Crouched inside her old, dirty, one-person tent, Marie had never felt more grateful.
Ignoring everything else, she went straight for her rucksack.
Not the contents, but one of the two litre canteens tucked in the side pouches. She’d spurned them before but now she unscrewed the cap of the closest in hurried silence and guzzled down sweet mouthfuls of the cool, refreshing liquid.
Just like when she’d been pulled under in the well.
For a moment she began to choke and pulled the bottle away, the water in her throat and her memory mixing, but in desperation she clamped a hand over her nose and mouth and forcibly contained the convulsions and spluttering.
When she’d regained her composure, she controlled her urges and took small sips until the worst of her craving had been quenched.
As soon as one need was met, another rose to preeminence, and Marie found herself unclipping the main compartment of her backpack and rooting round for the emergency supplies they’d all carried on the dig.
Twenty seconds later she sat back on her knees, eyes closed, mouth moving in slow mechanical motions.
Nutrition bars had never tasted this good. Hell, nutrition bars had never even tasted of anything much before. And Marie wasn’t someone who cared overly much about food.
She’d practically inhaled the first one, but took her time savouring the second.
Not too much time though.
In the shadowy interior of the tent it would have been easy to forget about the outside world, had it not been for the intermittent scuffing and scraping of bone on cobblestone outside.
But she’d made it. And she’d found her reward.
The only question now was, how long she risked staying here, and how she was going to get it all out.
Reasoning that the tent was still intact, and therefore the undead must not have had any reason to destroy it, Marie decided she had time to tend to her next most pressing need.
She had to dig through the rest of the rucksack: her toolkit, toiletry bag, flannel and wet wipes, loo roll (thankfully that hadn’t been necessary up till now), spare clothes and underwear, spare work gloves, more food - being rationed for later, prescription sunglasses and sandals - entirely unsuitable for this environment no matter what state her current eye and footwear were in, her small bag of coffee beans, a pair of binoculars, duct tape, a box of matches she’d forgotten was in there, and finally, the object she’d packed right at the bottom, assuming it wouldn’t be needed at all.
The first aid kit was small but compact, and it had almost all the items she wanted in it.
Gritting her teeth, she cleaned the worst of the grime from the wound in her arm with a wet wipe, brushing it away as gently as she could, before stripping off her shirt and tending to the one in the back by feel alone. And she could certainly feel where it started bleeding away as the removal of the shirt tore the scab it had partially fused to.
Antiseptic wipes, followed by a gauze wrap around her forearm dealt with that as best she could, but once she’d carefully brushed what she could reach on her back with the antiseptic wipe, she couldn’t figure out how to get a bandage in place.
It would have to be left open.
At least now she could put on something clean. She stripped naked with a sense of relief, taking a few precious wet wipes to clean the worst of the filth off her before donning a fresh set.
It was like being wrapped in a cloud.
For a moment she considered her old clothes. They were badly soiled and torn in places, but they’d seen her through a lot. And they could be washed and repaired…
She put them in one of the waterproof bags she’d taken for dirty laundry or delicate artefacts, and put them right at the bottom of her backpack where the first aid kit had been. Not before taking out the ancient pouch of coins though. She was in cargo shorts now; tough, and with more handy pockets than the jeans, even if they only came down to her knee. The pouch went in one pocket, and she shoved a few useful items in the others. A pocket knife, some of the remaining snacks, a headlight on a strap in case it got really dark all of a sudden.
Before she packed the first aid kit away she took out two more essentials: a couple of Ibuprofen, which she took with a mouthful of precious water, and a pack of blister plaster, which went straight on the sores on her feet.
It took her a quarter of an hour to repack everything she’d taken out of her rucksack. Mostly because she was trying to do it in silence, but also because she could take her time.
She deserved a few moments to herself as she put it all away, even if she couldn’t entirely ignore the shambling outside.
Once she was done, she turned to the rest of the equipment in her tent, and considered the tent itself.
With the lack of rain in this place, she could survive with just her sleeping bag and ground mat if she needed to, but she didn’t intend on staying in the city of the dead for long.
The empty wine bottle was useful only if she found something to put in it, but the full one that had rolled up against the side of the tent went into the rucksack too. There was room.
The canteen went back in its pouch. Her personal toolkit was already packed away though she’d left her thick gloves out for now, tucked into the waistband of her shorts.
A thick rope was coiled in the corner. She considered it for a moment before tucking it into the straps on the hood of the rucksack.
Her mess kit wasn’t here. She must have left it by the campfire the night before she’d arrived here.
She stared into space as she wondered what the others would think. To them, she must have completely disappeared. Unless they’d all disappeared. She wondered for a moment if they’d all come to this place, and prayed they hadn’t.
That thought made her remember one of the reasons she’d wanted to come back to the tent, but it wasn’t large and she’d gone through it almost entirely over the past half an hour. She hadn't seen any…what. Rip in reality? Some kind of wormhole? Evidence that Billy had put acid in her wine?
A darker thought occurred to her, but surely if this was that place there would be more fire and brimstone. Besides, she hadn’t been a bad person. Had she? Even if she didn’t believe in all that religious stuff.
Practicality reasserted itself.
Wherever she was, whyever she was here, she had to deal with it. And that meant being as prepared as possible.
She went to put on her jacket, which had until now been rolled up, serving as a pillow in her sleeping bag, and revealed the thing that had been hidden underneath it.
Her smartphone, still attached to the solar charger.
She lunged for the device and scrambled in silence to turn it on.
The screen flickered to life - almost full battery!
Keying in the passcode she flicked the screen up and went to the first contact in her phonebook she could think of.
Dad.
Not wanting to risk speaking with the undead so close outside, she typed out a quick text.
-
Papi
-
I am lost. I do not know where. I was in Tunisia and now I’m not.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
-
It sounds crazy but there are things here - skeletons that walk.
-
I’m injured but I’m recovering.
-
I don’t know how to get back.
-
Please, help me.
She went to attach a location pin.
The map failed to load.
She tried to send the text.
No service.
Her hands tightened round the phone.
Of course there is no service. Why would there be?
It had been a desperate act. Deep down she’d known it would fail. But she’d had to try…
… just in case.
Turning the screen off, she put both phone and charger in her pocket and set to work rolling up the sleeping bag and ground sheet, securing them to the outside of the rucksack.
When it was all done, everything was packaged up perfectly. Even the empty wine bottle tucked into the webbing. Just as it should be, ready for her to sling on her back and carry for miles if needed. She was almost beginning to feel normal. Hopeful.
The only question was how to sneak herself and the actual tent away without bei-
An alarm went off.
For a second she couldn’t work out what it was.
Then her pocket began vibrating and her heart dropped at the realisation.
Wherever she was, and whatever time it was here, her phone clearly disagreed.
She’d turned it off before she’d gone to bed, tipsy and not wanting to be disturbed, but now it was switched on, her phone thought it was her normal wake-up time, 8 am, and it was intent on reminding her. Loudly.
—
Marie burst out of the tent, rucksack on her back, eyes half closed, face turned to the side, screaming.
[Bonebreaker Charge]!
Three skeletons that had been lurching for the tent flaps were sent flying, bones scattered to the wind as the young woman, accompanied by a piercing alarm, leapt up and began running.
This was it.
One hand snaked back to grab the lip of the tent as she sprinted away, full under the effects of her [Adrenaline Surge].
Without the guy ropes fixed in the ground, it lurched and stretched, ropes and pegs snagging on the rubble and detritus they’d landed in, and then buckled to the strain and began to be dragged behind her like the world’s worst sail.
Marie managed a hundred yards before she was forced to let it go, caught on an outcropping of shattered stone, or risk being mobbed by the skeletons that were homing in on her location.
With both hands suddenly free, she fumbled for the still-blaring phone in her pocket and flicked the alarm off as she ran.
In the sudden quiet there was only the sound of her sucking in lungfuls of air, and the clattering rattle of the thousands of undead beginning to shamble after her.
She didn’t stop until her [Adrenaline Surge] ran out. She didn’t need to worry about getting lost. Even in her mad dash, [Precise Cartography] gave her a mental map of everywhere she’d been, and by the time she’d blown down two dozen streets and across half as many rows of tumbled-down ruins and rubble, she’d lost any signs of pursuit.
She massaged as she gulped in more air, trying to get rid of the stitch that had formed in her side in the last minute or so, seeking cover.
She wedged herself in the remnants of an abandoned alleyway between two houses and took stock of her surroundings.
Her position was vastly improved, in many ways, and with that came a sense of confidence.
“I’m not dead yet. All of you are, but not me. You’re not going to get me; you can’t have me.”
The pep talk steeled her resolve, and she began to plan.
“First, I’m getting everything back. Then I’m going to go back to the house. Then I’m going to rest. And after that, I’m getting out of here.”
She’d left the tent behind, but she’d also left her trusty spade - tool and improvised weapon both. There hadn’t been a way to carry it with her disguise, but she remembered exactly where she’d left it. Thanks to [Precise Cartography].
But she couldn’t go back until the undead mob had time to disperse, otherwise she’d be in no better a situation than she had been when she fled.
From what she’d seen so far about their behaviour, she estimated it would be an hour before they all shambled back to their square. Maybe two, just to be safe. In the meantime…
This part of the city - east from where she’d been, closer to the outskirts - seemed marginally more intact. In that some of the structures here still had roofs.
That held marginally more promise for a young archaeologist seeking answers, so she began to look around.
She spent the next couple of hours picking through the wrecked buildings, and made a couple of discoveries.
It seemed to be a civilian quarter, or perhaps where crafters had lived, as she began to find a few more examples of broken crockery and some bent, tarnished metal bands she suspected might have been jewellery. There were glass beads too, or perhaps they were made of a semi-precious gemstone; her [Basic Appraisal] Skill thought they were worth something. But the most significant find came from when she scraped away at the floor of one of the more intact houses.
She stood in the wrecked shell and glanced around, then checked the street outside to ensure it was safe.
When she was certain none of the undead were close at hand, she retrieved her toolkit from the rucksack and scraped away at the accumulated detritus on the floor with her trowel, before brushing a section of it clean. The first thing she found were some iron nails, likely from a door, but as she continued she began to uncover the corner of an intricate mosaic that made up the floor of the ruined building.
She spent almost half an hour uncovering it bit by bit; not the entire floor, but the section that wasn’t so covered by rubble as the rest.
An intricate geometric pattern ran round the edge where it met the wall, but as it moved in towards the centre of the room Marie found the most interesting pieces - there were elements of oceanic life: fish and crustaceans, though she didn’t recognise half of them, their appearance was clearly aquatic. There were humanoid figures too. And sailing vessels, or the parts of them she could uncover at least. Had this once been the home of a fisher? Or a fishmonger’s shop?
Delighted at her discovery, she nevertheless reigned herself in from pursuing it further as the gloom outside deepened.
She was tired, if not so weak now, and she still had to retrieve the tent and spade. She resolved to return to this place before she left the city; it was on the way out anyway, and before she’d searched this building and found the mosaic, a few streets to the south east she’d seen something that had really captured her attention.
From this close she was sure. It was a mansion of some sort - a villa perhaps. Definitely larger than the ruins of the townhouse she was going back to. More intact too, though still mostly destroyed as far as she could tell from here. Some of the rooms looked like they were still standing though, and that made her feel an excitement she hadn’t felt since coming to this place.
That was where she might find something out about what this place had been. Who its people had been. What their lives had been like.
That was the kind of thing she studied history and archaeology for.
Even in this dark place, with all her wounds were still aching, that excited her far more than any film set in Tunisia could have. There were real questions here, and maybe real answers to be found. If there was a chance to investigate before she left, she’d take it.
She snapped a couple of pictures of the mosaic with her phone to study later and gathered up her things to leave. After she’d double checked the alarm was off.
—
It was ‘night’ when Marie trudged back into the ruins of the townhouse, though her Skills made her passage silent.
It had taken longer than she’d liked to return to the vicinity of the marketplace she’d fled from and retrieve the tent and spade. For one thing, she’d had to fold the tent away whilst squatting behind a wall only a hundred yards from the milling hordes of skeletons. Fortunately she’d only had to take out a couple on her way, and she was now fairly confident her [Swift Blow] took between ten minutes and a quarter of an hour to… recharge.
But she’d done it.
Despite her noiseless approach, the skeletal canine, still chained to the wall, seemed to sense her come in, and its restraint gave a soft rattle as it got up from where it lay and padded over, bones clicking softly on the hard earth, to the limit of his domain.
“Hey doggie.” Marie glanced round the dead garden to check there was no danger.
There wasn’t, and she spotted the items she’d left exactly where they’d been.
After a slight hesitation, she dropped the tent and spade, and approached the undead hound, stooping to pat him on the head.
“Good… boy?” She examined the chain and collar. A deal was a deal.
There was a clasp on the collar, but the chain itself was attached with a simple hook, a latch keeping it closed.
“So they had springs then, your master’s people.” She said as she fiddled with the age-stiffened mechanism. “Metal ones, and quite small. That is fairly advanced. Roman era equivalent or later. Organised military, significant cities with an order to them - though I have not seen how the sewage system worked, if there was one. Art. Pottery. Domesticated pets.” She nodded down to the dog-like thing, which sat grinning at her. “Clearly an advanced culture. What went wrong?”
The metal latch broke off with a ping as the device jerked in her hands and Marie cursed reflexively before realising that it hadn’t broken the skin.
“Well, that is something.”
She tensed as the skeletal dog shook itself, then leapt to the side, then jumped up at her, with all the force of a chihuahua, head bobbing and tail wagging so hard she was worried it might come apart.
It didn’t though and she gave a quiet laugh.
“You are not so bad are you. Go on. Be free.”
Either the hound understood her, or it had grown sick of being in the same courtyard for millennia, and it raced round, eyeless sockets searching every which way, before darting out of a hole in the ruined wall and loping off into the distance.
Marie sighed.
Time to rest.
With a groan of relief she removed her rucksack and set it down next to the sword and copper pot of pottery fragments with a clunk.
Then she frowned.
That hadn’t been the sound she’d expected.
Digging into her rucksack, she pulled out her toolkit once more, and then dug into the ground, trowel scraping carefully at the surface layer of dead and blackened soil until the structure beneath revealed itself.
A wooden hatch, Square. Three feet, two and one eighth inches on each side according to her Skill.
Besides the spears, it was the only wooden object she’d come across in the city, but it couldn’t be fragile - she’d been standing on part of it before she’d realised its size. That was one instance where her [Silent Steps] must have worked against her.
Reaching for the handle at one end, she pulled, and with brief resistance, the hatch opened.
A fluted metal pitcher hung on a hook a handsbreath below the opening, and below that… Marie swore.
“That was there all this time?”
The same size as the opening above, and just as deep - a stone cistern full of water lay beneath the onetime garden.
Marie looked at it, then took her canteen and downed the entire contents.
There were some water purification tablets in her supplies, just in case, but that was a task for tomorrow.
[Fighter Level 9!]
[Scholar Level 6!]
[Skill – Preservation Touch gained!]
[Skill – Glimpse of the Forgotten gained!]
[Explorer Level 8!]
[Skill – Stretch Rations gained!]
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