Tsaimath
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Interlude: Don't turn around...
🕑 Added 2023-05-13 16:00:05 +0000 UTCJust a little over a month ago, Jason would have been out partying on a Friday night. Drinking, dancing, having fun with his buddies, and doing his best to get lucky at night's end. Just one month ago.
But then, like they said in one of the old animes he’d watched as a kid, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. A wave of fire covered the horizon, sweeping away everything he had ever known. Including his family, most of his friends, the grades he had worked just hard enough to get and everything else in his comfortable life. Leaving nothing but ruins, ruins, screeching monsters and a fucked-up world that he would have loved if only it was on the right side of a monitor. It would be a wonderful world if it was contained within a video game or a movie, the idea of watching the survivors of the apocalypse struggle, bond and grow as they overcame the challenges of a changed world was a wonderful one. At least it was until you had to live it.
Watching challenges was great, having to face them? Not so much. Betrayal, drama and near-death experiences? Great to experience when they were plot lines in a story. Not so great if it was the story of your life.
Jason was no hero, it was something he had quickly learned after everything went to shit. He didn’t want to be the brave soldier, marching forward to his death, dying in a glorious last stand to keep his companions safe. He wanted to be one of those who remained safe, he didn’t want to be a hero. But sadly, heroes were in short supply, everyone was trying to survive and somehow, he, too, had to do his part.
In this case, his part was to keep watch in the night. At first, he had been one of the people holing up at the YMCA in the city, hiding, just trying to survive. He didn’t want to head out during the day and gather supplies, that sounded like a surefire way to get yourself mauled or just straight-out killed, but he had to do his part. Or he wouldn’t get anything of the supplies. Thus, he opted to take the night watch, first around the YMCA and now, after even more shit had hit the fan, around Apple Gate Farm.
It sounded incredibly easy, at least in theory. He was used to staying awake all night, even with drinks and sometimes drugs involved, so it should be incredibly easy to wander the boundary for a few hours, carrying one of the weird, glowing stones the stout, never fat, denmother had somehow magicked together, and making sure that nothing wandered too close. He was no great fighter but this much, he should be able to do.
So far, he had been lucky. Nothing had bothered him, he had even managed to kill a few of those things with the help of others, staying as far back as possible and beating on them with the longest stick he had managed to find. Had gained levels, like this was some sort of bizarre game, only a game he didn’t have a choice but to play. Sometimes, when he was resting, he wondered if there was some god out there, watching their lives like it was some sort of perverse entertainment, some documentary about the poor, wretched humans, trying to survive. Maybe with David Attenborough commentating the whole thing, ‘And here, we see the average human, trying to defend his territory from a monster…’.
He had never been one to ask the big questions, had never wondered about the purpose of life, it had never felt important to him. But somehow, after everything about his life had changed, maybe asking about the why was important, especially when one was standing in the dark, walking around a smelly farm with a glowing rock in one’s hand. At that point, asking how the fuck one managed to get into that situation suddenly felt quite important. And if there was a way to get rid of the troubles and maybe get back into a comfortable situation.
A snort escaped him at the idea. Comfortable, none of the people here were comfortable. The closest one got to comfortable were those weirdos who could do magic. They never had to keep watch, they got escorted out if needed, people protecting them because they needed to train. No, they didn’t need to take any real risks, they had their magic and that made them valuable to the community. Sadly, the closest Jason came to conjuring water was taking a piss.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Jason continued on his way, remembering the inspection just a day before. That old witch from the gym had apparently decided that the guards weren’t watchful enough during the night. Nothing had ever happened, and yet, the old witch had lit into them, verbally tearing them apart, as if it was easy to remain awake, aware and vigilant for hours on end. To stave off boredom, without letting your mind drift into flights of fancy, to keep watchful without veering into paranoia to the point that you were seeing things that weren’t there. Nobody wanted to be the one who cried wolf, only to realise that they had been frightened by a cluster of leaves or some other harmless thing.
Staring into the hedges that acted as the boundary around this part of the farm, he tried to listen for anything out of the ordinary but whether the rustling leaves came from the wind or from some nefarious creeper, he couldn’t say. There was a stiff breeze, so it most likely wasn’t anything troublesome.
Continuing on his path, he looked into the sky, trying to gauge how much longer he had to keep watch. Without a clock, it was hard to keep track of time, especially in the dark, trying to track time by watching the moon was a pain.
“Good evening,” a soft voice spoke behind him, female and far too close for comfort. He tried to scream, only for his voice to come out as a terrified squeak, thanks to a chillingly cold sensation tracing his throat. The sensation was enough to send a shiver down his spine and caused a small accident down below.
“You should be more careful, if I wanted to hurt you, you would be nothing but a dead body, rapidly bleeding out on the ground,” the voice continued, still speaking in a soft voice as if they were discussing nothing of importance. Maybe the weather, but certainly not his possible demise.
“Who are you?!” Jason finally managed to ask, his voice far too high-pitched and frightened for his own ego. But luckily, his ego was currently on vacation, having fled the moment his bladder loosened a little.
“They call me many names,” the voice replied, sounding almost playful, “You may call me Jade.”
“And you are supposed to take us to your leaders, did you not listen?” a second voice asked, this one just as close, also female, but speaking with a much sharper tone, prodding him into action.
“Yes!” he squeaked again, thanks to a sharp point digging into his side.
Finally, the freezingly cold sensation that had been sitting on his throat and paralysing him with the fear disappeared and he could take a step forward. Turning around, pushing the drive to flee down, he could finally see those who had spoken to him. Three figures were standing in the darkness, the details almost impossible to discern. Two slender, humanoid shapes, one tall and one short, their features veiled in darkness, despite his light-crystal. Somehow, it was as if the light of his crystal was trying to avoid getting close to them, making it impossible to discern their features. The third shape was some sort of beast, four-legged and almost the size of a calf, but somehow, despite the massive form, his gut gave him the impression that the beast was the least dangerous of the three.
“I’ll guide you,” Jason managed to tell them, his voice slowly settling back into his normal tone. And guiding them he would, wherever they wanted to go. He had no desire to mess with these three, he didn’t want to be the hero. He wanted to be alive at the end of the night.
Leading the way, he took them to the farmhouse, the original home of the owners, where the leadership had their quarters. There, the three strange figures were greeted with greater warmth than he ever had been, despite the early hour.
“I need to speak to Mrs Wu and the others. There are things afoot they need to know,” the voice that had spooked Jason first demanded, their voice still completely calm and casual. As if they weren’t barging in in the middle of the night.
“Do they need to be woken, or would you prefer a place to rest for the night?” Martha, one of the inner guards asked, looking at the two people and their massive hound with unconcealed respect.
“The morrow will do. We shall rest in the cellar, I remember the place. Some food would be appreciated,” Jade replied, sounding completely controlled and in charge. Not like she was barging in and simply making herself at home.
Jason could only look on in awe, as those three walked into the centre of their small community and for once, he felt the urge to get stronger. Strong and powerful enough that people would treat him like this.
Comments
Plaguehunter
My brain automatically shifted accents the moment the Attenborough quote happened, and Jason's a dumbass thinking they should only get in trouble for lazing about on guard duty after someone dies.
