Fight or Flight: Fulcrum: Season One, #5

By J.J. Vega

Everything is messed up. Jack's hurt. Zeke's hurt. And Corva is still trying to wrap her mind around everything she's found out in such a short period of time. They need to get help and Jack knows exactly where to take them. It's not going to be easy, though. There's more trouble coming to the little town of Bule.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Giant Coffee Blunderbuss
• Release date: Jul 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781943474097

Book preview

Fight or Flight

Fulcrum: Season One, Episode Five

J.J. Vega

The Giant Coffee Blunderbuss

© 2022 Jason van Gumster, All rights reserved

1

Math

What in the world of living shits was that? Jack stands up, vigorously rubbing the spot just over his ear where the piece of the barstool had smacked across his head. Didja see ol’ Wrinkles kickin’ the shit outta me and decide you needed to get in on that action too? Holy hell.

He looks over to Corva. She’s not paying any attention to him at all. Just staring out the front door. His missing front door. Jack takes a moment to look around the room. The only really clean and clear place is the empty path between where Thegn was standing and the gaping hole at the front of the bar where the door used to be. Everywhere else, well, it’s not even worth the energy of tallying up the damage. His bar is wrecked. There’s no way he’ll be able to fix it without Harris finding out.

At this point, though, that’s not even in the top three things that Jack has to worry about. Maybe not even in the top five. Death is in Bule. That itself brings its own bucket of trouble. There aren’t many stories of what happens when Death comes to town. There’s rarely anyone left alive to tell them. Jack’s and Lyia’s story is one of the few.

Lyia. What if Thegn finds out she’s here and she also survived the mark? Granted, the old coot didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to finish off Jack. Maybe he’ll overlook Lyia. Jack shakes his head to himself. That’s not something he’s willing to leave to chance. He’s got to let her know. Death may not be here for them, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be back. He could just as easily come after them the way he’s coming after Corva. Especially since Jack used the Touch on him.

Oh shit. The Touch. Corva. She saw him use it. She knows. She must know. He saw it in her eyes. The questions. The confusion. The betrayal. But he hadn’t betrayed her, had he? It’s not like he was there when the Fold took out her town. It’s not like he’d done any of the attacking. He was just a kid back then. She couldn’t hold him responsible for that, could she?

Guilt creeps in on the edges of Jack’s thoughts. He should’ve told her that his people were the Shadowfold the first time she’d brought it up. But how do you do that? How do you share a horrible truth without losing an ally? Without losing a friend?

Friends. Is that what they are? They’ve had their laughs, but the bulk of their interactions had been filled with banter and insults. Or moments of terror when she was literally trying to kill him. Is that something friends do? But just today, she’d stopped herself. She controlled one of her fits and he’d been there to help. And she’d returned to the bar after running off. Returned to face Death when she didn’t have to. They fought Death together. They’d even held their own against him. Granted, Corva did most of the work there. But Jack used the Touch to save her, to save them both. That’s a thing a friend does, right?

Jack’s arm is itchy and tingly under the chembraid. The gear is working, but his head still hurts, and not just from getting banged around. He chokes back a small wave of nausea. Now isn’t the time to get overwhelmed. He turns away from the devastation of his bar and gives Corva his full attention. Jack has got to make sure they’re on the same page. There’s no way they’re getting out of this unless they’re working together.

Of course, there’s the rub. She hasn’t responded at all to anything Jack’s said. She’s still in a trance, staring at the empty entrance through the tossed chairs and shredded tables.

Jack softens the tone in his voice. We’re okay, you know, me n’ Zeke. Far as I can tell, we ain’t dead.

Corva slowly turns her head to him, her expression blank, but not in a dazed zombie kind of way. It’s more like the look a person gets when she’s trying to do the math on a split check where no one considered the cost of what they ate or drank.

Hey! Corva! I’m talking to you. You in there?

Her eyes snap back to the now. She’s finally looking right at him. But only for a second.

Oh no! Zeke! She rushes by Jack and kneels at the small monkey’s side.

Jack lets out a small sigh of relief. She doesn’t hate him. Or, at least, she cares more about Zeke than she does about hating him. Zeke’s alright. Still breathin’. Don’t seem like he’s ready to wake up just yet. I think Wrinkles put a pretty heavy squeeze on him. Didn’t seem like anything was broken when I checked. Was a bit rushed, though, what with all the shit flying around in my bar.

You checked? How did you know how? Stuff like this has happened before?

Like this? Shit no. But he’s a little monkey working a merc bar in a gray town. Everyone gets roughed up a bit. I’m surprised, though. Normally he’s more wily. An old geezer like that wouldn’t ever get the drop on ’em.

Corva keeps staring down at Zeke. That ‘old geezer’ is Death. There’s no one else in the world like him.

You sure about that? In his mind, Jack winces, regretting the words as they pass his lips.

She looks up at Jack. What’s that supposed to mean?

He hesitates. Nothing. Forget about it.

She narrows her eyes at him. He knows that look. She’s not letting this go. Any attempt to talk his way out of it will just leave an awkward gap of trust. May as well rip the bandage off all at once.

"Fine. You really wanna know