As I sat at the table with Rachel, bolstered by my new-found skills, a wave of relief came over me.

  “It sounds dumb, but it’s nice to have someone to talk to,” I said.

  Rachel smiled and nodded. “It’s always nice to feel like you’re not alone.”

  She seemed to get a little embarrassed and averted her eyes.

  “Okay, we need to talk about your gear,” Rachel blurted out, changing topics.

  “What about it?” I asked.

  “What do you use to protect yourself?” she asked. “Because when I found you, you were stuck in that ute, fumbling with a revolver.”

  “I actually only picked that up this morning. For crowds I’d been running them over, pretty much, and for smaller encounters I’ve been using my crowbar,” I answered.

  “Right. Well I’d say that maybe we need to sort out your skills. You said you liked archery right? Did that get imported just now?” she asked.

  “Yep, it went up to seven boxes,” I said.

  “And what about the other combat styles? How many levels do you have in those so far?” Rachel enquired.

  “I can’t remember exactly, but I think we had one full box in rope, two in hand-to-hand and about one in long blunt now,” I answered.

  “Okay, rope, that’s interesting!” she said.

  “Yeah, that was added when Rat joined the team. I’m not even sure what rope-fighting is!” I laughed.

  “Lassos and whips, pretty much,” Rachel answered.

  “Kinky,” I joked.

  “So I think to best utilise your skills, we’ll need to get you a bow and some arrows. Seven boxes would be the equivalent of a professional archer – maybe not exactly Olympic-winning, but definitely a teacher. So you’d be missing out if you didn’t get a bow, at least for long-range attacks,” Rachel said. “You should probably keep your crowbar too, or get an axe or a sword for close-up fighting.”

  “That sounds reasonable. But where can I find a bow? It’s not exactly like there is an archery range on every corner,” I said.

  “How would you feel about going on a little trip?” Rachel asked.

  I raised my eyebrow sceptically. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Up north about half an hour is a huge industrial complex with warehouses stocked to the brim with everything we’d need,” she said.

  “Great!” I said. “So should we leave the animals safe at home here and head up there?”

  “Yeah, not exactly. Unless you have a safe house established, you go everywhere with every member of your team,” Rachel explained. “So unless you want to commit to this house forever, we will have to bring them with us.”

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  “Surely there’s somewhere a bit further out, like a farm or an island? Something a bit more peaceful and less suburban?” I said.

  “There should be.” Rachel spluttered to a stop, bringing out a handkerchief and covering her mouth as she coughed. She swiftly pocketed the hanky, obviously trying to hide the blood she had just expelled.

  “Oh my god!” I exclaimed upon seeing it. “Are you okay? I didn’t accidentally shoot you, did I?!”

  Rachel cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “I think you’ll find you didn’t shoot anything,” she said, motioning to my revolver.

  I pulled out the gun, checking the cylinder, and, as she said, I still had the three bullets left. “Well if I didn’t shoot you, what’s wrong? Why are you coughing up blood?” I persisted.

  “Well, you see…” she began. “Back when I was alive, I was very sick. That’s why I decided to work for Stygian Synapses. I wanted to get on this program and at least have an afterlife of fun and enjoyment.”

  Rachel paused, sighing deeply. “But unfortunately it seems when my consciousness was put in here, my illness was too.”

  “What? Why on earth would they allow you to keep being sick after you died? Did you want to keep it?” I asked.

  “No, of course I didn’t want to keep it,” Rachel responded. “I’m not exactly sure – being dead, it’s a bit hard to check after all, but I suspect that was Darren’s doing.”

  “Did you reject him too?” I asked.

  “No, he didn’t even bother asking me. I found him watching you in this game and I tried to tell Dr Paisley. I know he knew I had been spying on him and he threatened to make my life hell. Turns out he just made my afterlife hell instead.”

  Rage filled my mind. I couldn’t believe that loser had wrecked not only my afterlife, but Rachel’s too. “Is there any way we can cure your illness?” I asked, almost shaking with anger.

  “I just have to keep on top of it,” Rachel answered. Hopefully in time I can get some good first-aid skills going and it should be okay.”

  “Oh, I’ve got a book on that!” I said enthusiastically. “Let me do a medical check and I’ll see if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  It would seem ‘medical check’ was the magic term, as I was back in the menu I’d seen once before.

  This time, instead of Rat, Rachel’s profile showed up: Rachel George – Typist – 21 – 79% health.

  I hovered my hand over the health section and a pop-up overlaid the text. Administer medication? Yes or No. I clicked ’Yes’, but knowing I only had blood-pressure tablets in my bag, I was unsure how exactly it would help. 86% health. Can I just keep doing this? I once again reached up to the health portion, but this time the pop-up asked if I wanted to administer a bandage. I hit ‘no’ and closed out of the menu.

  “How do you feel now?” I asked Rachel.

  “I actually feel a bit better,” she replied. “What did you do?”

  “There was an option to give you medication, so I did. I only have blood-pressure medicine I found, but it seems like it helped.”

  Rachel looked surprised. “Do you know how rare that medicine is in this game?” she said. “I’ve got Goodpasture Syndrome and that is pretty much the only thing that will help me in here.”

  “Sorry to ask, but what’s Goodpasture Syndrome?” I asked, embarrassed by my ignorance.

  “It’s a disease where my body makes antibodies to attack my own lungs and kidneys,” she answered. “It’s a bit of a pest.”

  “Understatement of the year!” I said. “And you had this back when you were alive too? Is that why you… died?” I asked sheepishly.

  “Sadly yes, and possibly. As with most things, it was heightened by stress. A couple of days ago, I left work early after Darren threatened me, and when I got home I must have just carked it. But I don’t really know,” Rachel said nonchalantly for someone speaking about their own demise.

  “Thankfully, because I was so sick, I was backing up my consciousness daily, so I don’t think I missed much between then and now,” she said.

  “I’m so sorry, Rachel,” I said. “What an absolute cretin!”

  “It is what it is,” Rachel retorted stoically.

  “Well, you know what? The best revenge is living well. Well, I guess dying well in our case. Let’s stick it to that idiot!” I said. “And I guess that means we’ll need to keep you as healthy as we can – so, warehouses, here we come!”

  Rachel smiled. I reached out my hand to shake hers.

  “What do you say? Partners?”