“There is something wonderful about waking up next to a lovely lady.” Matt murmured as the early light woke them the next morning. He received a muffled and sleepy response in the affirmative from the depths of the thick Winter duvet, snuggling in closer to Arlee’s warm body.

  It would have been pleasant to just spend the day like that, but Matt’s bladder was swiftly moving from complaining toward action. Reluctantly disentangling himself, he stumbled through to the bathroom.

  As he flushed the toilet with the now familiar bucket of water, Matt chuckled at the changes to the basic necessities that his patches had enabled. When most survivors would be back to medieval practices, the fortune their group had realised reduced the impact to only an inconvenience.

  With the early Spring chill in the air, the heat patches gave enough warmth to the house to be comfortable with no more than an extra t-shirt. The cold patches let them store food, and the water patches were literally life savers. With society so dependent on modern utilities, and stored supplies most likely exhausted, people would have to find alternate sources like streams and rivers. With the levels of modern pollution and the lack of proper purification processes or equipment, he had no doubt that maybe as many would perish from the lack of clean water as from monster attacks.

  He could do something about that.

  They needed to get rid of their greatest threat, but then he could churn out ‘survival packs’ of patches. The group could share their experiences and lessons, the knowledge gained from both challenges faced and from Kira’s research.

  More and more, Matt wondered about what his old encyclopaedia had become. It had undoubtedly been the largest single impact on their survival, providing actionable information when they needed it most. It had given him a path forward in his weaving, allowing him to turn a hobby into a real point of difference in their survival chances.

  There were no doubt others around the world who had found similar stand-out capabilities in the face of the weirdness. He wondered how many were trying to raise up their neighbours, versus those who would leverage their abilities for advantage over others. The sad truth of modern societies was that there seemed to be more of the latter.

  Matt was determined that he would not follow that mould, that he would use his good fortune to help as many as possible. He wasn’t sure whether what he knew could be taught, or whether it depended on each individual’s connected item? Was that even a consistent for everyone? They had assumed it was, but the sample size they had confirmed it with was less than twenty people.

  He shook himself out of this line of thinking, focusing back on the day at hand. They were meeting at the Brands’ to discuss next steps, so with the early ablutions dealt with, Matt roused the rest of the house’s inhabitants and went downstairs to fix some breakfast.

  Once the family were fed and watered, they hurried across the road to Alan and Carry’s house, waving at Frank, Belinda and the three children as they followed suit. The youngsters were swiftly settled upstairs with some snacks, board games and large, playful cats, while the adults grouped around the kitchen table.

  They were already pretty settled on what they needed to do, this was more about hammering out details. Matt, Frank and Arlee would head to the petrol station to try and secure as much of the flammable liquid as possible. Matt had initially argued against his wife’s involvement, pointing out that Frank’s bike trailer would let them bring back a significant load.

  Arlee decisively broke this argument, demonstrating by dragging the mouth of her bag over one chair after another, swallowing them all before retrieving them one by one. Added to the fact that a loaded trailer would slow them down if they needed to escape from anything, Matt’s protests were swiftly negated.

  As long as this mission was successful, the following day would be spent preparing makeshift Molotov Cocktails, while Matt wove the necessary patches for the group going into the nest. While they had a good selection already, as he demonstrated his latest creations – woven after attuning to his third locus – the group were in full agreement that they could wait another day.

  In the back garden, Matt desperately swung his aluminium tube upwards, as the huge lance of roaring flame erupted across the full width and scorched the opposite fence. The inferno column was about twice as long as his previous attempts and lasted for significantly longer. In the tight confines of the tunnel, this would likely break a pack of rats charging toward them.

  Alan was initially sceptical as Matt asked him to attack with his newly empowered staff. After repeated reassurances though, he swung with a vengeance, wincing at the sting in his hands as the shining field coating Matt’s whole body stopped the strike dead. They could see a noticeable reduction in the intensity of the field though, a reminder that even this new level of armour would not make them invulnerable against sustained attacks.

  Matt also demonstrated the new offensive capability of the armour, dragging sticks across the field and displaying the deep gouges dragged through their surfaces. If the rats got in close, they would not enjoy the results of their bites and claws.

  The group laughed as Matt asked Carry to throw a cup of flour over him, which she obliged after a questioning look. Activating another of his new creations, he ran through the cloud of clinging powder while a bubble of clear air prevented any of it from landing on him. After the naueating experience he and Alan had in their first foray, both had agreed they would need some way to provide breathable air.

  Lastly, Matt showed off the patch which had been the most challenging to create. Spending part of the previous day in the garden, it had taken significantly longer and with intense focus to drag gusts of wind into his weaving, but he was happy with the end result. Standing opposite Alan and bidding his friend to charge forward, the larger man found his momentum completely arrested by a strong gust of wind, emanating out of the patch on Matt’s chest.

  Matt was vaguely aware that it was the fumes coming off petrol which caused the explosions so popular in television, not the petrol itself. If they loaded the nest with petrol and just set it off, they would be toasted alongside the vermin they sought to eradicate. Although this was a very niche situation, this patch might make the difference between life and a horrible roasted death. Pushing the petrol fumes away from them and giving them a chance to escape any resulting explosions was essential.

  Matt didn’t demonstrate the last of his new creations, which was intended to give his spear the strength of steel, but had accidentally also imparted its weight. He had tweaked a muscle in his shoulder trying to pick up his spear after applying and activating it, which was still complaining at him. He had detached and set aside the patch, determined to find a use for it later on.

  Later that morning, Matt waited alongside Frank and Arlee as they secured the last of their gear. Alan was staying behind this time, having been at the forefront of the group’s defensive efforts since the beginning, and was taking the opportunity to recuperate. Carry and Belinda were watching over the children, along with Nala and Dragon, while Oli had disappeared into the shadows of the treeline and not been seen for a couple of hours.

  Setting a steady pace to save their energy for a fast sprint if needed, the trio made their way around the North side of the village toward the petrol station. Located by a roundabout on the A4 – the junction between Twyford and the nearby village of Wargrave – the location was in a prime spot to service the huge volume of traffic travelling East and West along one of the busiest roads in the country.

  All this had changed of course, with bicycles likely the only working vehicles now. Once again, they were struck by the lack of background noise.

  “It’s strange, isn’t it?” Frank noted as they rode down the hill behind the petrol station. “You get so used to the sound of traffic that you don’t notice it until it’s gone.”

  He looked wistfully into the distance before chuckling. “I miss my car.”

  “I miss hot showers and ‘Celebrity Traitors’.” Arlee piped up next, getting a laugh from the others.

  Nearing the bottom of the hill, they stowed their bikes behind a thick line of fir trees. Crossing the road into the shelter of a front garden, they crouched next to a wall which separated them from the petrol station forecourt. Peeking over the wall, they surveyed the area.

  Cars were pulled up at the pumps and in the parking spots, devoid of movement but otherwise exactly as a Saturday afternoon in the busy spot would be. The sliding doors of the shop and payment bar looked to have been pried open – likely by customers trapped inside when the electric motor failed.

  Most significantly, a delivery tanker was parked off to the side of the forecourt. They had discussed how it might be possible to actually get to the petrol without any power to the system. None of them had any direct experience, so they had packed a variety of tools and receptacles into Arlee’s bag and hoped for the best.

  Ducking down, Matt addressed the others. “It looks clear. I think we go inside and see if they have a bunch of jerry-cans we can use, then try to get petrol from either the pump or the truck.

  Moving swiftly along the wall, they reached the gate into the forecourt and hurried to the slightly parted door, which they squeezed through one-by-one. Once inside, they saw the familiar signs of animal incursion. Large dirty tracks covered the tiles, and some food displays had been ravaged and torn down. There were some gaps on other shelves, but plenty of the snacks, drinks and sweets were still present. Moving through to the front of the shop, they froze as a nervous voice rang out.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Who’s there?! What do you want?!”

  I know that voice Matt thought, standing from where they had hurriedly hidden behind a once-refrigerated display of mouldering pastries. Peeking over the counter was a close-cropped buzz of mousey brown hair. Upon seeing Matt advancing with his spear, a young man shot up from his hiding spot with an astonished look on his face, swiftly folding up and pocketing a multi-tool which he had been holding.

  “Old Matt? What’s up man - am I glad to see you! I thought you might have been more of those rat things. Or the badger-bear. Jesus, shit’s been crazy. What’s going on?!”

  Covering her mouth, Arlee giggled at the nickname. Striding forward, Matt clasped hands with the young man, who he knew from a regular touch-rugby session that ran at the local club.

  “Matty-Two, good to see you, how are you doing?”

  “Not great man, not great. Everything was going same-as, then it’s like the whole place got KO-ed at once, everything stopped working and people got properly pissed off when their cars wouldn’t start. Almost had a god-damned riot on my hands. Then after they had walked off, a bunch of others came in, said their cars weren’t working and could they use the phone. Couldn’t help them as nothing here was working.”

  He stopped and paused for a breath. “I was on a double the next day and I was kinda stuck without my wheels, so I crashed out in the back instead of walking back into town. That’s when things got wild. That’s when we started seeing the crazy stuff.”

  Matt interjected. “We? Is there someone else here as well?”

  Matty took a shuddering breath. “There… there was. We were going through all the procedures the next night before close up – I didn’t want to spend another night with a bunch of packing for a bed, and was going to walk it Get my steps in. It was all bollocks anyway – the checks – nothing was working, so it was just putting a tick in the box THAT nothing was working. But old Marshy insisted, was scared about his job. Silly old codger.”

  “I was closing up inside; he was outside making the rounds of the pumps. I saw him freeze, then turn to run, but this bunch of big things came over the wall and jumped him. I couldn’t see much, but I… I… heard them – and what they did to him.” The young man trailed off, face pale and voice choking.

  Arlee rounded the counter and took him in a hug, comforting him as he started to sob. “We know, we’ve been through the same thing. Our whole neighbourhood was overrun, and it was only through luck and courage that we made it through.” She stroked his hair gently until his sobs subsided.

  Disengaging with a grateful nod, Matty wiped his eyes and straightened up. “Sorry about that. Please don’t tell the rest of the team.”

  Definitely-Not-Old Matt leaned over the counter and clapped his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t affected by everything. We’ve seen and heard some pretty horrific stuff over the last week or so, but we’re building up a bit of a survivor community in my road. You’re welcome to come and join if you want?”

  “I dunno man, I’ve gotta…wait, survivor community? What the hell?! What happened to everyone?”

  “Most of our road and the places around us got swarmed by the rats that first night. If they got to you here as well, then that explains why we’ve seen very few people this whole side of the village. We’ve seen a few down by the crossroads, but either people are dead, gone, or huddled up in their houses and not coming out.”

  Frank spoke for the first time. “My family was trapped in our house by one of the neighbour’s dogs. It was nasty before all this happened, but then got massive and even more aggressive, and it… it broke into a lot of the homes and killed some, others ran off.”

  He nodded at Matt and Arlee. “Then one day, these two turn up with one of their friends, take down the monster and offer us a new start. We’d just about run out of food and water, couldn’t safely leave the house, and three kids to try and protect. It was hard leaving our place, but it was the right move. Now we’re settled, have heating, water and…”

  The young man interrupted. “What? How? Everything stopped working – or was that only around here?” He looked hopeful that maybe the crisis was localised.

  Matt spoke before Frank could continue. “We’ve managed to work some things out. If you want to come and check it out before making a decision, you can. It’s a long walk back into town, and no guarantee what will be waiting for you there.”

  Matty looked thoughtful as his fingers twirled the multi-tool he had pocketed earlier. “I’ll give it a think man. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good of you to offer, but it doesn’t feel right to leave everything back at home, y’know? All my stuff is there.”

  Matt nodded as the young man continued. “What brings you round today? It’s great to have visitors, but it isn’t safe wandering around is it?”

  Arlee responded first. “We have a plan to wipe out the big rat nest which has been plaguing the whole area. We found the nest, and we’ve taken steps to thin them out, but in order to destroy it for good, we need petrol. A lot of petrol.”

  “You’re going to try burning them out?”

  “Absolutely. We don’t know how many there are, but we battled a pack of about twenty to thirty at our homes a few nights back. Matt, Frank and our friend Alan and the… they managed to fight them off – just – and a lot of them would be hurt from that. Then we dumped a load of poisoned food around the nest, so we’re hoping that that will weaken them enough that we can get in and out without fighting a pitched battle. But we need the petrol to make sure they’re gone for good. Can you help us?” Arlee had a pleading look as she addressed the young man.

  He looked torn for a second, before coming to an internal decision. “Hell yeah! It’s time to get payback for Marshy, and all the others. There are a couple of pallets of jerry cans out the back we can use, and I’ve got the gear for manual release from the delivery tanker. I don’t know how much we’ll be able to carry though, it gets heavy fast, and you don’t want to risk overloading and spilling it.”

  Matt smiled in relief. “We’ve got that covered Matty.” He said, winking at Arlee. “Can you grab whatever gear you need, show us the cans and we’ll get to work.”

  As his young friend came out from behind the counter, Matt gripped his hand in thanks. “This is a huge help Matty. Thanks, truly. We’ve fought these things a few times now, and anything which means we don’t have to get close to their teeth will be massive.”

  Matty shook hands back, perking up with renewed focus and drive. Matt knew him reasonably well from rugby, without being a close friend. Having the same name in a rugby team inevitably led to nicknames, and honestly considering some of the names that sports teams came up with, they’d both got off quite lightly in that regard.

  True to his word, Matty pointed them through a storage door to a large stack of jerry cans. As he left to grab whatever equipment he needed, Arlee swung her bag to the ground and they all started piling the green plastic cans inside. Grabbing the last half dozen in their hands, they went outside to find Matty waiting for them in the forecourt, looking around nervously.

  “One night, I heard this big snuffling and sneaked a look out. It was quite a bright moon, and this badger the size of a bear was sniffing around. I was pretty fragrant by then, so ran and barricaded myself in the toilet. I’m not a religious bloke, but I was praying to anyone who would listen as I heard it force the doors and start tearing into some of the food. Luckily, it decided to leave a bit after that. Not surprising with the number of sandwiches it went through – it must have had some bad gut-rot.”

  He led them over to the delivery tanker and around to the back, where a number of complicated looking valves and handles were mounted. Putting down the metallic adaptor he had been carrying, he knelt and felt around under the main array of controls.

  “One of the drivers put me in the know of how to get into these things if the pumps didn’t work. Good thing, because otherwise we’d be stuffed. These things are built like bunkers.”

  After a few minutes of straining and the occasional expletive, there was a loud click and a gurgling sound was heard for a few seconds, before ceasing.

  “Alright, now we can use this valve to start a slow drain of the tank.” He said, pointing to a long yellow and black handle. “Flip it left and the petrol will flow. We attach the adaptor here…” Matty clipped the piece he had brought outside to one of the several pipes under the controls. “…and then use the funnel to fill the cans. Start lining them up.”

  They lined up the six cans they had brought out. Arlee put her bag on the ground and held the mouth open, ready to provide more when the first ones were done. The operation started smoothly, Frank placing each empty can under the funnel while Matty started the flow, stopping when the can was almost full. Matt had climbed on top of the tanker and was keeping a watch over the area, and Arlee was taking the full cans from Frank, placing them in her bag before pulling out a replacement empty.

  After several minutes, Matty closed off the flow as another can was full and looked around.

  “Alright, what the hell is going on?” He said with a confused look on his face. “You brought out six cans, but I know we’ve filled at least twice that, and where are they all? Are you lot bloody magicians with a disappearing act?”

  Above them, Matt laughed, but it was Arlee who responded. “When whatever caused all this happened, it seems to have made anything each person was holding at that precise time into a special item. They only seem to work for that person but can have some… well… magical powers.”

  “Yeah, right. No disrespect, but magic isn’t a thing… is it?” He asked, thoughtfully twirling the multitool in one hand.

  In response, Arlee smiled mysteriously and with a grand flourish opened her bag and started pulling out jerry cans. More and more were stacked beside her as Matty’s eyes grew wide, the pile dwarfing Arlee, let alone the small backpack they were emerging from.

  “Oooookaaay. Magic is real. Gotcha.” He said with wild eyes. As if only now registering the tool in his hand, he looked down with dawning realisation. “That would explain why this thing suddenly has a magnifying glass, which it definitely didn’t have when I got it.”

  From above him, Matt spoke in an attempt at a mysterious voice. “Magic is real, my young padawan. Come with us, and learn secrets of life, the universe and everything!”

  They laughed, Matty looking intrigued as they filled up the remaining cans. With room to spare and with the young attendant’s permission, they also loaded up with a bunch of non-perishable snacks, sweets and drinks, particularly the bottled water. The young man looked on in amazement as shelf after shelf of goods disappeared into Arlee’s bag, while she stood there nonchalantly holding it as if it weighed nothing.

  Upon finally reaching capacity, they moved outside. Matty turned to them, looking nervous.

  “If it’s okay Matt, I will come on back with you. There isn’t really much for me here, and I don’t fancy walking miles with whatever beasts are lurking around with a taste for people.”

  The trio nodded their acceptance and smiled at his relief. Talking him through the route back and things to watch out for, Matt and Arlee both offered their bikes to him, which he refused.

  “No offence, but if our rugby sessions are anything to go by, I might need to slow my run down so ‘Old Matt’…” He raised the ubiquitous finger quotation marks. “…can keep up on his bike.”

  He laughed at Matt’s phony outraged expression, and started a fast jog up the road. The others mounted up and followed, not having to hold back from a comfortable riding pace as the pesky youngster’s fitness was obviously up to the task.

  Spirits were high as they rounded the final bend toward home. Mission stage one accomplished. They had – hopefully – their solution to the nest, and potentially a new ally and neighbour into the bargain. Laughing as Matty continued some good-natured jibes at Matt’s fitness (or lack thereof), they pulled up outside the Brands’ house.

  Bidding goodbye to Frank as he stowed the bikes back in their garage, they knocked on the door, all smiles as it was swiftly opened. Before they could pass on their good news however, they took in the ashen pall over Carry’s face, and the sound of sobbing from Kira in the living room.

  Looking askance at their friend, two words filled them with dread. The laughter of moments before now faded into silence at their gravity.

  “Lara’s gone.”