It takes me a second to spot him. He’s still in the same ripped sweatpants and black and white flannel from yesterday, though they both have new holes and singed parts. There’s other changes, too, like the burn marks on his face or his new uneven haircut, the long hair hacked off to around his ears. I can almost see the path the fire took on his body based on these things alone. I cringe.

  “What are you talking about, Marvin?” someone says, and I look over to see Sutherland Beverly, standing by the bar, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks untouched from the fight. Did he even participate at all?

  The human lie detector—Marvin, I guess—limps over from the doorway out to the main hall. He brandishes a finger in my direction. “This hussy lit me on fire yesterday!” he tells the room. Hussy? What year does he think it is? Still, it’s grown way too quiet in here, with the only sound someone crying softly somewhere. “Splashed me with gas and then used fire magic to light me up!”

  “Marvin, we already know what this girl’s magic is. She told us. It’s being able to know where the mutated animals are, not fire magic.”

  I have no idea why this man is sticking up for me, but I’ll take it. I still can’t quite get a read on him.

  “No, no, she had other people with her. A girl with a magical inventory!”

  Mentioning Nancy makes me snap back. “A girl who you threatened to kidnap!” I say.

  “And therefore also someone without fire magic,” Sutherland points out.

  But I’m not quite finished rubbing in the shitty things he said yesterday. “What was it you said, that you wanted to steer her right?”

  Sutherland sighs. “Oh, Marvin,” he chides.

  “Where is that other bitch?” Marvin says. “Where did all this sports equipment come from? She must be here somewhere.”

  He thinks Nancy is here, since he doesn’t know that I have a magical inventory, too.

  “You’re not getting anywhere close to her,” I snap. “Or I’ll light you on fire all over again.”

  Marvin makes an indignant sound.

  “Is this really the most important thing to be discussing right now?” Sutherland says. He gestures for me to come off the risers. “Come, child, stay close in case any animals return. But we need to get back on track.”

  “Beverly,” Marvin pleads. “Don’t listen to her. How long have you known me now?”

  “Years, Marvin,” Sutherland says, and my heart drops. “I’ve known you to be unstable and untrustworthy for years.” Vindication. Sutherland goes on. “Now get out, or shut up, but I have a meeting to run.”

  I can’t help my grin. I hop off the risers and give Sutherland a smile, a nod of thanks, before retrieving my backpack from where I left it. I pull out my water and take a sip as the rest of the crowd listens to Sutherland as he tries to get the town hall back on track. The chairs are lined back up, except for the cluster in the far corner for our interim infirmary.

  People are resilient, I’ll give them that. We took a break for a battle, and now they settle right back in for the rest of the meeting.

  I tune it right out. Instead I consider my map, the way the purple haze of the surge just dropped, opaque and fully formed. I ask the Game what happened and it offers me nothing, and I tune back into the meeting god knows how much later when someone new is standing up on the risers, a clipboard in hand.

  It looks so boring, so normal, that it almost takes me by surprise.

  The woman with the clipboard has an unlined, wrinkle-free face but a full head of grey hair, pulled back in an efficient ponytail. She’s in blue jeans and a white long-sleeved tee, looking like anyone out to rum errands during the Before times. She’s trying to give out jobs. Who wants to be a teacher in their new school, who wants to work in their new infirmary, who wants to help defend their town as a new police officer. In turn, they’ll be gifted with food stores and fresh water.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  I suppose it’s good to take in this information, to understand how to build a community. Though it also overwhelms me, with how much there is to think about.

  Maybe Nancy, Ryder, and I are better off just joining in with the rest of the town.

  As we move into hour three of the Town Hall, I start nodding off. Just a little. The current debate is about where they want to move the bulk of the town. There’s good reasons to move into a more centralized location. It’s more defendable, it’s easier to share resources, it’s easier to send messages without phones. But people really don’t want to leave their homes, which is filled with their belongings and their memories and the reminders of their loved ones who didn’t survive the Event.

  Again, I consider this as a barrier for whatever my magical commune ends up doing. Moving people’s things is easy, by using our inventories. But moving away from people’s memories is harder. I guess I could turn my little subdivision into a defendable community. Then I don’t have to lose my own family home. But how can I convince someone to join me if I’m not willing to do what I’m asking them to do?

  It’s all very confusing.

  And then another purple block blinks into existence on my map. “Oh for the love of—Sutherland?” I call out, interrupting the woman still trying to find someone to run a communal pantry. And suddenly everyone’s eyes are on me again.

  He’s still sitting on the riser, along with the newly appointed mayor and deputy mayor. “Again?” Sutherland asks, and I can only nod.

  There’s no questioning me this time. He starts shouting instructions, and a second later I see the megaphone girl coming forward while Sutherland’s commands get louder. I leave him in the main hall and head into the empty front foyer. I consider taking out one of the tables in my inventory, or one of the larger store displays, to try to block the door, but I’m not sure if that’s worth the questions it might pose. Instead, I head over to the (out of order, obviously) vending machines that are just to the right of the doors. One for drinks, one for snacks.

  The glass front of the snacks one has been broken in, the snacks cleared out. I start with that one.

  The extra Tokens I’ve put into my strength mean I could probably move it on my own, but I’m a little surprised when someone grunts against the other side, helping me. We shuffle the vending machine into place in front of the door, and then I step back to look at the person who helped me.

  It’s a tiny Asian woman.

  Like, tiny. Can barely be more than five feet tall, her waist the size of one of my thighs. I can’t contain my surprise, even if I wanted to.

  “Magic,” she says in response to my surprise, and then she goes right back for the pop vending machine.

  This one’s heavier—clearly there’s still drinks inside—but we manage to get it in front of the broken glass, too. The two machines side-by-side don’t cover the two doors and the broken-out window panes on either side, but at least it’ll slow some of the monsters down.

  At least, from this entrance, I think as I stare down to the side door at the other end of the hallway.

  My muscle-magic new friend notices where I’m looking. “There isn’t anything else down there to cover the doors,” she says, the faintest accent in her voice.

  “Shoot. Anything in the coat check?” I ask, gesturing to the opening in the wall further down the foyer.

  She looks over, then looks back at me, and we both sprint toward the door in the hallway that leads into the little coat check space. There’s a few folding tables leaning against the wall. “Better than nothing,” my new friend says, and I nod. We both grab one and rush back into the hallway when the first of the new monsters leap through the broken glass.

  This other woman stomps down on the chipmunk as soon as it lands on the floor.

  I’m impressed.

  We open the folding tables, using their legs to stand it up so that it’s partially in front of the door. It won’t hold anything off for too long, but it’ll do. Without speaking, we both run right back to the coat check and each grab a second table, lugging them over to the side door down the other end of the hallway. A group of men have all come out of the main hall behind us, my sports equipment in hand, ready to protect the main entrance.

  The tables and the vending machines do just enough to slow the monsters down, or maybe the majority are still sleeping off the effects of the last surge—two in two hours seems like a lot, especially without any movement of the surge site before it settled—but it’s an easy little fight, with me and my hallway protectors ensuring that no monsters get into the main hall at all. Once again, though, the surge barely crests before it’s done, and once again I check my profile after to find that I didn’t get a Rank Token. It’s disheartening, but with these weak surges and number of people in the room, I can understand it.

  Hmm, number of people in the room… That tickles something in the back of my brain, but when the thought doesn’t immediately materialize, I cast it away. I have more important things to worry about.

  “Wing,” a voice says, breaking me from my reverie. I look over. It’s the woman from before, the tiny Asian woman who looks like a light wind can snap her in half.

  “Where’s there a wing?” I ask, glancing around. A few dead monsters litter the space.

  She laughs. “No, that’s my name. Wing.” She holds out a hand.

  “Oh. Sorry.” I take her hand, giving it a strong shake. “I’m Jane,” I offer in return. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” she replies. But she narrows her eyes at me, a little bit conspiratorial. “You’re more than what you seem, Jane,” she says ominously. “I think there’s something that you’re not telling us.”

  I guess I also look like someone who shouldn’t be able to move a vending machine. I grin at her. “Everyone has their secrets.”

  Wing lets out a good-natured laugh and, without another word, heads back into the hall.