already killed dozens. We’re not helpless. We just haven’t started acting like a team yet.”
The father from the family of six hadn’t left. Instead, he approached and sat next to Bob.
Silence again. Then a voice from the back: “What if we don’t make it?”
Bob didn’t flinch. “Then we go down fighting. But I’d rather fight behind a door than under a tree.”
People began to stir. Bob didn’t know if it was conviction, desperation, or momentum. But they moved. A man stepped forward. “Jürgen Hoffmann,” he said, offering his hand.
Bob shook it. “What can I do to convince you to join us?”
“I’m already convinced,” Jürgen replied. “I just wanted to talk with you about these words we’re seeing in our heads.”
Bob nodded, not surprised. He wished the man had waited until later, but he understood the urgency. “We’re still figuring it out,” he said. “But I’ll share what we’ve learned. Sadly, it isn’t much.”
He sat with Jürgen and a few others who had stayed behind, explaining the limited knowledge his group had gathered. How the notifications worked, at least what they they meant. The others shared their own experiences, from the moment they’d woken up to Bob’s group arriving.
After a few minutes of silence, Jürgen broke it. “My family and I will come with you. What can we do?”
Bob thought for a moment. “We need a way to carry the injured. I’m not leaving them behind. Can you help figure something out?”
Jürgen nodded, already thinking through the problem. “I have some ideas. Give me an hour. I’ll see what I can put together.”
Bob gave a grateful nod, then turned to the others gathered nearby. “What about the rest of you? Have you decided?”
Most agreed to go with them, but a group of four chose to try hiking down to the main canyon for help. Bob tried to change their minds, but they wouldn’t listen.
Eventually, everyone moved off, some to gather supplies, Jürgen to work on his idea, and Bob found himself sitting beside Jill and Tami, who had joined them during his talk with the smaller group.
He turned to Tami, and together they talked about the logistics of what she’d need, how they might transport the wounded, and what was even possible. Then their conversation drifted to the system itself. Notifications. Stats. Skills. Tami told them she’d learned and both and had reached Rank 3.
“That fast?” Bob asked, then remembered his own skill had hit Rank 3 also.
She nodded. “Healing takes a lot out of me, but the system seems to think I’m doing something right.”
After a pause, Bob offered to round up some helpers and stood to leave. He needed to find Kent and George. He was still thinking about how to lead everyone when he heard shouting from a nearby campsite.
Without hesitation, he clutched his sledgehammer and rushed toward the noise. A group that was looking for salvageable items was under attack. Five chipmunks were darting out of the trees, fast and aggressive.
One had already bitten a woman in the leg; she was being dragged away from the chaos by two other people. A woman in a sunflower sundress had armed herself with a broom, and a man beside her clutched a rusty tire iron. A couple others held broken branches like clubs, but none of them had a proper weapon.
Except Bob. He didn’t hesitate. He charged forward and brought the sledgehammer down in a wide, brutal arc just as one of the chipmunks lunged toward the injured woman again. The hammer struck clean. Bone crunched. Blood sprayed. The creature went flying, the side of its face crushed flat.
This time, Bob had made a difference.
RUNNING RANK +1
LEVEL 1 CHIPMUNK KILLED
EXPERIENCE POINTS GAINEDCREDITS EARNED: +37
The notifications startled Bob. But he recovered quickly, stepping over the crushed chipmunk and placing himself between the group and the three remaining ones. He gripped his sledgehammer tightly and shouted, “Hey! Let’s make a line to keep them from getting to the others!” He aimed it at the man with the tire iron.
To Bob’s surprise, the man actually listened. Maybe it was the bloody sledgehammer, or maybe it was the Leadership skill. Either way, Bob would take it. As he turned his attention back to the chipmunks, he realized too late that he should’ve stayed more alert. One of them had already lunged at him. He tried to deflect it with the shaft of his hammer but it darted under and latched onto his injured leg.
HEALTH DECREASED BY 10
Bob staggered backward. “These stupid animals,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Why is it always me?”
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The bite hurt, but what burned more was the of being attacked again. In the leg. He adjusted his grip, choking up on the handle to shorten the swing, and slammed the hammer down on the chipmunk. It yelped and let go, and the man with the tire iron followed up with a hard strike of his own.
The tire iron struck right behind the head breaking the spine. The chipmunk dropped and together, they finished it off.
DEXTERITY +1
LEVEL 1 CHIPMUNK KILLEDEXPERIENCE POINTS GAINED
CREDITS EARNED: +24
With two down, the other three chipmunks became cautious. They skittered back and forth a few feet away, waiting for someone to slip. Bob knew how fast they could move. If anyone lost focus, they’d attack.
They just had to hold the line a bit longer. Backup would arrive soon… hopefully.
Then disaster struck.
Someone helping the injured woman tripped on a pile of camping gear that had been scattered in the chaos. As he fell, he cried out. The man with the tire iron instinctively turned to look at the commotion for just a moment but that was all it took.
The chipmunk closest to the man seized the opening and launched itself at him, all four legs posed to dig its claws into him.
Bob reacted instantly using the handle of his sledgehammer to block the flying chipmunk just in time. But while Bob was deflecting the attacking chipmunk, the other two chipmunks made their move.
They rushed past him. Their target was the woman with the broom.
She saw them coming and, to her credit, she stood her ground and managed to sweep the first one away. But she wasn’t fast enough to stop the other. It leapt, claws extended, and slammed into her chest, knocking her flat on her back. She got her right arm up to shield her face, but the claws tore through her arm and chest. Blood poured from her wounds, soaking the tattered remains of her dress.
Bob wanted to help, but the chipmunk he’d blocked earlier turned on him. It was locked on him and he was afraid if he turned to help the woman it would attack him from behind. He could hear the woman screaming in pain. Bob knew he needed to hurry and deal with the chipmunk in front of him.
The man with the tire iron ran to intercept the chipmunk the woman had swept away, keeping it from joining the frenzy. The rest of the people around them just stood frozen, paralyzed by fear.
Bob knew what he had to do. He waited for the chipmunk to lunge again and when it did, he hurled the sledgehammer like a spear.
The hammer struck the creature in the chest with a sickening crunch, knocking it aside. Without pausing to see if it was dead, Bob turned and dove toward the woman. He wrapped his arms around the chipmunk mauling her and rolled away, tearing it off her body.
It clawed at him immediately, twisting in his arms like a wildcat. Its talons raked across his arms and upper body as it twisted in his arms. He grunted in pain but he held on. He couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t let it hurt her again.
Bob continued to hold on to the chipmunk as it fought to free itself but then something slammed into him. The weight hit him hard. Not another chipmunk, too heavy. Then the writhing stopped. Dead still.
The pressure of the fight slowly faded and he felt hands trying to remove the chipmunk from his grip. Bob’s brain finally had room to process what had just happened. First he focused on the messages he had pushed out of his mind during the battle.
LEVEL 1 CHIPMUNK KILLED
EXPERIENCE POINTS GAINED
CREDITS EARNED: +32
NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: BLUNT WEAPONS (RANK 0)
NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: THROWING (RANK 0)
HEALTH DECREASED BY 29
HEALTH DECREASED BY 31
DEBUFF APPLIED:
- BLEEDING
- INFECTION
HEALTH DECREASED BY 48
LEVEL 1 CHIPMUNK KILLED
EXPERIENCE POINTS GAINED
CREDITS EARNED: +15
HEALTH DECREASED BY 21
LEVEL 1 CHIPMUNK KILLED
EXPERIENCE POINTS GAINED
CREDITS EARNED: +27
NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: GRAPPLE (RANK 0)
The scrolling notifications blurred past Bob’s vision, a flood of glowing text he couldn’t focus on. His breath rasped in his throat, blood sticky on his arms, dirt ground into every scrape. When he looked up, Blake was crouched beside him, bloody knife in hand, chest heaving. His eyes locked on Bob’s, and for a moment, the world narrowed to that flicker of relief.
“Quite the fighting strategy you’ve got there,” Blake said, trying for humor but sounding winded. “I always thought you were supposed to things with a sledgehammer. Not throw it like a shot put. We’re definitely having a talk about training when we get back to the cabin.”
Bob groaned as Blake moved the final chipmunk off him. “Remind me to buy you a whiteboard and a whistle,” he muttered.
But the attempt at banter died quickly.
Bob’s voice dropped, raw with dread. “Is she alive?” he asked. “Can Tami save her?”
Blake didn’t answer. He just wiped his blade, looked at Bob and that was the answer. No words. Just quiet devastation.
Wincing, Bob turned his head. He didn’t need to ask again.
The woman lay in the dirt, her sunflower-print dress torn to ribbons, blood soaking the faded fabric until it looked almost black. Her arms were shredded, her chest a ruin of claw marks. Kent was already there, kneeling beside her, face set in a grim mask as he pulled a tarp gently over her body. One of the men who had been helping carry the other injured was now slumped beside her, silent sobs wracking his frame.
Bob didn’t know her name. Didn’t know the man’s name either. But he knew what they’d lost. And he knew it mattered.
He exhaled slowly, pain threading every inch of his body, and looked back at Blake.
“I was too slow,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “If I’d been faster—”
“No,” Blake said sharply. “Don’t. You saved the woman who was down first. You saved me. You killed three of them. If you hadn’t done what you did, there’d be more than one tarp out here.”
Bob stared up at the canopy above them, where sunlight filtered through the leaves like gold through stained glass. It felt wrong—too bright, too peaceful. Like the world didn’t understand what just happened.
He clenched his fists. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not again. We already fought them off.”
They sat in silence for a beat, the sounds of the forest creeping back in, wind rustling the leaves, distant voices calling out, someone crying softly nearby.
Blake glanced toward the others starting to arrive, Kent, George, Tami, and even Jill jogging across the clearing, eyes wide.
“They need you, Bob,” Blake said. “We all do. And I’m not talking about just fighting.”
Bob didn’t answer, not at first. Then he tried to pull himself upright with a grunt, but Blake’s hand stopped him and pushed him back down. “Wait until Tami has checked on you.”
He looked past Blake, eyes unfocused, and saw the chipmunk bodies strewn across the dirt like grotesque trophies. Just beyond them, the tarp fluttered faintly in the breeze, hiding the woman in the sunflower dress. Hiding the part of the world that had just torn a little more.
When he looked back at Blake, he saw something that made his stomach twist: fear. Not just worry, real fear. Blake’s expression had hardened into something calm and steady, but his eyes betrayed him. Bob had seen enough death today to recognize what it looked like when someone thought they might be watching another person die.
The last of the adrenaline abandoned Bob like a tide pulling out. Pain crashed in behind it. A scream tried to claw its way up his throat, but all that came out was a gasp. A shallow, broken breath that barely reached his lips.
His body throbbed with every heartbeat, a molten ache that refused to fade. Fire raced through his limbs, his arms and chest raw from claw gouges, his leg a mangled mess of bite and bruising. His hands curled into fists, but even that small act made his knuckles throb.
But he was still here. Still breathing. Still alive.
Tears streamed down his cheeks, not from grief this time, but from the unbearable physical agony now catching up to him. Each breath made his ribs feel like they might splinter apart. His vision pulsed at the edges, tunneling in and out like a dying flashlight.
He heard someone shouting his name. Blake? Jill? It seemed to come from a hundred miles away.
Then warmth. Soft and sudden, like sunlight spilling across frozen skin. It poured into him, numbing the fire, replacing the pain with something gentle and golden. The world sharpened, just for a moment. His heartbeat slowed. He blinked, vision swimming.
Tami was there, kneeling over him, her hands glowing faintly. She looked like she was holding herself together by sheer will. Pale. Drained. Her mouth trembled with the effort of maintaining her spell, and yet she still gave him a small, tired smile.
Then her eyes rolled back. She collapsed toward him like a marionette with cut strings.
George appeared in a blur of motion, catching her before she landed on Bob. His strong arms eased her down beside him with surprising gentleness. Bob tried to thank him, tried to say something, anything, but the world was sliding sideways.
The pain was gone now, but so was everything else, light, sound, weight. His thoughts untethered, drifting apart like ash in the wind. He felt Tami’s shoulder pressed lightly against his, and that small connection was the last thing he knew.
Then the darkness took him.