“What?” Bill asked.
The two of them were sitting in what could best be described as a well armored and well fortified hut with a window in the middle of nowhere. Their job was to be lookouts. They had to be on guard for any monster or monsters who might destroy any of the few safe havens humanity had left.
The two originally signed on to make a difference in the world, help out the common man, and, most of all, get money. This job paid surprisingly well, considering that, for the most part, all the two did was sit on their asses.
For the most part, Bill didn’t mind the job…for the most part. There was one little problem Bill had with it: his coworker, Chuck. Chuck always seemed to find every way possible to annoy Bill. Today, he seemed to have decided on asking stupid questions. Case in point:
“You know, umhlambi. Big rhino things. Don’t they always look pissed off to you?”
“Yes, Chuck, I’m aware of what an umhlambi is. And honestly, I’ve never really noticed or cared if they looked pissed off.”
“I’d recommend noticing and caring right now.”
“And why is that?”
“Because there’s a whole herd of them coming right for us.”
Bill wanted to laugh. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”
Chuck shook his head. “Take a look.”
Bill peeked through the window.
He saw large, billowing clouds of dust. And it seemed to be moving closer.
He started noticing details, little by little.
It was a herd of umhlambi, heading straight for them.
“I’ll be damned,” Bill muttered.
Bill turned to Chuck. “Sound the alarm. Get the word out. Then get out of here.”
“And what are you doing?” Chuck asked.
Bill got a gun. “I’m gonna cover you,” he said as he exited the hut.
Chuck got a cell comm, and sent out a distress signal. “This is Wasteland Outpost 23-D, sending out a distress signal. There’s a herd of umhlmabi heading right for us, and towards New Havenrock.”
Chuck heard screams outside, and thundering. He took a quick look through the window.
The herd was getting closer, and Bill…well, he couldn’t see much of Bill, except a bloodied hand.
“I repeat, this is Wastedland Outpost 23-D! We’re being overrun by umhlambi! Send help! I repeat, send –”
“And that’s the last we heard from them.” Jeb said.
He, along with a girl in a heart shirt and jacket and a man with white hair and piercing blue eyes, were sitting at a booth in the West Point, a bar for Slayers. Slayers are monster hunters, like the girl and man situated across from Jeb, who gave jobs to Slayers. He was basically a human “Help Wanted” add for monster hunters.
He just finished playing the audio logs of the distress call for the two.
“And what do you want us to do?” the man – Frost – asked.
“Well, the government of New Havenrock wants some Slayers to go the herd and put them down.”
“Why Slayers? Wouldn’t an army make more sense?”
“New Havenrock’s had a tough time, and the government doesn’t want to worry the populace any more than they need to. An army would send the wrong message.”
The girl – Natalie – was sipping on a soda. When she heard that, she stopped, and says, “That sounds dumb.” Then she went back to her soda.
“She’s right,” Frost said.
“Dumb or not, that’s what the government wants. And they’re offering a lot of money to put this herd down."
“About a million credits.”
Natalie, who had just finished her soda and was in the process of swallowing the last of the drink, spit out the liquid in shock.
“One million credits? Think of all the pancakes we could buy!” she exclaimed.
Jeb, who was just drenched in soda, said in a voice not too far from anger, “Yes. That’s it. Think of pancakes.”
Natalie looked the man over. “Oh. Sorry!”
Jeb sighed. “Are you two willing to take this?”
Frost thought about it. One million credits was a lot of money, and in this world, money was a valuable commodity. There was also the fact that no army would be dispatched to take these things down, so he and Natalie were probably the best way to save a lot of lives. And, finally, he knew if he didn’t take this, Natalie would never let him hear the end of it.
“Fine. We accept.” Frost said.
“Yay!” Natalie yelled, and hugged him.
Jeb handed Frost a paper.
“Those are the coordinates where the umhlambi were last spotted.”
“Thanks,” Frost said.
Jeb smiled. “Enjoy your pancakes.” He said, getting out of the booth and walking away.
TO BE CONTINUED