Chương 53: Job Descriptions

"Doesn't it feel like we should be out there?" Wilson asked as the entire intern cubicle stopped working to check their phones. She had her hands behind her head, her fingers laced through her curls.

"Every morning I come in to work, I expect the orders to change," Megan mused.

"It's only Wednesday, but it feels like we've been reading these alerts for a month." Everyone in the intern cube nodded that they agreed. Earlier that week, Mormons in Utah used their numbers to swarm gates, closing them before crawlers could mobilize to do the same. Presently, they were targeting E and D gates, but most analysts believed that would change as their people leveled. In Oregon, crawlers protesting the CDM's lack of response to ongoing religious conflicts took over the capitol building.

We were on the second day of them refusing to let government employees inside, and city law enforcement couldn't do much more than ask nicely for them to vacate and then wait for the crawlers to change their minds. That standoff could go on for as long as the crawlers inside had food and water.

Texas, Mississippi, Florida, and North Carolina saw regular clashes between three groups: crawlers, the church communities some people called "doomers," and more moderate Christians who thought that doomers were deceived by Satan and that crawlers were saviors. But the CDM managed gates, not crawlers and definitely not doomers, so while these events continued to develop, we mostly sat by and watched. Other than trying to enforce gate rights against crashers, the rest of the conflicts were simply not our problem.

Under those conditions, business as usual at the CDM felt like seeing the house across the street was on fire and closing the blinds because we had vacuuming to do and the chicken breast needed thawing.

"At what point does the CDM give in and help?" Megan asked. Loman chuckled darkly. His topknot bounced in time with his laughs.

"What if such a point doesn't exist?"

"So, what, we're waiting for Congress to make us do something?" Wilson scoffed. Loman shrugged.

"Digging your heels in like this goes that way, right? I mean, I'll know I'm wrong but keep arguing just because I'm not man enough to admit it." Black turned to me, his chair creaking beneath his mass.

"Any rumblings from your old cult?" Wilson and Megan both frowned at that but didn't say anything.

"Nope," I answered, but that was a lie. I got two or three text messages a day that read like this:"Give us Beth's phone number. She's our daughter. It's not right for you to keep her from us."

"I'm praying for your soul. It's not too late."

"What will you do when they come for us? Will you let them kill your family and all the people who loved and raised you?"

"We cleaned all your stuff out of the house. If you want it, come get it by tomorrow night, or it's going in the dumpster." Changing my phone number was again a real consideration, but all the effort and headache that would require on my part–updating every user account and contact form in my life, basically–didn't seem worth it if all they needed to do was get the new number.

I was surprised they hadn't gotten Beth's, to be honest, but maybe she learned from my example to be more guarded about who she shared her number with, especially after my parents tracked her down to Milly's. My email pinged.

"Looks like we've got assignments," I said, standing from my desk.

"We're partnered again," I added for Wilson.

"Let's go get that dollar," she replied. On the ride to the first harvest inspection, Wilson grumbled as she looked out the window, "It's bullshit they're sending us out like this."

"It's the job."

"No, I mean while all this other shit is going on. I'm sick of saying, 'above my paygrade' or 'I wish I had answers because they don't tell me anything' every time crawlers corner me with questions." Wilson was right on this front. That sucked. While the higher-ups locked themselves away, the grunts on the frontline, like me and Wilson or the poor people who answered the helpline, absorbed the bulk of the abuse. At first, the reactions I received from crawlers were pity and understanding.

They knew that Intern Enforcer Gray didn't get a say in any of this, but that empathy rapidly faded as this stretched on. Where before we were unfortunate victims like everyone else, we became the targets for complaints and anger that the rest of the agency refused to hear. Walking onto a B-ranked harvest site in a city park, the looks Wilson and I received were unfiltered loathing. I had already braced for that. Not only was that the new normal, but this was a Mill Rat harvest site.

They seemed to be leading the charge in crapping on peons like me.

"Fuck," Wilson whispered.

"What?" But then I looked up and answered my own question. Martin Kielar's party was on their way out of the gate and spotted us immediately.

"I remember you," Kielar said to me, his usual party of upper-ranked crawlers following behind.

"How do the boots taste today?" Wilson attempted to go around. She didn't try pushing through the party. She literally picked a new path entirely, but Kielar went out of his way to block it.

"We're just doing our jobs, sir," Wilson said, looking down at the ground instead.

"The famous last words of traitors throughout history: 'I was following orders.' It's getting ugly out here, and the CDM is really going to sit on its hands?" Wilson shrugged. Kielar turned to me. I hated knowing that he was stronger than me. The gap between our power was so great that choosing not to hurt me at any given moment was a strange act of mercy. He knew it. I knew it. And it was as degrading as Kielar hoped it would be. This novel is published on a different platform.

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"You've spent enough time around me," he said.

"You know I'm a family man who just wants to do his work and go home. I don't want you to get hurt, but the more this boils, the more likely that the schlubs in the field are the first to get burnt."

"Thank you for the advice." He held my eyes for a moment, spit on the ground, and then knocked me out of the way to continue walking. Brennan Kielar was in the entourage. I hadn't noticed him before. He caught my eye as he passed with bags of gear in his arms and looked away the moment he saw me. He looked ashamed. Was this the way McDouglas predicted it would go? I planted the seed with Brennan long ago, giving him a path to come forward, and now it was like watching a riverbank erode.

If I was being optimistic, that is. I could have projected what I saw as his shame. I still felt bad for him, though. Yes, he was complicit, and if he was inside a gate when crashers got killed, he was guilty. Yet, I couldn't help but think of him as anything but collateral damage.

"I don't know if I'm going to finish the internship at this rate," Wilson whispered when the crawlers were gone.

"That guy could kill me by accident and not even notice."

"Let's get this done and get out of here." Wilson nodded.

"Stay paired up for this one? Seems safest."

"Yeah. We should stick together." I got to run three E gates that week. While I liked getting to flex my leveling progress, seeing how little ground I covered across thirteen hours of crawl time was disheartening. 147 XP in total from three E-ranked gates. That's it. I knew the numbers weren't going to change, but I couldn't help but check and recheck my XP several times a day. It always read: XP Progress: 405/3200 This was the slowdown everyone said to expect.

Though I knew it was coming, the halt was so abrupt that the seatbelt was going to leave a bruise that might never go away. The week wasn't all bad, however. Frank sold two bows and a hundred arrows because of his Dungeon Divas sponsorship. That sounded small to me at first, but then I remembered how expensive his bows were. Selling one of those was like selling a car. The results made Frank happy, and that was really the most important thing. As long as Frank was happy, Beth's apprenticeship was safe.

She seemed to fall more in love with bowyering each day, and seeing the way she grew along with her passion was sweet. I played a role in making her life better, and that was more gratifying than XP or a paycheck had ever been. The momentum on that front seemed to grow. View counts and channel subscribers were up, and Megan and I had our first hunting job that wasn't an EPA Site of Concern. The number we got from the man in the diner connected us with Michael Domonkos, and he very much wanted our help.

Domonkos owned roughly fifty square miles of Chestnut Ridge, a section of the Allegheny Mountains south of Uniontown. For most people, owning property outside of major cities wasn't the sign of wealth and prosperity that it was before the gates. The exception, however, was mineral rights. Clinging to family land deeds became a waiting game in those cases.

Whatever riches beneath the soil might be inaccessible now, but hanging onto the land for another fifty years when technology could get to it was an easy way to make a few million dollars. Unlike most of the landowners we read about, Domonkos seemed to have a true love for the mountains. He came from a long line of outdoorsmen and trappers, giving him a sort of reverence for the wilderness.

He probably still liked having the mineral rights, but his interest in keeping goblins from destroying something he loved was sincere. We agreed to drive out Saturday morning to meet him. The night before, I had pizza with Nathan and Megan in the apartment.

"How do you find one goblin nest in an area that big?" Nathan asked with a little marinara on his chin. Megan and I both shrugged.

"He promised to show us around the land," Megan said.

"He also knows we aren't wilderness experts, but he promised to teach us as we worked. That's how he's 'paying' us."

"Is he a fan of the Dungeon Divas?" Megan grinned.

"I'm ahead of you on that. He's agreed to sign an NDA." Nathan seemed pleasantly surprised by that forethought.

"Smart. What if he breaks it?"

"Probably nothing we could do," Megan admitted.

"A specific subset of our audience will be disappointed if the truth comes out about Dor." I scowled at that.

"I can't believe what total strangers are willing to say they want to do with me. It's insane."

"Welcome to being a woman on the internet," Megan said with a shrug.

"And I don't even send you the dick pics we get."

"Eesh." Nathan recoiled involuntarily.

"Dor has the perfect tomboy butt, apparently." I raised my arms.

"Okay, okay. Let's change the subject."

"How far from the CDM office are you willing to live?" Nathan asked.

"I've been poking around at listings." After a moment of thinking, I said, "That's a tough question. The way things are going, I don't know if I'll stay CDM. The channel isn't doing well enough to support me, so I'd have to get a different job, but man, work's been nasty." Megan nodded.

"If a CDM commute isn't a concern," Nathan continued, "that opens up our options quite a bit. Staying central to the city is out of our price range, but there's some stuff in Allison Park and in Carnegie that might work for us."

"Yeah? Like what?" Nathan reached for his phone and forwarded me a few links. If I squinted, I could see the appeal of an old newspaper building or a rundown Victorian mansion. None of Nathan's "potentials" were move-in ready. Not by a long shot.

"Uhh…" I began, trying to find the words.

"I know," Nathan said.

"They need some work. That's the only way we'll get something big enough for all of us, though."

"I don't know anything about construction and renovation." He smiled.

"That's why you got me, bro. As long as the bones are in good shape, we can fix anything else. If we run into something I don't know, I'm sure one of the guys I work with would help out."

"You're volunteering to fix up a whole house for us?" Nathan's unexpected laugh left him coughing with watery eyes.

"Absolutely not. There's plenty you can do to help without being an expert." After a pause, he added, "Seriously, though. If these ideas don't feel right, say so. I know the big family house is a pipe dream and won't be offended."

"I still support the concept," I said.

"I won't have the money to do anything about it for a while."

"That's true for all of us. That's why it's a goal. Who knows, maybe I'm a stay-at-home non-dad because you and Meg become internet famous."

"Non-dad?" Megan asked with a grin.

"Cat-dad or dog-dad are possibilities. If you'd like to submit an application." She laughed. I sent Nathan photos of Domonkos' property.

"If we're dreaming big and work commutes don't matter, something like this would be amazing. Look at how beautiful that is."

"Probably puts us out of the delivery radius for the food we like," Nathan half-joked.

"You're not kidding about the views, though."

"We'd have to goblin-proof and meth-head-proof the property," Megan said.

"Now that I say that out loud, dealing with the goblin half of that problem sounds like the easier part." I wobbled my head back and forth as I thought.

"I can talk to my friend at the DOH about how serious that problem really is. We found the one lab, but we've never run into anyone. Same is true of our hunts. Signs of people pop up, but no one has been attached to them. I also haven't done that many sweeps, all things considered."

"That's true."

"I'm in favor of this plan too," Nathan added.

"I support any plan that lets me retire before forty, really."

"Well, we're seeing it in person tomorrow," Megan replied.

"Could be we hate it." But we didn't.