The situation, as far as I could tell, was morked. Like seriously morked.

  At the recreation center I knew something was up when I saw the window blinds of the recreation center move on their own. I soft stepped like a lurker making a hot drop to a different window and peeked in, now, I’m not one for dramatics, I didn’t gasp or anything, but I certainly got away from there as fast I could.

  There were dozens of the freaks packed in the recreation building’s lower main room, at least thirty of them. Upon seeing this I knew where my last thirty three hollows were hiding, but knowing was only half the battle. Now I needed some serious firepower to compensate for the difference in numbers. No, what I really needed was actual fire, something to wipe all those big uglies out all at once.

  The gas station.

  I did not want to go there, but I wanted to get ripped apart by a horde of hollows even less. That thing at the gas station was waiting for me, whether it knew it or not, and destiny seemed to be propelling me into collision with unending conflict. I had run from it last time, like a frightened animal does from a two legged horror of the woods, but this time I would face it on my own terms.

  It was time to level up.

  I hustled back to a house I emptied out earlier and deadbolted the lock. I knew the drill to leveling up now and didn’t want to get caught out in the opening spasming out. Unfortunately, there were no points left to spend in the shop, but I had one stat point and something called a skill point too. Before I made any decisions I might regret, I decided to explore just what a skill point was and clicked the glowing word on my phone. A new submenu popped up with seven categories and it took my mind a second to process all the new information at once. There were hundreds of sections to read, with each option under a primary stat block. Some of them specified that they required three stat points, while others needed as many as twenty.

  Too bad I couldn’t pick most of them.

  The vast majority of the skill list were greyed out question marks and when I tried clicking one, a notification popped up on my screening saying “insufficient stat block”. I guess that’s what those numbers at the bottom of each skill choice meant. A useful filter at the top let me instantly sort out the skills that I could not use yet and my options were immediately cut to less than ten.

  Someone was trying to talk to me through the skill descriptions, that much was clear from the creepy messages smuggled underneath the vitality and agility skills, but people I couldn’t see sending me phone messages was something I was becoming used to. Besides, the implications of these skill options were taking most of my attention from the obvious fear bait. Reflex and intuition had the most options, assumedly because they were the highest leveled at four each, and I didn’t even have an option for education since I must not have met the criteria for even the lowest level skill.

  There was one particular skill that kept drawing my eye, the idea of its usefulness in avoiding combat being particularly alluring, but I needed to play it smart here. Avoiding a fight was useful, but some conflict just couldn’t be avoided. I already knew that thing was still sleazing around the gas station and I did not need a dog’s nose to smell the odor of gasoline mixed with sewage that emanated from it, so I chose one of the reflex skills, “catch this”, as that had the best potential to help me in a pinch during combat.

  I braced myself as I confirmed the choice for my skill, expecting the same jolt of pain from leveling up my reflex earlier, but nothing happened. The only change was that the new skill was listed on my stat page. That was a pleasant surprise and though I did not feel any different, my gut told me that I’d find the full potential for the skill in combat. That just left leveling up one of my stats.

  I’d chosen reflex earlier and remembered how that slight edge had saved me from getting my head caved in, but increasing my physicality or vitality was tempting. Being able to hit harder or take harder hits would be amazing, but I chose to level up reflex again since ramming a spear in a hollow’s guts didn’t require super strength and I wouldn’t need to worry about how many hits I could take if I could just dodge them. Besides that, I was also curious as to what kind of skills having high leveled stats unlocked. An image of me dodging bullets like the in the Matrix swam through my head. It was silly, but then again, this was essentially a game.

  “And I’m in it to win it.” I upgraded my reflex from four to five and it hit me like a dump truck.

  Choosing a skill earlier and suffering no ill effects from it had put me off guard again, since unlike increasing a stat, there was no pain involved there. Increasing my reflex instantly put me on the ground where one instant I was standing and the next I was face planted on the heavily carpeted floor. Thankfully the tasteless shag carpet absorbed most of the blow to my head, yet even at the moment if I did suffer some head trauma, I did not care too much, as it felt like my back was splitting open and my spine was doing the limbo with the electric caress of a thundercloud massaging every nerve in my body. After flopping on the floor like a fish out of water for a minute, the buzz saw electric feeling dissipated and I was back in full control of myself.

  “Note to self, take a seat next time I do that.” You’d think I’d have learned the first time, but there’s a reason my education stat was one of my lowest. Despite the temporary cost in pain, this time I felt a barely noticeable difference that made the payoff worth it. There was still an electric tingle in my spine, but the good kind that made me feel like a spring ready to pop off. I wasn’t going to be dodging bullets anytime soon, but if I kept pumping up my reflex stat, that did not seem like a too far fetched reality.

  Gassed up as I was on increased reflexes, the time had come to face that demon in the gas station. Not only was I confident that I could dodge that lumbering creature's attacks, but I had a few surprises in store for the beast. My house hunting had not been entirely fruitless and now the reward for looting countless houses took up nearly my entire inventory space with fifteen pounds of lumberjack love. I left the house I had sheltered in and stepped onto the main road toward the yawning mouth of the darkened gas station.

  It was time to rip and tear.