Andy in the Apocalypse [LitRPG System Apocalypse] 3.17 Something to Talk About

17 – Sothing to Talk About

Andy made a point of lowering his spear, confident that he could react fast enough if Kent or his partner—Rusty, apparently—decided to turn violent. “Well, we were hoping to speak to your leadership.”

“Sure, sure. She always speaks to new citizens, but we’ll need you to go through the regular process. We’ve got a kind of orientation and education procedure. It’s an interview, of sorts, too—need to make sure newcors will fit in before we—”

Omar cleared his throat, shifting his shield, as he looked sideways at Andy. The look said sothing like, “Are you gonna tell him or should I?”

Kent looked from Omar to Andy. “Sothing I said?”

“Well, it’s just that we’re not looking to join your community. We’ve got a settlent of our own.”

Omar nodded. “We’ve got so information you all might want.”

As Kent absorbed the words, Andy added, “And we were hoping you might have so, too.”

“So, you aren’t looking for help?” Rusty asked, and when Andy glanced at him, he saw him hauling a large crossbow out of the jeep where he’d been lurking.

“We’re not looking for trouble,” Andy said again.

“Rusty,” Kent said, his voice taking on sothing of a nacing edge, “I told you to keep cool.”

Rusty glared at Kent. His crossbow hung by his side, but the fist that clenched the grip was white-knuckled. Andy could tell he wanted to do sothing, but he was battling with his urge and his respect for—or maybe fear of—Kent. When he didn’t argue, though, or even speak, Kent smiled and gestured up the road toward the wall of school busses.

When he spoke again, his tone shifted again, pleasant and relaxed. “Co on, I’ll bring you soplace you can wait for our leader.”

Andy nodded, following him. Omar did too, but he kept his glimring wolfen eyes fixed on Rusty until they were a good twenty-five yards from the man where he lingered near the wrecked jeep. anwhile, Kent kept speaking: “We usually find that people who stumble upon our place here are looking for help. We only knew about one other nearby settlent, and they were wiped out last week.” He glanced at Andy. “Honestly, thought you were maybe stragglers from that group.”

“What happened to them?” Omar asked.

“The usual—monsters got in. I guess this ti it was a nest of giant insects. That’s the problem: you can’t just build walls and keep a good watch on the roads; you’ve got to look to the sky and the damn ground, too. I guess those things ca up from the sewer and before they knew it, they were hauling people, paralyzed but alive, down into their burrow.”

Andy shuddered. “Sounds awful.” All too vivid images of giant insects like the centipede he and Omar had killed danced through his mind. The thought of being paralyzed but aware while sothing like that ate him was the kind of thing that would keep him up at night.

“So, yeah, we’re used to taking people in—up to five hundred in the community now—but we have a process. Everything starts with an interview, but that’s not my purview.” He shrugged, glancing back toward Rusty. “Don’t hold it against him; we’ve had our fair share of society’s rejects try to get in, too. I can tell him that you both don’t feel like you’ve got bad intentions, but without my ability, it’s hard for other people to understand. You know?”

Omar answered before Andy could, “Magic is hard to wrap your head around.”

By then, they’d reached the bus blockade, and Kent waved to a person inside—another crossbow-wielding sentry—and said, “I’m taking these two through to intake.”

“Okay,” the man replied, voice muffled by a scarf he wore around his neck and mouth.

As they walked between two buses, Kent continued speaking, “Intake is what we call the small gym. That’s where we interview potential citizens and provide shelter to folks until we either ask them to move in or move on.”

Andy and Omar followed him down a paved sidewalk, both of them taking in the dozens of raised-bed planters that had been built on the school’s lawn. Andy turned to Kent. “Do you do that often? Send people away?”

“I’d say about half.” He shrugged. “It sounds harsh, but we’ve got families and kids to think of here. We can’t afford to take in any risky prospects.”

They approached a pair of tal doors, both of which were spray-painted with big black letters to read, “Intake.” Kent opened the right-hand one and then ushered them through. Andy glanced at Omar, who shrugged, hefting his shield as if to remind Andy that they hadn’t been disard. Nodding, Andy stepped through.

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The “small gym” was a good-sized space, large enough for two full basketball courts. One side of the gym was lined with tables and chairs, and the other was dominated by tiered bleachers. So tents were set up on the side opposite the door. There had to have been thirty or forty people in the place, most of them sitting at the tables, talking, but a handful occupied the bleachers, and still others stood around the periter—those were universally ard with crossbows.

Kent pointed to the bleachers. “Just take a load off. Relax for a few while I go and find Denise.” He paused, chuckled softly to himself before adding, “That’s our leader—Denise Lansing.”

“All right.” Andy gave Omar a nudge, and the two of them walked over to the bleachers, where they sat on an empty section of the bottom row.

“What do you think?” Omar asked after Kent had walked across the gym to chat with one of the guards. Andy saw him point their way before walking through another door.

“I think they’re careful, but I can see why. I an, they are in the city—bet they have to fight off monsters or people almost every day.”

Omar nodded. “Yeah. They didn’t try to disarm us.”

“Honestly, that surprised ,” Andy replied. “Especially you with your shield. Those crossbows can’t get through that!”

“But they have archers all around the periter. I can only block in one direction.” He frowned, leaning forward, resting his arms on the shield in question, where it rested before him. “I’m thinking it’s kind of a show of strength. They’re declaring that they aren’t afraid of us.”

Andy thought about it. If those archers were anything like Lucy with their talents, then he and Omar would be in trouble. If his Brimstone Stalker class was active, things might be different—a smoke cloud to provide cover could make a world of difference. As things were, he sat there feeling more and more vulnerable as he ran his eyes around the gym’s periter, counting the archers—nine.

“They must have raided so sporting goods stores,” Omar observed.

“Yeah. Nice bows. Wonder what their average level is.”

“If they’re fighting things like that centipede all the ti, probably pretty high.”

Their further speculation was cut short when one of the doors on the far wall opened and Kent reappeared. He strode toward them, crossing the gym floor with a slender woman in tow. She had long brown hair and wore clothes that made Andy think of Harley Davidsons and movies about biker gangs—black leather pants, a well-worn leather vest embossed with skulls and crosses, and heavy black boots that thudded on the wooden planks as she approached.

“I hear you’ve got news for ,” she said by way of greeting.

“This is Denise,” Kent said, moving to the side to rest one foot on the bleacher not far from Andy.

Andy stood, leaning on his spear, mostly because he didn’t like them both looking down on him. “I’m Andy and this is Omar.”

Omar nodded, still seated.

“So? News?” Denise asked. Her voice was sharp, and though she looked youthful, there were hard lines around her eyes, and her thin lips didn’t smile. Andy looked at Kent, who seed positively affable next to the dour woman. He shrugged.

Andy refocused on Denise, shrugging. “Well, it’s kind of a long story. You have a minute?”

“I’m here, right? Listen, I’m sure you must have an idea how busy I am, yeah? There are four hundred—”

“Five hundred,” Kent interjected.

Denise scowled at him. “Five hundred people in this damn school, and they all want sothing from . So, unless you’re about to tell the end of the world is coming sooner than we thought—” She paused, turning to Kent. “How many days?”

Andy answered for her, “Twelve days until the invasions.”

“Right! You see what I an? I’ve got enough—”

“Let get to the point then,” Andy interrupted, already weary of the woman’s self-important attitude. “Have you had any trouble with goblins?”

She frowned. “Just the usual. So raiding parties here and there while we’re out foraging.”

“So, you didn’t know about the goblin army that was forming up in the canyon? I an up Catalina Highway?”

She shook her head. “No…”

“Was?” Kent asked.

Omar helped Andy out: “We cleared ’em out.”

Denise sighed. “What’s the issue, then? You want a reward? If you need shelter, we’re—”

“Just listen for a minute.” Andy arched an eyebrow, and when she nodded, he told the story of how he’d spied on the Goblin Boss, and how he’d seen the “emissary” and been given a quest. He told them about how he and the others had fought off the goblins, killed the king, and found the map. He finished his story by reaching under his coat and summoning the map from his storage ring, figuring that was safer than letting them know he had the magical container. “…and, on the map were two marks—our settlent and yours.”

He unfurled the thick, yellowed paper halfway—enough to show them their settlent marker, while still keeping squite sa hidden behind the fold. Denise frowned, and Kent ca closer, looking over her shoulder as she studied the roughly drawn sketch of Northeast Tucson. “Well, damn,” she whispered. “So, there’s another faction out there trying to get the goblins to attack us?”

“At least,” Omar said. “Could be they’re working on more than just goblins.”

“Can you describe the, um, emissary?” Denise looked up from the map, her bright hazel eyes drilling into Andy’s.

“Yeah. He was tall—like, really tall—maybe seven feet. He was thin with grayish-green skin, and he had a thick tuft of wiry black hair. His nose and ears were long and pointy, and his eyes were red.”

Denise glanced sharply at Kent, and the man asked, “Was he wearing a tattered black duster?”

Andy turned on him, eyes narrowing. “You know him?”

Kent sighed, frowning as he folded his arms across his chest. When he didn’t answer imdiately, Andy looked at Denise. After a few seconds, she nodded. “Okay. I guess we have sothing to talk about. For starters, that monster used to be a person, and he started out as a mber of our community.”

“Leo Rukowski,” Kent hissed, and the na sounded like a curse.

***Congratulations, Andy! You’ve made progress on your quest: The Mind Behind the Horde! You’ve explored the emissary’s map and found potential allies. More importantly, you’ve learned the emissary’s true identity. Track down Leo Rukowski and stop him before he can sabotage your community!***