It got to a point where camping was inevitable.

  All of them moved downstairs, where Clay could sit in a booth and keep his wounded leg elevated on the seat opposite him.

  Cynthia was sitting at the bar with Alan while she spoke. If Clay had messed up as badly as she had, he didn't think he'd have it in him to talk at all, but she'd probably said more words in the last hour than he had since he arrived in this world.

  "Probably what happened was that the crossbow malfunctioned. You guys can't be mad at me if I had a little mishap, right? You're gonna kill me over an accident? Feels a little much, yeah?"

  Her voice was making his leg ache. Clay didn't bother hiding his bitter expression as he did his best to ignore her.

  At least she wasn't slurring as much now.

  "Ain't nobody said anything about killin' you, little lady," Alan corrected.

  "You didn't say anything about letting me go either. Plus you took my crossbow, which definitely feels like something someone would do if they were planning on killing me. The last time a guy took away my crossbow, he told me I was going to die."

  "I took away your crossbow so you wouldn't shoot me like you did the kid!"

  "Oh my god, are you still on that? How many times does a girl have to say sorry before the past gets to be the past?"

  "I dunno!" Alan spun in his chair to call out to Clay. "Hey, how many times she gotta say sorry before we let her off?"

  Clay didn't look over. "I'd honestly just prefer if she stopped talking."

  "Woo-boy!" Alan turned back around. "He's pissed! You're better off just keepin’ quiet until mornin’, then we can go our separate ways!"

  "Honestly? I think the blame kinda goes both ways here!"

  Clay finally, slowly looked over at her.

  "You totally scared me,” she added, “and also I'm in an unfamiliar environment! I'm not from around here and I thought I'd be alone all night!"

  "I. Lowered. My. Gun!"

  "You lowered your gun?" Alan asked. "Feels like a bonehead move."

  Cynthia latched on. "That's what I said!"

  "I could've shot you while you were grabbing your crossbow," Clay spat, "but I didn’t because I thought that would show you I didn't mean you any harm!"

  The expression on Alan's face was making him even angrier. "She was goin’ for a weapon and you didn't shoot her? That's even worse!"

  "Yeah! You have nobody to blame but yourself! You should have just shot me, stupid!"

  Never say never…

  "Don't go antagonizin’ him now. That kid practically saved your life. Me? I'd have shot ya' the second you went for your crossbow."

  "I thought you were on my side!" She complained.

  "Alright, you need to get outta my face and go sleep this one off." Alan pointed to the door behind the bar he'd emerged from with the case of whiskey. "We'll talk about what's gonna happen in the mornin’."

  "Nuh-uh! You think I'm gonna crawl in there and pass out drunk? I'm thinking you wouldn't be far behind!"

  "I'm married. I'm also pretty sure there's a lock on the door, so you won't have to worry about Uncle Alan doin' anything untoward." He grinned. "You'd have nothin' to worry about in any case. You ain't got enough meat on your bones for a guy like me."

  "Oh my god! Fucking! Bye!" She hopped over the counter and walked into the backroom.

  Click.

  Alan spun around again. "How you doin' over there, kid?"

  "You know how it's hard to sleep even if you get a tiny burn on your finger or something?"

  "Sure?"

  "Well, this is a million times worse. There's no way I can sleep like this…" Clay rubbed his face with his hands. "But I'm also really tired. This is the worst feeling in the world."

  "Sounds pretty bad." Alan moved from the bar to the seat Clay's leg was resting on, giving the toe of his shoe a reassuring pat. "I guess the least I can do is stay up with you until I can't keep my eyes open no more. Once we get back home, I'll let you have one of Milly's painkillers."

  "That'd probably help a lot." Clay tried to smile, but the pain made it too uneasy to come off the way he wanted. "Thanks, Alan."

  "Ain't nothin'!"

  A lot of the night was spent talking about whatever they could come up with: future plans to meet with Radman, talks about the neighbors, and discussions of energy rations.

  During the month following Clay's recovery, they'd gotten Radman enough spare parts for him to hook up a few solar panels (of the ones he already had) into their building's power supply.

  The parts they'd collected were mostly so he could install a system allowing Alan to limit how much power each apartment would receive through a series of dials salvaged from ovens of differing ages and models. The system itself was a big iron box attached to a wall in Alan and Milly's bedroom.

  Of course, this meant that everyone had to be let in on the fact that they'd been in contact with Radman and that this contact was the main reason everyone had to deal with the asshole patrol, and why Milly and Calvin were injured.

  Calvin was the only one who threw any sort of fit about it. Everyone else's concerns were abated when Alan brought up the idea of having power again.

  "Why wasn't I brought in on all this?" Calvin had demanded, his new eyepatch lending a lot of credence to his concerns.

  "Please, don't speak so loudly, Cal." Milly rubbed her head against any developing pain. "It was all for the sake of your safety. There was no way for us to know things would go so far. I'll make sure you get extra power rations."

  "Ah, sorry. I understand, Milly."

  As always, he'd been weak to her charms. Not only that, but she also hadn't gotten away clean from the conflict.

  She suffered from chronic headaches that could only be abated by taking medication. There were times when she'd have to stop whatever she was doing to sit down, even go to bed early if it was bad enough.

  This was in addition to the mental turmoil of almost having her daughter kidnapped.

  In this instance, suffering was a contest that she won hard enough that people had to accept the situation when she said, "It's fine. It could have gone much worse."

  They all had guns in case another incident took place. That would have to be enough for them.

  And so there was another type of ration they had to hand out: energy rations.

  While there were just about enough solar panels to go around, the number of batteries for actual energy storage wasn't as numerous.

  The batteries weren't as portable as the solar panels either, which he could easily fold up and move without concern. So he had to either find batteries (meaning Clay and Alan had to find batteries) to modify or make them from scratch himself. Either way, it would take a while.

  A man barely out of college who was smart enough to make easily portable solar panels that were more efficient than the ones they had orbiting Earth? It was that unrealistic level of intelligence that reminded Clay he couldn't take things at face value here.

  In any case, after using a fair amount of power for electric heaters, the remainder had to be divided evenly so that nobody felt cheated.

  The sound outside gave Alan the confidence to whistle after getting another look at Clay’s leg. "Looks like you'll get to be takin' a load off for a little while, genius."

  "Believe me, I'm not happy about it. This cycle of being able to do things with occasional ass-beating induced vacations just gets me even more stressed out."

  "Haha! We haven't missed a day since your last ass-beating, so I was thinkin' a few days off for the jolly season would be a good idea. Maybe you can watch some more movies with Howie and Bell in the meantime. "

  It was mainly what Howard and Bell used their energy rations for.

  It'd been so long since people could watch movies that Howard hosted building-wide movie nights where everyone was invited to watch with him and Bell if they wanted. Interested in what movies in another world looked like, Clay actually went to one of these gatherings and spent most of the time having to put up with Howard's eccentricities.

  "Ooh! Ooh! This is my favorite part! Fuck yeah!"

  "Did you know the guy who directed this movie also…"

  "I actually met the guy in the fish costume at a convention once. You wouldn't think it, but he's kind of a dick."

  I'm a first-time viewer! Shut the fuck up!

  Of course, the movie he was showing off was a classic that everyone in this world oughta have seen at least once. It probably wouldn't have given the game away, just like he wouldn’t immediately assume someone who hadn't seen Star Wars was from another universe, but he didn't want to have another thing making him stand out.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  He excused himself from future showings and decided he'd partake in that sort of media when power was plentiful enough for him to have his own TV and DVD player.

  "No, thanks."

  Eventually, Alan slipped into a booth farther along the wall to 'rest his eyes'.

  Clay spent the rest of the night whispering to Kissy, who he'd placed on the table, still bundled up in his beanie.

  "This is what I get for not immediately shooting people on sight. Shit, I'm so pissed off…No good deed goes unpunished, Kissy."

  Kissy listened silently.

  He spoke to her like this sometimes when his stress reached a certain peak. He'd vent about his feelings, complain about awkward encounters, and sometimes tell stories about his past.

  Clay always felt a little bad about it because she was a rat that couldn't speak back to him or give him any real advice. He knew he was just unloading on her, but she had plenty of ways, including her teeth, to voice her complaints if she felt he was going on too long.

  She never did that, though. The only thing he could think of that she did that gave him the barest impression that he was rambling was that she'd sometimes fall asleep while he was talking.

  The same thing happened tonight, but he continued just talking to himself.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  "I'm so, so sorry!"

  With most of the alcohol out of her system, Cynthia was a lot more bearable to talk to.

  "I become a total idiot when I've had too much to drink and I didn't expect I'd have to talk to anyone! The truth is that my finger slipped! I was just so scared and saying whatever I could to push the blame away from me!" She was speaking clearly, a major change from her slurring cattiness. "You put your gun down the moment you saw me and I shot you! If I'd been aiming as well as I usually do, you could have died! There's no excuse! I can't apologize enough!"

  Alan was standing behind her, yawning and wiping the sleep from his eyes. He was wearing two Drinker's Delight hats now.

  Meanwhile, Clay was dead tired and still in enough pain that he couldn't properly sleep.

  Yet he found it hard to keep up the aggressiveness from last night. He was weak to proper apologies.

  "I'm still peeved, but I already guessed it was an accident." Clay started standing up from the booth. "It's not like we're going to kill you or anything, so relax."

  "I'm not worried about you guys killing me! If you wanted to, you could have done that already!" She moved in to help him up, but he raised a hand to stop her. "I just feel really bad. If there's anything I can do to make up for it, just let me know…except the first thing you probably thought of after I said that."

  "I wasn't thinking of that at all."

  "Then how do you know what I was referring to?"

  "…"

  I wasn't going to ask for it, but of course something like that would pop into my head when you pull out a line like 'I'll do anything'!

  "I know the first thing that popped into my head!" Alan brushed past her and moved in for support. He had Clay's arm slung over his shoulders before he could make any moves to stop him. "The storm's passed and the sun's up, so I'm takin' purple heart over here home. If you wanna do him a solid, you can carry the totes we came in with."

  "Oh, I can do--!"

  "And the case of whiskey!"

  "…Sir, all due respect, but I'm only so strong."

  "You can take breaks. Plus there's only gonna be 6 bottles' worth of weight in there."

  Watching her lift everything on her own actually made Clay feel sorry for her, but she was getting off easy in comparison to his own first meeting with Alan.

  Luckily for her, the pace Alan was forced to move at while helping Clay walk was slow enough that there was never any worry of being rushed or left behind.

  >ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! [PARTY TIME!]

  ---------------------------------------------------------

  [PARTY TIME!] (+1 Spin on the Wheel of Welter)

  Form a party of 4 (including yourself)!

  ---------------------------------------------------------

  A party of four?

  I count three.

  There was a rustling in his pockets as Kissy adjusted herself.

  Right, my bad.

  Damn it, this woman could make herself into an inconvenience even when she's being as nice as possible. He wanted to hurry up and spin the wheel right now, but Alan had been able to see when he received something physical from it. Clay couldn't risk a stranger seeing that.

  The stranger tried to make conversation.

  "I'm just amazed that I found normal people around here…" At least she wasn’t being as loud as before. "How come this city is so empty? I mean, not empty, but…"

  "I knew what you meant," Alan said. "It's a long story I'd like to get into after I've had a chance to lay in my bed. All you need to know is some loser came through here a while ago and tricked everyone in the city he could into joinin’ his little group."

  "I think that pretty much explains everything, actually. Thank you!"

  "Mhm…"

  Cynthia was a good sport about everything…for the first little while.

  "We ain't takin' another break," Alan informed without looking at her, meaning only Clay caught the malicious grin on his face. "I wanna hurry up and get my boy off his feet."

  "My arms are tired! Just let me rest a little longer!" Cynthia complained, sounding a lot closer to that first impression of her.

  "How old are 'ya, kid?"

  "Uh, twenty? What's that got to do with--?"

  "Then it's ten years too late for you to complain when an adult gives you a chore to do."

  "I'm an adult, too!" She thought for a second, then added, "Wait, you'd expect a ten-year-old to carry all this stuff!?"

  "Nah, I'd just expect them not to complain about it."

  Clay would have had some things to say if he were on the other side of that troll-logic, but he felt perfectly comfortable grinning alongside him.

  This must be what being in the upper echelon of a fraternity felt like.

  Take your lumps, freshie.

  Her reprieve came when they got to the fire escape. She collapsed against the railing and let out a deep breath.

  "Made it…"

  "Now we just got to get it all to the sixth floor!"

  "Goddamn it…"

  Even if she hadn't been very graceful about it, Cynthia helped them get everything back home like she said she would. Her dedication (and a painkiller) went a long way to soften his feelings toward her.

  Alan must have felt the way, because he stopped picking on her as much after they got back. She was even invited to stay for dinner.

  Milly had the situation explained to her and spent a lot of the time just making sure Clay was alright.

  "Are you sure Al properly disinfected it? What is it he used? Whiskey?" She asked while switching Alan's makeshift bandages out for proper ones. "I don't think that's as good as proper disinfectant. I don't think it's even as good as other types of alcohol."

  "It's all he had, unfortunately…" Clay responded drowsily. Without that pain keeping him awake, he just wanted the day over and done with. "I'll probably be okay. One of my, uh….One of my Skills makes me more resistant to infection…"

  "Whiskey also doesn't have numbing properties, so I can only imagine how much that must have hurt."

  Clay nodded slowly. "Mhmm…"

  "Oh, you probably want to try and get some sleep!" Milly said loud enough to make herself wince. "Mnhh…Sorry for keeping you up."

  "S'okay…"

  Milly made sure the bandage was tightened properly and patted him on the shoulder. "I'll come to check on you in a bit. I'd like to try and force you to eat something first, but it looks like you're barely keeping your eyes open."

  He wasn't even doing that anymore.

  As she left the room, he heard her talking to Alan before the door closed. "That boy just can't keep himself out of trouble, can he?"

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  There'd been a discussion while he was asleep.

  He found out from Milly when she was bringing him food that Cynthia was a drifter who was passing through the city on her way to meet with family. After having to put up with the weather for a while, she'd already thought it would be nice to have a place she could chill out until the worst of it came and went.

  Given Clay was the one she injured, Milly wanted to check with him to make sure he was even comfortable with her sticking around.

  He didn't care that much either way, but just that Milly was even asking…

  I'm Team Milly, no matter what may come!

  "It's fine if she stays," Clay said humbly. "I'm already over it."

  "Really? If you're even a little uncomfortable, you should--"

  "It's fine, it's fine. Really, I'm cool with it."

  Milly nodded, then gave him a devious look. "Is it because she's pretty?"

  Clay smiled. "Is she? I stopped looking at her too closely after she shot me in the leg with a crossbow."

  Her expression remained, but she let it go.

  "In any case, I want you off that leg for at least a week. Bell said you'd be out of commission for at least three weeks, but you might at least be able to walk around the building after a week." She clapped her hands together. "That means you'll get to take Christmas and New Year's off. Aren't you excited?"

  Clay grumbled, "At this rate, the total amount of time I've spent doing nothing is going to overtake the days I've actually worked…"

  Back in his old life, such a thing wouldn't have bothered him so much. He'd lived to avoid work. However, each day he spent not going out with Alan and killing zombies was now one day not gathering XP and getting stronger.

  It was also one day where he wouldn't be able to gather Crowder heads for Radman.

  The thought made him try moving his leg.

  Strangely, it didn't hurt as much as it did before. It wasn't even close.

  He drifted towards the opposite side of the bed and tried standing up.

  "Hey, didn't you hear what I just said?" Milly rubbed her head. "Oh, don't make me raise my voice, Clay."

  Once he got to his feet and stood normally, he found that while it wasn't comfortable, it wasn't totally unbearable either.

  "I'm still sore, but I already feel like I can walk around again. The main thing still bothering me is this throbbing feeling from getting burned."

  Milly stared in awe at Clay's speedy recovery, moving her hair away from her eyes as if that would change what she saw. "If you don't constantly remind me, I forget that you have your V-Man thing going on. Is this another of those Skills making you heal faster?"

  "I don't think so…"

  None of his Skills did anything for healing. No, if anything, this was because the initial damage he took wasn't as bad as it should have been. Between his Health taking the brunt of the damage and his increased Resilience (even if only slightly), just one arrow didn't have what it took to put him down for long.

  Just the one, though. Clay suspected it would be a very different story if he'd been shot even one more time.

  And even with this stroke of fortune, he'd still be out for a few days at the very least.

  Milly practically forced him back into bed.

  "You shouldn't feel the need to rush these things, honey. You've been going out every day for the last month." She rubbed his back. "It's okay to settle down every once in a while, especially when you're hurt. You don't have to worry about supplies or anything either."

  Clay's eyebrows lifted on their own. "Is Alan going to do solo trips again?"

  "Never. After everything that happened, I don't think I'd be comfortable with it anymore." Milly shook her head. "No, this is how that Cynthia girl is going to pay for her stay here."

  Clay hanged his head.

  "I'm being replaced with a younger, newer model…" he said overdramatically.

  "Just for now." She laughed. "We've had similar arrangements with other drifters before you came along. It'll probably be the three of you in no time from the sounds of it."

  "I'm just kidding around. Obviously, it's fine. I'm more worried about not gaining any experience points in the meantime." His eyes slid to the side. "There's also meeting with Radman. I have a feeling she's not involved with that stuff, but we can't be too careful."

  "Nothing's more important than your health at the end of the day, but I do agree that limiting Di--Rad…Richard's exposure is for the best."

  Clay picked Kissy up from where she'd been sleeping in his beanie at the foot of his bed. "I'll work out something specific with Alan later, but right now I'm thinking that either there'll have to be days where she doesn't come with us, or I can have Kissy take a message to Radman so he's aware of the situation. If we want to make her help us get more heads without them meeting, we can set up a place for us to leave them that Radman can pick up from later."

  Clay talked to Milly for a little longer about possible spots, but then he remembered something.

  "The Achievement!"

  "The what?"

  Clay sat up a little straighter and opened his window. Next to the Achievement section of his stat page was a little icon of a roulette wheel with a small 1 next to it.

  "I don't know if me or Alan ever told you about this, but I got to spin a wheel when I leveled up." Clay tapped the icon. "Alan saw a cool light show, so maybe I'll get to do the same for you."

  "Al did mention something like that." Milly leaned in like she was checking what her child was doing on their phone. "That's so exciting! Did you level up again?"

  "I got this spin as a reward for traveling in a party of four."

  "Hm? I counted three of you."

  Squeak!

  "Oh, my mistake. Sorry, Kissy."

  The last time he spun the wheel, he got the DG Mystery Box. Recently, that box's tier changed when he wasn't looking.

  >[Mystery Box - Type DG]

  >Current Tier: Uncommon

  It still wasn't worth opening, as far as he knew, but it was good to keep track of these things.

  What would come out this time?

  >Will you spin the wheel?

  >Yes

  The window slid backwards away from him until it had enough room to expand and contract into a circle in front of his bed. When he looked up at it, Milly awkwardly tilted her head up to look as well, even though she couldn't actually see anything.

  >[The Wheel of Welter] spins for you!

  >(Luck) bonuses are disabled before the power of the Wheel…