TAKE ON ME [Survival LITRPG Apocalypse]

A thick layer of fog clung to the snowy hill where Bo sat, blowing warmth into his hands. He stared into the dying embers of the campfire.

Sleep had eluded him as he mulled over the unending list of tasks that needed to be completed. Before anyone else was awake, Bo had gathered wood for another [Profession Booth], and had awoken Bridget to help coordinate people in obtaining a profession.

That had really pissed Blake off.

Bo had headed straight down the hill and assembled the [Profession Booth]. He had built several of them by that point so it went up pretty quick.

He clapped the dirt off his hands after he set the last stick on its roof.

He looked around. There was no Bridget. No crowd of people ready to work. The completed [Profession Booth] began to sink into the ground.

Where the hell are they? What a waste! We don't have time for this!

He would have to build another [Profession Booth] because they were all too lazy to drag themselves out of bed?

Bo rubbed his lower back, then piled some logs for the next Booth.

He was really steamed when he finished stacking the new pile of building materials, and there was still no sign of anyone ready to work.

Bo had returned to their campfire, cursing everyone.

The embers' glow dimmed. Bo fed more wood into the flames, as he had been throughout the night. The first rays of dawn tried, and failed, to break through the mist.

Tom slowly untangled himself from the blanket he shared with Kate. A grunt escaped his clenched teeth. He stood, straightened his back, and hobbled to a nearby tree. He leaned against it and stretched his neck and back; there were several loud pops and pain-filled groans.

"Don't tell Kate about this. She'll just worry."

Bo simply nodded.

The hillside and clearing continued to wake up. There were relaxed postures, and even a few smiles here and there. The previous night had passed without any monster sightings; everything still sucked ass, but the boar meat and steady supply of firewood had raised some spirits.

Tess woke. She informed Bo that she was going to experiment with her [Battle Map], and to ignore any symbols he might see. Bo watched, smiling, as Tess sat by the fire, her eyes unfocused, her hands moving through the air.

Kate got up and joined Tom, who was rigid and had a strained smile on his face.

Who does he think he's fooling?

Hana attempted to fold her blanket one-handed. She shook her head in frustration.

The rest of the children were still wrapped in their blankets. Amber was snoring.

Bo, Tom, and Kate checked on the cookfire and its dwindling pile of logs.

"I talked Sam into becoming a [Lumberjack], and he specialized in rare woods," said Bo. "He's already a huge help. He can tell me which logs burn longer, which are good for cooking, stuff like that."

Kate nodded at the firewood. "We're going through it fast."

"We're going to clear the [Lumber Zone] from yesterday and hopefully work straight into another Zone," said Bo. "Those guys are going to hate me soon," he added with a wry smile.

"Well, tell them we all appreciate them," said Kate.

Bo sighed, and cast a glance across the hill. "There are still a lot of people without professions. I could use more loggers." In the distance, a sleepy-eyed Hana set down the blanket and began working on another Hatchet. "And [Toolmakers]."

"Has anyone else picked anything to help with the food situation?" Tom said. He searched for a piece of kindling.

"Some guy chose [Vegetarian Cook] last night; that's all I know of so far." Bo shook his head. "Throughout the day yesterday I asked people to pick a profession. At my last tally, out of the now 200'ish people on the hill, only about forty have chosen a profession so far. Many of those are not currently usable or helpful. I've talked to so many people who are just too scared to enter the Booth. I get it; the thing is sinking into the ground, and a god greets you on the other side. Life is ridiculous now. But I don't know what else to tell these people. They need to get onboard."

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Tom lit his kindling from a nearby fire. He brought it back and placed it at the bottom of the cookfire. He blew on the small flame, encouraging it to take hold.

Bo's gaze shifted to Bridget, who led a large group of retired residents down the hill toward the sinking [Profession Booth]. Bridget held a crayon and scribbled information onto a scrap piece of cardboard as she talked to each person.

"I take that back. Looks like the retired folks are ready to help."

Many of the older group looked excited.

"Seems so," Tom chuckled.

Hana approached them. "Bo, yesterday I went around asking for string or cloth donations. I have enough to make a few more Hatchets." She held up a few pieces of string. "After that, we need someone who can make rope."

"Thanks Hana, I added it to the list." Bo tapped his temple. "I'm going to try to get you some help too."

Hana nodded, then turned to Kate "There are a few more injured people who arrived last night. I'm going to send them your way. Finn can help, too."

Kate nodded. "All right. I'll keep an eye on him."

The rest of the kids started gathering around them.

"What are we going to do today?" Amber asked, warming her hands over the freshly lit cookfire.

"Work, recruit more people for professions, and stockpile logs," Bo said.

"Nothing dangerous," Tom added.

Amber rolled her eyes. "Daaad, I'm bored."

"Yeah, me too," Loo chimed in.

"Your boredom is not my concern right now," Tom said sternly. "I need you guys to behave. Anyone who causes problems or wanders from the group will be in some deep crap. I'm serious." He eyed both of them.

Amber rolled her eyes again.

Loo looked at the ground, then nodded.

Bridget walked over from the [Profession Booth]. "Hi, everyone. Bo, several people are ready go through the profession process this morning. Hana, I'm happy to say we'll have another [Toolmaker]."

Hana placed her hand on Bridget's shoulder. "Thank goodness! I am so tired," she said with a chuckle.

"It's that guy over there." Bridget pointed to an older Black man wearing blue jean coveralls and cowboy boots. "Said he used to be a machinist, or something like that."

Bridget then pointed to an older rotund White man sitting on the hill close by. "That guy says he will be a [Fisherman]."

Then she pointed to a small older East Asian woman "And that lady says she's going for tattoo artist. Couldn't tell if she was joking or not. I'll try to keep a list of everyone's professions. More people came in through the night. So far just more scared and hungry Raintree folks. We're up to 230-ish now. I'm going to get these people started, but a lot of them want to speak to you first, Bo."

Bridget waved goodbye, and headed back toward the [Profession Booth].

"Be there in just a second," Bo called to her. "People just need to get over this and get to work," he muttered.

"Well, I can't just sit here," Amber said. "Anyone want to go practice or train or something?"

The kids decided to find some of the other children on the hill—they knew most of them from school.

Chloe, as usual, huddled close to the fire and watched from afar.

Kate and Finn headed off to heal the injured, while Hana went to speak with the soon-to-be [Toolmaker].

"The meat supply won't last much longer," Tom said.

Bo felt a flutter of anxiety. "I'm gonna encourage more people to take food-related jobs." He paused. "It already feels like we're starting to spin our wheels. We're putting in too much effort just to stay warm. We still can't build a permanent structure. We have lots of people with unusable professions that we can't utilize."

A White man in his forties approached them. The stranger was on the chubbier side, with a warm smile and short bleached-blond hair. He introduced himself as Brad, and mentioned living just down the street from Bo.

Bo couldn't recall ever meeting Brad before.

"I grabbed a Kabob from you last night," said Brad, pointing at Tom, "but we didn't have a chance to talk. I just wanted to introduce myself and have a chat. Meet some people."

"Nice to meet you, Brad," Tom replied. He stuck a piece of meat on a Kabob, set it down into the cookfire, and disappeared into his time dilation zone.

Brad said that he lived alone and worked long hours. He went into excruciating detail about his previous home and desk job.

"So, who do you guys think is behind this whole apocalypse thing? Do you think the Caretakers are, like, aliens or something?"

Ah shit, I don't have time for this.

"Or maybe it's like the Devil and some Bible-type shit? You know I read this book once where you died and you—"

"Brad, it was great meeting you, man, but I have a lot on my plate."

Tom emerged from his time dilation, a sizzling Kabob in-hand.

"Tom, I'll catch up with you later. I'll send any food-related people your way." Bo gave them a brisk nod, and marched toward the pile of lumber to build the next [Profession Booth].

The retiree group descended on Bo. He answered many of the same questions he had the previous day, and repeated his spiel on which professions were most in-need. They asked at least double the number of questions compared with the younger crowd. Bo tried to answer them as fast as possible, but rushing only seemed to slow the whole process down. He watched in dismay as the [Profession Booth] he had built that morning sank to its halfway point.

Finally, he was able to get the line moving, and the first person entered the [Profession Booth].

I better get started on the next one.

The magical floating blueprint for the [Profession Booth] appeared in front of him, obstructing his view. Despite having memorized the ingredients and measurements, he checked once more to make sure he had everything he needed.

He dismissed the blueprint, and his eyes refocused.

Brad was standing in front of his face.

"Whoa!" Bo stepped back.

Brad stared, unmoving.

"Uh . . . hey, Brad, what's up?"

"I had an idea," Brad said, as though there had been no gap in their earlier conversation. "What if we talk about our Bard classes and abilities while we work? A multitasking cross-collaboration kind of thing?"

"You're a Bard too? I don't want to be rude, but I really need to focus on getting through a lot of work today. I might not have much time for conversation."

Brad nodded. "No worries, I can keep myself entertained. I'll hang out, and maybe just go over some of the interesting things I've uncovered during my ability testing. Feel free to ignore me and focus on your work."

Bo gave a strained smile. "Great. I'll get to setting up the Booth then."

Bo crouched and swiftly arranged the sticks, doing his best to tune out Brad's constant chatter in the background.

He was only a quarter of the way through the build when there was a small shake on his shoulder.

"Hey, did you hear what I said?"

Bo turned to look at him.

"I was telling you about my class and abilities. I'm a Bard Fanboy! I sing Eminem songs and give buffs to my teammates! I have to change and freestyle the lyrics to fit the situation, which is a little scary, but I think it's wild." Brad danced on the spot.

"Cool. Cool." Bo turned back to his work. "Listen, buddy, could we hold the chat till later? I have a lot of people waiting for this."

"Oh yeah, for sure, sorry man."

Brad didn't leave. He hovered at the edge of Bo's personal space.

Before long, Brad was circling Bo and the half-constructed Booth, and freestyle rapping.

Bo's eye twitched as he placed the last stick onto the second [Profession Booth]. He shook hands with a few people, then turned away from the second sinking shack. He marched to the [Lumber Zone] with Brad trotting close behind.

"Remember about the time dilation," Bo reminded Brad before diving back into his work.

He paused, and savored the resin-scented peace.

Most of the area had been cleared, which meant he would soon have to establish a new [Lumber Zone] and move the sentries and [Lumberjacks]. The sight of the growing piles of logs filled Bo with more tasks and plans.

Bo looked up, and growled.

Guy can't take a hint.

Bo maneuvered around the slow-moving Brad, and grabbed a charred stick from a nearby campfire to record his thoughts and notes on the stumps. Brad's hands waved in slow-motion, seeking Bo's attention.

It's gonna be a fucking long day.