Everything had mixed up into a headache inducing mess of heartbeats, lip smacks, farts, and footsteps that built up till it felt like a railroad spike was being driven through my head. Slowly too.

  This was not my first beetle ride-not the first time my senses fought each other to be the loudest. Being a hybrid child brought with it unique challenges growing up. I did what my father and mother taught me when I hit puberty. I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing. I focused my mind to a point sharper than obsidian. With my mental knife I cut down the information being filtered into my brain till it was manageable. The information my senses brought me were still present of course, but by cutting back all the noise that resembled a massive ball of thistle, I was able to give myself room to breathe.

  that dirty dive, had strongly believed that the best ideas and communication one could have was when their mouth was full. A belief given to her by her father. In practice, it worked wonders. If you had to stop to chew and swallow that means you wouldn’t be able to interrupt or talk over anyone who was speaking. As you chowed down it gave you precious seconds to listen, digest what you’ve heard, and properly think of a response.

  Now I wouldn’t say it always worked perfectly. There was always one fool who shouted, spitting his stew all over the table and his chest, without a second of thinking before he spoke. A system dealing, especially one dealing with people, that worked ninety percent of the time was a damn good one in my book. It was then easier to know who to tune out because their clothes and face were always covered in half chewed food.

  Parting the canopy flaps my nostrils were assaulted by the succulent scent of grilled rockroach meat, fresh charcoal bread, grilled nopales, racks of sauced up sand hopper legs, and a big pot of a hearty smelling stew. My tongue flicked out to capture each of the scents automatically causing my stomach to stir from a quiet purr to a mighty rumble.

  Beastmen were like humans in most of the ways that mattered. We just came in more varied shapes and sizes. An important aspect, however, was beastmen always had larger appetites to satiate. Not to say that we couldn’t survive off smaller, “human sized” portions. Our metabolism would just make short work of it, even shorter when physically exerted, then our bodies start burning our fat stores like we owed it money. Thankfully, even in an apocalypse ruined world there is still the bounty of nature to be found by those who know where and how to find it. The primitive animals that we resemble may have enjoyed chowing down on each other, but the first of the beastmen were quick to realize that continuing in that manner would lead to the demise of everyone. Instead, they quickly found large mutated insects, arthropods, and arachnids slapped them on a grill and divvied them up. Turns out the flesh of fellow beastmen, or even humans, paled in comparison to the taste and nutrition provided by a sand hopper, cave spider, or rockroach just to name a few.

  My ears flicked to catch some quiet, squeaky voices of a badger and some kind of rodent beastmen that ate together off to the side.

  “D-did you hear what happened to Salttown?” the rodent squeaked out with his eyes darting around suspiciously. It was a testament to his perception that his eyes scanned over everyone in the kitchen tent, yet failed to notice my eavesdropping.

  “No do tell?” the badger said in a shockingly light voice. I hadn’t realized she was a female.

  “I heard from Phil the dishwasher, whose half brother from his dad’s side, Wil, works as a courier. Wil was delivering letters from Phil to his sister, Fil, in Barrel. Fil is dating this skunk who knows a mechanic, Tim. Tim was working on a truck of a traveler who was blabbing on and on, swearing on the fur on his hide that Salttown was destroyed!”

  Oh shit the naming convention of that family needs to be given an award for absurdity. The last bit the rodent spoke was a bit louder than he wanted since he resumed scanning the room again and again missing me overhearing the entire conversation.

  “Rodents.” I said with a mental sigh.

  “S-so what? Nothing special really for the wasteland. Must’ve been a r-raider attack.” The badger could hardly stop herself from visibly shaking as she spoke between spoonfuls of her meal.

  “That’s the thing! The traveler swore that it was destroyed by a flood. H-he said it was like the sky was torn and out came more water than he’d ever seen in his life. He said he had barely made it out thanks to his ol’ wagon. That’s why he was at the mechanic. He had pushed her engine hard to escape the waves.”

  “You are daft if you believe that tall tale, Bill.” the badger hissed at the poorly named rodent.

  “I swear to you Mae. I swear on my own hide as well. Fingers crossed. Ears down. Trap shut. The traveler swore that he witnessed Salttown and everyone in it be washed away like it was a speck of food on a plate. Angry angels he says were what split the sky. He even showed the mechanic shells not like those old dried fossils you can find everywhere. These, the mechanic said, had live critters in them still. I think he said they were something called oy-oyters. Not sure if that bit is right though.”

  I tuned out their silly bickering on how to pronounce Oyster.

  Salttown was a village that, like the name sake, had carved massive blocks of salt out of the dried coast. The ocean was long gone, having disappeared a century ago, when the world fell. No one really knew where it went. Everyone had their crackpot theories.

  God let down a great straw and drank up every ocean because he was thirsty. That was my favorite theory concocted by a mole who was afraid of the dark and had a bad habit of standing in the sun till his brain cooked in his head.

  Most assumed it had to do with a great war fought by the humans. A weapon of incomprehensible power caused the ocean to sizzle away like spit on a hot stone.

  Behind me my tail flicked out a rattle. I was tense. It was clear as the desert was hot. Something big was happening. The stone that rested in my pocket felt heavier than an anvil at the moment.

  Ms. Robot Voice had mentioned the System was coming, but she said it was slow.

  Well at least she made it sound like it would be gradual. With everything that has transpired and the days of traveling the exact words she used escaped me.

  An entire town being washed away was anything but gradual. Here I had assumed that there would be more and more Awakened till everyone was one once the System arrived. My “guide” failed to explain that there would be global changes with its arrival.

  I scratched behind my ear. In her defense, I hadn’t exactly been a good listener at the time. In defense of myself. I have never been a good listener.

  “Horst, are you okay?” Benny’s soothing voice eased me from the curious thoughts that had entrapped me.

  “I’m right as rain, gorgeous. A mess of thoughts got the better of me you know how I get.” I gripped her soft, strong fingers that had slunk between mine.

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  “Don’t I know it hun. Now finish your food.”

  Doing as I was told, I paused the line of thinking that had frozen me up and focused on stuffing myself with two bowls of Mudcricket stew, a loaf of warm bread, and four big, greasy Rockroach steaks. While I engorged myself, Benny and her top men talked back and forth over camp logistics, scout reports, and updates on ongoing missions.

  I tuned most of it out. I picked my fangs with the sharp points of my claws till the conversations wound down. Afterwards, Benny walked me to her rustic, minimalist tent where she slept.

  “Hope you found that as mentally stimulating as I did.”

  “It was.”

  “Really? Is that why I saw those pretty eyes of yours glazed over while you picked your teeth?” Benny undressed as she threw her burning accusations and teasing.

  I followed her lead and got into my birthday suit. “Yes that’s right.”

  “If you say so, Wolfie.” she teased and planted a firm kiss on my forehead. ”Now that we have some privacy. I want to know what you are planning.”

  I laid down on a double wide sleeping mat that looked too clean to have not been brought in at some point while we were having eating. “What makes you think I am planning something?”

  Benny looked at me with her lips pressed tightly together and her brow dropped down to her nose bridge.

  “Okay. Okay.” I relented. “I don’t have anything planned out, but I damn sure want to know why that backstabbing weasel wanted me buried by a mound of lead.” I pulled out the stone that had been idle in my coat pocket. “We both know it’s written plain as day he wanted me dead because of this thing.”

  Benny took the stone, giving it a good look over. It was incredibly unassuming. It was a bit smaller than a chicken egg, the color of sandstone, and perfectly spherical with silver lines running from pole to pole all around it with even spacing vertex each line. It looked strange, but it was so small and just felt like any rock in the palm of my hand. For what is apparently a powerful artifact gifted to this world by some vague race of trans-universal robots that can allow an intelligent race to awaken, before this “System” arrived to awaken everyone to, to give them a valuable headstart.

  The value of what this stone provided was obvious. Hell, even the knowledge of what was to come was worth plenty. The question I needed answered now was how did the Mayor of a backwater town know this stone would be there?

  Benny handed the stone back to me then let herself fall back onto the mat next to me. I dropped the stone back into its pocket and left my coat where it lay on the floor of the tent.

  “You’re gonna need to put the mayor down. Go do what you’re good at, handsome. It does none of us any good for you to have a bullseye on your back. Aside from the usual ones that is,” Benny said with a yawn into the back of her hand. She laid down with her back toward me not needing to say more.

  “I figured as much.” I replied, lying down and wrapping my arms around her. She had always enjoyed being the little spoon even though she has a foot of height on me.

  I spent the two weeks preparing for my journey to Blackstone to collect my “reward” for a job well done. There were some words I also was dying to exchange with the noble, honest man. Benny’s camp was situated in the midpoint between the Badger’s former hideout and Blackstone. It would only take two days, if the weather remained fair, for me to arrive, three or four if the desert decides to throw a sandstorm at me.

  Benny had chosen this spot deliberately to better coordinate with multiple jobs taking place in nearby locations. Word around the camp is that there is a strange uptick on bug raids decimating smaller towns and farms all around the area. For Benny, it meant business is good. For the common beastman, and human, it meant lives and livelihoods lost.

  Too many dots were lining up making one ugly picture.

  Sigh. I’m sorry, Marie. I have not forgotten what I owe.

  At the start of the third week Benny said goodbye to me with a back-breaking hug and a wet kiss that sent my blood into a frenzy. She had always preferred to be a hands-on leader. Her path led her South and mine took me East.

  “Make your parents and I proud. I better not find you with a chest full of lead again,” were the last words that she left with me.

  I promised I’d meet up with her back here in a week's time. And I meant it. My brush with death reminded me of the importance of companionship. At least that is what I told myself, but I knew I just missed her. Her and everyone else who I hoped was doing well in this messed up world.

  Wherever they are.

  Geared up in a new, clean outfit, brand new pack, and the weapons of choice I always gravitated to, a lever action shotgun, lever action long gun, a heavy revolver, and a razor sharp kukri I set off toward the rising sun.

  Those boys did good work in clearing out the more aggressive bugs since I was able to walk for an entire day and night without a single disturbance. The few bugs that my ears and nose picked up were docile and minded their business. Radroaches dug burrows under large rocks. A herd of Sandstriders, basically overgrown Daddy Long Legs, journeyed across the sands headed north likely to some hidden oasis only they knew of.

  On the second day an overconfident, young Stone scorpion had its life cut short with a slug between its many eyes. My blade made quick work of its tail which I secured to my back with some spare rope. It would fetch me a pretty penny when I made it to town.

  As the sun began to set on the second day, the bustling town of Blackstone came into view over the horizon. It was not the largest town, not by a long shot, but it always had something going on even this late in the day. The clay buildings stacked four, even five stories tall, every building equipped with lighting and indoor plumbing. Electricity was plentiful thanks to the geothermal plant that employed much of the town’s men. A hot bath was a luxury and it was one I partook in frequently when able to. The town also came with the added protection of a thirty foot wall made from clay bricks and steel rods. A former lover of mine was as maniacal about structural engineering as she was attractive and she was very attractive. It was a unique, but enjoyable combination. I couldn’t help but recall the late nights she’d keep me awake with her endless ramblings about the history of the town, the composition of the clay used to make the buildings, and the fantastic wall that kept the city safe.

  A glance at my old watch told me that it was half past nine. The city guards will have closed down the entrances by now in preparation for the night shift. Night was slightly more dangerous than day, but most of the danger came from the inability to see some of the speedier creepy crawlies. Like the Demonhorned Great Centipede, a bug that could grow to be twenty-five feet long and moved like the wind. It used to crawl over the wall like it wasn’t even there till a savvy engineer made the suggestion of carving vertical grooves in the outside of the wall and smoothing them down. Without solid footing they were made swiss cheese by the riflemen that manned the wall.

  “Howdy, is James there?” I shouted as I closed in on the front gate.

  There was an audible commotion as the night guards hurried around. A familiar human face popped out from an opening in the wall.

  ”Ai, who is asking at this hour?” called out James. He must still be sober to be sounding so sour.

  “Your sister’s lover!” I called back.

  “M-my what?!” He stammered in shock then the recognition set in. “Oh Horst, you flea-bitten, scraggyly haired mutt, get in here already so I can give you what I owe you! Open the damned gates you nitwits!”

  Before strolling in and getting within swinging distance of James I quickly pulled out a prepared gift for my old frenemy. A flask of Jagermiester, almost all that man drank and a bundle of saltwater taffy. He had refined tastes, but thankfully were not too difficult to find.

  Another favor I owe that hunk of beef. I ought to find something nice for her while I’m here…