I flipped the heavy lid of the treasure chest, which fell back to reveal… an empty inside. Instead, a System screen popped up, showing the loot within. The abstract nature was briefly underwhelming, but I raised an eyebrow at what had appeared.

  [350 Gold]

  [Rare Weapon Upgrade Stone]

  [Uncommon Skillbook (2)]

  [Solar Shard (5)]

  [Medical Crate (3)]

  “Damn.” I looked down at the dog, who was just sitting there looking back at me expectantly. Probably still after food, since he discarded his sausage.

  I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but for zero effort… the items in the treasure chest seemed reasonable. Richard was supposed to be pointing me toward a shop soon, so the extra gold might be lifesaving… if I could get my hands on something to remove the zombie curse.

  In fact, that thought stuck in my mind as I looked at the medical crates within my Inventory. As expected, they contained a random selection of items designed to keep me alive and healthy. With some brief hope in my heart, I opened all three at once.

  [Health Potion (5)]

  [Bandage (10)]

  [Half Restore (2)]

  [Full Restore (2)]

  [Antidote (3)]

  [Regeneration Potion (1)]

  I was left disappointed. The only new item was the regen potion, which acted like a bandage that lasted ten minutes. Could stack them together, though. The only plus side to my new haul is that the rewards were meant to be shared between a small group. By going solo, I had a hoard of healing items that I needn’t be so thrifty with. If I viewed each restorative item as a certain number of kills, I was set for a few mass-murders.

  Nothing for curing bruises and aches, though. At this point, I’d murder for some basic paracetamol. Maybe some alcohol to take the edge off.

  I now also had enough of these solar shards to get a blessing. While I grimaced, I formed a new consumable from ten of the looted items.

  [Blessing of the Sun]

  [Grants +1 to three random skills]

  Not bad, actually. I withdrew it into my hand. It was a sphere of golden and amber light, swirling around much like the sun itself. The orb hovered over my hand slightly, and the dog stretched out, his tail wagging as if I was going to throw it like a ball to fetch.

  I put it back into my Inventory.

  Being solo didn’t mean being dense and selfish. I could imagine using it and only my most niche skills getting the bonus. When I had gotten the all clear from Bernie, I would ask him how many abilities he had. If I could get his scouting upgraded easily, then that would increase my effectiveness in leveling and finding useful things out in the desert.

  'Fartbag' whined.

  “Alright, bud. Let’s head to the motel while I go through the rest of this crap. I’ll give you more food there.”

  After deciding to possibly give Bernie the blessing, I did start to wonder how much of the other spoils I should share. A stone to make a Rare weapon, and two skillbooks. Giving them all to the waitress would give her a step up in surviving and getting through the first few levels quicker. Maybe Bernie could make use of them once it was time for us to move from the bunker.

  I put that as something to think over while we walked. It was in my nature to take them for myself. I needed to be powerful to survive. The group hidden away was a thorn, biting in under one of my nails. As much as I wanted to ignore them, I needed to take some responsibility. Even if only to avoid more guilt weighing on my mind.

  The dog kept up with me, as if we had known each other forever. My brief charity had been enough for him to see me as a friend. I took my shirt off into my Inventory and told the System to fix it for me. My undershirt was in quite the state itself, but my skill only worked on magic items so far.

  It was only two minutes of striding through the arid desert before the next faux dune revealed the motel ahead.

  More basic in design than I had expected, but perhaps there wasn’t such a big need for accommodation this close to the city. We were looking down on the back of it, but from here it appeared to be a single story. A long row of rooms going out to our left, while a bigger block on the right side was probably the reception and whatever facilities they provided.

  As far as I could tell, it looked quiet. Abandoned. I gave the dog a glance, but there were no thoughts going on behind his big eyes. “Keep on guard,” I told him. “A little paranoia is a good thing.”

  He wagged his tail, which I took to mean that he understood. How convenient.

  I brought out my magic hammer, as Threadcutter was a little cumbersome to stroll around with. Approaching the motel felt… eerie. More apocalyptic than even the diner, as that at least had activity around it. Richard said that populated areas would have greater monster spawns, so for the motel to report no detailed information to Bernie could only mean a couple of things… none of which I liked the idea of.

  Plus, the fact that I hadn’t had a follow-up message from him about the waitress was concerning. The STAR process was only a couple of minutes at most. Worry creeped in at the edges of my mind, but I shook it away.

  I could see the parking area of the motel now, and there were three vehicles present. Two of them looked like they’d immediately cry if they touched the sandy desert, too well-designed for cruising the suburbs, while the third was a pickup that appeared to have rolled in straight from a scrapyard. Scratched to shit, with cracked windows and long-aged dirt caked around the wheel arches. Despite the apocalypse hitting yesterday, all three were swept with sand as if they had been sitting for weeks.

  It was still too quiet.

  I rolled my tongue around my teeth and gripped the hammer tighter as we came up to the side of the building. Windows had slatted blinds covering them, the dirt and dust telling me they weren’t often opened. A glance at my canine companion, and he seemed nonplussed. Perhaps it was a bit much for me to expect him to pick up the scent of monsters or other people around, but I’d grasp at whatever straws were presented.

  We edged around the corner to the front. A sign out near the road, half collapsed, read ‘Norris Motel’. I paused for a moment to check for any signs of life. No. Still quiet.

  “Don’t go wandering now,” I murmured.

  Cautiously, I led us around to the front to where the reception entrance was. I could see the row of rooms now, and each of them looked as devoid of use as the next. No lights left on. All the doors looked closed from this position. No signs of fighting or destruction. The knot in my stomach tightened a little more.

  I looked through the glass door, and the small office looked clear. Cluttered as fuck - the owner was clearly a hoarder and a smoker, if the discolored and peeling wallpaper was anything to go by. Gently, I pushed the door open, allowing the dog to trot in first. I followed suit, my eyes burning as I tried to scour every potential inch of the place to find something wrong with it. Danger lurking.

  But nothing was that out of place. I’d seen enough normal decay to know that this was just how it looked on a day-to-day basis. My eyes switched to the wooden board behind the main desk, where keys hung. A little archaic and unsafe for modern times, but I could see that three rooms had already been taken. That checked out with the number of vehicles outside, although it didn’t look like they were active.

  I also wasn’t about to go knocking door to door to see if they were just hiding away. There were enough wayward sheep looking to me for guidance, and I was worried about what I’d find if not healthy and scared people.

  While the dog sniffed at the edges of the walls, I walked around the desk and grabbed the key for room number two. Not too far from the exit, and nowhere near the allegedly occupied units.

  “C’mon, bud.” I gestured to the side door that lead to the pathway. “Time for you to eat like a prince.”

  He followed on as we stepped out. There were other doorways here, leading to a rec room, which also had a storage room further in. Probably a kitchen back there, if I could judge anything by the glance through the window at the top of the door. Empty as well, so I turned to continue down the path. There was a film of sand across it, the movements of the desert shifting causing everything to look more aged than it was.

  The silence was agony. I kept an eye up and down the other rooms as I put the key in the lock and turned it. Hammer in hand, I stepped into the bedroom. The air smelled of dust and mildew. I glanced between the television - a decade out of date - and the worn double bed that needed the sheets changing. Perhaps staying here for the night was a terrible idea. I erased it from my checklist.

  I let the dog follow in before I shut the door and locked it from the inside. From my Inventory, I took out my spare shirt and put it on the bed, before placing down a metal container on the floor.

  “Don’t make yourself sick like a dumbass, okay?” I emptied out a healthy amount of the diner food that would probably otherwise go to waste. “You’re in charge while I go wash up.”

  He was like a magnet to the provided meat, chomping through it before I could even give him the instructions he’d ignore. It made me feel a little better, though.

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  Shaking my head at the little glutton, I went to the bathroom. A drab affair that looked like it hadn’t seen a good clean… ever. Something from a murder movie. I flicked the light switch, but it didn’t do anything. Power was out. Hopefully the water was still okay, otherwise this journey had been a waste of energy.

  I stepped up to the sink, the small obscured window to the side giving barely enough light for me to see until my eyes adjusted properly. With a turn, the faucet sprayed out water. Surprisingly clean, given the state of the rest of the place. I turned it back off and avoided looking in the mirror of the cabinet, instead just opening it to see what was inside.

  A pair of small and half-empty bottles of shampoo and conditioner. As in, actual bottles with those words written on them. Beggars couldn’t be choosers at this stage. A pack of painkillers that were… out of date by a few months. Probably still good. Two razors that had long corroded over. Lastly, possibly the cheapest looking packet of condoms I’d ever seen.

  I picked up the painkillers and, after some hesitation, put them into my Inventory with no issue.

  Fuck.

  Thoughts swirled around in my head, but I couldn’t make sense of them. After the day I’d had… I was pretty spent. This small glimmer of normality was disarming, and I felt the exhaustion and worry eroding all the walls I had put up.

  I shook my head clear and looked over at the pup scarfing down the food. Exhaling through my nose, I pushed the bathroom door closed and locked it. A simple bolt that anyone with a boot and a little effort could breach. Still, two layers of defense and an early warning system. That might be enough.

  System had just finished fixing up my shirt, so I told it to do my slacks next. After they vanished from my legs, I stepped over to the bath and turned the taps on. The showerhead vibrated slightly before spraying forth water. Part of me relaxed, the sound comforting. I eyed up the door one last time before stripping down.

  I grabbed the bottles from the cabinet and put them on the side of the bath. My body was sweaty, grimy, and covered in bruises. Gore still matted my hair. I felt half dead, which was ironic, given the curse I bore. Hand felt under the spray of water, and it was warm. Thank fuck - they had a working boiler still.

  Stepping into it was the best feeling. An immediate ascension to heaven. I brought in my non magical clothing to stomp some of the blood from them as I washed off. The water ran red and dark brown as the various patches of dirt came free. Shampoo and conditioner applied, the smell of coconut filled the room as it steamed up.

  Magical. I could have spent hours under the warmth, were it not for the threat of night looming closer. With a sigh, I left the shower and turned off the taps. Wrung the clothes out and put them in my Inventory wet. I went to put the bottles back in the cabinet before deciding I’d keep them, too. As I pushed the mirror front closed, I looked at myself for the first time.

  Bruising ran up most of my side, and there were a few lines of fresh scars where I’d healed from my recent wounds. Even with a fresh clean, I still looked a little rough around the edges. Felt a lot more like myself, though. I raised my arms and turned to see how my back looked, but it was more of the same.

  I sighed at the irony that it was in the apocalypse I was more likely to get a regular healthy diet. What lean muscle I had worked up over the years had slowly been eroding away with how little I ate. Always on the move and broke. I grabbed the rough towel from the back of the door and dried off.

  Spare underclothing went on as the System finished fixing my slacks.

  [Repair Garment 2]

  The upgrade actually increased the number of garment repaired at once to two. I fixed my tie and brushed my hair back as best as I could with my fingers. Why I didn’t have a proper brush, I wasn’t sure. Rolled my sleeves up and straightened up. Not too shabby.

  But also not enough to distract me from the fact that Bernie hadn’t sent me a message about Sally yet. It had been over twenty minutes now, which was… worrying. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to message him. Stupid. It could wait until I got there, surely.

  I unlocked the bathroom and stepped out. Just as I had planned, the satiated dog was now asleep, resting on the shirt I had laid out. More of a cat thing to do, in my opinion, but I figured he might find the smell of me comforting enough to pass out on.

  All I had to do now was abandon him.

  Another twist in my stomach, but it had to be done. I wouldn’t be able to keep him safe and he’d be a hindrance in the future. As I unlocked the door slowly, I kept my eyes on the sleeping pain in the ass. He seemed happy. I’d leave the door ajar slightly so that he could leave when he wanted or… I didn’t know.

  My focus remained on him as I stepped out into the hallway. I sighed, having made my escape. Felt fucking miserable about it - adding that into how I felt about Sally and how my whole day had gone… the orcs could get a pass tonight. I wanted to sleep this bullshit off. Fucking System.

  I stepped cautiously toward the reception room. One last glance around for anything useful, and then I’d-

  “I think you forgot to pay, miss.”

  I froze in place, the voice of a man coming from behind me. One of the occupants?

  “Turn around slowly.”

  My muscles tensed as I rotated gradually. I could understand his apprehension, even if I didn’t appreciate it. World had gone to shit. Monsters sprouting up out of nowhere. I’d be paranoid too. Was paranoid.

  The man looked middle-aged. Stout frame, partially bald, but with a long handlebar mustache. Dirty hawaiian shirt over an even filthier wife-beater. More menacing than the look in his eyes was the weapon he held. A thick chain, with a barbed meat hook on one end. That must mean he found another bunker. Probably the owner of the motel, if I had to guess.

  “I’m not sure money has much worth these days, I’m afraid,” I replied.

  His eyes read me up and down, but the way they lingered in certain places told me he preferred pictures to words. “Perhaps we can come to some other arrangement? Service for service.” He gestured with his head to the room beside us.

  My jaw clenched. “No chance, bud.”

  I had met plenty of seedy douchebags in my time. There was a difference between bloodying someone’s nose and murdering them, though. The System may have turned me into the slaughterer of monsters, but I wasn’t keen to dip my toes into erasing other survivors with such ease and lack of care.

  “Shame.” He grinned humorlessly. “Perhaps just hand over any rare items and gold, then? Or the location of your bunker.”

  My hands balled into fists. “Leave me be. Final warning.”

  His mouth twisted into a sneer. “Wrong answer.”

  I brought Threadcutter into my hands to defend myself, but his weapon lashed out unnaturally quick. The hook dashed through the space between us and cut straight through my bracer, burying itself into my left forearm.

  My axe slipped from my grip as a sharp pain flashed through my body. He tried to reel me in like a fish, but I wasn’t going to allow that. Against my own best interests, I twisted and pulled my arm free from the hook, allowing the bloodied end to clatter to the floor.

  The damage it had wrought was…

  Shock had me dissociated from it all, almost instantly. Blood poured from the wound, running down my arm like small rivers, arteries splayed out and mixing with the shredded fabric of the bracer. Fingers unresponsive, so my tendons were probably shot as well. It was just a mess of split muscle and pain.

  I gathered enough sense to duck and roll from the follow-up swing once the hook had been pulled back in, but there was a problem.

  The shock was an open door for all of the trauma gathered up during the day to flood out. As my arm constantly leaked blood, my mind screamed for me to run. I had finally hit a limit, and self-preservation wanted me out of here. He would kill me if I tried to get closer. I needed to run.

  I obliged, moving up to my feet and down the pathway. Another attack narrowly missed me, striking the wall as I ducked through an unfamiliar door. Blood loss and blind panic had me disorientated. My eyes wavered over several options and I went forward. I needed to heal up.

  Right hand twisted a door handle, and I pushed through into a darkened room. Left hand hung limply as I closed the door and leaned with my back against it. Breathing was haggard, my throat felt constricted. No good going for a potion if I couldn’t get it down. A bandage appeared in my shaking right hand. Fucking focus. Was bleeding so much. Needed to get out of here, while I had a moment.

  But if I had left a trail of blood, then he would-

  The doorway opened up suddenly, pushing me forward and canceling my bandage timer. I twisted to face him as I stumbled away and hit the back of my head on the edge of a rack shelf. Storeroom. My vision went spotty as I fought the urge to pass out.

  The motel owner was there. One hand grabbed me by the neck while the other held my right arm against the shelving unit. A wash of his body odor and cheap whisky filled my senses. My left arm hung limp as my life-force continued to drain away.

  “Thought you’d have more fight in you,” he gloated, his face looming in front of mine. “You must have come from near the diner. I hope those whores are still alive, so I can give them what they deserve as well.”

  Disgust flooded me like a broken dam, erasing the fear and panic. A spark of anger drew up within me, and I tried to push back against him. I was running out of air and blood, but the tank of vitriol was overflowing. Vengeance and rage kept me alert, if only so that I could glare right back at this monster for my last moments on this fucked planet.

  His leering grin turned to a confused frown as a growl came from the doorway.

  “Get the fuck away, mutt.” The man bared his teeth and leaned back to try to shake the dog away. I couldn’t look down, but guessed that his trousers were being pulled on.

  Unfortunately for him, he loosened his grip on my neck in the process. Oxygen rushed into my hungry lungs, fueling the flame within me. As he turned back to look at me having shaken the dog, I lashed forward, head-butting him in the face.

  “Fucking slut,” he hissed, taking a step back, nose running with blood.

  I jabbed out with my fist, and he raised his arms to protect himself. Blocked. He stepped back again, trying to gain some distance to bring out his weapon.

  But his arms fell away as he tripped on the dog nipping at his heels. Wide eyes wide, he flailed out to catch himself, leaving himself open.

  My fist was already drawn all the way back, knuckleduster now on my right hand. With all the anger, frustration, and disgust I could manifest, I put the last of my strength into this one punch.

  It connected before he could even respond. Something in his face broke, and his head flashed backwards, catching on the corner of a washing machine by the door. His body twisted and flopped to the dusty ground like a sack of rocks. Spasming three times before being still, slowly deflating.

  I immediately took a knee beside him and leveled another punch at his head. No response. His eyes were already staring blankly up at the ceiling as a pool of blood ran from the back of his skull.

  My breathing came in pained pulses as I held my fist up, ready to strike him again. Part of me wanted to break his head open like an egg and spread his tasty brains across the floor. I shook my senses clear as the fervor sunk away from my body. Even without the System throwing some dry fanfare, I could tell he was dead.

  Instead of pulping him further, I slid myself into a seated position against another laundry machine. Exhausted. I had killed someone, but he left me with no other option. The Earth was under attack, and assholes like him still couldn’t put aside their issues for the greater good. Motherfucker.

  The dog stood beside me and put his chin on my thigh. Eyes looking up, he whined.

  “You’re right. I need to heal.”

  Despite really needing a nap, I went through the process of applying a bandage over the open wound. My tired eyes dug through my Inventory and I pulled out a Full Restore. Difficult to get—and keep—down, but the healing energy comforted me immediately. I dropped the empty glass bottle to the ground as the bandage did little now but provide occasional ticks of pain relief. After a few seconds of continued pain, I could move my left hand again.

  I brought it up clumsily and put it on the dog’s head. Slowly, I ran my fingers through his fur.

  “Guess we’re even now, huh?”

  He didn’t respond, but continued laying against me with his head in my lap. Well, if he was going to stick around for a while, I’d have to think of a better name for him. It was the least I could do.

  I went to close my eyes, just to get a short amount of rest…

  When a message from Bernie finally came in.