Ruins of Ivy by Aaron Ramsby

Copyright © 2024 by Aaron Ramsby

All Rights Reserved. 

Cover Design by Jeff Brown Graphics

Edited and proofread by: First Edition: The Motif Edits Team

Second Edition: Madison, Twisted Souls Publishing.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it on a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Aaron Ramsby asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Aaron Ramsby has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

**WARNING** 

While not triggering for over 18, younger readers may find some scenes too much. Proceed with caution.

Dedication:

This book is dedicated to all the people who made this possible.

You know who you are and every one of you mean the world to me.

Special Mention:
Jeff Brown’s cover work that I am proud to present on my book inspired me to go the extra mile.

This book would have been a lesser version without your artwork. My special thanks go out to you.

Find Jeff Brown here:

www.jeffbrowngraphics.com

Contents

1. Mya

2. Flint

3. River

4. River

5. Flint

6. Mya

7. River

8. River

9. Archon

10. River

11. Johnathan

12. Archon

13. Elen

14. River

15. Mya

16. Johnathan

17. Johnathan

18. Johnathan

19. Elen

20. Archon

21. Flint

22. Johnathan

23. Flint

24. Johnathan

25. Flint

26. Mya

27. Johnathan

28. Flint

29. Mya

30. Archon

31. Flint

32. Johnathan

33. Johnathan

34. Johnathan

35. Flint

36. Flint

37. Johnathan

38. Johnathan

39. Archon

40. Flint

41. Johnathan

42. Johnathan

43. Flint

44. Archon

45. Johnathan

Book Two: Forgotten Steel

About the author

1

Mya

Mya watched the auroras dance behind the thin cloud cover streaking the night sky. Dragging her eyes away from the colorful lights, she glanced at the moon. The tormented, beaten-up piece of rock that had hung there her entire life looked sad and lonely tonight. Even the light show couldn’t distract entirely from the sharp, dark valleys and metal plates marring the satellite’s surface. If one believed the stories, humanity had once lived up there—but looking up at it tonight just proved how impossible that was. If humanity were meant to fly, they would have long ago grown wings.

Cold penetrated her leather shirt, dragging her from her thoughts and causing her to shiver. Pushing off the scrap-metal wall she had been leaning against, she took a moment to adjust her clothing, make herself more comfortable. Wearing little more than a shirt, leather pants, and basic, handmade leather boots didn’t provide her with a lot of insulation from the cold. It was a good thing the lights in the sky weren’t brighter, as they would otherwise have given away her position. Looking down at the ground, showed her she was still well within the sizeable area of shadow she hid in but glanced up at the top of the wall just in case.

Satisfied, she turned away from the wall and tried to focus on the fields before her. Tall razor grass, about shoulder height, danced in the soft breeze. While it was only a meter away, it was a danger she had to keep aware of. The dark-green mass might tempt newcomers to walk through it in order to get a better view of the sky. However, like most things in this world, the real dangers remained hidden from view. As beautiful as the grass was, its leaves were treacherous, sharp as a blade. Anyone daring enough to walk through them would commit a slow suicide.

The grass was an effective defense for the village. Few outside attackers ended up surviving the first few meters of the fields, causing most to turn back in bloodied fear. Then there was the wildlife that ran through the grass, trying to outrun some dangerous predator. Little did they know they were killing themselves by hiding within—at least they provided an excellent source of meat if you were careful collecting it.

Mya swept her long auburn hair away from her face and took a moment to look down from her vantage point. It was a beautiful night and easy to take in the majestic view thanks to the lights above. Tiny ripples of color covered the surface of the lake that lay at the base of the hill, dancing in flawless symmetry with the sky above. A sight to behold.

Beyond the lake, ruins reared up, breaking through the tops of the encroaching forest. Over her brief life, she had watched the concrete relics of a past age slowly being reclaimed. It was a sad reminder of all the things the world had lost.

She glanced up again to check if the guards had spotted her, but movement pulled her attention to the left. A twig snapped—an incredibly loud noise in the still night. Her head snapped toward the dangerous sound. Eyes scanning the shadows, trying to find the source of the disturbance. Pulling a knife from its sheath strapped to her thigh, she prepared herself for a fight. With her blade leading the turn, Mya placed herself in a defensive posture, waiting for movement. She flexed and relaxed her fingers, which were wrapped around the knife, holding it steady in front of her. It was moments like this that kept people behind their walls, and why she so often struggled to sneak out of the stifling protections at night.

A large being shrouded in inky blackness stepped out from behind one of the many columns that supported the wall. She mentally went over the possibilities of what this shadowed being could be. Guards only stayed up on the walls or patrolled within the confines of the settlement for their own protection. Scavs weren’t smart enough to survive getting this far without cutting themselves up while running through the grass. This being was far too tall and humanoid to be a Mutrog—monstrous mutations of what had once been dogs. While they roamed randomly around the area, she had not heard of one coming this far in a long time. It left her with few possibilities. Either it was something new that nature had come up with to throw at the village—or it was the reason she had been waiting out here on such a cold, beautiful night.

The inky darkness moved and flowed as the being stalked closer to her position. Mya bit her lip, even though it was a bad habit to show nervousness to her opponent. The figure grew as it closed the distance between them.

Shifting her feet, Mya tried to make the terrible choice: make a loud noise to get the guards’ attention, attack, or run? None of those options sounded great if she was being honest with herself. If she called out, the guards would support her—that is, if they arrived in time to help, and she lived long enough to see them. And then the villagers would throw her into the pit for several days for breaking the law. Attacking would probably lead to the same outcome, even if she won the fight.

Then there was running. That was a terrible risk if this was a predator. Fleeing could cause it to see her as prey. It would leave her with no way to defend herself. There was no option here that really benefited her; all she could do was hold her ground and wait.

The dark figure grew in height, towering above her slight form. She forced herself to look up and could only guess where its head was, given its humanoid stature.

Watching wearily, the dark figure stepped toward her. Mya’s knees felt twitchy; her body wanted to run, but she held her ground through sheer willpower. Then the dark figure took another step forward, and she took a step back. She tried not to hate herself for showing such weakness.

A deep baritone voice filled with a low-grade growl broke the silence. “You know it’s dangerous out here. What are you doing, standing there like that? Waiting to be caught?”

Stepping out into the flickering light of the aurora, Mya watched as the inky shadow receded from the light. She felt her muscles relax as a large humanoid wolf took form.

Like many people who had survived the aftermath of the ancient times, this man was one of many who emulated the natural world. He had a body that mimicked the wolf in many aspects. Tall ears framed his face, and his long, steel-gray muzzle looked menacing, even when smiling as he was doing now. He might have appeared constantly angry if not for his big, black, wet nose and those soft brown eyes of his. If you could look past the fact that he stood on only two feet and possessed hands, he could have been one of those long-lost canine species from the ancient picture books, even without a tail.

Crossing his arms, her best friend Flint smiled like he had something over on her. Frowning, she rolled her eyes and said in a sarcastic voice, “The only one who’s about to get caught is you, you colossal idiot. You’re standing in the light.”

She watched as Flint instinctively looked up before jumping next to the metal wall to hide in the shadows. Upon seeing him scratch his head as if she had caught him doing something wrong, Mya couldn’t help but grin.

To their benefit, he had dressed as she had, and they both blended in well with the shadows. An open leather vest and long leather shorts made up his limited clothing options. Much like when they had been kids, he had his customary backpack strapped to his shoulders. She had seen him wear this same outfit practically every day of their lives.

She occasionally wondered what it would be like to have fur like his. How would it feel when it rained? Or when his clothes rubbed against his fur. She thought about what color tones her fur would have and if she’d need someone to brush it for her the way she has to brush her hair.

When Flint finally smiled, looking like his normal relaxed self, Mya allowed herself to stand up. Even in shadow, it was easy to see his long canines and sharp teeth. He could come across as very confident—until his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, ruining the effect, much like it was doing now.

“What took you? If we don’t get going, we’ll get caught! Is that what you want?” Despite her stern words, her face broke into a wide smile, excitement etched across her features.

Shrugging, with his eyes downcast, Flint mumbled his reply, “Sorry. Everyone was partying over the news that a Maker was coming to town. Got caught up in it.”

As quiet as wraiths, the two friends stalked along the village wall, stopping periodically to listen for signs of danger. The villagers prohibited anyone from going out at night for good reasons: those who were not careful would end up dead.

When they got to the shadow’s edge, they stopped. Looking over her shoulder, Mya saw the tension in Flint’s face—the two of them indeed risked their lives each time they snuck out like this. A pang of guilt hit her gut, despite knowing she’d never stop exploring night or day. Her behavior put not only herself but Flint in harm’s way. Yet how could she do it without him? He had been her constant companion since that first day he’d come to the village so many years ago.

In a hushed whisper, she asked, “Are you ready, big guy?”

With a tight nod from Flint, Mya led the way through a small hidden path the villagers used. It led safely between the razor grass. Stopping short, she looked over her shoulder past Flint. Before she could allow the two of them to break from cover and race to the tree line, she needed to make sure it would be safe. Her eyes traced the top of the wall in either direction, seeking the telltale twinkle of the lantern lights the guards used to look for danger. There appeared to be no guards present at the corner of the wall closest to them.

Heart thrumming in her chest, she broke from the razor grass’s cover and ran toward the clump of trees a few meters away. The sound of Flint’s heavy steps let her know he was on her tail as she ran straight into the shadows. A few yards in, Mya let out a soft sigh and slowed down to a casual trot.

When the two friends arrived at a clearing within the forest, Mya glanced back at Flint. Trying to hide her excitement, Mya turned serious.

“Did you bring everything? You know how you get when you’re excited.”

Mya couldn’t help a small smile as Flint placed his hand against his chest in mock surprise. Rolling his shoulders, he let his backpack slip around his torso into his hands.

As the light from above played off the pack’s glossy surface, Mya shuddered. Printed on it was the image of a little girl with large brown eyes… her mouth missing all its teeth. It had been a gift to him years ago from her father. Ever since that moment, Mya had felt the old-world image was creepy. The little girl’s eyes seemed to stare at anyone who had the misfortune of making eye contact.

Flint, being immune to the harsh stare of the imaginary little girl, none-too-gently opened the bag to rummage for things they might need. Being somewhat of a collector, one never knew what odds or ends he might unexpectedly pull from his bag. Mya watched as a bundle of handwoven rope spilled out of it without Flint even noticing as he rifled through his treasure trove.

Mya directed her eyes to the surrounding area, scanning it for danger. Even in the dark, nothing appeared to have changed since she was last here. The forest was alive with animals that she could easily hear, even if she couldn’t see them. Her eyes landed on the small mound in the center of the clearing—the reason they had come here tonight—when a remark by Flint pulled her attention back to him.

“Aha! I found it.”

His hand came out of the pack holding a collection of dried meat strips. While they could make for a great snack, these held another, more important use tonight.

“Okay, so you have something to feed the Mutrogs to distract them if they find us out here. Should I pat you on the back for that?” Mya gave him a sarcastic smile, lessening the harshness of the comment.

Flint rolled his eyes. Being friends for so long, they had gotten used to one another’s barbs, grown thick skin over the years. Dropping the meat back into the open backpack, Flint let his tongue loll to the side of his mouth before biting on it softly as he concentrated. Once his hands hit upon what he was looking for, he looked up at Mya with a winning smile as he pulled out a small glass container of brackish liquid.

“If you think I’m not prepared, I guess I should throw away this liquid stink, right? I mean, without it, I’m sure the Scavs in the area will have a wonderful time entertaining you.”

She openly shivered in revulsion; even closed, the container emanated a noxious smell due to the dried-on remains coating the lid. Mya couldn’t help but be thankful that he had locked away most of the smell in the jar. When that stuff got wet, it was worse than falling into the latrines, and it stayed on your skin for days.

“Don’t drop that!” she hissed. “Last time you did, we smelled like crap for over a week. What did you even put into this one?”

Flint shrugged. “Do you really wish to know? Or should I just keep it a secret, so you don’t feel tempted to run when the time comes to use it?”

He smiled as Mya audibly gagged at the thought of them purposefully spreading the liquid across their bodies.

A few moments passed in silence before she said, “Put that away before I throw up, would you? If I end up getting sick because of you, I’ll rub whatever’s left in that jar on your mattress when we get home.”

She smiled evilly at him to make sure he understood she was being serious. Her smile only widened when he swallowed and frowned, clearly imagining what that would be like.

She felt a little more at ease as Flint placed the container back into the safety of his backpack.

“I know you wouldn’t do that, Mya. You talk big, but when it comes to a real retaliation, it never happens. It’s one of the things I like about you. We may be grouchy at times, but we always have each other’s back.”

She narrowed her eyes, and it made her smile even creepier, causing Flint to back up and bump into a tree. The sight of such a big guy who towered over her, fearing what she might do, had laughter escaping from between her lips. She quickly slapped her hand over her mouth, biting it back as she tried to reassure Flint with a sweet smile.

“Now, would I really do something like that to you?”

Flint’s over-exaggerated nod almost sent Mya into another fit of laughter, so she closed her eyes and pointed her head toward the ground. A few moments passed as she fought back the giggles.

Wiping away tears, she looked up at Flint and said, “Okay. Enough joking around, alright? We’ll get caught if we keep this up. Do you have something to dig with? I mean, you have just about everything in that pack of yours, right?”

Flint’s face lit up and Mya couldn’t help but remember the little boy he had been so many years ago. In some ways, he never seemed to change, and she took great comfort in that.

He whispered, “I have just the thing.”

Forcefully, he thrust a random container into Mya’s hands. She grabbed it with reluctance. Random items followed as Flint searched through his cavernous backpack. In a matter of moments, Flint filled up Mya’s arms with water skins, two types of rope, an old compass, and several oddities from the old world.

When the torrent of things finally stopped, she looked up from her armload of items to see Flint smiling at her. He held out in front of him a collection of twisted metal.

Glancing from the many pieces in his hands to Flint’s happy, open-mouthed face, Mya held her skepticism at bay.

In a serious tone, she asked, “How are we supposed to dig with those?” Flint rolled his eyes, and she had to smile. His hands twisted, turned, and snapped the metal pieces into place, and in moments, a useful object took shape. Mya had to admit it looked like a shovel, even if only one a toddler might use. Sarcasm laced her voice when she asked, “Is that it?”

He gave her a hurt look, and Mya immediately knew she’d taken her barbs too far. Not allowing him time to make some pitiful reply, she pushed the rope and other odd bits of old-world strangeness she was holding toward him. He fumbled to take them from her; half of the stuff fell to the ground. She turned her back on him to hide a smile as she heard things continue to hit the ground.

Mya realized they were wasting time—there was a reason they were there tonight. Turning around, she muttered an apology and helped stuff Flint’s collection back inside his backpack.

His ears wiggled in satisfaction as she said, “Let’s go, big guy. We’ve got some exploring to do.”

Swooping down with a long arm, Flint grabbed the last of the odds and ends of the old-world he held in his pack and stowed them. He closed the bag and swung it onto his back while keeping the small shovel in his free hand. The two strode over to the small mound of dirt in the center of the clearing and paused.

Looking around the open area with a smile, Mya asked, “First things first; do you sense anything?”

Flint looked around, sniffing, his snout wiggling furiously as his ears pulled back accompanied by a low growl that vibrated her bones. Goosebumps broke out across her skin.

“M, I smell something. We should get out of here. It doesn’t feel safe.”

Turning to Flint, she noticed his ears were flat against his head.

As he shook his head, she asked quietly, “What is it?”

“There’s a foul smell in the air. Not like manure bad, but enough to make my skin crawl. Old metal and… something else.”

Setting her jaw, Mya nodded.

“I had a feeling this place would be interesting. Look, when have I ever really gotten you into trouble? I mean, this place can’t be that bad, right?” Usually, she listened to her friend’s instincts, but tonight her greed and curiosity were getting the better of her. Ignoring him, she stepped around the small dirt mound she’d been inspecting. Putting her hands on her hips, she waited for Flint to acknowledge this discovery she’d made during a rare solo outing days ago. When nothing happened, she sighed and said, “Really?”

Flint cocked his head and shrugged. “What do you want me to see? It’s a mound of dirt with some grass growing out of it. Or is this some special grass? Maybe it sings? Right, I think I got it… does it tell you how wonderful a person you are?”

Groaning, Mya rolled her eyes as she bent over and moved aside the loose clump of grass with her hand. Amid the dirt, a faded plastic sign lay face up. Flint tried to decipher the writing as he struggled to read it out loud.

“A-N-T-R-Y… ‘Antry?’ What does that mean? This isn’t a sign for ants, is it?”

Flint was immediately on full alert; having never forgotten the time they’d been exploring and fallen into an ant den. If not for a group of hunters in the area coming to their aid, they might not have been here now.

Taking a deep breath, Mya tried to calm Flint’s nerves.

“I promise there are no ants. The sign’s broken. See here?” She pointed at a crack that had split the sign right before the A. “This sign is ancient. I suspect there’s something buried here. See now why I was so excited?”

Flint raised one eyebrow, a look of skepticism on his face. He remained skeptical. If she didn’t butter him up—and fast—he’d insist on going home and tonight would be a total loss.

“Come on, big guy. We’re here already. It’s perfectly safe. I mean, really… when’s the last time I’ve landed us in trouble?”

Flint’s groan was all she needed to hear. She refused to believe the danger was as bad as he feared. Though if she was being honest, she had gotten them in trouble enough times to fill an entire Lore Keeper’s storybook. Yet Flint’s nose rarely lied.

Crossing her arms, feeling at a loss for how to proceed, she glared at Flint.

“What?” he said in a low tone. “What’s that look supposed to mean? I mean, yeah, the sign freaks me out, but other than that, there’s nothing here…”

Despite his words, his ears were poking up; it was clear he was curious.

Seizing her chance, Mya asked, “Okay, so we’ve found an ancient sign on the ground indicating there’s a ruin around here… where do you think we should look?”

He stopped for a moment, scratched his chin, and looked around the clearing. Mya knew just how smart he was, but sometimes he missed the obvious, so she helped.

“Okay, let’s think about this: do you see any ruins about?”

Looking at her, he shook his head. Licking her lips so she wouldn’t blurt the answer out, Mya waited for him to think. The silence stretched out almost to the point of agony—then Flint looked down at the shovel in his hands.

“Oh. You think it’s buried?”

Lips pressed together in a fine line, Mya held her hand out for the shovel. With the cold metal in hand, she set to work. Flint walked a few paces away, then sat down to watch.

Although the shovel was small, the ground was loose enough to dig into easily. Time passed quickly as she shoveled one clump after another into a small pile. When her arms ached, she pushed past it. Then her back ached. She glanced up occasionally at Flint, who had his eyes closed, and she swore she caught him snoring once or twice.

Trying to focus on what they might find instead of allowing herself to get annoyed at his laziness, she continued the monotonous work. Like a pot over a fire, her anger threatened to bubble over.

Finally, Mya stood up and stretched the muscles in her back. It was disheartening to see herself standing in a hole less than a third of a meter down. With all the work she had put into it, she’d expected better.

Refusing to look in Flint’s direction, she spoke, anger laced her voice. “Well?”

“Huh? What? Sorry, M. You wanted help, right?”

Flint’s sleep-slurred voice made her fume. Closing her eyes, she took a long, calming breath. When she dared open her eyes, she found him looking down at her from the edge of her hole. She wiped sweat-stained bangs from her face.

“So, you gonna help me or what?”

To her abject horror, his only response was a few slow blinks before holding his hand out to her. It always surprised her to see how his palm dwarfed her entire hand. Mya reached up, and his strong, fur-covered fingers grasped her hand. She prepared herself—then her feet flew off the ground as Flint pulled her up with far more force than she’d have preferred. She landed unceremoniously to the left of the hole.

Flint stepped down into the hole, yet still towered over her smaller frame. It was moments like these that made their height difference clear. His face cocked at an angle. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Mya held the shovel out for him to take. She watched as he looked down at her offering, and to her frustration, he chuffed loudly.

“Really, Mya?”

“Don’t you need this to dig, you big lug?”

“Why would I need something puny like that? I brought that for you, silly.”

Laughing loudly, Flint turned his back to her and bent over at the waist. Feeling a little awkward seeing him from behind, Mya directed her gaze toward the night sky. The dancing lights allowed her to let the anger slip away, so much so she didn’t notice when something hit her square in the chest.

Absently wiping at it, she took in the natural beauty of the forest clearing at night. A sight that was a rare event for one who stayed within the walls of the village.

Then another small black object whizzed past her head, causing her to turn to see what had almost hit her. She turned back to Flint to ask if he had seen anything, only to find a fountain of dirt flying in her general direction. Opening her mouth to say something, she quickly regretted that choice and closed it, waving her hands in front of her as she stumbled out of the path of the deluge of dirt.

As she wiped away dust and clods of mud off her clothing, Flint stood up.

His cheeky voice grated on her nerves when he said, “I’d be more careful if I were you. I hear dirt can go flying around me at the most inopportune times. Something you should watch out for.”

Flint silently laughed as Mya’s jaw dropped to the ground. She jumped aside as he went back to work. What had been taking her a considerable amount of time took Flint only moments.

A massive mound of dirt piled up in no time, almost to the point of falling back into the hole, at which point she said something.

“Um, I think you’ve done enough, Flint. It doesn’t look like anything’s buried here after all. Maybe we should try again a few meters away?”

Though she was dirty and badly in need of a bath, Flint made her look clean by comparison. His nose, arms, and feet had taken on the color of mud. Mya backed up as he shook himself, causing a small dust cloud to spread. Clumps of dirt fell and landed with hollow thuds. It was clear he was having fun; his tongue lolled to the side as he panted softly.

“I’m having some difficulty,” he said. “There are lots of pieces of concrete that I keep jamming my fingers against. Do you think it’s something we should be worried about?”

Mya scrunched up her face and walked over to the pile of dirt next to the hole. Moving closer made it clear there was a small pile of broken concrete chunks embedded within.

Concerned, but trying to sound confident, she said, “Maybe we should get some actual hunters out here before we keep going? I’m having second thoughts about doing this alone at night.”

He cocked his head, thinking. “Okay. But I thought you didn’t want the others out here before we figured out if there’s something below?”

Mya nodded.

“Alright. I’ll stop digging. Hey, when you were digging, did the ground here feel sorta… funny to you?”

Mya said, “What do you mean—”

A sharp crack split the night. The surrounding forest went silent as a plume of dirt exploded into the air, engulfing Flint. When it cleared, he was nowhere to be seen.

Unable to hold back her fear, Mya screamed, “Flint!”

2

Flint

A thin layer of dirt covered the pads on Flint’s feet. Below the shallow covering were patches of a brittle surface exposed to the night sky. He glanced down and saw they possessed a semi-reflective quality that reminded him of the odd bobbles that traders would bring to the village. The only difference between the trader’s goods and the surface he stood on was that it was less see-through. There was a hazy-gray color to the material. It felt perfectly smooth and gave slightly as he shifted his weight.

Lifting his head to Mya, he asked if she’d noticed it when she was digging.

Mya frowned and said, “What do you—”

A loud cracking sound overshadowed any further words, causing his ears to fold back in pain. A distant part of his mind noticed a dust cloud exploding in the surrounding air, but the lack of feeling under his feet took priority. Blinded by the dust, a falling sensation exploded in his stomach. Wind whipped around him. He grabbed for the sides of the pit he had carved out of the soft soil, but the walls caved in as his body weight dragged him down.

The freefall lasted but a moment before his feet hit and scattered unseen objects below him. The ground seemed to buckle, and his legs flew out from under him. He landed hard on a strange surface. The backpack forced his spine forward in an uncomfortable bulge. Before he could register how painful his landing had been, the sound of metal giving permeated the surrounding area. Unable to do anything about it, the surface he had landed on tilted down, causing his body weight to pull him to the right.

As he slipped off the edge, his body forcefully expelled the air from his lungs when he collided with a solid pile of dirt. Painfully, but with purpose, he raised himself up. His lungs gasped for air as they desperately tried to refill. Shaking his head to clear the mental fog, he looked around to get his bearings. Turning his head to the left, pain greeted the movement. Trying not to aggravate any potential injury, he turned his head to the right and looked up over his shoulder.

Ambient light fought its way down through the hole he had just fallen through, struggling with the dust to make its presence known. What little light passed through illuminated the small area around him, barely brightening the inky darkness that engulfed his surroundings.

From his new perspective—one that didn’t involve bouncing him around like a ball—he could glean a better understanding of what was around him. To his left and right stood row upon row of painted metal shelves that ran off into the darkness. It was easy to see that his weight had been too much for one shelf, causing its supports to break and dip down at an angle.

High above, Mya gasped. Flint looked up and found her peering down at him, eyes filled with horror. Tears streaked down her cheeks. Shaking his head hard, Flint heard a hollow pop, and the world came rushing in at him.

“Flint? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Please speak to me!”

Opening his mouth, Flint tried to respond, but all that came out was a croak followed by a bout of coughing. Pushing himself up from the dirt, he shifted his weight so he could sit on his legs. Pounding his chest a few times to encourage his lungs to fill, he tried again. In a raspy, loud voice that held almost none of his natural baritone, he called up to her.

“I’m okay! Sorry for scaring you. The ground fell away beneath me.”

Clods of dirt rained down as Mya fell to her knees. A low crack echoed around Flint as a rock hit the edge of the flat material he’d been standing on. His heart lodged in his throat as he waited for the opening to erode further, but when nothing happened, he breathed a sigh of relief. Knowing Mya was safe helped him focus on what was important. There was little he could see by the light filtering down from above.

Licking his nose, he blew out, clearing his nostrils. Taking a deep breath, he sniffed, searching for what might be hidden in the dark. All he could pick out was dust and the bitter stench of old air. The only sound was the falling bits of dirt still raining down on him, and his own movements. No imminent danger from what he could tell. Everything appeared safe, and this pleased him greatly.

Taking the time to check the damage caused by the fall, he carefully felt his way across his body. There was no scent of blood—that was a good sign. He found his right side was tender, but everything else seemed to be in working order. If he was as bruised as he suspected, his coat would hide them, which was one of the many advantages of having fur. It was great when no one could tell you’d made a big mistake like this.

Grinning, he continued checking himself out by rolling his right shoulder. There was minor pain and a small clicking noise, but nothing that would impede his movements. Given he had certainly taken worse falls, he knew he could live with the pain. What was important was finding a way out of here.

Easing the backpack off, Flint searched inside for one of the most miraculous things he’d ever owned. Feeling the cold metal tube in his hand brought him so much relief that it surprised him. Feeling along the top of the tube, he searched for the small trigger that would activate it.

Light exploded out the top of the tube, shooting a beam up to the ceiling, lighting up his general surroundings. Shielding his eyes against the beam’s radiance, he gave them a few moments to adjust before cautiously opening them. What he saw left him confused and a little awestruck.

The design and craftsmanship of the shelves were a marvel to behold. A thin off-white coating that had yellowed with age covered every surface of the metal shelves before him. The metalwork was far beyond the village’s current ability to craft, but what was more startling lay upon the shelves. Small, grayish rectangular shapes stood in line after line along the shelves. What they had once been, he couldn’t begin to guess. Pushing himself up from his seated position, Flint looked around and his mouth dropped in surprise.

Before he could inspect and confirm what he was seeing was real, a harsh, if not caring, voice called down.

“Hello? Are you still alive down there? Flint, if you don’t answer me, so help me…”

Flint looked up, and a smile tugged at his lips. It struck him as funny that a part of him wanted to know how she might finish that comment, but then his brain shut that desire down instantly—experience had taught him Mya could be scary when she wanted to be.

He chuckled at an old memory of one of her scarier moments: the time she’d dropped a black-hooded spider on him. Sure, they weren’t poisonous, but the thing had to have been half a meter in size. How she hadn’t been afraid of it herself, he didn’t know.

Shivering at the thought of that long-legged creature falling on him, he called up to her.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. The thing I was standing on broke. I sorta fell.”

Flint scratched his head as he smiled up at Mya’s illuminated silhouette. She sucked in a deep breath, which was a relief in some ways. It was also gut-wrenching to hear, since he figured she was trying to hold back her personal fears.

To assuage the oncoming storm, Flint tried to distract her.

“Give me a moment and I’ll find something to throw up there for you to climb down, okay?”

The dead silence that followed was a significant sign of how this night was going to play out. But this find was way too good to get caught up in a fight, so he mentally shoved past the dark thoughts gathering in his mind. If they could take even one set of shelves back with them, it could be life-changing for whomever received it. Shelves like these would make smoking thicker chunks of meat easier, or drying plant fibers for weaving—the list of possibilities went on and on in Flint’s head, threatening to steal his focus.

Chiding himself a bit, he forced himself to stay present in the moment.

With a critical eye, he inspected the opening he had fallen through with the help of the metal-tube lantern in his hand. The bright beam picked up the outline of a boxlike metallic structure holding the thin material he’d been previously standing on. It took him a moment, but his mind figured out what the object had been. It was the metal box that had been holding a badly placed window.

Why would anyone want to install a window on a roof?

Shaking his head at the stupidity of the ancients, he smiled as a plan formed in his head. After rummaging in his backpack for a few moments, he pulled out a rope and called out to his friend.

“Okay, Mya, can you hear me?”

“Unless you’re some talking tree—yeah, I can hear you, Flint. What do you want this time?”

Flinching, he continued before he lost his thought process.

“I need you to step back, please.”

“Okay? And why would I do that?”

Flint shook his head. She could be so stubborn.

“I’m going to toss a rope up there. Please stay back in case I miss and hit the thing you’re standing on—um, it might be fragile.”

With his large hand wrapped firmly around the bundle of rope, he gauged the distance it would have to fly to land safely above. He threw it up through the hole and smiled when Mya grunted—she’d grabbed onto the rope before it could slip back through the hole.

“If you can find a big tree to tie it around…” Flint’s words died out as Mya’s frustrated voice called down a jabber of words he couldn’t make out. He continued, “… yes, the rope should work wonders. Just try to be careful on your way down. There could be some sharp corners. It seems like I fell through some glass on the way down, or at least something like it.”

With that minor complication solved, Flint panned the light across the ceiling to inspect the cave’s structure and watch out for possible weak spots. Licking his lips, he blinked a few times, barely able to comprehend what he had found. In the shadowed area above were layers of rusted, dust-encased spars and support structures.

A set pattern covered the ceiling of the cavern. The collection of metal struts was a black mass of rust and some strange minerals that glittered back at him under the power of the light. Shaking his head at how silly that sounded, he turned around to check on Mya’s progress.

The sound of debris falling caused Flint to whip the light behind him. Before him, the light disappeared into the distance. He located the nearest beam that disappeared into the distance, then traced the tops of the chest-high metal shelves. Nothing.

Turning to his left, the light played across two sets of shelving units before terminating against the wall of the cave. White square, glassy surfaces reflected the light back at him. The cave wall displayed the patterned material in an even distribution.

Playing the light down one wall, Flint found some areas that had broken open, exposing gaps between the lattice of rusty metal bars. Following one particularly large crack, he let the beam follow its growth. With his attention so focused on what he was viewing, he almost missed the musty smell that blew past him. Sniffing the air pointedly, he found no sign of where the unfamiliar scent had come from and so turned his attention back to the wall.

He was so taken by his curiosity that he didn’t notice the noises echoing within the surrounding chamber. Using his light beam, he followed the damage along the wall as it twisted into a chaotic path.

As the light coned over a vast collection of cracks, something grabbed his backpack. He crouched down and swung his arm out forcefully, unintentionally knocking over several items from the nearby shelf as he turned. His fist flew up fast with a low punch.

The beam of light led the path of the punch and landed squarely on Mya’s face as she screamed in surprise. At the last possible moment, he let his hand go slack and pulled his punch, much to the distress of his hurt shoulder.

Mya’s shocked face gazed down at him in disbelief. Like a flip of a switch, Flint watched her scared eyes burn with anger. He casually deflected the frustrated slaps she threw in his direction as she screeched at him.

“Why would you try to hit me? You big lug. You told me to follow you down here, you idiot!”

Standing to his full height, Flint couldn’t meet her eyes. Shame burned his cheeks under his fur. He waited as Mya huffed and puffed a few times. When she finally calmed down, he risked a glance in her direction, raised his head carefully, and offered an embarrassed smile.

“You attacked me first… I mean, you grabbed my backpack without even announcing you’d made it down here.”

“Whatever.”

“Have you looked around yet? This place is incredible.”

Mya rolled her eyes. As soon as she turned to look at what was on the shelves, her face immediately brightened. Her hands flew over the different shelves, picking up random items. Most of what he could see were piles of mush, dust, and random bits of metal or plastic. All important things if one knew what to do with them, but sadly, he wasn’t really the person to ask about that.

Mya was excited, words tumbling from her mouth, making her smile grow.

“I wonder what this did?” she asked, picking up a random item. Putting it back down, she smeared her thumb across the plastic window of another. “Why would anyone hide stuff under all this dust? Ah-ha! I was looking for one of these.”

Flint’s ears perked up a little, and he held himself back from asking what she was talking about as she turned to him. Clasped to her chest was a small package, roughly the size of a plate but several times thicker. A yellowish clear plastic covered the item, with a black, heavy band running under the top of the container. With her arms covering most of it, he couldn’t help himself out shot his question. “What is it? I can’t see what you’re holding.”

“Here, take a look.”

She smiled up at him as she held out the package. Carefully plucking it from her hands, Flint frowned. It was clearly ancient, the outer casing cracked and brittle. Behind the yellowish film, the black band ended in what seemed like a ball cut in half. Within the package, there was a moldy piece of paper and a marred image of a blond boy smiling.

The boy was wearing the black object. Half a ball on each ear, with the black band set upon the top of the boy’s crown like a headband. The child’s teeth gleamed in an infectious smile. He moved the light to get a better view of the object and discovered most of the words were too damaged to read, but some were still legible. In what might have once been bright-blue lettering in an age long past were the words:

BLU TOOTH.

Glancing at Mya, then back at the image, Flint focused on the child’s mouth. His teeth seemed perfectly fine to him. Not blue at all.

Raising an eyebrow at Mya skeptically, he asked the stupid question she was clearly waiting for. “Okay… so, what does it do for you to have wanted this for so long?”

When Mya scoffed at him, he cocked his head, feeling confused by this whole thing. She had a history of knowing what ancient things were, or at least claiming to. It took little prompting to get the reaction he expected.

“Stop being silly. You can see what the item does. Look again, idiot.”

By the sound of her voice, it was clear she was enjoying this. Pondering hard on what the image and the words meant, Flint pushed on into the muddy waters. No matter what he’d say next, she’d tell him he was wrong, so he went for the lowest-hanging fruit.

“It… makes your teeth look normal? I mean, I’ve never heard of anyone with blue teeth, but this must solve that problem, right?”

The withering look she threw him gave her next comment an extra punch.

“Flint, you’re smarter than that. When’s the last time you’ve ever heard of someone having blue teeth?” Shrugging, he watched as she sighed resignedly. “Fine! You’re so dense.” She tapped the container. “See here? The kid’s happy, right?” Flint didn’t respond to the first part of her statement, as acting stupid was more a tactic to get out of things he didn’t want to do. Looking at the image of the child, the boy looked happy enough. She had him there. Glancing at her, he didn’t have to wait long for an answer. “Well? Aren’t you happy when your ears are warm?”

Flint shrugged. Mya’s sarcastic tone forced him to keep a passive face, but he was enjoying this. He knew she’d burn up on the inside from his lack of response.

“These are ear warmers. The kid’s happy his ears are warm. Aren’t you happy when your ears are warm?”

The disbelief Flint felt must have shown on his features, because dismay clouded Mya’s eyes, and she was hurt that he didn’t believe her. Plastering his most honest-looking smile on his face, he tried to appease her. He nodded his head supportively and shrugged at her, implying he agreed. Ancient things were rarely what they first appeared to be. Glancing down at his hand torch, it was a great visual reminder of that exact concept. It looked like a metal rod with a glass tip, yet it had the power to light up the darkness.

Having known her for so long, he didn’t ask before grabbing the package and placing it into his backpack. Sometime later, he figured some trader or one of the older people in the village would correct Mya on her beliefs about the item. For now, it wasn’t worth arguing over. It was clearly an ancient device that had been useful for someone… even if they had made a mistake in the spelling.

Mya moved past him and further down the aisle in her search for more artifacts.

“Um… Flint?”

When he heard her voice, he looked up, flashed the beam of light in her general direction, and what was revealed left him dumbfounded. In a break between the shelving aisles was a large platform, long ago rotted into in a pile where Mya crouched, sifting through the remains.

As he drew up to her and shone the light down on the collection of dust, debris, and refuse, her delicate hands grabbed onto something solid. She uncovered a dark-yellow pole topped with a handle that looked like a reversed letter D. Reaching out, he offered her his hand to help her stand up. Displayed in the harsh beam of light was the yellow pole, one end with the odd handle and the other pronged with four shining metal tines.

The giant fork looked unwieldy for a weapon, especially so for someone Mya’s size. When their gazes met, he found a wistful look in her eyes as she smiled guiltily up at him. Flint had known her long enough to understand that she was clearly up to something. In a sweet tone filled with curiosity, she asked him a question, though he almost missed it, so taken he was by the glimmer in her eyes.

“Do you think the old books were wrong? I mean, this sorta shows us a different view of things…”

Shrugging, Flint said, “Not sure. What do you think the old books are wrong about? I mean… it’s just a giant fork?” He flashed her an apologetic smile.

Pursing her lips, Mya clearly didn’t wish to return the favor. “I said, do you think the old books are wrong? I mean, look at this thing… it’s huge.”

Cocking his head, Flint gave her a flustered look.

“I heard everything you said. You should stop being so mean, or I’ll stop following you around every day. Instead of a snarky comment, why not share with me what you think the old books got wrong this time? As you have such an extensive history of being correct…”

Flint smiled at Mya’s exasperated sigh.. He knew he’d hit a sore spot.

It was nice to hear the humor in her voice when she said, “What I’m saying is, if they were using forks like this… maybe the ancient people were a lot larger than they wanted people to believe? Either that or…”

Flint’s ears popped up when she had left him hanging for a few long moments.

“Either that or… or what?”

Her enormous smile told him she’d been baiting him. Feeling a little foolish, he waited for her response.

“Well, they were either huge, or they ate like you. Remember that pie-eating contest you won several seasons back?”

It had been one of the best days of his life. Having a job of eating pies all day long? Who could have passed on that? And in truth, she had a point. He had eaten so many pies that such a large fork might have helped. He smiled so wide his tongue lolled out to the side. Images of him sitting with an open mouth and Mya shoveling pies into it using the fork flashed through his mind. Closing his eyes, he licked his lips hungrily.

Suddenly, eyes still closed, his ears picked up a small sound echoing through the cavern’s depths. Instead of ruining his focus, he kept his eyes closed and attuned his attention to his hearing. Turning his head in different directions, he tried to track down where the sound was coming from. A tapping noise sounded from a few aisles away. A musty scent prickled his nose as his ears zeroed in on the sound.

Mya’s cold, small hand on his chest broke his concentration. Opening his eyes, he looked down and saw a trace of fear etched on her face. Glancing at her hand holding the fork, he noticed her grip was tight enough to cause the hand to go white.

In a brittle voice, she asked, “Everything okay, big guy? You were out of it for a moment. Did you hear something?”

Trying to ease her fears, he shrugged and gave her a lopsided grin.

“Probably nothing. I swear I heard some tapping, but it could just be water dripping down into this cavern. It’s really nothing to worry about.”

The release of tension around her eyes made him feel better, helped him relax a little. Mya discarded the large fork; it made a hollow noise as it fell into the refuse and bounced off items hidden in the debris. She walked down the next aisle, searching the shelves for anything useful. Not being able to help himself, Flint closed his eyes momentarily to listen, but heard nothing amiss. Mya’s good-natured call for him to catch up caused him to open his eyes and jog after her.

3

River

River moved swiftly to the front door, yanking it open, hoping to stop the insistent knocking. Light spilled out into the night from his small one-room house and fell upon Elen, his one and only best friend. She was standing outside in the dark, glaring up at him with a mischievous smile.

Elen was unusual in that she was a meter-tall humanoid raccoon. Dressed in a black leather jacket from ancient times, it had been her constant companion for the last sixteen years. At least, it was the only clothing River had ever seen her in since he’d known her.

Her perky little voice caused him to flinch when she loudly said, “You’re late!”

River glanced up into the sky to see a swirling mass of color dancing in front of the stars.

Looking back at her, he cocked his head and replied, “I’m not late. Rarely ever am. You, on the other hand, are always early. Another fight with your partner?”

River had noticed Elen’s furry little fist was bunched. He suspected she’d have crossed her arms defiantly if she could—but the arm below her right shoulder ended prematurely. People constantly thought of her as weak because of what she was missing. The fun started when they got a closer look. Once they noticed the holster on her left hip and a matching one sitting on her left shoulder, people changed their minds quickly.

Elen had saved his hide more times than he could reasonably count. It helped that she was the fastest shot with her flintlocks that the village had. Not to mention her dogged ability to win fights.

It helped that she generally allowed him his privacy—that was one of the many reasons they were such good friends.

Years ago, after moving to the village with Flint, they enlisted the two of them as guards to protect the walls. While it was a worthwhile job, it was also hard—the nighttime shifts meant not being able to see their family as much as they would’ve liked during the day.

Elen’s quick barking comment helped River pull himself from his wandering thoughts.

“Leave my personal life out of this. If you must know, yes, we fought. And yes, I am early.”

She barged her way into the small house. Trying to hide a frown, he turned to grab his leather coat from the bench seat lying next to his mismatched kitchen table. Pulling it on and zipping it up, he grabbed his old rifle. When he was about to step out the door, he stopped short, noticing Elen wasn’t at his side. Looking over his shoulder, he was hardly surprised to find her peeking behind one of the small room’s two hanging curtains that divided the large space into private areas. She was very fond of his son, had been since they had brought him to the village so long ago.

“Hey, stop that. Flint’s sleeping. Don’t wake him. He went to bed early. Must have been at the smithy late today.”

He couldn’t help but notice Elen’s look of disbelief as she let the curtain fall.

“Right. I’m sure he’s getting tons of sleep. Is he seeing someone yet?”

River rolled his eyes; this was a question she had been asking for a while. Secretly, he wondered if she asked it just to annoy him. It was that, or she liked the drama such a development would cause in their small community.

Sweeping his arm toward the open door and whispering in a no-nonsense tone, River said, “You better not have woken him. He’s a good kid. We can talk about his dating prospects once we leave, okay? I don’t want to risk rousing him.”

Clearly, he struck a nerve, for Elen replied in a loud voice, “Right. I’m sure he is getting a great night’s sleep.”

Grinding his teeth, River pushed her out the door. He wanted to confront her over her rudeness, but found she didn’t wait around for him. She had already started walking down the stone pathway toward the middle of the village. A few quick steps brought them shoulder to shoulder.

After considering how to address what was going on with her, it surprised River to hear her speak first, and with a very apologetic tone.

“Look, I’m sorry for getting on your case and for what I did back there. It’s just…”

River waited until the silence between the two of them was almost unbearable.

“It’s okay. I know you and your partner are having fights over this Maker coming. You’ll figure it out. Everything will work out fine, okay? I know it, you’re an impressive pair.”

He realized he had clearly hit a sore spot, as she turned to him and pointed an angry, furry finger up at his face.

“You don’t understand! All they want to talk about is having more children. Every time a Maker comes around, we end up having one because I give in to their obsession with family. I just… I don’t want another mistake. You know what I mean? It was my fault. Not theirs, mine! Why can’t they understand I don’t want to do this anymore?”

While it was an old conversation that had been going on for years, River couldn’t help but think back to that terrible day. From what he had heard, Elen and her partner were out with family beyond the walls on a picnic. It was a common thing for families to do, especially during the summer months.

If you were watchful.

Between just two adults, trying to keep track of four little children was difficult. That day, a group of Scavs had attacked. Elen had used all her wits and firepower to keep her family safe, but it wasn’t enough. Losing a child was always hard, but to lose one so young… it had torn her apart. To make things worse, her partner had apparently taken it upon himself to produce a larger family to make up for their loss.

River didn’t envy Elen’s struggle. She carried all her family’s problems on her small shoulders, and he tried to do his best to support her.

“Was that what the fight was about? You making a mistake that day all those years ago? Or was it about him wanting another child?” When Elen didn’t look up or respond, he knew it meant she’d either be fuming on the inside or lost in the past. River tried another tactic. “Look, I understand how hard it is to be a parent. You’re going to make mistakes. Everyone does. I mean, look at the mistakes I’ve made over the years with Flint. If I beat myself up over those…”

As the words tumbled from his mouth, he watched Elen’s face flash with anger. Gone was her sad expression, and in its place, sheer hatred burned up at him.

River tried not to flinch when she shoved a finger into his face. Her tone matched her expression.

“You are no parent! You didn’t have Flint with someone else. Hell, you didn’t even have a Maker help you make a child. You got Flint because his mother died, and you were close to her. That hardly makes you a parent to anyone.”

River felt shocked to the core of his being. To hear her say something so hurtful spoke volumes about how hard she was taking the current situation. Despite her place in his life, to lash out like that was uncalled for.

Stopping in his tracks, River closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath, and pushed down his natural inclination to retaliate. Clenching his jaw to keep from speaking, he slowly found the calm needed to handle things.

Hearing Elen’s sorrowful voice lessened some of his building anger.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You are Flint’s father, even if you are blind. You’re one of the best guys I know, and your son is lucky to have you. What you should really do is realize your son is getting older. Until you see it, you’ll always be blind to things. I mean, what if he stepped out for the night?” Her words helped him feel a little better. And he found her sad expression heartbreaking as she looked up at him in the low light. “I had no reason to say that to you. Will you forgive me for what I said? I take back most of it.”

River raised his eyebrow. “Most?”

He felt a little better when Elen rolled her eyes and looked down, trying to hide her smile and tried to hold back her laughter.

“Yeah. You’re so blind. I hope Flint is getting a lot of sleep.”

Feeling confused, River asked Elen’s retreating form, “What does that mean, exactly?”

He found his frustrations over her words melting away upon hearing the laughter that slipped out. Taking a few quick steps, he fell in beside her. Walking down the path between the small one-room homes felt comfortable. It was always easy to fall into their old routine after a brush-up.

Stepping out onto one of the main roads that ran through the small village, the two friends made their way to the front door of one of the largest buildings in town. It was an odd place. Chunks of concrete, metal signs from ancient times, and a few odds and ends patched together through the building. This was a place most found themselves, eventually. The town bar looked lively tonight if you went by the loud laughter and background chatter coming from inside.

River sidled up to the front stoop and glanced at Elen. Opening the bar’s broad wooden door, he bent over and swept an arm forward, waving her in.

His overly grand gesture didn’t appear to have the outcome he’d hoped for when Elen yelled, “Idiots first.”

Her silly comment made him smiled. Standing up, he shook his head at her.

“Sorry, Murphy isn’t here tonight. Just the two of us. So, together then?”

River witnessed a smile forming on her lips before they exchanged a small chuckle. As one, they walked into the village watering hole. Blinking against the bright lights, the sound of joyful laughter and old arguments washed over them. Every time they stepped into this place, it felt like old times, and tonight was no different.

Mismatched tables and a random collection of chairs dotted the main room and gave off a homey feeling. River nodded to many of his fellow villagers as he sauntered up toward the bar.

There were a few patrons he recognized who had no families to celebrate with and instead nursed their drinks. The understanding came with a melancholy feeling; his heart went out to those left alone to their own devices during such a time of celebration. So many couldn’t have kids, even with the help of Makers. Being one of them, River just nodded to those who met his friendly smile.

Near the back wall, a large pillar of concrete lying on its side created an impromptu bar. Jo—the old relic who ran the watering hole—stood behind it, wiping down the bar top. River couldn’t help but admire her. She was a tough one who had managed the place since her dad passed away a few years ago. There was never a fight or a scuffle she had not already put down before the guard got there to help.

She made River’s job easy, and that was just one of her many charms.

Giving the best devilishly handsome smile he could accomplish given his iffy mood, he called out to her.

“Hello Jo. I see you have quite a crowd here. Everyone keeping calm with all that’s going on? Or do we need to help anyone home tonight?”

She turned her back on him as if she hadn’t heard him. Then he realized he was wrong when she looked in his direction using the mirror adorning the wall behind the bar. River felt his heart just about melt. If anyone had asked him, River would have said Jo was one of the most beautiful women in the village. Tonight, she appeared to be flaunting an old-world dress. It looked amazing on her, though if he was honest with himself, just about everything did.

Taking in her curvaceous form with his eyes, he followed the gentle slope up her hips, across her back, then up to her kissable shoulders. She had been wearing her hair short for the last few years, the end of it covering her graceful neck. With her back still to him, it was hard to decide what was the best part about her.

Glancing into the mirror again, he found she’d caught him admiring her. As their eyes met, her mischievous smile caught him off guard.

Scratching the back of his neck, he tried not to grimace when Elen hit him in the thigh.

“Stop being a jerk. She’s married, you idiot.”

Using the comment as a graceful way to avoid staring at Jo as she turned around to face them, River glared down at Elen.

Jo’s sweet, mirth-filled voice called out, catching the attention of the two friends.

“So, it’s a night of celebration? Elen, are you having another baby this time around, given a new Maker is coming to town?”

River watched as Elen glanced down at the floor and scratched at it with one foot. She was clearly refusing to answer the questions.

Trying to give her a break, he met Jo’s beautiful black eyes and said, “Just a normal night on patrol. Could be a tad cold out there. Do you have any of that amazing tea you brew on hand, maybe?”

While his voice was cheerful, he hoped Jo would pick up on the small frown and glance he threw in Elen’s general direction.

To her credit, Jo nodded. She had always been one to read folks like a book. It was a mild comfort to see her skills had not diminished over the years.

River watched Jo busy herself behind the bar for a bit, mesmerized, like he always was with her. Jo was one of those women you could never quite forget. She had a sweet side when she wanted to show it to you, and an angry one he had seen a little too often when they were younger.

While he hadn’t known her as a child, he’d heard the stories that revolved around her. There were always whispers about everyone in such a small village. Apparently, Jo had been sick as a child. While most people had irises of some form, Jo’s eyes were completely black, like some birds he’d seen in the wild. No one quite knew why her eyes had changed, but they could hold your attention for hours on end like they were doing to him right now.

“River? Did you hear me?”

“Huh? What? Sorry, I was spacing out there.”

Jo smiled, and River could feel his heart jump. Elen’s frustrated voice burst in from beside him.

“Idiot. She was just asking if you’d like some honey in your tea this time.”

Looking down at Elen, he found she was still refusing to make eye contact. He turned back to Jo and smiled. “Sure. Whatever works. If you can spare some, that would be wonderful. Thank you.”

Jo nodded before she said, “It would be my pleasure… though I’m going to ask for a little help with something, if that’s okay?”

River nodded and looked down for support, only to find Elen glaring at him. Turning back to Jo, he tried to give her a believable smile.

“We have time. What do you have in mind, Jo?”

She nodded her head toward the bar where a patron was sitting. River was a tad confused but quickly picked up on what she was implying. The customer was only a few chairs down from where River was standing. Inspecting the man, it was clear he was an unknown—at least, River had never seen the man before. Most here would’ve already noticed the fresh, unfamiliar face slumped over his cup of alcohol by now. River was clearly slipping in his duties; he’d have to do better from now on.

If River had to make an estimation, the man slumped across the bar couldn’t have been older than seventy. At one time, that wouldn’t have been odd, but life was short these days due to the dangers people ran into each day. Life was difficult.

Looking down at his partner, he saw Elen had noticed something about the man he hadn’t picked up on yet. Her small shoulders looked pretty tense. The man before him was clearly more than he appeared.

As he looked for more clues, River found the old man’s appearance a novelty. He was wearing boots and pants from the old world. Either the man was rich, lucky, or both. Few could find or even get away with wearing the cloth from long ago. From the looks of it, the pants fit him surprisingly well. That was startling in its own right.

Taking in the man’s shirt, River felt the tension in his chest relax a little. While incredibly thin, the man’s leather shirt was handsewn. Despite being well made, the shirt displayed the average wear one would expect from clothing of that type. Short of the layers of dust and dirt that covered him from head to toe, the old man didn’t look that special.

River sought support from Jo, and she gave him a look that rekindled his earlier fear. Tensing up, he almost pulled a knife, then reminded himself to calm down.

But then Jo reached out a hand and gripped the old man’s palms, which did nothing to help River’s nerves.

“Come on, Johnathan. I know it’s been a long time, but you need to get some sleep. Go on now, sleep off the drink. Please? My good friend, River, here will take you to where you can rest.”

River found Jo’s sad look aimed at him. Unsure what to do, he stood a little straighter. Feeling a tad uncomfortable for being so on edge, he tried to strike a friendly tone.

“Hello, sir. Johnathan, is it? Mind if I join you?”

Grabbing the closest bar stool, River pulled the heavy chair back. Wincing at the scraping sound it made against the rough wooden floor, he sat heavily on the stool. River noticed the man had yet to move. Now that he could see the old man’s face clearly, he noticed there was an impression of sadness emanating from him.

Looking to Jo for help, he asked, “Can you give me a hint as to what’s going on?”

Jo visibly sighed and gave the old man a sad look before meeting his eyes.

“Johnathan is an old family friend. He and my father knew each other when I was barely tall enough to stand at his hip. Um… he came in looking forlorn. Asked for a hard drink and sat down. For Johnathan, drinking any alcohol is unusual. Until tonight, I thought he was a teetotaler. I cannot remember a time when he didn’t ask for anything but water.”

River nodded. “Normally, I try to meet new people in the village for the sake of everyone’s safety. You’re telling me he’s a family friend, yet I don’t remember seeing him before. Was he at your father’s or mother’s funeral? Did I miss him or something? I know it’s been a few years, but I think I’d recognize a man dressed like him.”

When no answer came, River looked at Jo, and what he found startled him. Tonight was clearly going to be one of those nights. Her face held a smile, but it was clearly skin-deep. Her shoulders were tense, hands wringing a damp cloth that was enduring her emotions. It was clear there was more of a story here than she was ready or able to share.

Waiting for her reply, he noticed she refused to look him in the eyes when she finally said, “No. Johnathan wasn’t there for either of them when they passed. I haven’t seen him here for ages. He just showed up tonight, mumbling about things that I couldn’t make out—short of him needing a proper drink.”

River glanced down at Elen. Her shrug left him at a loss for what to do. Looking back at the old man, River internally wondered what this man had brought with him to the village, and who would suffer because of it.

4

River

To River, the old man was everything he tried to stay away from. The man was a mystery, not to mention that he had passed out. With Jo avoiding his gaze, he knew she held answers he wouldn’t enjoy hearing. She had been one of the few long-term friends he’d made here, one of the few that had always stood by him even when he did something stupid.

He considered whether to ask Jo directly for information, but chose to ask a straightforward question.

“Is this guy trustworthy?”

The look she gave the old man told him everything. Something hurt her seeing this old man acting this way. She was clearly hiding something, but with the years between them, River figured he at least owed her privacy.

Upon meeting his eyes, she pursed her lips and answered with a nod. He knew he’d hate himself later for this, but he felt he had no other choice.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this. I know the perfect place for him to rest.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt the pain of Elen’s clawed foot slamming into his ankle. Flinching at the sudden impact, he looked down at her angry face. Normally, a kick like that was a no-nonsense answer to any question at hand. The signal meant a hard “no” from Elen, and not even heaven nor earth could change her mind… unless it involved showing care for others.

River hated to pull that card on her, but what choice did he have?

Elen saw it coming from a mile away.

“Don’t you dare! What about your son?”

Rolling his eyes, River winked at Jo before confronting Elen’s anger.

“Look, where else are we going to put this man up? By now, everyone is heavy into their own drinks and not thinking straight. Do you really feel like explaining to folks why you and I are going through the entire village knocking on doors to find Johnathan a place to sleep for the night?”

Elen, turning her face away from him and scrunching up her shoulders, told him he was gaining ground. If her ears twitched, he’d know he had her.

“I won’t be using my bed tonight while on the job; might as well put it to good use by giving this old man a nice place to rest. Best to not bother others, right?”

Her quick glance was a clear sign he was winning, but he was totally unprepared for her comeback.

“And what happens if the old man wakes Flint up? How are you going to explain to your son there’s an old man sleeping in your bed and not you? I’m sure that will be one hell of an interesting conversation tomorrow morning… especially since you two have so much to talk about.”

Seeing the sly look in Elen’s eyes had River again wondering what she was getting at with her cryptic comments.

Before he could say anything to her, Jo piped in.

“Oh, River, you will? That would be lovely. I’m sorry, but my husband and I just don’t have room for him tonight.”

Turning from Elen’s mysterious grin, River looked at Jo’s smiling face. Under normal circumstances, it would’ve felt good to have two such wonderful women smiling at him—but right now was a totally different experience. He couldn’t help but feel like he was being manipulated. Trying to make himself feel better, River tried to remember it was all for a good cause.

Putting on what he hoped was a sincere smile, he nodded in Jo’s direction before shooting Elen a dirty look.

Standing up, River moved to the old man’s far side and helped him up off the bar. Once Johnathan was sitting up, River leaned down and pulled one of the man’s arms across his shoulders.

Looking past the old man’s thin chest, River tried to get Elen’s attention.

“Psst. Hey, you’re gonna help me move him, right?”

A snickering noise from far off caused him to lean back behind Johnathan and look. He spotted Elen by the door, her ears twitching.

“Of course, I’ll help you… I’m getting the door for you.”

River rolled his eyes and turned to smile at Jo. He wrapped his free hand around the old man’s chest and heaved.

In a soft tone, he said as nicely as he could, “Come on, old man, time to get you to bed.”

River swore the old man mumbled something in reply, but his voice was too quiet to make out the words. With his help, the two men gracelessly meandered toward the front door. As they stumbled through, River swore he felt a furry swat to his backside, followed by a snicker.

River rolled his eyes and wondered if that was all the ‘help’ he’d be getting from Elen tonight. Even so, stepping out into the night air felt wonderful, and he could feel the heat on his skin that had built up from being inside the pub cooling.

Working in tandem, the two men made their way down the street until they found a solid wall to prop the old man up against. Looking back at the bar, River watched Elen wave goodbye, their thermos in her hand. Making sure Johnathan wouldn’t fall over, River made to rejoin Elen for a quick chat when the sound of retching stopped him cold in his tracks. He didn’t budge. When Elen walked up, he watched her lean out past his legs to look behind him at the unpleasant sounds. Her smile told him more than he wanted to know.

“It’s gonna be one of those nights, huh?”

This wasn’t the first drunk the pair had taken care of during their long partnership. River didn’t think it was a good idea to open his mouth right now—but giving Elen room to go on like this wasn’t worth the risk.

“Could you please…” River was sure his face looked green as he wrestled internally with his own meager dinner. “… help clean up?”

Dry heaves stopped any further words.

He was overly aware that Elen was smiling throughout the entire thing. He was grateful. Some soothing words from her could do wonders for anyone suffering such an illness, if experience was anything to go by.

“It’s okay now, River. You can turn around. The problem’s over. Just don’t…” Turning around, River glanced down at the old man’s feet out of habit. The sight before him threatened the loose grasp of control he had over his stomach. Turning green, he looked away quickly. He had never been good around those who got sick, and it didn’t seem to get any better with time. Elen’s voice just added insult to injury. “…look at the ground. Never mind. Too late.”

Once he got his dry heaving under control, he slipped one of Johnathan’s arms around his shoulders while trying not to breathe. The progress was slow, but the old man gained more and more strength as they moved. It could have been the fresh air, or the purge of liquid courage, but each step became easier than the last for the old-timer.

A short time later, River found himself at his front door being led in by Elen, who had opened it for the two men. While his home didn’t look like much, it was his and he was proud of it.

It was a simple task to move Johnathan around the kitchen table and behind the curtain that blocked off his personal space. Maneuvering him around the box where River kept his few pieces of clothing, he let the old man sit down slowly on the threadbare mattress. Kneeling, he helped the old man out of his boots.

Johnathan spoke for the first time that night. “I do not know who you are, my friend, but thank you. I’m not taking someone’s bed, am I?”

Shaking his head, River helped with the remaining boot. Given what the old man had just said, he felt proud that his heart led him to do this. The old man was clearly just down on his luck. Having been there a time or two, River could relate.

Once Johnathan had placed his feet up on the bed, River picked up the thin blankets he used every night and covered the old man. Turning to leave, he heard Johnathan say something that caused River to smile.

“If you ever need anything, kid, you will have my help. I promise you that. Thank you for helping me like this.”

River just nodded before slipping out from behind the curtain.

Elen stood near the door. Her mouth opened to say something, but he held up a finger, cautioning her to stay quiet. It took only a matter of moments before Johnathan’s slow breathing filled the room.

Stepping away from the curtain, River moved to where the curtain to his son’s room hung. Grabbing the edge of the handwoven gray cloth, he listened for his son’s breathing as well, but couldn’t hear it.

He was pulling the sheet back, about to look in on Flint, when Elen cleared her throat. She nodded toward the front door with a look of urgency. Nodding in return, he let the drape fall back into place and turned to leave without looking in.

Following Elen out the door, he found he couldn’t help himself. Under his breath, he said, “Have a good night’s sleep, Flint. You have some of the best hearing I’ve ever known—so just know that I love you, son.”

As soon as River carefully closed the door, he jumped as Elen’s loud voice caught him off guard.

“That was sweet what you just did, and I don’t just mean how you handled that drunk. But we’re late. Better hurry before Murphy has a fit. You know how he gets…”

Looking at his front door, River felt like something was off. After forcing himself to turn around, River watched Elen’s retreating form for a moment before he felt motivated to chase after her. If they were lucky, they’d get to their stations before Murphy had too much of a tantrum.

One of these days, he’d have to sit that old man down and have a long talk with the guy. Even if it was just for Jo’s sake. But tonight wasn’t the night for that.

Slowing for a moment while lost in thought, he came to and ran to catch up to his small, furry best friend.

5

Flint

“Careful, you’re gonna spill them.”

Mya’s voice was full of frustration as small metal pieces bounced off the floor in a shower of parts. Flint’s ears folded back in response to her outburst. The awful groaning noise she followed up with, an expression of her frustration, did little to make things any better. It was clear to Flint things were going downhill fast. He’d been so focused on the tapping noises that continued to echo throughout the area, he could barely focus on what he was doing.

They had been working tirelessly through several shelves of random debris. Mya had been filling her hands up with the odds and ends—any relic that looked like it could be valuable—and with Flint’s help, dumping it all into the pack.

Why doesn’t Mya notice them?

Something was clearly wrong here. The smells kept changing even though there was little airflow.

Mya’s frustrated voice pulled his attention back to her. “Are you going to help? Come on, this crap won’t pick itself up.”

Flashing the light down on the floor, Flint witnessed the mess spilled across the floor. Small metal and plastic pieces had scattered in a wild disarray. He took one last look over his shoulder, trying to ferret where the noise was coming from, then gave up, turned around, and sank to his knees.

Picking up the pieces was a slow, ponderous process. It was especially difficult when he couldn’t quite get his nails under them, and they slid across the ground. His only respite was Mya’s soft voice, which came out in an unexpected whisper.

“I’m sorry, I’m frustrated.”

Flint shrugged, hoping to save this conversation for another time. While he was grateful for the apology, other things felt more pressing at the moment. However, it didn’t surprise him when she continued.

“You okay, big guy? You don’t seem to be yourself. Should we be heading back? I know how you dislike being out at night like this.” He shook his head. Sadly, she had him dead to rights. He wanted to get back home, where it was safe. Something about this place bothered him. It felt like an itch on the back of his neck, a curious tingle; his nerves were edge, and he couldn’t really explain why. Mya’s voice was the only thing that made being down here tolerable. “Thanks for putting up with my antics. Just think of how much this stuff might help our village.”

Her appreciative tone helped him feel a little better. Scratching the back of his neck, he glanced in her direction. Lips slipping into a bashful smile, he hid his reaction by turning back to his work. Many in the village never quite understood why he stayed by her side, but it was times like this that reminded him who she really was on the inside.

Reaching out for a small metal cog lying on the cool floor, his hand stopped as his ears twitched. The twang of metal bending echoed through the upper reaches of the cavern, sounding uncomfortably close. Raising his head, he looked up. His body froze as he picked up on a heavy, musky scent in the air. Nose twitching, ears twisting to pinpoint the dripping sound, it was finally clear to him that something was in here with them.

Turning the torch up toward the ceiling, Fear cascaded through his body. The dust particles dancing in the air told him something must have been moving to stir them up.

His eyes rose ever higher until he found two large, dark, multifaceted balls reflecting his face back at him. A large red chitinous head, with glassy black surfaces set in it, peeked over the metal shelf to his left.

His knees went weak as memories of falling into an ant den as a child came rushing back. Indecision warred within him; out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mya was still unaware of the danger.

If he moved, the ant might attack them, but to do nothing was also a risk. Flint forced himself to look away from the insect and toward Mya, even though it left him feeling vulnerable. He regretted his choice immediately when he heard the ant’s antenna tap along the top of the metal shelf—it became clear the ant was hunting for food and going to attack at any moment.

Mya said, “Wait, did you hear that? You didn’t step on some cogs, did you?”

The question in her tone distracted Flint. In his hesitance, the ant made its move, lunging across the metal barrier. Metal screamed as it warped and bent under the ant’s weight.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion for Flint. He watched as Mya finally looked up and saw the danger that had been stalking them. Even if they’d come prepared, this terror was beyond them. Flint barked out a harsh command.

“Run!”

Mya’s eyes met his as he lunged forward with all the strength he could muster. The white floor was slick; his claws bit into it but barely gave him enough traction to launch forward. Opening his hands wide in mid-flight, he slammed into Mya. The fear etched into her face gave way to pain as she went flying—her body flew down the aisle away from the ant and landed on the floor.

Falling face-first onto the hard white squares hurt Flint badly. Pain radiated throughout his body, but he didn’t give it a second thought. While twisting onto his back to keep the ant in view, Mya’s own pain-filled cry rang out. The sound of metal twisting well past its breaking point overshadowed it. A red mass came sliding over the top of the shelves toward him.

The insect was monstrous. It was so large it dominated the entire aisle’s width with its bulk. In the light thrown off by the hand torch, he could see its large mandibles clacking in anticipation. The sound was so painful to his ears; it made him want to grind his teeth.

He put it all together at once: the “dripping” sound he’d been hearing wasn’t water but the ant’s mouth working. Unfortunately, the ant didn’t wait or appreciate his ability to understand the situation—it bit down on his leg, eliciting a cry of pain.

Lurching for anything he could grab onto to scrabble away, his fingers scraped across the metal shelving units surrounding him. Finding a small gap between the shelves, his claws dug in. This momentary win was short-lived—he was ripped from his purchase by the ant who dragged him backward down the aisle.

While wrestling for a new handhold, he discovered the hand torch was almost within arm’s distance. As he reached out for it, his fingers scraped across the smooth surface of the hand torch before being dragged away. He watched in awe as the torch spun on the floor, flashing its bright beam in a lightshow far wilder than the auroras outside the cave, while he was being pulled down the aisle. The strobing effect slowed to a stop and left him peering up at Mya’s horrified face as she retreated from view.

The ant continued to drag him down the aisle, while Flint did all he could to get away. His free leg lashed out repeatedly, but to no avail. Each impact felt like kicking a tree. Stomping on the ant’s head one last time, he again focused on grabbing anything within reach to slow the ant down. While looking for a handhold, his foot hit something soft and yielding.

A screech rent the air. He felt the cry of agony as it burrowed painfully into his ears, causing them to fold back. Before he could understand what was happening, the ant whipped its head up hard and thrashed about. It gripped his ankle, lifting him off the floor and forcefully slamming him into a shelf.

Landing hard on his stomach, Flint’s vision wavered. The pressure on his ankle was gone. He prepared to crawl away. Every draw of breath caused fresh pain to bloom in his chest. The feeling of his lungs being constricted caused his vision to swim in and out. He could hear the ant waving its head back and forth, crashing into and bending the metal shelves on either side of it.

Using both arms to lever himself up, he started the slow process of crawling away from his assailant. He found that when he tried to move too fast, the pain would cause his vision to blur, forcing him to stop. Slumping to the floor to collect himself, he found the pain subsided a little.

Flint knew it was dangerous to pause like this, but he felt like he didn’t have a choice. Blacking out would leave him defenseless. Looking toward the ant, all he could see was a red blurry blob swimming in the darkness through his wavering eyesight. Closing his eyes, a part of him wanted to give up. That fleeting emotion disappeared when something gripped his shoulders.

Rolling to the left and right, trying to break away from whatever had him, Flint found it a futile effort. Opening his eyes to look up at his attacker, he discovered Mya bent over him, her small hands held onto his leather vest in a death grip. She strained hard, trying to pull him backward.

“Are you going to help me out here? Dang it!”

Her voice cut through Flint’s mental haze like a knife. Pushing himself up, the two of them worked hard to move down the aisle. Their grunts punctuated every drag. Mya refused to look in his direction, instead keeping her focus locked on the ant. Her stricken face told him they were in trouble.

The ant rushed at them, its gait relentless. The floor shudder with its every move, its legs hitting the sides of the metal shelves as it ran. With each step it took, a hollow clacking noise made clear just how close it was getting.

Looking up at Mya, he shook his head. He couldn’t say anything; his chest refused to take in a breath due to the constant flares of pain.

He gave her a look, a silent plea for her to run and save herself.

A red blur flashed across his vision. Mya’s feet were knocked out from under her. The ant had hit her using one of its many legs. Mya had tried to shield herself, but her tiny hands were no match for the ant’s strength.

With Flint’s teeth bared and chittering, he looked up at his assailant. Seeing the ant’s head tilting down toward his chest surprised him.

With an ear-splitting screech, the ant brought its large mandibles around Flint’s waist and closed them. Unable to prevent his cry of pain, he threw his head back and screamed into the darkness. With shaking hands, he grabbed a mandible in each one. He strained to open them enough to slip out, but found his strength was worthless against this monster. The only reward he received was pain as the mandibles cut into his fingers.

He felt woozy from the trauma and was only vaguely aware of something fast approaching. Mya’s booted foot came flying past his head and impacted in the ant’s compound eye. Much to their mutual disappointment, the ant didn’t even seem to notice the blow and only bit down harder.

She threw kick after ineffectual kick at the insect. The absurdity of it all hit Flint hard—he felt a little disconnected. Like a part of his mind was shutting down, leaving the pain and fear in a far-off place.

In a raspy voice, he tried to call out to Mya, hoping she heard him through her rage.

“Stop… Stop it, Mya! We won’t survive like this. Run! Get help!”

Looking down at his attacker, Flint saw fresh blood pooling around his waist. Letting his head fall back, he watched as Mya continued to throw kick after kick. She couldn’t run away, refusing to take notice of his words. He couldn’t help but think about how stubborn she’d always been… and how strangely important that felt right now.

Her attacks finally seemed to have gotten the ant’s attention, as it screeched at her while still holding onto Flint. Instead of letting go, the ant dragged him down the aisle again, with Mya in pursuit.

Reaching out with lead-filled arms, he struggled to grasp the shelves yet again. He watched as his nails scraped across the smooth surfaces. The blood dripping from his fingers made everything slick, further impeding his attempts.

The end of the aisle came fast, and Flint reached out with both arms on either side in a last-ditch effort to save himself. Hands digging into the metal at the end of the shelving partitions, his grip held for a few seconds before being ripped away. One of his flailing hands fell into the pile of debris Mya had found earlier. Trying to grab onto anything, he found his hand closing around something round and solid.

As the ant dragged him into the darkness, a new sound followed in their wake. A metal tink, tink, tink bounced along after them. When his free hand got a better grip on what he was holding, he tried to sit up but almost blacked out because of the pain it caused. Unwilling to give up, he brought his hands up to find the giant fork. Using all his strength from his prone position, he thrust the fork at the ant, holding him by the waist.

The ant screeched loudly, loosening its grip on him. The metal tines of the fork broke through the protective surface of the ant’s eye. Spurts of hot, sticky muck splashed onto him. His hand struggled to hold the fork in place as the ant banged its head back and forth into the shelves, trying to dislodge the weapon.

A scream of rage echoed down the aisle moments before Mya added her own fork to Flint’s defense. He watched as the weapon was driven in, high above his own, only to bounce off the tough exterior of the ant’s head. It spun away and slammed into the shelves.

Hearing the clatter of the fork against the ground gave Flint an idea.

Bringing his head back, he looked up at Mya and yelled, “Take mine! It’s injured. Keep sticking it in its eye!”

As soon as Mya took hold of the fork Flint was holding, he let go and reached out for the other fork that had landed on the floor next to him. He grabbed it with both hands and pressed it to his chest. Using his feet, he pulled himself down farther underneath the ant. His knees constantly slammed into the bottom of the monster as he shimmied his way along. When his chest passed the ant’s front legs, he stopped and took a deep breath to prepare himself.

Gripping the fork with all his strength, he forced the tines up into the ant. The sharp metal spikes skidded across its exoskeleton in a juddering dance. When the weapon found a soft area, he pushed with all his might. Lifting his back off the ground, he put his weight behind the thrust, resulting in a squishing noise.

While it had been loud due to how close Flint was to it, it was nothing compared to the ant’s screech of pain.

Bracing the end of the fork against his body, Flint tried to keep it wedged where it was. The ant tried to pull itself away from the weapon, only to cause the fork to push farther into its body. Flint gripped the weapon despite the ant’s thrashing legs pummeling his body.

The ant shuddered before going limp. It dropped. The only thing that saved Flint from being crushed under its weight was the very fork that had killed it—it lodged into the earth, propping the ant’s upper body off the ground. Flint’s legs weren’t so lucky. His last fleeting memory of that moment was screaming before he blacked out.

6

Mya

Mya felt nauseous. Gazing at the corpse of the ant draped across Flint’s unconscious form left her confused. Panic threatened to sweep in and consume her.

Frantically looking for something to help him would keep the fear at bay for the moment. Turning away from the gruesome visage, her hands knocked small piles of dust, scrap, and other odds and ends off the closest shelves. Acting without conscious thought, she grabbed a small plastic bottle and held it near her face in an attempt to decipher its contents.

What am I doing?

The bottle fell from her shaking fingers.

Turning to Flint, Mya tried hard to sound confident.

“Stay right here, okay? I’m going to find something to help you out.” She knew he couldn’t hear her, but said it out loud as it helped her feel a little better. Turning on her heel, she ran back to where the fight had started. When the ant had attacked, she hadn’t had time to pick up the hand torch Flint had dropped. Right now, that seemed like a big mistake. Moving through the open area where they’d found the forks, her footing slipped. She gave a panicked scream as her legs swept out beneath her. Everything ached as she struggled back up onto her hands and knees. “Stupid… Stupid… Stupid…”

The mantra spilled out of her mouth; the torrent of personal reprimands continued. Earlier that day, she’d heard some prospectors in the village arguing about a hidden underground ruin that had some marker on the surface, but if she had told Flint, he would never have come out here tonight. They had gone back and forth on what that marker was, but she’d known right away. She had grown up passing it by constantly as a child, back when things were safer beyond the walls during the day.

A large part of her wanted to hate herself. She was the one who had thought this was a good idea. She hadn’t listened to her more rational side, and instead shut it down. They should never have come down here. If they hadn’t come down here, Flint wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

Mya worked to push those thoughts out of her mind. She could torment herself later. She needed to help Flint now.

Slamming her fist on the ground and cursing under her breath, she struggled to get to her feet. The ground was slick with patches of blood… Flint’s blood. When Mya tried to stand up again, her foot slipped once more.

Thinking through what to do next, she made the hard choice. Rolling onto her stomach, she got up on her hands and knees so she could crawl over to the aisle.

Grabbing onto the cold metal shelves left her hands feeling icy. Struggling to her feet, she used the shelving for handholds as she worked her way through the trail of blood Flint had left while being dragged along. Upon reaching the shelves ruined by the ant’s bucking, she found herself compelled to reach out and grab the other side of the aisle.

Moving past the congealing blood, she ran the few remaining steps to the hand torch. Sweeping it up off the ground, she gathered speed, moving down to the end of the aisle she was currently in before taking a hard left to run along a different aisle. As she came back out into the gap, she slid to a stop. The forks sat there sparkling in the light. Sweat beaded her forehead; she wiped it away before it could drip down into her eyes.

This time, taking small, careful steps, she held onto the shelves and worked her way over to Flint. Kneeling next to him, she brought the light around to inspect his wounds. Matted, bloody rips showed through his fur. Despite all the blood, the damage wasn’t bad; she was glad the wounds didn’t appear to be that deep.

“Oh, you idiot. Why did you have to get so hurt? What am I going to do with you?” Taking a careful look at her clothing, she found nothing that would really help provide first aid and so pressed on. She made her way back to the aisles they had been searching. The beam of light played across each shelf as her eyes looked for something suitable to use. When her search was exhausted, she sat back on her knees and sighed. In a sad, resigned voice, she said into the darkness, “Idiot. If only you’d given me your backpack. I’m sure you have stuff in there that would help.”

As soon as the words left her lips, her eyes lit up. Returning to Flint, she scooped his head up off the floor with her hands, then scooted closer and rested his head on her lap. For several minutes, she grunted and strained, working hard to get the backpack off his shoulders. She just knew everything she needed was in it—but he had it trapped under him.

In the distance, she heard the small sound of glass breaking. That gave her an idea. Hoping beyond hope she hadn’t accidentally dropped it during their adventures tonight, she reached for her trusty knife. While it would’ve been too small to hurt the ant because of its armored hide, anything else that might creep down here would feel its blade if things became dangerous. Feeling the comfort of its handle, she brought it into the light and set to work.

“Sorry, Flint… I’ll find you a new backpack, okay? If you’re gonna get mad at me, you gotta survive long enough to make that happen.” She begged as emotions tore through her. Hot tears ran streaks through the dust on her cheeks as she focused on her task. “Get mad at me, please… Live through this so you can hate me for the rest of your life if you have to…”

Taking one strap in her hand, she sawed through it until it snapped, then started on the second one. Once she cut the straps, she put the knife down next to her. With both hands under Flint’s shoulders, she lifted him. When his shoulders were high enough, she wiggled her knees under his shoulders to let him rest on them.

Bending over him, she worked the backpack out from under his back. Earlier that night, the pack had bothered her—now it was the best thing in the world. It looked nothing like the pack she’d known for so long. Rips in the plastic image of the little girl contorted her face into a mass of broken lines and color. With no time to ponder how Flint might feel about it, she ripped the top open, spilling the contents across the floor.

Using the hand torch, she located a handmade leather-bound book. Resting it on one leg, she opened the book up and flipped through the different sections. She only slowed her search when she came to Insects. Flipping one page after another, she found the one she was looking for. Normally, the feeling of embarrassment would arise when she had to read out loud, but right now, it seemed trivial.

“The red ants found in our world grow bigger the older they get. They start out white and translucent, but each time they molt, they gain an increasingly darker shade of red tint to their body…” Mya ran her finger farther down the page, seeking more relevant info. “When defending yourself against an ant, it’s best to use a spear to strike it in the mouth, the eyes, or the gills that sit in sets of two. The gills allow ants and other insects to grow larger than other insects. There is a set on each side of the chest area…”

Mya’s eyes widened in horror. Did this mean the ant might not be dead? Using the light to inspect it, her concern washed away. The fork Flint used had gone straight up into what the book described as its “gill.”

Looking down at Flint and smiling at his good luck, she turned back to the book to continue reading.

“The red ant, unlike the black or green ant, has yet to develop a poison. This creature can only cause a fungal infection, which can be carefully managed over time…”

Mya trailed off. She looked down at Flint’s sleeping face and smiled at him as she cried. He’d be okay; she just knew it. Throwing the book aside, she searched through the odds and ends that had spilled across the floor. While she reached for a roll of bandages, an unfamiliar voice startled her so badly she jerked her hand back as if it had been bitten.

“Why hello there? It’s such a surprise to see someone like yourself down here. You killed that ant by yourself? I have to say, I’m impressed.”

The voice was loud and gravelly. Twisting around, she grasped the torch tightly in both hands, her mouth dropped open in shock when she saw who had spoken. Standing at the opening of the aisle was the largest man she had ever seen.

Mya tried to find her voice, but nothing would come out. She was too shocked to see another person down here.

“How did you kill it, exactly?” the man continued. “Even I would’ve had problems with it, given its size.”

Every time the man spoke, Mya felt herself shiver on the inside. Something about him felt safe, but also terribly dangerous at the same time. Looking closer at his face, she found he had a soft look in his eyes despite his heavily scarred visage. Given what little she knew about the man, she really had no choice. She’d have to ask him for help—at least when she found her voice.

The man stepped closer and finally noticed Flint.

“Ah, I see… You weren’t alone. Well, if it’s of any consolation, he shouldn’t suffer much longer given those wounds. Here I was worried you were the one hurt given all the blood.”

Mya felt uncomfortable as the giant of a man leaned forward to peer at the monstrous spectacle. Whatever he saw clearly didn’t sit well with him, as his demeanor changed. A scowl appeared like an angry storm cloud riding in on the fast winds from the mountains.

Watching the man inspect the blood trail left her concerned about what he’d do next. All that blood… what conclusions might he draw? She looked back up into the man’s eyes; they had a hard look to them.

Mya reached for her knife. The stranger’s face softened with an honest and open smile.

While gravelly, his words held an air of honesty when he said, “Look, I’m not here to mess with you. I saw a break in the ground and a rope leading down. How could I not be interested in what might be down here? I promise, I mean no harm to you.”

Overwhelmed by everything, Mya did the only thing she could think of: she begged.

“Can you please help me? My friend’s hurt and needs help. I cannot do it alone.”

The man’s hesitation, as he appeared to mull over his reply, crushed Mya’s hopes. Her fingers found the blade of her knife, and she slowly followed the cold metal up the blade to the handle. Swiftly, she made up her mind. She’d threaten this guy at knifepoint to get the help she needed. She just hoped he’d understand after the fact when she let him go. But Mya found her fingers stilled by his next comment.

“Okay. I’ll help your friend get out of here… for a boon. Do you know what a ‘boon’ is?”

From the look in the man’s eyes, he clearly read the confusion written across her face as she pondered the word.

“I’m sorry. So much has been lost, and I rarely get to talk with others. Let’s forget about that word. I’m sure you know what a ‘deal’ is, right?”

Mya numbly nodded. Flint might have a few minutes at most to get the help he needed. The way her best friend was bleeding; she didn’t have many choices at hand. She agreed to anything this man asked of her if it would speed this conversation along. The temptation to grab her knife flashed through her. The man’s glance at the weapon displaced it and he gave a slight shake of his head. When he spoke next, his eyes bored into her.

“Here’s my offer: if you return to my home with me of your own free will, I will help your friend. By the looks of him…” The stranger loomed over Mya, making her uncomfortable. He stepped back and resumed his relaxed posture, having confirmed his suspicions. “… your friend is bleeding out. He needs help soon. Do you want me to provide that help? Are you willing to come home with me?”

Biting her lip, Mya worked through all the possibilities of what this man’s words might mean. Was she to be his slave? Or maybe he intended to marry her? Regardless, in that moment, Mya knew deep down she’d offer anything to save Flint’s life.

“Okay. I’ll go with you to your home, even if I’m going to be your slave. I’ll even gladly marry you—please, just save him.”

Mya was confused when the man expressed honest surprise. She struggled as he chuckled to himself.

Shaking his head like a father would to a child, the stranger’s mouth opened in a wide, soft smile.

“My dear. My intentions are perfectly simple. I have no wish to make you a slave. I’m not looking to marry anyone, let alone you. So please, come be a guest in my home.”

Mya nodded to the man. He sounded honest enough, but right now, she only cared for Flint’s safety. As soon as she scooted out of the way, the stranger set to moving the ant. As he worked, he made small noises to himself, all the while taking the greatest care not to cause Flint further harm.

Time felt meaningless down underground. Tears that had left trails on her dust-covered cheeks dried by the time the stranger finished. Watching him stand up, Mya truly understood how tall he was. Looking straight at him, she barely came up to the middle of his chest. If her estimation was correct, he had to be at least half a meter taller than Flint, standing at his full height.

“Is he going to be okay? Is Flint going to survive?”

The stranger turned to Mya as if she was an afterthought. For an instant, she swore a disgusted look crossed his face, but melted into an enormous smile when he looked at her.

“Yes, your friend should be okay now. The wounds looked far worse than they were. He’ll recover in a matter of days, though the healing process will be long and arduous. He should keep the bandages on I applied for at least a few days before swapping them out unless the bleeding is too bad.”

The stranger held his hand out to Mya and nodded his head as he commented, “Now, shall we be going, my dear? We’ve spent a considerable time down here, and I think it’s best we depart.”

She let her eyes drop to Flint and sighed heavily. A deal was a deal. She wouldn’t allow herself to break it. Just then, a flash of insight made her eyes light up. The stranger expressed a look of interest upon seeing her reaction. In a voice as strong as she could muster, she asked an important question she hadn’t thought of until now.

“I’m sorry, but what should I call you? My name’s Mya.”

The stranger dropped his hand with a smile. Cocking his head to the left, he nodded once.

“Mya is a lovely name. Please forgive me for my rudeness, my dear. I deeply apologize for not introducing myself sooner.

“My name is Archon.”

7

River

River’s lungs burned. It felt good pushing himself like this again. In his time living in the village, he could see how much had changed over the years. Each building he passed brought back memories of Flint as a child. So many memories. It was equally comforting and shocking to see what he’d built here with his son.

Skidding into a turn, his feet skidded on the path. As soon as he found purchase, he exploded in a new direction, toward the guard tower. Elen’s form dashed down the road, visible to all.

With each step, River found he was just a little closer to catching her.

It had been over a month since she had pulled a trick on him like this. Clearly it had been far too long since they’d run like this, given how hard a time he was having breathing. Elen’s lithe form slipped from shadow to shadow as she dodged back and forth across the street ahead. Somehow, she always won these foot races… almost like she was born for them. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought she was part rabbit.

Refusing to let her win tonight, he dropped his head and put on speed. The colored lights above mingled with the night, creating a kaleidoscope of different-colored shadows. Wiping a bead of sweat threatening to fall into his left eye, he could feel the clamminess of his skin. He’d needed a run more than he’d realized; the wind in his face felt so good. He’d missed this feeling.

River glanced up to see how close he was to the little gray sprite, but she’d already stopped. A large, shadowed form resting its hands on its hips killed the feeling of excitement like an executioner’s axe.

Slowing down to a trot, River eased back on his speed until he was gingerly walking up to the argument. Even without the lights above revealing Elen’s angry face, anyone could have seen this was going to be a problem from a mile away.

“What do you mean, we’re late? Who died and made you emperor?”

River flinched as Elen’s shrill voice screamed out into the night. Looking around to see if her wrath had woken someone, he let his eyes fall back on the man who had been waiting for them.

Murphy stepped into the lamplight that came off the front porch of the nearest house. A smug smile plastered across his enormous face. His beady, recessed eyes almost disappeared under folds of fat. Murphy’s large and intimidating presence was a well-known fact. But in all the time River had known the man, he’d yet to show fear of anything. River knew he had to do something—if anyone was going to ruin his mood, it would be Murphy.

“Would you two stop acting like kids?” River said.

He tried not to snicker as Elen and Murphy shared possibly the only thing they could agree upon—a disgusted look aimed in his direction.

Before a clever retort could diminish his statement, River pointed his finger at Murphy and said, “Look, Murphy. We were at Jo’s. She needed help with a customer, and given tonight…” Widening his arms out, he twisted to the left and right. “…there was no one else able or willing to help. Now, do you really want something bad happening in her place? Last time, the place got closed down for weeks.”

A dark mood passed across Murphy’s features in the low light. The writhing of the colored lights above made the man’s face look demonic. Movement caught River’s attention, and he acted on instinct, balling his hands into fists, waiting for an attack. Tension bled from him though as Murphy’s hands simply flew up into the air, followed by a long sigh. The man might be strong in body, but he’d never been strong of mind. That didn’t mean River wanted to give him a chance to sucker punch Elen.

He tried hard not to hold it against the idiot as Murphy purposefully walked too close, clipping his shoulder hard. The big man’s breath stank like rancid meat. He was sure Murphy was just waiting for a comeback, an excuse to prolong the fight.

Instead of taking the bait, he let the man pass, but threw a question over his shoulder.

“Where’s Alexander? Has he come back yet? Did he already leave? I don’t see him here with you.”

Murphy’s reply was almost too low to hear, but River caught enough to piece it together. Before he could speak, he whipped his hand out and grabbed the back of Elen’s jacket as she tried to race at Murphy, teeth bared, hands bunched and ready to punch. Keeping a firm hand on her, River turned around to confront Murphy.

“Why don’t you say that again, big man? I’m not sure everyone heard you clearly. Where is Alexander?”

Murphy rounded on him, but River refused to take a step back and give Elen the chance to attack.

In an overly loud voice, Murphy bellowed, “I said, I haven’t seen Alexander! Maybe if you weren’t out drinking and had been here on time, you might have seen him!”

Murphy’s beady eyes bored into his, but River refused to back down. The big man was a slight concern tonight, but something here didn’t make sense. River’s mind puzzled out what he wasn’t seeing. Last time he’d heard from Alexander was a few days ago, when he’d gone on patrol outside the walls.

Looking down at Elen, her scared, wide eyes met his. When he let her go, she ran to the ladder.

Turning back to Murphy, River stabbed a finger into the fat man’s chest hard enough to hurt him.

“If he’s dead, I swear to you… you’ll be the next one on patrol, and I might just forget to watch for you, too.”

River didn’t give Murphy time to sputter a response. Turning his back on the big man, he ran toward the ladder after Elen. Climbing as fast as he could, a quick glance up allowed him to see her step onto the tower platform. Once he joined her, she lit the brazier, throwing light far into the night.

Without a moment’s thought, River pulled the rifle off his shoulder as Elen jumped the short distance from the tower’s edge to the wall that protected the village. Out of the corner of his eye, River could see light from the other braziers on the village towers. Each watch tower standing safely behind the walls signaled that something was wrong. Now he’d have to wait until Elen could race to them and find out what the trouble was.

Looking through the scope mounted to his rifle always felt odd to River, but tonight, the enhancement comforted him. Unlike Elen or Jo, he didn’t have night vision, so he used the scope mounted to his rifle to compensate. Using slow, methodical movements, he searched the countryside below the wall for any sign of movement. Each pass felt chaotic. The lights in the sky transformed every shadow into a weird relief, creating strange shapes that weren’t there.

Several minutes passed with no sign of movement beyond the grass blades tossing about in the gentle wind. River was losing hope of ever seeing Alexander again with every passing moment. Being so focused on what he was doing, he didn’t catch the patter of Elen’s feet on her way back. When she landed on the floor of the tower, River jerked in surprise.

“Everyone already knows. They’re all looking for him. Any luck?”

River pulled away from the scope and locked eyes with Elen. The grim look on her face didn’t make him feel much better, but he jerked his head toward the grass in front of the walls. The only thing he could observe moving out there was the grass, as it always moved with the winds at night. Elen paused for a moment to think. It looked like she was going to say something but clearly decided better of it and instead turned to look out into the dark like he’d been doing. He was about to give up when Elen mumbled something almost unintelligible due to how quiet it was.

“Do you see that?”

Trying to decipher where she was pointing, he looked through the scope and panned back and forth slowly. Her voice directed him, but slowly fell into the background as he focused on his vision.

“Over there… No, to your left. Closer… Do you see it now?”

River pulled away from the scope and rubbed his eyes before resting the rifle back against his shoulder. As everything came back into focus, the grass swam into view. All he could see at first were the blades moving gently, but soon they became more and more aggressive. He followed the movement as it slowly resolved into something he could make out, and let go of a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding.

In a deadpan voice, he said, “I think Alexander is down there.”

“Really? Is he okay? Making us worry like this, he better be ready to buy a round at Jo’s for all of us. Well, maybe tea for you…” Listening to her cheery tone, he shared none of her emotion as he watched the movement. A stillness fell upon the two of them. Elen’s voice had a quiet, hard tone to it as she said, “It’s not him, is it?” Elen continued. “You know what to do.”

Elen focused on the areas beyond the walls with a grief-stricken look clouding her face. Getting back into position, he looked through the scope. The light from the aurora played off a broken piece of handmade sword that River recognized. It was sticking up above the grass as it bobbed toward the village walls.

He followed the sword down to a curving, rounded exoskeleton.

“Do it. Do it for Alexander. He’d want you to do it.”

River swallowed hard; the thought rocked him to his very core. The tone of her voice made it clear another one of their friends would never make it home to his family. Squeezing the trigger, River felt as if Alexander were there beside him in that moment, avenging his own death.

The noise was deafening.

Elen’s hand was up, holding one ear down to protect against the loud report. She had turned away to make the noise less painful, but there was no way she could truly get far enough away from the night’s pain.

River gave her an apologetic look before firing off three more shots down range.

He watched the creature for several minutes. Seeing no sign of movement, he finally let the rifle drop from his shoulder. His mouth tasted sour. Spitting over the side of the tower’s edge did little to wash away the taste.

During moments like this, River couldn’t help but question his motives for moving here so many years ago. When Flint had been young, it’d been easy to convince himself that things like this didn’t happen to those who lived in villages. Tonight, it hit home that there really was no place truly safe from the dangers of nature.

The rifle slipped from his fingers as Elen took it from him. Letting out a deep breath, River could feel his internal struggle quiet down. Knowing what he had to do now didn’t make things any easier.

Turning away from Elen, he stepped onto the ladder to head out. If she said anything to him on the way down, he didn’t hear it. His own internal thoughts were preparing him for what was to come.

8

River

Stepping out into the night from the musty shack that leaned heavily against the outer wall, River found his path blocked. With a hatchet in one hand and a beaten-up oil lantern in the other, he found he wasn’t really in the position to move Elen aside. She stood in the doorway, pressing her body against the door and extending her free arm to block his way. He had to admit she’d have made a good barricade if she wasn’t so short. Not wanting a confrontation, he tried to make things quick.

“Are you going to move? Or am I going to step over you? There’s a job to do.”

His monotone voice had an obvious effect on Elen. The pain etched on her face would normally have hurt to look at, but the numbness had spread deep inside him. When she dropped her arm, he moved past her. What she said next caused him to stop in his tracks.

“You know the rules. No one is supposed to go out there alone. You especially shouldn’t go out there tonight. You’re the one who took the shot.”

River couldn’t resist; He refused to look at her any longer and commented louder than needed.

“Look, if what I shot is what I think it is… I need to take care of this myself. Call it my last thanks to Alexander, okay?”

“I understand. But I refuse to allow you to go alone. I’m going out there with you. No arguments,” Elen replied reluctantly.

Nodding his head, River stepped out into the fresh air. With plodding footsteps, he dragged himself toward the front gate. The weight of the hatchet and lamp felt a little heavier in his hands with each step. Stopping at the gate, he noticed the comforting feeling of Elen standing to his left. They had always been together, even during the worst of times. Tonight, he knew he’d need her strength.

At Elen’s call, someone opened the gate to allow them to pass. Slipping out into the night as soon as they could, the two friends stood there guarding the entrance, waiting until the gate closed behind them. For a moment, River felt like the gate sounded like his heart closing itself off from the pain he’d have to confront tonight. The thought disappeared as quickly as it came, as his body worked on autopilot.

Lighting the oil lamp produced an immediate strong odor. The general area around the two friends smelled bitter, with the wind providing only intermittent relief from the caustic scent. Holding the lamp out in front of him, he led them into the razor grass. The closer he got, the more the razor grass bent back, turning its leaves away from him.

It was the smell. The village had taken a tremendous amount of time to train the grass so that it knew the particles in the oil were poisonous to it. How the plants knew this or even knew how to react, he was unsure. If he had to guess, it was most likely due to a Maker’s help.

Moving with purpose, the two friends traversed the natural barrier with cautious speed. River knew the lamp oil would run out soon enough, and he needed to ascertain the situation before they lost that protection.

It didn’t take long to find their quarry. As the lamplight added to the colors being thrown down from above, he swallowed hard, his fear overwhelming the feeling of numbness that had enveloped him moments before.

Holding the lamp high, he tried to get a good look at what lay before him in the grass. A deep red insect the size of a small cart stood slumped before them. Stories about giant insects came to mind that he’d heard of but never believed. Sure, his son had fallen into an ant hive, but those were half the size of a hog. Nothing like this. Having one lying before him made it hard to disregard the tall tales when he could see it with his own eyes.

The red chitin looked like thick armor on the insect. Deep cuts, nicks, and other small bits of damage crossed its bumpy surface. It chronicled what this creature had survived before dying. Leaning to his left, he looked down one side of the beast and saw a few arrow shafts embedded in its side. They clearly had penetrated the armored hide.

“No one is going to believe this… How do we even tell the others?”

He looked at Elen, her voice pulling him from his thoughts. It had been a long time since he’d seen her afraid. Between her look of fear and the ant, tonight was not something he’d ever forget.

“I think that’s the least of our problems.”

When Elen looked up to meet his eyes, River continued. “From the stories, ants move in packs. Either they’re looking for a new home or ate the land bare and are searching for food. But there is one other option…”

He looked back at the ant, letting his words fall away. The silence didn’t last long, though.

“What other option? What are you thinking, River?”

Letting his eyes roam across the chitin in search of a clue, he answered Elen mechanically.

“Maybe something pushed them out of their territory and forced them to look for a new home. At least if the stories the traders tell are anything to go by.”

As he walked to the left of the ant, he halted upon spotting a broken piece of metal embedded in the ant’s back. A spiderweb of cracks appeared in the chitin. River yanked it free. Released from its prison, the broken metal piece bounced off the shell multiple times before it fell to the ground.

Finding Elen standing near the head, he tried to put as much feeling as he could into his voice. “Take this shard of Alexander’s broken blade back to his family and explain what happened… please. I’ll walk you back through the grass.”

Elen placed her fists on her hips and glared at him.

“Okay, I can do that. But what about you?”

Bringing his hatchet back as far back as he could, he slammed the heavy implement into the ant’s side. Chips of chitin burst into the air, rattling his body as shrapnel flew all around him.

He answered her in an angry tone. “Someone has to break this down before it attracts attention. Not to mention the village could use the meat. Just make sure the towers keep a lookout for other creatures like this one. I don’t want to get caught unawares out here like… like poor Alexander did.”

9

Archon

Archon found he took little satisfaction watching the girl’s booted feet disappear above him. Letting his eyes drift down, he inspected the odd find resting in his hands. It had been a long time since he had last seen a working flashlight. While two oddballs finding a working piece of technology like this was interesting, it wasn’t unheard of. He took a little satisfaction watching as it slipped from his open hand and bounced off the dusty white tile floor.

With one last sweeping look around the underground ruin, he bent over and marked it on his map. He planned to come back here later for supplies or any other odds and ends that might be needed. Archon smiled to himself. This week had been an unusual but oddly satisfying one. By all appearances, it looked like it would continue that way for a while, at least.

Archon cocked his head to the left and listened. He cracked his neck and popped his knuckles.

Turning around, he bellowed out into the open warehouse in a low, deep voice, “You can come out now. As you can see, I mean her no harm.” While he and Mya had talked, he’d heard the beast rise and struggle to follow them. The humanoid wolf limped out into the aisle. He could see it was struggling to stand. It was surprising the wolf could move given it had to hold on to the shelves for support. Frustration swelled within Archon’s breast. This world never quite knew when it was time to give up. An evil smile formed on his lips when the wolf said in a scratchy voice, “Where is my friend? Where is Mya?”

Archon found he was a little impressed—a strong wind looked like it could throw this freak down, yet it continued its struggle to speak to him.

For a split-second, Archon admitted to himself that he enjoyed times like these. In a world that had gone mad because of genetic mutation, he’d never expected to be shown mercy, and he showed none now.

Surging forward, he gripped the wolf by the throat. Experience told him to rip the beast’s throat out. Hearing it gasp for breath made that feeling swell, and he smiled at that thought.

Instead of allowing his training to kick in, he had a little fun. Using his upper body strength, he slammed the wolf’s head down onto the metal shelf. The cathartic sound of its head denting the metal gave him a small thrill.

Not willing to give the wolf time to react, Archon moved in. He’d show it how futile fighting back would be. Regardless, the wolf would be fortunate to learn its lesson before dying from the injury. That didn’t mean Archon couldn’t have his fun, and it wasn’t like the beast would have any choice in the matter. He’d do it a favor, putting it out of its misery.

Using his mass, he forcibly slid the wolf’s head along the shelf, knocking all the refuse to the floor in a clatter of debris. As its head slammed into the end of the aisle, the metal panel made a hollow thud. Pulling the wolf back a few centimeters, Archon used his arms to pound the wolf into the sheet metal over and over. The loud sound of bolts snapping was the only thing that stopped him from continuing the fun.

Letting the wolf’s neck slip from his grasp, he watched with glee as the beast slumped to the ground. Wiping his hands on his pants, he tried to remove the disgusting remnants of the genetic freak from his hands. Turning his back on the dying creature, he walked toward the rope.

Before he could start his ascent, a hand closed over his shoulder.

A voice croaked out, “Stop… You’re… not taking her!”

Archon dropped his head forward and shook it as he sighed, realizing he’d been smeared with the blood of the genetic freak. He received little enjoyment as his fist impacted the wolf straight in the nose. Blood exploded out of it and Archon took a step back to avoid the droplets of tainted liquid. It was bad enough he’d gotten some of that disgusting stuff on his hands while patching up the beast. Punching the wolf in the gut, he felt a rib or two break under the strain.

He added insult to injury, when he asked, “You will just not give up, will you? Your kind never makes it easy for me. I’ve already taken the girl. You can give up now. Your time in this world has long since passed.”

Archon found himself surprised by the beast’s determination. As he was throwing the next punch, the wolf brought up his own fist—he could have hit him! But Archon calculated the trajectory. Twitching his head to the left, the wolf’s fur tickled his cheek.

He took a step back to get a better look at his opponent. The beast was teetering on its legs. It was clearly about to collapse on his own. Archon smiled as he launched a hard kick straight into the wolf’s abdomen. He watched the beast slide back before falling to the ground.

“Stay down. Though I think the term humanity used to use was ‘down, boy!’”

A sharp cough came from the wolf, and Archon frowned. Inspecting his fallen opponent, he found there were new pools of blood forming under it. The beast would die here. Turning his back on the dying animal, he walked to the rope hanging down from the opened skylight. It had been a good day in his eyes, but now it was time for him to clean up and head home.

Getting a good grip on the rope, he hauled himself up onto the shelves. Each pull brought him closer to the fresh air he craved. Maybe then he’d feel less soiled by this entire experience with the wolf he’d simultaneously saved, then pummeled to death.

An enormous grin spread across his face at the sheer strangeness of today. It was a minor comfort knowing he now had a willing human host with him. Reaching up to grip the edge of the hole, he looked back down at the bleeding wolf before hauling himself up into the open air.

10

River

The hatchet fell, spraying mucus into the air, shedding droplets of slimy projectiles.

The blade came down to shatter the last of the exoskeleton. River stepped back as the last pieces of meat sloughed off into a small pile, resting on the slime-covered grass. Digging his hands into the soft, fibrous meat, he pulled the slick tissue up onto his shoulder.

The morning sun burned bright in the sky, causing his eyes to ache. Thoughts tried to invade his tired mind, but he refused to let them gain entry, to fester and grow. He was out here doing his best to clean up the meat before it would spoil, sure he could have let the others do it from the village, but few wanted to be out here in the grass. He’d leave it to the rest of the village to take care of the remains and burn the small area around where the ant had died. River was tired, but he refused to stop before he finished what he saw as his responsibility.

Bending down to retrieve the hatchet, he stood up and glanced over his shoulder. The walls of the village stood tall, proud, and… unmanned. If things were that bad inside, he wouldn’t make much difference. A small part of him wanted to drop the meat on the ground and run toward the gates. But the villagers needed all the meat they could get as the hunters had been finding less game lately.

Gritting his teeth, he held his lantern out. River pulled his foot up out of the slimy mud with a sucking sound and plodded through the grass. Each step was hard work that drained his exhausted body of what little energy he had left. Everything seemed to work against him today.

Looking at the top of the walls again, something tickled the back of his mind. Elen wasn’t there, though she’d certainly stick around for him until he returned. As he stepped onto the small path that surrounded the village, a small sigh escaped his lips. The sound of the doors grinding open was loud in the morning air. Being so drained, he had just enough energy to stop in his tracks and wonder why anyone would open them so early. A flushed guard came racing out of the gap. It was hard for River to understand why this man was running straight at him so suddenly.

The man was clearly struggling, dressed in common metal-pitted armor that someone had pieced together years ago. Wearing things like a breastplate was terribly inconvenient even during special occasions, which was why River himself had never worn one. Whatever the guard was doing had to be very important if he was willing to run in armor.

Before River’s tired brain realized it, the guard slammed full tilt into him. The two men went down in a tumble of arms and legs.

Slick mucus ran down River’s neck and into his hair. As his head came down hard on the piece of thick ant meat, a squelching sound filled the air. Disentangling himself from the mess, River sat up and watched as the guard jumped to his feet. To his surprise, the guard seemed so distracted with whatever was on his mind that he barely acknowledged River—he mumbled a distracted apology over his shoulder and took off again.

Before he’d even taken three steps, he turned around and yelled with delayed recognition. “River!”

Raising an eyebrow in frustration and feeling slightly insulted for being run into then ignored, River pierced the guard with an angry look. The man simply stood there panicking. With his luck, it would be Murphy who’d sent this poor guy out to find him. River didn’t have the patience for this after all he’d done last night.

Murphy should really keep everyone else out of our business.

With a disinterested tone, he begrudgingly asked, “What do you need? Did you purposefully knock me down, or was that just for fun? I mean, I’ve been out here all night. The least you could have done is help me up.”

Looking terribly flustered, the guard grabbed River by the hand and hauled him to his feet. “I’m sorry. I’m in such a hurry. Well… was in a hurry… I was looking for you.”

A tired smile came to River’s lips as he stared at the guard, who was wiping his slime-covered hands off using his pants. He refused to point out that the slime also covered the man’s chest armor.

Poor guy. Getting that out of the armor’s pitted surface is going to be a hell of a time.

He smiled at the thought. While this small moment helped him feel a little better, it was all erased as the slime in his hair found an opening along his jacket’s neckline. A cold, slithering sensation trickled along his neck as the slime worked its way down between his shoulder blades. He sighed.

“You said you were in a hurry, and so am I. If you don’t mind, I want to store this dirty meat in the smokehouse before it goes bad. Then I can go home, clean up and get some much-deserved sleep. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Turning toward the open gate, River took a few steps before the guard responded.

“It’s Flint! We found him. He’s hurt, but the healer says he’s going to be okay. I was told to find you. You need to come now.”

River struggled to understand what the man was saying. A fog of fear, pain, and turmoil rolled over his mind, and stabbed into heart. Forgetting everything he’d been about to do, he let go of the meat and sprinted toward the gate.

Questions assaulted his mind one after another like an endless wave.

What did that guard mean? Where did they find Flint? How’d he get hurt? Did something happen last night in the village? Did someone attack our home?

The mud and slime covering the soles of his boots threatened to throw him off balance as he made a hard turn at the gate. With one hand gripping the cold metal, River pulled himself through the gap in the gate before racing down the road. Several hours ago, he’d been racing these same streets, playfully chasing Elen, but now everything looked surreal and confusing. Everyone he passed seemed so normal and relaxed. Many people waved at him as he flew past. Some gave him disgusted looks, but being covered in slime, he couldn’t really blame them.

Pain cut into his side, but he refused to let it slow him. He was mentally strong enough to keep going—only the fatigue that gradually built in his legs was enough to give his reckless dash pause. Grabbing onto the closest building, he bent over painfully, pulling in deep breaths while trying not to get dizzy. Working to refill his lungs, he looked around but couldn’t understand what he saw. Why were so many going about their day like nothing bad had happened? If there had been an attack he wasn’t aware of, nothing indicated its occurrence.

As soon as his vision cleared, he pulled himself up into a standing position and forced his legs to propel him the remaining steps forward. Stumbling like a drunk, he bounced into people as he navigated the busy street. Each time, he mumbled an apology and pushed past them, using their bodies to help move the next few steps.

His knees went weak, and his vision blurred. He was just moments from passing out. It was then two pairs of hands grabbed him under his arms. It was a welcome relief, a small drizzle of warmth in the ice-cold stream of his fear. Someone had sent help to aid his journey to the healer’s hut to see what this was all about. Allowing his two helpers to guide him forward, he closed his eyes for a moment and let his vision settle.

When his head stopped spinning, he opened them again. They followed a gravel path to the healer’s hut, which was covered in splotches of drying blood. Looking up from the ground, River tried to focus, but then his eyes fell upon Elen’s face.

Standing before the healer’s small hut, hand on one hip, the look on her face told its own story. Concern, pain, and frustration marred her gray-and-black features in such a way that it distorted her black-masked appearance. Before River could find the words to ask her anything, she was pushing ahead like she always did.

“River… we just found him. Flint is okay. Pretty beaten up, cut up. But the healer’s saying he should pull through. Someone patched him up before he crawled his way here.” Tears blurred River’s vision, and Elen dissolved into a mass of blotchy gray color. He found himself unable to keep his feelings at bay. Elen continued, “I’d like to tell you everything is going to be fine, but there’s more. Apparently, if it weren’t for Mya’s parents noticing her absence this morning, we might not have found Flint in time. Mya is missing; her search party came across Flint. We’re not sure what happened or how Flint was where we found him. We won’t be able to question him about it until he wakes up.”

River nodded, trying to understand the situation. But nothing made sense—Flint had been asleep in his room last night. How could someone have found him outside the walls?

In an emotion-choked voice, he asked the only question that mattered to him.

“Can I please see my son?”

11

Johnathan

Groaning didn’t help Johnathan feel any better, yet he did it all the same. Every little movement he made caused his head to throb. Opening his eyes felt like spikes of pure agony were ripping through his skull. Keeping his eyes closed for the time being, he eased himself up into a sitting position as he continued the concoction of audible groans. Dragging his legs off the bed, he felt them impact the hard-packed dirt floor with a thud.

He stood with another complement of grunts, curses, and complaints, then lurched toward the room’s hanging sheet that doubled as a wall. Pushing past the barrier, he found himself in a small one-room building that had few decorations, short of the most modest of things that showed it was someone’s home. Seeing a clay pitcher with matching cups sitting on what looked like an old kitchen table had him smiling.

Johnathan fell onto the rough wooden bench seat with a groan, causing his head to throb angrily. Reaching out with shaking hands, he grabbed the pitcher of liquid sitting before him and poured himself a drink. He quickly threw it back. The water was pleasantly cool, just what he needed. Or so he thought. When the liquid hit his stomach, it lurched and threatened to come back up. Waiting until his stomach stopped rolling, he downed cup after cup.

It was going to be a long morning.

Just as the water was easing his headache-bordering-on-a-migraine, the front door flew open. He jerked hard enough to splash water all over himself. Sputtering a quick reply to explain why he was here, he turned to the new arrivals.

“Look… Someone brought me here last night… I’m sorry, I was a tad drunk last night and—”

His words died in his mouth. An angry, scowling raccoon in a black leather jacket was glaring at him. While she looked vaguely familiar, he couldn’t place where he’d seen her before. She clearly didn’t have time for him to puzzle it out, as she barked angry commands in his direction.

“Either help me or get out of the way! Although I’m glad to see you’re up—now River can use his own bed. Finally.”

Johnathan had to take a moment to understand what he was seeing and hearing. As he stood there gawking, the raccoon stepped aside and two embarrassed, young-looking men came shuffling in, holding a mostly limp man between them. It was such a strange sight; Johnathan blinked a few times to come to terms with what was happening.

Was that me last night? Is this where they bring the village drunks?

The men smiled in his general direction as they passed, moving the third man toward the bed Johnathan had woken up in earlier.

Having found that being helpful was the best way to live life, Johnathan quickly moved to the hanging sheet and pulled it back, allowing the two young men into the bedroom. They placed the third man onto the bed gently. Johnathan felt at odds for not doing more.

One of them stood and looked on as the other covered the reclining man with the thin blankets Johnathan had used last night.

The raccoon’s sharp voice called out behind the men. Behind the men, the raccoon declared with a sharp voice, “Okay, your usefulness is done here. You both have jobs to do. Now git, or I’ll have a talk with your supervisor.”

Johnathan tried not to smile even as he felt a little bad for the two young men. They nodded, and quietly thanked him as they passed by. It was hard to miss the look that passed between them—they clearly held both fear and respect for this little raccoon woman. So much respect, in fact, that after they had left, one of the two came back just to close the front door that hadn’t quite notched shut. Johnathan wondered if they were trying to be nice, or possibly just wanted to prevent the spunky raccoon from yelling at them further.

Turning to the man lying on the bed, a hint of recognition coming back to him. He was the man who had come to his aid at the bar… he was sure of it.

Pointing down at the man with a finger, Johnathan turned to the raccoon.

“This is the man who helped me out last night, correct?”

Looking back at the woman, he found the raccoon’s brooding look centered on him. She nodded sharply, never breaking eye contact with him, and that told him all he needed to know about her. Somehow, she felt he was dangerous, at least if her attitude was anything to go by.

Sighing, Johnathan shrugged. Slipping out from behind the sheet and letting it fall to create the small barrier between the sleeping man and his guests, Johnathan looked at the raccoon. Trying to smile the friendliest he could, he opened his mouth to say something, but she beat him to it.

“I talked to Jo this morning. I’ve got a basic idea of who you are. Something’s happened. We’re gonna need your help. Are you feeling up to coming with me?”

An icy shiver ran down Johnathan’s back. Something about her tone of voice spoke of something being seriously wrong. After nodding in her direction, he acted on impulse and strode past her with several gigantic steps.

Opening the door, he looked over his shoulder at the raccoon.

“Let us go. Whatever has happened, it sounds like there is little time left to remedy it.”

The sharp nod he got from the raccoon and the long explanation he received as they walked through town told him all he needed to know.

Upon leaving the main gate, his stomach was upset for the second time that day, though for entirely different reasons. Moving through the razor grass during the day was a breeze, as it went dormant during the daylight hours. He gladly stepped into the forest, which dispersed the heat of the day under its welcoming shadows.

Elen said, “So, this is where the search group said they found Flint. Jo said you can track like the best of them. Are you sure you can do this? I’m not sure I should trust you, but Jo does, and that says a lot.”

Johnathan turned to the raccoon and felt his heart rise in his throat. Her pleading, hurt eyes stabbed right through him. No matter how old he got, he found times like this never got any easier. Not trusting his voice, he just nodded.

Turning away from those hurt-filled eyes, he surveyed the ground for signs of where this Flint person had come from.

Absently, he said to her, “Okay, tell me again who you are. And who is this missing person we are looking for?”

The frustrated sigh he got in response reminded him he’d most likely asked her these questions before. At his age, it was a wonder he remembered anything anymore.

“For the tenth time, my name’s Elen. We’re trying to figure out how our boy Flint got hurt. He was bleeding heavily, and his best friend Mya’s still missing. We’re not sure if he’s to blame or if someone attacked them last night.”

Nodding along to her words, he found himself drawn forward by little flecks of dried blood on the ground. He took in what she said, but his focus had him moving through the brush in a direct line. The farther he went, the clearer the signs became.

Curiosity got the best of him, so he asked, “Tell me again why he and this Mya were out here last night? Is it not dangerous to do something like that?”

Elen’s sad, quiet voice pulled his eyes back to her as she looked at the ground while she answered.

“We don’t know why those two were out here last night. No one’s got a clue. To answer your question, yes, we all know it’s dangerous here at night.”

Feeling the need to reach out and hug the poor woman, Johnathan restrained himself. It wouldn’t be right to do something that might make her feel uncomfortable, though it was hard not to. A moment passed before her eyes met his, and then they narrowed. She pointed behind him, and he turned to follow her gaze.

“What is that?” she said.

Off to the side of the blood trail, a rope tied around a tree stretched out in a trajectory that would intercept the blood trail given enough distance. A smile forming on his lips, Johnathan dashed toward the rope.

“Good job, kid. What a way to leave a trail.”

He found it led exactly where they needed to go. Standing before the hole the rope fell into, Johnathan watched Elen examine the surrounding area. Waiting a moment for her to form her own opinions, he then crouched down and thought out loud as he inspected their discovery.

“Looks like those two found an ancient crypt of some sort. They clearly broke through a skylight and used the rope to get down there. The real question is, how did they know about it beforehand? But no, that is not important right now, is it?”

Completing his inspection, he looked up at Elen and found her questioning eyes boring into his. With a nod, he bent down to get a solid grip on the rope. Before she could say something, he winked at her. The confused look she gave him brought back old memories. He couldn’t help but think of his wife, who used to give him a similar look.

With a small smile forming on his lips, he eased himself down into the hole.

“Hey! Where are you going? You don’t know what you’re getting into down there!”

Johnathan found some comfort in her words as they chased him into the hole. It wasn’t a reprimand so much as a show of concern. She didn’t stop talking and demanding that he come back until after his feet had hit the white tile floor.

Taking a moment, he inspected what little he could using the light shining down from above. When he saw an Ever-Ready flashlight lying close to his feet, he was happily surprised. He shook the metal tube in his hand a few times, and then his thumb accidentally hit the button, causing a beam of bright white light to flare into life.

Able to see thanks to the light source, he couldn’t help but whistle.

Above him, Elen stammered, “Wh-what did you find down there? Are you okay? Speak to me, old man…”

Using the flashlight, he moved it across the tops of the metal shelves, the rafters, and aisle after aisle of old consumer products. He felt like he’d hit the mother lode.

Reigning in his instinct to explore, he took a moment before he answered, “I’m okay. Your friends found a supermarket.”

Elen’s response was what he expected from people these days.

“A what? What is so super about a market? Speak in real terms, will you?”

Turning the light to the floor, he tracked the signs of where there had been heavy movement. There had been a struggle of some sort. That’s when he noticed something uniquely odd.

Crouching, he shone the beam of light over a pile of dust that a weighted form had imprinted, then yelled up, “How big is your boy Flint, or this girl Mya?”

There was a questioning tone to Elen’s response. “What? Flint is over two meters tall. Mya’s only a meter and a half tall, maybe a tad more. Why? What are you getting at?”

Playing the light over the imprint to bring out more detail, Johnathan stood up and inspected the rest of the bloodstains and dried pools of blood.

When he’d seen enough, he looked up through the hole and asked, “How many of you wear military combat boots?”

“What? What are you even talking about? Who uses boots for combat?”

Elen’s voice told him all he needed to know. “You said you found your boy near here? He is still alive, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I got some questions for the kid…”

12

Archon

“May I ask you a question, dear?”

Archon smiled at Mya as she turned to face him. The morning light graced her features, surprising him as he saw the young woman as something beyond a mere genetic sample. It was a situation he’d have to ponder later—such thinking was very unlike him. Seeing the look of concern on her face had his mind thinking hard about what to say next.

Not wanting his plaything to become scared, he added a little more warmth to his voice than he would’ve normally.

“It’s nothing important, really. I just wanted to ask why you were down in those ruins last night? Given how dangerous such places can be, it surprised me to find someone like you there.”

“Are you trying to say I shouldn’t have gone down there to explore at night? I had every right to be down there. I could handle everything thrown at us.”

Watching her features melt into a more thoughtful expression, he considered how to answer her question.

“It was impressive how you two fended off that giant insect. While it’s not common for dangers like that to lurk within ruins, one should always come well prepared to ward off danger… especially one as beautiful as you.”

The compliment clearly had the effect he wanted, for a smile spread across the girl’s face and her hand came up to play with her hair. In this lighting, the young woman appeared almost charming.

Feeling a tad uncomfortable, he tried to keep himself busy scanning the surrounding area. Other than themselves, his satellite scans showed no heat blooms larger than a small bird in the general area. But even the satellite imagery couldn’t keep his mind focused. He knew he couldn’t afford to allow himself to get attached to this walking specimen.

Looking away from the girl afforded him some mental distance, even if he knew he was just wasting time. Mya’s confident voice pulled his eyes unnervingly back toward her.

“I had found signs of the ruin a few days ago. Flint and I had to wait till we knew it was safe to sneak out. We went at night because we didn’t want to be noticed by the others and have our find taken from us.”

“Ah… I see. You were looking to explore the ruins to take what you could so you and your family could survive. Smart. It leaves your competition fighting over the leftover items only after you’ve had your take. Makes perfect sense.”

Time bled out during the pregnant pause, and Archon focused his attention on Mya. This interaction was highly unusual—indeed, it would be something to think about later once he decided what to do with her.

The young woman was clearly thinking over what he had said. He found a part of himself hoping she wasn’t an idiot and could read between the lines of his words. Either that, or she was going to make for a very boring travel companion.

Mya said, “Hmm, I can see why you’d say something like that. I know several people who would have done exactly that. But I didn’t go there to scavenge. My interest had to do with questions I have about the past.”

Surprised, Archon rubbed his chin. Her comment immediately piqued his interest. Maybe she was more interesting than he’d first given her credit for.

“Let me get this straight: you didn’t go down there for the items ruins tend to have, but went down to feed your curiosity?”

The shake of her head was as unexpected as the rock that Archon’s foot hit at that very moment. The unexpected situation caused him to stumble forward for a few steps.

Righting himself, he turned back to Mya and found her several steps closer, holding her arm out. He analyzed her body’s position but couldn’t understand what she was doing—this clearly wasn’t an attack. When the thought came to him, she had been reaching out to help him. It left his mind as quickly as a whisper dying on the wind.

No one truly helped one another in this world. He was living proof of that very fact.

“Are you okay? Looks like you tripped. Do we need to stop?”

Finding himself unsure how to respond, Archon ground his teeth together. Taking a deep breath to let his mind clear, and tried to parry her show of care with a proportional display of confidence.

“I’m fine. It was a simple mistake. I need to be more careful when walking this rough terrain… roads are not what they once were.” Feeling as though he hadn’t truly answered her question, said, “Th-thank you for asking, dear. You were saying?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” She waved her hand around them, encompassing the world at large. He found himself unexpectedly curious to hear what she had to say. “Um, yeah, so…… I’ve always been interested in how we got here. I’ve read a few books from the old world. Not much matches what those books describe anymore. Sure, some trees, plants, and animals look the same… but then you have people like my best friend. I saw nothing like him in them.”

Archon couldn’t help but narrow his eyes as he came to realize this woman was possibly more dangerous than he’d given her credit for.

“Your best friend?”

When she scrunched up her face and looked at him funny, he questioned himself, wondering if he’d missed something.

“Yeah, silly. My best friend Flint who you helped save. I found nothing about people like him in those books about the past. I’m sure there’s something out there though, but I’ve yet to find it.”

He looked away from the woman. He didn’t want her to see him flinching. Just thinking about that beast’s polluted genetics, possibly finding their way into a cut or scrape, made him ill. Wiping his hands on his pants, he again made sure there was nothing left on his skin. Mind whirling with how to salvage this conversation, he looked at her and forced a smile, hoping it came across as a cheerful expression.

“Speaking of your…” He had to clear his throat to force the words out. “… best friend, I’m left with a question. I was a stranger, and I offered you a choice. You didn’t respond by attacking me or trying to run away to get help. Instead, you accepted my help.” Focusing intently on her features, he continued with. “I helped you with your friend, but the price was you traveling with me to my home. So, that leaves me puzzled—why haven’t you tried to run away yet?”

It surprised him to realize he’d have accepted any answer at that moment. Despite that, he found himself totally unprepared for the answer he received.

“I made a deal with you. They always taught me to keep my word. Plus, traveling with you means I can see parts of the world I normally couldn’t safely. Think of all the marvels you and I will see together on our trip to your home!”

He couldn’t help himself and incredulously asked, “Were you not afraid of what I might have done to you… or might still do?”

He hid his surprise when she shook her head.

“No, I’m not afraid. Sure, I faced a genuine dilemma in that ruin, but I think I read people well. You seemed lonely, but overall, you seem like an okay guy. Plus, if you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done it down there when there was no place for me to run.”

While her reply was partially incorrect, he found she had a point. Unsure how to handle the situation, he turned away from her to continue their journey.

13

Elen

Dusty light fell through the windows, highlighting a sad and lonely table. Sitting in the center of the room, the table looked very alone, with the rest of its kind pushed against the room’s north wall in shadow. A flickering candle shed light on the men and women standing around it, looking down at it. Spread across its flat surface was a pile of maps, relics from the bygone era. A dour ambience permeated the room as the small group of people waited for the last arrival.

The creak of the front door dragged everyone’s eyes to it. Stepping from the sunny morning daylight into their shadowed enclave was the bulky form of Murphy. Everyone’s eyes followed the man as he walked to the table. Placing two meaty fists on it, he bent forward to inspect what lay scattered across it in the dim light. Elen tried to wait patiently, but when he didn’t straighten up, she let out a loud sigh to grab his attention.

She locked eyes with the large man and saw the anger burning there, but she was far from intimidated. His next statement came across as tired.

“What are we doing here? I should be sleeping and the rest of you should be out doing… whatever it is you normally do during the day.”

Angry grumbling started up around Elen. If she didn’t do something soon, this would most likely turn into a shouting match. It was clear many in the room felt the same way she did about this slovenly man. Narrowing her eyes, she took a breath, but Jo cut her off from any reply she could have come up with.

“Murphy.”

Her voice was almost a whisper, but there was obvious danger to her words in the way her voice twisted his name almost into a curse. The entire room fell silent. Everyone avoided looking at the large man and shifted quietly. When Jo continued, Elen swore she heard those nearest her let go of the breath they’d been holding, for fear she might turn her wrath on them.

“You are here to listen. Once we’re done, you can have a say. I’m the one who required you to be here. It was to stop you from causing problems later. But if you wish to cause problems now… you know where the door is.”

Watching her point toward the front door with an unwavering finger made Elen smile. Glancing from Jo to Murphy and back again, she knew the bartender was deadly serious.

The man had gone pale. Jo, on the other hand, had a surprisingly sweet smile plastered on her face, directed at her.

In a sweet voice, she quipped, “You can continue, Elen. I think you have the floor right now. Please share what you want with us. Don’t you worry, we’re all here to support you, hon.”

For the first time, Elen understood why so many worried about Jo getting angry at them.

Mumbled assent from all around her made Elen feel slightly uncomfortable. She normally relied on River to speak on her behalf to groups. This morning it was left to her, with him fast asleep after all he’d been through last night. Not to mention the shock of finding out about Flint this morning.

Trying with all her might, she struggled to gain an ounce of bravery from thinking about her best friend’s doggedness. Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment before addressing the group.

“First off, thank you all for coming. As I’m sure it’s known village-wide by now, last night, Flint and Mya snuck outside the walls. Something happened, and Mya’s missing. Whatever happened out there also left Flint unconscious. He’s now in the healer’s hut after crawling back to our walls.”

Elen had to stop a moment; fear thudded in her chest like a wild animal. A part of her wished she were staring down at a wild bear instead of standing here. When she glanced in Jo’s direction, the woman’s smile gave her a small bit of courage.

“I want to introduce you to someone who helped us get some idea of what happened last night. Some of you older residents might know of the man. This is Johnathan. He, in his own words, is a scavenger.”

To Elen’s great relief, she watched the old man step closer to the candle, illuminating his weather-beaten features. The enormous smile he wore was almost infectious, and it wasn’t lost on her. He received a few nods of recognition from some standing around the table. While Johnathan busied himself with a satchel hanging off his hip, Elen continued.

“Our search party that went looking for Mya returned almost immediately after finding Flint outside the village. He had been seriously hurt. He has cuts and bruises, but he’ll survive. There will be obvious scarring due to the wounds, though. The hunters brought him to the south gate to see the healer. That’s the reason River didn’t learn of what had happened until we sent someone to find him. The stupid idiots didn’t listen to where he was and ran off to the wrong area.”

Elen attempted to settle her nerves while comments were thrown around in quiet whispers. She had talked with Johnathan earlier, and he’d felt he’d be best at describing what they’d found. With him busy laying out sheets across the table, she felt compelled to fill up the silence.

“I’m not done, people!”

The room quickly quieted. She looked at Murphy, her eyes bored into him. When she felt comfortable enough to continue, she pushed herself forward.

“I went to the village leaders, but we couldn’t find any volunteers to go out with me. River’s exhaustion prevented them from helping any further, so Johnathan took the initiative and volunteered.”

Elen glanced toward Jo and locked eyes with the woman before turning to the old man.

“Jo felt Johnathan wouldn’t only be willing but more capable of understanding what had happened than anyone else here. Hear him out. This will affect us all, I’m sure.”

Johnathan nodded, and Elen felt a little better. The entire room turned to him, but it was then she noticed Jo cross her arms over her chest before glancing in his direction. That reticence. Later, she’d have to ask Jo about that. Her eyes drifted back to Johnathan as he began.

“Hello folks. Some of you I have not seen in some time, and I’m sorry I do not have better information to share today. As several of you know, I’m a scavenger of old things. Sorta fitting, given my age, huh?”

Elen smiled as Johnathan scratched the back of his head and beamed an infectious smile.

“A few weeks back, I ran into a group of travelers who had settled down in what you might call an ‘old soldier’s home.’ At one time, they’d have called it an army base. Forgive me the older terms… it’s just easier for me to relate the information that way.”

A few nods from the small group seemed to ease the old man’s tongue.

“Now, I’d rather not bring this up, but it’s the whole reason I came here as fast as I could. It seems you might have two problems cropping up at once—ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, I passed by this soldier’s home and there was an encampment of travelers. It was a large group, not unheard of, and most likely hunkering down there for the winter months. I went in search of more ruins in the general area.”

Elen bristled. Even if she had heard this story before, watching the others in the room looking around at each other made her angry. Instead of yelling at them, she bunched her fists and looked at Johnathan. He met her glance and winked at her.

“Not a big deal, right? I’m sure all of you must be wondering why I bring this up. But the reason I went back to that soldier’s home days later was because I heard gunfire. Several rounds’ worth.”

Elen looked around; his statements clearly had gotten their attention now. They were most likely feeling the same way she did when she first learned of this, and she braced herself for the rest.

“Not having the good sense to get out of the area, I went back to check on those people.”

A few chuckles and nods from people made Elen think several here knew him well. Oddly, it gave her some comfort to know so many knew this man. Maybe he was a good person after all.

“The entire clan, down to the last man, woman, and child, wiped out.” Everyone was gone. Bullet holes in the concrete and blood from the fallen remained, along with all their stuff.

Elen almost flinched as Murphy’s voice piped up. “Concrete? What is that? What are you talking about, old man? Making up stories just to scare us?”

Johnathan didn’t acknowledge the statement, and Elen’s view of him rose significantly.

“For those of you who do not know, like my boy over here with the colossal head…” Elen smiled as Johnathan brought his thumb back toward Murphy. “… ‘concrete’ is another older term. What do you people call it out here? Gray sandstone? Soft rock?”

Elen nodded as a small collection of people agreed on the latter. Johnathan appeared to be appeased by the acknowledgment.

“It couldn’t have been Scavs, as we all know they leave one hell of a mess behind. What I found surprised even me. There were signs of living metal. Someone had also been walking around in what I’d call ‘combat boots.’ Watching, Elen noticed Johnathan wave everyone off before they could ask about that old term. She had inquired about it earlier, but had refused to believe him until she saw the evidence with her own eyes. “Before you ask more questions, let me finish. Your boy Flint and your girl Mya ended up finding some sort of ruin out in the woods. From the looks of things, they found their way in, then something bad happened. The signs suggest someone attacked Flint and kidnapped Mya.” He held up his hands again to forestall the deluge of questions, and Elen found she admired his ability to hold a room’s attention. “A giant ant attacked Flint within those ruins. The good thing is, it was only a single ant, and they somehow killed it.”

Audible gasps of fear punctuated that statement. Everyone here knew the dangers the ants posed, given they’d lost one of their own to an ant last night. The memory of seeing the dead ant down below in that underground area sent shivers up Elen’s spine.

“But after that, the poor boy looks like he fought someone off. Most likely the same one who kidnapped Mya, if I had to guess. The poor kid got his tail handed to him by the looks of things.”

“Who’d do such a thing?”

“Is our village going to come under attack next?”

“Is it slavers?”

Johnathan did hist best to shrug, nod or answer to the best of his limited ability. It went on, and Johnathan let it wash over him as he looked down at the table. Elen continued to find herself impressed by the old man. All the questions died off when he glanced up and scanned the room, looking each person in the eye.

“I understand you have your concerns and questions, but there are other issues at play here. You have ants probing the area surrounding your village. So, they are making a new nest, or something forced them from their old one. Either way, bad news.”

Elen flinched as people behind her openly cried, and others freaked out. A sharp blow to the table brought everyone’s attention to Jo, the owner of that fist, and when she looked up at everyone, the room quieted.

Her quiet but strong voice filled the room as she said, “Quiet now. Johnathan has not finished speaking. He showed you respect by explaining all this; now show him the same respect by allowing him to finish. Please continue, Johnathan.”

Elen watched as Jo looked over at Johnathan, and he nodded to the bartender.

“The ant problem is bad enough, but it looks like the person who attacked that camp moved through your home turf without your knowledge. Judging by the remains at the soldier’s home, these people have enough old-world firepower to kill everyone here if they wished. If they wanted to attack your village, there is nothing anyone here could do to stop them.”

Elen looked at Jo, and she returned her gaze with a hard look of her own. Everyone else in the room was silent, so Elen spoke up. It wasn’t easy—her stomach was in knots—but she wasn’t one to run and hide, even when she wanted to.

“Listen, when River wakes up, I plan on filling him in on all this. Then he and I will leave the village to track down this ‘living metal’ threat and stop them. And we will get Mya back. We won’t leave until we know Flint’s going to wake up though, so I have no clear time frame on when that happens. Anyone who wishes to volunteer is welcome; we’ll take all the help we can get. I don’t know what we’ll be walking into, but the sooner we handle this problem, the sooner we can guarantee the village’s safety.”

Elen tried not to let the silence that followed hurt her, but no matter how she tried, it still stung. Nodding, she continued, “I understand that is only one of two problems we must deal with. We still need to take care of the ants. Knowing River, he’ll want revenge, and being at his side is where I belong. So, who’s going to help with the ants? Any takers?”

Another long pause in the room caused her to worry. Had her village grown too weak to defend itself? Would she have to talk to her partner about moving the kids to another village in her absence?

With a hard sigh, she nodded her head. Turning to walk out of the bar to deal with what had to be done, Jo’s voice punctuated the quiet pall hanging over the room. Elen stopped and turned back around to look at Jo.

“Elen. You and River go do what you need to do. Murphy and I will deal with the ant problem.”

Looking up into Jo’s smiling face, Elen had to wonder if the surprise she felt showed. As guarded as she normally was, there were more important matters at play here—she cared little at the moment if people saw how she was feeling.

As Murphy sputtered, after being volunteered to handle that mess, a smile appeared on her lips.

Johnathan cleared his throat. He stood there with a fist covering his mouth, before dropping it and exposing a wide smile.

“Excuse me, Elen, but is there room in your party of two for one extra? I said I will help. I’d be remiss if I didn’t. You two helped me when I was down and out.”

Elen nodded. Smiling, her eyes threatened to spill over with tears of joy.

14

River

River took a deep breath to settle his nerves. Reaching out with his fist, he knocked on the healer’s door. A hollow sound greeted his ears, mirroring the lingering feeling within his chest. Waiting, he turned around to watch the rest of their small village. It was a slight comfort to see everyone going about their day. With the Maker coming soon, everyone had their own worries about the future. The creak of the door opening pulled his attention back to the present.

Standing in the open doorway was an old woman, shrewdly looking up at him with hooded eyes.

Despite her short stature, her presence felt far more imposing than anyone else he’d ever met. Dressed in a simple light-brown gown—disturbingly peppered by droplets of blood today—the healer wasn’t much of a sight to those who didn’t know her. In fact, most in the village saw her as a loving and giving woman. Given River’s history with her, he swallowed, just waiting for one of her well-known biting comments.

Her dark-brown eyes pinned him to the spot like an arrow.

“Yes, young man? Are you here for your son?” His mouth went dry. Instead of answering, he nodded in acknowledgment.

“Well? Don’t just stand there all day. You might let the sunshine in, and that might just make me smile. Can’t have that.”

He watched her frown at him just to prove her point, then scowled to reinforce the fact. As the healer stepped out of the way, he followed her in. The door closed behind him with a loud bang that had him jumping. The healer crossed her arms defiantly and cocked her head like she was waiting for something, leaving River speechless.

“You came to my home. Do you have something to ask? I don’t have all day. There are others who need my attention more than you right now.”

Despite her harsh tone, River was taken aback by the undercurrent of concern. Opening his mouth to say something, the healer just jerked her head to the left. River found himself confused. The old woman’s presence always threw him off. When he looked past her, he was relieved to find his son still lying in his bed, drawing breath. Elen and an old man were sitting next to his bedside.

He couldn’t find the words to thank her, so River reached out and gave her a hug. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn she leaned into it for a moment before pushing away from him with a disgusted sound.

“Get over there and see your son. He needs your love more than this old woman does. Careful, or I just might think you like me.”

Glancing down at the healer, he was unsure if he’d just missed her winking at him. Her motherly look eased some of the tension he’d been feeling on the walk over. Nodding, he bypassed her and settled down at the edge of the small single bed, where Flint sprawled out.

Looking at the swelling across his son’s face was hard, but from experience, he figured it would ease with time. Pulling back the thin, threadbare sheet, he looked at the newly wrapped bandages that covered his ribs. Turning to Elen and then the old man, he watched as the two shared a look.

Words tumbled out of his mouth as he inspected his son. “Is he going to be okay?”

A sharp comment, more in line with his experience with the healer, caused him to turn to the old woman who had snuck up on the small group.

“No. I think it’s terminal. There’s nothing I can do for him.”

River couldn’t believe what his ears were hearing. Letting out a shuddering breath, he found he couldn’t form a comprehensible reply. Panic set in.

The old woman pursed her lips and shook her head. The look on her face made him think she was about to roll her eyes at him, leaving him feeling dumbfounded.

“River, he’s exactly like you—terminally stubborn. If I hadn’t dosed him, he’d have clawed and crawled his way down the road to go after Mya.”

As stoic as River always tried to be, the poor attempt at humor, even if it was true, still hurt. Hot tears ran down his cheeks. The healer continued unabated.

“Given Flint’s wounds, and this old bastard’s comments…” River sat there, unsure how to react as he watched the healer throw a kick at the old man’s stool. The only reaction she seemed to get from the old man was a cheeky grin in return.

“Your son will heal. There’ll be a few scars, but that’s nothing to worry about. Your boy is lucky to have survived if what this old goat said is true.”

Looking back at the old man, River watched he smiled smugly at the healer’s comment. He suddenly realized where he’d seen the old man before. He was the one he’d helped in the bar last night. Several tense minutes passed as Elen and Johnathan filled him in, leaving his head spinning.

Once he’d had time to digest the information, he felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder. When he looked back, the healer’s comforting glance surprised him. While it only lasted a moment before her hard-bitten look fell back into place, it put him at ease.

“Okay, kids. My patient needs rest. If none of you can help, then you need to leave. Or I can oblige you, give you a reason to stay by breaking something of yours. Who’s first?” As everyone rose to leave, the old woman cleared her throat, which had everyone looking in her direction when she added, “Don’t bring your sorry butts back here for me to help. I’m so done with your little group getting hurt lately. It’s enough to make my heart hurt… or is that just a heart attack coming on? Who knows?”

There was a sharp bang as Elen opened the front door, and it hit the wall outside. River flinched and chased her out. Once outside, he struggled to keep up with her fast pace. He wasn’t sure if the healer was joking or not, and he had no interest in finding out. He heard her voice for only a moment before running out of earshot.

“Not you, Johnathan. You and I have things to discuss…”

15

Mya

“So, where are we going?”

Mya watched as Archon stopped to face her.

“I told you, my dear, we’re heading to my home. Is this still an agreeable situation for you?”

Feeling trapped by his penetrating look, she peered at one of the many living metal spiders that patiently waited all around them. Last night when she’d made the deal with him felt like it was years ago. The two of them had already gone further from her home than she’d ever been.

Biting her lip, she forced herself to look at Archon directly.

“I’m just worried, is all. Do you think Flint will be okay?”

Watching Archon smile made her skin crawl. It was an odd sensation, but she put it down to nerves.

“I’m sure nature has its ways to help those like your friend,” he said. “That’s what he is, right? Your ‘friend?’”

“Y-Yeah… Yeah, of course he is. We grew up together.”

“Interesting… My, how the world has changed.”

Mya scrunched up her face. It was one thing to hear him mumbling to himself at set intervals since last night as they began their journey from the ruins. This comment felt different, though. A part of her wanted to ask him a ton of questions, but she refused to. Pushing him for information wouldn’t be the most polite thing to do, and she didn’t wish to cause problems between the two of them. As scary as he’d looked in those first moments, he’d suddenly appeared down in the ruins. He’d been nothing but doting all night. Not an hour had gone by without him asking how she was doing.

His soft tone brought her out of her reverie.

“Do you have something on your mind you wish to share? You look like you’re thinking hard about something.”

Flinching, Mya blinked. “I’m sorry. I was just lost in thought. None of my thoughts are important… or at least that’s what everyone in the village says, short of Flint…”

Archon nodded. “I see. He’s special to you?” The question was silly, but there were no proper words to describe the depth of their friendship, so she just nodded. “Then I’m sure that if your friendship is meaningful, you will see him again. After all, isn’t that what dogs do? They always respect and wish to be with their master.”

She couldn’t prevent the horrified look that flashed across her face.

Her tone of voice mirrored the disgust she felt when she replied, “I’m no one’s master. Flint is just my friend. We’ve been friends since we were little. Why would you say such a horrible thing?”

Taken aback by her outburst, he said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. People used to keep dogs and other animals as pets in the old-world. They were like family members.”

Trying to picture what he’d just shared conjured images of Flint following her around her small one-room house. The image was so silly she couldn’t help but giggle. Watching Archon beam at the sound of her laughter made her smile grow. Feeling better, she nodded.

“Thanks. I needed that.”

“No, thank you…” Mya tilted her head with a confused look. Archon was quick to pick up on her reaction. “I don’t get to hear much laughter these days or giggling, for that matter. Normally I’m out here alone for long periods of time with my metal friends here.”

Unsure of what to say, Mya continued walking in the direction they had been heading for the last several hours. Finding her eyes drifting to one of the living metal spiders that kept pace alongside them on the path, she wondered how Archon could befriend them.

“Do they talk? How can you be friends?”

She felt a little silly when Archon furrowed his brow before shaking his head.

“No, they’re not intelligent in that way. They can do some basic tasks, like protecting you and I. They follow basic orders, but they are not truly friends. I… don’t have any friends.”

Something about his statement felt a little too honest, and there was clear pain behind the comment.

Frowning, Mya said the only thing she could think of.

“Well… do you want to be friends? I mean, you helped Flint. I owe you for that. Plus, this way you’ll never be alone now. You’ll always know you have me to count on.”

The look of surprise that washed over Archon turned his normally hard features into a gentle appearance that Mya thought she could easily get used to. As if the softness was but a dream, his features quickly re-hardened, but there was a newfound glint to his eyes that she appreciated.

Filled with emotion, he expressed his gratitude when he said, “Thank you. Most people do not treat me with the kindness you do.”

16

Johnathan

“Are you ready, old man? Elen told me you’re joining us.”

Johnathan opened his sleep-heavy eyes, only to squint immediately. The sun was punishing today, but it just felt so nice taking a nap in the shade. A wonderful experience. Holding up a hand to stop the pain in his eyes, he was relieved when a shadow fell across him. Looking up at his savior, River stood towering over him.

With a wry smile, Johnathan tried to put some feeling into his next statement.

“Care to help an old man off the ground?”

Reaching up, he couldn’t help but be impressed with River’s tight grip.

Between the two of them, Johnathan stood up faster than his body was used to. The aches and pains echoing throughout it were a testament to that fact. Rubbing his bony, painful, partially numb butt, he threw a harsh look in River’s direction as the man was turning away.

“What’s the rush, kid? It’s not like any of us are getting any younger, right?”

Johnathan couldn’t help but pull a sour face when River answered his question without turning around.

“We’ve waited too long already. We should have been on the move as soon as I could get out of bed. One of our villagers is missing, and it happened on my watch.”

Sighing, Johnathan reached out to place a comforting hand on River’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off. Keeping his own silent counsel, Johnathan thought to himself, Kid, you should really try to relax. All that stress is going to kill you. Or someone else. Been there, done that… I guess if someone had told me that at your age, I wouldn’t have listened either. Chuckling to himself, he tried not to notice the look River sent his direction, urging him to get moving.

Placing both hands against his lower back, he leaned back until a comforting but painful popping noise radiated throughout his spine. Feeling a little better, he reached down and grabbed the straps to the two backpacks he’d prepared for himself. Before he could fully stand, River’s hand lashed out and grabbed his wrist. Johnathan sighed without giving the man the respect to look at him.

He put a little steel in his voice as he asked, “What are you doing now, kid? As you can see, I’m just grabbing my packs, is all.”

Seeing his explanation didn’t dislodge River’s hand, he let both sets of straps fall before standing up. Looking at River’s wrist, he followed the man’s arm until their eyes met.

“I thought we agreed we needed to move light. Take only what you can carry. That means one backpack.”

Experience told him there were a few ways this confrontation could go, so Johnathan played into his favorite version. Plastering the cheesiest smile he could on his face and scratching the back of his head, he acted stupid.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Must be an old man’s mistake. You see, I thought we would need these extra supplies.”

By the look on River’s face, the man was less than appreciative of the statement. Johnathan could see Elen trying to cover up her mischievous smile out of the corner of his eye. Focusing on River once again, it was clear he had to defuse this situation quickly or things were going to go even further downhill.

“Look, I will make you a deal: if I slow you two down, you are free to leave me to my own devices. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d be alone out in the wilds… but I really think you’re going to need my help.”

River appeared mollified by the statement. When he finally let go, Johnathan reached down to grab the straps of his burden. It wasn’t lost on him that River didn’t wait for him as he told the guards to open the gate. Standing up with the packs, he waved to the gathered villagers, waiting to see him off.

Glancing up the hill to where the healer’s hut sat, he was uncomfortable seeing the door was still closed. Shrugging, he gave one last wave, then took off to catch up with River and Elen.

17

Johnathan

“Hold up! It’s hard to run with this much weight!”

Turning toward the shout, Johnathan smiled ear to ear. He felt a sense of relief bloom as he watched Flint struggle along, loping toward them. Despite holding one hand against his bandaged ribs, the kid seemed to be in good spirits. Johnathan thought to himself, Good to see you, kid. She told me you were not as beat up as you looked. I knew you’d pull through in time.

The kid stopped before him. Johnathan gave him a few moments to catch his pained breath before he said, “Took you long enough. Here. You know I’ve been carrying around these two backpacks all this time? How dare you treat an old man like this?”

The look of pain and sadness that washed across Flint’s face was terrible to see, so Johnathan tried to show him he was joking with a smile and a wink. Flint’s swift nod and a small smile spreading across his features helped put Johnathan at ease. He reached out, and Johnathan handed over the pack the village healer had prepared for Flint.

Hearing River call out from behind the two had the same effect as ice water being poured into Johnathan’s veins.

“Thanks for seeing us off, son. We all appreciate it, but you can go home now. We already said our goodbyes to you earlier.”

Seeing a ripple of tension move through Flint was unsurprising, even though Johnathan had to admit he felt the same way. Stepping to the side, he noticed Flint had a hard look clouding the kid’s eyes. Turning to River, the same look was evident in his.

Johnathan couldn’t help but reflect on an adult he’d grown up with who’d explained there were moments like this for every father and son. Looking between the two men, Johnathan saw memories of fathers and sons he’d known over the years repeating this process in their own ways. It was never easy to watch, because you couldn’t say anything, couldn’t intervene. You could only let it play out, for good or ill.

Flint’s hard voice brought Johnathan back to the current situation. “I appreciate that, but I was unconscious during those goodbyes. The healer told me you came by. You didn’t feel it was worth waking me for that? Now you try to tell me you said your goodbyes, after the fact?”

The pain in Flint’s voice made Johnathan’s heart feel like it was filled with lead. Something about this standoff felt different than usual; it was subtle, but it was there. He had seen this sort of thing happen between others, but this time felt slightly off. There was a hint of danger in the way Flint’s eyes were dilating, his fur rippling across his body.

“Look Flint, I appreciate your point of view. I understand where you’re coming from. But I’ve been in your position before—trust me on this, you need to go home now. We’re burning up the time we’ll need to track Mya down before something bad happens to her.”

River looked more annoyed than agitated—it was easy enough to read that—but when Johnathan turned back to Flint, that uneasy feeling continued to worm its way into his gut. There was tension etched in the kid’s every feature. He was clearly taking this far more seriously than his father was, and either his father wasn’t picking up on the threat of violence or he was pushing Flint on purpose.

“You have no idea what I’m going through right now. Mya is my problem, not yours, Dad.”

A glance in Elen’s direction told Johnathan all he needed to know. Fear etched her features as well. Eyes wide in alarm. Her hand was opening and closing rapidly, as if tempted to pull her weapon. It was clear she was picking up on things far beyond his own awareness.

River said, “Flint. It’s okay. You made a mistake going out at night. This isn’t entirely your fault, but as an adult, you need to know when to let others handle things.”

Johnathan took a moment to examine the situation from all angles. If this continued any further, it might turn vicious. Sucking his teeth, his eyes fell on River, then to Flint, and back again.

Watching Elen gave him an idea. In a moment of inspiration, Johnathan acted. Hand slapping his lower back, Johnathan stumbled forward between River and Flint. Bending forward as if in pain, he put his all into the act. Playing it up as if his life was on the line, he let a pained cry slip out.

“How can you understand what I’m going through?”

“Ah, my back! My poor back! Damn backpack… must have caused my disk to slip. Someone—help me before I fall!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Flint shift from being tense enough to assault his father to show obvious concern over his ‘injury.’ Turning his head away from Flint, Johnathan locked eyes with River and winked. He just hoped the man understood he was trying to help things.

But by the frustrated, angry look River gave him, it was clear he didn’t care to understand. At least Elen appeared to, though. He took some small comfort in that. Still, Flint’s concerned voice gave him hope that he’d snapped the boy out of his aggressive state.

“Are you okay, sir? Is there something I can do to help you?”

Hobbling around to face Flint, he tried to look as if his pain was nearing a crescendo. Giving the boy a weak smile, he felt a little less guilty upon seeing Flint respond with a small smile of his own.

“Kid. If you don’t mind, could you please carry one of my backpacks for a while? I know you’re hurt and all, but my back could really use a break.”

The weight of the pack disappeared as Flint reached over and picked it up. Slipping out of the straps, he tried to keep up his act of being hurt. It was hard, and left that guilty feeling growing inside, but his heart told him it was for a good reason. There was a puzzle here to figure out. Most adult wolves of Flint’s persuasion didn’t have outbursts like that, in Johnathan’s experience. He was left wondering what had happened just now.

The rest of the day continued in silence as River avoided Johnathan’s attempts to speak to him. Elen nodded her thanks to him later that day when River wasn’t looking. Flint became his personal caretaker. While it was wrong taking advantage of the kid, it had proven to be the best option by the time they stopped that afternoon to pitch camp.

18

Johnathan

Looking over his handiwork, Johnathan felt proud of the little campsite he had put together. It hadn’t been easy given the frosty situation between River and his son, but after all that had happened earlier, it had turned out better than expected. Pretending to be hurt added an extra level of difficulty and made the task take ten times longer than it should have, but he could still take pride in the job.

Flint had been running around with boundless energy and mostly getting in the way, but at least the kid meant well. It was likely the first time he’d had the option of sleeping out in the wild his entire life, and Johnathan had to remind himself many times that afternoon that anyone would’ve been excited for their first time.

With the campsite sitting high on a hill that butted up against a grove of large trees, it provided great shelter from the wind and runoff from any potential rainfall. Down the hill stood a placid lake that was so smooth it shone like a mirror, reflecting the few clouds that scuttled above. The peace was a rare event, and Johnathan drank it all in. Moments like this needed to be experienced and remembered whenever they could be.

A pile of sticks landed on the ground, shattering the serenity and causing Johnathan to jump.

Sighing to himself, he turned to the soon-to-be-built firepit with a strained smile. River’s frosty glare met his as they looked at each other. Nodding to the sullen man, he tried to force some levity into his words. “Why thank you, River! That is some good kindling. You sure know your bushcraft. Err, were you able to find anything larger?”

River’s terse nod said more than any words could have. Johnathan kept from sighing, if only just barely. To get things moving in a better direction, he jerked his head back toward the lake behind him. “If it’s okay with you two, I think I’m going to take the boy fishing. Has he ever been out this far before? Does he even like to fish?”

River’s surly look gave nothing helpful to work with, but Elen’s cheerful voice broke the tension.

“No, I don’t think Flint’s ever been fishing before. I bet he’d love it. Are you sure you’re okay with taking him out this late in the afternoon?”

Johnathan gave her a rueful smile. “Don’t worry about me. I may be old, but I’m a lot tougher than I look. With us out of the way, it will allow you two to get the fire going unimpeded. Give us a moment and we can bring something good back to eat. Anything you two would like in particular?”

Looking at Elen, it was clear she understood what Johnathan was trying to do. He hoped getting Flint away would give her time to talk to River and calm things down a little.

“I’m sure anything you bring back would be just lovely. Thank you for asking.”

With an exaggerated bow toward Elen, he swiftly turned on his heel.

Walking downhill with an easy but swift gait, he called over his shoulder, “I bet I can beat you to the lake, Flint!”

Johnathan smiled at the confused grunt and distinctive sound of a pack falling to the ground as he hobbled down to the lake, careful to show the great toll it took on his spine. It didn’t take long before Flint was striding alongside him, their quiet companionship helping ease the tension they’d been feeling moments before. Elen seemed like a kind woman. He hoped she could talk some sense into Flint’s father.

Stopping at the lake’s edge, he found himself impressed by its crystal-clear water. Turning to his junior companion, he smiled at the look on Flint’s face. The kid had eyes as large as plates. The unfamiliar sights captivated him.

“So, kid, what are you up for? A little fishing maybe?” Flint’s reaction of pure joy—flopping tongue and all—had Johnathan smiling again.

“Sure, sounds great. How do we fish around here?”

“Have you ever been fishing before? We don’t really have the gear for it, but there are other ways these days to fish.”

“Nope… Never been around any large bodies of water before.”

The exuberant way the boy shook his head answered any further questions Johnathan had. Patting him on the back, he showed him what to do—until he realized there was a problem.

He had been acting hurt all afternoon, and old, hurt men couldn’t fish. But the time wasn’t right to let the kid in on it.

“Okay, since I hurt myself earlier today, I’m going to give you instructions on how to fish. Is that okay with you?”

“Yup. I’m sorry you got hurt on account of me. Though you should’ve left the pack with the healer… she’d have given it to me before I left.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Johnathan looked away, trying to avoid the kid’s gaze.

Laughing nervously, he replied, “That’s kind of you to say, kid. Sorry… I guess when you get as old as me, you get certain ideas stuck in your head. Call it stubbornness, call it honesty… either way, I think I’m just too old to change. But think of all the time I’m saving by not changing.”

He winked at the boy, and the smile on Flint’s face made him feel better. The kid had clearly fallen for the excuse.

“Okay, so here’s what you do: wade out into the water up to your thighs. That should give you a good amount of water to stand in, but not so much to create a problem with what happens next.”

He turned toward the grassy hill next to the lake so he could look for a good place to sit down. Easing himself down, he turned to find Flint. The kid had waded in and was in the perfect position, with water flowing a tad higher than his thighs.

“Okay, here’s what you do next, kid… Are you right-handed or left-handed?” Flint raised his right hand with a questioning look.

“I’m right-handed.” Nodding, Johnathan continued.

“Okay, good. Use that hand. Put it just below the top of the water. Yes, like that. Now drift it back and forth in a slow circle, like this…” Holding up his hand, Johnathan made a slow, circular movement for Flint to follow. “Now do that, and don’t stop till I tell you, okay?”

Leaning back into the cool grass, he closed his eyes for a moment as he listened to Flint’s gentle movements. Sleep almost had its hands on him when Flint’s voice pulled him out of its grip.

“Sorry sir, but how long do you want me to keep at this?”

Pushing himself up on his elbows, Johnathan frowned at Flint.

“First rule to fishing: there is no ‘siring’ around here. I’m Johnathan to you. Okay, kid?” Ears drooping, and shoulders slumped, Flint nodded, so Johnathan pushed ahead before the kid could let that feeling sink in. “If you speak while fishing, you’ll scare away the fish. Since we want to catch some, that would defeat the purpose of this exercise, right?”

When Flint shrugged, Johnathan continued. “Since I’m not fishing, and I’m sure you have a great sense of hearing… how about this? When you talk, you send vibrations through the water. We want the fish to focus on your hand. So… if you wish to keep fishing, I will quietly tell you a story, and you will stay silent and listen. Does that work?”

Flint’s eyes went wide with the idea; the kid clearly enjoyed the thought. Johnathan wondered what he’d tell the kid about. Guessing the truth wouldn’t hurt, he tried to formulate how to put it in terms the kid would understand.

“Now, before I start this story, I need to be honest… I’m old, and my memory is not what it used to be. You see, us old men tell some pretty tall tales…” Seeing the glint in Flint’s eyes only widened his smile. It spurred Johnathan to continue. “I think I’m going to tell you a story I told my daughter years ago. It’s the story about how our world came to be. Does that sound okay to you?”

The smile on Flint’s face was enough to have Johnathan continue. “Well, you see, there was once a time when a giant spider sat upon the world.”

Flint interrupted with: “What is a ‘world?’”

Nodding, Johnathan sighed, but pushed forward.

“Remember not to scare the fish. Okay, so a world is a large piece of rock floating in the sky. We are sitting on one at this very moment.”

Watching Flint look around brought back wonderful but painful memories of his child Anna doing much the same thing when he had told her this story.

“Kind of like the moon you see hanging in the sky at night? Our world is like that. But we’re just too small to see it. In our world, we had a spider sitting on top of it. It spun a world wide web that covered everything. Unlike the spiders of today, the web didn’t trap people… well, not the way you’d think a spider would. The web was more to share information. The spider loved to tell stories, so she’d send stories through her web to different places all across the great lands of the world.”

Scratching his chin, Johnathan pondered how to continue as he watched the wonder in Flint’s eyes grow. “Many, many years ago, someone had the spider share the secret letters and numbers to make a plague. No one really knows who did it, but it infected the world. You see, when you got sick, the plague would take a little from you, and add to you a little of the last creature or plant it had lived in.”

Pausing for effect, Johnathan waited while Flint pondered what he had just said. When the time was right, he continued.

“Now there were two large animals, the largest two animals in all the world. There was an eagle who lived in a nest in our lands. There was also a gigantic bear that lived in the mountains far from here, across the seas to the east. Now, this bear became angry because it got sick, and those whom it watched over died in droves. It got so mad that it yelled at the Eagle to stop making its people sick. What the bear didn’t know or wish to understand was that the eagle and its people, like all people all over the world, were sick or falling ill. This caused the eagle and bear to go back and forth shouting angry words. Eventually, words were not enough for the bear. He felt it had no other choice but to attack. Now think of this image: this massive, angry bear threw spears full of fire at the eagle. Can you imagine how that eagle might have felt?”

Watching Flint shake his head made Johnathan shiver; his little girl had done the same all those years ago.

“Well, the eagle had to protect what few people it had left. It could do nothing but retaliate and threw its own fire spears back at the bear. But what the bear didn’t know was that the eagle had help from above.”

To illustrate his point, Johnathan pointed up at the sky.

“This is where I told my daughter that the Sky People had amazing tools. The truth of it is, they had horrible weapons that they kept in the sky with them. The eagle called to the Sky People for help, and that is when beams of sun fell from the skies. Everything those beams touched burned up. The ground boiled, and the seas disappeared wherever the beams hit our world. The Sky People used this horrible weapon to knock as many of the sun spears heading toward the eagle out of the air as possible, fearing the devastation left behind if they hit.

Talking a sullen moment to reflect upon the truth, he let the grim nature of the true events he had heard about so long ago sift through his memories. Seeing the images as a child had scarred him, but the strength of history involved making sure no one forgot. Hopefully, no one would ever repeat the mistakes humanity had previously made.

“You think your village is magnificent in splendor, but there were villages many times larger in the past called cities that disappeared in an instant. What the disease didn’t kill or change, the weapons of man finished. All because people were angry and scared. Our lands suffered damage beyond anything humanity had ever known. It’s also what gave nature its boost. With so few humans left to harm it, nature used the strengths the plague had given it and fought back. Now it’s said that the world is far different from what it once was…”

Looking up from his callused hands, he gave Flint a sad smile. It was easy to see the story had enraptured the boy. His mouth was either open in shock or surprise. Johnathan wasn’t sure—both seemed appropriate. The kid’s hand sat below the surface of the water, unmoving.

There was a flash of color in the water and Johnathan knew the kid was no longer alone, even though Flint wasn’t aware of it.

“Careful, kid. You’re fishing. You need to watch yourself.”

Watching his ears perk up helped Johnathan’s dour mood. A small chuckle escaped his lips as the dark shadow in the water moved toward Flint’s hand.

“What are you laughing a—”

As Flint spoke, a long, slimy fish jumped out of the water. In a riot of splashing water, he disappeared. Johnathan roared with laughter.

Several moments passed as the ripples in the water where Flint had been standing died down. Waiting, Johnathan was about ready to give the kid a hand when Flint exploded out of the water. Shaking his entire body, droplets flew everywhere. Johnathan couldn’t help but laugh as all dark thoughts disappeared in this moment of hilarity.

Flint was drenched, and he had gained a new friend in the altercation. Laughing too hard to speak, Johnathan could only point at Flint’s left arm. When he looked at his hand, there was horror written across the kid’s face—the fish had swallowed his arm up to the shoulder, and Johnathan’s laughter spilled out hard enough to make his sides hurt. Holding his ribs, he rolled around on the ground like a madman.

When he calmed down, he watched as the arm-sized fish came sailing in his general direction. Flint was huffing and puffing, but clearly happy with his catch.

“You see, kid? It’s a dog-eat-dog… er, should I say a fish-eat-dog world?”

Flint just smiled, his tongue flopping out the side of his mouth, and Johnathan lost the fight over a second bout of laughter.

In a cheery voice, Flint asked, “You said you used to tell that story to your daughter, right? Can I ever meet her? I’d be interested to see her sometime.”

Memories of his daughter’s and wife’s faces flashed through Johnathan’s mind. A sickeningly sweet smell of cooking flesh assaulted him, and past sensations of heat and flames killed the humor he’d been feeling. The memory of when he’d put them to rest was something he always tried to keep locked away, but this moment of reverie had clearly left him vulnerable to it.

With a frown, he pushed himself up off the ground. Flint looked confused, but Johnathan didn’t care about putting on appearances for the kid at this moment.

In a deadpan tone, Johnathan made his feelings known. “I’m sorry, that won’t be possible. She’s dead.” Turning his back on Flint, he told himself it wasn’t the kid’s fault for causing those memories to come back. Still, it was hard not to hate the boy for bringing up his past like that.

Johnathan swore he heard an apology from Flint, but the memories of the past were so deeply rooted in his mind at that moment he couldn’t pay any attention to what the kid said.

Walking up the hill toward the camp, he threw a comment at him over his shoulder. “Don’t come back until you find two more roughly that size. I’ll meet you at camp.”

19

Elen

To any common observer, River’s stoic features would’ve made it look like he was doing alright. But Elen saw the tightness around his eyes, the way a vein throbbed in his neck. Reaching out a hand, she tenderly grabbed his wrist. With over seventeen years of friendship, she knew his tells well. For the first time, she was at a loss for how to start the conversation she knew needed to happen.

It was disturbing to have him look down at her. What made it more difficult was that he wasn’t looking at her, but more through her. When he pulled his arm away from her grip, her hand fell to her side.

Long moments stretched out as River worked to start a fire. She tried to come up with an idea of how to begin. But she knew if she pressed too hard, he’d just retreat into himself like he had when Flint’s mother had died. Yet, if she didn’t get through to him, that would just cause problems later.

Out here in the wilds, we didn’t need problems. They distracted you, and distractions led to mistakes.

Resting her muzzle in her hand as she watched River, Elen tried to be brave. As much as she liked to act tough, she questioned herself constantly, just as she was doing now.

“River, we need to talk about what happened earlier…” He blew on a small pile of wood chips to start the tinder. It was the only response she was likely to get, so she pushed ahead before nerves prevented her. “You have a blind spot with Flint. You’ve always treated him as if he were a kid—”

River’s harsh voice cut her off.

“He is a kid! I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of it, just like that old man should have. As old as that man is, he should know better.”

Elen pursed her lips a moment before biting them. He was going to be tough today. That much was clear in his tone, not to mention he was always extra defensive over his son.

“You’re right, we shouldn’t be getting in between you and Flint. I’m also sure you’re not fully aware of what happened, are you?”

River reacted unexpectedly, startling her.

Bringing his face close to hers, he stated in a deadpan voice, “I understand my son and I had a disagreement that everyone, including you, seems to think you have some part in. You are my oldest friend, so I’d appreciate it if you’d back off.”

The look in his eyes said more than his words. Swallowing, Elen tried to think of Flint as she continued to express herself.

“Flint was about to attack you if things continued the way they were going. Everyone could see it. I was there. Did you not notice?”

“My son would never attack me. He just felt like I was dismissing his efforts after coming all that way. We’ve had arguments before and I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Elen locked eyes with River aggressively for a long moment before he looked away, but not before she caught shame clouding his eyes.

“Look, I’m not here to question your ability to parent. Your son is a grown man and has been for a while now. It’s time you saw that. What Johnathan and I found when we searched the ruins those kids went into… Something down there affected your son, and I’m not sure we truly understand what he’s going through right now.”

“You’re wrong. Flint is his normal, unflappable self. He must be…”

It hurt her to see River in so much pain, and when the dam broke and the tears fell, she gave him a few moments to let it out. Walking over, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and waited.

When the tears slowed, she met his red-rimmed eyes with a comforting smile.

“It’s perfectly okay to be scared for your son. It shows you’re a good parent. But he’s grown up. You need to allow him to struggle more, and figure out how to be there for him in new ways.”

River nodded, and Elen pulled his shoulder toward her. Resting his forehead on her chest, she brought her arm around the back of his head and tried to comfort him for a time. Once his breathing slowed and was less ragged, she released him from her embrace.

Together, the two of them found a spot to sit and watch the fire. The sound of splashing water registered in her ears. She looked at River and saw how intently he focused on the fire.

“No one ever said being a parent was easy. I know you didn’t ask to take on that burden, but you’re a better man for it.”

“I know… but he is my son.”

As the silence between the two of them stretched on, she wondered if he had heard her. When he glanced over at her and nodded, she felt a little better. Maybe all the things she’d shared had gotten through to him.

The sound of a snapping branch caused her head to whip around. Johnathan walked through their small camp. He looked stricken, a shell of the man who had just left them an hour before. Unsure what to say, she watched as the old man walked past the two of them and wrapped himself in his bedroll, with his back to the fire.

Looking at River, she just shook his head, and the two of them turned back at the fire as they waited for Flint.

20

Archon

Archon scanned the meager campsite they’d use for the night. With nothing of concern left to attend to, he knew it was time to work. Mentally triggering his implant, he closed his eyes to better handle the next steps. The cold sensation running down his back was nothing new to him, but this time there was something different that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Sounds from the surrounding area merged, then faded into the background.. Before he could take in the next breath, the world fell away.

The sensation of falling through a void rushed in, encapsulating the mental landscape he found himself in. Ones and zeros flashed across his vision, startlingly bright against the all-encompassing blackness that held him in its grasp. Time crawled along at a snail’s pace as he waited for the implant to connect to the satellites above. Fear crept in, so unlike any previous time. Bright white letters scrolled across the darkness.

Connection acknowledged.

Login by Subject: 42. It is nice to see you check in.

Reflexively, Archon tensed his jaw, unsure if the nerve signals were even registering. Not for the first time did he wonder if the name he had given himself would ever acknowledge him. Was he always going to be seen as a test subject in the grand scheme of things? His training kicked in before he could go further into that thought process. He didn’t want them to pick up on those feelings.

“I’m reporting in, Control. Signal seems slow. Is there something wrong on your end?”

This is Control. Subject: 42, you should not worry. All things skyward appear to be green-lit. Signal disruption could result from recent experiments.

“What experiments? Why wasn’t I told about this? Am I within the projected area for this experiment?”

Not important. Report…

Archon mentally forced himself to calm down. There had been many times he wanted to yell at Control in frustration, but that was how you ended up getting your position changed in the group…… and not in a good way.

Finding the ability to focus, he prepared his statement mentally before he said, “All appears clear. I haven’t noticed any signs I’m being followed. Currently, I’m bringing in a test subject due to all the specimen containers being filled. The subject I have with me appears to be mentally intact. No physical signs of genetic damage in any meaningful way. I also have an issue: two of the sentry bots seem to be breaking down. I haven’t run diagnostics yet, as I’m not in a safe zone.”

Subject: 42, are you purposefully trying to mislead us or… are you not aware?

Surprise left Archon with a chill far deeper than the implant ever imparted within him. Thinking back over the last month, he had seen no sign of anyone or anything following him. Even the two subjects he had brought with him for a short time after the culling were in no shape to follow him once he was done with them. Death didn’t allow one to follow the living.

“I’m not aware of anyone tracking my position. Can you please expand upon your statement?”

Blooming before his eyes, he watched as a pixelated image of a top-down map slowly rendered in precise detail. It was rare for Control to provide him with imagery like this, and he feared the headache that would linger after this assault on his mind.

The tops of trees came into focus, and a campsite resolved within the image. A small fire was burning away next to several beings sitting close for warmth. As more detail resolved, the still image revealed the edge of what could have only been the lake he had recently passed… perhaps a day or two ago? He wasn’t sure.

The lake wasn’t the important part—it was the being walking out of the water that grabbed his full attention. Squinting, the image magnified the area for him. Gray and green pixels soon gave way to an image that had his anger growing. It wasn’t often that something he’d put down had the stupidity to continue living.

“Control. How long ago was this image taken?”

Processing… 19:04. Marked ten minutes ago.

“This could be a problem. I euthanized that wolf already, but it appears he didn’t get the message. The others I do not know, but suspect are its accomplices. They could be a problem.”

Explain.

Archon mentally clenched his jaw, buying time to figure out how to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t shorten his life expectancy.

“I found the wolf in the same ruin as the current female subject who’s with me now. I’d thought it would die of its wounds. It clearly lived and I need to correct that. It was an oversight; I won’t make that mistake again.”

Acknowledged. Continued interference in your work is not allowed. Running statistical analytics to see projected outcome given current situation…

The world went black, but Archon was not wholly worried. This had happened a few times before, as Control worked something out for him. All he had to do was wait, and he’d be rewarded with the information he needed. He was sure of it. Waiting in the black silence kept him on edge until Control returned.

Statistical outcome: at your current ability level, you won’t be able to outrun your pursuers.

“Okay…” Archon knew he had to be careful with what he said next. “How do you wish for me to proceed?”

Sentry A-29 has hydraulic leakage that will slow you down by 69% if left in its current state. As your potential to repair it is unattainable, transfer samples to another platform. Sentry C-213 has other logistical issues that will slow your speed by 33%.

“I understand. I’ll use my resources for the best outcome.”

You will not have the necessary firepower given the problems with Sentry A-29 and Sentry C-213. Take what remains of the roadway around the city, for safety purposes.

“Control, are you sure? That will add time to our expedition. Up to two or three more days of travel on an already overextended journey.”

Subject: 42… statistically, this is the optimal algorithm for your success.

Archon felt the statement flow out of him and into the implant in the back of his neck.

“I’m just concerned about having the genetic samples go bad before I can arrive home. Please advise?”

Subject: 42, we will meet you at your intended destination. Do not deviate from the path directed. Bring the new test subject with you. Does the new test subject have a designation?

Without thinking, Archon replied. “Her name… I mean, her designation is Mya.”

Subject: 42, bring Subject: Mya in with you. Calculated estimates indicate you have sufficient rations to rendezvous successfully at the collection point. Please acknowledge.

“Acknowledged, Control. I will bring in Subject Mya.”

One moment Archon was drifting in the void and the next he was in darkness. The tension in his muscles was the first sign he was back in his body.

He relished the feel of the wind against his skin. Pain throbbed behind his eyes as his brain struggled to deal with the pressure that had built up during the connection. While the hammer blows that racked his head were distracting, he forced himself to contemplate what he had just experienced.

Nothing made sense to him. Nothing fit the patterns he had gotten used to during the past decade or more.

Opening his eyes, the world felt overly bright as he struggled to adjust to the night. Letting his eyes drift of their own accord, he found they landed on Mya’s sleeping form. She had wrapped herself up in a blanket earlier that night and now lay sleeping on the ground less than a meter away. He wondered for the first time since he’d left the compound what he had gotten himself into on this trip.

21

Flint

The thin blanket refused to go back into the backpack, and it was making Flint angry. With the tan material spilling out everywhere, it felt to him like a visual representation of his current feelings.

As he worked through his memories from yesterday and this morning, the healer’s words rang in his ears.

I know you’re going to go after Mya. Go with my blessing. You bring her and yourself back safely. My kids deserve to live here in peace. Don’t let anything stop you, Flint. I know you can do this.

It’d been a good feeling to have her so worried about the two of them. Then things fell apart. Taking the backpack Johnathan had waiting for him, he’d been confused when it became clear his father had left the healer’s hut over an hour earlier. Fighting through the pain, he’d caught up to his father and was so angry at him. The memories of what they said were still a blur that was more feeling than memory. All that came to mind was rage and the desire to protect himself. What was worse was that it was completely freeing.

To compound his problems, he’d accidentally hurt the old man who’d just been trying to tell him a story while teaching him how to fish. Having played the events as they transpired over and over in his head all night, he was no closer to understanding what he had done wrong. Was he only capable of hurting those he tried to help? First Mya, then his father, then the old man… who was going to be next?

So lost he was in his thoughts, he barely felt the firm hand that landed on his shoulder. Only when it squeezed did he acknowledge it was there. It was the last person he expected to see at that moment, but he begrudgingly met his father’s eyes.

“Hey son. I see you’re having a problem there. Want some hel—

His shoulders slumped, Flint dropped the backpack on the ground and stepped back. In a shallow, hollowed-out voice, he interrupted River as he tied the backpack closed.

“You’re right…” The confused look his father gave him almost caused his tears to break through to the surface. He pressed on, even though he knew his voice was taking on the sadness he felt deep within his core. “You’re right. I need to go home. All I do is hurt everyone around me… I’m putting all of you at risk.”

Feeling his father’s powerful arms wrapped around his chest in a hug caused him to instinctively step back, but River prevented it. Flint’s head dropped forward, and he rested his chin against the back of River’s shoulder. The stronger the feeling of depression grew, the hotter something burned within his chest. He tried to ignore the natural reactions that were coming to the surface, but his lips pulled back from his teeth, his hands tightening into rigid claw positions.

“Son. I was wrong. You are doing the right thing. I just wasn’t strong enough to see that you’ve grown up. You have every right to fight to get Mya back, same as anyone else. What you’ve done so far has been nothing but selfless, and just shows me what type of man you’ve become.”

Flint struggled to remain in control, to take in these simple words imbued with complex emotions. Recognizing them for what they were, he felt like a balm had been put on an open wound he didn’t know he had.

Forcing his muscles to relax, he leaned into the hug and barked out a single cry. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elen glance in their direction, but for the first time in his life, he didn’t care what she or anyone else thought. The smile that creased her muzzle before glancing away just reaffirmed his view. His family needed him here.

After breaking away from the hug, the morning passed quickly. The campers quickly and efficiently packed up the camp, and Johnathan discovered the trail they were following by noting the square marks indented into the ground, which clearly pointed to where Mya was taken. Things looked up, at least until the small group ran into another obstacle Flint had never seen before.

The trail of square holes the living metal had left behind led up a wide path of smooth black rock. Big lumps of metal sat in rusted heaps, scattered across the path like a forgotten giant’s toys. They had been sitting there for ages, given the plant life had taken root wherever there was space.

Johnathan’s low whistle drew everyone’s attention to him.

“Well… look at that. The little buggers are using the old highway to travel faster. Smart little things, aren’t they?”

Flint turned to River, who responded to the old man.

“Is this going to be a problem? Can you still track them? I know we’ve been following these living metal things easily enough through nature, but I’m not sure how we can continue to do so on this stuff.”

Lowering himself into a crouch, Flint touched the black path to get an idea of how hard the surface was. To his utter disbelief, the surface was pebbled with small stones that felt warm to the touch, as if it had sucked up the heat of the day.

“That depends on our little group over there,” Johnathan said. Looking at the lumps of metal, Flint could just barely make out the deflated rubber those lumps might have once sat upon. “I’m the wrong person to ask that of, though,” Johnathan continued. “I will do my best to track where they’re going, but I’m going to need help. So how about it, Flint? You up for it, son?”

Hearing his name, his eyes met Johnathan’s gaze.

“Kid… I know we had a dust-up last night. Look, now is not the time to explain things. Just know I’m sorry for what happened… you did nothing wrong.”

“The way your father and I track only works on softer ground. While I’m sure with enough time, we could find signs on this highway, there is maybe one—possibly two of us here—who can track them in other ways. Do you think you’re up for it, son?”

Looking to his father for support, he found River’s hard smile and nod a small comfort to his conflicted feelings. If he said yes, he might run the risk of hurting the old man again—but that might also mean losing Mya.

Feeling there was little choice, he shrugged.

“What am I to look for if I’m trying to track this living metal?” A strange, wordless gesture followed Johnathan’s cheeky smile and headshake. Flint frowned. “I don’t understand… Why are you pointing at your nose?” Looking for support from his father and Elen only left him reeling, as the two smiled in response. Johnathan appeared to be waiting for him to figure it out.

So Flint did the only thing he felt he could do and shrugged.

“Okay, I’m game. What is it you want me to do?”

“Just close your eyes, kid.”

Unsure but willing to try, Flint closed his eyes and waited.

Johnathan said, “I’m sure you have picked up on things all your life that smelled strong and you just took it for granted. Now is the time to make that work for you.”

Taking long, even breaths, the smell of nature, fresh wind, and rusting metal entered his mind. Keeping his eyes closed, he turned toward the old man and asked, “So, what now? I’m smelling all sorts of things. How’s this supposed to help?”

His father’s quiet laugh made him frown. He found this funny, even though Flint thought it was no laughing matter. It came as a shock to hear his father’s supportive voice.

“Flint. You can do this. Johnathan is right about this one. Listen to him. I get the feeling he knows what he’s doing.”

Turning in the old man’s direction with eyes closed, Flint found that Johnathan’s smell was coming from a few steps to the left of where he had been a moment ago. He followed his nose, then opened his eyes.

Johnathan beamed. “Okay, kid. You found me. Now, exactly how did you find me?”

“I smelled where you were. Oh, right… that’s how I always won at hide-and-seek as a kid! It was always so easy to find people.”

Elen’s slightly disgusted chuckle drew Flint’s attention.

“That explains a lot. You cheeky bastard.”

Flint’s smile creased his features instead of hiding it. Now that he thought about it, his sense of smell had been a long-held but proud secret of his.

“It’s like you said, kid…” Turning toward Johnathan’s voice, he took in the rest of what the old man said. “You track people by scent already. That’s instinct. You’re just not tracking the correct scents right now.”

Cocking his head, he tried to puzzle out what the old man meant. “Are you saying I should try to smell, Mya?”

Instead of answering, Johnathan fished a hand axe from his pack. Glancing at his father and Elen, he felt reassured the old man wasn’t about to attack him. Turning back to Johnathan, he watched the hand axe fall sharply against the front half of the lumpen metal before them. Several sharp swings caved in the exterior, exposing the mess of grimy, rusted, forged metal inside, to Flint’s shock and dismay.

Exposed to the air, the scent of unnatural chemicals and oil washed across his senses. Holding a hand against his nose, he took a few steps back from the emanations. Turning from the metal wreck to the old man with a look of abject horror.

“You smell what’s in there, Flint? That’s what living metal smells like. Well, sort of…”

Looking from the old man to his father and back again, Flint found the two men nodding in his direction.

“Okay, so let me get this straight: you want me to follow whatever smells like that? I’m going to be following… what? Rusty metal? Dirty oil? Grime and rust?”

Johnathan scratched his chin. “In a word? Yes. Right now, I’m sure you want to retch from the smell the moment I broke that sucker open. Trust me, tracking such a scent from afar won’t be so bad. Let’s get downwind and see what you might be able to do for us. For now, these machines short of the one I just broke open shouldn’t smell too overwhelming, but remember, the ones we are tracking are moving, and that means they are most likely leaking.”

Looking at everyone, Flint reluctantly followed everyone down the black-rock path. Moving as a group, they passed countless slabs of old rusted metal.

22

Johnathan

“So… tell me the truth. What are these rusting hulks?”

Johnathan took a deep breath, trying to stuff his feelings back down the emotional hole he kept them in. The earnest tone of Flint’s voice echoed the inflection his daughter once had.

Blinking back his tears, he looked into Flint’s questioning eyes. Breaking eye contact with the kid, he found everyone in their small group was looking in his general direction. With a shrug, he fell into the natural instructor role he’d assumed throughout his life many times over.

“Well… you see… these here things used to be called vehicles. Mostly ‘trucks’ or ‘cars,’ from what I remember being told.” It felt good to see everyone nodding and hanging on his every word, so he continued. “These things died over the years with no one to protect them from the weather or keep them in working condition. Some took to calling these things ‘living metal,’ like you folks do, or ‘machines’. Some even called them ‘automatons’. But that was a long time ago…”

To enhance his words as they walked along, he made a fist and hit along the side of a rusted hulk sitting on its long-since-eroded tires. A metallic, hollow echo came from within, riveting the small group’s attention to the massive mound of rust.

“Why did you open one of those rusted hulks earlier? All so my son could get a smell of what’s inside them? What good does that do?”

Johnathan smiled; River had finally asked a good question. Scratching his chin, he dragged out the time to allow his next statement to hold more weight.

“Good question, River. Well, I figure given how old Flint is, it’s a good sign he’s here with us.”

Reaching out to slap Flint’s shoulder good-naturedly, the look of confusion on River’s face wasn’t lost on him. To put him at ease, Johnathan grinned before continuing.

“If Flint is here with us, he’s passed the tests his tribe has put him through. That means he’s dependable. And who else would we want tracking down some living metal machines than a person such as him? People like Flint can track by smell for miles when they have their blood pumping. I’m just surprised he had to have this truth pointed out to him.”

River glanced at Elen, concern lighting his features. Johnathan turned to Flint for support. The kid shrugged, and a small seed of concern lodged itself in Johnathan’s guts.

Why is everyone acting like this? They should have blooded Flint early on in his teens. If he had failed, he’d be running the forests wild. Why act all dodgy?

Pushing ahead, he tried to turn their focus back to what he’d been saying.

“Get on with it, you two. We can’t stand around all day.”

“We’re tracking living metal, and these hulks are made of the same chemicals and metals they work off. That’s why I opened the vehicle back there, to give Flint a good indication of what he should look for scent wise. Back in the old world, you couldn’t throw a stick and not hit some form of machine.”

Finding a stoic look on River’s face did nothing to wither the seed of concern growing in his gut, but a smile and nod from Flint helped. As the kid sniffed the air, Johnathan noted the other two had moved off to talk quietly between themselves. Something was wrong, and things needed to be settled, but that was for a later time.

Secrets got people hurt or killed, and he was too old for such garbage.

23

Flint

Moving his head in a small arc, Flint let the smells wash over him. He shook off the memory of what had happened when he was underground in the ruins and focused. On his next deep breath, it felt like the entire world opened to him in an entirely new way. Mind whirling with new sensations, his connection to the world slowly grew in his mind. It wasn’t created by imagery but the smell of things. A deep-seated part of him came alive.

To his left, he could smell the stink of Johnathan. He had an earthy smell to his scent, mixed with an aged tinge that reminded him of the ruins he’d explored with Mya. On his right, there were scents of animal skins forming fresh-stitched clothing, slowly dissipating, mixed with the smell of his father’s scent and the familiar stink of Elen. Flint realized he knew these smells intimately without ever having thought about it, and he found comfort in that.

Focusing on the scent of the rusty metal and chemicals he’d gotten a taste of earlier, his mind wandered. Each time he picked up a new scent, his nose twitched and would gently turn his head toward the aroma. The entire experience was incredibly relaxing, and in his current state, he almost felt at peace.

Something familiar was at the edge of his perception. Walking forward a few steps, the wind changed direction, ruffling his fur.

With his eyes pressed close, he tried to focus on that vague hint of a smell mixed with something familiar. It felt so close, like he could almost grab onto it with his hands.

Using his ears as a wind vane to test the wind, he turned toward the gentle breeze. The smell of old metal and chemicals became stronger as the wind picked up. It was still mixed with a familiar smell that tickled his mind. Old memories of his childhood—of his father wielding his rifle—came back to him, which left him confused as to why that would be.

His eyes flew open as gunshots sounded. He flinched hard enough to take a step back, then ducked. Everyone else did the same.

Ears flattened, he struggled to understand who was firing at them. From the depths of the forest, on either side of the black path, two guns fired continuously, something no rifle could ever have done. His searching eyes were drawn to movement along the path, however, it fled from view before he could determine what it was.

Before his unbelieving eyes, a string of holes stitched their way into the road toward his position. Unsure what was happening, he found his legs unable to move. Nothing felt real as he watched the gunfire close in. No man could fire that fast, yet the bullets doggedly angled their way toward him.

A hand with a grip as tough as steel closed painfully around his wrist and broke him free of his mental fog. Tugged to the left, he added the extra boost he needed to dive behind one of the rusted heaps. Without time to get his bearings, Johnathan struggled to pull Flint back farther around the rusted hulk as the bullets impacted against the far side of their meager cover.

He could sense the bullets sawing their way back and forth against the rusted pile of scrap. It wouldn’t be long before they punched through. A sharp slap brought his eyes up and he glared at Johnathan. The old man appeared to be trying to say something over the gunfire, but it was hard for Flint to hear. He couldn’t make it out. Johnathan wove a complex pattern with his hands, trying to express something. He was clearly trying to get something across, but Flint had no clue what it was.

The gunfire died off and the rust pile stopped shuddering. Tears streamed down his face from the pain lancing through his head, but he forced himself to focus. Looking around his hiding spot, he didn’t find his father or Elen, and his stomach dropped.

Images of River and Elen bleeding out on the ground flashed through his mind, shutting out the wild gesturing of the old man.

His chest rumbled, and his body went cold. Eyes narrowing, he felt something snap inside.

Half running and half clawing his way across the edge of the black path, he launched himself toward where the gunfire had been coming from. The farther he got from the old man, the more he smelled the chemical stench of spent gunpowder. With each step, his heart pounded harder. Anger replaced fear, and the feeling of pure rage washed away that anger.

The sound of renewed gunfire broke the momentary silence. The rusted debris surrounding him shook with the impact of bullets. He vaulted through the gaps of wreckage and swore he felt the fiery touch of bullets whipping through his fur. That wouldn’t stop him, though—he felt like nothing could. The closer he got, the louder the gunfire became until it was like his heart was thudding in tandem with each explosive shot.

As the bullets impacted around him, his eyes picked up on the muzzle flash of someone firing from within the trees. He closed in on his prey with a need he had never known before. The closer he got to his target, the more he craved the taste of copper. All his nose picked up was more of that rusty chemical smell mixed with cordite, and it only fed his rage.

In a full sprint, he flew through the trees. If he’d judged correctly, he’d soon come up on the left-hand side of the enemy. Barely feeling the tree branches snapping against him, he focused on his prey.

Whipping an arm out, he grabbed hold of a tree. Using his momentum, he launched himself into the air in an arc, right into his target, crashing through the remaining branches that separated him from his prey.

Despite all the stories the old men had told in the village, he was unprepared for what awaited him. A rusted metal spider with a gun mounted under its belly fired away through the trees at an unknown target. Flint’s jump brought him right next to one of the metal spider’s legs. Crashing to a halt, he cocked his head in confusion, but he had no time to think—he just reacted. His instincts told him to rip out his attacker’s throat, but his eyes couldn’t find anything to sink his teeth into.

The spider opened fire once more, and at close range, the sound was deafening. Staggering back with his hands covering his ears in pain, he watched in horror as it released another burst of bullets downrange. Looking in the direction the spider was firing, he saw Elen’s small form dashing between two rusted hulks as another attacker fired across from his position.

Flint struggled to think. Everything felt like it was moving through a thick fog. His mind was so focused on killing he struggled to process anything else. Wrestling some minor control over himself, he looked at the metal spider and then at the second attacker. Lowering himself down onto his knees, he leaned forward to place his shoulder under one of the spider’s legs, then heaved.

He cried out in pain as the stitches in his sides threatened to pop. Centimeter by centimeter, his shoulder lifted the spider off the ground.

Finally noticing him, the metal spider fought him as it continued to fire. His left hip became uncomfortably wet and warm, but he refused to give up. Using the spider’s attempt to right itself to his advantage, he pushed hard, throwing the metal spider off-balance. The gunfire wavered a bit as the spider fought to control its aim.

Flint took that moment to roll the spider in a tumbling turn.

Each gunshot resonated loudly within his head. The pain in his ears warred for dominance with his newly opened wounds. All it did was bring something deep inside him closer to the surface.

Growls bubbled up from within his chest as the spider turned. A howl burst out of his lips the moment the string of uncontrolled gunfire strafed the second firing position. His voice cut out only when the second attacker stopped firing.

With a triumphant growl, he hurled the metal spider up over his head onto its back. It ticked loudly in the suddenly still day. It tried to right itself to no avail, its legs jerking reflexively in the air.

Seeing his opponent down for the count, Flint let the pain win. The forest flared in his vision before gravity pulled him backward. Fiery pain burned up from his waist through his lungs.

Everything had gone black well before he hit the ground.

24

Johnathan

“Put your back into it, River!”

Johnathan couldn’t help but notice his voice sounded odd in his ears. Like the world was underwater. This ambush was just another experience to throw on the pile of things he had survived, and he swore to himself yet again that one of these days, he’d give up this adventurous lifestyle. As quickly as that thought came to mind, it fled—he knew he could never give this up. Life was too much fun.

Directing his focus back to River, he yelled again in an excited tone, “Jump on that sucker! You’re almost there. Just one or two more bounces and—”

The sound of rivets popping overpowered his voice. A metal panel went flying as he turned his back on the newly opened treasure. Looking at River, he noticed the man was on his back, not far from the branch he’d been using to pry the metal plate off. Johnathan rushed to his side to help him to his feet, apologizing profusely. When River regained his footing, it became evident that he was highly annoyed.

Taking a gander into the opened belly of the metal spider, River asked, “Why did you want to strip the metal hide off this thing? It’s not going to attack us again, is it?”

Shaking his head, Johnathan repeated like a mantra, “No, no, no, no…”

Turning back to his find, the guts of the machine splayed out before him. It was an amazing sight. High-caliber bullet holes had peppered its metal armor, stopping it dead in its tracks. The holes had also provided an easy way into the belly of the beast, as one might say. Pulling out clumps of dirty wires, his experienced eyes sought the circuit that would give him the information he wanted.

He heard the annoyance in River’s voice. “You said you could figure out who tried to kill us. Was that all just a lie? I see nothing written inside that unnatural horror.”

Waving an absent hand over his shoulder, Johnathan pulled the bullet-punctured circuit board out and exposed it to the open air. Squinting hard, he read tiny, digitally written words scrawled across the edge of the green board.

“Act-turo Manufactures… Combat Class A-20 Antipersonnel Assault Unit…”

Letting his eyes wander, he let the words tug at his memory. They sounded so familiar to him. It felt like looking for a single black grain in the shifting sands of a white beach. The closer his mind got to the memory, the harder it was to place it.

Memories of seeing some of those words came to him. Somewhere in his long life, he’d seen them etched on crates before. It had been back when he was a kid.

“Did you find anything yet? None of this means anything to me,” River said.

Johnathan tried not to grind his teeth as frustration swelled. He had almost been there; he had almost remembered where he’d seen those words before River distracted him.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he sat back in a huff and glanced up at River.

“You want me to figure out who attacked us, but here you are all up in my face, trying to force the answers before my tired old brain can remember…”

Johnathan had often seen a lot of expressions during his overly long life, but River’s? He hadn’t seen that one in a long time. A special kind of fear etched the face of this father, who had almost just lost his child. What River was expressing now was horribly unique—yet horribly familiar to Johnathan. He had known that fear… and what lay beyond when it was realized.

In a consolatory tone, he tried to bring the topic back around to more relevant matters.

“How is the kid doing? You know, without his help, we might not have made it out of here alive.”

Watching River’s face for any change, he was relieved when the father glanced back over his shoulder at his son before responding.

“Flint should be fine. Elen said he just ripped his stitches when he attacked that living metal thing. It was stupid for him to do that… But you’re right, we’d be dead now without his help.”

Painfully getting to his feet, Johnathan slipped the circuit board he had ripped from the robot’s carcass into his pouch. Reaching out with a comforting hand, he placed it on River’s shoulder.

“It will be alright. Flint’s a good kid. Take it from me… cherish this time you have with him. Once it’s gone, it’s like a hole that opens and swallows you whole.” He watched as a curious look took shape on River’s face. He preempted the comment he knew would be coming. “I used to have a wife and daughter years and years ago. Both are dead now. But every day I ache to have them back. Your boy accidentally brought out those painful feelings yesterday when we were fishing.” It was easy to see the wheels turning in River’s mind as he struggled to figure out how to respond. Johnathan waved him off before he could try to say anything to make him feel better. “You never get enough time with your kids. Make sure he knows how you honestly feel. Flint will be better for it when you do…”

River nodded.

“Thanks, I hope so.”

Hearing that had Johnathan smiling. Years ago, he’d been much like this man before him. Odd quirks and all.

Turning his back to River, he looked down at the tangled mess of ruined metal and mechanical pieces that had once been a robot. Knowing parts like these were a rarity these days, he sank back down to his knees and went to work.

Arms deep in grease, dirt, and wires, he called back over his shoulder to River.

“How about you go get some rest? Check on your boy for me, okay? It should only take an hour or two to salvage some important things I need from this. Then we can get going. How does that sound?”

Johnathan wasn’t surprised by River’s lack of response. Listening to him walk away, he smiled to himself. Turning back to work, he smiled like a kid in a candy shop.

25

Flint

Every step reminded Flint of the damage he’d done to himself just hours ago. The new stitches weren’t as pretty as the old ones, but if the pain was anything to go by, they were doing their job holding him together. The healer always told him things that hurt healed better, so it made him feel good to see how Elen was handling the work. They both looked up when they heard River move close.

After a heated discussion, River and Elen had concluded that someone was leaving traps behind for them. Hearing someone had it out for them only made Flint more eager to get back to tracking Mya.

Rubbing his shoulder, he could still feel the new bruises Elen had given him each time he’d tried to stand while she was stitching him up. Smiling at the thought, he caught her glare out of the corner of his eye and quickly schooled his facial features.

Over the past few hours, the area has been permeated by the chemical stench of living metal. It became hard not to notice the unfamiliar scents slowly overtaking the rusty chemical stink. Now that they’d been walking a fair amount, the trail of chemicals was fading fast but still lingering enough to draw him forward. It felt like they were getting close now.

Stepping out from under the cover of the forest, he held his hand up to shade his eyes. The afternoon carried a tired, dead heat that felt good. The sun was at a terrible angle, hitting him straight in the eyes. With the occlusion of some sparse clouds, he got a better look at what awaited them down the black path. What stood before them took everyone’s breath away.

At first Flint thought the sight was a natural formation, but the sharp and precise corners quickly dismissed that thought. Even at this extreme distance, the buildings that stood before the little group appeared massive.

The more his eyes picked out little details, the more overwhelmed he became. Tall edifices reached up to touch the sky, dominating the plains ahead of them. Several ancient trees grew next to the old relics, looking small and pitiful in comparison. Plant growth had tried to take back the area, but these relics had refused to yield their majesty.

Johnathan’s voice sounded wistful to Flint as he spoke. “As you can see, folks, the road continues into the city. Either that or our quarry has taken the longer route to the right there. That longer path most likely leads around this city of glass and steel. Thoughts, everyone?”

Flint shrugged when Johnathan looked in his general direction. As his father, Johnathan, and Elen debated over what to do next, Flint found his feet guiding him forward. He had never seen anything so amazing in his entire life. The closer he got to the buildings, the more they appeared to be hidden in shadow, row after row of metal fingers reaching toward the skies.

It didn’t take long for him to realize they were severely damaged. Bullet holes had at one time etched lines across the metal and concrete, similar to what he’d seen earlier that day.

Lost in the sheer wonder of everything, he jumped when a hand fell on his shoulder. Whipping about with a snarl, he found his father holding his hands up in surrender.

“Hey son, it’s just me. You walked off without us. None of us can figure out which path the kidnapper took. Can you smell anything? Any idea where they might have gone?”

Looking over his father’s shoulder, he found Elen nodding at him with a supportive smile. Johnathan flashed him a thumbs-up.

Feeling uncomfortable being the center of attention, he closed his eyes and tried to let his nose lead him. The scents in this place were unlike any he had smelled before, but he was getting used to the process and just let his mind wander.

Feet leading him in random directions, he walked back and forth as his nose searched for clues. Underneath the layer of smells nature provided, he found the chemical stink leading him to its source.

Flint opened his eyes and found he was pointing down the right-hand path that ran parallel to the massive buildings. He watched with curiosity as Johnathan reached into his backpack and brought out a thin sheet of paper. It smelled of age and dust.

“From what I can tell, looking at this old map, the kidnappers must have circumvented this section of the city. I’m not sure why they’d do such a thing; doing so has added a few days to their journey. If we cut through here, we might gain a few days on them.”

Flint watched Johnathan gesture toward the black path that led deeper into the tall buildings. It was hard not to feel the excitement building in his chest at the thought of witnessing the sights one might find in that strange place. The farther he looked, the more he could see that nature had reclaimed the black path leading into the city, until the road became lost under the foliage entirely.

Looking away from the buildings, he found Johnathan nodding in his direction. He turned to his father and Elen. The raccoon lady’s attention was elsewhere, clearly deep in thought. Finally, her voice sounded in the open air.

“So, what are we going to do? Do we take the long path or cut through? I know what I’d do if it was me, but…”

Flint saw the fear in Elen’s eyes when their eyes locked.

The old man’s comment made his own views clear.

“We’re waiting on you, kid. It’s your choice this time, Flint. You saved our bacon back at the ambush. What do you think we should do?”

Flustered by the statement, Flint kicked at the black-pebbled ground, then looked back up to find Elen, Johnathan, and even his father smiling or nodding supportively. Peering down the black path that led in the same direction as the chemical stink, he found a part of him drawn there. But if they traveled that way—the long way—they’d never catch up to Mya.

Looking at the openings between the tall towers, he couldn’t ignore the pang of excitement the spires brought on. Uncertain, he bit his lip.

“To be honest, I’m not sure which way is best. I don’t want to lose Mya……… but if we take the obvious route, we might not find her.”

Flint wanted to cringe at how weak his voice sounded. The slap his father gave him on the back made him jump in surprise. It wasn’t an angry slap, but one of encouragement.

River studied him. “Well, son, this one is on you. Do you think you’ll be able to pick up their trail again if we cut through that place?”

Feeling confident, Flint nodded. Seeing his father nod gave him a warm feeling.

“Well, everyone, I think Flint just answered our question. We’re heading into… Hey, what did you call it, Johnathan?”

Johnathan’s eyes twinkled. “It’s called a city. It once had a name, but darn it to hell, I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called.”

Flint found his father’s confidence in response to Johnathan’s memory lapse infectious. When Johnathan winked at him, he felt a tad bashful.

Looking at his father, he found River was already on his way toward the city, leading as he liked to do. Elen followed him at a slight distance. It was a habit they’d had since he was a kid, and it was comforting to see some things never changed.

Wanting to ask something of Johnathan, he turned in the old man’s direction, only to find he’d already fallen in line with everyone else.

Not wanting to be left behind, Flint fell into the easy pace his father had set. A good feeling spread through his chest as the realization dawned that they were going this way because of him. They trusted him. It felt great being taken seriously.

26

Mya

Mya found the large fire warming yet repulsive. It was such a waste when people worked so hard to find safe places to find fuel. As soon as the sun fell, the temperature dropped precipitously. Unlike most people she knew, Archon didn’t seem to notice the difference as he kept up with the brutal pace. Eventually, she’d had to ask him if they could stop.

It was one of those funny moments, the type you’d remember years later—a look of shock and panic had blanked his face, so foreign to his features. It had felt like he’d had no true understanding of how cold she’d been and was troubled by that fact.

He immediately put a stop to their relentless walk and rushed off to gather wood. Before she knew it, there was a fire going. It wasn’t a normal fire, like the sort she’d share with her family, but so large she felt almost cut off from Archon as he sat on the far side.

Pulling her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and looked at each of the metal spiders one by one. Archon had tried so hard to help her understand how they worked during their walk. How they weren’t alive, or even spiders, but replicas that imitated how actual spiders moved. In the end, she found the fact they weren’t alive made them that much creepier. Nothing dead should be able to move the way they did—but he reassured her over and over they would protect her.

Whoever came up with the term “living metal” must have been an idiot.

As soon as that thought flashed through her head, she realized she’d been an idiot, too. Not knowing or understanding something could get you hurt or killed out of sheer ignorance. Staring into the fire, she promised herself she would learn all Archon had to teach and more. Mya refused to be weak anymore.

Her breath caught in her throat as Archon stepped into the firelight holding a bundle of small sticks and branches. Without saying a word, she watched him walk over and set his collection a good distance from the fire. For someone who apparently hadn’t grown up outside, he seemed to know the basics, at least. This thought caused a giggle to bubble up in her, and she didn’t have enough time to cut it off before Archon overheard and peered in her direction.

“Is something funny? If you have a joke, I would love to hear it, dear.”

The honest sincerity in his voice made her feel bad for giggling at him.

“Everything is fine, I promise. When I saw you bringing that wood back, something my father once shared with me came to mind. How do you know a tree is dangerous?”

What she thought was a simple childhood joke seemed to be taken seriously by Archon. His face scrunched in consideration, thinking hard about the question. He brightened when he thought of an answer to the joke. It made her feel a little better that for once they could share something without it feeling like they were coming from different worlds.

Smiling, she waited, but was wholly unprepared for what she received.

“The tree is poisonous? Or maybe it has thorns? Is it an animal-eating tree?”

The serious literalism of his answer had Mya clamping her hands over her mouth as she burst into laughter. His honest smile made it all the harder for her to stop laughing, but that all changed the moment he frowned. The laughter died in her throat as she realized how he must be feeling right now.

Feeling bad, she shook her head. “Sorry Archon, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just that… it’s a child’s joke. You thought about it too hard. It goes like this… ‘How can you tell if a tree is dangerous? By its bark.’”

She pursed her lips, unsure of Archon as he stared at her from across the fire. The silence grew, and Mya feared she’d offended him.

Frowning, she was about to apologize and ask for forgiveness when he burst into boisterous laughter. An uncertain smile crawled across her face but slowly grew more genuine when she saw how much Archon was enjoying himself.

When he calmed down, Mya asked, “Have you never heard a joke before?”

Archon shook his head. “I’ve read jokes that survived in old databases, but they never made much sense to me.”

Finding that statement spoke of a terrible loneliness, Mya’s heart broke a little for him.

“I’m sorry…”

From the intense look on Archon’s face, she got the feeling that he had been alone most of his life. The thought was incredibly sad. A pang of regret grew in her chest as she realized how she’d been viewing this lonely man this entire time. First, he’d surprised her in the ruins, and she’d feared him even as he saved Flint’s life. Then the metal spiders scared her, despite his best efforts to show her they weren’t a threat. Now to see how he reacted to the joke… something about her understanding of him had clicked into place, and it all just felt so sad. She had been wondering since the night they’d met why he’d asked her to travel with him—the truth was almost too sad to accept.

“I’m glad we’re friends, Archon. Thank you for asking me to come with you.” His mouth opened and closed, futilely searching for the right words, but Mya refused to let her comment end there. “Maybe through you I can learn about stuff my parents and fellow villagers never even dreamed of.” Sweeping her arm out to encompass the metal spiders, she continued, “I would’ve gone all my life thinking these machines were living metal. When in truth they aren’t even living. They run on… elec… electricia?”

Archon’s gravelly voice was barely loud enough to hear over the popping and crackling of the fire.

“Electricity. It’s an easy word to forget, given you’ve never known its power.”

She shook her head furiously.

“No. I want to learn that word and all the other words you know. Will you help me learn about where my family and I come from? Please?”

Mya internally recoiled at how weak she sounded right now, but she needed to understand the real world to help those she cared about. She hated to beg, but she found she would in that moment if that’s what it took. If he wouldn’t teach her, then who would?

Feeling terribly vulnerable, she placed her head on her knees and looked at the hot ashes. When Archon didn’t respond, she brought her eyes up to find him inspecting her intensely.

“Mya, my dear, I’m not sure what to say to your request. After our trip to my home, yes, there is so much to teach you, and yet…”

It was hard to hear him floundering like this. So noncommittal. Shaking her head violently, she said in a concerned voice, “Look, I’ll stay with you, okay? I need to learn. If I’m to save anyone, I need to understand all the things I don’t know… that way I can look out for everyone around me. Without the information you could share with me, who knows who might die, all because of my stupidity and ignorance…”

She let her words trail off. The sharp popping of the fire was the only sound that broke the silence, making it feel more intimate. Unsure how to feel about what she’d just said, she dropped her chin back to her knees. It eased her discomfort some when he smiled. Sure, it looked a little lopsided and creepy, but the honesty in his eyes spoke volumes.

Archon’s gravelly voice gave her a small touch of comfort in the chilly night.

“I’ve never had anyone ask me to help them understand the state of our world, Mya. Is it true you wish to help humanity as a whole? That’s a very dangerous and difficult task you wish to undertake. Do you know what you are truly asking… and what it might take from you?”

Mya found words couldn’t encompass how she was feeling. Memories of everyone in the village ran through her head, causing her to tear up. After all they had done for her, it was her time to step up and save them. To let them prosper. If Archon was offering what she thought he was, no price would be too small.

“No matter the cost, I’d do anything to help those I care for. I chose to go with you.”

“Okay, Mya. I’ll talk to my people and see if they’re willing to take you in. But before I do, there’s much to discuss. Do you even know how the world came to be like this?”

“No, I don’t.”

He pointed to the living metal spiders.

“There was once a time when all of nature bowed to human control like those machines right there. We twined DNA with metal like it was a part of us…” He scratched the back of his neck gently. “…and for most, we are indeed one and the same.”

Fumbling with her words, she asked the first question that came to mind.

“Are you saying you’re like them? Do you mold nature and metal like the people you’re talking about? Are you even… alive?”

Fearing he wouldn’t understand her, she scrunched up her brow as she thought about how to better voice her questions, then jumped when he laughed out loud.

When the laughter died off, he said, “Yes and no. I’m not a machine, but I have machines in me. The people I work for are trying to save humanity. Every day, people like you or me are out in the world trying to make it a better place for everyone.”

She scoffed at the thought of Archon being like her—he seemed so much larger and more well-informed than anyone she’d ever known.

“How can someone like you, who controls these living metal things, be alive? You don’t even say anything out-loud and they appear to do as you say. How could you be alive?”

Still, she became enthralled as he continued.

“Yes, I’m alive, but I’ve been altered a few times in the hope of creating a new world for humanity to live in. I want to help erase this polluted mess you see around you. There was once a time when we controlled the world and didn’t allow the dregs of nature to run mad. Machines helped us grow, learn well past the limits of anything we could even dream up today.”

Mya sat captivated by the stories he told late into the night. With each twist and turn, her interest grew. That this was accurate information about the past was the scariest part. Humanity, who had once stood proud, had fallen so far. What comforted her was the fact that she might play a role in helping this new world come about—and in the process save herself and her loved ones.

27

Johnathan

Johnathan tried to draw peace from the small fire before him. What he’d seen today would haunt him for years to come. He had seen videos that had survived the apocalypse, and he’d yet to find a city so well-preserved, still bearing the scars of that horrible time. All afternoon, wherever he looked, there were signs of war. Mangled, melted, bullet-ridden buildings spoke of the carnage that must have played out here and across the world.

The scariest thing was, when he closed his eyes, he kept seeing the remains of a tank with legs. It had looked a little too much like the robots that had ambushed them earlier to truly allow him to feel comfortable camping here. Wedged between two buildings, its hull was almost entirely free of rust yet encased with plant life that had grown inside every joint, seam, and opening. He swore that when he’d glanced back at that robot tank after they’d passed, he’d seen it twitching. Shivering despite the warmth of the fire, his eyes drifted over to his companions, who were having a riot of a time.

Across the fire, Flint’s eyes were large as saucers, a comforting sight. Tensions had run high ever since the incident in the village, but seeing them as they were now made it hard to believe this was the same little group. Flint’s hands waved in the air as he described the fish that had tried to eat his arm. Johnathan had decided not to tell the kid that the fish was a bottom-feeder and had no teeth. The way he was describing it sounded far more fearsome and fun.

A smile slowly spread across Johnathan’s face, and he chipped in at a dramatic moment.

“So, what happened next, kid? Remember, I missed the best part.”

Watching Flint’s wide, excited eyes from across the fire gave Johnathan a warm feeling in his chest. The kid was really getting into his story; his tongue waggled back and forth as his hands tried to keep up gesturing along to his tale. If Johnathan was being honest, it was a sight to behold.

“Huh? Oh yeah. You left after the first fish, didn’t you? Well, there I was… hip-deep in the water, right hand making small swirls like I was doing before. Then I tried something new…”

Letting his eyes drift over to River’s weathered face, it was clear as daylight how proud the man was of his son. Given the dangers they had already survived, Johnathan had a bad feeling River would need that feeling to get through what might await them.

A loud slap drew his eyes to Elen as she pulled her hand off River’s back. There was a stream of tears covering her muzzle due to her laughter.

They needed this right now, and here he was ruining the party. He made a conscious effort to focus on Flint’s story.

“…next thing I knew, one arm was gone! A fish had eaten the entire thing and was flopping around like mad, but this time I knew what to expect. Or so I thought… Flying up out of the water, here comes this fish…” Johnathan watched as Flint threw his arms wide as he suggested an impossible size for any bottom-feeder he’d ever known. “…and my free arm was up like this…” River fell over laughing, causing Elen to burst into an even higher-pitched chittering. Johnathan could feel the temptation to join in building within him. “…so here I was, right? One arm eaten, the other with a fish lodged around my fist up to my elbow. Slapping me in the face with its tail… and then I went tipping backward into the water.”

The longer the tale went, the wilder it got, but the laughter was genuine. It was something they all needed after the dangers they’d faced earlier that day.

The later it got, the taller the fire grew. At first Johnathan thought little of it, but by the time everyone was about to turn in, the fire was running quite high. He was so focused on the flames, he almost missed River’s quiet question.

“Did you notice it too?”

Blinking to buy time, Johnathan pondered the question before looking at River.

“Notice what too? That the fire has gotten slightly taller? The wind must have died down is all.”

River shook his head.

“It’s not just that… look around. The stars are different. The wind died down slowly over the last… maybe three hours or so?”

Sighing, Johnathan squinted at the sky.

“You’re just seeing things. The Big Dipper is right th—by the gods! Where is it?”

If there was one thing in this life Johnathan knew by heart, it was the constellations. But tonight, it appeared his memory was truly failing him. His eyes roamed over new points of light that lit up the sky. Everywhere he looked, there were no constellations—it wasn’t just the Big Dipper out of alignment but all the stars.

Not wanting to accept what he was seeing, a sinking feeling hit as he realized that there were very few stars shining. The sky should have been ablaze with them.

Ignoring River’s concerned look, he continued with his personal exam. Tapping his fingers across each palm, the expected sensations registered. Closing his eyes to the bright fire, he used his hands to tap random parts of his body, and he got the expected reactions. He could feel each part he touched. He was not hallucinating, at least from what he could tell, and his body was working as well as it could these days.

Opening his eyes, he found River staring with a concerned look on his face.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I just needed to see if I was hallucinating. There was this one time…”

His words fell off as River signaled for silence.

“Did you hear it tonight? As soon as the daylight fell, there was that sound…”

Not knowing what River was talking about, he threw the man a questioning look, but River turned away to look pointedly beyond the fire. Feeling compelled to follow his gaze, he found Elen and Flint fast asleep, comforted by the fire’s warmth. It was clear why River had been quiet; he didn’t want to wake those two up. Seemed reasonable, but something felt off.

Feeling a small nudge to his ribs, he turned back to River. He was up on his feet and motioning to move away from the fire. Instead of waiting for Johnathan to get up, River moved off toward the closest building, leaving Johnathan to groan inwardly. He hoped that once they talked, they could figure out what was going on in the sky. All this sneaking around and keeping secrets from one another was for the birds in his eyes.

Trying to stifle his groans, he slowly eased himself to his feet before following River’s tracks. While he knew he wasn’t making much noise, it still sounded like he was stomping compared to the younger man’s silent progress. Slipping out the small flashlight he had found earlier in the ruins, he shook its casing to get the bacteria to mix up inside. When he flicked the small switch on top, a bright beam illuminated the world, focusing the light from the bioluminescent bacteria within through a series of lenses.

Using the light source to guide him, he quickly caught up to River just as the man was slipping between some ivy vines to enter a war-torn building. Johnathan shook his head in disbelief. River should know better than to enter an old wreck in the middle of the night. Shrugging, he followed him inside. Stepping into an open room, it took a moment for him to get his bearings.

River’s head whipped back to glare at him. Johnathan had stared down many a man or beast, so this was hardly a concern, but clearly the man was in a confrontational mood, or else trying to get some point across. Their eyes met before River shielded his against the glare of the flashlight. Before dousing their only light source, Johnathan took stock of his surroundings.

Ivy encapsulated everything. The plant life had tangled itself through furniture and fixings that had long since rotted into disrepair. Skeletal remains hung suspended from vines, creating a tableau of grinning death. Small particles of dust wafted through the air, reflecting the light.

River’s forceful hand closed around his, holding the flashlight. With a simple flip of a switch, the flashlight went dark—but the room didn’t. The motes the beam had picked up glowed a brilliant blue, creating small sparks of light throughout the room. Johnathan scoped out the scene in this new illumination. Turning his head toward the suspended skeletons, his mouth dropped in shock and horror.

The skeletons had a bioluminescence of their own. Their bones glowed. To his old eyes, it appeared that a thin sheen of mold atop them shed the light. The skull of one skeleton had mushrooms growing out of its eyes and mouth, providing a far brighter light. The skeleton moved slowly back and forth in a gentle breeze—and that’s when the realization hit.

There was no wind.

The skeleton wasn’t moving; the ivy suspending it was. Following the vine with his eyes, Johnathan watched as the ivy that encircled the skeleton slowly weaved together and closed off one of the closest doorways.

Grabbing River by the arm, Johnathan twisted with all the strength he could muster and dragged him toward the exit, only to find the entry narrowing. The vines were moving of their own accord, twisting and pulling on each other, shutting off their only escape.

Not waiting for River’s expected verbal jab, Johnathan pushed the man forward toward their quickly closing exit.

Keeping his eyes peeled for any danger, he waited as River wiggled his way out of the building. As soon as River was through, Johnathan threw himself down onto the ground and shimmied through the ever-closing gap. It was dirty work, but nothing new to him.

His head hit the open air, and he relished the scent of freedom. Wiggling out like a worm as the vines closed in around him, he pulled one leg free. As he was pulling the other leg out, something caught his ankle.

Johnathan was too old to let his emotions take control in moments like this. He forced down his fear and dug his hands into the dirt. He kicked, then lurched forward and used his hands and free foot to attack the vine that had him by the ankle, but it was to no avail. The sound of a blade being drawn caught his attention.

River stood above him brandishing a knife. The younger man lunged forward, and the pressure on Johnathan’s ankle lessened, and he lurched forward and landed on his face.

Johnathan’s senses were awakened to the silent night as they stepped into the open air. What had once gone unnoticed now sounded loud and angry. The whispered slither of crawling ivy rang out in the silent night.

On instinct, he glanced up and swallowed—those lights above them weren’t stars. Meeting River’s eyes, Johnathan jerked his head toward the fire and the two men scrambled back to the safety of the light. Johnathan wondered if either of them would get any sleep tonight, with this new knowledge running through their minds.

28

Flint

“Explain this to me again,” Elen said, her voice strained.

Johnathan’s voice quickly cut in with an edge to it. “You are not listening. The ivy is moving. Use your eyes, kid—assuming they work. Look at the sky. See anything off about it?”

“Johnathan, don’t talk to Elen like that. I’m only going to warn you once,” River said.

The group lapsed into silence, yet everyone’s pulse was loud in Flint’s ears. Their hearts beat intensely. Something was wrong, but as much as he tried, this argument wouldn’t allow him to get back to sleep.

Sincerity laced Johnathan’s voice. “Look, I’m sorry, Elen. I’ve seen a lot in my long life… But this is on another level. If you need proof, tell me, is the sun up right now?”

“Sure it is… I mean… I think it is? Okay, you got me there…” Defeat showed on Elen’s face.

Flint took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. They had been going at it all morning. He’d refused to get up, instead pretending to be asleep. From the sound of things, the argument was getting worse.

Finally losing his patience, he threw the blanket off himself, opened his eyes, and immediately became confused. What time was it? It was too dark to be daytime, yet the stars weren’t shining as they should have been at night.

There was an earthy smell of wet dirt permeating the air, and he found it odd he hadn’t picked up on it while lying there. Sitting up with a groan, someone grumbled a good morning, but he refused to acknowledge them. If he said something, chances were he’d get drawn into their petty argument.

Looking up toward the sky, he cracked his neck, then blinked a few times, not wanting to believe his eyes. A dome of intertwined vines hid the sky from view. Staring at them, he figured the vines were a simple ivy, just like the plants covering the buildings. This couldn’t be… it was impossible.

Turning to ask about what had happened last night, he found Elen looking stricken. Johnathan seemed to have aged a few years overnight; heavy bags bulged under his eyes and the skin on his face drooped a little. It was his father, though, who really bothered him. He had a look to him that Flint had seen many times before, just horribly magnified. Lack of sleep had etched itself into every fiber of his being. He was slumped over, his eyes terribly bloodshot. An edge to how he held himself suggested he was waiting for something terrible to happen. Flint feared to ask what was going on but knew he had to if he was to help, so he looked to Elen.

“Um, what happened last night? Why are all those vines blanketing the sky?”

She replied in a tense voice, “Ask these two numbskulls. Something happened last night. Now we have two jittery, sleep-deprived meatheads rambling when they should have woken us the moment they knew something was wrong.”

It was rare to see her glaring at his father like this; he was glad he wasn’t the target of her ire.

“Johnathan, what happened last night to cause all this?”

Waving a hand to encompass the sky, Johnathan said, “Look, kid. It’s not our fault. Despite what Elen seems to feel.” Flint caught Johnathan’s furtive glance in Elen’s general direction before he continued, “For once, this was not my fault. I can promise you that. And your dad had nothing to do with it. We were just talking late into the night and went for a walk to avoid waking you both. We entered a building for but a moment. When the ivy attacked us there, it had already covered the sky without us realizing it. We ran back here and quietly argued. In truth, I’m not sure there is much we could have done even if we had woken you.”

Nodding, Flint took in Johnathan’s story even if his mind refused to believe it. If only he could find some space to think undisturbed. Maybe he could look at this from a different angle.

Taking a chance, he said, “I’ll be right back. I need to go relieve myself.”

Getting to his feet, he was about to head off toward the nearest building, figuring he’d step out of eyesight, when his father made to walk over to him. Unsure how to handle the situation, he took a relieved breath when Johnathan’s hand whipped out to block River’s path.

“River, give the boy some space. You and I need sleep if we’re going to figure a way out. Elen can guard the camp, and Flint won’t wander far.” He felt the heat of Johnathan’s eyes boring into him. “Right, kid? Not going far, are ya? You wouldn’t do anything so stupid as walk into a building like me and your father did, yeah?”

His words made Flint feel guilty. It was almost like the old man knew what he’d been about to do and preempted his carelessness. Flint nodded his head but refused to look back for fear his guilt would show as he set off at a swift pace.

Moving around the corner of the closest building, he let out a sigh. The tension in his shoulders relaxed a bit. He tried to spot anything he might have missed when they’d entered the city yesterday. At first glance, everything appeared normal—if you excluded the ivy that covered the sky or the buildings that reached to the heavens. If he added those things into the mix, this was hands down the craziest place he had ever seen.

If his eyes couldn’t see anything, he figured the next best thing to trust was his newfound sense of smell. He closed his eyes and drew in the overwhelming scents around him. The smell of fresh dirt was heavy in the air, much more potent than yesterday. Below that, something was lurking, almost forgettable. Concentrating, he tried to pull those vague odors into focus. The smell of rust, rot, and mold graced his nose, but there it was, that something deeper he struggled to grab onto.

Letting his feet guide him, he stumbled around with his eyes closed as he followed the elusive scents.

It was a light touch that set the fur on his neck twitching. Brushing his hand across it, he thought little of it and continued searching. A few steps later, more feather-light touches had the fur going again. Shaking his head, his left ear felt the lightest of breezes grace it, causing him to open his eyes.

Standing between two buildings, there wasn’t much to see except the rampant ivy growing along the walls. Moss, small clumps of grass, and ferns dominated the ground. But something felt off.

Remembering the ant that had attacked in the ruins, his ears perked and he scanned the area intensely. Out of the corner of his eye, a fern frond twitched near to the ground. He expected to smell the scent of a rabbit or something small. If only he’d been so lucky.

Pushing out from behind the ferns, standing several centimeters off the ground as if it was alive, was a yellowed fox skull. Small, bulbous orbs pushed out from within its eye sockets. As he watched, a cascade of cockroaches swarmed across the top of the skull before slithering their way underneath it.

He was held captive, horrified by the sudden lurch of the small fox skeleton from behind the ferns. Each shaky step shed cockroaches that fell to the ground before merging once again with the black carapace of living bugs encapsulating the bones. The bugs pulled against each other and the bones acted as muscle and sinew to propel the skeleton forward. Working in tandem, it was like the insects were using the fox skeleton as a mobile hive. Flint took a revolted step backward.

The fox monstrosity turned its head as though it were observing him. He took another step back, and the fox took two steps toward him. There was a feeling in the air that made his skin shiver and his fur ripple across his body.

The fox skeleton opened its mouth to expose a mass of black bugs crawling over each other. A sharp, hissing sound emanated from its slight form. Cockroaches of all shapes and sizes crawled out from holes, rocks, and vines as if summoned. The swarm created a blanket of black undulating insects that surged up behind the little walking hive.

Something flicked his ear, but he ignored it—he needed to focus on the fox thing before him.

Another brush against his ears forced him to break his eyes away from the insect swarm. Looking around, a swarm of flying cockroaches was encircling him, lazily bumping against his body.

He yelled, “Why did it have to be bugs?”

Nails digging trails in the thick moss, he launched himself away from the insect swarm back in the direction he’d come. Each stride was longer than the next, but it didn’t matter how fast he ran—the insects struck him in the back, landing on him. The hissing noise was loud in his ears. Swiping his hands across his body, large clumps of smooth, crawling objects fall from his fur.

He looked over his shoulder. The fox monstrosity led the charge like a proud general, the wave of insects ebbing and flowing like black living water behind it, surging back and forth from one wall to the next. The swarm was a tidal wave bearing down on him.

Movement to his left caused him to whip his head in time to see a section of the black wave disengage from the wall and aggressively fly toward him. He jumped forward; the moss lessening the impact of his roll as the swarm of insects flew overhead. As the little black bodies hit the ground, they pooled, mimicking water once again. His hopes they might be stunned by the impact were quickly dashed as the black mass surged toward him. With the undulating insect swarm behind him and a new, smaller mass before him, he found himself cut off. He searched for a way to escape.

It was hard to make out details in the low light, but behind the ivy he swore he saw dirty glass dully gleaming alongside a nearby building. Hesitating, he took a long look at the wall. Not seeing any other form of escape, he raised his arms to protect his face. Pumping his legs hard, left shoulder leading, he ran straight into the glass—and rebounded right off it. He fell back and landed atop some ferns. Flint looked at where he’d hit the glass and saw something positive: cracks in its dirty surface.

Putting his hands down to push himself up, and the bug swarm surged over them. Skin crawling, he tried to ignore it as he got up off the ground. By the time he was standing, his hands were throbbing in pain. He shook them hard, and cockroaches flew in every direction. Once more protecting his head, he launched himself at the glass façade, intent on breaking through this time.

Glass shattered in a wave of shards around him. Flint reflexively shook them off. Ivy that had been growing along the glass gripped him momentarily, but he ripped his way through. No time to let his eyes adjust—he barreled forward into the building.

The last thing he expected was to see another glass wall.

Not daring to stop, he bent forward and braced himself, then plowed through.

A grinding noise echoed throughout the ivy-encrusted building. Surprise and relief flooded through Flint. It had to be sheer luck that the glass he’d propelled himself into happened to be a glass doorway, which instead of breaking, swung inward on its hinges.

Stumbling forward, he quickly turned and closed the door behind him. Past the dusty glass portal, the black wave surged through the opening he’d made on the opposite side of the building. The hissing noise slowly grew, and he found he could easily hear it through the glass barrier.

It took little time for the fox creature to step through the opening in the building. The egg sacs lodged in the thing’s skull glowed dully as it walked into the dark interior.

Flint watched in horror as the hive slowly closed the distance. The flying insects landed on the thin glass wall, slowly occluding what little sight he had of the swarm as it steadily built up in a mound on the other side.

29

Mya

Mya opened her eyes, only to close them reflexively against the bright morning light. Her world felt so small this morning. Archon had shared so many things with her that rang of fables. She had the sinking feeling that everything he’d talked about was a lesser version of what the world had actually been like.

A world full of people? Villages packed full of buildings that reached to the skies? People who lived in the sky, the moon, and beyond?

Sitting up, she turned to Archon. “You said we’re headed to your home. How long will it take to get there? After last night, I wish to learn more. So much more. Once we get there, can you teach me more about what life used to be like for people like us?”

She found the look on Archon’s face inscrutable, but felt better when he nodded. He seemed to appreciate her newfound interest in the past, and while it was an odd feeling, she found she liked it.

Getting up off her blanket, she went to work rolling it up. Archon’s voice made her look over her shoulder at him.

“It’s early. I’m sure you need to eat. Once you finish packing, maybe you should use that rolled-up blanket to sit on. I know this old roadway can’t be too comfortable. It’s a wonder it’s in such good condition even after all these years.”

Turning back to her work, Mya quickly finished tying the blanket up, then stood up and threw it onto one of their metal companions, into a bin used to store such items. It was odd that she no longer saw the metal spiders as things alive or dead, but rather as complex tools. So much had changed in the short time she’d been with Archon.

In a no-nonsense but hopefully cheery tone, she tried to make sure he understood how important moving on was to her.

“I’d rather eat on the way.” “After what you told me last night,” she said, “I want to learn all I can. You said it would take a few days to get to this meetup with your other friends. We should probably not leave them waiting. Right?”

His face quickly turned inscrutable. He turned his back on her and started walking. His pace had been rough, but over the last few days, she’d gotten used to it, and it was easy enough to catch up. She found the robot spiders falling in line, flanking them on all sides. She smiled, taking comfort in the spiders’ constant protection.

Given so many days of walking and very little talking, she found herself pleasantly surprised when she heard Archon’s voice grind out, “If you wish to get to my home quickly, then I might as well share some good news with you. They informed me last night while you were asleep that our rendezvous point has changed.”

Mya wasn’t buying it.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Archon turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re learning my patterns. I’m not sure how I feel about that.” She looked down, avoiding his eyes. “However, you are correct. There is more. But I don’t want you to be afraid. I’d rather you savor the safety we’ll enjoy before the last leg of our journey.”

Frowning, she met his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

Archon stopped and pinned Mya with a serious look.

“Where we’ll be going, there will be low-grade radiation. Not enough to harm either of us. Our transport will pick us up shortly after we arrive, so we must be quick on our feet.”

Mya scrunched up her features. She didn’t wish to appear dumb, but asked, “What is this…… ‘radiation’? Is it a poison of some kind?”

Archon shook his head. “No, radiation is something you cannot feel. It’s hard for me to describe to you, given your limited understanding of the world. In large enough doses, it can harm you. Your body can break down or get burned. You can bleed from your eyes, or other openings. People throw up, lose teeth and hair. This isn’t something I wish for you to hear about, honestly.”

Mya felt the blood drain from her face. Memories of a traumatic time in her childhood came back to her in full force. If they were to be believed, given she had been very young at the time, a group of people had come to the village suffering those very problems. They had been exploring ruins when one fell into a pit of water. Those who survived long enough to reach the village had died slowly, even with the healer trying to help them.

Shuddering, she brought her eyes up to meet Archon’s. It was a strange feeling to find him watching her. Being the first and only person she knew to do this, she wondered what he was looking for.

“This radiation thing sounds like what our healer used to call ‘the melts.’ Some people came to our village long ago, suffering from the afflictions you speak of.”

The look of puzzled interest on Archon’s face confused her. She waited for him to speak, and the two ended up staring at each other for a short time.

Finally, he said, “Do not fear these problems, Mya. I can see why one might call them the melts. To those who do not understand what’s happening, it would look like your body was melting. It’s not that, but it’s too hard to explain in such little time. Maybe later, once we get to my home? If you still have an interest, I will teach you in earnest.”

Mya nodded. Archon set his usual brutal pace, but now that they were on the roadway, walking was easier and far faster. Letting her eyes wander, she spotted a tangle of green vines intertwined in a mass that rose high above the treetops to her left.

Archon broke the silence between them.

“Interesting. No wonder Control said the city was dangerous. I’ve never seen an event like this before. I wonder what set them off.”

Tearing her eyes away from the mass of vines, she found Archon’s pace slowed as he studiously inspected the plant life. Mya found her eyes constantly dragged back to the vines time and time again. As they walked, she felt a little better seeing Archon shared her interest. At least the spectacle kept her mind off the mind-numbing walk.

30

Archon

Archon dragged his eyes away from the vines that now enclosed the city. Little had changed over the last few hours, but a deep-seated concern had lodged in his guts the moment Mya had pointed it out. Control had directed him around that area. It was clear the place was dangerous, but what would cause the vines to react like that? Nothing in his experience provided an answer, and for the first time in a long while, he felt adrift without a rudder.

Blinking, he brought up a topographical map and relaxed a little when he saw they had arrived. Glancing at his companion, it wasn’t lost on him that Mya was tired. She had tried to hide it, but her constant yawning gave her fatigue away.

“We can stop here, my dear. Our transport should arrive soon. Maybe you should sit down a moment and rest?”

Archon schooled his reaction when she shook her head defiantly. The specimen… no, that no longer felt right. This person was defiant. Would she end up standing in the way of his personal goals? Regardless, Mya was fascinating to observe.

“Archon, why are you looking at me so funny?”

Taken off guard, he responded instinctively.

“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I was just thinking.”

This time, he didn’t stop the bashful smile from spreading across his features. It made him feel better when she smiled in turn. He wondered how he had found such a wonderful person in this world gone mad.

Taken in by his own thoughts, her scream shook him from his musings.

Looking around for the reason for her outburst, he caught the small dust bloom their transport was causing on its way in from the north. Turning to Mya, preparing to comfort her and explain, he was unsure what to think when he found her staring not at the dust cloud, but at her left foot. It was quickly sinking into a pile of dirt.

Archon went cold. Unsure what to do, he reacted on instinct.

Dashing toward her, he fell to his knees. Resting one hand on the roadway, he brought his right hand back and punched down in the dirt. It moved with the fluidity of liquid. This experience reminded him of some ants he’d once encountered that would trap air in the sand, producing a similar effect.

Using his massive strength, he forced his arm down toward Mya’s leg. When her scream became a wail, he fought harder to find what was wrong. He registered his heart was beating faster, and an odd emotion surged within him.

At first, his fingers brushed against something rubbery. Moving his hand closer, he found the object wasn’t Mya’s leg, but something wrapped around it. He closed his fist around the rubbery material. His fingers sank in, leaving his hand feeling sticky, wet, and gooey. Leaning back, he pulled with all his strength.

“Pull, Mya! Pull your foot up!”

The muscles in his back rippled with each centimeter as the offending object moved toward the surface. Under his firm grip, the mass of flesh wiggled and squirmed, but he refused to let go. To lose her like this.

Something changed in an instant—his hand whipped out of the dirt as the pressure let up. In his dust-covered hand were the remains of a purple-colored tentacle similar to what octopuses once looked like. Mya’s renewed scream caught his attention as she was pulled back down, deeper than before.

Plunging his hand back into the dirt, Archon closed his eyes so he could focus. When his fingers felt something hard and sharp, he knew he had it. Pushing down, he shoved his arm into the dirt up to his shoulder. A tingling sensation spread across his hand. There was a slimy feeling of something convulsing around his wrist. Grabbing hold of it, he pulled with everything he had.

He yanked his arm from the dirt. Slime trails dripped down his arm into the dirt. Free from the underground terror, Mya yanked her leg out of the dirt and collapsed to the ground, sobbing. As the fleshy mass squirmed in his hand, Archon swore he felt teeth trying to clamp down around his wrist. Each time he felt the sharp points closing in, he’d squeeze, causing the creature to spasm. Using his arm, he launched the slimy, fleshy mass into the air.

Yelling, he commanded, “Exception for Subject: Mya and Subject: 42, terminate all else within the surrounding area.”

The sound of gunfire filled the air. Holding Mya down with one arm, he pushed himself to the ground to shelter her as bullets whipped past him in small bursts.

The gunfire stopped in seconds, replaced by Mya’s sobbing. Crawling off her, he tenderly picked up her left leg to inspect it. Small pricks of blood bled freely and mingled with trails of dirty slime. Whatever the creature had done, it appeared to have used an anticoagulant. A part of him wondered why that was, but that wasn’t important now. Grabbing some bandages from his pants pocket, he cleaned and then wrapped Mya’s wounds. Standing up, he picked her off the ground and turned in time to watch their transport arrive.

The military vehicle trundled to a stop before them. He inspected it for any potential damage, but saw nothing. Standing almost two stories tall, the vehicle sat on eight black three-meter-tall tires. The craft’s armor was thick enough to stop high-caliber rounds. Experience told him it was more a tank than actual transport. Mounted along the top was a suite of radio dishes, floppy antenna, and weaponry.

Mya’s pained voice caused him to look down at her. As he looked deep into Mya’s eyes, the back of the carrier opened, creating a ramp into its shadowed interior.

“What is that thing? Is that what we were waiting for? Another living—err, is that another machine?”

Archon nodded to Mya. Walking up the ramp, he found a seat and gently placed Mya in it. Pulling straps across her chest, lap, and shoulders, he busied himself strapping her in. His hands were about to close the final buckle when words appeared across his vision.

Priority Message. Control to Subject: 42. Danger! Projected outcome compromised.

Sighing, he finished buckling her in before standing. Holding a hand up to prevent Mya from asking questions, he closed his eyes and fell into the blackness. His body became cold and rigid.

“Control, this is Archon. You said you have a priority message?”

Subject: 42. The algorithm has detected a conflict in progress. Ambush was a failure.

“Control, why am I just now finding out about this?”

Impossible to contact earlier given background radiation.

“Okay. The ones following are still on our trail?”

Affirmative. Projected outcome: they will breach the city’s depths sometime within the next one to seven days.

“Reason for deploying a projection rather than actual data?”

Biological objects are obscuring scans of the area. A mass of living matter has slowly encapsulated the city.

“Yes, I noticed. The ivy encapsulated all the buildings from what he saw. Does it prevent infrared from penetrating?”

Checking… Waiting for data … Infrared data messy. Difficulty estimating precise target location. Difficulty projecting targetable area. Range off by up to ten meters.

“Are you stating you can guess where the targets are?”

Confirmed.

“And our aim will be good enough?”

Confirmed.

“I’d like to authorize a salvo. Target is the security detail following Test Subject: 42. Do I have authorization?”

Control: Bank 1—Authorized.

Control: Bank 2—Authorized

Control: Bank 3—Not Authorized Justification: Loss of physical assets. Cannot be replaced.

“Control? Is that a go? Do I have authorization to use the asset? Two of three are in agreement.”

Confirmed. State authorization protocols initiated. Launch is a go.

Forcing his eyes open, Archon felt mentally pulled in two different directions. He could see words projected across his vision of the real world. In all his time working with Control, he had yet to attempt this until now.

Something deep inside him wanted to comfort Mya. Turning to face her, he found her slumped down in the bucket seat. Mya’s conflict was evident. Fear, pain, and other emotions etched her face, which he didn’t have enough experience to recognize on sight.

Trying to hide his excitement, he smiled down.

“Mya, please do not fear. In a moment, you’ll hear a lot of loud noises. Remember, you are safe with me. I’ll protect you from danger.” The look on her face showed how confused she was by this. In a loud voice, he declared, “Those who wish for peace, prepare for war…”

Deep within Archon’s mind, he heard the signal he’d been waiting for.

Confirmed. Authorization code accepted.

A grinding whine shook the vehicle, telling him the carrier’s ramp was closing. A higher-pitched whine ground within the ceiling.

He knew if he tried to explain what was happening to Mya, he’d miss his window. There was no time for that. He awaited Control’s response.

Secondary response needed.

With a smile that stretched ear to ear, Archon said, in a loud voice, “Bring the rain…”

31

Flint

With each passing second, the glass became harder to see through as wave after wave of bugs collected on the other side. Flint knew if he let go of the door, they’d spill in, and he’d be done for. That much was clear to see as the foul things pressed just a little harder against the glass. Unsure what to do, he searched the area for something to drag over and hold the door closed. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning toward it, he found nothing but some ivy vines that hung from floor to ceiling.

Then Johnathan’s warning resounded in his mind.

Spotting a fallen chair in a pile of random debris, he reached out to snag it with his foot. A slithering sound was barely audible over the rising hiss. Then the vine closest to him came to life, sliding down onto the floor.

He couldn’t believe his eyes; it was exactly what his father and Johnathan had been talking about. Glancing from the bugs, then the vine, back to the bugs again, he found he was trapped. With every glance, the plant crept a little closer. At the rate it was slithering across the floor, he had only seconds left before it grabbed him.

A sharp pain radiated up from his foot. Yelping loudly, he looked down to find a small group of cockroaches swarming on his side of the glass. The bugs had forced their way under the bottom of the door. His concern only grew. Between the bugs or the ivy, he was unsure which was more dangerous.

Flint was boxed in. Realizing he was out of time, he reacted on instinct. Using the door for leverage, he propelled himself away from the wall. Before his feet even landed on the ground, an ivy vine smacked against the glass where he had been standing. Scrambling, the door scraped open under the weight of the swarm. Sprinting around rotted debris, coiling vines, and blown-out walls, he threw himself forward with reckless abandon.

Swiping at his ears to fend off the flying attackers, he searched for a way to escape. The hissing only grew as slid to a stop. He found himself in a room with only one way in or out, and the bugs had followed him in. Flickering light drew his eye to a far wall. The dancing light moved behind a layer of dirty glass. Knowing it was his only chance for survival, he ran at the glass with everything he had. Reaching out to grab a piece of metal debris, he raised it above his head. A second before he hit the glass, he brought his weapon forward in a mighty swing.

Jumping headfirst through the shower of glass particles, he felt a vine grab him by the ankle. Diving forward into a roll, fearing it would stop him, he slipped out of its grasp. He rolled out onto a mossy pathway right in front of the campsite. River, Elen, and Johnathan saw him and got up, though they were little more than colorful blurs as he hit the ground.

The world swam. Flint tried to get his bearings. Strong hands grabbed him under his arms. Rising with help, he was relieved to see his father’s concerned face staring back at him.

River’s voice was full of dread as he asked, “Son, what the hell? You call this relieving yourself?”

A sharp barking laugh burst from Flint’s lips. “Not exactly? I can explain…”

He couldn’t help thinking his father had always had such bad timing with his wit. Half walking, half being dragged along, he quickly filled the group in on what was happening.

Instead of showing fear, River nodded, taking in the information. As they reached the fire, River informed him of the plan.

“Get near the fire. Grab a flaming stick and hope to hell. Back-to-back now, like we taught you…”

When Flint was a child, his father had drilled him on things like this. Remembering how silly he had felt doing those exercises, he found he no longer resented them in this moment. Grabbing a stick from the fire, he took his place between Elen and Johnathan. He pressed his back against his dad’s.

The insects boiled out of the hole in the building in a large pool of undulating darkness. The swarm swept across the ground like a hunting beast, stopping short of the smoke and flame. Flint watched over his shoulder as the bugs swept the area, wrapping around the campsite, slowly enclosing them. The small fox skeleton stepped out of the building, just like a general might step out to inspect his troops. Its mouth opened and filled the air with that ever-growing hiss.

Flint stared at the hive, straight in its beady red eyes, unsure if it could see him. Then the pool of insects pulled back. Fearful comments filled his ears. Ignoring what was being said, he prepared for the attack. It would either be him or the bugs; there was no other way. Crouching low, he reached out to grab a second stick with his free hand and waited for the fight to start.

A whine slowly built over the hissing bugs. This new sound was so high in pitch that it rapidly became painful. He twitched his head to dislodge the painful sound, and it abruptly cut out. The sudden silence was oppressive.

The fox hive lifted the end of its muzzle up toward the sky. The snapping of vines reached our ears. Sunlight suddenly shone down into Flint’s eyes. Reflexively dropping his sticks, he held his hands up to block his face. The light was painful after so much gloom.

The entire world felt like it was holding its breath. Then something exploded in front of their camp, sounding louder than thunder. The world went totally silent as Flint’s ears bled. The pressure wave that followed knocked him off his feet and tossed him about like a child angrily throwing a toy.

He didn’t have time to ponder what had happened as gravity reasserted control. His entire world became upended as he bounced painfully across the ground. He was grateful when he skidded to a halt. Heat followed, licking the edges of his fur as another blast wave tossed him a second time, causing him to roll a little farther.

Head spinning, he felt disconnected from the world. With every breath, a new vibration shook the earth and heaved him with it. Darkness scraped across the edges of his vision. His vision swam as his head rattled about, and darkness at the edges of his vision closed in fast.

He rolled to a standstill. Lying on his back, he had a good view of what was happening above them. Thin, long sticks ripped through the ivy to pound into the tops of the towers or land on the street below. He tried to understand what he was seeing. Where the sticks landed, everything became fire. Exploding outwards, a cascade of falling debris fell earthward.

Pressure blew gray dust into the air around Flint, and vibrations ran through his chest. A sharp wind cut through the gray haze. Another explosion illuminated the ground not far off. He watched in horror as the top of one tower broke off and fell. Turning away, he braced himself as the wind whipped angrily around him and the debris hit.

It just wouldn’t end.

Easing himself up onto his hands and knees, he tried to find his footing. His balance was off, and the shaking ground didn’t make things any easier. As he stood, he tried to call out to his dad. Fear flooded him when he couldn’t hear his own voice. The only sign he had that he was yelling was the feeling in his chest. Pawing at his ears, something tumbled down the side of his face. Flinching, he felt relieved when it was accompanied by a tiny sound leaking through to him.

New explosions reverberated through the air above and on the ground around Flint. Raising his hands to protect his face, waves of dust swept past him from every direction. Coughing until he finally cleared his throat, he yelled out into the dust for his companions. Stumbling forward, his search for his companions was soul-crushing. More whining sounds cut through his deafness seconds before new explosions went off. He begged to any sky people above who might listen. He couldn’t be the only survivor. Pushing those thoughts aside, he forced himself to move forward.

With the wind constantly changing direction, grabbing hold of any scent was an almost impossible task. Each time he thought he caught a whiff of Elen, Johnathan, or River, another wave of dust whipped the smell away. Stumbling through the debris wasn’t easy. He encountered a soft object that shifted and groaned, stopping him in his tracks. Leaning forward with his hands, not trusting his eyes or sense of smell, his fingers scrape across the dusty leather.

Feverishly, he pulled up the form at his feet. His pang of distress when he realized it was Elen and not his father horrified him.

Reaching down, he carefully picked up her small form and brought her to his chest. He could feel she was still breathing, but when he whispered her name, she didn’t respond. Holding onto her as if she was the last flickering flame of hope in this nightmare, he pressed on into the gray dust storm.

“Johnathan? Father? Where are you two? Are you alright?”

Trying to remain vigilant, he continued his calls while listening for any reply. Having worked side by side with the village metalworker, there were some sounds one never quite forgot. One of those was the sound of metal being bent beyond its capacity moments before it snapped. It was a subtle sound, a dangerous sound—and one that Flint heard now. His head followed the noise.

A shadow burst from the gray haze. It tackled Flint, sweeping him off his feet. He landed hard, with Elen lying on him.

The world crashed down around him. Another wave of gray dust obfuscated whoever had just saved their lives. The stranger’s hands didn’t give him time to catch his breath. Yanked to his feet, Flint was half dragged as debris rained around them.

When things stopped falling out of the sky, he dug his feet into the ground. This prevented the stranger from pulling him any farther. Fighting to suck in air, the dust clouds caused him to choke and sputter. Spots flashed in his eyes, bright against the gray dust—or was that something shining out there, illuminating the dust cloud around them?

Flint had had enough. Grabbing the stranger’s arm, he pulled him close. To his great relief and surprise, his father stumbled into view.

River looked to be in bad shape. A thin film of blood obscured the left side of his face. Covered head to toe in dust, his old jacket was ripped in multiple places. Flint watched as his father ran a dirty arm across his mouth, leaving behind a gray blob of sweat-dampened dust.

Pulling him close, Flint slammed his father into his chest. Holding him tight in a one-armed bear hug as the tears came.

“I thought you were dead, Dad!”

When his father pushed against his chest, he let him go. River grabbed his arm. Moving as one, the trio advanced through the haze together. With his father leading, Flint was able to focus on his surroundings. He could hardly see anything, but his hearing was slowly coming back. When the attack finally stopped and the whining died down, it became easier to navigate the shattered terrain. With the explosions gone, the sound of debris falling, and metal creaking echoed across the ruined city.

The dust seemed to lighten over time. Bright shafts of sunlight filtered down through the gloom. The air was still thick and hard to breathe, but Flint found it much easier on his lungs the more he moved. A thick cough echoed in front of their little group. When his father tried to take them in the wrong direction, Flint redirected him toward the sound.

Walking was difficult, not being able to see the ground. He found his feet hit less debris the closer they got to the coughing. The cacophony of rocks and glass shifting caused him to whip his head up to spot the danger. It was an exercise in futility. That sharp, deep cough drew his attention back toward the ground.

Following his ears while half-dragging his father, he found Johnathan. The old man was huddled behind a pile of debris.

The sound of debris shifting drowned out any attempt at talking. Looking up, Flint caught movement from the corner of his eye. When Johnathan’s hand clamped down on his arm, he yelled out in pain before being jerked forward.

Flint staggered into a run. With Johnathan grabbing him by the arm he was using to hold Elen and his father pushing from behind, they created a dysfunctional chain and aided one another across the uneven terrain. The ground shook under them, and Flint’s feet struggled to find purchase. Debris rained down as they ran forward with abandon. He found he was running fast enough to drag Johnathan behind him. Every time Flint tried to move in a new direction to navigate around a fallen piece of debris, another tumbled out of the dust to impede his progress.

The ground stopped shaking. The sound of falling debris died down. Slowing to a jog, then a walk, he eventually stopped. The gray haze was back, making sight impossible. Flint smiled when he realized they had made it.

Walking out of the gloom, Johnathan stood next to Flint. The old man looked awful; as badly beaten up as the rest of them, but with injuries magnified by age. Something about him put Flint on edge. The old man looked sad and withdrawn.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt, Johnathan?”

The old man refused to meet his eyes and instead shook his head while staring at the ground. Pointing behind Flint’s shoulder, he listened to Johnathan’s sorrow-filled voice.

“I’m so sorry, kid. I know he would’ve wanted it this way. He pushed you out of the way of some debris as it was falling.”

Flint turned to find his father so he could ask him what Johnathan was talking about, but River wasn’t standing where Flint expected him to be.

Handing Elen to Johnathan with shaking hands, Flint walked into the gloom to search for his father, ignoring the old man’s concerned calls.

32

Johnathan

It had been hours since the bombardment and the dust was finally settling. Whoever had done this had used old-world technology, and that spoke of nothing but trouble in Johnathan’s view. Searching his memories, he tried to come up with someone he could have pissed off badly enough to cause this.

He ran aground on a simple, chilling thought: Could all this have to do with chasing after the poor girl?

If that was even remotely true, what made her so special?

Shaking his head to clear the absurd thoughts, he turned to Flint. The poor kid looked grief-stricken, bloody, beaten, and defeated. Not that Johnathan could really blame him. Having a father die was hard even in the best of circumstances—not having a body made it worse.

Scratching the back of his neck, Johnathan attempted to sound as calm as possible.

“Look, kid. I’ll ask you again, okay? Do you think you’re able to rip these vines open? If you can’t, we might have to do something more drastic to find a way out.” Watching Flint unclench the hands covering his face enough to stare at him through his fingers gave Johnathan a little hope—until he saw his eyes. A chill ran up his spine at the sheer anger he saw there. He’d hate himself later for this, but he had to keep Flint focused. “Your dad gave his life to save you. We got this far together, so you have a choice. We can give up on Mya and head home, or we can continue and try to save her. How do you wish to repay what your father gave you today? What option will you choose?”

The low growl that emanated from Flint made Johnathan step back. Even more concerning, it only grew in strength. Maybe he’d pushed the kid too far. He looked at Elen’s slumped form. She was way out of arm’s reach if he ended up needing one of her flintlocks, so he knew he’d have to be careful. Hoping Flint wouldn’t attack him for what he’d just said, he stared him in the eyes.

When Flint turned his angry gaze to the wall, Johnathan breathed a tad easier. It was an old memory, but he had seen what one of the wolf tribes could do in a fight. Today was not the day for a repeat of those events; he had no wish to experience them again firsthand. It was a shame he’d never get to ask River how he and Flint had become family. Johnathan had never heard of anything like that happening before. Maybe one day he’d be able to ask Flint about it. But not today.

Flint lashed out at the ivy wall. Grabbing large handfuls of intertwined vines in his paws, the kid ripped at it ferociously. When that wasn’t enough for him, he used his jaws to tear at the green barrier. Ivy vines flew in all directions, and it was clear he needed to take his anger out on something. Bending down to focus on Elen, Johnathan tried to give the kid time to work out his anger.

Eyes roaming across her small form, he couldn’t find any sign of serious damage. He’d inspected her a few hours ago as well and found nothing seriously broken. But she hadn’t woken since then, which was a bad sign. Hearing Flint roar in anger drew Johnathan’s attention—and he couldn’t believe his eyes.

The ivy Flint was ripping away was trying to move, trying to replace the damaged areas. For each hole Flint opened, another stitched shut. The ivy moved slowly, almost lethargically from what Johnathan had seen before, but it still impeded the process. The kid was clearly not taking things well, as he brutishly attacked the ivy even harder as each hole closed.

Tapping his chin, Johnathan tried to come up with options, fast. The kid looked like he was about to go berserk and start attacking anyone or anything around him. An idea popped into his mind, but it was a risk given Flint’s current aggression. After looking down at Elen, he realized he had nothing to lose.

“Kid. Kid!”

Flint barely twitched at hearing his voice, but Johnathan pressed on.

“Try to make a hole large enough for us to get Elen through. How about we start with that? If that works, I can wiggle my way through and maybe help pull you to the other side. That sound okay?”

Flint roared loudly in reply. Bringing his jaw down on the vines, he ripped mouthful after mouthful from the mass in a fury. Johnathan was left wondering if the kid had even heard him. When Flint’s hands came up to slash at the same area, it gave him hope. Flint’s clawed foot came up and braced itself at the base of the hole he was ripping open. Using the foothold, Flint raised himself up onto the vines. It looked like he was using all his strength, weight, and savagery. It was clear to Johnathan that the kid was making a dent in the greenery.

Reaching down, Johnathan manhandled Elen onto his shoulder. Bent over, he waddled over to stand next to Flint. Vines, leaves, and sap were flying everywhere. The vines’ attempts to mend themselves just appeared to further enrage Flint. The kid would roar, his anger growing faster than the greenery itself.

A stray thought hit Johnathan as funny: We could have made bank doing this before the collapse. We could have been gardeners.

Elen’s weight suddenly disappeared off his shoulders, leaving Johnathan lurching. Steadying himself with one hand in a panic, he peered up and saw her held in the kid’s large hand. Her limp form looked so small and fragile in his grip. Despite his rage, Flint gingerly pushed her through the gap to the other side.

Glancing at the hole then back at Flint, Johnathan asked, “You ready for me, kid?”

Flint’s arm wrapped around his waist before he could protest. Feeling uncomfortable as his feet left the ground, he had little time to think about this odd predicament. Hoisted into the air, he watched as the world spun.

A sharp impact forced the air out of his lungs as Flint’s hand pressed into his stomach. Johnathan could feel his butt hanging in the open air. Then the creepy feeling of something slithering across his back and thighs.

Looking at the kid, he could see the unthinking rage that swam in the kid’s eyes. When Flint opened his mouth and roared, Johnathan flinched as he was sprinkled with saliva. Closing his eyes, he twisted his head away from the loud noise. Flint’s hand exerted pressure, pushing him through the hole until only his legs and feet remained on the kid’s side.

Given how old Johnathan was, he had fallen a time or two, but tumbling backward from that hole was a unique experience he’d never forget. Opening his eyes, he watched the ivy wall retreat from his perspective as gravity had its way with him. Feet in the air, he tumbled headfirst to the ground below.

He struck his head, and his consciousness fled from him like a fish slipping through his fingers. Flint’s ragged breathing, growling, and roars sounded as though they were coming from far away. Opening his eyes, he watched the world swim before settling into place.

Above him, Flint’s fury was reaching its climax. The rage-filled roars came quicker now that he and Elen were out. Fighting to get to his feet, he twisted around to get his bearings. The city continued for a few more blocks before melding with the forest’s edge. Turning back to the wall, Johnathan screamed at the top of his lungs so that Flint could hear him.

“Kid! Keep fighting. I’m going to get you some help. I’m going to start a fire on this side!” A gray-furred hand burst from the ivy and stopped centimeters from Johnathan’s face. Recoiling in surprise, he almost lost his balance as he stepped back from the grasping hand. It was Flint’s arm; Johnathan watched as the kid dug his fingers through the ivy from the other side. His teeth burst through the space above his arm, gnawing at the ivy. Shaking off his panic, Johnathan laughed hollowly. “Okay, if you prefer to do it that way, fine by me.”

Every movement hurt. He rushed to Elen and quickly stripped her of her flintlocks. Holding one in each hand, he pointed them at the ivy wall. He hoped his aim was good enough to not hurt the kid as he tilted the flintlocks sharply down and yelled out, “Flint, here comes some gunfire! Careful so I don’t hurt you.”

Squeezing the triggers at the same time, the flintlocks’ recoil nearly took his arms off. The guns flew out of his hands and landed with a clatter somewhere behind him. But his efforts weren’t in vain; two large holes had been blasted through the ivy, causing it to buckle and sag. Flint’s arm stopped its struggle and pulled back into the other side of the wall.

Feeling stunned by the gunshots, Johnathan barely registered Flint’s roar before the weakened area between the gunshots exploded in a confetti of ripped vines. A gray, blurry form came rushing out from within.

Johnathan jumped to the side as Flint hurtled past him. For what felt like the first time in a long time, he took a breath and felt the absence of anxiety. They were out.

33

Johnathan

“Kid, I know you’re angry, but I’m an old man and I need help to carry her.”

Elen’s unconscious form lay in the undergrowth at Johnathan’s feet. Putting his hands on his knees, he rested, his ragged breaths loud in his ears. Smiling to himself, he had to admit Elen was heavier than she looked. The thought of what she would do to him if he spoke said it to her face caused him to chuckle. That was one thing women tended not to want to hear, and he had a bad habit of not keeping his mouth shut. His chuckle died in his throat upon hearing Flint growling nearby.

The kid’s tall form bathed him in shadow. Johnathan shivered, and not from the cold. With a sweep of the kid’s arm, he picked up Elen as if she was light as a feather.

It was clear something was wrong with the kid, but Johnathan didn’t even know where to begin. He had just lost his dad, after all. He made a mental note to himself to tackle that problem at a later time.

Standing up with a groan, his body popped more than usual. If he kept this up, he wouldn’t need to fake a back injury for much longer. As Elen flopped around in Flint’s arms, Johnathan fell in behind him. Given what they had just gone through, Johnathan wondered who between them might win a beauty contest for most ragged being in the party.

Johnathan reached into his pouch, hands searching for some time to find the correct texture. Pulling out an old map, he held it in front of him and squinted at the lines scrawled across its surface. The map was possibly older than he was, but it had aged far better than him.

Far fewer wrinkles…… figures.

Fine lines ran across the stained paper, outlining city blocks and roadways. Roughly estimating where he thought they were, he ran his finger in the general direction they were now moving.

“Kid, if I’m right, we should hit a road here soon. Let me know once you spot it, okay?”

Flint grunted at him, which had him questioning the kid’s state of mind. It was the way Flint was walking…… even his movements were different from before. More savage, unhinged. A stalking presence. He hoped that by the time they got to wherever it was they were going, the boy would be back to his old self.

As the trees thinned, Johnathan felt hope growing. At a great cost, they’d achieved their goal of bypassing the main road and shaved off days of travel. Without help, the kidnapper who had taken the girl would be coming around the bend in a few hours. A good place to redirect Flint’s anger if ever there was one.

Stepping onto the road was both a blessing and a curse. The wind blew and a hollow, metallic tinkling sounded across the pavement, drawing his weary eyes to it. Bullet casings littered the area, rolling around with the wind. Sighing to himself, he wondered when they might get a break.

“Kid. We need to stop. Elen needs rest and so do I. I know you’re still angry, but even you need rest after what we just went through.” Not expecting much more than a grunt, he was pleased when Flint nodded in his general direction. “How about you set Elen down and go fetch some sticks, huh? I can pitch the camp. You up for that?”

Hearing Flint growl had him questioning if requesting the kid’s help was even a good idea. Flint placed Elen gently on the ground before walking back into the forested area. Breaking out the last remaining bedroll that hadn’t been shredded during the city’s bombardment, Johnathan worked to make Elen comfortable.

When he finished, he wandered toward the far edge of the road. Meandering up a small hill, he looked for dry wood to fuel the campfire. Once his arms were full and he was ready to head back, he noticed something so shocking he dropped the wood.

Two deep tracks lay pressed into the soft soil at the base of the hill. From his vantage, he could see they led to the edge of the forest where the grass turned to desert. Beyond, the sand stretched for leagues. Swearing, he stomped back to camp. He found Flint working to build a fire. That effort conjured a small whisper of hope in his chest. Nodding thanks, Johnathan rummaged through the few remaining supplies that had survived their hectic escape from the city.

Removing the last pile of their meager rations, he sighed as his eyes fell on a stitched leather bag hidden in the bottom of his backpack. A deluge of complicated emotions hit him: guilt, anger, frustration. Beneath all that was remorse.

He lifted the leather pouch in his hands. It was heavy, even if that was mostly emotional weight. Sitting back on his knees, he looked at Elen’s sleeping form with dread. Turning to Flint and their fledgling fire, he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Using his gnarled fingers to search the leather, his hands came to a stop when he found the rough-sewn seam.

Without looking toward Flint, he directed a question at him. “Kid, does Elen have anyone special back home?”

Flint paused his work. He turned back toward the fire to find the kid walking toward him. Eyeing Flint as he kneeled down in front of him, he noticed the kid wasn’t watching him but the pouch in his hands.

In a rumbling, growl-filled tone, Flint answered, “Yes.”

Nodding resolutely, Johnathan turned back to the seam and forced it open. With the pouch ripped open, an old-world device he had hoped he’d never have to see again lay on his lap. Even after all these years, the bright-orange shell of the gun had never cracked. Two cartridges lay next to the orange casing.

It might be our only chance to help Elen.

He popped the loading cylinder on the flare gun and placed a cartridge in the tube. With a flip of his wrist, the tube clicked shut. To Johnathan, it sounded like the lid of his own coffin sliding shut.

Locking eyes with Flint, he held the kid’s gaze. In a tone that was deadly serious, he said resolutely, “If this works, people will show up. You are to do everything they say. Promise me that. We need to get help for Elen. She needs medical care we cannot provide. Can you do that for me, kid?”

With a sharp nod from Flint, Johnathan swallowed. Raising the gun into the air, he pulled the trigger. He flinched as the red flare flew high into the sky, pondering how much time he had left with these two. It was with surprise that a feeling of peace settled over him. The realization that he might soon trade his old life for Flint’s and Elen’s brought him solace.

Flint nuzzled his shoulder, causing Johnathan to turn and give the kid a sad smile. He hoped with all his heart that luck would be with them today.

34

Johnathan

It happened shortly after the sun went down. Johnathan didn’t hear them, but he wasn’t surprised when a compliment of seven people appeared out of the darkness dressed entirely in robes. Using the old hand language he had learned ages ago, he greeted the small group.

They must have been informed what the flare meant, as they all looked a little uncomfortable. Using quick hand gestures, he tried to make things clear to the robed people.

I have called you here for a peaceful purpose. I request parley. There is one among us who is wounded and needs help. I will pay. I know what I owe.

Johnathan found out that it was wrong of him to direct the sign language at the tallest in the group when the robed strangers turned to their smallest, who led them in signing back and forth. It was hard not to notice that they kept their hands hidden by their robes to prevent him from reading what they were saying. He had always found body language a great tell in any situation, but not this time. Their active attempts to obfuscate their reactions left him in the dark as to their intentions.

Minutes passed, and still they were not giving many tells. For all appearances, it looked like there was an argument between the group and their leader.

Patience won out when the leader finally turned to Johnathan and signed to him, We hear your request. My people will take you to our night home.

Sighing with relief, Johnathan felt like the weight of the world had been taken off his shoulders. The apparent leader pulled three clear bottles from within their robe, and each bottle had a small piece of wood as a stopper. Johnathan signed frantically, wanting to make things very clear to these robed people.

The boy and I can take those as a precaution. But the woman, the small, leather-clad one, is already hurt. She has not awoken for over a day. If she dies, are you ready to pay the price? I asked for a parley, so if she dies…

He let his hands drop, refusing to continue. It was too painful to think of what might happen. Calling these people to help, only to have their own actions kill Elen? It would be just his luck. Staring straight at the leader, it felt like a silent war was being waged between them. It startled him when a memory of the staring contests he used to have with his daughter surfaced in his mind, but he kept his features calm and forestalled the smile itching at his lips. The leader didn’t break eye contact. Finally, they tossed two of the vials in his general direction.

Carefully catching them in one hand, he looked across the fire to where Flint slept. Standing up, shoulders slumped, he stalked toward the boy with silent footsteps. Popping the wooden stopper, he upended the bottle over Flint. A thick liquid drizzled over the kid’s lips. It didn’t splash, but pooled there, soaking into his fur.

Johnathan let out the breath he was holding only when Flint reflexively licked at his lips before turning over to fall into a deeper slumber.

Stalking back around the campfire, he was overly aware of the seven pairs of eyes watching his every movement. Easing himself down carefully, he held the remaining bottle in front of the fire to show everyone it was still full. Pulling it to his mouth, he bit down on the wooden chunk, keeping the bottle closed. Spitting out the stopper toward the seven watchers, he tipped his head back and let the liquid fall on his tongue. When he was done, he glared at the leader. Hands moving swiftly, he tried to get his comment out though his mind felt foggy.

Remember, I asked for parley. The god’s eye is watching from…

Darkness enveloped him so deeply he didn’t feel it when his body slumped to the ground.

35

Flint

Flint raised his head groggily, working through his mental fog to understand where he was. Last thing he remembered was lying down, but as he raised his head and came to, he realized he’d already been sitting up.

Weird.

Pain throbbed in his shoulders, and the skin under his fur on his wrists felt raw. With the slight movement, he felt needles jabbing through his hips. Flexing his legs, he found they were crossed, like he was in a classroom back in his village. Despite the mental haze, he could tell that he was in a new place—something was pressing against his back, resembling a small tree, yet more flexible. Refusing to open his eyes so as not to give away that he was awake, he took slow, deep breaths and tried to gain an understanding of his surroundings with his nose.

The first thing that came to his senses was the distinct smell of sweat, tinged with a coat of dust. The body odor was overwhelming. It was pungent, like it had been building up, trapped in a small, hot space all day. As his brain sorted through this information, he noticed the air was hotter than he recalled, as if he was sitting near a fire. Certain odors were familiar. He picked the old man and Elen out of the various scents.

Daring to open his eyes, he was unprepared for what he saw, however, also unsurprised. The surrounding area was shadowed by what appeared to be a cloth covering. Twisting his head, refusing to allow the cramps in his neck to stop him, he confirmed he was in a spacious tent. Three flimsy poles jammed into what looked like dust or sand held up the canvas. No, there was another pole—and someone had tied him to it. He flexed his shoulders. Twisting his body provided the expected reaction as the canvas above twisted and pulled against his movements. Closing his eyes, he sighed.

After giving himself a moment to allow the mental fog to clear, he opened his eyes again to look around. Twisting his torso as much as his bound hands would allow, he discovered Johnathan’s bound legs lying almost directly behind him.

Biting his lip, he tried to move his right leg, and then his left. Needles jammed through his legs at the movement, but the pain quickly receded as blood flow helped ease the muscle cramps. He shifted his weight onto his legs, moved his butt back and forth, and slowly rotated around the pole he was tied to. When his foot accidentally brushed against Johnathan’s boot, he got a reaction.

“Kid? Is that you? Did you just wake up?”

Even with the slurred words, the old man’s voice was easy to recognize. Opening his mouth to reply, Flint found his throat dry as old bones. Swallowing several times to get his saliva working, he tried again.

“It’s me. I’m awake. Where are we? How did we get here? I don’t remember much from after we were attacked—”

A croaking laugh came from Johnathan before he could continue. “Attacked? Which time? Oh… my bloomin’ head.”

The more the old man talked, the easier it was to understand him. It felt like the fog was stripped from Flint’s mind, only to allow yesterday’s horrors to wash over him once more. Muzzle trembling with emotion, he bit down on his lip until his breathing settled.

“Old man… where is Elen? I haven’t seen or heard from her. Is she okay? Last thing I remember is picking her up during the attack on the city.”

A deep silence followed, making Flint feel like he was missing something. It was almost a relief to hear Johnathan’s voice again, except his comments held dark connotations.

“Kid… there are times when you make no sense to this old man. Sure, you went through hell the past few days, but I figured your blooding would’ve helped you learn to control that other side of you. Maybe it was River’s death. I can chalk it up to that, but people your age tend to be more in control than you were. You need to check yourself before you hurt someone… The way you were going…”

Flint struggled to understand what Johnathan meant. He had heard that term “blooding” before, a long time ago. Elen and his father had argued about it when he was a kid.

“I don’t—

Johnathan cut him off. “Look, I made a deal. Do as I said. Take Elen and do not look back. Make this journey worth it. Make your dad’s death mean something and find that girl of yours. When they come—and they will come—do not resist. Just go with them. Answer any and all questions they have for you. I will make sure you two will be okay. You hear me, kid? You will be okay… so long as you do what I say.”

Struggling, feeling like he had just entered midway into a conversation, Flint opened his mouth to voice a question when a violent wind blew against the tent sides, causing the taut fabric to vibrate violently. As if called by the wind itself, a section of the tent opened to expose the daylight. He was forced to squint at the harsh light as two robed figures entered with knives drawn. Seeing that, he twisted back and forth to free himself. He refused to die here without a fight.

His questions tumbled from his mouth, fear lacing his words. “Who are you? Where are we? Why did you tie me up? Where is Elen?”

The two robed figures advanced in silence, when Johnathan called out once again.

“Remember what I said, kid. Do as they ask. Answer all their questions and you will be okay.”

One of the robed figures stopped in front of Flint as the second one moved to his right. Wrenching his neck, he struggled to watch what the one walking behind him was doing. His bonds snapped, and Flint slumped forward; his body was refusing to move despite being released.

The two strangers grabbed him by the arms and, none too gently, helped him to his feet. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw Johnathan was still bound, a brown bag covering his face. As Flint was dragged out of the tent, he swore to himself he would see Johnathan alive and free again. He promised he’d do whatever it took to make that happen. He refused to lose another loved one.

The bright light outside blinded him, but his two helpers refused to slow. Stumbling forward as his eyes adjusted, he worked hard to take in everything around him, storing the information for later use.

The thing was, nothing here looked even remotely familiar to him. Mostly it was sand, sand, and more sand. Collections of tan tents clustered together in small groups in a way that felt like a pattern, but he couldn’t discern what that pattern was. The only thing that varied in the terrain were the worn, damaged buildings listing at odd angles far off in the distance.

Squinting, he studied his two companions and tried to get a sense of who they were. Each had their entire head covered; dark eyes peered out from the shadowed interior. They varied slightly in height, but seemed no different from an average human. In the end, he came to the resounding conclusion that they gave away nothing.

Trying a different tack, he cleared his throat and said, “Hello? My name is Flint. What’s yours?”

The robed figure on his left didn’t appear to hear him, or else ignored him completely. Turning to his right, he tried again, but received the same reaction.

Suddenly, his two companions let him go. Falling heavily to his knees, he looked up to find a new—smaller—robed figure standing before him. Something about this new individual was different. There was a quiet strength that radiated off them. Unsure how to handle the situation, he did the only thing he could: open his mouth and jabber away.

“Please let me go. I mean you or your friends no harm. My only goal is to find my friend Elen and collect Johnathan from where I was being kept and leave this place peacefully. Will you please let us leave? I’m trying to save someone who got kidnapped several days ago.”

The only sound that followed was the wind blowing across the desert. After all he had gone through, Flint felt like this was a dead end.

Everything we’ve sacrificed to save Mya has amounted to nothing.

Those thoughts lit a fire within him, something wild and angry. The fur on his arms prickled, and his mouth felt full, causing him to swallow several times to clear it.

Then the wild beast inside him whispered in his ear: If they won’t answer you, drag it out by force.

Before he could lurch to his feet to do that, the small, robed figure’s arms moved. Two callused, weathered hands came together, forming pattern after pattern. Each lasted only an instant before the fingers changed direction or bent to form a new pattern. The patterns were hypnotic, and his anger slowly left him as he watched the fingers dancing before him.

It couldn’t have lasted more than a few moments. Blinking, he found the robed figure’s hands back within their robes. The two robed companions who had dragged him here bowed and left. Flint watched them go, and a shiver passed through him as he realized they had made not a sound the entire time.

An old, dusty male voice brought his attention back to the one in the robe before him.

“My name is Dane of the People. Who are you, stranger?”

The robed figure before him had a twisted tone to his voice that Flint wasn’t used to, and he had to piece together what he’d said before answering.

“My name is Flint. I’m searching for a young woman who was taken from my village, and her captor. Have you or your people seen anyone that fits that description come through here recently?”

Dane stared at him in silence, and it made Flint nervous.

“I mean you or your people no harm. I just want to leave here with my two friends to find the one we’re searching for. Is my friend Elen alright? She is the small gray-furred one in the leather jacket.”

Dane carefully brought his hands up to pull away the wrapping covering his head. Flint wasn’t surprised to see an old man’s face revealed in the light, but this appearance shocked him. With skin like old leather, scars marred the man’s features, creating a texture like curdled milk. Then there were his lips. Cracked and ashen, they looked ready to bleed at any moment. Behind those parched lips were sharp, blackened teeth that contrasted with puffy red gums.

Forcing himself to meet Dane’s hard gaze, Flint found rheumy eyes staring back at him, aged and wise. Dane’s voice cut through the silence in a manner that cowed Flint. He wanted to obey him, even though he hated himself for feeling that way.

“Well met, Flint. Yes. I know your female, and the Ghost Walker. Follow me and we shall talk…”

During their slow walk around the tents in the camp, Flint shared anything and everything the man asked about. Dane had a grandfatherly feeling to him that drew out his respect like a moth to the flame. When Flint found himself talking about his father and the pain of his loss, Dane supported him through it with small, comforting comments. When the words ran out, they had walked a ways outside of camp and stopped. Flint took a moment to admire the ruins that poked up through the sands of the desert. A comfortable silence settled over the moment before Dane finally broke it.

“You are quite the warrior to survive all the things you have encountered. Take heart. Your friend Elen is being tended to by our healers. When she can leave with you, you will be free to go.”

Flint looked toward Dane but found his face inscrutable. Looking out at the ruins, he thought about how to respond.

“Thank you… I know my companions will be happy to continue toward our goals. We can’t risk taking too much time here, or we might lose the trail of my best friend’s kidnapper.”

Glancing in Dane’s direction, he was confused to find the old man scrutinizing him. He opened his mouth to say something, but Dane cleared his throat, cutting Flint off.

“Companions, plural? You have more than just your hurt friend?”

Flint scrunched up his brow.

“I’m traveling with Elen—the hurt one—and Johnathan. The man in the tent you had tied up next to me earlier.”

Dane shook his head. Looking directly at Flint, the old man spoke with the first harsh tone he’d used since their meeting.

“There is only your hurt friend, and the Ghost Walker. The Ghost is no one’s friend. Especially not yours. He is not free to leave as he has a debt he owes Dane of the People… a debt that was passed down to me.”

Flint’s ears twitched, expressing his discomfort. Watching Dane’s face relax after such a harsh comment, he asked, “What did that old man do to you?”

Dane shook his head. “Not to me. It’s a debt passed down to me because of the Eye of God.”

The old man pointed up, drawing Flint’s eyes to the blue sky before the old man continued. “If you wish to understand, wait until we have our gathering tonight. Until then, you are free to roam our camps freely. But do not free the Ghost Walker if you value your life.”

36

Flint

Torches lit the night, creating an ambience that was captivating, yet at the same time dangerous. Packed at the edge of where the torches drew a line around the sandpit, everyone in the tribe sat watching Dane, who stood in the center of it all. Even with the hoods, Flint couldn’t shake the feeling that most of the tribe was looking in his general direction.

When Elen had come out of one of the many tents and sat next to Flint, he’d had a flurry of questions that she refused to answer, other than she was doing better. To his other side sat Johnathan, unbound but looking remorseful. No matter how much Flint tried, the old man refused to smile.

Two hours later, he found their silence worse than the long wait for moonrise. Dane’s voice drew everyone’s eyes to him when he finally said, “I am Dane of the People.”

Flint watched as all the robed tribe members nodded.

“We do not talk for fear of the dust that steals one’s voice.”

Once again, the tribe nodded.

“I was given the hardship of being the speaker due to my travels out in the wastes, and so I come when the People call. We are here to judge a debt that was placed upon us in ages past. Will you witness this time of judgment?”

As one, the tribe members around the sandpit nodded at once. To Flint, this experience had a powerful ritualistic feel to it. There were undertones of deadly seriousness to the whole thing that left him uneasy. He turned to Elen; she looked stricken and refused to meet his eyes. Going by experience, she was either hurting or worried about something. Turning to his last option for any information, Johnathan sat looking far too resigned for his own good. Something about this didn’t feel right at all, but unsure what to do or say, Flint turned back to watch.

“The Ghost Walker is with the People again! Before the time of memory, he came here, saying he was here to help our tribe. The Ghost Walker said he would make it where our ancestors could grow food no matter the great season. Our ancestors would always have the Eye of God looking down and providing for us.”

Watching Dane turn around in a slow circle, looking out at the audience, it felt to Flint like he was looking directly at him when his eyes passed by. His words were so captivating, Flint impatiently waited to hear more.

“Now our God burns us! Kills us with the dust that burns… And yet he still walks. Unharmed. Unhurt by our God. As your tribe’s speaker. I am here to remind the People of the Ghost Walker and the harm he caused to our people. The Eye of God will judge this Ghost by our people’s own hands.”

Flint turned to Johnathan and found the old man impassively accepting all that had been said. Dane’s voice drew Flint back into the story as he continued, “As Dane of the People, I ask you all a simple question. Who will be God’s hand to judge this manipulator? Who will poison your hands with the blood of the one who so harmed us?”

Silence ruled the night. As Flint’s eyes roved across the tribe members’ faces, he found all eyes focused on Dane. No one moved, frozen in place, as if in a trance. Five sharp pinpricks lanced through his thigh, digging in hard. Yelping, he looked to his assailant and found Elen’s gray furry fist gripping his leg. A quick glance at her face told him all he needed to know. Stressed creases were showing across her muzzle. Her ears were laid back, her eyes closed to slits.

He pried Elen’s nails out of his thigh, and it was startling to see she didn’t notice what he was doing. Placing her hand in her lap, he turned to Johnathan to ask about what he was missing, but the old man’s eyes could have been boring holes into the ground. Shrugging, Flint came to realize that between Elen and Johnathan, he was pretty much on his own tonight.

Turning back to Dane’s display, he was surprised to see a new figure standing there. Slightly taller than the old man and by far not the largest individual in the tribe. The slight figure gave Flint the chills.

Dane grabbed the robed figure’s arm and raised it into the air above his head. Then the clapping started, and Flint’s eyes flew to the tribe. Every single one of them was clapping quietly. Given how quiet everyone had been up to that point, the sound was incredibly loud.

Dropping the robed figure’s arm, Dane turned toward Flint and his friends. As the old man walked slowly, painfully in their direction, his gait held all the warmth and comfort of a funeral. When he stopped before Johnathan, Flint’s head whipped back and forth between the two old men. Dane looked down at Johnathan, but the scavenger only had eyes for the ground.

His voice rolled out loud, with a resigned quality that made Flint’s fur ripple nervously. “Everyone has got a time and a place. Mine has been a long time coming. Guess this is it.” Flint was shocked. He couldn’t believe what Johnathan had just said, what it implied. In a casual, easy-going voice, Johnathan continued, “Would you mind untying me? I promise not to make a fuss. I owe you so much more than I could ever provide. Please know I’m deeply sorry for you and your people.”

With a sharp nod of Dane’s hood, the speaker turned his back on Flint and his friends. Hood turning this way and that, his deep voice asked of the tribe members watching, “Is there anyone among us who will defend the Ghost Walker?”

No one moved. A slight wind blew sand up in the center of the pit, dusting the robes of the waiting figure. It was clear no one had any intention of helping.

With a growl, Flint surged to his feet.

“If you speak of my friend Johnathan, I will defend him.”

Elen’s small hand gripped his hard, and Flint looked down at her. She frantically shook her head. The look in her eyes stabbed him in the heart. It held a fear so great he was unsure how to interpret it. He glanced at Johnathan, but the old man simply shook his head. For the first time tonight, their eyes met, and the old man clearly wasn’t happy. Before more could be said or done, Dane’s voice pulled everyone’s eyes to him once again.

“We have a warrior willing to put his life on the line for the Ghost Walker. May the Eye of God judge his life worthy above.”

Dane turned to face him. Reaching out, the old man pulled him into the center. As Dane walked away, Flint looked at the robed figure standing next to him, then back to Dane.

He cocked his head. “What does he mean—”

His ribs burned with pain as the fur and skin there split in a wide line, cutting off his words. Spinning around, he barely had time to grab the robed person’s arm as it stabbed again, knife flashing in the moonlight. Jumping to the side, away from the thrust, Flint used his aggressor’s movement to his advantage.

Swift, long strides bought him some time and space between him and his attacker. Inspecting the fresh wound, he saw it wasn’t deep, but it hurt and bled badly. Frustration swelled as he realized the old wounds had almost been healed, and now this. Stretching his arms out wide, he took quick steps back as the robed figure came in slashing.

Yelling as loud as he could so everyone could hear, Flint said, “I don’t want to hurt anyone! I’m only here to get help from your tribe. Why are you trying to kill me?”

The sandpit went quiet as his attacker paused, and Flint’s ears twitched as he picked up on Johnathan’s sorrowful voice.

“Kid… it’s a blood debt. They were supposed to kill me for my mistakes. You challenged them, so now that debt is on your shoulders. It’s kill or be killed.”

Flint looked back at Johnathan in disbelief. Before he was even able to formulate something to say, a sharp hissing sound escaped his lips as the blade raked across his ribs. His head snapped back as the knife came down, arcing near his muzzle. A growl built within him, but he fought it. He had no idea why he was growling—he wasn’t angry, and this robed figure was no enemy of his.

With each swipe of the blade, he slowly lost control. The robed tribesman came in hard with a series of fast jabs. Crouching down, Flint placed his hands on the sand. As the knife came closer, he rolled to the left, moving farther into the middle of the sandpit. Slash after slash arched left, then right. The blade came up from below and Flint was forced to lean back. When his leather vest was nicked by the knife’s point and tore open, he lost it.

His father had given him that vest.

He’d been struggling with his rising anger, and that single action had blown away his restraint. The robed figure used a downward strike, and Flint rolled to the right. Instead of coming back up onto his feet, he kept rolling until he’d created some distance between him and his assailant. Saliva dripped from his muzzle. Lips pulled back from his teeth. The sound of the clapping fell away, replaced by a loud growl.

He was ready this time as the blade swung. With his right hand, he reached up from below and grabbed his assailant’s wrist. When they tried to pull their arm back, Flint lunged forward and tackled the attacker. Lifted off their feet, the slight person fell hard onto their back. Jumping up, Flint brought his knee down on his assailant’s shoulder. There was a loud snapping sound.

He roared into their face. While keeping hold of the arm feebly gripping the weapon, he reached up and grabbed hold of the hood to unveil his attacker.

A woman’s scared face looked up at Flint with horror-filled eyes. Black hair cascaded down onto her robes. Her big blue eyes went wide as Flint bent down with his mouth open. Teeth resting on her soft white neck, his prey went rigid as his teeth pricked her skin.

Johnathan’s voice broke the silence that had descended on the group.

“Stop! Stop it now! Flint! Stop… please. You have won. Leave the poor woman alone. Let them kill me. Do not take someone’s life. You do not want that on your hands.”

37

Johnathan

To Johnathan’s experienced eyes, it felt like he was staring down a lifetime of mistakes. His mistakes. Radiation burns marked Dane’s face like a brand. Still, as old as he was, compared to Johnathan, the man just looked tired. He was struggling with the fact that Flint had just bested the People’s Champion.

As Dane cut him free, Johnathan could only guess how the man was feeling. To have the speaker himself cutting him free said more than any words could have expressed. Trying to preserve the man’s tattered dignity, Johnathan avoided his eyes and stared at the ground instead.

“Your warrior has won… and yet he dishonored our tribe by not finishing his kill. Your hands once again bring dishonor to the Eye of God.”

While Dane’s voice sounded hurt, there was an edge of concern to it. Johnathan finally looked up. Sighing, he scratched the back of his neck to buy some time, while also avoiding Elen’s gaze. Unsure of what he could say to make this situation easier for everyone, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“The eye of your God is not angry at you. It’s angry because your people suffer under its gaze. Maybe you could move your tribe to more fertile lands? Then you could—”

The glare Dane gave him cut his words off. He didn’t press the matter; he knew when to cut and run, so he just nodded and tried to change the subject.

“Is there anything my friends and I can do for your people before we go? There are always things your tribe needs. Please… let us help you if possible.”

The resolute look in Dane’s eyes softened a little. The old man was showing just how tired he felt—speaking for his people was no easy task. Turning, he walked toward a tent set away from the other tents in the camp. No matter how many years went by between visits with the tribe, it always surprised Johnathan to see how stubborn they remained.

Easing himself up off the ground, he ambled his way over to Flint. The kid looked like he was a little more in control than earlier. Maybe once they were away from here, he would finally have the big talk with the boy. Placing his hand on the kid’s shoulder, it was hard to miss the scared look in his eyes.

“Kid, it’s gonna be okay. You didn’t hurt anyone seriously, and no one died today. That’s a win in my book any day.” Flint’s solemn nod had Johnathan smiling. “Now, don’t tell Elen I said this, but it feels sorta lonely over there with just her for company. Mind joining us? Personally, I think she likes you more than me right now. Mind helping a poor old man out?”

Flint’s barking laugh, followed by a swift nod, sealed the matter. Walking back with the kid, Johnathan noticed Dane was heading back in their direction holding something long, round, and hollow. Once he and Flint took a seat on the sand next to Elen, Dane stood before them.

Taking a deep breath, Johnathan asked, “Dane of the People, what can my tribe of three do for your tribe? How may we help honor your people?”

It was clear as the desert night that Dane was nervous. He moved his small hands, ruffling a rolled-up piece of paper he carried close to his chest. Watching the speaker peer back over his shoulder for his tribe’s support, the man had the look of someone torn over what he was about to say.

“The horse people kidnapped many of our tribe a few seasons ago. What you see of here now is all that remains of us.”

Nodding, Johnathan added, “Yes, your tribe is far smaller than I remember it. Sad times have come.”

Dane couldn’t meet Johnathan’s eyes. Still, the man had an inner strength far greater than Johnathan thought possible as he continued, “We have an old-world scroll here that tells of something that might help. A treasure we might trade in exchange for our stolen people. If you, Ghost Walker, can find it, we would be in your debt.”

Shaking his head, Johnathan quickly responded before the poor man could say more.

“Look, I have done enough damage to your people. If there is a way I can help, I will do it. And you will owe me nothing for it.”

For as deadpan as Dane had been throughout their stay at camp, it was hard not to notice the surprise he showed upon hearing his words. The single man who had single-handedly done so much damage to his people if history was something he could believe, was now begging to help fix things.

“I, Dane of the People, implore you, the Ghost Walker and your tribe, to find for us the chariot of living metal that contains three hundred horses caged within it. We feel that if we could—

“Excuse me?”

Johnathan blinked in surprise.

All eyes fell on Elen. She was clearly uncomfortable, given her outburst. To Johnathan, it looked like the poor woman was chewing the inside of her mouth due to nerves. Given what she had gone through on this small trip, he found he couldn’t fault her for her outburst. Moving his eyes from Elen to Dane, he did his best to pick up the pieces before things turned bad.

“Pardon my feisty tribe member. What she means is that she wouldn’t feel right not helping you out after everything you have done to help her heal.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elen look away from Dane bashfully when he bowed in her general direction.

Trying to keep the conversation moving, Johnathan continued, “So, uh… you want a living metal chariot ‘with over three hundred horses’ trapped inside it? Um… that is… Given the size of something like that, it surprises me you have not found it yet.”

Dane shook his head aggressively. His dusty voice held a touch of reverence when he said, “We have not found it yet because all the living metal chariots we have found have not had the horse mounted on the front of them. The living metal chariot we are looking for grows from a plant. Like in this picture.”

Dane unrolled the scroll for all of them to see, and Johnathan eyebrows rose into his hairline. Displayed on the old-world poster that Dane held before them was a vehicle with a horse emblem mounted on its grill. The picture made it look like it was jumping right off the page at them. The vehicle was bright red, with a blonde woman behind the wheel; it was an image of beauty if Johnathan had ever seen one.

Above the vehicle was the word MUSTANG in blocky black print. Below that, a mess of smudged words. Squinting, Johnathan tried to make out what it said, but found few words decipherable even with his old-world knowledge. To Dane’s credit, Johnathan found the place the text had an ‘m’, a few smudges, and ‘plant.’ Even to his experienced eyes, it looked like the information was trying to say this old-world machine came from a plant.

Jaw dropping to the ground, Johnathan exclaimed, “By gosh! You are right! It does grow from a plant of some sort.”

38

Johnathan

Johnathan refused to look at Flint. Nothing he’d said to the kid had calmed the boy down. Watching Flint pacing was going to drive him nuts. Elen was no support; he found her glaring none-too-happily at the kid. Sighing, he turned to the entrance of their tent.

Elen broke the silence. “How long are we gonna wait around here doing nothing? This was your bright idea. So, what do we do now?”

He clenched his jaw. The indignation in Elen’s tone was hard to miss. Meeting her gaze, he was about to say something when light spilled over his shoulder as the tent flap opened and closed. Flint paused his pacing. Elen glanced past Johnathan with a questioning look, and he turned to meet their guest.

Dressed in the head-to-toe robes of the desert tribe, it was impossible to guess who was standing there. The tribesperson stood there, refusing to budge. Then they removed their hood.

Johnathan’s eyebrows rose as he recognized the face. Standing before the three of them was Flint’s assailant from last night’s fight. The woman’s pale skin, large brown eyes, and long dark hair that swept against her robes were hard to forget. Johnathan couldn’t believe his eyes when the kid hugged the woman.

Johnathan smiled as he said, “Well, I guess that shakes things up for us.”

When Flint finally let go of the slight girl, it was clear to Johnathan she’d enjoyed the experience. Flint beamed as well.

He was excited when he said, “After the fight… Once I calmed down, I found her and we… talked. Er… more like I did the talking. Right?”

The woman nodded, and Johnathan wanted to believe the kid had had good intentions, given he had a good heart, but he was far from world-wise.

“So, as I was saying… last night she and I met up after our fight and I explained everything that’s happened to us. I told her about Mya and how we’re chasing her. That’s when she drew a drawing in the sand and…”

Johnathan noticed the woman brightened when Flint spoke of the drawing. She went down on her knees next to the boy and pulled one sleeve back so she could recreate the drawing for them. While subtle, his experienced eyes noticed the small lumps that ran down her arm. They appeared completely random—as random as you’d expect from a bunch of tumors. It was this place. If their little group was unlucky, they would suffer the same fate soon enough.

As Flint jabbered, Johnathan watched as the drawing grew in detail, even though the canvas was sand. The woman had seen an old-world vehicle at some point, and if he had to guess, a large one at that. His stomach curdled as thoughts raced through his head. First the robots, then the attack on the city, and now this? What else lay in store for his small group?

Thinking of how Elen and Flint talked, it was clear they would never give up in their quest. It was easy to see how much they cared for one another. The way Elen constantly looked after Flint in small ways. The way Flint became more excited, the closer he thought they were getting to his poor girl.

Johnathan had a bad feeling about this trip, and not for the first time. Turning back to the woman, he found her staring directly at him.

With swift hand movements, he asked her a question he dreaded asking.

My friends and I cannot travel the desert on foot. If we go around, it will take many days or weeks to travel the same path. Is there any way you can help us? Flint saved your life. I know what that means to your people. You owe Flint a life debt.

Johnathan held that last symbol with his fingers until they cramped. It appeared to him the woman was thinking about what he had said. A pang of guilt hit him hard in the gut, but this wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to manipulate someone for the greater good. He just hoped it would be his last.

The girl signed, I will bring you transport. Meet me north of the camp by the seventh dune. Leave now. I will meet you with help.

Nodding, Johnathan’s eyes narrowed as the woman wrapped her head and silently left. Turning to his companions, he interrupted Flint’s rambling. He had to get them moving.

Exiting less than a minute later, they moved with haste as silently as possible. Despite the sun high in the sky, a cold sweat broke out across his skin—a clear warning about how scared he was that Dane might discover their plan. Sweet words were just that, and Dane of the People had said enough of them the night before. It didn’t mean the reality was very different. Johnathan tried to convince himself it was all going to work out, but he had seen too much to believe it.

Leaving the last tent behind, they picked up their pace. He found himself lagging, but not by much. Given the age difference, he tried not to be too upset by it. By the fifth dune, his breathing sounded like bellows. By the sixth, Flint came back to help him struggle to the top. On the seventh and final dune, Johnathan slid down, even though sand dirtied the back of his shirt.

Avoiding his companions’ gazes, he tried to get his breathing back under control. No one dared say anything as they waited. Johnathan jumped when two horses and a single rider rounded the dune in a thunder of hooves. Holding his hand to his heart to keep it from jumping away, he looked at Elen and Flint, finding them both smiling at the new arrival. Upon getting off their horse, they signed.

I have brought the horses. You are still the Ghost Walker that taints my tribe. There will be consequences… but my life is a minor price to pay, should it come to that.

Johnathan was about to sign back when Flint engulfed the poor woman in a bear hug.

Not realizing he was such a hugger, Johnathan smiled as he patiently waited for Flint to back off before responding.

I am sorry I have put your tribe in this position. More than that, I am sorry to have endangered you. Remember, my friend, not taking your life is a testament to who he is. You should never forget that. Taking a life can never be undone.

The response was terse, and Johnathan guessed that if he could have pulled the cloak back, he would find an angry glare pinning him to the spot.

So says one who has killed so many of my tribesmen through his own actions.

Johnathan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It hurt to find himself once again in a situation he couldn’t smooth over with sweet talk. Still, he tried to give the woman a hopeful send-off.

May you live a long life.

The woman nodded and signed, As long as yours?

Pursing his lips, Johnathan signed back, No. I would wish that on no one.

The woman cocked her head oddly.

“Let us depart. We are wasting time. Get on the horses and ride. Elen, you can ride with me,” Johnathan said.

Walking purposefully past the robed tribeswoman to the horses, Johnathan couldn’t help but smile when Flint said, “Wait, we’re supposed to ride them? But I’m scared of horses!”

39

Archon

Archon jerked awake. The sound he had been waiting for echoed throughout the carrier. Beside him, Mya’s eyes were wide as she looked around the inside of the vehicle. He was half tempted to tell her they had finally arrived, but wanted to surprise her. Leaning back in his seat, he waited patiently as the main gate ground open to let them through.

The floor tilted, causing Mya to gasp, and Archon smiled. The vehicle drove down the ramp to the main hangar before the floor evened out. It didn’t take long for the engine to go silent, and Archon unbuckled himself to stand up.

Mya’s voice drew his attention. “What’s going on? What happened to the loud noises?”

Almost on cue, the metal gate ground closed. From the sound of the gears, he realized he would’ve to ensure maintenance attended to them before he was sent back out into the world.

Looking down at Mya, he smiled and said, “My dear, as soon as that red light over the door flashes green, we’ll be home.”

Raising a finger, he pointed at the two lights mounted above the doorway. A ding rang through the interior, informing them that the hangar was safe to enter, followed by a green light flaring.

Leaving Mya to unbuckle herself, Archon moved to the door and hit the ramp button. As the door slid open and the ramp extended down, he went about preparing his specimens’ transfer. Silently watching his spiders walk off with the specimens, Archon double checked everything they had to do here and found they were done. Everything was falling into place.

When Mya joined him at the door, he looked down at her and asked, “Are you ready to see your new life? This is just one of the many places I’ll teach you about the past.”

Her face blossomed into a huge smile, and he felt a pang of discomfort. Confused, he tried to figure out why he felt that way, but Mya’s question prevented any further thought.

“Is this really where you live? This is where I can learn about the past?”

Cocking his head, he nodded.

Sweeping his arm out to encompass the area, he said, “My dear, this is but one of many places of research. But yes, you’re correct. This is where I live when not out on some tasks for those I work for. I’m sure you’ll come to know them soon enough. Who knows… together, you and I might actually save this genetically polluted world.”

Mya’s smile made him uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. He would’ve to ask someone about these feelings that had been cropping up lately. Shivering, he started down the ramp to distract himself.

Everywhere his eyes fell was a reminder of what they had lost. Three rusted metal lumps sat where there had once been carriers, now just husks of their former selves because of the cannibalizing of parts. The facility had seen better days.

Leading the way through the hangar, he watched Mya’s head swivel about, trying to take in all the unfamiliar sights. Every time she pointed at something; he answered her questions concerning some arcane technological device. She was astounded again and again by the brilliance of construction around her. The process quickly became tiring, and he was happy when they arrived at the entrance to the showers.

Keying in his personal code on a keypad mounted beside a thick metal door, he heard the locks disengage. He led Mya to the side of the door and wiped the dust off a metal plate, exposing the images painted on it. They were instructions of what to do in the event of a biological containment breach, including a simple map of the facility and visual examples of emergency actions. He explained it to Mya and made sure she understood its importance.

“Now, dear, what do you do if you see the lights in the bunker turn from white to red? You put on your biological warfare suit. That way, you stay protected against any danger.”

“I understand.”

“Good. After you shower, you’ll need new clothing. I’ll take care of that while you tidy up, okay?”

Mya nodded.

40

Flint

Hot wind flowed through Flint’s fur. Despite the temperature, it thrilled him. The ride had been difficult and long, but he was finally getting the hang of it. Now a few hours in, he was getting over his fear of horses, cuing the beast below him to speed up. At first, he’d grabbed onto the poor animal so hard he accidentally pricked its skin. The horse, in turn, threw him off. He wasn’t sure who had been more afraid, him or the horse.

Now that they were working in tandem, things felt so natural.

“Remember kid, you gotta hold on with your thighs, else you’ll find yourself in trouble again.”

Johnathan’s carefree voice brought Flint back from his reverie. Smiling, he nodded, then realized the old man in front of him couldn’t see him. Laughing, Flint pressed his knees against the horse’s ribs and extended his arms out to feel the wind as the horse sped up.

Soon he was riding alongside Johnathan and Elen. He glanced over to see the old man enjoying himself as well. Elen, on the other hand, looked sick to her stomach as she held on to Johnathan for dear life. The old man looked happy enough, though, and that was good enough for Flint.

Closing his eyes, he laid his head back and let the wind ripple the fur along his neck, his ears flapping wildly. It was then he swore he heard a voice, but it was hard to hear anything over the wind. Looking over at the old man, he followed Johnathan’s pointing hand. Quite a distance away, there was a rippling pool of water, out of place amid the sea of sand. Curiosity won out, and he directed his horse away from the group.

Ignoring Johnathan’s calls, he rode for several minutes but the water wasn’t getting any closer. Looking over his shoulder and searching the route he’d been riding, he found Johnathan and turned back toward him. His horse was panting, so he commanded it to slow down; he didn’t want to hurt the poor thing.

To pass the time, he counted the seconds it would take for Johnathan and Elen’s horse to run behind one dune then appear on the other side. While that kept him entertained, it didn’t grab his attention for long. Focusing again on where he was going, excitement rose as he saw a ruin that poked up out of the sand. Instead of veering the horse around it, he homed in on its location.

As the distance closed, something hit the back of his hand. Looking down, he saw a wet spot there. Reaching up, he also felt a wetness around his eyes. At first, this confused him. The closer he got to the ruin, the more he was reminded of the city where they’d been attacked. Choking sobs racked him suddenly, and he struggled to stay on the horse. Reaching down with two hands to get a firmer grip, he rode out the emotional moment the best he could.

Memories of his father took him. One moment it was a happy memory, the next, it was his father’s last moments, scrambling away from the bugs. Wiping his nose on the back of his arm, he didn’t pay attention as the horse slowed and eventually stopped. He bawled loudly, letting all his pent-up frustration out. This wasn’t the mindless rage he was slowly getting more accustomed to, but a blind, hurtful rage of loss. Screaming at the heavens until his throat hurt, he found it all coming out instead of staying locked away like he had wanted.

When there were no more tears, he slid off the horse and fell to his knees on the rocky sand. Pounding his fists on the ground stirred up blooms of dust which the hot wind blew away. He was about to scream again when something caught his attention, distracting him.

Lying on its side, a building made of soft rock sat half submerged in the sand. It looked older than old, and to call it a ruin would’ve been very generous. After what he had seen in the city of tall towers, this was nothing spectacular—until his eyes found what had drawn his attention. At the end of the farthest edge of the building, it appeared as though someone had scorched the soft rock black in places until it melted.

Sniffing, trying to keep his mind off his father, Flint searched the ground. Finding a good-sized rock, he threw it with all his strength at one of the building’s broken-out windows. He watched the projectile fly, then bounce off a few things inside. Before the noise had settled fully, his ears picked up on a flurry of movement within.

Oh heck.

Leaping to his feet, he mounted the horse and slapped it like Johnathan had taught him. The animal clearly didn’t like that, as it reared back, and Flint held on for dear life. They started off at a gallop, and the building was almost behind them when a flock of glittering flashes burst out of the ruin in a long stream. At first, he thought it was another skyborne attack and swiftly brought up a hand to protect his face as the small objects flew past his head.

Flowing out of the ruin was a flock of small birds with iridescent wings. At least Flint thought they were birds—he had never seen anything like them before. Their wings had long, translucent membranes, while their feet were small and tucked into their body. To add to their strangeness, they had a small, rounded head with two long feathery ears. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve taken them for bats.

The flock surpassed him, flying straight in the same direction he was riding. Once the creatures had gained some distance on him, they dove to the ground in a clump that was easy to follow since their wings’ luster was reflected on the ground. Curious as to what might happen, he sped his horse up and prepared to run straight through the flock.

Buoyed by a sudden urge of inspiration, he drove his mount through the iridescent patches of birds, startling them. Within moments, a massive swarm danced around him. When fatigue set in, the birds landed in small patches on the sand before alighting again. This went on for some time, Flint disturbing the flock into motion as he laughed.

While this had been fun, he reminded himself he needed to get back to Johnathan and Elen before they worried. Riding in the general direction that he’d been moving, he left the flock behind him. Leaning back, and panting, he spread his arms out to out to catch the wind; it felt great.

Out of nowhere, the horse under him shimmied and almost threw Flint off as it swerved to the left. Holding on for dear life, he looked around to find out what might have startled it. A sound rent the air like breaking glass. He couldn’t tell exactly from which direction. There was a haze in the air behind him. Such an effect had been going on for hours now, and Johnathan had told him it was just a heat haze rising off the ground, but this didn’t seem to be the same—it was coming down from the sky. Then the heat haze moved.

If he hadn’t worried about the heat haze before, he certainly was when one of the iridescent birds flew up into it. The small creature collapsed in on itself and its wings caught fire moments before its body burst with an audible pop. Its remains fell to the ground, burning. As he watched, more of the birds flew into the heat haze, drawn by instinct or some other fatal interest.

He’d seen enough for his liking.

Urging the horse into motion, he looked back, and to his horror, found the desert itself ablaze. There was now a wide area being carved into the ground, and it was following him. Trying to gauge the size of the area burning, he guessed it to be at least twenty-five meters in width—easily large enough to cook him and his mount. Turning around, he laid his body against the horse’s and chanted, “Faster… Faster… Faster…”

The first change he noticed was that he was getting warm pressed up against the horse. It hit him like a hammer blow when he realized he was wrong—it wasn’t his stomach getting warmer but his back. Twisting his head back and forth, he feverishly looked for where Johnathan and Elen might be. As they came into view, they were sitting astride their own mount, watching him. Not sure if they could hear him, he rose—despite the worsening feeling of heat—and waved his free arm frantically. It soon became clear they weren’t getting the message, so he pressed himself against the horse again and raced forward.

The first actual sign of trouble was when the horse lurched. Its breathing became labored, its body heat was steadily rising. He felt bad for the poor animal. Looking for some help, he took minor comfort in seeing Johnathan and Elen racing to intercept him. A small part of him hoped they weren’t being chased like he was, but another part of him wished they could take on the burden of this heat for a moment or two so he could cool down.

His mount lagged. Racing the poor animal for all it was worth, his breath caught the moment he saw tall grasses in the distance. This desert apparently had an end. He could only hope the heat chasing him wouldn’t breach the boundary point.

Johnathan caught his eye and yelled, “Ride, kid! Ride like the wind. Those things should have vanished a long time ago. If you have anything reflective, lose it now. Just leave it behind.”

Unsure what the old man was talking about, he looked past him and saw tall green grass slowly encroaching on the sand. Hoping it would provide safety, he pointed toward it. Johnathan noticed what he was pointing at and turned toward their haven.

Time moved at a glacial pace as they tore across the desert, the massive wave of death following. Glancing back, he saw the heat wave had gained on them. Near him, Johnathan outpaced him—the rhythmic hoofbeat of Flint’s horse was faltering. He worried that even if Johnathan and Elen made it, he wouldn’t. The air felt hotter every moment. He didn’t have any choice but to dig his heels into the horse’s flank to push the animal harder.

“Just a little further. I can see the ground rising away from the desert ahead. Hang in there, kid!” Johnathan’s assurances did little as they raced along.

All at once, they were galloping over the grass and out of the desert. When the heat dissipated, it was surprising how much better Flint felt. A breeze blew in from the south, cooling the fur on his back. His mount slowed its pace, and the tension eased out of Flint’s muscles.

“I told you we would make it, kid. It shouldn’t be much further now.”

Dismounting, Flint stretched, while the wind cooled his fur, panting furiously as his tongue darted in and out like a snake. The sound of someone retching had Flint looking back at Johnathan. He was patting Elen’s back as she got sick.

Turning his back to give her space, Flint let out a relieved sigh. Deep inside, something shifted. It felt like his goal was now within striking distance.

41

Johnathan

Slapping his mount on the hindquarters, Johnathan watched as the horse raced off with its partner. Turning away from the desert, he glanced at Elen and Flint. It was comforting to see those two lying around in the grass, cooling off in the breeze. Leaving them be, he inspected the area. The ruins in the desert had clashed with his memories of the area from an earlier time. A cityscape full of beautiful, pristine buildings flashed through his mind, conflicting with the remains of today. Shaking his head, he looked to the ground and went to work at what he did best—tracking.

There were signs of small animal life all around, but he ignored that—he wasn’t here for them. Though if they found they needed food… that’d be a different story. Moving slowly and precisely so as not to accidentally mar any traces of whatever had carried the girl away, he rounded the bend and found what he’d been looking for. Pressed into the ground were two tracks so deep they had killed the grass, creating twin channels of packed dirt.

Placing his hands on his hips, he took a moment to think out loud.

“Great. More walking. Better get a move on before we lose the light.”

Walking for the last few hours in silence was killing him. Johnathan was used to being alone, but it was awkward when no one talked while he was around, and it was wearing on him. Elen had been giving him the stink eye every time he tried to strike up a conversation with her, but to be fair, she was looking a little worn. The poor girl had gone through hell—not that he hadn’t experienced the same.

Feeling a tad guilty, he wondered, not for the first time since starting this long trek, if he shouldn’t have given his two companions more of a heads-up about the desert. If he had given more information, he might not now have the appearance of being dragged behind a cart for a hundred feet or so. Johnathan couldn’t help but wonder what he must look like, let alone smell like, right now. Taking a quick whiff of his underarm, he regretted it immediately. As soon as they found fresh water, the first thing he was going to do was take a bath. A long bath at that.

Trying to ignore the stench he was inflicting upon the world, he continued down the trail they were following. For the last few hours, it had been rising through gentle hills. Only an hour ago, they’d entered a small valley that cut between two sheer cliff faces. When the trail led down into a shallow forest, he questioned if continuing to follow it was a smart thing to do—it was a clear ambush spot. Unsure what else to do, he halted.

“Stop,” he grunted. Neither Flint nor Elen heeded his call. So, he raised his voice. “I said stop! Before going any further, we need to talk about what we’re going to do when we find the people who took your friend.”

Elen turned first, but the look she gave him could have curdled milk. She wasn’t in the mood to talk. Directing his gaze at Flint, the kid appeared like he felt the same way. Sighing, his shoulders slumped forward. He eased himself down onto the grass in between the dirt tracks. Crossing his arms, he watched and waited to see what the other two would do.

Elen sat down almost immediately. She wasn’t up to going much farther today. Flint walked off farther down the tracks. Several minutes passed before he trekked back.

“I found it! I found where these tracks lead,” Flint said, excitement filling his voice.

Johnathan put his face in his hands and sighed.

42

Johnathan

Johnathan was looking right at it yet still couldn’t believe it. An armored door loomed over their little party, casting a long shadow. But it had no right to be there. He swore he’d been through this area before. Everything seemed so familiar… but he knew he’d never seen anything like this door. It was clearly old, given the rust and wear, but it might as well have been new in his eyes.

Flint was fidgeting anxiously, while Elen wore a look of disbelief that Johnathan was sure he shared. He placed his hands on his hips.

“Well, we sure found something. This is where the tracks go, but how we are supposed to open something so massive? I have no clue.”

Facing the metal wall, he tried to do some quick math in his head.

Given the height of the thing stands about two stories tall.

Following the edges to where they abutted the cliff face, he had to guess it was at least thirty meters wide per section, if not larger.

Looking at his boots for a moment, his brain changed gears and tried to come up with some idea of how to let them down easy. Raising his head, he turned around. As he was about to open his mouth, Flint and Elen’s eyes went wide when a heavy grinding noise shook the ground.

Closing his eyes. Suppressing a sigh, he turned to face the gaping hole before them. Flint was already heading down into it, Elen hot on his heels. With a shrug, Johnathan jogged to join his friends. He couldn’t help thinking this was all going to turn out badly, though a part of himself wondered what type of old-world things they might find within.

As he walked down the long ramp leading into the cliff, the light quickly dissipated. By the time the ground evened out, their surroundings were pitch-black. Blindly groping for the flashlight he’d found earlier in the ruins, his hands stopped as bright-red lights flashed to life. Their strobing illuminated the massive hangar around them. Holding a hand up, trying to blink to get his eyes to adapt to the unexpected light, his mouth dropped in surprise.

The underground room wasn’t just a hangar, it was the size of a small village. Probably bigger than the one they’d departed from. The ceiling reached up into the darkness beyond perception. While that was all well and good, what was even more impressive were the machines standing in their bays. There looked to be about four vehicles left. Each stood at least two stories tall, with tires easily six meters in height.

Walking over to the closest vehicle, he recalled the tanks and military vehicles he’d seen in old books. The machines here had the same mean look, with flaking olive-green paint and hard angles. Upon closer inspection, the machine in front of him had been sitting there for some time. Dust pooled under the wheels. Rust on the welds and gaps spoke of countless idle years.

“Hey, I think I found a way in!”

Flint’s voice echoed throughout the cavernous area, calling Johnathan’s attention. He made a mental note to come back here later and see what parts he could scavenge from this place. It was a treasure trove of old technology that many people could use to better their lives. Trailing a hand across the pitted, rusted metal surface, he walked toward Flint, a shiver of excitement running through him.

He found Flint and Elen inspecting a doorway. Two metal doors that swung in barred the way. Neither of them appeared to have touched the doors just yet, as they still looked dusty. Crouching down, he found it was hard to tell if anyone else had gone through this way lately. Elen and Flint had already left behind a mess of tracks that obscured any prior activity here.

He inspected the doors himself, but couldn’t find anything that looked like a booby trap. Nothing hoisted above them that might fall when they touched the doors. The only unusual thing he could find was a keypad that sat on a wall to the left. It had number keys and a green light glowing brightly despite the ruddy-red lights silently flashing throughout the hangar.

Shrugging his shoulders, he placed a hand on each door and pushed.

The cold metal doors opened without a sound. When he stepped through, the doors swung shut behind him, leaving him standing in a long corridor. Doors lined either side of the hallway, which traveled some distance before turning to the left. Intervals of white lights were set across the ceiling. Round red lights flashed, interspersed along the side of each wall. Flint and Elen entered behind him, and together they moved deeper into the hallway.

The closest door was metal, like the doors they’d just come through, but when he tried the handle, it refused to budge. In the silence, a loud click echoed from behind his small group.

Johnathan whipped around to face whoever was assailing them.

Someone definitely just cocked a gun.

However, there was no one there. A keypad to the left of the doors they had entered through had a glowing red light, unlike the green one on the other side. With a sinking feeling, he walked past Flint and Elen to try the doors.

They wouldn’t budge, no matter what he did to them. He stepped back to let Flint take a crack at it, not expecting him to succeed. Once Flint, exhausted, tried everything he could—including trying to get his nails into the cracks at the edges of the doors to pry them open—they were left with only one option.

“Well, folks. I’m sorry to say, but I think this old fool fell for the oldest trick in the book.”

Elen’s frosty look didn’t help their predicament. Flint, on the other hand, looked unsure for a moment, then just smiled. It was good seeing the kid act like that, the goof. But then his jaw clenched, and Johnathan was about to ask him what was wrong when the kid suddenly crouched down.

In a blur of movement, Flint raced past him. Johnathan turned to follow his progress. He hit the end of the hall, then turned and disappeared around the corner. Turning to Elen, Johnathan found he was just in time for her snarky remark.

“Great! First you get us locked in, and now the hardhead races off. What’s gonna happen next?”

Johnathan almost told her off, but gunfire echoed down the hallway. They ran together toward the bend in the hall but dropped to the ground as bullets slammed into the wall nearby. Smiling, he found his heart warmed when he realized they were fighting almost like a family at this point. Even though he had to admit most families didn’t argue when getting shot at, but it was not outside of his experience.

Stopping short of the corner, he eased his head around the bend. Blinking, he swore he was seeing a ghost at first. One of the robot spiders they’d fought days ago sat in front of two metal doors at the end of the long corridor. He chided himself for his stupidity. If the ones they were chasing could call down an artillery strike, why couldn’t they have more robots?

The robot’s focus appeared to be trained on a doorway halfway down the corridor. He just hoped the kid had made it in there and was safe. Mind racing, he tried to come up with a plan of action. He turned to share what he had seen with Elen, but her sharp claws dug into his leg, making him wince.

She leaned out from behind the protection of the corner like he had, her face was stricken with fear. The sound of gunfire started up again, and Elen whipped her head back. Chips flew off the walls, and the ceiling was peppered with bullets.

He held his hands to his ears to keep out the worst of it, then gave up. Reaching down, he grabbed the back of Elen’s jacket and walked them back down the hallway. She fought him the entire way.

She stopped the moment he kneeled next to her and yelled, “I have an idea of how to blind the robot. If I do that, do you think you can shoot it from around that corner over yonder?”

With time being of utmost importance, they couldn’t stop to deliberate. Elen nodded. Yet he saw the fear in her eyes.

He was afraid, too. What if this plan went horribly wrong? What if he got blood on his hands once more? How many more loved ones could he bear to lose?

He shook his head. He knew he had to try something. Reaching into his bag, he found the thing he hated, but was necessary for his plan to come to fruition. Opening the chamber of the flare gun, he loaded the one and only round he had left. Clicking it closed, he looked at Elen, and they nodded together.

Her flintlock rested easily in her hand, but he saw her trigger finger trembling and tears brimming in her eyes before she looked away. They robbed him of his voice. He knew this was a bad plan. But what else could they do? Try all the doors under a hail of gunfire? Miraculously find one that was open and led all the way around the robot so they could attack it from behind?

Ridiculous. They were out of time.

Rising to his feet, he eased his way along the wall and stopped at the corner. The cold metal tube of her flintlock rested against his thigh. Glancing around, he turned back to look down at Elen. She nodded grimly. He raised three fingers to count down.

Three.

Two.

One.

Johnathan propelled himself into the middle of the hall. Knees shaking, his feet slid before he skidded to a halt, staring straight down the hallway at the barrel of a machine gun. He pointed his flare gun at the robot. The mechanical beast had yet to see him—it was unleashing hell against a wall halfway down the corridor.

He yelled at it with all he had. “Hey, your mom was a bombastic piece of scrap!”

The robot did little other than twitch and pivot on its turret. That was the opening Johnathan needed. Squeezing the trigger, the flare shot forward in a tail of red flame. Jumping back behind the corner, the displaced air of the bullets whipped his hair as he moved. Landing hard on the floor, the sound of gunfire changed.

Before he could do anything else, Elen ran out into the corridor. She rushed forward and disappeared from sight.

Crawling across the floor, Johnathan pulled his head around the corner in time to see Elen point and fire.

The gunshot that followed was deafening. It wasn’t the sound a flintlock made when fired.

Eyes locked on the robot, he saw that Elen had been a tad too late. She was already moving, the charred remains of her shredded flintlock sprinkling the air. Scuttling into a doorway, the robot went back to firing. This time, though, the bullets raked against one wall and then the other. It was keeping Flint and Elen pinned, each secluded to their own doorways on either side of the hall.

Johnathan pulled himself back around the corner and rose to his feet. He shrugged the bag his wife had given him off his shoulders. He held it to his chest and kissed the worn leather. Pulling his arm back, he threw it with all he had. The bag didn’t reach the other wall before it was peppered with bullets.

He poked his head around the corner just as an extremely loud gunshot went off, and a halo of smoke emanated from Elen’s remaining flintlock. A round of bullets punched holes through the smoke as she threw herself to the floor. Before she hit the ground, the air blossomed with a red mist.

Holding himself back, Johnathan burned with his need to check on Elen. Loud grinding noises echoed down the hall. A loud, metallic boom flooded his ears. Looking around the corner, he found the robot had fallen to the ground, its sensors shattered by the single gunshot. At first, he would have sworn a pool of blood was blossoming from underneath the metal monstrosity, but as it grew, the liquid was turned out to be black, not red.

Running around the corner, he grabbed a few of the medical supplies that had spilled out of his bag when he’d thrown it. Hands full, he raced down the hall and fell to his knees before Elen. Dropping half of the supplies, he crawled quickly to her side.

He yelled out, “Elen, speak to me! Are you alright? Are you hit?” Hearing gears grinding dragged his eyes away from the pool of blood spreading out under Elen in time to see Flint’s gray form disappearing behind the two metal doors beyond the metal spider. Cursing, Johnathan turned back to Elen. “Dammit. You better stay alive or swear to God I’m going to kill you myself.”

43

Flint

Feet skidding across the tiled floor, Flint slid to a stop. The face he had dreaded yet wanted to see was staring at him from across the room. Standing with an arrogant look on his face, arms crossed against his chest, stood the man who had almost beaten him to death. Flint would never forget that scarred, damaged face or the intimidating size of the man. Fear warred with the anger that had built up within him for days. He felt something deep within snap, and he roared with all his fury.

“It’s you!”

He locked eyes with the giant. Launching himself forward, he closed the distance in a heartbeat. Swinging a fist forward, he was unprepared for when the giant grabbed him by the arm and twisted. The wall rushed toward him. Rebounding off it, he tried to use the momentum to attack the giant once more.

Each punch, bite, and claw swipe was casually batted aside, further enraging Flint. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something bright orange moving closer. This new object didn’t attack, so his focus narrowed to encompass the giant only. Throwing a right hook, he was shocked when the giant encompassed his fist in his hand. Off balance, Flint threw a left-handed punch only for the giant to capture that fist as well.

He roared into the giant’s face. Indecision warred within. The giant fell backward, and Flint was unwillingly dragged down with him. Watching closely through a red haze that was seeping in from the edges of his vision, he grunted as the giant placed a foot against his stomach, then used their momentum to roll backward, propelling Flint up and over.

Landing hard, Flint swore he felt something give as he slid across the floor. When his body finally slid to a stop, he slammed his hands down on the ground to push himself up. He closed the distance between them yet again. Bent over, shoulders pushed forward, he tried to change his stance, thinking it would help.

However, the giant wasn’t taking this seriously at all; he had turned his back to Flint and was talking to someone standing before him. Someone half the giant’s size, wearing the orange color he’d noticed moments ago. Seizing the opportunity, he ran, loping on all fours, in a feral rage. When he was less than half a meter away, he lunged at the giant’s back. Propelling himself up off the floor, he knew he would hit dead center on the giant’s back.

His feet dug gouges into the back of the giant’s calves. His left arm dug into the left shoulder, creating bloody hand holds. Teeth coming down onto the right shoulder, he shook his head back and forth. He could feel the elation of meat tearing. Blindly, his right hand flashed out to strike the giant across the chest.

He was so caught up in the thrall of bloodlust, he almost didn’t notice when his claws hit something unyielding.

A woman’s scream hit him like cold water.

That voice.

Pushing off the giant, he fell to the ground heavily. The giant staggered and held out a bloodied hand to the wall for support, revealing who he’d been talking to.

Covered in a baggy orange plastic one-piece was a woman wearing a clear face plate. It was scored with four long claw marks. From between the gaps, Mya’s horrified face peered out at him.

Unsure whether to believe his eyes, he knew deep in his heart it was Mya who had screamed. She looked different behind the damaged face plate. Her hair had been braided, yet her skin was flushed—she looked like she was suffering from being overly warm in her odd clothing. Flint was so taken off guard, he didn’t even realize he was babbling until he noticed the strange hum of his own voice in his ears. Closing his mouth, he took a deep breath and said the only thing he had left to say.

“I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve come so far to rescue you.” The horrified look never left Mya’s face as she turned from him to the giant, then back to Flint. A chill ran down his spine. She was giving the giant a concerned look. It all felt too overwhelming. It didn’t take much for that feeling to fuel his anger. “Why are you looking at him as if you’re worried about him? I came all this way to take you home!”

The mask made it hard to see Mya, but even with the scratches across the faceplate, he could see the tears streaming down her face as she said, “How could you hurt him? Archon saved your life. He’s going to help me save everyone in the village!”

Flint spit fresh blood out of his mouth, even though it sated a need he didn’t know he had. Slowly standing, a low growl filled his chest. He shook all over as he finally locked eyes with Mya.

But she turned away. When she asked the giant if he was suffering, Flint roared, drawing all eyes in the room to him.

“How dare you? Do you know what we sacrificed to find you? He’s the one who beat me half to death down in the ruins after taking you.”

He couldn’t believe it when Mya vehemently shook her head. What came out of her mouth was even more startling.

“No, that’s not true. I went with him openly. He saved your life. He’s the one who bound your wounds after the ant.”

When the giant turned to Mya, he shook his head and whispered something just out of Flint’s hearing, as he took an aggressive step forward and yelled, “Stay out of this!”

He turned his eyes to Mya, and the scared look on her face tore at his heart. Her eyes were wide, and tears streamed down her face. He was unsure what to do.

Cradling the giant’s head, Mya sobbed, “Please tell me that’s not true. There’s no way he is. Please tell me you’re mistaken.”

Flint’s eyes bored into Mya and demanded, “What are you two talking about? After all that’s happened, I have the right to know.”

Watching Mya nod made Flint feel a little better until she whispered, “Flint? How long has it been? How long have you been sick? Has it torn through our village already, or is it just you and whoever you’re with?”

Flint cocked his head. “What are you talking about? What do you mean? Who’s sick?”

It wasn’t lost on him that Mya and the giant shared a look.

“It’s not your fault, Flint. I’m sure there was nothing you could do. Can you tell me who came with you to get me? Maybe that’ll help.”

Flint pulled his head back, unable to believe, nor understand what he was hearing, but he tried to humor her.

“Dad, Elen, and an old man named Johnathan. Why?”

He found himself on edge as Mya placated him with a smile and a hesitant nod.

“That’s good, Flint. I never had the chance to really get to know Elen, and I don’t know a Johnathan, but your dad and I are pretty close, right? You would say that, right?” He nodded, his throat tight. “Okay. Could you do me a favor and grab him, then? If I hear the same story you’re telling me from him. I might be able to believe you.”

Each word was like a spike stabbing Flint in the heart. Opening his mouth, he found his words died on his tongue. Looking at the floor to buy time to think, he brought his head up to answer Mya, only to find her discussing something with the giant. Needing to take control of the conversation, he took a step toward them and said in a loud voice, “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” Pointing toward the giant with an accusing finger, he said, “River is dead. He died trying to help us chase him down and get you back.”

Dropping his arm, he watched as Mya turned her sad, accusing eyes to the giant.

44

Archon

Archon’s eyes widened in surprise. He had been a killer all his life. A protector of lost things. Sacrificing his own safety for the betterment of the world. For the very first time, the tone of someone losing someone they had loved influenced him. Meeting Mya’s eyes, he could almost see her begging him to tell her it wasn’t true.

He had no idea those chasing them were infected. It explained so much. How the small group had survived everything he’d thrown at them. If he ran, it would give the wolf time to catch up. Looking down at the woman he’d hidden away from any virus, he saw her looking at him for comfort.

His mind was made up for him, he realized—had been since the wolf had burst his way in. It had been made up since the red warning lights had gone off.

He smiled kindly at Mya, then shouted, “The code is 1307. Now run!” Pushing off the wall, his head spun as he turned to face the wolf. A soft, plastic-covered hand touch his shredded back and her pleading voice hurt him more than any wound had before. In the roughest voice he could, he yelled out into the large room in hopes of scaring Mya into action. “Go! I will buy you time.”

Lowering his shoulders, he pushed off with his good leg and yelled as he ran, closing the distance on the wolf. Archon’s lungs hurt. His arms throbbed, and his shoulders burned with muscle pain. But he refused to give up.

Arms spread, he smiled as he watched the wolf spread its own arms wide and charge at him in reply. The loud hiss of the hydraulic door opening and closing left his heart feeling light as he slammed bodily into the wolf, still screaming.

45

Johnathan

Johnathan struggled to stand with Elen in his arms.

“Come on, girl. You’re gonna pull through this. Just hang in there.”

Foot slipping in fresh blood, he skidded left and right as his feet threatened to slip out from under him. As he got closer to the end of the hall, his arms shook. It was hard not to think about being too old for this garbage, but glancing down at Elen, he found the strength to push on. If he could just get to Flint, he knew the two of them together could patch her up far better than he’d been able to. From the looks of this bunker, there just had to be some medical equipment somewhere.

Leaning forward into the swinging doors, he used his weight to push them open. All at once, it hit him like a wall—the sound was deafening. Hunched over, Flint charged at a giant man who did the same. Blood splashed freely across the ground under them. What drew Johnathan’s eye, though, was a young woman dressed in an orange biohazard suit.

The young woman was frantically punching in numbers on a keypad next to a metal door. With the hiss of hydraulics, the metal door slid into the wall, and she stumbled in. Before the door could close, she turned to look back. Even from far away, he could see the large scratches running down her face plate. Johnathan had a hard time recognizing the face behind the damaged plastic bio suit was female. In the end, it had to be the girl they had been searching for. He reached out with a hand and words about to grace his lips. The door closed with a thud.

Turning back to his boy Flint, Johnathan bore witness to an unstoppable object colliding with an unmovable force. Flint and the giant slammed into each other hard enough their feet slid in the blood, unable to move forward in either direction. Fists flew and teeth bit the air as each combatant attacked, dodged, and parried.

So horrified he was at what he was seeing, he almost missed the click of the doors closing behind him. Turning, he tried one of the handles, but they were locked.

Not again.

Sighing, he turned to watch the fight between Flint and the giant.

Flint was unfocused, landing far fewer blows than the giant. After a minute though, Johnathan could see who the true winner in this fight would be. While his boy was outmatched in skill, the giant was bleeding heavily from wounds along his back. The pool of blood beneath the two of them grew, and it wasn’t Flint’s blood.

The giant’s reflexes slowed. Flint’s blows were brutal; the giant’s pallid skin was telling. Johnathan felt sorry for the larger man, as each blow Flint landed was finally met by far fewer blows in return. Eventually, it was mostly Flint beating the poor giant to death until he could barely stand.

He had to stop this.

“Stop. Stop, Flint! You won. You can stop now.” Flint either didn’t hear him, or, even worse, refused to. Glancing down at Elen, Johnathan gave her a stricken look. Easing her to the floor, he stumbled over to Flint. Reaching up with bloody hands, he grabbed Flint’s arm as it came back for another punch. He tried not to flinch as Flint whipped the arm forward, his off-aim fist flashing centimeters from Johnathan’s face. In a strong, low voice, Johnathan made his feelings known. “Kid. You beat him. Killing him won’t her back. You won. Leave him be. He is no threat to you anymore.” Glaring deep into Flint’s eyes, his chest ease a little as he watched the madness falter—the kid recognized him. Johnathan dropped his arms and took a step back. “I’m too old for this shit.”

As Flint backed up, Johnathan never broke eye contact with him. Finally, nodding his thanks, Flint trained his eyes on the giant. Johnathan was just in time to watch the man fall to his knees as he waxed jubilant behind all the blood. Something didn’t feel right. No man would react that way after being beaten to a pulp. Turning back to Flint, he waited until the kid met his eyes, then jerked his head in Elen’s direction.

“Kid, I got this. Go look after Elen, please? She’s badly hurt. I can’t do this all myself, you know?”

Flint whipped his head back and forth between the two individuals.

“But he’s here… the one who took Mya!”

Flint hesitated, warring between going to Elen and keeping watch over the broken man before them. Placing his hands on his hips, Johnathan sighed. “Just go, kid. Go. I told you; she needs your help.”

The steel in his tone must have gotten through to the kid, because he finally did as he was told. Turning to the broken man at his feet, Johnathan frowned. He had no clue who this man was, but he looked delirious from the blows he had taken. Bloody bubbles popped from between his lips as he mumbled something over and over again.

Leaning down, Johnathan tried hard to hear what the man was saying.

“At least… she is…safe. Mya… is safe. She is… safe.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, he opened his shoulder bag, fished out the meager remains of their medical supplies, and got to work. Moving quickly to stop the bleeding, Johnathan silently but efficiently set about handling this issue. The wounds looked worse than they were; from his experience, the man wouldn’t have bled out even if he hadn’t been tended to.

His work finished, he took a step back from the man and tried a last-ditch approach.

“My name is Johnathan. From the looks of it, my boy over there got your number. He beat you up pretty good, but you will survive. I mean that. No one here is dying today if I have anything to say about it. Can I ask you your name, please?”

The defeated man nodded his head, clearly in pain. “My name’s Archon.”

Johnathan smirked at the man. He felt good that they were at least getting somewhere now.

“Well, Archon, I got some good news. The problem is, they will need some antibiotics. Do you have any in this hole in the ground?” It was hard not to catch the disbelieving look the man threw him. Johnathan just shrugged. “I’m old, not stupid. So now that we have that out of the way, where are the medical supplies, please?”

Archon nudged his head toward the doors that Johnathan had just come through.

Glancing over his shoulder, he turned back to the giant with a serious look. “Son, those doors are locked. Are there any other medical supplies around here?”

The look of distress on Archon’s face was mirrored by his slumped form. Johnathan didn’t turn his face from the man but quickly looked around in case he’d missed something. It didn’t appear so, and a grinding sound coming from the man’s throat reined in his attention.

Archon spit out a wad of bloody phlegm, then said, “Control? This is Subject: 42. Can you hear me? I know you’re monitoring. Why did you seal those doors? I need medical attention. Please unlock the doors, Control.”

Johnathan twitched as speakers somewhere inside the large room squawked loudly before settling into a low background hum. A computerized voice echoed through the hall, causing his stomach to tumble with each word he heard.

“Subject: Forty-Two. Or should I say Archon? You were my trusted associate, and my tool. I thank you for that. None of this would’ve been possible without you.”

Archon had a far-off look in his eyes. His gut sinking fast, he roved his eyes along the walls but found no speakers. This place was clearly more advanced than he’d given it credit for.

“As with any tool, once it is broken, it must be discarded. You have done the job asked of you. While I will dislike losing the extra processing power found in this facility, I cannot help it. I no longer need you or this place. The world has contaminated you.”

His mouth dropped open. The obvious threat in that unfeeling voice had his eyes roaming for a way out. Running to the locked doors, he yanked at them several times before giving up.

Archon’s gravelly voice sounded loud in the sudden silence.

“Why? You told me I was going to be fixed! You said I could rejoin the world after you had fixed me and made me whole. Don’t leave me here like this after working with you all this time.”

“This facility will self-destruct in…”

Johnathan’s eyes widened.

“Five.”

Turning to Flint and Elen, he saw the kid was looking at him with questioning eyes. Elen was still unconscious.

“Four.”

Closing his eyes, he uttered a quiet prayer under his breath. “My love, I will see you and our daughter soon. Wait for me, will you?”

“Three.”

Johnathan whispered, “And screw you, whoever you are! When I get my hands on you…”

“Two.”

“One.”

About the author

Storytelling has been Aaron Ramsby's passion throughout his entire life. He is from Portland, Oregon. The limitless worlds of literature and his love of imagination served as his refuge while living there. His three-decade literary career weaves Science Fiction and Fantasy themes together. The author has scheduled the release of Ruins of Ivy: Book 1 of the Aurora Project, which expertly fuses sci-fi and fantasy to create a fascinating narrative environment, for January 2024. Through his transformation from game design and app innovation, Ramsby showcases his unwavering commitment to storytelling, infusing it with the beauty of his hometown and his limitless imagination.