Elvis and Mike had a beautiful chemistry of the deadliest kind. The big guy actively engaged and viciously destroyed any and all insects that got near him but he targeted bigger ones with a vengeance. Scoripedes, mantis-mites, oversized soldier ant-spiders, Elvis would launch himself at them like a grizzly bear on crack. His favorite tactic was to jump up and land on them with a mighty downward swing of his warhammer

  Mike, on the other hand, locked down the swarms harrying Elvis’ blindside. All four of his invisible telekinetic hands gripped weapons—spears, axes, clubs—each swinging with the weight of his low-grade super strength. It was like watching a ghostly warband fight for him: one spear hooked legs, flipping bugs onto their backs, while an axe hacked down into their soft underbellies. He was so intent on directing his phantom arsenal that I had to cover his real body, or the swarm would’ve gutted him. The sight was mesmerizing, almost hypnotic—floating weapons cutting and smashing while their wielder stood perfectly still.

  “Well that lasted two whole minutes.” I grumbled, killing the dwindling tide of ant-spiders. Oddly enough, the ones that were the size of dogs were the easiest to kill. They were just big enough to easily hit and they did with one stroke of warhammer or one slam of my shield. The smaller ones that were the size of cats, you had to be quick and step on those.

  “Grant! You might want to see this!”

  I felt more than saw the urgency from Sandra through our mental link. She was getting better at not accidentally battering down my mind with the full force of hers.

  “Just tell me!” I shot back. “Kinda busy here!”

  Her exasperation felt more solid than the words we exchanged through our connection. “I think I see your brother!”

  A blurry vision of him sprinting down the ruins of Route 1 assaulted my brain. Weird spikes stuck out his body at all angles and broken plates of some off-white color covered him like armor. Nipping at his heels was a bug larger than a city bus. He was conducting a respectable fighting retreat.

  A thousand thoughts raced through my brain, all of them fighting for my attention.

  Is he okay? How in the world did he get here from northern Virginia? Did he get cool powers too? How can he manage to get down here if we can’t even get thirty yards away from my goddamn house?

  Springing to my feet without thinking, my exhaustion slapped me hard reminding me of the boatload of power I’d just expended. I wasn’t going anywhere until I recovered.

  I yelled out to Elvis. “If you see Paul, tell him to head I need healing! I’ll be right back!”

  Without waiting for confirmation, I darted inside, leaving my warhammer on the front porch. There was no point holding it inside, no room to swing the damn thing. My right hand fell to my belt confirming that my smaller tomahawk was still there.

  Boris stood right in front of me, his shield out. His arm was cocked back ready to brain me.

  “Whoa! Easy!” I said. “Human here, not an insect.”

  Boris lowered his shield. “Ya coulda’ yapped out before ya nigh broke dawn ya ohn’ door there, lad.”

  “True, anyways, where’s your wife?” I looked around, not seeing any of the women that I expected. His wife Lannie, Isabella, and their two friends were missing.

  “Afer’ the young lass patched me oop’ nice-like, me worser half took’em downstairs.”

  I hollered as I walked past him, through the rooms until I got to the basement steps from the kitchen. “Isabella! I’m coming down!”

  I learned my lesson.

  My basement had seen better days. It used to be finished before the pipes backed up two years ago and we’d had to tear out all the carpet and throw out a ton of stuff. Now, in fear of that happening again, we kept most of our stuff in plastic bins and up on shelves. Most of the plastic bins hadn’t been touched by mana-infused water so they were still useful. An unfinished table project I had been working on was now in the main room where all of the ladies were organizing the medical gear I’d scrounged up a few days prior.

  “Sorry to rush you like this, Isabella.” I said, leaning heavily against the side of the wooden staircase. “But I need you to take a look at me.”

  Her pinched face looked me up and down with a skeptic’s eye. “You don’t look injured.”

  I held back a frown. “True, but I feel injured. Like a whole body bruise but deeper. Not sure if I pushed my powers too hard or my body is going to take time to acclimate to that level of physical stress, but I’m hurtin’. I need to know if something not obvious is wrong, please, just take a look.”

  “There are better things ta’ be doin’ ere’ lad dan’ having the nice nurse fix up your imagination. Ya one o’ da weak ones? The little boys that cry fer their mum when ya stumble through ta’ thicket?”

  Lannie’s quip was a bit too mean-spirited. I could see the distasteful smirk she tried to hide. Her little jab was enough to make Isabella waffle more than she already was. I’m definitely not above some friendly ribbin’ but she had a mean streak. She was the kind of person to say ‘just kidding’ after cutting too close to the bone.

  My patience was already pretty much gone. Too much bug gristle swam in my pants for me to be nice to some Irish bitch in my own fucking basement.

  I turned to the two still nameless women with a soft smile. “Ladies, I apologize for what you’re about to see. Normally, I would never address a woman in such a manner without being greatly pushed since my wife is more than happy to deck any miserable bat for me. However, I think I pushed my abilities too far defending this house from swarms of hungry mutant insects that crave human flesh and more people are outside still doing the same. So, again, I apologize.”

  I dropped my shield from my left hand, stepped forward and leveled my tomahawk right at Lannie’s throat. My blade kissed her jugular. The haft of the ax creaked as I squeezed, imagining that it was her neck.

  “You are here at my generosity and it is quickly running dry. Shape up or ship off, bitch.”

  Her eyes widened but no sound came out. I didn’t let any air escape. I don’t like bullies, emotional or otherwise. Poisonous people have a tendency to turn others to their own self-destructive ways.

  “You keep this up, and I’ll make sure Boris finds himself a new lady. My wife’s plants have bottomless stomachs.”

  Lannie’s gulp wasn’t the only one that I heard.

  Letting the edge linger for a moment, I put my weapon away and stood in front of Isabella.

  “Please use your abilities to see if something is wrong with me or if I just strained my powers or soul or whatever powers all my magical BS.” Her distrustful look hurt but it was understandable.

  I held a couple fingers. “One, you owe me big time. Two, you’re on loan from the church because of our deal and you don't want me to go back on making them weapons and armor. Three, I’ve never been anything but good to you and your family. Four, not only are your husband and I friends, but we’ve saved each other’s lives out there today. Five, we are doing the hard work of keeping all of your asses from being monster food. Six, we’ve fed and sheltered you for days.Seven! My brother is out there and we can’t get to him because of all the damn mutants in the way and there’s something freaking wrong with me!.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  My jaw tightened. “Need I go on?”

  Isabella’s reticence faded as it became very clear that she not only owed me, but this was the very duty she had already accepted. As she worked through whatever was holding her back, I stood up straighter and addressed something that particularly irritated me.

  “I don’t even know y’alls name?” My voice was noticeably kinder as I addressed the two strangers who’d stayed in my house for the last couple days. I had been so damn busy scavenging and building and using my Alchemy that I just hadn’t had the time. I figured Sandra would’ve kicked them out if they’d turned out to be trouble.

  I gave a half-hearted smile tinged with exhaustion. “My name is Grant and this is my house. Y’all know my wife and just about everybody else. Elvis, our resident half-giant, and Paul, our knock-off Superman are up there fighting mutant insects with myself and her-” I motioned towards Isabella with a nod, “husband. So, do either of you heal or why exactly did Boris and his disgruntled half bring y’all around.”

  The shorter of the two, a small skinny blonde with a wider face gave a slight cough. “My name is Denise, thank you for welcoming us into your home.”

  “Welcoming is an odd way of putting it.” I laughed. “Honestly, just been so damn busy that I haven’t had the time. So, what can you do?”

  She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I can increase a person’s natural rate of regeneration, a slow-ish uptick in how fast you heal. I think it targets the skin first and then moves down to fix the deeper layers of skin.” Denise blushed. “I haven’t had the chance to test it out fully.”

  Nodding as I thought it over, I sighed. “Don’t worry, those opportunities will come.” Turning to her friend, I didn’t even have to ask.

  “Rochelle, but everyone calls me ‘Rach’.” She was only a few inches taller than Denise, curvier and more outgoing. I saw none of her friend’s shyness. “My abilities are pretty cool but very slow. I can dull someone’s pain, reconnect severed nerves and ligaments or tendons, and reset bones.” She let out a light laugh. “Only problem is, none of what I can do is fast and I run out of steam pretty quickly.”

  [Well, that’s pretty damn cool!] I thought to myself, making sure to send that right along to Sandra through our mental link even though this is probably old news to her. [We got ourselves a little triage team right here!]

  [Why do you think I let them stay?] My wife answered sarcastically. [It’s not because either of them are any good in the kitchen.]

  Stifling my laughter, I stepped closer to the women, my brother’s predicament still foremost in my mind. “Okay, I’ve wasted enough time here. How does this woo-woo healer shit work?”

  Isabella rolled her eyes, handing me a strip of cloth. “Clean off your face.”

  I did so and she stuck her finger on my head. Denise and Rochelle followed suit. For a moment or two, nothing happened and I just stood there pretending not to notice Lannie glaring at me. I made sure to stay standing in such a way that she remained in my field of vision. That bitch rubbed me the wrong way. Not enough to immediately kick her to the curb but enough that I wouldn’t be around her without other people.

  Denise pulled her finger back first. It glowed with a soft golden light before returning to normal. “I’m so sorry. I did what I could. Your entire system is stressed, muscle tears all over and your bones have many many micro-fractures. It’s like you can’t fully withstand your own abilities.”

  “I agree.” Rochelle said, taking a step back. “There’s nothing for me to do here though, there are no serious, definitive injuries for me to fix.”

  Isabella collapsed into a heap on the cheap rug. Lannie caught her just before her head could hit the cheap carpet. Denise gasped and Rochelle grabbed a cup of water, turning to prop Isabella up.

  “What did ya’ do to’er?” Lannie hissed. She carefully tucked Isabella’s stray hairs behind her ear before opening her eyelids.

  [WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG?! THOMAS IS GETTING HIS ASS WHOOPED!]

  I staggered forward, my wife’s mental body slam reverberating through my skull. I almost gave her the mental equivalent of the middle finger, instead, I just slammed the door shut on our connection. It took another two minutes for my eyes to stop vibrating and my sense of balance to return to normal. I missed Denise reaching forward and applying her low-grade regeneration to Isabella who woke up just a few breaths later.

  Holding up my hand to forestall any questions, I muttered a bitter ‘Thanks’ before stomping up the stairs. My Earth Magic might be over strained, but my body felt a helluva lot better after Isabella’s healing. Spurred on by irritation gradually sliding over into a pain induced low grade anger, I stalked back out into my front yard.

  When this is all said and done, the wife and I are going to have a serious talk about fucking boundaries.

  ********

  Thomas

  I get it. Magic is here. It’s basically some version of the apocalypse and I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe I am not, in fact, hallucinating. Getting stabbed and bitten enough times for days on end will convince anyone that this is, in fact, reality. But to my credit, I tried to play the hero with my diminished faculties. But when everything from carnivorous deer that shoot flaming antler shards to truck sized bears covered in metal porcupine quills come out of the woods, it’s every human for himself.

  At least during the freak rain storm I could cover some serious ground going southbound even though it only served to add to my overall misery. The animals mostly left me alone and I allowed myself to take the risk of crossing the wooded divide to get to the Route 1 highway going south as that would actually be closer to my brother than the I-95 bridge.

  Even though I passed more civilization off the interstate, it didn’t really matter. Scavenging was kind of pointless. My shoes melted off. My helmet dissolved on my head, and the lining in my leather jacket completely disintegrated. I thought I found some comfort that my pure cotton socks didn’t melt in the rain but they couldn’t stand up to running on the sandy gravel that used to be asphalt. In no time, my bare feet were getting punished. I subsisted on bits of food and soup in metal cans I found in dilapidated gas stations. Just about all the clothes I found had melted away into nothing.

  Days later, here I am, basically starving and two-thirds naked, sprinting my ass off in this ungodly humidity. Everything is sticking to me and that just makes me look like prey. Sweat, blood, bodily fluids from me and the mutant animals I’ve fought off. Everybody’s getting eaten or becoming the thing that does the eating. Problem is, I seem to have garnered the attention of the latter. I’ll admit that I hadn’t exactly been minding my own business, but knocking over a tree full of mutated squirrels holding explosive acorns into the Rappahannock River may not have been the smartest idea.

  Trying to get away from the furry TNT loving bastards was bad enough. It’s like they thought the Interstate and the highway were perfect target practice grounds and because my Barrier Magic kept me alive, I’ve only become a better target over time. So surprise surprise, I absorbed all that explosive energy and gave it right back to them. Their wide oak tree blew out the side, its roots splintering into sawdust from thirty plus acorn grenades of energy being channeled into it.

  And while I stood there, proud but gasping for breath and bathing in the beautiful spray of water from the tree’s worth of magical explosives going off like dynamite fishing, a true horror raised its ugly head.

  Some kind of water beetle the size of a gravel dump truck gripped the crumbling fossil that was the Route 1 bridge, pulling its monstrous yet simple body up. Its taloned feet tore through the fragmenting concrete, the formerly super hard material now the consistency and strength of chalk. I put aside my desire to test it out and instead slowly walked to my right as I looked at the beast. Things that ugly were meant to be small so we wouldn’t have to look at them. But that’s not the only thing screaming for my attention.

  I still had to cross the river. And as I took a split second to look across the bridge that was supposed to be a nice straight shot into Fredericksburg, I saw that it was riddled with craters. Most of the flat horizontal roadway was simply gone. What was left were isolated square platforms that looked like they would crumble at any moment. Bent rebar stuck out of the concrete at weird angles like broken fingers reaching for the sky.

  There’s no way I was going to be able to jump across the damn bridge. A little part inside of me laughed, the ‘Foul-Mouthed’ Bridge. It was my little mental trick to remember that this was called the ‘Falmouth Bridge’.

  An inhuman shriek of hunger brought me back to my senses. I made a snap decision.

  “Fuck the bridge!”

  Tearing down and to the right like the devil was on my tail, I ran around the entrance of the bridge, down the hill to where the first support column met the shallow sandy beach.

  I remembered my brother had told me that this is where the moms of Fredericksburg would take their kids to play because this part of the river slowed way down and was super shallow. You could cross most of it at this section without even getting your hips wet.

  My core screamed in my chest. Gaining influxes of kinetic energy and then immediately shunting them into my barriers or healing or boosting my physical capabilities for so long had pushed my abilities past their limits. I don’t even know if I had any more to give. I desperately needed a week’s worth of food and sleep. Let’s not forget a decent shower.

  Clutching my chest, I waded through the brown water as fast as I could, my other hand out for balance. The water was higher than I expected, reaching just underneath my ribs. Things I couldn’t see bit at my legs but my plates of bone armor kept most of it away. Then, I heard the sound I feared the most. I didn’t even look back. I knew what it was.

  Death was on my trail.