by Sean Platt
He stared at Brother Path, the old man who was thirty or forty years younger just a couple of weeks ago. Wolf wanted to see that as some backward-ass Benjamin Button bullshit. And he would have for sure, if he wasn’t also certain that it was something he’d seen before.
But when?
He could feel the eyes of nomads and scrappers living in the remnants of old Valley homes, scraping his back as he dared to cross their domain. The entire population was made up of people who weren’t welcome in any civilized towns. They didn’t fit in with The Slums or the shanties, and couldn’t cut it as bandits.
Having nothing to lose was dangerous, but Wolf wasn’t worried. These people had so little, even their lives weren’t worth saving. For longer back than he could remember — again he felt sure — Wolf had lived with nothing to lose, but somehow that nothing had given him everything. Only after Wolf quit being who he was could he finally be himself.
Wolf was a killer, but there would be no joy in ending the wretched souls scurrying in shadows on either side of him now. He hoped they would leave him be.
After hours of travel the monks stopped in unison, as if some invisible alarm clock had rung in their minds. They closed their eyes, folded their hands in front of them, and prayed in a language that Wolf didn’t know.
Four minutes before those fuckers finally finished.
They resumed walking, not saying a word about why they’d prayed, or sorry for wasting another brother’s time.
“Hey,” Wolf shouted, refusing to follow. “I need some answers.”
“You’ll get answers when you come back with us,” said Brother Truth. “You have fulfilled your job and shall be rewarded.”
“What about the girl? When we gonna look for her?”
“Brother Path needs to rest at the temple and repair his union with the Gods. Then our search can begin.”
Wolf shook his head. “And how long are you expecting this shit to take? I got this book I’ve been meaning to read.”
He patted at the book tucked inside his jacket, thinking of Caleigh, who’d lent him Alice Unfolded in hopes that he’d read and eventually discuss it. But Wolf had put it off too long; now they’d never get the chance.
Why should I care so much? She’s just some kid I barely even knew.
But Caleigh was nice to him, and that made her better than the stacks of bitches who were either too indifferent or scared to make his acquaintance. But there was something on the other side of that river, too. Something that hurt when he thought about it, a sense of loss that seemed as if it might be somehow tied to someone in another life.
Not that any such thoughts made sense.
“Live your life and read your book.” Brother Truth bowed his head. “Don’t let us stop you.”
“Fuck you.”
The monks kept walking.
He followed, considering their offer. He needed to know more about the girl they were searching for, and what she knew about him. Wolf also needed to know what the monks knew but weren’t telling him.
Again he thought of Caleigh and that sense of unidentifiable loss.
Who did I lose?
Wolf had been drifting through life, one sun to the next, most of them drowning in liquor, never thinking too much about anything beyond the next day or job or drink or fuck. But there had to be more than this. And there had been once, Wolf could feel it — even if he couldn’t remember a single friend.
Where had the people he cared about most all gone off to? Did they vanish along with everybody else in the world during The Event? And were they the reason he forgot?
They were traveling south on an old crumbling road overgrown with weeds, drawing ever nearer to The Slums.
A light ahead, and movement coming toward them.
They darted into the woods, waiting for the horses and carriage to pass. As it got closer, Wolf saw that it wasn’t just a few people out for an evening ride, but an entire squadron of men and women.
“Why the hell are a bunch of bandits headed north?” Wolf whispered.
A minefield-laden old passage to NorthVale, then nothing else except for Stratum.
“They can’t be looking for people to rob,” said Truth. “Perhaps this is where they live.”
A flood of pain ripped through Wolf as they passed and left an echo of agony to hollow his bones.
As the feeling slowly subsided, he looked over and saw that Brother Path had felt the agony as well.
They looked at one another, then the carriage.
“She’s in there, isn’t she?” Wolf said.
Brother Path nodded.
The bandits had the girl that everybody was looking for, the one who had awakened his memories. A pair of them rode up front, with another two sitting atop of the carriage, and a total of eight following on horseback. Twelve against the three of them, and more likely two given that Brother Path looked like the wrong cough might shatter a hip.
Truth said, “They’re taking her to Stratum for the reward.”
“Fuck that. Gimme my sword!”
Truth looked to Path for permission.
“Seriously? Get over your precious little tree, already. You wanna try taking these fuckers out by your lonesomes, then by all means go right the fuck ahead and try. I’ll wait in the bushes until they’re done playing soccer with your skulls before I waste the breath.”
Brother Path nodded and the younger monk handed Wolf his sword.
He snatched it away with a scowl. “Don’t you ever take my fucking weapon again.”
Truth didn’t respond.
“So, what’s the game plan, brothers? Moses here holding an ace, or is it up to me and Brother Puberty to whack all the moles?”
Path shook his head, “I can handle myself.”
Wolf laughed. “I ain’t talking about your alone time with the Big Lebowski, I—”
Truth raised his crossbow. “You take the man on the right. I’ll take out the other one.”
Then he fired.
Wolf sprinted towards the last two bandits, silent and fast, drawing his blade on the way. The man was shirtless, his body painted black as if the liquid night might protect him. Wolf drove the sword through his body, then yanked it out.
The bandit spilled forward. His horse took off with a whinny and alerted the rider to his left.
He turned as Truth’s bolt found his forehead.
The other bandit yelled, alerting half the Valley as he drew his sword.
Wolf braced for the attack. But another bolt slammed right through the side of his skull, reminding him of a sad comedian doing that bit with an arrow sticking out from either side of his head.
The man fell, but already the carriage had stopped, and the remaining bandits were turning their attention to Wolf.
Ten now, all of them staring him down.
But this was the fight Wolf had been waiting for.
He smiled, clenching his fists around the hilt of his sword.
“I know what you’re thinking: Did he fire six shots or only five? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself.”
The bandits kept staring at him. Judging by their eyes, no one had a clue what he was talking about.
Wolf shook his head. “Well, I guess there’s no use in finishing if you’ve got no respect for the classics.”
Then he screamed bloody murder and charged.
Forty-Seven
Elijah Freeman
Elijah, Val, and Charlotte had to get out of town before the raid, but Elijah had to warn his mom and dad first.
They went to Elijah’s house, but his parents weren’t home.
Instead he found a letter from his mom saying that there was an emergency council meeting, and instructing him to stay home and wait for her.
He scribbled his own note giving them details on what Pascal had told him, though how they could possibly prepare for an attack if the Rangers were compromised was beyond him. He didn’t have time to wait for them, and wasn’
t about to lose his chance to ditch the city ahead of a lockdown. They needed to leave immediately and bring a horse to Pascal before the bandits returned to the plant.
If he could get Pascal and return in time, they might be able to stop what promised to be either a bloodbath or a coup. Possibly both.
He went upstairs and grabbed his light armor, sword, crossbow and bolts. Val and Charlotte were already armed, but neither were armored.
He hoped they wouldn’t want to come with him. Pascal had told him to leave the women at Jacob’s Inn, where they would be safe.
They raced to the stables and told Henry that they needed to take three horses out — this was an emergency. The stable hand was a few years older than Elijah and a bit on the slow side. People weren’t usually nice to him, but Elijah had always treated him like more than a dumb kid working the stables.
Henry prepared the horses.
Elijah thanked him, offered a handsome tip, then left while they still could.
Neither Val nor Charlotte would let Elijah go alone.
He’d persisted, but they refused to sit by when Pascal obviously needed them. Val argued that a trip to the inn only added time to the trip. She was the adult, so what could he do?
Elijah was grateful for the company, once he got over not doing things his way. The plant was in a rural town that had once been called Carston, just northwest of Fortress, surrounded by woodlands.
“Pascal said he wasn’t sure if there was anybody left here, but to be careful,” Elijah said as they dismounted. They secured their horses to trees just off the main road to the plant. “Wait here.”
“No,” Val said. “We all go in together.”
“I am an Alt,” Elijah said, now pushing back. “I’m faster than you both. I can get in and out without being spotted. If I go in with you two, then you’re slowing me down and putting us all at risk.”
“What if something happens to you?” Charlotte asked. “What if you’re outnumbered?”
“If I don’t come back soon, just leave and go to the inn until things blow over.”
Val looked at Charlotte and nodded. “I can’t use this sword too well, anyway. If you don’t come back soon, I’m heading to John’s Township.”
“Why there?” Charlotte asked.
“If the Rangers are compromised, I doubt it’ll spread to John’s Township, and I know a couple of Rangers there who might be able to help us.”
Elijah reached out for Pascal. I’m here. Where are you?
But he got no response, and worried that it was already too late. What if they had found and killed—
“I’m around back, just outside the exit, but I can’t move. Watch out for guards outside.”
Can’t move?
“Just hurry.”
On my way.
Elijah smiled as he delivered the good news to Charlotte and Val.
“I’ll be fine,” he promised again, before leaving to prove it.
Elijah approached the factory from the south side until he reached a tall chain-link fence with barbed wire spiraled atop it.
Beyond the fence was a long stretch of parking lot littered with debris and metal skeletons, and what was left of those long-abandoned vehicles had been picked clean by scavengers. There was about one hundred yards or so between factory and fence. Some of the lot had crumbled to nature, but there still weren’t nearly enough trees for healthy cover.
Elijah kept circling the fence, searching for a break, keeping his eyes peeled for any bandits holding watch along the rooftop or on the grounds. He hadn’t trained with the older Cadets in their field training exercises, but Pascal had taken him out a few times, going on ride-alongs with him as a favor to Elijah’s father.
Pascal and the others, usually a woman named Knox, had given him a decent feel for the sorts of things they looked out for when approaching potential threats. Elijah had felt ready, but circling the meat-packing plant on his own, with at least three fates counting on him, his anxiety was like a blister. Letting them down meant his death, and probably theirs.
Just slow down. You’ve got this.
He spotted a bandit on the roof, standing and staring off toward the front entrance, smoking something.
He raised his scope up to get a closer view, then scanned what little he could see of the roof from his angle.
Elijah didn’t see anyone, so he zoomed in again to see if the bandit’s mouth was moving, maybe talking to another sentry out of sight. But he was only staring and smoking.
Still, he waited. If he fired and hit the man, and someone saw him go down, the bandits might trip an alarm and unleash hell.
But then the man vanished from view.
Damn it. I waited too long.
Elijah moved, staying close to the brush and hopefully out of sight, probing the fence for any possible holes.
He found one, but the distance between it and the hollowed-out van was roughly thirty yards, meaning his cover was anorexic.
He waited a moment, then made a run for it, ducking through the hole and into the parking lot, praying he wasn’t spotted or shot.
He reached the van and fell to the ground, gasping in relief.
He waited for his heartbeat to settle, then peered up to the roof to see the same man standing back in his same spot.
Elijah couldn’t make his way across the rest of the lot without being seen. He raised his crossbow, bolt loaded and ready, then focused through the scope.
He held his breath and fired.
The bold found its mark in the bandit’s skull and sent him staggering out of sight. Elijah stared, barely able to believe that he’d just killed a man. Practice was one thing, but the doing unsettled him.
He braced for an alarm, or for more bandits to appear as the man staggered like a drunk until he tumbled off the roof and onto the ground.
Elijah waited.
If anyone had spotted him, then they’d surely come running to look over the edge and check on their comrade.
But nobody came. And there were no alarms.
He ran toward the fallen body. The man had fallen face first to the concrete, blood pooling around his smashed face.
Elijah reached into his pockets, checking for keys or anything of value. Finding nothing, he darted around to the back of the factory where Pascal had said to meet him.
He rounded the side of the plant, scanning the rear for any sign of Pascal among the bay doors. He spotted him about fifty yards off, sitting in the dirt and leaning against a roll-up metal door, holding a bloody rag over his stomach and barely moving.
Oh, Gods!
Elijah ran to him, praying he’d made it in time.
But his mentor looked like death already had half of him.
“What happened?”
Pascal wasn’t just hurt, he seemed to be dying. Blood bubbled from his mouth as he tried to speak. “I’m … not gonna m-make it.”
“Of course you are.” And boy did that make Elijah want to cry. “Come on, let me help you up. Charlotte and Val are waiting in the woods.”
Pascal looked alarmed. “I t-told you not t-to … bring them.”
“They’re safe.”
“I d-don’t want them t-to see me d-die.”
“You’re not gonna die, man. Come on. I’ll get you to the horse and—”
Pascal shook his head.
Elijah fought his tears, screaming at Pascal from inside his mind.
Why the hell did I come back here if you’re just gonna give up now?
“Because I have something to give you.”
“What?”
“Come closer.”
Elijah knelt beside Pascal. “What?”
“Take my Light and don’t let anybody know it’s in you. Don’t go back to Hope Springs. They’ll be lookin for you, and for The Light.”
“What are you talking about?”
Pascal opened his mouth. Blood spilled out, but so did something else — a bright light full of blues, whites, pinks, and purples, all at once
and none at all, a color he couldn’t place, despite its bone deep familiarity.
The light poured from Pascal until it formed a person-sized shape.
Is this your soul?
Elijah looked down when Pascal did not answer. But his mentor was already dead.
“Pascal!” Elijah whimpered.
The Light leapt into his open mouth, flooding him with a warmth and serenity that Elijah had never known.
What is this?
The Light did not answer, though Elijah knew it heard him.
He stared down at his hands and arms, watching as the light rippled beneath his skin. Like some alien thing trying him on for size, flexing his muscles, burning throughout his entire body as it explored his every molecule.
Elijah should’ve been mortified.
He should’ve been clawing at his skin to remove the invader.
But it didn’t feel like an invasion. It felt like a reunion.
The Light finally spoke within him.
We must find the girl and the wolf.
Forty-Eight
Olivia Freeman
Olivia had raced home, grabbed her workout gear, and started running the neighborhood, not even bothering to hide the tears.
Running and crying like a crazy person!
She couldn’t believe that Richmond had betrayed her, and with Slum Lord of all people.
She’d noticed his loss of interest, of course. Olivia couldn’t live with someone for that long and not suspect something was off when their old fire had almost burned out entirely. But couples drifted apart. All things came to an end; that was just a part of life.
Sometimes, and perhaps most often before the world ended, it was as simple as people changing and slowly becoming strangers. If Olivia were being honest, she hadn’t felt the same about Richmond in a while. She wasn’t sure if she’d lost interest or if it was a response to his growing indifference. The spark had been gone for a while, but Olivia loved him no less. She’d never even glanced at another man beyond the mildest flirtation.
