Kael woke up with a jolt.
He didn't remember falling asleep. He was sitting on the concrete floor, back against the workbench, the Saw-Spear clutched across his lap like a teddy bear made of iron and hate.
His neck was stiff. His mouth tasted like sandpaper.
For a second, just a split second, he thought it was a nightmare. He waited for the sound of traffic on 4th Street. He waited for Miller to call and complain about his transmission.
Instead, he heard the flies.
A low, buzzing drone. Thousands of them.
Kael opened his eyes. The garage was dim. Morning light filtered through the skylights, but it was grey and hazy, filtered through the smoke that still hung over the city.
He stood up, his joints popping. The new Constitution stat made him feel... dense. Heavy. But not sluggish. It was the feeling of a coiled spring.
He checked the gate. The [Reinforced Steel Gate] was solid. No dents. But there were scratches on the outside. Something had tried to get in during the night.
He checked the welded office door. Solid.
"Safe," he muttered.
He walked to the sink in the corner to splash water on his face. He turned the handle.
Hiss. Drip.
Brown sludge sputtered out, then nothing.
"Great."
He tried the other tap. Dry.
The city water pressure was gone. Pumps were off. Or pipes had burst.
Kael looked at the mini-fridge. He had two beers and a jar of pickles. That was liquid, but it wasn't water. Alcohol would dehydrate him. Pickles were salt.
"Thirst kills in three days," Kael said to the empty room. "But in this heat? Maybe two."
He needed a plan.
He activated the System.
[DAY 2 BEGINS] [Status: Dehydrated (Minor)] [Current SP: 43]
He walked to the center of the shop. He needed to see what was happening outside before he made a move. The skylights were too dirty to see through clearly.
He looked at the ladder bolted to the back wall. It led to a small maintenance hatch on the roof.
He climbed.
The hatch was rusted shut.
[Object: Roof Hatch] [Durability: 40/100] [Status: Rusted]
Kael didn't bother unlocking it. He braced his shoulder against the metal and shoved. With his Strength at 6 and the new muscle mass, the rust snapped like sugar glass. The hatch flew open with a screech.
Hot air blasted him in the face. It smelled of burning rubber and rotting meat.
Kael crawled out onto the roof.
The view was a nightmare.
4th Street was a graveyard of cars. The delivery truck from yesterday was a burnt-out husk. The laundromat across the street had been looted; clothes were scattered across the pavement like confetti.
Bodies lay everywhere. Some were still. Some were dragging themselves aimlessly in circles.
Kael stayed low, keeping his head below the parapet wall. He didn't want to be a silhouette against the sky.
He scanned the area.
To the left: The residential block. Houses were dark. Some had broken windows. A few had "HELP" painted on the roof in white sheets. Those were targets for bandits, not rescue.
To the right: The industrial park. Smoke poured from the chemical plant miles away.
Straight ahead: The Prize.
[Location Detected: "Stop-N-Go" Convenience Store] [Risk Level: High] [Loot Potential: High]
The Stop-N-Go. It was directly across the street, maybe fifty yards from his front gate.
Through the smashed front window of the store, he could see shelves. Most were tipped over. But the back coolers... the glass was intact.
Water. Gatorade. Soda.
But between him and the store was the "Parking Lot of Death."
There were at least ten of them.
Ten zombies shuffling around the pumps. One was wearing a police uniform. The gun was still in the holster.
Kael stared at the gun.
[Object: Glock 17 Service Pistol] [Condition: Unknown] [Ammo: Unknown]
If he could get that gun, everything changed.
But charging in with a spear against ten of them was suicide. He needed a distraction. Or an edge.
He crawled back down the hatch and dropped into the garage.
43 Points.
He started pacing the shop floor, eyes scanning every piece of junk he had ignored for years.
"I need points," he said. "Everything goes."
He walked over to the corner where he kept the "scrap pile"—useless parts he couldn't legally sell but was too lazy to throw away.
Old brake pads. Cracked radiators. A bucket of bent nails.
He touched a rusty exhaust pipe.
[Object: Scrap Metal] [Value: 1 SP]
"Absorb."
The pipe disintegrated into blue dust.
[+1 SP]
He touched a broken alternator.
[Value: 2 SP]
"Absorb."
He went into a frenzy. He moved through the shop like a locust.
Old tires? Absorbed. The calendar on the wall? Absorbed. The broken coffee maker? Absorbed.
For an hour, the only sound in the garage was Kael muttering "Absorb" and the soft chime of the System.
The garage started to look cleaner. Emptier. The clutter that had defined his life for five years was vanishing, converted into raw survival currency.
He stopped when he reached the office partition. He was sweating.
[Current SP: 115]
He had cleaned out the trash. Now he had enough for a decent upgrade.
He looked at his gear.
[Weapon: Scavenger's Saw-Spear (Common)] [Armor: Greasy Coveralls (Trash)] [Boots: Steel-Toe Work Boots (Common)]
He was practically naked. If one of them bit his arm, it was game over. The Constitution boost helped, but he didn't want to test the virus again.
He needed armor.
He walked to the locker room in the back. He opened his locker. Inside was his old motorcycle jacket. Heavy leather. Reinforced elbows.
He pulled it out. It was stiff from disuse.
[Item: Leather Jacket] [Grade: Common] [Defense: Low] [Upgrade Available: Studded Riot Jacket] [Cost: 60 SP]
"Do it."
[CONFIRMED.]
The leather rippled. It turned blacker, oilier. Metal studs erupted from the shoulders and forearms—not for fashion, but for biting protection. The zipper thickened into a heavy-duty clasp.
[Item Upgraded: Riot Leather Jacket] [Grade: Uncommon] [Defense: Medium] [Attribute: Bite Resistance +15%]
He put it on. It felt like a suit of armor. Hot, but safe.
He had 55 SP left.
He looked at the Saw-Spear. It was good, but it was heavy. And the duct tape was already peeling from the fight yesterday.
[Upgrade Weapon: Saw-Spear -> Motorized Ripper Pole] [Cost: 50 SP] [Requirement: Small Motor (Available in Inventory)]
Kael grinned. A savage, humorless grin.
"Upgrade."
The iron pipe didn't change much, but the head of the weapon shifted. The circular saw blade became larger, the teeth sharper. A small, compact motor housing integrated itself into the shaft. A trigger appeared near his grip.
He squeezed the trigger.
WRRRRRRR.
The blade didn't spin fast—it wasn't a chainsaw—but it rotated with enough torque to chew through bone.
[Item: Motorized Ripper Pole] [Grade: Uncommon] [Damage: High] [Noise: Medium] [Battery Life: 30 Minutes Continuous Use]
He strapped the battery pack to his belt.
He was ready.
He walked to the [Reinforced Steel Gate].
He put his hand on the control box.
"Time to go shopping."
He hit the button.
The heavy steel gate began to rise.
The steel gate rose with a low hum.
Kael stood in the center of the opening, the Ripper Pole held low. He didn't rush out. He waited until the gate was at knee height, watching the shadows on the pavement.
Nothing moved.
The sun was blinding. The heat hit him instantly, radiating off the asphalt like a physical wall. It was quiet. Too quiet.
He stepped out.
The parking lot of his shop was empty. The three bodies from yesterday—the teenagers—were gone. Dragged away? Or did they get up? He didn't know, and he didn't like it.
He crouched low behind a rusted dumpster, scanning the street.
The Stop-N-Go was fifty yards away. Between him and the prize was the wasteland of 4th Street.
The group of ten zombies was still there by the gas pumps. They were lethargic, standing in the sun like statues made of rotting meat. The heat seemed to slow them down.
The cop zombie was leaning against Pump 4. The Glock was still in its holster.
Kael checked the wind. It was blowing toward him. Good. They couldn't smell him yet.
He picked up a glass soda bottle from the gutter.
He needed to split them up. He couldn't fight ten. Not in the open.
He wound up and hurled the bottle. It soared over the street, over the heads of the zombies, and smashed against the brick wall of the laundromat far to the left.
CRASH.
The sound was sharp in the dead air.
All ten heads snapped toward the noise. A collective groan rose from the group—a sound like grinding stones.
Seven of them started shuffling toward the laundromat. They moved like a herd, drawn by the stimulus.
But three stayed.
The cop. A woman in a floral dress. And a large man wearing a butcher's apron that was stiff with dried blood.
They didn't move. They just stood there, swaying slightly.
"Deaf?" Kael whispered. "Or smart?"
It didn't matter. Three was manageable.
Kael tightened his grip on the Ripper Pole. He thumbed the trigger, but didn't press it. He needed silence for the approach.
He moved.
He didn't run. Running made noise. He walked quickly, placing his boots carefully on the pavement, rolling from heel to toe. The "Riot Leather Jacket" creaked softly, but the sound was lost in the ambient hum of the city flies.
He crossed the street. He reached the first abandoned car—a red sedan—and used it for cover.
He was twenty feet away now.
The Butcher was the biggest threat. He was massive, easily 300 pounds. One hit from those arms would crush Kael's ribs, leather jacket or not.
Kael took a deep breath.
Plan: Kill the Cop first. Get the gun. Shoot the Butcher.
He burst from cover.
He closed the distance in three seconds.
The Cop saw him first. It turned, its clouded eyes locking onto Kael. It reached for him, mouth opening in a silent snarl.
Kael didn't slow down. He stepped inside the Cop's reach, lowered his shoulder, and slammed into its chest.
Thud.
The Cop staggered back, tripping over the fuel hose. It fell hard onto the concrete.
Kael didn't stop to finish it. He spun toward the Floral Dress woman who was lunging at him.
He squeezed the trigger on the Ripper Pole.
WRRRRRRR.
The motor whined. The saw blade spun into a blur.
He swung the pole in a tight arc. The blade caught the woman in the side of the head.
It was messy. The blade bit deep, bone chips spraying. The motor groaned under the resistance, but it chewed through. She dropped instantly, her brain scrambled.
[KILL CONFIRMED: +5 SP]
A shadow fell over him.
The Butcher.
The big man didn't shuffle. He charged. A lumbering, unstoppable wall of meat.
Kael tried to bring the spear up, but he was too slow.
The Butcher backhanded him.
It felt like getting hit with a sledgehammer. Kael flew backward, his boots skidding on the asphalt. He slammed into the side of the gas pump. The metal casing dented.
"Ugh..."
Air left his lungs. His vision swam.
The Butcher roared—a wet, gurgling bellow—and raised both fists.
Kael scrambled to the side just as the fists came down.
DONG.
The fists hit the gas pump where Kael's head had been a second ago. The metal crumpled.
If that hit me, I'd be paste.
Kael rolled to his feet. He was hurt. His ribs ached. But the adrenaline was masking the worst of it.
The Butcher turned, slow but relentless.
Kael looked for the Cop. The Cop was crawling toward him on the ground, snapping its jaws.
Kael backed up. He was sandwiched. Butcher in front. Cop on the ground to his left.
He needed space.
He thumbed the trigger of the Ripper again.
"Come on, big boy," Kael taunted.
The Butcher lunged.
Kael didn't dodge this time. He dropped to one knee.
He thrust the spear upward.
He aimed for the gut. The soft spot.
The spinning saw blade punched into the Butcher's massive stomach. The apron shredded. The blade sank in.
WRRRR-CHUNK.
The motor seized. The blade got stuck in the layers of fat and muscle.
The Butcher screamed. It wasn't dead. It was pissed.
It grabbed the shaft of the spear with both hands and pulled.
Kael was lifted off his feet. He held on, dangling for a second before letting go.
He dropped to the ground. Weaponless.
The Butcher stood there, the motorized spear sticking out of its gut like a toothpick, the motor still buzzing faintly.
It took a step toward Kael.
Kael scrambled backward on his ass. His hand brushed against something cold on the ground.
The Cop.
The Cop zombie had crawled right next to him. It lunged for his leg.
Kael kicked it in the face, driving the heel of his boot into its nose. The head snapped back.
He saw the holster. It was right there.
Kael lunged. He didn't try to unclip the holster. He ripped the belt loop. He tore the leather.
The gun came free.
He rolled onto his back.
The Butcher was standing over him, raising a fist for the killing blow.
Kael pointed the Glock. He didn't aim. He just shoved the barrel toward the mass of flesh above him.
He pulled the trigger.
BANG.
The recoil shocked his wrist.
The Butcher flinched. A hole appeared in his chest.
BANG. BANG.
Two more shots. Center mass.
The Butcher staggered, but didn't fall. It was too big. The 9mm rounds were just poking holes in the meat.
It roared again, blood spraying from its mouth.
"Head," Kael screamed at himself. "Aim for the head!"
He steadied his hands. The Butcher's fist was descending.
BANG.
The bullet hit the Butcher in the left eye. The back of its head blew out in a spray of pink mist.
The massive body went limp. It collapsed forward.
Kael scrambled sideways, barely avoiding being crushed by the carcass. The Butcher hit the pavement with a ground-shaking thud.
[KILL CONFIRMED: +20 SP] [Target: Heavy Infected (Butcher)] [Bonus: Giant Slayer]
Kael lay on the hot asphalt, staring at the sky. His ears were ringing. The smell of gunpowder was sharp and clean, cutting through the rot.
He sat up.
The Cop was still crawling. It was persistent.
Kael looked at the gun. The slide was forward. Still loaded.
He stood up, walked over to the crawling policeman, and put the muzzle against its temple.
"Thanks for the loan."
BANG.
[KILL CONFIRMED: +5 SP]
Silence returned to the gas station.
Kael checked the surroundings. The seven zombies at the laundromat had heard the shots. They were turning around. Coming back.
And more were coming from down the street. The dinner bell had rung again.
"Grab and go," Kael said.
He retrieved his Ripper Pole from the Butcher's gut. It took a hard yank to dislodge it. The blade was covered in yellow fat, but the motor still spun.
He checked the Glock. He ejected the magazine. 12 rounds left. Plus one in the chamber.
He holstered the gun in his belt.
He ran toward the Stop-N-Go.
The glass doors were shattered. He stepped through the frame, glass crunching under his boots.
The smell inside was bad. Rotten milk. Spilled beer. But it was cooler than outside.
He ignored the shelves of chips. He went straight to the back.
The coolers.
He yanked the door open.
It was glorious.
Rows of bottled water. Gatorade. Energy drinks.
Kael grabbed a plastic shopping basket from the floor. He started sweeping bottles into it.
Water first. Ten bottles. Then Gatorade. Sugar and electrolytes. Beef jerky packets hanging on a strip. He took the whole strip. Batteries. AA and AAA.
His basket was overflowing. It was heavy.
He turned to leave.
Then he saw it.
Behind the counter, on the top shelf where they kept the "premium" stuff.
A carton of cigarettes. And a bottle of high-end whiskey.
Kael hesitated. He didn't smoke. But in the apocalypse, vices were currency.
He vaulted the counter. He grabbed the whiskey.
As he reached for the cigarettes, a hand shot up from behind the counter.
It grabbed his wrist.
"Help... me..."
Kael froze. He looked down.
A girl was huddled in the space under the register. She wasn't a zombie. She was young, maybe twenty. She was wearing a Stop-N-Go uniform.
Her face was pale. She was clutching her side. A dark stain was spreading across her shirt.
"Please," she whispered. "Don't leave me."
Kael looked at her. Then he looked at the door. The seven zombies from the laundromat were crossing the street. They were thirty seconds away.
He looked at his basket of water. He could run. He could make it back to the garage easily.
If he took her... she was dead weight. She was bleeding. She would attract them.
[Decision Triggered] [Option A: Save Survivor (Risk: High)] [Option B: Leave Her (Risk: Low)]
Kael gritted his teeth.
"Damn it."
Kael looked at the girl. Her name tag said "Emily." Her skin was clammy, sweat sticking her hair to her forehead.
"Can you walk?" Kael demanded.
Emily shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "My leg... I think it's broken."
Kael looked out the shattered front window. The seven zombies from the laundromat were stepping onto the curb. They were twenty feet away. Behind them, further down the street, more shapes were moving through the smoke.
[MISSION TRIGGERED: THE FIRST SUBJECT] [Objective: Escort Survivor 'Emily' to the Shelter] [Reward: 100 SP + Unlock: Personnel Management System] [Failure Consequence: Loss of Potential Medic/Laborer]
"100 Points," Kael muttered. That was two steel gates. That was half an antibiotic.
He made the calculation. She was an asset.
"Grab the basket," Kael ordered. He shoved the heavy basket of water and batteries into her lap. "Hold it tight. If you drop it, I leave you."
He grabbed her by the back of her uniform collar and her belt. He hauled her up. She screamed in pain.
"Shut up," Kael hissed. "Scream and you die."
He threw her arm over his shoulder, taking her weight. She was light, but with the basket, she was awkward.
They moved toward the door.
Too late.
The first zombie—a guy in a dirty tracksuit—stepped through the broken glass frame.
Kael stopped. He was in the middle of Aisle 2 (Chips and Snacks).
"Stay here," Kael told her. He propped her against a rack of Doritos.
He stepped forward, the Ripper Pole buzzing in his hand.
The Tracksuit Zombie snarled and lunged.
Kael didn't fancy a duel. He kicked a display stand of beef jerky, sending it crashing into the zombie's legs. The zombie stumbled.
Kael stepped in. He thrust the Ripper Pole into the zombie's chest. The saw blade spun, catching on the zipper of the tracksuit. It chewed through fabric and sternum.
WRRRR-CRUNCH.
Black blood sprayed over Kael's riot jacket.
[KILL CONFIRMED: +5 SP]
One down. Six to go.
Two more entered the shop. A teenager with a backpack and an old woman in a nightgown.
The store was tight. Cramped. This was good for Kael. They couldn't swarm him.
He waited for the Teenager to pass the counter. As the zombie turned the corner, Kael swung the pole like a baseball bat.
The heavy motor housing smashed into the Teenager's temple. The skull caved in. The zombie dropped without a sound.
[KILL CONFIRMED: +5 SP]
The Old Woman was faster. She scrambled over the fallen Teenager, clawing at Kael's legs.
Kael tried to bring the pole down, but the aisle was too narrow. The shaft hit the shelf. Bags of chips exploded, showering them in salty confetti.
The Old Woman sank her teeth into his boot.
"Get off!"
Kael stomped. The steel toe of his work boot connected with her jaw. Her lower jaw shattered, hanging loose by a thread of skin. She didn't stop. She kept trying to gum his leg.
Kael drew the Glock with his left hand. He didn't have a good angle.
BLAM.
The shot went wide, blowing a hole in the linoleum floor.
He adjusted. He shoved the barrel against the top of her head.
BLAM.
She went limp.
[KILL CONFIRMED: +5 SP]
"Three," Kael counted. He holstered the gun. Ammo was too precious.
He looked at the door. Four more were blocking the exit. They were bunched up, trying to squeeze through the frame at the same time.
"Emily!" Kael yelled without looking back. "We're moving!"
He ran back, grabbed her, and dragged her toward the rear of the store.
"Is there a back door?" he shouted.
"Storage room," she gasped. "But it's locked. Key's in the office."
"Screw the key."
He dragged her to the heavy metal door at the back labeled "EMPLOYEES ONLY."
He kicked it. Solid steel. It wouldn't budge.
He looked at his Ripper Pole.
[Battery: 15%]
"Enough for a lock," Kael said.
He jammed the saw blade against the door handle mechanism. He squeezed the trigger.
SCREEEEEEECH.
Sparks flew. The sound was agonizing, high-pitched and drilling. Metal ground against metal.
The zombies in the front of the store heard it. They started stumbling down the aisles, knocking over displays.
"Come on, come on," Kael urged the machine.
The lock mechanism glowed red, then sheared off.
Kael kicked the door. It swung open.
Heat blasted them. They were in the alleyway behind the shops. It was filled with dumpsters and rotting garbage.
Kael hauled Emily out.
"Where are we going?" she cried. She was pale, on the verge of passing out.
"Across the street," Kael said. "My place."
He looked down the alley. It was clear for now. But to get to the garage, they had to go back out onto the main road.
He hoisted her up again. They stumbled down the alley, Kael's boots splashing in puddles of questionable liquid.
They reached the edge of the alley. 4th Street lay before them.
The garage was directly across. The [Reinforced Steel Gate] was still open, a dark cave mouth waiting for them.
But between the alley and the garage was fifty yards of open killing ground.
And the noise from the store had drawn a crowd.
There were maybe fifteen of them now. A loose pack, wandering the street between the Stop-N-Go and the Garage.
Kael cursed. "They cut us off."
He looked at Emily. She was fading. The basket of water was slipping from her grip.
"Don't you drop that water," Kael growled.
He checked his SP.
[Current SP: 145] (115 start + 30 kills).
He needed a distraction. A big one.
He looked at the parked cars lining the street. A blue pickup truck was closest to them.
[Object: Ford F-150] [Status: Fuel Tank Full] [Upgrade: Remote Detonator?] [Cost: Too High]
Kael shook his head. He couldn't blow it up with his mind yet.
He pulled the Glock. 9 rounds left.
"Can you run?" Kael asked.
"No."
"Then hop. Fast."
Kael pointed the Glock at the pickup truck. Not at the tank—that only worked in movies—but at the window.
Smash. He broke the window with the butt of the gun.
The alarm started blaring.
HONK. HONK. HONK.
The sound echoed off the buildings.
Every zombie on the street turned toward the blue truck. They started converging on it, drawn by the noise.
"Go!"
Kael grabbed Emily and broke cover.
They ran. It was an ugly, three-legged race. Kael was practically carrying her, her broken leg dragging.
They hit the asphalt. The heat was suffocating.
Ten yards. Twenty yards.
A zombie turned away from the truck. It saw them.
"Fresh meat!" it hissed. (No, zombies don't talk. It just hissed.)
It charged.
Kael didn't stop. He didn't let go of Emily. He swung the Ripper Pole one-handed.
Whack.
He didn't use the motor. He just used it as a club. The zombie took the blow to the shoulder and spun away, but it didn't fall.
"Keep moving!"
Thirty yards.
Two more zombies blocked the path to the garage.
Kael dropped Emily. "Crawl!"
He stepped forward. He thumbed the trigger.
Click.
Silence.
[Battery Depleted]
"Garbage!" Kael screamed.
He reversed the pole, holding it like a spear.
The first zombie lunged. Kael thrust the dead saw-blade into its face. The metal teeth crunched into the eye socket. It stuck.
The zombie fell, dragging the weapon down with it.
Kael let go. He was unarmed.
The second zombie was on him.
It grabbed his jacket. The studs on the [Riot Leather Jacket] bit into the zombie's hands, but it held on. It pulled Kael close, its snapping teeth inches from his throat.
Kael could smell the rot on its breath.
He couldn't reach his gun. His arms were pinned.
He remembered his stats.
[Strength: 6] [Constitution: 10]
He didn't try to push it away. He headbutted it.
CRACK.
Kael's forehead slammed into the zombie's nose.
With 10 Constitution, Kael's skull was like a bowling ball. The zombie's face collapsed.
The grip loosened.
Kael shoved the stunned creature away. He drew the Glock.
BANG.
Point blank execution.
He spun around. Emily was crawling on her elbows, dragging the basket of water. She was ten feet from the garage door.
Kael grabbed her by the belt and heaved her up. He threw her bodily into the garage. She landed hard on the concrete, sliding across the floor. Bottles of water rolled everywhere.
Kael dove in after her.
He hit the button on the wall.
The motor hummed. The [Reinforced Steel Gate] began to descend.
Outside, the horde was turning. The truck alarm had died. They saw the movement. They started running toward the closing door.
"Faster," Kael pleaded.
The door was at waist height. Knee height.
A hand reached under. Pale, dirty fingers clawing at the concrete.
CLANG.
The heavy steel slammed down, severing the fingers cleanly.
They lay on the garage floor, twitching.
Kael sat with his back against the gate, gasping for air. His lungs burned. His head throbbed from the headbutt.
The garage was dark, cool, and safe.
[MISSION COMPLETE: THE FIRST SUBJECT] [Reward: 100 SP] [System Update: Personnel Management Unlocked]
[Current SP: 250]
Kael looked at Emily. She was lying amidst the scattered water bottles, clutching her leg, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.
"Drink," Kael rasped, pointing at a bottle. "Then we fix your leg. Then you work."
The severed fingers on the concrete floor stopped twitching.
Kael watched them for a second, catching his breath. He reached out and touched the pale, dirty digits.
[Biological Waste Detected] [Absorb: +1 SP]
"Better than nothing," he muttered. The fingers dissolved into blue dust.
[Current SP: 251]
He pushed himself up, his back groaning against the cold steel of the gate. He walked over to Emily.
She was sitting in a puddle of water from a cracked bottle, clutching her shin. Her face was grey, eyes squeezed shut. She was shivering—shock was setting in.
Kael kicked a plastic bottle toward her. It skittered across the floor and hit her hip.
"Drink," he ordered.
She flinched, opening her eyes. She looked at him—at the blood-spattered leather jacket, the gun in his belt, the cold expression on his face. She grabbed the bottle with shaking hands and downed it, water spilling down her chin.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You saved me."
"I invested in you," Kael corrected. He leaned down and picked up the bottle of whiskey from the scattered loot. The seal was intact. "Don't confuse the two."
He walked over to the workbench and set the whiskey down. Then he turned back to her.
"System," he subvocalized. "Open Personnel Management."
A new window expanded in his vision, hovering over Emily's head like a video game status bar.
[SUBJECT: EMILY VANCE] [Role: Civilian] [Loyalty: 15/100 (Fear)] [Status: Injured (Tibial Fracture), Shock] [Attributes:]
Strength: 3 (Weak)
Agility: 4 (Impaired)
Intelligence: 8 (High)
Constitution: 4 (Fragile)
[Traits Detected:]
[Pharmacology Major]: Grants +20% efficiency when crafting medical supplies. Can identify drugs/chemicals.
[Coward]: Panic threshold is low.
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Pharmacology student?"
Emily looked up, startled. "How... how did you know that? I didn't tell you."
"I know a lot of things," Kael said. He walked over to the tool wall. "Intelligence 8. That's useful. Means you can read big words and mix chemicals without blowing us up."
He grabbed a roll of duct tape and two lengths of flat steel bar stock.
"We need to fix that leg. I don't have a hospital. I have a garage."
He knelt beside her.
"This is going to hurt," he said flatly.
"Wait, do you have painkillers? Or—"
Kael didn't wait. He grabbed her ankle and pulled.
CRACK.
Emily screamed. It was a raw, piercing shriek that echoed off the metal walls.
"Quiet!" Kael hissed.
He aligned the bone. He slapped the steel bars on either side of her shin and started wrapping the duct tape. Tight. Unforgiving.
She was sobbing now, biting her fist to stifle the noise.
"Done," Kael said, standing up. "It's a splint. Keep weight off it for two weeks. If it gets infected, we cut it off."
He walked back to his desk. He felt the exhaustion pulling at him again. The Constitution boost gave him energy, but the mental strain was real.
He looked at his SP balance. 251 Points.
He had a base. He had a follower (sort of). He had water.
But he had lost his primary weapon. The Ripper Pole was lying on the street, probably being gnawed on by a zombie.
He needed to secure the interior.
[Upgrade Menu]
He looked at the options for the Garage Interior.
[Option 1: Basic Generator (Gasoline)] [Cost: 150 SP] [Output: 5kW] [Fuel: Requires Scavenging]
[Option 2: Water Filtration System (Raincatcher)] [Cost: 100 SP] [Output: 5 Gallons/Day]
[Option 3: Arsenal Bench (Ammo Press)] [Cost: 200 SP] [Requires: Lead, Powder, Brass]
Kael tapped the desk. Fuel was a problem. The gas stations would run dry or be camped by gangs. Solar was better, but more expensive.
But wait. He had the [Sovereign of Construction] class. He shouldn't just buy things; he should build them and then upgrade them. It was cheaper.
"Emily," Kael said.
She was wiping her eyes, leaning against a stack of tires. "What?"
"The Stop-N-Go. Did they have propane tanks? For grills?"
She sniffed. "Yeah. Outside in the cage."
"Good to know."
For now, he needed light. The skylights were darkening. The sun was gone.
He looked at the overhead fluorescent lights. They were flickering. The grid was dying.
[Upgrade: Electrical Wiring] [Target: Garage Grid] [Modification: Efficiency Optimization] [Cost: 50 SP]
"Do it," Kael commanded.
[-50 SP]
The wiring in the walls hummed. The flickering stopped. The lights grew brighter, cleaner, consuming less power. It wouldn't stop the blackout, but it would make his batteries last longer when he hooked them up.
[Current SP: 201]
He looked at the corner of the room, near the welding rig.
"System, I want to build a sleeping quarter. I'm not sleeping on the floor again."
[Construction Mode] [Design: Bunk Bed (Steel)] [Materials: Scrap Pipe, Sheet Metal] [Cost: 20 SP (System Assistance)]
Kael gathered the materials. With the System guiding his hands, he welded the frame in ten minutes. It was ugly, industrial, and bolted to the floor.
He threw some rags on the bottom bunk.
"You take the bottom," Kael told Emily. "If you try to steal my gun while I sleep, the System wakes me up and I shoot you. Understood?"
Emily nodded frantically. "I won't. I swear."
Kael climbed onto the top bunk. The steel mesh was hard, but it was better than concrete.
He checked his Glock. 7 rounds in the mag. One in the chamber.
"Lights out," Kael said.
He reached for the switch on the wall—installed by the System during the wiring upgrade—and killed the overheads.
The garage plunged into darkness.
Kael drifted in a light doze. His ears were tuned to the outside world. The sound dampenning on the gate was good, but he could still feel the vibrations of heavy vehicles passing by on the main road.
Hummmm...
Then, silence.
The low hum of the refrigerator in the corner died. The streetlights outside, visible through the skylight, winked out.
Total blackness.
The grid had finally failed.
"Kael?" Emily's voice was a whisper from the bottom bunk. "The fridge stopped."
"I know."
"My insulin... it needs to be kept cold. I'm Type 1 diabetic."
Kael lay there in the dark. He stared at the ceiling.
Of course.
She was a Pharmacology student because she had to be.
[MISSION UPDATE] [Crisis: The Cold Chain] [Objective: Secure a Power Source within 24 Hours] [Failure: Subject 'Emily' enters Diabetic Coma]
Kael closed his eyes.
"Go to sleep, Emily," he said, his voice void of emotion. "Tomorrow, we find a generator. Or you die."
He rolled over.
In the silence of the dead city, a new blue box appeared, glowing softly in the dark.
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: SURVIVED 48 HOURS] [REWARD: SYSTEM STORE EXPANSION] [NEW CATEGORY: TRAPS & TURRETS]
Kael smiled in the dark.
"Traps," he whispered. "Now we're talking."