119: Refuge (Patreon)

“You own it all now, so might as well take a good look,” Gorman said as he led Roland down a staircase, well hidden inside a utility closet.

It was Wednesday afternoon. Roland and Dahlia had cleared three more Dungeons; all three had high time compression rates (between ten and twenty times faster than on the outside), so after clearing them they had spent some quality time together.

As it turned out, killing monsters by the cartload put them both in the mood for life-affirming activities after they were done. Was it healthy? Probably not. Did Roland care? Not very much.

The rewards had remained underwhelming. Trixie explained that pre-Integration Dungeons would remain weak. The first one had been boosted beyond normal limits. The System’s reasons remained unknown. Trixie’s guess was that it had been testing Roland. He had passed and gained proportionate rewards. Now, he was basically ganking trash mobs, for little to no rewards.

During the same morning, the rest of his original team had split up into three parties and helped induct twenty more people. The newbies included Bob’s brothers, Rick Kowalski from Red Trails Gun Range and his wife Deborah, and assorted other members of the Acosta clan or their trusted friends or employees.

Nobody had gotten hurt too badly, and everyone had gained Uncommon or better Classes. Roy Delgado, the owner of a self-defense studio, and four of his students had all become Cultivators, all of them with Uncommon Body Cultivation Patterns and Adequate to Excellent Configurations.

Roland planned to use his Danse Macabre book to help them refine their Pattern further. He spent an hour before lunch walking them through meditation and aura development basics, repeating what he’d learned at the Chapel. Hopefully that would put them on a good path of advancement. He would take a break from Dungeon clearing and train with them the rest of the day.

He still hadn’t found time to work on his own cultivation. Hopefully that would change soon.

“Bob had mentioned a bunker, but I thought he meant something like a fallout shelter,” Roland said as lights came on. “This looks almost as big as the main house.”

“It is a shelter, and not quite as large as that. The main house above covers eight thousand square feet, three floors, six bedrooms, eight bathrooms. The underground structure is about four thousand square feet. Four bedrooms, two bunk beds apiece, sixteen beds total, could squeeze twenty people in between those and the storage space, if they don’t mind the close quarters or sleeping on pallets. Two bathrooms. Ferroconcrete construction, highly resistant to gamma radiation, not that rads are going to be a major concern in this situation.”

“I sure hope not,” Roland said as Gorman walked him through the facility. LED lights provided illumination.

The bunker’s inner walls were painted in an off-white color. The floor was tiled. The ceilings were lower than in a normal structure – about seven feet high, giving it a claustrophobic ambiance, and the corridor was also a little narrow. They’d probably done it to save money or reduce the time to build the place.

The bedrooms and bunk beds were decent enough, but nobody would enjoy being cooped in there for weeks on end. There was a kitchen, all the appliances electric and powered by solar panels outside, and a storage room with an industrial freezer. Most of the supplies were freeze-dried rations and MREs, though.

“I normally keep on hand three months’ supplies for twenty people. Got a second well to a separate aquifer. Solar panels for power – can deploy three times what we already have on the roofs – and a thousand-gallon propane tank. It could supply the entire property with power for about a week, more if we ration usage.”

“Surprised you were able to build all this without getting an inspection.”

“Rural areas like this have a lot more leeway. And I did get permits; they were for quote ‘basement renovations’ unquote,” Gorman explained. “Got more permits for a few home additions. All of which I made. I just padded the budget for labor and materials and used the extra down here. The contractors were all people I can trust. In fact, two of them just got their Classes and the rest have an invite to come visit. With the code-word Postman, so they know this isn’t a joke.”

“Good. Hope they hurry.”

“Yes. A lot of people already know the situation is spiraling out of control, even if they don’t know the cause. My contacts tell me a lot of VIPs have gone on vacation. Sudden, unplanned vacations to undisclosed places. POTUS is allegedly making an unscheduled visit to Cheyenne Mountain.”

“The rats are jumping ship before it sinks.”

Gorman nodded. “For all the good it’ll do them, unless they have tokens. The way your Guide tells it, a bunker will do you no good if monsters can spawn inside.”

“That’s right. Which is why I’m going to set up the Safe Zone now.”

Roland had accumulated forty-one tokens so far. More were coming; everyone they inducted had signed a System contract to turn in their Safe Zone Tokens in exchange for Upgrade Tokens or high-value gear. In a perfect configuration, those would be enough to cover fifty-five acres.

The politics were going to be interesting going forward. All the Ascended in the new Zone were primarily loyal to Gorman, except for Roland’s team. The contract would keep Gorman from throwing his weight around, but Roland didn’t expect the smooth sailing he had enjoyed so far would last forever. He would need to pick his political battles carefully – and make sure he won all of them.

Roland shared his map with Gorman and centered it on the house above them. He expanded the map until it covered the entire plot of land: seventy-two acres in total.

To begin with, he placed enough tokens on the virtual map until they covered all the buildings: main house, pool house, a ‘shed’ that was in reality a medium-sized warehouse, a hothouse, and a six-car garage occupied by four Cybertrucks, the Humvee Roland had borrowed, and Gorman’s personal Crown Vic.

How high and deep does a Safe Zone go? Roland asked Trixie, who had been a mostly silent companion over the last couple of days. She seemed to have a lot on her mind.

She answered Roland’s question instantly and projected her voice to include Gorman. <The depth and height of a Safe Zone reach three hundred feet in each direction, plus three feet per adjacent Token. In this case, it will reach four hundred and twenty-three feet.>

“That depth is good enough to reach the two aquifers under the property,” Gorman said. “That gives us a secure water supply, although it may not be enough to provide for everyone.”

<After Integration, there will be options to enhance water sources or even create new ones. The less work the System must do, the cheaper those options will be.>

Covering the built-up areas took fifteen tokens. Roland used the rest to include a sizable portion of the meadows surrounding them and the private road, also including the wood lots that might provide cover and concealment for hostiles.

Above them, a dozen of Gorman’s guests were hard at work, setting up inflatable shelters. Gorman had twenty of those: each could sleep up to fifteen people in emergency conditions.

They were readying ten of those to begin with, more than enough for the sixty-odd people expected to arrive within the day plus the forty-six already there. If someone asked, the tents were for a big celebration at Gorman’s house. Since they were temporary structures, the local authorities wouldn’t bother them.

“We’ve gathering plenty of supplies,” Gorman said, looking at the hex arrangement over his land. “And Kowalski’s older son is driving a semi loaded with his entire inventory at Red Trails, as well as the inventory of his other gun store, and his personal stash.”

“I’m glad we’ve covered the basics,” Roland said, rearranging some hexes to include the two gates leading out of the property. “How are people taking it so far?”

He had been too busy to get a good feel for the increasing population of what would be his Zone.

“I had to massage the news to make it easier to swallow,” Gorman said. “They knew Postman meant certain collapse of the existing order. If they didn’t believe that was likely, they wouldn’t have come in the first place.”

“Makes sense.”

“As new folk arrive, I’m giving them personal demonstrations so they know I’m not talking out of my ass.”

“Have you mentioned the Rapture Protocol yet?”

Trixie had explained the Rapture Protocol to Roland and Gorman over breakfast. The news hadn’t gone over well.

“At least thirty families are going to be affected,” Gorman said, his expression grim. “Of the eight people I’ve talked to this morning, they took the news as well as could be expected. Knowing in advance will soften the blow, especially if they know that it’s a temporary situation.”

“Yeah, I imagine it can’t be easy.”

“You’d have to be a parent to really know what it’s going to be like.”

The System planned to spare children from the deadliest phases of Integration. Its solution was equal parts cruel and compassionate.

“It helps with logistics,” Gorman went on. “But that’s about the nicest thing you can say about what the System is doing.”

<The System isn’t kind,> Trixie told them both. <It has close to zero concern for individual lives, let alone their happiness. If it has a goal, something which even greater beings cannot agree about, it is the survival of humankind throughout the universe.>

“Above my pay grade,” Roland told her. “I’m concerned about the survival of people in my personal universe.”

“Sounds about right,” Gorman agreed. “Which is why I’m turning everything I own over to you. I think you’ve got what it takes to get us through this.”

And you think I’m an adrenaline junkie who will likely die soon, leaving you in charge.

Bob had shared Gorman and Fred’s conversation, along with his assessment. Roland agreed with it. Still, even if something killed him, Gorman would be bound by the terms of their contract.

His uncle was above all a practical man. He could be trusted to run the place and keep everyone in the Zone alive, as long as they followed the rules.

Bob would help keep his uncle honest. And keep an eye on his father. If Fred Acosta had been in charge, Roland wouldn’t have made the deal. He didn’t trust the guy as far as he could throw him. No, not even a tenth as far as he could throw him, because he could probably fling him across a basketball court, the long way.

All the hexes were placed. The end result didn’t quite cover fifty-five acres, but it ensured that the temporary housing was protected and that there was a comfortable cleared buffer around them.

“Here goes,” Roland told Gorman as he mentally activated the tokens.

You have placed 41 contiguous Safe Zone Tokens.

Do you wish to form a Safe Zone containing 41 Tokens?

“Yes,” Roland said out loud.

Select a Name for your Safe Zone.

“Refuge,” he said.

They had discussed the name and settled for something simple and honest. A refuge against the insanity falling upon the entire world. It was a start.

There are almost two hundred thousand people in Litchfield County, Roland thought. All we have so far is a tiny island in a sea of monsters and desperate people. And we don’t have the infrastructure or resources to help more than a small fraction of them.

It was easy to sink into despair when the magnitude of the looming disaster became apparent. But that would achieve nothing. Less than nothing.

Congratulations! You are the Territorial Lord of Safe Zone Refuge.

Lord Abilities and Duties will not be determined until Integration Phase One begins.

Current Population: Undetermined. Demographic data will not be available until Integration Phase One begins.

You have named a Viceroy: Gorman Acosta. Viceroy abilities and Duties will not be determined until Integration Phase One begins.

Monsters are unable to enter Safe Zones until Integration Phase One begins.

Congratulations! You are the 988th Exemplar to found a Safe Zone. You have unlocked an Achievement: Master of Your Domain (Rare).  

“I guess I didn’t break any records,” Roland commented as he and Gorman read the notification.

“I think the System just made a Seinfeld joke,” Gorman said.

“Did it? Sometimes weird pop culture references show up in System messages, especially Achievements. Not sure if it finds them in our minds or knows enough about our culture to make fun of it.”

“Probably both. Not going to be easy, living under an entity with absolute power over our lives.”

“At least it has rules,” Roland said. “Even if people can find loopholes or cheats.”

“We are on the ground floor. It’s a long way to the top. But at least there is a way to the top.”

“It’s going to be quite the climb,” Roland said, thinking about the Dark Towers.

*

The conversation turned to more practical matters. Outfitting Refuge’s Militia, for one. There were plenty of guns available, but they planned to outfit official militiamen with a standard loadout.

They even had a cavalry arm, consisting of Gorman’s four Cybertrucks, with another six arriving by Thursday.

“I have Fred’s boys working on putting hardpoints on the Cybertrucks,” Gorman said. “A fifty-caliber is a bit much to mount on them, so we’re going for Mark 48 machine guns, .308 caliber. Your teams have collected enough Upgrade Tokens to get them to Rare quality.”

“Not bad.”

“I just wish we could predict what kind of tricks the upgrades provide. It’s been a crap shoot. Two Mark 48s have infinite ammo and don’t overheat, one has neither of those but can hurt ghosts, and the last one shoots flaming bullets that do extra damage; it doesn’t overheat but needs ammo to work. Not exactly standard issue.”

“The System likes randomness. Best way to get something close to what you want is to do rituals. Significance also plays a big role. A gun that means something personal to you will be more powerful and aligned to your needs than something you picked up at the local sporting goods store.”

“Magic, sorcery. Some of my people will call it witchcraft and won’t have anything to do with it.”

“Sell it to them as alien tech gussied up to look like magic. To bamboozle the natives.”

“Is that true?”

“No idea, but it sounds good, doesn’t it?”

They shared a laugh over that. “Yeah, that might work,” Gorman conceded.

Roland had seen too many things that went beyond anything he knew of science to buy the explanation he was peddling. He just didn’t have the time or inclination to convince people who thought using Skills went against their religion.

People who refused the System would become victims in short order. Roland had spoken with his friends, and they all had noticed they could overpower normies just by talking to them. Superhuman Charisma could influence people without the need for mind-control Skills.

Roland suspected that his Charisma had played a big role in convincing his gang of his crazy story. He was glad that he and Dahlia hadn’t started anything until her stats were closer to his. Otherwise, he would worry that he had influenced her choice.

And that’s just people talking. The damage even a low-level Classer can do with his bare hands is insane. Regular humans don’t stand a chance.

Trixie had warned him that the System would respect people’s choices. If someone refused to be inducted on Integration Day, they would stay normal. If they changed their mind later, they would have to kill a System creature (or person), or find someone with a Skill that let them induct normies.

Gorman’s Commander Class would let him do just that, although the Skill (Induct Mundane) would only become active when Integration kicked off. It would come in handy in the dark days ahead as people realized that rejecting the System was a death sentence.

<Don’t forget about crafters,> Trixie told them. <Once you get a few of those, they can produce multiple copies of the items you need.>

Gorman nodded. “Kowalski is a gunsmith and we’re bringing in a few others. And I have George looking up some hobbyist blacksmiths for recruitment. People who make medieval weapons and armor. They may turn out to be as useful as firearms in the long term.”

Roland thought of his naginata. “That’s very likely. Guns aren’t going to have their normal stand-off capability, even upgraded. Serious monsters are almost impossible to kill or disable with single shots.”

“Volume of fire should take care of that.”

“Possibly,” Roland conceded, although he had some doubts.

They went upstairs and then walked outside, where dozens of people were hard at work. Three inflatable shelters had gone up. As Roland surveyed the area, he spotted two trailer trucks coming in, bringing a bulldozer and an excavator. A U-Haul truck followed them.

Construction materials had been arriving since Tuesday. The entire Acosta family was on the move, at least the Connecticut, Rhode Island and Massachusetts branches.

“We’ll have three hundred people here by the end of the week,” Gorman said. “By then, the town authorities will begin to ask questions.”

“I doubt they’ll be in a position to do much by then.”

Roland checked the doomsday clock. He’d been doing that compulsively, and every time the timer had run faster than it should. The latest jump startled him:

Time to Integration (Phase One): 113 hours (plus or minus 72 hours).

The deadline had moved up by almost a hundred hours over the last day.

Roland had been too busy to check the news. What little Bob had shared was bad enough.

The situation in Hartford was escalating. Two HPD detectives had gone missing on Tuesday, along with at least a dozen more people. The governor was considering activating the National Guard; the mayor had ordered a curfew for the city.

And that was just local news. Brooklyn had three massive fires that consumed entire building blocks since Monday. Blurry video of those disasters showed humanoid figures that appeared to be made of flames running around and even attacking firefighters. The chaotic clips were posted all over social media. They were dismissed as AI-generated slop.

North Korea was throwing a civil war. A peasant rebellion in the interior had somehow overcome an armored division sent to quash it. Roland suspected that Exemplars were involved. Probably Cultivators fresh from the Chapel, thirsty for justice or vengeance.

China had quietly begun to mobilize as rumors of unrest in various provinces leaked out. Riots were shaking Paris. Then again, riots in Paris weren’t all that uncommon, so maybe that was just France being France.

Roland couldn’t believe how quickly things were deteriorating. Watching the people busting their ass to protect this corner of the world, he silently prayed that their efforts would be enough.

“Roland!”

It was Mandy. She had emerged from the shed-slash-warehouse, where she had been doing inventory. Her experience as an administrative assistant was paying off, and she had insisted on contributing.

Which was good, because nobody was being spared except the very old and infirm – and that would change when Integration fixed most of their problems. This was an all-hands-on-deck situation.

Gorman stepped away, heading toward the tent-building teams to lend a hand. All Ascendants could now do the work of three or four normal humans. Roland had helped unload three trucks so far, acting like a two-legged forklift.

“Hey,” he told his sister as she all but ran toward him.

“Elle finally texted me back. I called her and we talked for a bit.”

“What did she say?”

“That weirdo, Hugh, is crashing at our apartment with her. She didn’t sound happy about it.”

“Did you tell her to come here?”

“I did, but she doesn’t believe me.”

“Look, Mandy...”

“I know you’re busy, Roland. But this is Elle. She took me under her wing when I started grad school. Without her, I would have crashed and burned.”

“What do you want me to do? Drive to New Haven and drag her here?”

“I’ll do it myself, then. Lend me your car.”

“You hate driving,” Roland told her as he considered the situation. “And I’m not sending a normal human out there.”

“That’s your fault for not taking me with you to get superpowers.”

“I’m trying to keep you safe. Okay, let me see what I can do.”

All the Dungeons within twenty miles of Gorman’s place had been cleared. That would keep the area safe enough.

He could count on Bob, Barton, Josh, and Wendy to keep the Zone safe. They all had hit level eight or nine. Roland hadn’t leveled up yet, but he planned to advance to fifth level and Tin 5 before Induction. With over four thousand Essence to his name, he could do it easily.

“I don’t know if I can justify a three-hour trip just to get Elle,” he said. “If she could catch a ride with one of the Acosta employees in New Haven, that would be great.”

“She probably won’t listen to them. I just thought she would listen to you.”

“She’ll believe us after I play some card tricks in front of her,” Dahlia cut in, Bloodykee in tow.

Whenever she wasn’t in their – formerly his – room, she liked sticking by Roland’s side. She didn’t like public displays of attention, which suited him, because he really didn’t either. But she liked to be around all the time. So far, it hadn’t reached annoying levels. He had plenty of other things and people willing and able to annoy him.

“We should go,” Dahlia went on. “In all the rush after kidnapping my parents, I forgot a couple of people I don’t really want to die.

“There’s Ben; he was in Bob’s game, but they didn’t like each other, which is why Bob left him to rot while the rest of us got power leveled. And Cynthia is really smart and a practicing Witch! I bet she gets a kickass Class if we help her out.”

“Okay, three people to rescue,” Roland said, and then cursed himself. “Four. We don’t really talk, but Javier Gutierrez from my old unit lives in New Haven. Haven’t seen him in two years. He lost both legs in an accident after he left the Army. He has no family and next to no friends.”

“A potion can heal him up, right?”

“A Rare would. Missing limbs take a lot of over-healing, but that will do it.”

He and Javier hadn’t been best buddies or anything, but leaving him in New Haven to die wouldn’t be right. Roland mentally kicked himself for all but forgetting the guy.

“How about Hugh?” Mandy asked half-heartedly.

“I remember Elle talking about him. He sounds like a net negative. Unless you can make a good case for dragging a film major back to the Refuge, I think he can take his chances in New Haven.”

Mandy looked down. “I really can’t.”

“Well, there you go. I’ll borrow the Humvee. I can’t leave until tomorrow, though. I’m going to spend the rest of the day training Cultivators and hopefully putting in some training myself.”

“And I’m going,” Dahlia said. “I’m not leaving you alone with your ex.”

“Don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust her. You’ve gotten too irresistible.”

Roland rolled his eyes. “Fine. You can come along, Dahlia, but you’ve got to keep Bloodykee under wraps. Let’s not advance the doomsday clock.”

“Kee,” the Fiend said in an agreeable tone.

“Aye aye, Captain Death,” Dahlia said, sketching a lousy salute with the wrong hand.

“I’m not an officer, I work for a living.”

“We all got the notification that you are the Lord of Refuge. And you’re a Reaper Lord. That’s two lordships. Which makes you nobility.”

“Sure. I’ll bring back Elle, Ben, Javier, and Cynthia. Let me talk to Gorman and square things away before we leave. Maybe there are some items or people I can bring from New Haven for him.”

“Thank you, Rollie,” Mandy said.

“She’s your best friend. I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

She hugged him. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between the two of you.”

“It happens. We’re just too different.”

Truthfully, Roland couldn’t picture himself seeing somebody like Elle after all that had happened between their last date and now. He glanced at Dahlia, who grinned wryly at him. His old self wouldn’t have pictured himself dating a goth with a disastrous love life, either.

Things changed.