Chapter 06
David sprinted toward the crosswalk, glancing at his watch with growing panic. He was cutting it close—ten minutes until his shift started at Morgan's Grocery. Mr. Morgan wasn't exactly known for his flexibility when it came to tardiness.
Distracted by thoughts of the upcoming town meeting and whether he'd have the courage to approach Francine there, David didn't notice the car until its horn blared. He froze mid-stride, heart lurching as a sedan screeched to a halt inches from where he stood.
An elderly woman with a tight silver perm peered at him through the windshield, her expression unreadable. For several uncomfortable seconds, she simply stared at him, eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to place him in her memory. There was something unsettling about her gaze—too focused, too intense—that made the hair on the back of his neck rise.
David raised a hand in awkward apology and backed onto the curb. The woman continued to stare for another long moment before driving away, her car moving with deliberate slowness.
"Nice going, space cadet," he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. The near-miss had left his legs feeling wobbly. Getting hit by a car was not the kind of excitement he needed today.
He managed to clock in with exactly two minutes to spare, earning a raised eyebrow from Mr. Morgan as he hurriedly tied his apron.
"Cutting it close, Lamb," Mr. Morgan commented, his voice dry. "I was about to call your replacement."
"Sorry, sir," David replied, straightening his nametag. "It won't happen again."
"Mmm-hmm." Mr. Morgan handed him a pricing gun. "Aisle four needs restocking. And when you're done with that, Carol called in sick so you'll be on register three."
David suppressed a groan. Register duty was his least favorite part of the job—the combination of mental math under pressure and forced customer interaction was his personal idea of hell. But he just nodded, taking the pricing gun without complaint.
The afternoon crawled by as David methodically worked through his tasks. Restocking shelves at least gave him time to think, his hands finding a rhythm as he arranged cans and checked inventory. The repetitive nature of the work allowed his mind to wander, primarily to the upcoming town meeting and the possibility of seeing Francine there.
His mundane routine was interrupted when he spotted a familiar face at the end of the aisle—Chad Markinson, one of Nevin's core group of friends. Chad was a basketball player, tall and broad-shouldered, whose primary personality trait seemed to be laughing too loudly at Nevin's jokes. Today he was wearing his Millridge Eagles varsity jacket despite the mild weather, a not-so-subtle reminder of his athletic status.
David ducked his head, pretending to be deeply absorbed in arranging soup cans, hoping Chad wouldn't notice him. No such luck.
"Well, if it isn't the space cadet," Chad called loudly enough for other customers to turn and look. "Arranging those cans alphabetically, or just trying to remember what they're called?"
David's shoulders tensed. "Can I help you find something?" he asked, his employee script overriding his desire to disappear.
"Nah, I'm good." Chad smirked, grabbing a bag of chips from a nearby display. "Just picking up some stuff for the game tonight. A bunch of us are heading to Nevin's to watch the tournament." He paused, his smile turning smug. "But I guess you wouldn't know about that, would you?"
"I have work," David replied stiffly, turning back to his shelving.
"Right. Work." Chad's tone made the word sound pathetic. "Well, have fun with your... soup."
David kept his eyes fixed on the shelf, methodically continuing his task until Chad moved on. It was a small interaction, but it left him feeling worse than he'd expected. Being excluded wasn't new, but having it thrown in his face still stung.
By the time his break rolled around, David had mostly pushed the encounter from his mind. He sat in the employee break room, unwrapping a sandwich he'd brought from home and scrolling through Battle of the Ancients patch notes on his phone. The small room was empty except for him, the ancient refrigerator humming loudly in the corner.
His brief respite ended too quickly, and soon he found himself stationed at register three, scanning items and making small talk with customers. He had just finished ringing up Mrs. Calloway's weekly groceries when he spotted them—Nevin's parents, with a cart piled high with party supplies. Behind them trailed Nevin's younger brother Derek, looking bored and playing some game on his phone.
David's stomach tightened. If Nevin's parents were shopping here, there was a good chance Nevin himself might appear. But as they approached his register, David realized he had no choice but to serve them.
"Good afternoon," he said mechanically as they began unloading their cart. "Did you find everything you were looking for?"
"We did, thank you," Mrs. Nevage replied politely, barely glancing at him as she arranged items on the conveyor belt. She was a tall, elegant woman dressed in clothes that probably cost more than David made in a month. Mr. Nevage, immaculately dressed in a casual but clearly expensive ensemble, was focused on his phone, fingers tapping out what looked like an email.
David scanned their items in silence: imported chocolates, specialty cheeses, organic fruits, and an assortment of gourmet beverages that seemed completely disconnected from a teenage gaming party. The total kept climbing with each scan.
"Paper or plastic?" David asked when he'd finally finished scanning everything.
"Paper, please," Mrs. Nevage replied. "And do be careful with those cheeses. They're from a specialty shop in Atlanta."
"Yes, ma'am," David said, carefully bagging the items.
As he worked, Derek glanced up from his phone, eyeing David's nametag. "Hey, you're that guy Nevin was talking about. From woodworking class."
David froze momentarily, then continued bagging. "That'll be $172.68," he said to Mrs. Nevage, ignoring the comment.
Mr. Nevage finally looked up from his phone, handing over a sleek black credit card without really looking at David. "Derek, go get the car started," he said, tossing keys to his younger son.
Derek caught them one-handed but lingered. "But this is the guy—"
"Now, please," Mrs. Nevage cut in, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Derek rolled his eyes but complied, shuffling out of the store. Mr. Nevage returned to his phone while Mrs. Nevage watched David finish bagging their groceries.
"You're Michael Lamb's son, aren't you?" she asked suddenly.
David looked up, surprised. "Yes, ma'am."
"I thought so. I can see the resemblance." She studied him for a moment. "Your father restored an antique cabinet for us a few years ago. Beautiful work."
"Thank you," David replied, unsure what else to say. He vaguely remembered his father spending weekends on a restoration project for a "fancy client" — his dad's primary passion was classic cars, but his skill with woodworking had led to occasional side projects for extra income, especially when he was saving up for car parts.
Mrs. Nevage seemed about to say something else when Mr. Nevage cleared his throat impatiently. "We should get going, dear. The caterers will be arriving soon for Nevin's tournament gathering."
Caterers. For a high school game night. And they were still buying nearly two hundred dollars' worth of gourmet food. David handed over the receipt, trying to keep his expression neutral.
"Thank you," Mrs. Nevage said with a polite nod, gathering her bags. "Do tell your father I said hello."
David watched them leave, feeling oddly unsettled. The interaction had been cordial enough, but something about it left him feeling diminished, as though he'd been briefly examined and then dismissed as unimportant.
The rest of his shift passed uneventfully. By closing time, David was exhausted from the constant interaction and eager to get home. As he clocked out, Mr. Morgan approached him.
"Not bad today, Lamb," he said, which was about as close to a compliment as the manager ever got. "You kept the line moving even during the rush. That's what I like to see."
"Thanks, Mr. Morgan," David replied, slightly surprised by the positive feedback.
"Your till balanced too," Mr. Morgan continued. "Keep it up. Maybe I'll put you on register more often."
David forced a smile while internally groaning. "Great. Looking forward to it."
Outside, the evening air had turned chilly. David zipped up his jacket and started the walk home, his mind already drifting to the weekend ahead. He'd have to start his Physics homework tonight if he wanted to make it to the town meeting tomorrow. Maybe he could text Tony afterward to run some practice matches in Battle of the Ancients, assuming Tony wasn't still at Nevin's party.
The town seemed quieter than usual, with fewer people out and about. David supposed the recent disappearances had made everyone more cautious. He found himself walking a little faster, sticking to well-lit streets and avoiding the shortcuts through the park that he might normally take.
Halfway home, he noticed a familiar figure walking ahead of him—Morgan Altura, his hood pulled up against the evening chill. David quickened his pace to catch up.
"Hey, Morgan," he called.
Morgan turned, looking startled until he recognized David. "Oh, hey. Getting off work?"
"Yeah, just finished. You heading home?"
Morgan nodded, falling into step beside him. "I was at the library, trying to finish that history essay. The one on industrial development in the South."
"Right," David grimaced. "I haven't even started that yet."
"It's not due until next week," Morgan shrugged. "But I wanted to get it done before the weekend."
They walked in comfortable silence for a moment before David spoke again. "Have you seen Melissa lately? Is she still acting weird?"
Morgan's expression darkened. "Yeah. She didn't come home last night until like, two in the morning. My parents were freaking out, calling her friends, the whole deal. Then she just walked in like nothing was wrong, said she'd been 'exploring' and went straight to her room."
"Exploring what?"
"She wouldn't say." Morgan kicked at a stone on the sidewalk. "My dad tried to ground her, but she just laughed this really weird laugh and said 'temporal limitations are meaningless in the great design.' Whatever that means."
"That's... concerning," David said, unsure how to respond to such bizarre behavior.
"Tell me about it." Morgan sighed. "My parents think she might be on something. They're talking about drug testing her, maybe therapy. But she's eighteen, so they can't really force her to do anything."
They turned onto Oak Street, where the historic homes were set farther back from the road, large trees casting long shadows in the fading light.
"You still planning to come to the town meeting tomorrow?" David asked.
"Probably. My parents are definitely going. They're pretty freaked out about all these disappearances." Morgan glanced at him. "You going to talk to Francine there?"
David felt his face warm. "Maybe. If I can think of something to say that doesn't make me sound like a complete idiot."
"Just be yourself," Morgan suggested.
"That's what I'm afraid of," David replied with a half-smile.
They reached the corner where their paths diverged, Morgan heading toward the newer subdivision while David continued toward his family's older neighborhood.
"See you tomorrow, then," Morgan said. "Text me when you get to the meeting?"
"Will do."
As David walked the remaining blocks home, he found himself thinking about Melissa's strange behavior and the weird car incident earlier. The town felt different lately—tenser, somehow. Even familiar streets seemed to hold new shadows, and normal interactions carried undertones he couldn't quite interpret.
He was relieved when he finally reached his house, warm light spilling from the windows. Inside, the familiar sounds of his family going about their evening routines welcomed him. His father was in the living room, flipping through a car magazine while the news played quietly on the television. His mother was in the kitchen, the smell of something baking filling the air.
"There he is," his father called as David hung up his jacket. "How was work, son?"
"Fine," David replied automatically. "Pretty normal day."
His mother appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "There's lasagna in the oven if you're hungry. Should be ready in about twenty minutes."
"Thanks, Mom."
"Oh, and David? Ms. Reynolds called from school today. She said you haven't turned in your college application essay yet. The deadline's coming up."
David suppressed a groan. He'd been avoiding the essay for weeks. How was he supposed to write five hundred words about his life goals when he barely knew what he was doing next weekend?
"I'm working on it," he said. "It's just... not quite right yet."
His mother gave him a look that said she wasn't fooled. "Well, work on it harder. Those applications won't submit themselves."
"I know, I know. I'll finish it this weekend, promise."
"Good." She softened slightly. "And honey? Try to get some sleep tonight. You look exhausted."
David nodded and headed upstairs to his room, dropping his backpack on the floor and collapsing into his desk chair. He spun slowly, taking in the familiar surroundings—gaming posters on the walls, a bookshelf stuffed with fantasy novels he'd read in middle school, his computer setup dominating one corner of the room.
The comfortable familiarity of his bedroom should have been reassuring, but tonight it felt almost confining. Like everything else in his life, it represented a version of himself he wasn't sure he wanted to be anymore—the shy gamer kid who faded into the background, who panicked at the thought of talking to a girl, who never quite fit in anywhere.
Maybe the town meeting would be different. Maybe he could find the courage to step outside his comfort zone, to talk to Francine, to be someone other than "space cadet" David Lamb for once.
He turned to his computer and powered it up, opening a blank document for his college essay. The cursor blinked at him accusingly as he stared at the empty page.
Five hundred words about your life goals and aspirations.
David sighed and began to type. My name is David Lamb, and I...
He stopped, deleted the sentence, and tried again. For as long as I can remember, I've been interested in...
Delete.
My future plans include...
Delete.
After twenty minutes of false starts, David had produced exactly three sentences he didn't immediately hate. The smell of lasagna wafting up from the kitchen provided a welcome excuse to take a break. He saved the meager progress and headed downstairs, his stomach rumbling.
Dinner was its usual mixture of family updates and gentle interrogation. Janice dominated the conversation with details about homecoming preparations while their father occasionally interjected with questions about David's day. David kept his answers vague, avoiding any mention of his near-accident or the encounter with Nevin's family.
"There's a town meeting tomorrow night," his mother mentioned as she served second helpings. "About those disappearances. I think we should go."
"Absolutely," his father agreed. "The whole town needs to come together on this. Safety in numbers."
"My shift ends at seven-thirty," David said, trying to sound casual. "Could you pick me up on the way? I'd like to go too."
His mother looked pleased. "Of course. It'll be good for you to get involved in community matters."
Janice raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about town meetings?"
"I care about people disappearing," David replied defensively. "Plus, Francine Holderman specifically mentioned it at lunch today."
As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Janice's expression transformed into delighted comprehension.
"Francine Holderman? That's why you want to go?" She grinned wickedly. "David's got a crush!"
"I do not," David protested, feeling his face heat up. "I just think it's important to... to stay informed about community issues."
"Right," Janice drawled. "Very civic-minded of you. Nothing to do with Francine's bouncy curls or the way you stare at her in history class."
"Janice, leave your brother alone," their mother admonished, though her lips twitched with suppressed amusement. "David, we'll pick you up at work tomorrow. The meeting starts at seven, but I'm sure we won't miss much in the first half hour."
David nodded, focusing intently on his lasagna to avoid his sister's knowing smirk. The rest of dinner passed without further embarrassment, and he escaped back to his room as soon as he'd helped clear the table.
The college essay still waited, the cursor blinking with maddening patience. David tried to force himself to focus, but his mind kept drifting to thoughts of the town meeting, Francine, and what he might say to her if he got the chance.
Eventually, he gave up on the essay and opened Battle of the Ancients instead. The familiar loading screen welcomed him, its animated logo pulsing gently. At least here, things made sense. Clear objectives, defined mechanics, predictable outcomes—everything the real world wasn't.
He logged in and was immediately greeted by a message from Tony.
You online? Check out the new Crystalline Warrior build I'm testing. Meet in practice arena?
David typed back quickly. On my way.
For the next two hours, the complexities of real life faded away as David lost himself in the game's intricate systems. By the time he logged off, it was past midnight, his eyes burning from staring at the screen too long.
He changed and got ready for bed, his thoughts already turning to tomorrow. The town meeting loomed in his mind—a chance to step outside his usual routines, to maybe be someone different for once. Whether that would be a good thing or just another opportunity for humiliation remained to be seen.
As he drifted toward sleep, the image of the elderly woman in the car returned to him—her strange, piercing gaze as she stared at him through the windshield. Something about that look had seemed off, almost as if she'd been seeing something beyond him, something only she could perceive.
Just another weird thing in a town that suddenly seemed full of them. David pulled his blanket closer and closed his eyes, hoping for dreamless sleep untouched by strange red lights or disappearing neighbors or the hundred ways he might embarrass himself in front of Francine Holderman tomorrow night.

End of Chapter

Hello All! Another chapter up. Continuing to write!

Also, a quick note. Yes, the book will get to the Isekai! One thing that usually bugs me a little bit about so many Isekai genre is either how short a time they put into establishing the main character if they’re going to do so in the beginning pre-isekai. Especially in the case of them getting reborn. Either take some time or just have them appear reborn and tell their past in the story. The best ones of course (Such as Jobless Reincarnation and Rising of the Bookworm) do either of those. But seriously, so many have like the equivalent of a half chapter or two of character development and it is so cookie cutter. So, in this one I decided to make a full backstory. Because it shapes Remi. Especially later in the rebirth cycle.

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