Page 36 of Code Bound
Icome to violently, gasping for air, my hand going to my chest where the snake had sunk its fangs in. I’d been dreaming of that damn Boiúna, and I’m pretty sure I was screaming when I came to. I’m soaked with sweat, but it’s not hot where I am, cool air flows across my face and body. I blink and look around, trying to figure out where exactly I am and how the fuck I managed to find myself here.
My feet are bare, my boots dropped on the ground messily beside the bed. My clothes are still in place but they’re crispy as if they’d gotten wet and dried. They itch when I move more than usual. There’s a blanket partially wrapped around me that is still slightly damp and I toss it fully off me to the floor.
I don’t recognize the room I’m in, but it’s nicer than anything I’ve ever had in Dross. The walls are made of stone, but they’re clean and free from dirt. The bed I’m sitting on is raised off the ground, so there isn’t a chill like our mattress pads had in our apartment. The blanket and sheet are soft cotton. My fingers run over them repeatedly, relishing the feeling of it. I’ve never had cotton bedding. I want to just lay back down in them and curl up, but I have to figure out what’s going on first.
There’s a small table beside me with a glass of water and what looks like some sort of food. I don’t touch it immediately because I don’t know where it came from, but I do reach for the small square of food with my left hand to smell it. A heavenly sweet scent reaches my nose and it takes everything in me to set it back down and not shove it in my mouth.
Only once I do so do I realize that my arm is uninjured.
“What . . .” I roll my shoulder and realize it’s back in its socket where it belongs. I look down at my chest where I know the snake had bitten me multiple times. My skin is unblemished save for some minor bruising that looks like it’s already weeks old.
I look around the room again and stand, searching for any evidence of what happened after the Boiúna. No Locke. No snake. I find nothing but the comfortable bed, a table, a chamber pot, a sink, and a basin for washing.
“Cipher?” I say out loud hesitantly.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Vespera,” Cipher replies immediately. “I’ve been waiting for you to regain consciousness.”
“Where am I?” I ask, frowning.
“AppleFrogs, a safehouse within the Secret Abyss. You’re inside one of the healing rooms.”
There’s a mirror over the sink and I catch my reflection in it as I move around. I lean forward, frowning at how dirty my face is. “And how did I get here?”
“To the room? Or to the safehouse?” Cipher asks plainly.
I roll my eyes. “Both.”
“I see.” Cipher pauses. “Player number three million, six hundred and seventy-three thousand, five hundred, and seventeen carried you after your battle with the Boiúna. You were unconscious and the water was rising.”
I squint my eyes. “You mean Locke carried me?”
“That is correct.”
“You could have just said his name,” I grumble. “There’s no need for the long ass number. Where is he?” I look around the small room, but he’s clearly not here. Maybe he was injured and is in another room?
Cipher sniffs. “I am not his keeper.”
Shaking my head, I pad across the stone floor on bare feet toward the door. First, I need to find Locke and make sure he’s okay. Second, I’m starving. I don’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. It was in Dross. That much I know. But I don’t know how long that’s been and I can’t be bothered to ask Cipher right now. “You’re a real asshole sometimes, you know that?”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t bother arguing. It’s apparently a fact.
The building I’m in seems to have been carved from the cave walls, built into the very system it resides in. The place is set up with strange booths and tables, a large bar in the center of it. It’s clean, and comfortable, and not decaying at all, not like home. There are people throughout the place, some sitting in booths, some sitting at the bar, but only a few of them seem to be human. The majority of the people milling around, including the current bartender, have large bulbous heads and wide mouths. They look like larger versions of some of the small creatures we’d seen in the Whispering Canopies, but we hadn’t gotten a close look at them before the howler monkey situation. I wonder if they’re some sort of version of those.
One of them goes to pass by me and I can’t help but stop them.
“Excuse me,” I say. “Could you tell me . . . what . . . you are?”
The male sighs heavily and looks at me with large eyes that reflect my appearance. He’s wearing a gray jacket and a blue shirt, a hat on his head, but his face is the same wide mouth and giant eyes as the other creatures. “You players are all the same, aren’t you?” He makes a sound deep croaking sound in his throat. “I’m a slippy toad.” At my look of confusion, he adds, “Frog folk, player. Frog folk. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to my meal.”
“Of course,” I say, side stepping him. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
The male continues on his way and takes a seat in one of the booths where he just sits there and stares at the wall. He doesn’t touch the plate of gross food in front of him. He doesn’t move again except to blink those large black and gold eyes.
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask Cipher.
“That is an NPC, Vesper,” Cipher answers. At my immediate confusion, he adds, “A non-playable character. He is here for aesthetic reasons and nothing more.”
