Alex drove until the sun dipped below the horizon.
The endless gray road turned orange, then purple, then black. The only light came from his dashboard—flickering, unreliable, like everything else in the Winnebago.
He pulled off onto a gravel shoulder and killed the engine.
Silence.
No crickets. No wind. No distant traffic. Just the ticking of a cooling engine and his own breathing.
He sat there for a moment, hands still on the steering wheel.
Twenty-four hours ago, he thought, I was delivering packages in Chicago.
Now he was on an alien highway. Seventy million others somewhere out there. A blue screen living in his vision. And a unique skill he didn't fully understand.
He pulled up his system screen.
```
[User: Alex Chen]
Level: 1
Vehicle: Winnebago Brave 1978 (F-Class)
Next Level: 100 credits
Perk: [Legendary Perk Awakening] – Next available at Level 10
Credits: 150
Inventory: Fuel Canister x1, MRE x3, Basic Tool Kit
```
Level 10. Nine more levels to go.
He didn't know what a Legendary Perk looked like. But the system called it "unique." That meant something.
Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow I hunt for more crates.
But first—
His stomach growled.
He tore open one of the MREs. Brown pouch. Something that claimed to be "beef stew." It tasted like salt and regret.
He ate it anyway.
---
Alex woke to a tapping sound.
His eyes snapped open. Dark. Too dark. The RV's interior was pitch black.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Someone—or something—was outside.
He reached for the tire iron. His fingers found it on the floor beside the bed.
Tap.
He moved to the window. Pulled the curtain back an inch.
Nothing.
Just the empty road. The gravel shoulder. The black silhouette of a dead tree fifty yards away.
Tap.
Behind him.
He spun around.
A face pressed against the driver's side window.
Pale. Gaunt. Eyes wide and white.
Alex's heart slammed into his ribs.
The thing smiled. Too many teeth.
Then it knocked again. One long fingernail against the glass.
Tap.
Alex didn't think.
He grabbed the keys. Slammed them into the ignition. The engine coughed—come on, come on—and caught.
He threw the RV into gear and floored it.
The tires spun on gravel. The thing on the window screeched—a high, thin sound like tearing metal—and fell away.
The Winnebago lurched forward. Alex didn't look back.
He drove for ten minutes. Twenty. His hands were shaking.
When he finally checked his rearview mirror, the road was empty.
```
[System: Threat avoided – "Asphalt Creeper" (Level 3)]
Reward: 25 credits
```
Alex let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Level 3. He was Level 1. If that thing had gotten in—
He didn't finish the thought.
---
Dawn came slowly.
Alex pulled over again—this time in the shadow of an overpass. No trees. No cover for anything to hide behind.
He stepped out. His legs felt unsteady.
The road stretched ahead. Same gray asphalt. Same endless horizon.
But now there was something new.
A glow. Maybe a mile ahead. Faint. Bluish.
He pulled up his map.
```
[System: Rare Supply Crate (Blue) detected]
Location: Abandoned gas station, 1.1 miles ahead.
Survivors in area: 4
```
Four people.
And a blue crate.
Alex looked at his fuel gauge. Fifty-two percent. His tire iron. Three MREs.
He looked at the glow in the distance.
Four against one, he thought. Stupid odds.
But he needed that crate. Needed the credits. Needed to hit Level 10 before something worse than a Level 3 Creeper found him.
He got back in the RV and drove.
---
The gas station was a skeleton.
Pumps with no hoses. A convenience store with no windows. A roof that had collapsed inward like a broken spine.
And parked out front: four vehicles.
Two sedans. A motorcycle. And a modified school bus with armor plating welded to the sides.
Not random survivors, Alex realized. Organized.
He killed the engine a quarter mile out and approached on foot.
The blue glow came from inside the convenience store. Through a gap in the wall, he could see it—a metal crate, seams glowing, sitting on what used to be the counter.
And around it, four figures.
Three men. One woman.
They weren't fighting. They were working. One was checking the locks. One was standing guard. One was talking into a radio.
The woman was writing something on a clipboard.
This isn't a random group, Alex thought. This is a crew.
He backed away slowly.
Too late.
A twig snapped under his foot.
The guard's head turned. Their eyes met.
"Hey—!"
Alex ran.
Gunshots behind him. Bullets kicking up dust at his heels.
He dove behind a rusted fuel pump. The metal pinged as a round ricocheted off it.
"Who the hell is that?" someone shouted.
"Doesn't matter. Kill him."
Alex's mind raced.
Four against one. Open ground. No cover.
He looked at the fuel pump. Looked at the RV in the distance.
Looked at his system screen.
```
[Inventory: Basic Tool Kit]
```
An idea.
He pulled out the tool kit. Found a wrench. Jammed it into the fuel pump's release valve.
Gasoline started leaking. Spreading across the ground.
"Come out, come out—"
Alex pulled a lighter from his pocket. Flicked it once. Twice.
A flame.
He tossed it.
The gasoline ignited. A wall of fire erupted between him and the crew.
They screamed. Shouted. Backed away.
Alex ran.
He didn't stop until he reached the RV. Didn't look back until the gas station was a tiny dot in his rearview mirror.
```
[System: Escape successful.]
[System: Rare Supply Crate lost.]
```
He slammed his palm against the steering wheel.
Lost it.
Four people. A blue crate. And he had nothing to show for it but a lighter and a bad idea.
But he was alive.
And he had learned something.
On this road, the strong travel in packs.
Alex tightened his grip on the wheel.
Then I need to find my own pack.