Chapter 7

Within days, my post was confirmed by others. (and disputed by countless, faceless, nay-sayers.) Teams came back scarred and scared. People were complaining of lost teammates and the insane speed of the ghouls. I was even attacked for downplaying their danger.

How much stronger of a warning did they expect? I stated twice the danger of the second floor and its dual bosses.

My original post shot up the forum rankings, by Friday, it had over a half-million views.

Saturday, I, we, received a visitor. Nat didn’t have to work until later, so was relaxing with her besties when the doorbell rang. I was in my office working on a new Project for a customer that Paula’s father found for me. She herself had a doozy of a Project, which would take her months to finish. Not that my reclusive partner minded at all.

“Jase, it’s for you!” Jude called out from the living room. The Terrible Trio was playing around on the Xbox and were too lazy to walk to my office.

Saving my work, I went to see who came calling on a Saturday morning.

A fortyish man in a suit, stood next to a kid in a sports jacket and slacks. My initial guess, was that the older one was a lawyer and the teen’s father.

“May I help you?”

“Jason Blakely?”

“Yes.”

“My son would like to join your team. I’m willing to pay. May we come in?”

The peanut gallery behind me went silent, their game paused.

“Mister?”

“Jon Getty. This is my son Roger.”

“Please enter. I hope the kitchen table is fine.”

Three sets of dark eyes followed us to the kitchen where I sat my, our, guests at the table.

“Why us? And what does your son offer to our team?”

“You have demonstrated that you can clear the second floor of Indigo without losses, before any other team in the area. Also, your team has a registered Healer and you only have four members.”

Six was the maximum number of participants per Portal run, and considering the dangers of the Portals, most teams were trying to meet that number.

“Roger, what is your profession?”

“I’m an archer, sir.”

“We already have three ranged Weapons on our team. If anything, we need another frontline.” The girls’ word for my position, not mine.

“I’m willing to offer ten thousand dollars per every successful run of the second floor and lower in an Indigo Portal as long as Roger gets an equal share of the treasure.” Mr. Getty offered.

I heard the three sudden exhales from the peanut gallery in the next room. that would be twenty-five hundred dollars each.

“Roger, have you been in a Portal before?”

“Once, sir.”

“Which one and when?”

“When they first came out. And it was a Violet one in the school locker room.

“How many of you died?” The way the kid had talked about his experience, it had to have been a bad run.

Looking at his father, Roger hesitated before answering. “One, there were just the two of us. Kenn didn’t know what to expect and the ant bit his ankle. I couldn’t stop the bleeding before he was swarmed by other ants.”

I nodded to myself. An archer versus giant ants at close range, while they swarmed his friend, would be fairly useless. “How long have you been practicing archery?”

“Since I was eight. Dad started to take me hunting when I was eleven.”

“Ever get a buck?”

“Once, last year.”

“Congrats. Bow hunting is hard at your age. So, Roger, how old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“What year, make and model of car do you drive?”

Roger hesitated at the curveball question, “a 2026 Mercedes 300, but what does that have to do with anything?” There was a slight edge to his reply.

“Roger, how would you describe your personality? Are you outgoing, shy, artistic, flamboyant, jock, nerd, band geek, computer nerd, arrogant, strait laced, cocky, girl chaser, gun shy, bookish or something else?”

The clean-cut young man looked at his relaxed and blank-faced father and hesitated. The sudden realization that the girls were still watching occurred to him as his head followed his blue eyes. Still silent for a count of ten, “I guess, I’m outgoing. You can say I’m a jock; I’m on the basketball team.”

“Anything else?”

Looking at his father for help and not getting any, “I have a girlfriend, and I guess I can be confident.”

“Confident or arrogant?”

“Confident.”

“Okay.” I took his reply at face value, whether or not it was accurate was a question for later.

“Do you wonder why I asked about your car? Do you see those three girls behind me? Your car is probably worth more than they will earn in the next three years combined. Can a rich, privileged, good-looking young man like yourself; treat three average girls from the slums as equals?” I paused to let my question sink in, “you made a significant mistake when you asked to join my team.” I saw the young man tense. “Do you actually believe that a grown man approached three high school aged girls, to join him in Portal runs and go into danger, instead of them asking me to join them?”

The lightbulb lit, “they asked you.”

I was no longer a ‘sir’, apparently.

“Correct, the team is theirs, not mine. My next question is; are you trying to hire three high school girls to be your bodyguards in Portal runs?”

Seeing his hesitation, my guess was that he really didn’t know how to answer that question.

Mercilessly, I continued with my attack. “Do you expect those girls to take a bullet for you for that ten thousand dollars, or be teammates with them on an equal basis? Roger, if you are paying that ten thousand to join our team, would you take a bullet for any of us?”

I ignored the whispers behind me. I knew he wouldn’t right now. Maybe in the future, if he lived to grow up. Again, Mr. Getty made no change in posture nor facial expression.

“Thank you for coming by. Roger, we will discuss your offer and get back to you,” I stood.

“What would I need to do to join your team?” Roger saw his chances fly out the window.

“Those girls need a partner, not a boss. In our last run, two of us came close to dying. We don’t have time to worry about others who stand apart or try and stand above. No team does. Look at your basketball team at school, if your shooting guard thought he was running the team, how would the other players react? Consider that, when searching for a new team.”

Unmoving, “I can do that.”

“I’m not sure we can, trust is our main concern when choosing a new teammate. Please let us discuss your offer. I’m sure your father has a card. I’ll let you know what we decide in a couple days.”

I received Mr. Getty’s personal card and a handshake at the door. His thank you held a subtle smile. I wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but hoped that he approved of my interview of his child.

Roger was quiet and visibly unhappy. His shoulders slumped when he walked off of my front porch.

“What a TOOL!”

“What do you mean average?” Jude was not pleased with my description of the trio.

“It got him out of here didn’t it?”

“Asshole!” No, Jude was not pleased with me at all.

“You know, I don’t believe that any of you are average.”

“It still was...” she was fuming.

I pulled up a chair, “I know you were all interested in his money. The cost was too high. He wanted you to be his bodyguards. That, I won’t accept.”

No way in hell, was that kid coming with me.

“Thanks, Jason.”

“We aren’t average.”

“Thanks, Jason, for saving us from ourselves,” Nat added in.

“I have to get back to work.”

I considered Roger’s visit as a win. They learned, and Jude was more effervescent in my house since moving in.

They ambushed me on the way to my office and made me play games with them for the next hour or two. I only stopped when the phone rang, Joe called to go out to the bar with the guys, which sounded great.

I didn’t return until almost two.

“You stink go shower,” Nat greeted me on entry to my own home.

Only a bit...

“Jason, Jude needs to rub your back, remember? Go shower and leave your towel on.”

“Okay,” I shrugged. A shower and back rub sounded great.

I washed off the cigarette, cigar and alcohol odor then crashed on my bed head first. I might have had one too many.

“You were supposed to leave the towel on,” came an exasperated voice. Kate didn’t sound unhappy though.

My damp towel was roughly placed over my ass.

“Jude, you can come in now.”

“He’s not tied up,” she complained weakly.

“Jason saved your life. Just sit on his butt and give him his massage. I promise he won’t bite you.”

My mind wandered in dangerous places, at that suggestion.

I felt the small girl climb on me. They all were small, as none of them weighed more than a hundred and twenty pounds fully clothed and soaking wet. The cold oil spread unevenly over my back felt great. Fighting the urge to roll over. I manhandled my pillow, crossed my arms under it and relaxed.

“That feels great Jude, thanks,” I mumbled into my pillow.

“It’s OKAY.”

“What Skill did you get?”

“Backstab.”

“Was there a description?”

“The Skill just says; critical damage if target is caught unaware.”

“Excellent,” I mumbled tiredly. “We need more Skills for everyone.”

“Yeah.”

Sigh...

I did not pass out while a girl straddled me and rubbed my back. NOPE!

I was a tad slow on Saturday. The girls teased me relentlessly. Hiding in my office, I placed a couple of calls and made arrangements for Sunday. Revenge would be Mine!

Maybe not.

Later on Saturday, Amazon delivered an extra twin bed for the guest room. three on a queen was a bit much. Nat didn’t spend too many nights at my house, but enough to need to sleep somewhere not too cramped. Katie and Jude shared the queen without a qualm so far. I was strongly resistant to give up my office, the only place I could move my computer equipment would be my bedroom. Or the basement. That wasn’t going to happen. I spent too many hours working there to settle for a cramped space.

To be honest, I doubted that any of them even considered asking for more bedroom space.

They would have to deal with a shared smaller room. I wasn’t charging rent and it was safe. Kate had all but moved in. I hadn’t asked, but understood that she had only left a change or two of clothes in her stepfather’s apartment.

Nat split her clothes between the two of our places, I also cleaned out an area in the basement for the girls to store anything they desired.

Nat came home Saturday night, a bit grumpy. Her boss at work hired a new driver, giving her less deliveries.

I consoled her by saying that it would make it easier to take off for our Portal runs.

She didn’t buy it.

Sunday morning, I woke everyone at 7:30, after I showered, of course. “Wake up sleepyheads, we have a visitor coming in a half hour.”

“Who?” they chorused.

“Her name is Nancy. Be nice to her, she is going to help you learn to fight.” That motivated them.

Nancy Luck was my friend Joe’s wife. During our bar outing on Friday, I brought up the possibility of his wife teaching my team. He said he would ask. The razzing started shortly after when I admitted to having three high school girls on my team.

Those fuckers never let up all night.

All day yesterday, too. The assholes kept sending me old-man / cradle-robber, jokes.

When I contacted Nancy yesterday, she couldn’t agree to help out fast enough. I just knew that Joe couldn’t wait to spill everything, once he got home on Friday. I privately wagered that Nancy was coming to help them, not me. And also to make sure that I wasn’t abusing those poor girls.

Bastards.

“Hi, Nancy.”

“You, go play somewhere for an hour.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I rolled my eyes. She wasn’t serious. Mostly.

“Just go hide in your office for a while. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out.”

“Be careful with Jude,” I reminded her quietly. “Girls, we have company. This is Nancy. Nancy, these are Jude, Kate and Natalie. Nancy is a combat instructor for the Chicago police. She is here to see if she wants to teach us how to fight. Be honest. Remember Roger from the other day? Don’t be like him. I’ll be in my office.

Grabbing a Coke from the fridge, I hid.

A half hour later, Nancy didn’t even knock before entering my office. Closing the door behind her, “are you starting a shelter?”

“They found me,” I protested.

“I bet they saw you coming a mile away.”

“Probably. Can you help them?”

“Are you really taking them in those stupid Portals to god knows where?”

“If I said no, they would go anyway.”

“And die.”

“And die,” I agreed.

“What about you?”

“When I first touched my Axe on that day, I healed everything. I hadn’t felt this good since training camp freshman year. Even my high school injuries were gone. I’m stronger, faster and in better shape and health than ever in my life.”

“How do you measure up against those monsters you face?”

“They aren’t even close to me.”

“Yet.”

“We won’t be moving from the second floor for a while. All of us need to improve. If you can help them learn how to defend themselves, we will be fine for a Level or two. We will need a full team before touching the fourth floor.”

“Any clues on more teammates?”

I told her about the ‘Roger’ kid. “There will be others. What we need is another head-on attacker, we have three support or ranged ones right now. I can’t block more than two bosses and bosses aren’t that simple.”

“You can’t exactly advertise.”

“Do you know anyone trustworthy?”

“I might,” she hedged.

That meant she did, but was reluctant to introduce us for some reason. I wasn’t going to push.

“Do you only want the girls today or do you want me to come too?”

“Just them. You are a beast. I want to evaluate those girls first. I’ll see if anyone knows how to fight with an Axe. You might have to go to SCA or something like that.”

“Who?”

“A bunch of Medieval wannabes. They get together and fight with ancient weapons and armor.”

“See who you can dig up. If not, I’ll try them.”

“I don’t like you taking kids in those Portal things.”

“I don’t exactly like it either. We need to get a whole lot better before I will let us go further. I plan on playing it safe.”

“Humph.” she didn’t believe me. With reason. We hadn’t exactly played it safe so far.

The Terrible Trio had their winter coats on and were waiting for Nancy to come out of my office.

With a chorus of ‘Byes’, they piled into her minivan and headed to the gym that Nancy and the rest of her Precinct used for training.

I got some rare work done on a quiet Sunday. Ever since I met those girls, Sundays had become lively. The last run scared me. Kate admitted that she had to heal Jude for five more days after returning home from school and at night, while the concussed girl slept. Only on Friday, did her healing not activate on Jude, meaning that she was perfectly healthy only then.

Worrisome, since Kate’s own wound looked so much worse and had healed in just a few days. Nancy had some excellent recommendations for better gear. She told me about reinforced motorcycle outfits. Their external pads could be switched out and the whole thing had a Kevlar lining.

They weren’t cheap, since the outfit was all parted out, but that was what the professionals used in racing. They weren’t the only ones, as gangs had long since started using cheaper knockoffs, along with the all-too-easy-to-get thin standard Kevlar vests which came in all sizes and thicknesses now.

I took her advice and ordered a set for me and one for the girls to try on. Their body types were all very similar. Same weight, height, build, even their chest sizes were near identical. Maybe a cup separated Nat’s As (I suspected, ) from Jude’s fuller Bs. They were all on the small end. Malnutrition had taken its toll through the years.

In the last couple months, I noticed a slight filling out of the hips of Kate and waist of Jude, with my help. I knew they were eating better than ever. (Mostly, from my larder.) The complaints of their clothes not fitting had only recently started taking weight.

Another shopping trip was in the works. I’d have to word it as an early graduation present. Their armor too. The healthier and safer they were, the better off I would be.

At 2:20, three very tired teens stumbled through the front door, bringing me out from my seclusion.

“I’m going to die.”

“Me first.”

Kate wordlessly stumbled by me and headed for the shower. She went straight to her room to sleep after rinsing off. The other two didn’t even bothering to shower. I figured I’d get the rundown later and returned to my project.

Nancy had already pulled out of the driveway before I could question her.

“I hate footwork.”

“I hate her.”

“zzzzz.”

Ah, Footwork must have been their first lesson. Kate didn’t seem like she was going to wake up anytime soon.

“Nat.”

“Huh?”

“Can you drop the pizzeria two days a week? Nancy wants you three to go to the Gym with her. She thinks you have potential.”

“Can’t afford it,” she replied without opening her eyes from my couch.

“I’ll pay each of you a hundred dollars a week to go to Nancy’s gym and learn how to fight.”

“What?”

“Why?”

“The better you three are, the safer it is for all of us. What happens if there are three ghouls next time?”

They looked at each other and shuddered. Two were bad enough. Jude suffered a major concussion and Kate had a chunk of flesh bitten out of her shoulder.

“What happens when the numbers of zombies doubles? We know it will eventually.”

“I get it. You don’t have to pay us. We aren’t dumb.”

“I just don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

“You suck. What days?”

“Monday, Tuesdays and Thursdays from four to eight.”

“Okay. I suppose that you will be paying for that too?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Thanks, Jase,” Jude interrupted her friend.

“Thanks, Jase,” Nat echoed. None too pleased.

“Let sleeping beauty know. Oh, your training starts tomorrow.”

I heard a ‘fuck’ in the background as I closed my office door. I wasn’t surprised.

Nat couldn’t have it both ways. I prioritized safety. I could probably clear floor two by myself, if Kate just stood in a corner and healed me once in a while, and she would feel like she contributed. The other two Needed to be involved. That increased the danger to them, especially when the ghouls were involved.

Natalie missed the first two sessions with Nancy. She couldn’t get anyone to cover for her at work.

Wednesday, the armor arrived. The pants were too tight in the legs and too loose at the waist. I would need custom-tailored ones. Same with the jacket.

I wasn’t too surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised.

Both Kate and Jude tried the woman’s armor that I bought, Kate loved it. Jude was a bit uncomfortable. She needed a wider range of motion in the shoulder area. After some discussion, we agreed that a triangle cut out at the back of the shoulder would work. “At least it’s better than that bulky jacket you make us wear now.”

It was.

Those skin tight suits also looked damn good on them. That was a thought I kept to myself.

I ordered three more fitted sets for them, and I went to a seamstress for three larger sets for me. Kate offered to sew it, but I wanted a professional leatherworker, to see if they could modify it. The larger size would give the seamstress room to play and the extra suits were in case she made a mistake.

The seamstress that Nancy recommended could, but it would cost me a fortune.

Thursday, I delivered the armor to the gym for Kate to use while training. She said she needed to get used to wearing it while moving. I agreed. Practicing in pads, I felt offered superior training, at least in terms of my body learning what I could and could not do with the added restriction on the football field. Hopefully, the uniforms would not be too restrictive.

When I handed off the outfits to the girls at the gym, Nancy sent me off to a Dojo across town. She had found someone to help me. The evil grin warned me that the training would be painful.

I paid our silver tax at the police station on the way to Kyle MacRoy’s Brutal Dojo. The Scottish lass, carrying two beers in each hand on the sign, added a certain something to the atmosphere.

Mr. MacRoy wore a T-shirt and a Kilt. He was the caricature-sized Scotsman from the cartoons, but didn’t have even a partially-affected brogue, his accent was pure midwestern. Or lack of accent, we Midwesterners, didn’t believe we had accents.

The north wall of his dojo was lined with real weapons. From claymores to fire Axes to K-bars. The man had a good variety.

The fifteen men and women in his small converted abounded warehouse were striking rubber wrapped dummies with staffs. I received an appraising eye on entry, while the instructor rudely kicked at his students’ feet to move them while lecturing.

I felt comfortable. He reminded me of all too many of my old football coaches.

“Are you Jason Blakely?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Call me Kyle. I heard you want to learn the Axe.”

“I hope you can help me, Sir.”

“You have one of those Weapons, right?”

“Yes.”

“Let me see it.”

I brought my Axe out from my inventory and passed it to my instructor.

He whistled, “can you use this thing at all?”

“Some. I feel that I am pretty decent with it, but know I have a lot to learn.”

Handing it back to me, “see that 4x4 over there? Cut it in half.”

He had a four-foot tall brace to hold the 4x4 in place. There were a few side by side. Only one had anything braced inside. That was my target.

I chopped twice on the right and twice on the left, making a wedge on both sides. The fifth easily cleaved the post through.

“Your stance is not bad for chopping wood. But against people, you are a sitting duck.”

“That’s what I’m here for sir.”

Like the girls, I learned footwork in my first session. Unlike the girls, I was used to training. Agility drills were nothing new to me.

Kyle MacRory gave me his dojo’s prices and class availability. Expensive, but I felt that I needed his help, and that he would be worth it. Chopping zombies was easy, even the ghouls weren’t too bad. The Orcs were a lot harder to fight, and the Orc boss was a pain. I felt that two Orc bosses might be more than I could handle right now. They were also smarter. If a second one decided to sprint after one of the girls, while the first engaged me, I feared for the consequences.

The girls had a long weekend coming. A half-day Thursday and full day off for Friday, the third week of April. Teacher maintenance or something similar. They joked that all the teachers should be ‘fixed’.

We were going to do another Green run that weekend, since we could do an Indigo any weekend.

I did ask Nancy about that other person for our team but she refused to let us talk to them or give up any names. Again, I didn’t push.

Our fourth Green run was decent paced, despite the fact that every hut now held three Orcs, one male and two females.

The Terrible Trio were more aware, and I had become better at blocking and antagonizing (‘aggroing’, in game terms) one of the two females while engaging the male.