I suddenly had an uneasy feeling about what might be at the center of this area.
“I see the stairwell,” Donut said. “If you zoom out the map, it’s right on the edge of what we can see.”
Sure enough. In the area immediately south, and presumably in the center of this giant loop, there appeared to be a stairwell. I hovered over the white square on the map, and it simply read Stairwell to Floor Two.
I didn’t see any other blue dots or anything else. Just the empty expanse of the fog of war.
“Look, there’s something written on the ground,” Donut said, pointing down the left hallway.
After a minute’s hesitation, I stored the chopper, and we went toward the sign on foot.
“This road is safe. We are gathered a mile and a half this way. DO NOT go deeper into the spiral or you will activate the borough boss.”
Shit. Mordecai had said the bosses wouldn’t be guarding the stairwells until the fourth floor.
“I wonder what’s in there,” Donut asked, looking at the solid wall to our right.
Just as she said it, the wall rumbled as something rushed past on the other side. It was like we were standing on a train platform. Whatever it was, it was something fast. Something big.
Very, very big.
We walked on foot. After about a quarter mile, a rounded portcullis appeared on our right, leading toward the center of the circle. The cross-beam gate was lifted about halfway up the floor. We’d be able to slip under and go deeper into the loop if we wanted. There appeared to be another ring just inside. The graffiti had called it a spiral. Looking inside, I could see another doorway just down this wide, interior hallway. So it was more like a round maze than a spiral.
If we slid under the gate, it would no doubt slide closed and trap us.
“Let’s wait a second,” I said. “I want to see what it is.”
We didn’t have to wait long. The creature, whatever it was, rushed by in a flash, too fast for me to get an info box. It rolled like a ball. It was pink, fleshy, and it was the size of the entire hallway. It was like a nightmare Pac-man monster. It made a terrible grunting noise as it rocketed by, shaking the walls. The stench of sewage wafted up as it passed.
“My heavens,” Donut said, crinkling her face like I’d tried to feed her vegetables. “This is going to be unpleasant.”
22
“Let’s see if we can find who’s making these signs,” I said.
We passed three more of the rounded entrances before we came across the encampment.
It was a full quarter turn from where we started, at the end of another artery. My heart swelled when I saw the sheer number of people there. There were about forty blue dots gathered at what appeared to be a drawbridge leading into the round maze.
My enthusiasm waned when I saw the manner of people waiting for us.
Almost all of them were still level one. And they were elderly. Not cool grandpa dude at the club elderly. But holy-crap-I-love-you-gam-gam-but-how-the-hell-are-you-still-alive elderly. Most of them were in wheelchairs. Those who weren’t had walkers. Most were in robes and caps, and piles of blankets littered the hallway. They sat gathered together. Most appeared to be asleep.
Another older woman stood apart from the group. This one was pushing 70, not 100 like the others. She stood stiffly, her black eyes watching us. This woman was wrapped head to toe in an endless amount of scarves, and her skin was like a relief map of a shriveled prune. A red checkered trapper hat with ear flaps sat skewed on her head. She leaned on a shopping cart filled to the brim with blankets and other odds and ends including a plastic pink flamingo that had an arrow stuck in its head.
I remembered the stairs I’d had to descend, and I wondered how they’d managed to get the wheelchairs and shopping cart down here.
I caught sight of a group of younger, more able-bodied crawlers. One of them, a chubby black guy, saw us approach and waved. He came jogging up.
“Oh thank god,” the man said. “Did you see our signs?”
“We did,” I said. I examined his properties.
Crawler #12,330,671. “Brandon An.”
Level 6.
Race: Human.
Class: Not yet assigned.
He had a single bronze star by his name. The man wore a heavy winter jacket despite the heat. He had a gigantic hammer looped over his shoulder. The weapon was comically big. The round head was almost as wide as the tire on my Chopper. It glittered, obviously made of some sort of magical, lightweight metal. He didn’t appear to have any other armor or gear.
“We?” the man said, frowning as he examined my properties. He took a hesitant step back, as if he was startled. “Is there more than one of you?” He looked down at Donut, and his frown deepened.
For a moment I was afraid that I had received a skull next to my name without realizing. But then I remembered what my real title was. It didn’t say my name was Carl. It said I was Royal Bodyguard Carl, and Donut was Grand Champion Best in Dungeon Princess Donut.
I could only imagine how that looked to someone meeting me for the first time.
Another man approached, this one was Chris Andrews 2. He was also level six. The two men were clearly brothers. He was taller and less stocky. Chris wore a metal skullcap but didn’t appear to have any weapons.
“Yes we are we,” Donut said. “I mean, really. I am right here. Rude.”
Chris and Brandon just looked at each other. Then Brandon burst out laughing.
“I’m sorry man,” he said to me. “I didn’t realize. I saw your name, and I thought…”
“Yeah,” I said. “You thought I was a nut. She talks. She also probably has higher stats than anybody else here.”
Brandon went to a knee and patted Donut on the head. She looked simultaneously outraged and thrilled that he had touched her. “Well it’s nice to meet you, Princess Donut. I’m sorry if I offended you, pretty girl. I’ve never met a talking cat before.”
“It’s quite all right,” Donut said, mollified. “Apology accepted.”
We walked back toward the group. Despite what I had seen earlier with the goat corpses, it appeared there were only four people here in fighting shape. Both Brandon and Chris were level six. A round Hispanic woman—Yolanda Martinez 13—was around fifty years old and only stood about four foot 11. She was level five and carried a bow and had a quiver hanging over her shoulder. The quiver was so big on her, it almost dragged on the floor. She was in medical scrubs, and she wore a plastic ID on her breast. It read “Meadow Lark. Yolanda. CNA.”
The fourth was another woman carrying a longsword. She, too, wore scrubs, though she also wore a magical cloak. Her name was Imani C. I guessed the woman weighed about 90 pounds, if that. She looked to be about 20 years old. Her terrified, hollowed-out eyes suggested she had seen some shit.
All four of them had a single bronze star after their names.
Imani also had skulls.
A lot of skulls.
On the interface, it was one big skull followed by two more regular ones. When I hovered over it, it said Crawler Killer X 12.
She was also level 10, the highest we’d seen so far.
Donut: CARL IT IS ANOTHER VILE MURDERER.
Carclass="underline" I don’t think so, not this time. Also, I know you don’t have to type in all caps. I’ve seen you do it before. It makes you sound like you are yelling.
Donut: I AM YELLING CARL.
“We are the night staff at an eldercare facility in Wenatchee,” Brandon was saying after I introduced myself to the others. Yolanda greeted me with enthusiasm. Imani said nothing. “We had a fire alarm and were forced to go outside because someone,” he eyed the woman with the shopping cart, “started a barrel fire outside our building and caught it on fire.”