How To Avoid Death On A Daily Basis: Book Two

by V. Moody

  The outhouse was the size of a garden shed, the kind you can just about fit a wheelbarrow and lawnmower into. There was a trough of water beside it where you could even wash your hands. All the mod cons.

  I opened the door expecting the usual hole in the ground, but was stunned to find an actual toilet, with a wooden seat. There was no flush, so it was probably just a deep hole with a chair over it, but it felt like I’d just walked into the penthouse suite of some fancy hotel.

  There was even toilet paper! Well, a stack of dried leaves, but they really felt smooth and soft. I sat there, enjoying the near normality, when the sound of water splashing told me someone was probably washing their hands in the trough. I then overheard the following conversation:

  “Aw, you lazy bums. You still not got that tree stump out the top field? What’re you like?”

  “What you mean, lazy? That’s damn hard work. I’d like to see you try.”

  “Yeah, Jarrad, we really be putting our backs into it.”

  “Three days you been at it. Lazy is right.”

  There seemed to be three speakers, all young men.

  “You can shut your mouth! My hands are ruined from pulling on that rope. Why can’t we use one of the horses to help?”

  There was the sound of someone being slapped.

  “Because Da’s taken the horses to the city, you dimwit. You expect him to pull the wagon his self? You better get finished with that stump by this afternoon, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

  “Aw, I’m so tired. We haven’t had a break in forever. When we gonna have some fun, Jarrad?”

  “Oh, it’s fun you want, is it? Well you can forget about it. I told you some Visitors killed the Mouse King, didn’t I? Until a new mouse colony moves in, we don’t do anything. We can’t have people wondering where their girls have gone if there aren’t any mice to blame.”

  “A new mouse colony? Aw, Jarrad, that could take years.”

  “It might. Or a few months. You can never tell with them mousey bastards. In the meantime, you both keep your mouths shut while these Visitors are staying with us.”

  “Do you think they’re the ones who killed the Mouse King?”

  “Nah, according to Ma, these are real green. She says they have a couple of girls with them, though.”

  “Really? Are they young?”

  “Hold your horses, now. Let’s see what the men are like first. Don’t want to start any trouble if they look like they can handle themselves.”

  “We can take care of them, Jarrad. Come on, I need my fun.”

  “You can always go back to shagging chickens—hur, hur, hur.”

  “Shut your mouth. That was only the once.”

  “Sure, sure it was.”

  The voices drifted off as they moved away. I sat there, trousers around my ankles, sweat pouring down my face, feeling incredibly lucky. Lucky that they hadn’t noticed my presence on the other side of the thin wooden wall, and lucky that I was in the perfect place to shit myself.

  I waited a few seconds to makes sure they really had gone, then I snuck out and returned to the barn. I immediately got my stuff together and prepared to leave.

  “What are you doing?” asked Claire. They were all up in the loft area choosing where they planned to spend the night.

  “We’re leaving. Now.”

  “What? Why?” Claire sounded shocked and angry. Four heads were staring down at me, waiting for an explanation.

  “Okay, I’m leaving. Normally I wouldn’t try to persuade you to follow me, but in this case I’m going to make an exception. Listen very carefully. Come with me, right now. Keep quiet, do exactly what I tell you, and fucking move!”

  I turned, bag on back, weapons drawn, and left. There was no time for explanations, and I was reluctant even to give them a hint of what I’d heard. If, somehow, one of those brothers heard me voice my suspicions, we’d be done. It was unlikely, but then it was unlikely for me to have heard them, too.

  I should point out that the conversation I overheard was not conclusive proof of anything. I could quite easily have misunderstood what they were talking about. Or they might have been exaggerating and making outrageous statements to try and impress each other, as boys often do when they’re together.

  It was hard to forget what Captain Grayson had said about the mouse warriors, how they kidnapped young girls and what they did to them. Not that it lessened the guilt of killing those babies, but at least it made it seem like some good would come of it. But if the mice weren’t responsible at all, if these hillbilly arseholes were the real culprits, not only did it mean we really were murderers, it also meant we were about to meet a sticky end if we hung around here much longer. It would be especially sticky for Claire and Flossie.

  I had no intention of waiting around to find out if I was suspecting them unfairly. Fuck fair. If I was making unreasonable assumptions, I’d just have to learn to live with it.

  The others caught up with me, looking confused and scared. They followed my lead, keeping low and sneaking around the back of the barn into the fields of corn. I headed back toward the road that led to Fengarad, but rather than use the track we’d taken to get here, I was cutting through the field so we would come out much further along the road.

  Trampling through someone’s crops was considered a crime in these parts, but my only concern was to not be seen, and the tall stalks of corn provided excellent cover. I just hoped I was heading in the right direction.

  After about half an hour, we broke out of the corn into a meadow. Far to our left we could see a break in the grass indicating where the track was. Ahead of us was the forest and the road to the city. I stopped to take a drink of water.

  Unfortunately, we had missed out on the chance to stock up on food at the farm, but if we got back to the river, we would be able to survive the three days it would take to get to Fengarad. Assuming we didn’t run into the rogue ogre.

  “Are you going to tell us what the fuck is going on?” said Claire.

  They had all done what I had asked. Not one word was spoken as we fled through the corn. No one demanded answers or wanted to stop and rest. They deserved an explanation, so I told them what I’d overheard.

  They were all stunned by what I said. Claire and Flossie both paled, while Dudley and Maurice drew their weapons even though there was no one to fight. They didn’t question the accuracy of what I’d heard, or of the conclusions I’d drawn.

  “Somebody has to stop them,” said Claire, her voice all shaky.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “I hope somebody does, but right now we have other things to worry about.”

  I pointed down the road at the horse and wagon approaching in the distance.

  6. Then A Hero Comes Along

  It took us another half an hour to reach the road. By then we could see the wagon was being pulled by two horses, and that there was another horse with rider alongside it. Most likely it was the farmer returning with help to take care of the rogue ogre.

  We set off down the road, towards the approaching wagon.

  “Nobody mention the farm,” I said. “We’re coming straight from Probet, on our way to Fengarad. Don’t offer any other information. If they ask any questions, just say nothing and look confused. I don’t care who these guys are or how great they seem, keep schtum.”

  This seemed the safest course of action. Making sure we all kept to the same story was the most important thing, and the best way to do that was to have no story. If there was one thing this group was good at, it was acting dumb.

  The others were nervous, but at this point we were all suffering from anxiety fatigue and too exhausted to panic properly.

  “Ah hope they ain’t psychos too,” muttered Flossie.

  “It’ll be fine,” said Dudley.

  “Yeah, fine, fine,” added Maurice.

  As we got closer, the first thing that became apparent was the difference between the horses. The two pulling the wagon were small and black, shuffling along with heads dr
ooped. The one with the rider was a golden tan colour with a glorious white mane, and cantered along with its head held high. Even from a distance, its movement looked impressive.

  The rider was hard to see properly because he was glinting so much. The late afternoon sun was sinking behind us, and its light reflected off what I assumed was armour.

  We continued walking towards them, various scenarios playing in my mind. We just had to exchange pleasantries, keep it short, then move on. No doubt it wouldn’t be that easy—it never was in this place.

  It turned out the rider wasn’t in full armour. He was wearing a very cool looking leather get up with metal bands on the shoulders and arms. He had curly blond hair and a huge smile on his face.

  “Hey! You alright there?” he yelled at us.

  I immediately disliked him. It wasn’t just the fancy horse and the cool leathers, it was the accent.

  “Are you Australian?” I called out to him.

  “Sure am. You sound like a Brit. I’m guessing you’re the new arrivals.”

  The wagon pulled up just ahead of us. The man behind the reins was short and plump with a full beard and a floppy hat. He was smiling too, and certainly didn’t look like the father of a bunch of psychopaths.

  The Australian climbed down from his horse and came at me with hand extended.

  “The name’s Sonny. Can’t tell you how happy I am to meet you guys.” He shook hands with everyone. We all introduced ourselves.

  He was tall, good-looking and built like an athlete. And very Australian. I don’t mean that in a good way.

  “This here is my best friend, Nicky.” He rubbed the horse’s nose. “And this is Farmer Angelo.”

  He pointed to the farmer who took off his hat to reveal a bald head, which he bowed slightly. “It’s Angalad.”

  “Oops, sorry about that, mate. Got a terrible memory for names.” Sonny laughed. “Anyway, you can leave us to it.”

  “Are you sure?” asked the farmer.

  “No worries. Now that I’ve met up with my new party here, we’ll have your little ogre problem sorted in no time. Right guys?”

  “Sorry,” I said, trying to sound confused (not very difficult), “what are you talking about?”

  “I’ll explain it all in a minute.” He walked over to the wagon and pulled a bag out of the back and then patted the side.

  “Well, good luck!” called out the farmer as he set off. “You know where we are when you’ve finished. There’ll be a slap up dinner waiting for you!”

  Sonny hung the bag on his saddle. He gave the farmer an exaggerated wave and then turned to us. “Right then, down to business. You probably have a bunch of questions, and I’m the man with the answers. Got here with my lot four years ago. Didn’t have a clue what was going on back then, but now I know this place like the back of my hand. Trust me, bumping into me was the best thing that could have happened to you.”

  See. Australian.

  “Thanks,” I said, “but we just want to get to Fengarad. We’re not really up for any ogre fighting right now. As you can see, we aren’t very well equipped.”

  “No problem,” exclaimed Sonny. “The thing about ogres, it’s more about the tactics than the weapons. I can show you the ropes, teach you how to handle yourselves—you’ll never have a problem dealing with ogres again. Full masterclass, no charge.” He grinned , showing off immaculate teeth.

  Clearly, he wasn’t the type to take no for an answer. Fortunately, I had a bunch of fuck yous to offer him.

  “Sonny, is it? I think you misunderstand. I don’t appreciate being volunteered into service. You didn’t ask us if we wanted to be part of your task force or posse or whatever it is you think you’re forming here. We’re going to Fengarad.”

  I started walking. Sonny threw up his hands and walked backwards to keep ahead of me.

  “Woah, woah. Looks like we got off on the wrong foot here. My fault, my fault. I didn’t mean it, but sometimes the old mouth takes over before the brain’s had a chance to get in gear, know what I mean?”

  I kept walking. The others were following me, but I could sense their discomfort.

  “Thing is,” continued Sonny, “that’s why we’re here. We’re the heroes who take care of monsters. It’s what we do.”

  His relentless grinning was really getting on my tits. I stopped walking. “Heroes? There’s no such thing as an Aussie hero. The closest you ever got was Ned Kelly, and he was just a criminal with a bucket on his head.”

  “Colin....” Claire couldn’t help but intercede. I ignored her.

  “We heard something big and angry thrashing about in the woods back there.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “You want to be a roleplayer? Have fun cosplaying Mad Max on a horse all you want.”

  Sonny squinted like he was trying to get a proper look at me. Then he burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, enough with the sledging. I was out of order, I admit it. You guys want to do your own thing, that’s cool. I can handle the ogre, you don’t have to get involved. I just thought you might want to learn how it’s done. My mistake.”

  “You’re going to kill the ogre by yourself?” asked Maurice, sounding incredulous.

  “Sure, why not? It’s easy once you know how. But look, it’s getting late—be dark soon. Why don’t we set up camp and I can at least give you the lowdown on Fengarad. Where you need to go, where you need to avoid, all that stuff. Least I can do.”

  “What about the ogre?” asked Claire.

  “No worries. They bed down pretty early. He’s probably already tucked away for the night by now. We can enjoy a nice meal, some laughs, and tomorrow morning I’ll sort out Mr Ogre, and you lot can head off to Fengarad with Sonny’s list of must-see places. When I get back, maybe we can meet up for a drink. Don’t tell me Aussie’s don’t know a thing or two about where to find the best pubs.” He grinned at me.

  He had a point. It was getting late and we’d have to set up camp soon. And it would be useful to know about Fengarad.

  “Okay,” I said. “But we don’t have any food. We were going to catch some fish.”

  “Then, today really is your lucky day. I’m going to treat you to the best meal you’ve ever had.”

  “Oh,” said Maurice. “Did you bring some food with you?”

  “Of course, mate. I’m Australian! Time to set up the barbie.”

  7. Sword Art Offline

  Although there were still trees growing alongside the road, the forest itself had thinned out, so there were large open spaces around the river. We built a fire in one of these clearings.

  Sonny pulled out a number of metal rods and fitted them together until they transformed into a rack and stand which he placed over the fire. He unrolled a piece of cloth to reveal a selection of meats. He threw them on the rack where they sizzled and spat as they cooked.

  “Now,” said Sonny, “when you get to Fengarad, the first place you’ll want to go is the Municipal Directory. Ask anyone where it is, they’ll point you in the right direction. It’s a big old building in the middle of the city and they’ve got all the main institutions there—including registration for Visitors. That’s what we’re called, Visitors.”

  He pushed the strips of meat around with the tip of his dagger, turning a couple of them over.

  “They’ll be able to give you all sorts of advice and info there. Where you can find digs, how to make money, all that good stuff. Say, how many of you are there?”

  We were sat around the fire, staring at the sizzling meat. Even though we had a large lunch, the smell of charred flesh still got us salivating.

  “There were twenty of us when we arrived,” I said.

  Sonny let out a low whistle. “Wow. We only had eight in our group.”

  “What happened to them?” asked Claire.

  “Aw well, there’s a story. We had four guys, four girls. We lost a couple early on to an ogre attack. We got a bit overconfident, to tell you the truth. We’d seen the soldiers take care of an ogre on our first day
and thought we could handle it…” He shook his head.

  “Wait,” I said, “are you saying when you first woke up in the clearing in the woods, your group was attacked by an ogre?

  “That’s right, mate. Scared the shit out of us—but the soldiers who came to find us dealt with the bastard like it was nothing. Amazing, it was.”

  The idea that both their group and ours were attacked by an ogre within moments of arriving in the clearing seemed an unlikely coincidence. On the other hand, as a way to put the fear of monsters into our heads, and encourage us to turn into killers, it was pretty effective. It made me think there was some manipulative bastard out there responsible for making sure we saw this world as a fight for survival.