《Excursion》 The House at the Edge of the World I live in a modest two-story house, complete with a basement, a pool deck, and a small yard that drops off the edge of the world into an endless void. Well, that''s what I assume it is, anyway; I''ve never been to the edge of a world before and wouldn''t really know what to look for to identify it even if I had. What indicates that kind of thing? Does it matter? It''s dark and seemingly infinite and will probably kill me if I ever fall in, so I suppose it doesn''t matter what I end up calling it. It''s hard to define a lot of things without scientists around to definitively say what things are and how they work, but I manage. For example, last week I decided to refer to those shadows I sometimes see moving out of the corner of my eye as "stalkers" because really, that''s all they are. They''ve never hurt me in the time since I started noticing them, but I''ve caught a few watching me in the shower before, so I think they''re all just creeps with no real sinister intentions. Or maybe they''re just not killing me because they''re all severe procrastinators in addition to being perverts. I suppose I can relate to that, but I do still kind of hope they keep not killing me for a while. Shadow-voyeurism aside, I live pretty comfortably. I never run out of food, thanks to the giant "strawberry" plants that have overgrown the porch. I call them "strawberries" with quotes because while they certainlylooklike the berries I know and love, I really have no clue what they actually are since nobody can survive as long as I have off of nothing but berries, even if they are the size of my head. I also have clothes of all sizes since raiding the closets upstairs; having your entire family disappear from your life without a trace has its perks, I guess. I''m set up with an endless supply of fresh water thanks to the zero-gravity stream that floats past one of the second-story windows. And lastly, but most importantly, I have an honest-to-god internet connection, so I can still connect to a few of my favorite video games, even if nobody else is online with me anymore and it can get kind of eerie sometimes. I don''t know how the game servers are still running, but I try not to think about it too much or else I get really anxious. I stretch underneath my sheets and rub my eyes for what seems like the hundredth time. It''s been a couple hours and I still haven''t gotten up. It''s pretty hard to motivate myself to be active when there''s nothing to do I haven''t done a thousand times already. For example, I''ve already completed theHalocampaign seven times, and I''m well on my way to my eighteenth playthrough ofWarcraft 3. My Wii broke within the first couple of months of living like this (curse you, Nintendo), but I''m pretty sure my Gamecube will survive for decades after I''m gone (bless you, Nintendo), which means that even though I''ll tragically never playMetroid Prime 3again, I''ll always have the first two to enjoy, and I''ve always liked them better anyway so I still win. The shirt I''m wearing (formerly my older sister''s) is riding up my torso but I don''t feel like fixing it, so my stomach remains cold and exposed. None of the pants that fit me are clean, so I''m just wearing boxers; the stalkers can stare at me as long as they like for all I care. My hair''s a mess because, much like laundry, I''ve been putting off showering for a day or five. I''m acutely aware of how gross I look (a leftover echo of my social anxiety) but without anyone around to judge me over the years, I''ve been having a hard time finding the energy to do anything about it. I lazily stare at a fly buzzing around one of the lights; why, of all creatures, didflieshave to be the sole surviving feature of my old reality? Why not puppies or frogs or Cher? There are these glowing neon frogs around the pool now, but they''re closer to lightbulbs than amphibians, so they don''t really count. I also have a Cher CD still lying around here somewhere, so I guess she''s here with me in spirit. Flies, however, remain the same boring nuisance they''ve always been, and I just can''t bring myself to like them, even if their existence is the only thing keeping me from forgetting what the world was like when things were okay.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. As my apathy nears the 4-hour mark (my record is eleven), the light of a lamp that''s been in my eyes is eclipsed by a snaower (snail flower). Snaowers are these big snails about the size of a baseball that have plants growing out of their shells, kind of like a Bulbasaur fromPok¨¦mon. The plants can be different but I''ve only ever seen stuff from the yard, so I don''t know exactly how diverse it can get. My favorite snaower has a tiny cluster of white flowers blooming out of her mossy shell; I''ve been calling her Linda. I look up to discover that she''s the one who has eclipsed the lamp. She likes to get my attention in creative ways like that. Slowly, I unravel myself from my blankets and make my way over to her. I pick Linda up and set her down onto the floor so she doesn''t fall and hurt herself. She''s very talented and has never been clumsy before, but as her friend I think I''m still allowed to worry for her safety. I yawn loudly and stretch again, scratching myself as I contemplate what to do today. I could shower. Or play some more video games I''ve already memorized. Or maybe I could even eat a mutant berry to sustain my malnourished body. The possibilities are truly endless. Carefully stepping so that my bare feet don''t land on any of the junk I left lying around the basement floor, I make my way to the stairs. As I reach the top, I decide to eat breakfast (or lunch, or whatever meal it is right now) before figuring out the rest of my schedule. I stop by the porch, which is really more of a garden now for all intents and purposes, to pick up one of the smaller, apple-sized berries to eat as I wrack my brain for more activities. I could organize the room I keep all the clothes, but the messier it gets, the less I want to sift through piles of fabric to find something that fits me, and now I consider it to be one of my biggest stressors, so I''m probably not going to actually do that. Again, the thought crosses my mind that I could get cleaned up, but that''s always a huge hassle, since my only source of clean water isn''t connected to the house''s pipe system, or the ground, or anything really, and I don''t feel up to leaning out a window with a bucket to try and catch some just to get back to square one in a day or two. Nothing really sounds appealing so far, but I might have to settle since my options are pretty limited, not being able to leave the house and all; I haven''t been able to escape since it broke off from my old neighborhood and sunk into the void I find myself in now. Icouldprobably climb back up the sidewalk hanging against the cliff face to get to the surface if the front door wasn''t blocked by a wall of stone and dirt; but why would I want to leave, anyway? Everything I need is already down here, and who knows what''s waiting for me out there. Sometimes I think I see giant shapes, like tentacles or serpents or something, writhing and twisting around in the darkness outside. I''m probably lucky they haven''t noticed me in all the time I''ve lived down here; no way in hell am I willing to test fate after surviving for this long and leave the safety of my house just to be eaten by some unknowable cosmic horror-beast. I suddenly realize I''m staring into the void out of a window and quickly turn my attention back to the interior of the house. I shudder involuntarily and decide I''m going to play video games today. Video games are safe. I make my way into the living room to find Linda inching across the top of the TV. I don''t know how she does it, that speed demon; it''s only been a couple of minutes since I came up from the basement and she''s already waiting for me. I decide I want to play someDark Souls, so I root through a pile of games until I find the third one. I blow Linda a kiss as I turn on the screen and get comfortable on the couch as the game connects to the server. Just another day in paradise. Wait. Something''s different. The game is taking longer to load than it usually does. A feeling of dread washes over me as the loading screen freezes and displays an error message:Unable to ?connect to Dark Souls 3 game servers. I try to reconnect and the same message appears. Oh no. I scramble off the couch and run downstairs to my desktop. Frantically, I try to connect to the internet, but that doesn''t work either. My heart stops as I notice a red X over the bars in the lower right hand corner of the screen. Oh god, no. I check the router to my left. The lights flicker for a moment, then go dark. No, no, no! I collapse into the nearby beanbag chair and cover my face with shaking hands. My internet connection is gone. And suddenly, for the first time since the world ended, I fully feel the weight of how truly alone I am. A Quick Excursion, Nothing More After a while, I''m able to pull myself together. The router isn''t the problem, I can at least tell that much. But that just makes what I have to do all the worse. I''m getting worked up again, so I close my eyes and try to slow my breathing. If the router isn''t what''s acting up here, that means the internet service provider is to blame. If the internet service provider is having a problem, that means that either the servers are down, or a signal tower is out. Without customer support or maintenance staff, the responsibility of fixing the problem lies with me. Either way, it means that I have to leave the house, and I''m terrified. I roll out of the beanbag chair and groan into the carpet. Pushing myself off the floor, I make my way back to the living room, where Linda is waiting for me at the top of the stairs. I stop to pet her shell and hopefully calm my hammering heart. I know I have to be the one to fix this, but I''m honestly not sure if I''m up to it; just this morning I didn''t have the energy to shower for god''s sake. I don''t even know how to fix this problem, or what''s wrong with the system in the first place, or where the building is, and I can''t find it without google and I realize I''m starting to panic again so I stand up and take a deep breath. I really need to calm down if this is going to work. If I''m gonna leave, I have to get clean first. I take off my clothes on the way to the second story and toss them in a pile of other dirty clothes on the hallway floor. I can take care of that mess when I come back. Hopefully this won''t take too long. I open the bathroom door and look at myself in the mirror. I look awful. My eyes are mostly hidden by my overgrown hair, but you can still tell that they have dark circles under them from a unique combination of sleep problems that plague me every night. My black hair is greasy because I haven''t washed it in forever, but you can''t really tell in this lighting. I run my fingers through it to confirm that, yes, my hair is, in fact, disgusting. I grimace at the sensation, exaggerating the expression for my own benefit; it''s something I''ve picked up from talking to my own reflection, which, I''ve found, is almost the same thing as human interaction, depending on how much I''m dissociating that day. Today I''m fairly lucid, but it still serves to give my stiff facial muscles a workout. I clear my throat. "You look gross," I croak out at myself. The bluntness of the statement catches me off guard, somehow, and a sudden laugh bubbles up and out from somewhere in my chest, drawing my attention to my mouth. My teeth look about as good as they can look without toothpaste, but I do try to scrape off the plaque occasionally so they don''t get to looking like George Washington''s wooden chompers. My lips are chapped, but not bleeding, although they still do that on especially dry days. I can''t grow any noticeable amount of facial hair, which I used to be self conscious about, but now it''s just one aspect of hygiene I don''t have to worry about maintaining.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. I bring myself out my self-criticizing gaze and open the cupboards beneath the sink to retrieve the buckets I use to fill the bathtub. I exit into the hallway and walk towards the window at the end of the corridor, where the floating stream of water is lazily drifting past through the still air. I open the window and lean out to catch some in a bucket and repeat this until every bucket is full. I lug the water back to the bathroom and fill the tub. After I''m clean, or as clean as one can get without soap, I dry off and walk to the room my sister used to own, where I keep all the clean clothes. Rooting through the pile in the center of the room, I manage to find one of my brother''s t-shirts and an old pair of shorts, which might be my sister''s. After a while I''m able to find some boxers and socks that at least mostly fit; I think the socks are my dad''s, but there''s no way I''m his waist size yet, so the underwear is probably my brother''s or mine. I pull on my shoes for the first time in years (they still fit, thank god) and head back to the bathroom to empty the tub. After several bucket-runs to the edge of the void, the water is gone. With that business finished, I dig through yet another pile of junk and find my old school backpack. I empty it out, and go back upstairs to fill it with some extra clothes. I remind myself not to go overboard; this is just a short excursion, nothing more. I''m just going to get to the signal tower or whatever, then fix the problem somehow, and get back to the house and live the rest of my life in isolated safety. Easy. I pack enough for about two weeks just to be on the safe side. Downstairs, I stuff some water bottles and food into my old lunchbox. That should keep them cool for longer, even without ice. I think that''s how it works anyway. As I do this, an idea strikes me. I ran upstairs to my parents'' room and look through the bookshelves for one of my dad''s training manuals. He used to do electric work; maybe there''s something in there about the local ISP building. I find a book that seems to fit the bill, and even though I''m aware that it''s a long shot, and I should probably read through it first, it''s better than going into this thing blind, so I take it anyway. I cram the manual into an outside pocket of my backpack and head back downstairs. I tie a jacket around my waist in case it suddenly gets cold and place a baseball cap on my head in case it gets sunny. Okay. I''m as ready as I''ll ever be. I start towards the front door before remembering that the only thing on the other side is a vertical cliff face; I definitely won''t be leaving that way. I don''t even know if I''ll be able to get the thing to open enough to squeeze out, let alone with a full backpack. A quick test confirms this to be the case and the door doesn''t budge.Yep, I''m blocked in on this side. After a moment of distracted thought, the white of Linda''s flowers catches my eye from the porch-garden. I follow her out and see her staring out ofthe glass doors that lead to the pool deck outside. Hmm. I haven''t been near the pool deck since it grew its own swamp-like ecosystem, but I remember there''s asidegate thatcould be my way out of here. I pick up Linda, thanking her, and then I place her safely in my bag witha few leaves to eat if she gets hungry. I can''t believe I''m actually going through with this, I think as I open the doors and head outside. It All Goes to Shit Within Seconds I''m immediately overwhelmed by how intensely the pool area is teeming with life; flies lazily drift and zip through the heavy air, and tall grasses and reeds are bursting out from in between the wooden planks of the deck, along with some of the giant "strawberry" plants, just like the ones in the porch-garden behind me. Glowing neon frogs ofvarying colors and girth ribbit and hop from oversized lilypad to oversized lilypad, a faint trail of light following behind them as they casually arc through the air. I turn around and close the doors securely before I do anything else. I turn back around, and before I can even take a step forward, I inhale sharply in surprise as a thin film of algae in the pool is disturbed by something moving in the water in my right-hand peripheral vision.After a moment of stillness, I grab the straps of my backpack and carefully edge my way through thebrush towards the far left of the deck, where the gate should be. Just as I take my eyes off the pool to see how far I have left to go, a sudden splash makes me jump. Faintly, I notice the grass rustling on the opposite side of the pool area as something moves through it, and a trail of water leadingdirectly from the pool tothat exact spot. As my brain registers this development, the grass stops moving and a cloud of flies bursts out from where the source of the movement must be. Iget the distinct impression that I should not investigate. As I''m sneaking away, I can faintly see the source of the noise; a dimly glowing mass has beached itself onto the concrete edge of the water. Curiosity forces me to part the reeds for a moment just to see what''s been living in my pool for all this time without my knowledge. I feel violently nauseous the moment I see it. Hanging halfway out of the water onto the deck is a grotesque, pulsating creature with a wide, toothless mouth and dull, sightless eyes. It almost looks like it used to be one of the neon frogs, but this one is overgrown and deformed. The quivering pustules that cover it are glowing bright orange, but the rest of its moist skin, while brown at first glance, is actually a dark, muddled mixture of countless other colors running together, like a poorly-made tie-dye shirt. I can occasionally see brightly shining colors flowing through its throbbing veins, as if there''s just barely enough neon coloration to keep it alive. The creature convulses and makes a wet noise as a group of flies emerge from its soft, gaping jaw. I now notice little black specks buzzing around within the orange tumors. I suddenly remember to breathe again. What is that?! Trying not to make any noise, I continue through the tall grass. My anxiety makes me hyper-aware of each of its individual blades itching and pricking against my skin. I''m almost to the gate now, I can see it. That''s when I hear another splash, closer, and feel water droplets against the back of my neck. Oh, f- Startled, I whirl around and see another amphibious hive-monster staring up at me with its dim, lifeless eyes. I can feel its ragged, swampy breath on my face, and see hundreds of tiny black insects flying and crawling around inside its cavernous maw. My eyes widen as the pink walls of the throat contract and undulate, and before I can react, a cloud of bugs is fired directly into my face. I swing at the air in frenzied self defense and stumble back, falling and then momentarily struggling to correct myselflike a turtle flipped on its shell.The old wood beneath my body creaks as I try to pull myself upright. Something is crawling on my hand and I violently wave my arm in response. Several flies take off and that''s when I realize that they''re all over me, on my skin, in my hair, beneath the deck, in the air around me. I begin to feel something like pinpricks on my exposed skin. Holy shit, they''re biting me. I cry out in disgust and panic, rolling over and scrambling towards the gate as fast as I can. All I can hear is the deafening drone of the flies swarming around meand the forlorn, sickly croaking of the creatures that have become the unfortunate hosts to these parasitic nightmare flies. I reach the gate. There''s a padlock on the latch, and all the buzzing is making it hard for me to think. I slap my arms in an attempt to clear them of pests, but it''s no good. They''re under my clothes, trying to crawl into my ears and nose and I scream in frustration. There''s a low rumble,andyet another fly-infested frog lurches out of the grassesto my immediate right with a deafening wail. Timeto move. Without thinking, I jump at the wooden gate and manage to claw my way over the top like a desperate animal, landing in the grass on the other side with a solid thud. One of thezombie-frogs slams against the gate, but the lock holds. A lot of the fliesdon''t follow me, favoring to stay behind andprotect their hosts, but I''m not safe yet. Another wail echoes in thedark air, followed by another slam against the gate, which, worryingly, doesn''t look like it will last much longer. Slam. Keep moving, Jake,I remind myself mentally with an annoyed huff. I quickly check on Linda in my backpack, and, satisfied, I quickly take in my surroundings. I''m on the edge of the property now; the grass I''mstandingin ends by dropping off into the darkness below mere feet away. There, to my left, along the side of the house, a thin strip of the yard is the only thing remaining to keepan air conditioning unit attached to the wall; there''s dirt and roots from the strawberry plants to support it underneath, but it''s not wide enough to walk safely across. Slam. On the other side, againstacliff too tall for me to see the top of, I can see pieces of what used to be the sidewalk wrapped up in vines and plants, forming a kind of hanging path along it to the surface. The concrete slabs are in varying conditions, from completely vertical to broken in half, but most of them look like I could climb on them. None of it looks remotely safe, but it''s the onlyway upI can see anywhere so that''s my goal. Slam. Knowing what my next step is, I approach the edge and hold my backpack to my side so I can keep my back to the wall and not fall off. It''s really more narrow than I thought. Slam. I reach the air conditioning unit. So far so good. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shadow dart past me.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Oh, hell no. I hearsomething above me and look up, only to be greeted by one of my bathroom buckets being pushed off the edge of the roof towards my head. Shit, shit, shit, shi- I throw my backpack the rest of the way to the front yard, where it lands safely, and the bucket lands directly on my head. I''m in pain and kind of dazed, but I manage to grab onto the AC unit to steady myself. I touch my head and see blood on my fingers. Those little fuckers. Crash. Behind me, the fly-beasts have broken through the gate and are mindlessly making their way towards me. The parasitic nightmare flies instantly grow in number around me. Just as I''m thinking about how stacked against me this precarious situation is, another stalker darts past me, way closer to my face this time. I recoil, almost losing my footing but somehow managing to stay balanced. So, I guess theywere actually plotting to kill me after all. I put my leg over the top of the AC unit and climb on top of it. Below me, I notice a few more stalkers flitting around. It''s the most I''ve ever seen in one place. How''d I not notice this many before? I refocus myself. It looks like my best bet is to just jump to solid ground from here. Another bucket falls next to me and clanks against the air conditioning, spinning into the probably-infinite abyss below. Right. There''s still that one up there. After the bucket is out of sight, more of my things start falling from the sky, like a meteor shower of all the junk I never felt like cleaning up. Clothes and movies and games and dishes start flying past me and into the void as the stalkers step up their offensive game. I can''t last much longer in this. As if things couldn''t get worse, atremulousbut powerful coughfires off behind me before I can do anything and I know a fly-swarm was just launched at me. I duck and swat some away, moving to make the jumpwhen somethingstarts to jerk and shift below me. The unit I''m standing on is beginning to slide off the ledge, a few inches at a time. It occurs to me that the stalkers may not have been aiming for me, but the unstable ground this entiretime and a chill runs down my spine. It''s now or never. I jump, but not even that goes well. Midair, as if in slow motion, my vision is obscured by an old pair of boxer-briefs I haven''t worn in years that fly into my path and wrap around my head,soI can''t see where I''m landing. Mybody hits the edge of the ground and the wind gets knocked out of me like I''ve been punched in the stomach, but my hands just barely manage to catchonto the grass and I sink my nails into the soil, fighting the need to vomit.I hear the metallic cacophony of the AC unit falling off behind me and hitting several rocks on the way down. Or maybe it''s just moreshit being thrown at me. Preferably, it''s the stalkers getting slammed off the edge of the world by a 200 pound cube of metal, like they fucking deserve. Even though my arms are killing me, I''m able to pull myself up onto solid ground (or as close as one can get down here) and lay on my back, removing the underwear from my face and tossing it to the side off the edge. They didn''t fit me anymore anyway. The demon-flies have finally dissipated for the most part, thank god, but their bites left some pretty nasty reddish bumps all overmy body and mybelongingsare stillscattered all over the yard by those traitors. I seriously cannot fucking believe those good-for-nothing creepy motherfuckerschose now of all times to make an attempt on my life. Where were they during all my depressive episodeswhenI didn''t eat, when I needed them to kill me? Selfish bastards. I look back to where I came and can see that the air conditioning unit is missingjust asI suspected, but I''m not convinced it actuallykilled all of the stalkers, so I pick up my backpack andcheck in on Linda again, who istaking cover in her shell at the moment. She''s so strong. After stroking her shell adoringly and putting a few extra leaves in her pouch I zip her back up and turn to look at the mossy sidewalk tenuously hanging against the cliff face. The first few concrete squares are fairly easy for me to climb; they''re not too vertical and fairly sturdy. Then, I''m faced with a gap; I guess this one fell off, which isn''t a good indicator of the overall structural integrity of this path, but I take a deep breath and jump to the next square anyway. I continue climbing the path like that, occasionally having to jump a gap or edge my way across a completely vertical slab, until I come to a gap several squares long. Looking around, I can see a few vines and roots hanging down from the cliff that I might be able toswing across with, but I''m not sure if that''s something I can actually pull off, or something my gaming instincts are telling me I can do. I alsonotice a stream ofbubbles rising out of the void below, which is kind of alarming, because I''ve never seenit do that before, but at this point I''m decently far from the house, so I guess maybe it changes based on where you are or something. Deciding it doesn''t matter, I shake my head andgrasp a vine in my hand, tugging on it to see if it''s stable. Some dirt falls into the abyss, which isn''t optimal, but the secondpullseems a lot more solid, so I swallow nervously and position myself to get a running start to swing across the gap. Why did I think of this Indiana Jones-ass idea and why am I going through with it, I think absently as I leap over the endless pit below. I let go just in time and roughly land on the chunk of sidewalk on the other side. Too roughly. This section of concrete actually appears to be several separate pieces held together by a network of roots, and I immediately break through thefragile structure. My first thought is: I''m falling. My second is: Holy fucking shit. I''m panicking, I think, I need to calm down. Fucking obviously I''m panicking, comes my own sharp reply, I''m falling off the edge of the goddamn world, you incredible asshole. Oh shit, I think, as if remembering my predicament, what do I do, what do I do. Fuck if I know! I''m panicking, I mentally roll my eyes,I literally just said that, we''ve been over this, dude. There are bubbles whizzing past me, but none seem to ever touch me, and they''re getting bigger and bigger as I fall further and further into the (possibly) infinite blackness below me. Maybeall of thesebubbles will catch me and float meback up, I think to myself like a dumbass, and then,why would that ever happen, idiot?! This is real life, and you¡¯re about to die. Get over it and stop being stupid. The darkness below is moving around, almost imperceptibly. I can''t really focus on the shapes anymore. Am I falling faster?I''m starting to see colors now as the shapes warp and disappear and reappear before my eyes. They''re all dark at first, just subtle variations of black, the darkest of every color, but they''re slowly getting brighter and brighter as I approach the bottom. Is there a bottom? There doesn''t really seem to be any solid matter down here. I can''t seewhere I fell from anymore. A technicolor static is surrounding me now. I think I''m starting to hear static too. Or is that just because I thought of the word "static?" No, no I definitely hear something. A low, droning sound. Or is it high-pitched? It''s giving me a headache. Fuck, what is that noise?! I''m hyperventilating I think, but I''m not sure if there''s even air down here.My eyes are rapidly going in and out of focus now, and the colors around me are blurring together into a psychedelic slurry of flashing images I can barely process. I am definitelygetting faster. Shouldn''t I have stopped accelerating by now?My sister once told me something about humanswho fall into a bottomless pit dying of starvation and eventually stretching out like a noodle because of some weird physics rule. I never knew if that wasbullshit or not. I wonder if that¡¯s what¡¯s going happen to me.The bubbles are shooting past me at warp speed now. Everything is so bright and so much. Too much. Oh god. Oh god. My eyes are burning and start to close without my permission. NO, I mentally scream at myself, STAY AWAKE, DAMMIT! STAY!!! AWAKE!!! The last thing I seeas my vision cuts away is millions and millions ofbubbles. Inseparable ¡°Hey, Jake?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Do you ever miss school? Over breaks I mean.¡± ¡°Are you joking?¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m serious!¡± ¡°Why would anybody ever miss school? It¡¯s boring and mandatory and stressful.¡± ¡°Okay that¡¯s fair, but I just¡­ I don¡¯t know. It gives me a chance to hang out with you and the others. Dad never lets me see you guys so I can only hang out when he¡¯s at work, but it¡¯s not like he can refuse to send me to school, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, I feel you.¡± ¡°But other than you guys, I guess I kind of just appreciate the structure of it all? I mean, it¡¯s not that I like being told what to do all the time, you know that, but it¡¯s just... easier than being left to my own devices, you know? I don¡¯t have time to get bogged down by everything, and I can just sort of¡­ coast.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever felt like that but I think I know what you mean, yeah.¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°...¡± ¡°Hey, are you alright? You seem really down today.¡± ¡°Nah, just a lot on my mind is all. You shouldn¡¯t worry so much.¡± ¡°Oh. Okay, cool, I mean¡­ I trust you.¡± ¡°That means a lot.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°For what?¡± ¡°It was my fault.¡± ¡°Jake, we both know it was Kenny who-¡± ¡°No, stop, stop, please just let me take responsibility for what I-¡± ¡°Would you cut it out! She was my sister, and I¡¯m telling you it wasn¡¯t your fault, so just fucking drop it already.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m sorry, it¡¯s just... frustrating.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Just promise me you won¡¯t beat yourself up over this anymore. It isn¡¯t helping.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°Jake. I need you to promise.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± ¡°Please.¡± ¡°Okay. I promise.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°Hey, Jake?¡± ¡°Hm?¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad you''re still here.¡± ¡°Me too, Sarah.¡± Questionable Protection Holy shit, I¡¯m alive. My eyes snap open and then squint shut again in the blinding sunlight. I start to lift my arm to shield my eyes but soon wince and lower it again. My body is still too jacked up to exert myself even that much. I groggily moan in frustration and pain. Where even am I? My eyes are starting to adjust and I do my best to look around. I¡¯m¡­ in a house? It¡¯s definitely not my house, but it¡¯s similar. The layout is the same; maybe I¡¯m in the same neighborhood? This thought does little to help me pinpoint my exact location; who knows what¡¯s changed up here with things as weird as they were in my yard. I should check out the exterior when I can get up. I¡¯m laying on my back on the living room floor and there¡¯s a hole in the ceiling above me, and one in the roof above that. Wait, did I fall in through that¡­? The sound of a door opening snaps me out of my thoughts immediately. I¡¯m not alone here. I crane my head to look behind me towards the noise and meet eyes with the intruder, the first person I¡¯ve seen other than myself in years. We both freeze. I make a sudden move to try and run, but my body is exhausted and I¡¯m still covered in red welts all over. I don¡¯t get far, collapsing within a few feet. I hear the stranger say something and feel hands at my sides, trying to hold me steady. I don¡¯t remember how I get onto the couch, but soon the intruder is standing over me and saying things and I¡¯m too distracted to hear him because everything hurts so much and I feel like throwing up. He lifts up one of my arms and looks at one of the red marks, then drops it suddenly in disgust as a blinding pain rips through me. My vision is blurring, but I can see him swatting at the air in front of him and I¡¯m so confused and now he¡¯s holding a knife over me and I try to escape but he holds me down and I can feel the blade going into my skin over and over and I¡¯m shamelessly sobbing now. He isn¡¯t stabbing me, just making shallow cuts everywhere and it stings and I can hear buzzing and I¡¯m panicking but I can¡¯t move, like I¡¯m completely paralyzed. I can¡¯t tell how much time has passed when he finally picks me up and carries me away and I end up laying on a dusty bed somewhere. He starts wrapping me up in strips of cloth and I feel like I¡¯m being embalmed, like I¡¯m a self-aware corpse that can¡¯t cry out for help or move or do anything but watch its fate. Once my brother and I mummified my sister¡¯s Barbie doll in toilet paper and vinegar, then buried her in a shoebox in the backyard with some of mom¡¯s jewelry. That¡¯s me right now, now I know how my sister¡¯s doll felt that day. I don¡¯t even notice when I fall asleep. --- It¡¯s dark outside when I regain consciousness. My muscles are still aching but my skin isn¡¯t on fire anymore. I¡¯m covered in bandages all over, but I have no idea how they got there. Just as I sit up, a throat clearing sound from the corner of the room grabs my attention. A tall guy with a messy fauxhawk and dark eyes is leaning against a wall, watching me. ¡°Wh-¡± I start to ask before erupting into a violent coughing fit. ¡°You had a bunch of fly larvae gestating under your skin,¡± he explains after it dies down, casually twirling a knife, ¡°they were eating you from the inside and I had to dig them out before they could do any serious damage. I¡¯m glad I found you before it was too late.¡± ¡°That is so fucking gross,¡± I croak, too tired to be as horrified or grateful as I should be. ¡°You should rest up again,¡± he said, seeming to pick up on my fatigue, ¡°We can talk more in the morning.¡± Wordlessly, I nod and close my eyes. --- It¡¯s quiet when I finally wake. The sun is filtering through the musty curtains of the window, where the guy who saved me is standing, looking outside. His pierced ears glint in the soft morning light. He turns to look at me when I shift around. ¡°How are you feeling?¡± ¡°Like I just had a hundred maggots cut out of me by a stranger.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Want some breakfast?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± He bends down to a backpack on the floor and pulls out a sleeve of crackers. He tosses them to me, and I catch them, and he sits himself on the edge of the bed, giving me a funny look as I ravenously dig in. They¡¯re just crackers but god it¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve eaten any food that wasn¡¯t a mutated berry. The entire sleeve is empty within minutes. If he¡¯s confused, he doesn¡¯t say anything about it. ¡°So, what¡¯s your name?¡± he finally asks after taking the wrapper and tossing it out the window. I clear my throat. ¡°Jake,¡± I say a little too quietly, but he nods like he heard it so I don¡¯t repeat myself. ¡°Call me Ace.¡± He jabs a thumb at himself and winks. I didn''t know guys who acted like this even existed in real life. The grin he flashes me is quick, but genuine. I nod in response. After a few minutes of awkward silence, he continues. ¡°How¡¯d you end up like that anyway?¡± ¡°I ran into some trouble,¡± I say simply. He lets out a laugh, brief and soft, almost like a breath. ¡°Okay, fair enough, I guess. Not many people in this area. How¡¯d you end up here?¡± ¡°I live nearby. I think.¡± ¡°You think?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°I see.¡± There¡¯s a pause. ¡°Are you heading anywhere?¡± ¡°Do you know where the nearest internet service provider building is?¡± He gives me another funny look, so I continue. ¡°My internet went out,¡± I say, ¡°and I want to play Dark Souls.¡± ¡°Right,¡± he says with a confused smile. The uncertain silence returns for a while before he shrugs. I shrug back for lack of a better response. ¡°You need some company?¡± he asks, ¡°Things can get pretty dangerous out here, and it¡¯d be a shame if you died so soon after I saved you.¡± ¡°Where are we, anyway?¡± I ask instead of replying, distracted by my own curiosity. ¡°Suburban Heights, along the south edge,¡± he replies. It must be clear by my expression that I¡¯m lost because he continues: ¡°It used to be a residential area before the Shift, then got broken up into three tall plateaus that overlook the valley. Lots of birds like to roost around these parts.¡± ¡°The Shift.¡± ¡°Yeah. You know, whatever it was that made everything¡­ like this.¡± he explains, gesturing vaguely, ¡°What, do they not call it that where you¡¯re from? I thought that was pretty much universal.¡± I shrug instead of explaining myself. ¡°So?¡± he looks at me expectantly. ¡°What.¡± ¡°My question from before! You fine on your own, or do you wanna tag along? I can take you to the nearest town if you¡¯re willing to come with me while I finish up this hunting job I¡¯m on. Besides, safety in numbers and all that.¡± I don¡¯t reply immediately. Travelling together seems smart, and he¡¯s already saved my life, but I still hesitate. First of all, he looks like a douchey Mad Max character with his hair and piercings, not to mention his skull necklace, or the tribal tattoo on his upper arm, or what appears to be eyeliner, so I¡¯m definitely getting more than a few fuckboy vibes from his appearance alone, even if he seems nice. I learned a long time ago not to ignore fuckboy vibes. There¡¯s also something beyond that I can¡¯t quite identify about his behavior that makes me a little uneasy, like he¡¯s sizing me up or analyzing me, seeing if I¡¯m useful to him, if I was really worth saving. No, I definitely don¡¯t trust him yet, not by a long shot. Then again, if I just barely survived my own backyard, I can¡¯t really have faith in my ability to survive whatever is waiting for me outside this room. I¡¯d have to take a quick detour to follow him on this job of his, but I can probably afford to lose that time if it means I¡¯m safe, right? That said, I still don¡¯t even know where the ISP building is, so maybe I actually can¡¯t spare the time, given my limited supplies and lack of survival knowledge. Really, it all depends on the distance of the building and if I can - ¡°Hey,¡± he says, bringing me out of my thoughts, ¡°It¡¯s cool, I wouldn¡¯t trust me either. How about we stick together while your¡­ everything heals, and then you can ditch me if you want when we get to town. I¡¯m sure someone there knows where that internet building is, so it¡¯s probably your best bet.¡± Oh shit, did I really say all that out loud? I can¡¯t keep talking to myself like that if I¡¯m going to be interacting with people, especially if I don''t trust them. I have to get back on his good side. I scratch the back of my neck nervously and nod. ¡°Yeah, that sounds good. Sorry.¡± He smiles and claps his hands together, standing. ¡°Great! Can you walk? We should move before nightfall.¡± ¡°Wait! Um, Ace, before we go,¡± I say, propping my torso up on my elbows, ¡°Why do you want me to travel with you so much? I don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re getting out of all this.¡± I figure if I already let it slip that I don¡¯t trust him, I might as well ask what¡¯s on my mind. His smile wavers and he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. ¡°I¡­ well¡­ is it even important?¡± he doesn¡¯t make eye contact with me, ¡°Just be glad I¡¯m willing to protect you while you recover, okay? Most people you meet out here would just leave you for dead. Besides, it would just be a waste of resources for me to kill you at this point, if that helps you feel more at ease.¡± It doesn¡¯t, but I decide the situation is safe enough that I can deal with it later. He¡¯s probably playing a long game if he¡¯s planning to betray me; I still have some time to figure him out. He gives me a concerned look as I shakily sit upright and place my feet on the floor. I give him a thumbs up in lieu of a verbal response to his answer and he flashes another smile my direction before moving to the window and opening it. ¡°Right this way, hunting buddy,¡± he says, and climbs out onto the roof below.