NOVEL FROG 12) The Sixth Man
12) The Sixth Man
The cops did help me with the groceries. Although the fat cop only carried in one load, leaving the rest of it to the younger guy. I got the pups inside and secured the door behind the younger cop as he carried in the last of the food.
“You guys want anything? I can put on coffee if this is going to take that long, otherwise, all I got is water or sugar free drink mixes.”
Fat Cop shook his head, "No thanks, we just have to cross your name off a list and then we can get out of your hair, but it won't be the last you have to hear about it. It’s just the last from us, or at least that's what I’m hoping."
I pulled out a chair from my kitchen table, pointed to the other one for Fat Cop, and pushed the third out with my foot for the younger cop.
The fourth chair had gotten broken when I needed to change a light bulb and didn’t feel like getting a five foot ladder from the garage for a two minute job.
I had repaired the chair at least well enough to keep using it for future bulb changing but the wife had refused to let me put it back at the table to be used as a chair. Which I guess I could do now and bring it up from the basement, but it wasn't like I had company all that often, let alone enough people to need four chairs at the table.
Fat cop dug out a notebook and looked over something he had written down at some point while he organized his thoughts.
"Alright, so some of the people over seventy five got classes called Seer, Prophet, or Scholar with a power called Research and they are all saying the same thing. In twenty five days the Dungeons will get twice as strong and put out monsters that are twice as strong as well unless we send in a bunch of senior citizens to clear them out before that deadline."
“And as time goes on, there will be more and more Dungeons appearing every twenty five days as we drift deeper into something called the Terminus Drift, which the Dungeons are supposed to be protecting us from.”
He folded up his booklet and half stood up to put it back in his pants pocket. “So all over the country, the elderly are being asked to volunteer to be armed as much as they can be and go in to protect others. With the focus being on the more fit and able bodied elderly people with confirmed birthdays, so we know they really do have a class.”
The younger cop spoke up, "Not that it matters, if you don't have a class, you can't enter a dungeon, and nothing they've tried has been able to harm one."
I thought that over. “Drones?”
The younger cop raised his brows at me in surprise, and I shook my head at him. “What? I’m old, not dead.”
He shrugged. “Nothing crosses the entrances, not even light or air unless someone with a class carries it over. Once they get things inside it has to be controlled from the inside, no signals get in or out."
I nodded and looked over at the fat cop. “I’m not able bodied, and that's not just me exaggerating because I don’t want to die in some hell hole. I’m in terrible shape and my doctor will testify to that.”
Fat cop took in a long slow breath, “We were told that there's another limit to the dungeons. After the first five people go in, no one else can. Not until either some of the first five people come out, or some of them die.”
He leaned forward. "A Seer said that if you and I mean specifically you, go into a dungeon before a fifth person, they can get six people in and that you can heal people. While healing isn't that rare, there ain't enough healers that are physically capable of walking and pulling a trigger, and mentally still there, for every group to have one.”
The Fat cop leaned back. “You’re needed, and right now they’re just asking. I suspect that pretty soon after enough people die, someone is going to decide to just come get you and shove you into one of those hellholes. And they got those same Seers to find you if you try to run or hide.”
He slowly shook his head. “You might want to make a deal while you can still dictate the terms. Like making sure no one hurts that little green girl outside.”
The younger cop gave the fat one a concerned look. “Red…”
The fat cop looked up at his partner, then went pale, “Oh, shit. I wasn’t trying to threaten her, even if she did nail me with an apple. Whatever she is, she’s just a kid, I just mean she’s an easy target for someone that would threaten her.”
He held up his hands. “You might want to tell her to keep hidden, but I’m not telling anyone about her. I wouldn’t put someone in danger like that. Let alone a kid, or even something that just looks like a kid.” Rubbing his fingers between his eyebrows, he leaned forward on the table. “Christ. I haven't slept in two days. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.”
I looked over at the younger cop who seemed deeply concerned about his partner. Then I asked the fat one, “Do you want to stretch out on the couch for a while, your buddy can tell anyone who calls that you’re still trying to talk me into this.”
He sighed and shook his head, “No, we already lost a couple of people in the area, and even more got hurt. Either bitten or scratched up. This is my job, even when it’s hard.”
Standing up he pushed in his chair, "Thank you for listening."
They both checked my windows to take a look outside before they let me open the front door for them. Then the fat one pushed the shopping cart around to the side of my house while the younger one nearly laid down flat on the sidewalk to check under their car before the two of them got in and drove away.
I took a bite out of my apple and pondered my future.
Which for the moment was going to be to finish the apple. It was juicy and sweet as hell.
So... run? Where? That part about having a Seer being able to find me might be bullshit, which I thought it was, since they would all be first level like me. But this was happening all over the world. Once they started handing old people a shotgun and shoving them into Dungeons in groups of five, no matter where I happened to run to I would get rounded up like the rest of them once things got desperate.
Hell, they could put a nuke on a timer in the lap of a guy in a wheelchair and shove him in, you know they're going to try that at least twice.
As for hiding, again where? I don't have a cabin in the woods anywhere, and even if I bought a cheap car, loaded it up with supplies, and drove it off somewhere in the middle of nowhere to hole up, how long would those supplies last? Let alone my medications?
Then I would have to come back to civilization that would probably be offering cash rewards for old people.
Although… Hermit class. I should be able to live off the land. If I could keep myself fed, and keep myself functional by burning off the blood sugar by channeling Life into things, then maybe...
I still got cancer. It might take it a while, but the cancer would be right back to where it was soon enough. I only had one option to deal with that.
“Shit. I’m going on an adventure.”
As in what you would call someone else having a horrible time somewhere far, far, away. Only in this case, it was me who was going to be suffering, and it would only be a few miles away.
Where is it anyways? The Dungeon shooting out monsters in this area.
I went online and got the address of where the local Dungeon had opened up, I didn’t even have to use the computer map to find the place.
It's only two and a half miles away.
The former Lannis Industrial Plant, where I used to work for almost forty years saving up enough money and counting off the days until full social security when I would finally be able to afford to retire and never have to go there again.
“Just when you think you got out...”