The Dead Scout's Handbook of Afterlife Survival

Chapter Twenty-Three: The 8th Night

On the eighth morning after starting their training, they all rested. Each of the past three daybreaks, with their battle location in sight, Sarah scanned over the destination below the mountaintop. Pacing the sunrise became routine for her, no doubt considering how they--an obese untethered, and profoundly uncoordinated wrecking ball, a paraplegic makeup-deficient engineer, a disconnected ice queen, a fortune-teller-machine personified, and a good-old-fashioned dumbass--would take down a force so destructive that few could believe it existed.

Rebecca and Charlie decided to have all-day-date-day after a strangely concerned conversation between Sarah and Rebecca. Cayden, Sarah, and Martha scattered and intermittently congealed throughout the daylight hours for reassurance and advice. Despite a clear schedule and no entertainment aside from thought and conversation, the sun raced to the western horizon.

For their final evening of anticipation, and potentially their final evening of breathing, they assembled the largest bonfire since their arrival. The wavering yellows and reds towered twenty feet into the air. It required a great deal of effort on Cayden's part to prevent the flames from devouring his attention. Meanwhile the group conversed.

"... and another thing, if they're so tough, why did they run from us?" Charlie's voice wavered.

"Either because they're not tough or because they knew they could catch us again. One of those options has been proven true already," Sarah said.

Charlie stood up and began pacing. "Okay, answer me this: why can't we just avoid the town? If we're supposed to fight them there, and we make it impossible for that to happen, wouldn't we not have to fight them at all?"

Martha shrugged. "If what I can foretell is predestination, and we adhere by Novikov's Self Consistency Hypothesis, the events would be protected by some sort of probability distortion."

With a thousand yard stare, Charlie nodded slowly.

Rebecca giggled and spoke. "You lost me at 'if'."

"Say we try to circle the town, a snowstorm blinds us and we lose our way. Suddenly, we find ourselves on Main Street, with The Four thirty feet ahead. Or we might suffer an urgent injury while trying to circumvent the city limits. Where would we locate the medical supplies? The town, of course. You see, the important outcome remains the same."

"Alright. What if Movibof is wrong?" Charlie leaned in, raising his eyebrows.

"A strong possibility... we don't know if he was correct with regard to time travel, and I suppose what I'm doing isn't time travel, anyway. Perhaps we split into multiple universes with different endings. Perhaps space-time falls apart and we perish. There is the possibility that we cut around the town and don't encounter them at all, thus our actions change what I foresee. In such a scenario either my vision of the future distorts, or I keep visions that no longer apply, thus becoming the all-obnoxious goddess of hindsight."

"Why don't we try? Worst case is we end up in exactly the same situation. Why are we debating this? I thought we were locked to this plan!" Sarah glared at the elderly woman beside her.

"No. The predictions aren't great, yet there are infinite worse possibilities and the fight I foresee has some very important benefits. Thus, the worst case scenario is that we suffer no immediate consequences for disturbing the future, and instead, we write one with a far worse result than nine people engaging in fisticuffs."

Charlie faced away. "If that option's out and we're facing them then I've got the most important question: any idea what happens when we die?"

"I'm quite uncertain of that as well. If there was a heaven, you might relocate there, with this universe serving as a mad scientist's layover. Also, there might not be anything."