Chapter 146: We’re going to get along fine

Chapter 146: We’re going to get along fine

Mason let Streak into the house after supper (and a fairly grumpy bath), and they all cuddled up on the couch and watched old movies on the settlement's digital storage system.

They ate popcorn, talked about their lives a little, but mostly just enjoyed each other's company in silent touch. It was the laziest, sexiest, best day of Mason's time in the apocalypse, and he was easily able to imagine what life with his girls could be if all the madness was over.

The idea was so wonderful he had to shut it down.

Not possible yet, and maybe not for a long time. Then he started to worry he was wasting time—that he should be out there trying to clear the corrupted trees, or find the imprisoned druid, or at least exploring more of the world. And he knew every hour and every day counted.

But he fought that down, telling himself he and the girls had earned at least one day to themselves, one day to be a family. Or whatever the hell they were.

"You look thoughtful," Haley said as she ran her hands through his increasingly long hair, his head in her lap. Rebecca was lying the other way, socked feet dangling over his hip.

"Today has been amazing," he said. "But tomorrow I've gotta get moving. And we need a command structure. I don’t know who the hell does anything or even who to ask."

Haley frowned. "Blake didn't really do that. We've run...well, more like a corporate office. I just take messages until he gets back. Though Hank is mostly in charge of the civilians."

"Yeah, well, that ends now. Far as I'm concerned this is a military outfit, and the players are in charge of violence. So I need a second in command." He wiggled Becky's feet. "Might make sense to be you, if you're up for it."

The cowgirl frowned and blushed a little. "How about Phuong? He's ex-military and smart and knows a lot about...well, everything. He kept us alive out there, before Nassau. You can trust him."

Mason nodded, happy with that. "I think I'll make him and Carl equals when I'm gone. It should work out. Everyone should have a rank and a role, all this grey area nebulous bullshit is stupid, but...well, we'll figure all that out when Blake gets back." He looked up to see Haley grinning at him. "What?"

"This suits you, you know."

"What does?"

"Being in charge."

He sat up and sighed. "No it doesn't. I hate it."

Haley laughed and rubbed her feet on Rebecca's in his lap. "Doesn't mean you're not good at it. I think Blake will agree when he gets back."

* * *

The girls did their routines then joined him in bed, then lay together in their pajamas with heads in the crooks of his arms. It had been the perfect day. He'd forgotten entirely about worrying for his brother, or leveling up to fight ever-increasing threats, or all the other likely terrible dangers of the future.

His luck stat, he decided as he lay there, was complete horseshit.

He wasn't sure what it should have been, but there was no chance that a score of seven could possibly result in his current circumstance. Had what he'd faced in this new world truly been so horrific to deserve these two amazing women in his bed?

The thought and answer sent a shiver down his spine. He felt some dark threat pressing in, some terrible misfortune just waiting to destroy him and any chance at happiness. A man's 'luck' may be very different indeed, depending how long you measured it.

He eventually came out with a scowl and a robe.

"I need you to be in charge of the town while I go with Phuong and Alex to clear a dungeon. It's time for them to get some more experience."

Carl instantly lost his anger and nodded. "I agree. Alright, well I'll tell Silvie when she..."

"Not Silvie, Carl. You. Players are in charge of Nassau. You can take her advice. You can talk to Haley and Rebecca and Seul-ki and whoever the hell else you want. But you're in charge, what you say goes, because I'm counting on you to protect this place while I'm gone. That’s your job, first and last. Understood?"

The older man stood a little straighter and nodded, the sleep clearing from his eyes. Mason clapped his shoulder and took out the map he'd drawn using Wayfinder.

"Good. I want you to keep things moving. Try new fishing spots, start patrolling wherever you think they make sense, look for survivors. If there's danger...use your judgment. The map's pretty detailed."

"Holy shit." Carl took it and blinked. "I'll say. How'd you do that?" Before Mason could answer he waved a hand. "Nevermind. OK, kid. I won't let you down. Er, again."

Mason smiled with some difficulty, knowing the man still felt guilty about Blake.

"I don't blame you, Carl. I trust you, and I know you did what you thought was right. Just get these lazy players doing something, alright? I'll see you in a few days. I hope."

The relief on Carl’s face was obvious. "I'd say the players are fairly busy after last night, but I'll do my best," he said and grinned.

Mason snorted then left Carl to go back inside, and he and Alex went to the gate and found Phuong waiting with not one but three packs of supplies. He winked and handed two over. Streak yapped and started sniffing after them before Mason pushed him away.

"Ready to pop your cherries, gentlemen?"

They both stared at him in confusion and he sighed. "Not everything translates. Let's just go. And I hope you've been doing cardio because I'm not going less than half speed."

"Not a problem for me!" Phuong yelled. Alex grunted in something like inevitable acceptance.

"I'm healer," he said in his thick accent, "not physical specimen like you."

Mason laughed. "Not to worry, I can carry you. And you can speak in your native language, you know, the machine translates."

"I don't trust," Alex said, kind of already huffing as they jogged.

"To translate?"

"At all, but yes. I don't want listening."

Mason stopped and looked at the man. He suspected roboGod was somehow listening and watching everything. But maybe not...and avoiding translation just might reduce one's chances. Very clever. Very clever indeed. "Alex," he said, "I think we're going to get along just fine. Now move those old legs. But let me know if you feel a heart attack coming."

The Belarussian glared, then they all ran towards the orc fortress, and the nearby great tree, in puffing silence.