Solomon's Crucible 60. The Home Front (1) (Patreon)

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The next morning dawned grey and overcast, but the threatened rain storm hadn't quite materialized by the time that Solomon woke. The three of them didn't have much to say as they prepared to leave. The system-provided inventory was proving to be a great time saver for a road trip, although they gave back most of that time as they had to drag the dresser out of the way of the door before they could leave.

They were able to get Monty to his friend's house without suffering any monster attacks. Solomon appreciated the quick trip, but he would have rather they spent the whole time stomping out furball attacks. Monsters that were smart enough not to take on losing fights were monsters that were smart enough to pounce as soon as they saw weakness.

That was a problem for the future. And, frankly, a problem for Monty and his friends to deal with. Solomon had left them with one last exhortation to get moving as soon as possible, but he didn't harbor much hope in his heart. The odds were that they would toss his advice to the side as soon as he was out of sight. Even if they did risk the trip, he wasn't confident that they'd make it all the way to Glide.

Still, he'd done what he could. He mounted up and moved on with a clear conscience, at least.

They were more than halfway to Eugene, now. Stalled cars had become a more common sight, although they never did run into another human being on the freeway. Solomon would have liked to think that those drivers had made it to safety. It was a nice thought.

A few little monsters tried their luck, but nothing attacked that could seriously threaten them. Solomon managed to get his Marksmanship skill up to level two when he managed a headshot on some kind of wild dog while it was about twenty feet away. He was happy for the grid points, but he still felt like making level five would be a stretch.

All in all, they reached the exit for his parents' house without any major incident. As Solomon led Kanmi down the off-ramp, he dared to hope that they would be able to grab his family and rush back while the freeway was still clear.

It was a disheartening ride down the surface streets to their destination. Solomon didn't see any patrols moving around outside to clear the neighborhood. He did see lots of boarded up windows. He could feel eyes on him the whole time, but nobody called out either to greet him or warn him off. 

Unnerving as the situation was, the tension he'd been feeling drained away at the sight of his childhood home. At least something had survived the system's arrival unscathed. Solomon directed his mount to the spot on the driveway where he usually parked, then laughed at himself as he deactivated the mount and pocketed the token.

The clacking of the three guns strapped to his front as he opened the front gate was a reminder that he hadn't quite returned to the happy days of yesteryear. As was the angry hiss that preceded an angry shadow charging at him from behind the trash cans. Solomon pivoted in time to make out some kind of mutated raccoon before he kicked out in reflex.

All those points he had spent on Dexterity paid off as he caught the little bastard right under the chin. The force punted it up in the air. Kanmi didn't miss a trick, his flexible sword snapping out to slice off its head. Solomon made a mental note to clean up the body later as he headed for the front door. First things first, he wanted to check on his parents.

Solomon didn't even get a chance to knock before the door was yanked open. His father grabbed the sleeve of his outstretched arm and tugged at him.

"Solomon, get inside!" he said, before he noticed Kanmi. "Your friend, too. Quick!"

Solomon let his dad drag him inside, Kanmi on his heels. As soon as he was in, his dad slammed the door shut, engaging the lock and the deadbolt almost simultaneously.

Solomon turned away from him to look around the house and found his mother studying him from a few paces away.

"Did it scratch you, honey?" she asked.

"I'm fine, ma," Solomon said. Usually he got a little irritated with her overprotectiveness, but under the circumstances he'd hardly make an issue of it. "Besides, I have plenty of HP."

"HP can't heal status effects, dear," she said, giving him a last look over before conceding that he actually was fine.

"What?" Solomon asked.

"The poison," his dad said, joining the conversation now that the door was secure, "their claws are coated with something that stops HP healing from working until it wears off. It's a real pain in the ass."

"That's what I said, Hal," his mother said. "Now, Solomon, who's your friend?"

"This is Kanmi. He helped me get back here safely," Solomon said. "He's, uh, not from around here."

At that, Kanmi took off his helmet. They'd raided an abandoned gas station to pick up an oversized pair of sunglasses that might let him pass for human, but Solomon didn't want to lie to his family. Besides, with everything going on right now, he didn't expect there to be any problems. Maybe later once the rest of the aliens started taking over, but not yet.

"Oh my," his mother said. "Welcome to Earth."

"Thanks, ma'am," Kanmi said, most of his swagger put away for the moment.

"Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?" she asked. "We have water, iced tea, and lemonade. It's not as cold as I'd like, but I did make it myself."

"Lemonade sounds great, ma'am."

Solomon called after her as she turned to head into the kitchen. "One for me, too, mom."

She waved at him in a way that Solomon chose to interpret to mean that he'd be getting his drink. He shrugged.

When he turned, he found that his father was studying his shield arm. He'd had it behind him as he walked in, and the shield mostly hid his arm from view, but from this close there was no missing the hook that had taken the place of his left hand.

"Son," his dad asked, "did you get up to some damn foolishness in a dungeon?"

Solomon sighed. He took the shield off and stored it in his inventory. It was good to be home, good to be around people who cared. He could only hope that the coming fuss would fade soon. He'd only lost the one hand. It was hardly a worrying pattern.

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