Otto squatted behind the empty husk of a car. Anything useful had been torn from the vehicle, and now it was nothing more than exposed wires, flaps of upholstery, and corroded metal. Some years ago Otto watched as a man named Eddy was attacked by a pack of thugs on this very corner. They stripped off his clothes and slashed his naked flesh with chains, laughing, while Otto crouched, staring, from behind this very car. Otto had been traveling with the man for and had found him likable enough, but arrogant. He'd walked to Rivertown from Prairieville and felt that made him pretty tough. Not tough enough as it turned out.

Otto had wanted to jump in but he had no weapons and the men were younger, faster, meaner. Otto'd be one more dead fool face down on the road. Otto hated having to watch, but he'd learned that often the best way to avoid attention was to sit still. When Eddy stopped thrashing they dragged him away. That was the last Otto saw of him.

Did those killers still live around here? As Otto scoped out the tumbledown buildings looking for any sign of movement, Jackal skipped past him, snatching his wool hat as she passed. "Damn it, girl," he cursed as he forced himself up to chase after her.

She ran backwards grinning as she eluded him, glancing over her shoulder to skip around broken chunks of concrete littering the road. She'd streaked her eyes with soot again, even though Otto asked her not to. It made her look like a crying devil. Otto lunged but she nimbly danced to one side and he fell, sprawling on the pavement.

Jackal stopped and sulked. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Otto scowled. He'd lost some skin on his palms but, much worse, he'd torn a hole in the right knee of his trousers. The blood welling beneath was a secondary concern. It was only a matter of time before he snagged the pant leg on some junk and it would tear even worse. He carried a sewing kit he'd found but the pants were so threadbare they wouldn't hold a stitch. He grumbled, wiping his hands against his coat as he rose.

"I apologize," Jackal said and rose on tiptoes to peck his cheek. Though he would never admit it, that small act went a long way in earning his forgiveness. He always let such infractions pass quickly from his mind, fearful of driving a wedge between them. They had made a good team so far. Her youthful exuberance helped him feel young, and he shared tips for surviving in the wreckage.

"C'mon," Otto said tugging her to the alleyway. "It's not safe here in the open. I once saw a man—"

"Look at that," Jackal said and bounded away toward a hole in a wall of one of the buildings. She said over her shoulder, "The front's boarded up but I bet I can squeeze through here."

Before he could cross the street she had already shimmied through a narrow horizontal opening between two boards, disappearing into the void.

"Come back!" Otto called after her.

"Shush. Be my lookout" she said from the blackness.

Otto circled the building cursing, searching for another way in. He whisper-shouted her name through every crack in the wall and strained his ears but only heard the the wind. The sun had set and it would be dark soon. What if she found someone in there? What if she fell, or something fell on her? Otto's mind raced through horror scenarios as he stood, helpless.

"Otto," her voice came at last, like an angel's from above. He frantically looked around. "Up here!"

A thick rope dropped at him from a second-story window, nearly hitting him in the face as it jerked. It had large knots spaced every few feet, perfect for climbing. "Come up," Jackal said, beaming down at him. Then she disappeared.

Otto's back muscles cried out as he pulled himself from the ground. At the top, he threw his legs over the sill, panting. Jackal stood at the entrance of a hallway covered with ancient graffiti. "Bring up the rope," she said quietly.

She led him past three offices, all clearly ransacked, to a larger room in the front of the building. In the fading light Otto saw a hunched form leaned against the wall, head tucked beneath knees. Jackal started in and he clutched at her arm but she shook free. "Pretty sure he's dead," she whispered.

"Or sleeping?" Otto whispered back and glanced down the hall. "He might not be alone."

Jackal slinked to the man and raised his chin with her toe. The body leaned to one side and then slowly slid to the floor. "I win. He's dead. But ew, Otto. He puked on himself."

Otto studied the gaunt, noname corpse, sad for his fate yet somehow sadder that it didn't seem to phase Jackal in the slightest. The dead man clutched a plastic bag containing several black pills. Otto pried it from his grip and jammed it in his coat pocket. In the man's satchel he found jerky, a jug of water, and six cans of food. "There's a week's worth of food here. What a waste. His loss."

"Whatcha gonna do with that rundown?" Jackal asked impishly.

"Bring it to the swap," he answered. "Trade it for food."

As he fixed their evening tea, Jackal sat cross-legged happily gnawing on a piece of jerky. Otto thought about this girl, too old be his daughter and too young to be anything else, and how she seemed to be immune to the horrors of the world she'd been born into. He though about that fact and what it meant for the future, if anything at all.

 

This player asked that we not publish the transcripts and correspondence from his gaming sessions and we are complying with this request.

Sincerely,

Bryce Barren
Trent Hergenrader
Game Masters & Site Editors