《Mercenaries of the Apocalypses [System Apocalypse Progression]》


 Chapter 1 - All In

    Ogre mutants were bad at bluffing. The brute sitting beside Andy grimaced at its cards like they were soured milk, then threw a handful of bones into the pile. ¡°Fifteh boens.¡± Its accent was chunky, clogged by the tumorous bulges in its throat. Predictably, with a clatter, every mutant at the table chucked their betting-bones into the pot. If there was one thing mutants struggled to do, it was turn down a challenge.


    They all turned to face Andy. Either by a feat of his sister¡¯s creativity, or the mutant¡¯s stupidity, the disguise was working. Green paint covered his arms and face and he wore a cartoonishly large witch''s nose, tied behind his head with elastic string. Andy felt naked without his leather jacket, but took solace in the company of Julie, his .45 revolver, at his hip. She hummed in her holster, pining to be set free. ¡°Hold on baby,¡± Andy whispered, stroking her handle. ¡°Soon.¡±


    ¡°Wos dat?¡± The runty mutant dealing the cards leaned over the embossed metal table.


    ¡°Don¡¯t rush me,¡± Andy growled, doing his best impression of a mutant. The voice modulator helped. It was one of the gizmos Clara had provided for the mission, worn like a necklace, hidden in plain sight. He glanced around the satellite complex¡¯s control room, glaring into the eyes of each hulking monster at the table. Present were the patriarchs of three tribes: The Bossers, The Boasters and The Bosses. Mutant politics were rich and complex like that.


    ¡°Runty¡¯s a thinka¡¯,¡± the fattest mutant at the table heckled. Its humongous muscles were buried beneath rolls of fungus-grey fat. A sledgehammer rested upright beside its chair, only the legs of which escaped the folds of its gargantuan arse. Somewhere on its bestial face were the worn grooves of mankind, warped by radiation, remoulded into a horror of the apocalypses.


    Resisting the urge to draw his revolver on the ugly creature, Andy inspected his cards: Queen-Ten suited. If he¡¯d been playing with other mercenaries, it would have been a pretty good hand. But as per ogre mutant rules, his cards were considered weak and runty. The radioactive abominations favoured picture cards, and the King was mightiest of all. Maybe if he scratched off the Queen¡¯s hairdo, he could convince the table that she was just a girly looking King, but it would take a lot of bluster and bravado to sell.


    ¡°Fold,¡± he grumbled, chucking his cards away. He needed a better hand before he assassinated his target.


    ¡°Tiny runt¡¯s scared of fightin¡¯.¡± Andy¡¯s target¨Cthe behemoth mutant¨Csat opposite him puffing on five cigars tied together like the barrel of a minigun. Its eyes were dots inside its tremendous head, like two nails hammered into a swollen corpse, milky and bloodshot. It stared back, face twitching in an inaudible rage. On its head was an imposing helmet made from the skull of a stag, antlers jutting out the top, decorated with hanging bones, some of which bore the rotting remnants of human flesh. The dress piece signified him as the alpha¨Cthe mutant which kept the others in check.


    Andy sighed. It wasn¡¯t the right time yet. How was it Clara had put it during the mission briefing? He remembered back to their conversation in the jeep a few hours ago: ¡°Our mission is to create instability. Just killing a few of them won¡¯t work. We can¡¯t have them blaming humanity for this, or else they might look outside their tribes and seek revenge. Make it look like a mutant did it¨Clike it was a fair fight.¡±


    Okay, so shooting the alpha mutant now would not be humiliating enough for his sister¡¯s plan to work. The other mutants at the poker table would perceive Andy¡¯s actions as cowardice. They might be dumb, but they had a rigid code of honour. Andy was required to undermine the alpha with a challenge first. The execution should be flashy: wait for a sure-kill hand, then pull the trigger.


    Alert: Immediate danger detected. A robotic voice reached him from within the deep recesses of his mind, as though he was wearing an earpiece with the volume turned way down. Eliminate mutant. Priority targets established-


    ¡°Shh,¡± Andy said to the artificial intelligence in his head. For as long as he could remember, Andy had heard voices which others claimed weren¡¯t there, but the Artificial Intelligence implant was by far the most vivid and persistent. It had first talked to him after he had injected himself with military-grade Augmentation Serum a couple years after the world had ended, mistaking it for a quick high. The effects had been immediate and permanent, invading his DNA, transforming him into a biological weapon.


    Alert: Pollutants detected, the voice badgered him. Motor and cognitive abilities impaired. Avoid contaminated liquids.


    It hadn¡¯t shut up since.


    ¡°Chill out,¡± Andy said, hiding his voice in a sip of the mutant grog. The whispering voice inside his head grew unintelligible, subdued by the hum of booze to a distant sanctimonious breeze. He slouched in his chair as the room spun pleasantly, like a swing twisted around its chain. But no matter how drunk he got, his mind was drawn to certain tactical assets and a crucial part of him remained alert. It was one of his Augmentation¡¯s enhancement modules. Some Augmented people had developed gigantic muscles and herculean strength, others could control the elements, shooting fireballs and flying through the sky, or at least that¡¯s how the stories went. Andy¡¯s Gunslinger Augmentation gave him Combat Conceptualisation: an artificial intelligence implant which ran tactical programming, mapping the room as though it were a video game¡­ Badass.


    Andy closed his eyes, but he could still envision the dusty computers lining the walls, on top of which perched an audience of runt mutants-a smaller gobliny breed of the ogres¨Cyipping and heckling. A handful of them were armed with hunting rifles as tall as themselves, just as likely to use them as clubs than to know how to shoot them. A smoky window stood before a fire escape exited onto a balcony. Outside, Clara was waiting in her overwatch position on the roof of a small office block at the edge of the mountaintop compound. Their getaway vehicle was parked in the forest just beyond.


    Andy was dealt in, but the cards came up Ace-Two. Again, playable against mercs, but awful against muties. ¡°Fold.¡±


    ¡°Better t¡¯ play with propa¡¯ muties.¡± The alpha¡¯s voice was thick and gravelly like the bellows of a distant thunderstorm. ¡°Dis ¡®ere runt boy¡¯s waitin¡¯ for em teeth pickin¡¯ bones t¡¯ stew.¡±


    The whole table exploded in such an uproar of laughter that Andy could feel the tremors in his gut. He didn¡¯t really get the joke, but he didn¡¯t appreciate being the butt of it. Grinding his teeth, Andy ignored his simmering anger, taking a swig of mutant grog to quench the fire. The fattest mutant at the table snorted, struggling to breathe as it stared at Andy through pinprick eyes. The beast¡¯s torso was wrapped in chain-link fence, scrap metal plates were strapped to its arms and a metal bucket perched on its fat head. Behind it, runty members of its clan jeered at Andy, dressed in the same scrapheap medieval knight outfit as their patriarch.


    ¡°Stupid runt must miss the fight again, ey boys?¡± Fatty yabbered. A dizzying wave of combat enhancing hormones washed over Andy, dredging a strong impulse to kill the creature. Clenching his fists, Andy weathered the humiliation like a storm.


    The game¡¯s hand was played and the mutants, not knowing the rules to poker, all argued that their cards were the strongest. While they bickered, Andy searched his pockets for his hip flask, eager to sweeten the mutant grog with whiskey. Then a moment of horror struck him. He hadn¡¯t transferred his flask from his leather jacket when he¡¯d dressed up as a mutant. What a blunder! All he could find was a crumpled piece of paper in the back pocket of his jeans. He hadn¡¯t even known it was there. Curious, he held the paper up to the flickering torchlight and read.


    Augmentation Archetype: Gunslinger


    The Gunslinger is able to develop abilities relating to firearm proficiency, combat agility, tactical perception and reasoning. Versatile and precise, the Gunslinger is the archetypal Augmented warrior.


    Currently, Gunslinger ¡®Andy¡¯ possesses two Delineations, which specialise DNA modification for specific abilities. Current development trajectory assessed as: stunted / underperforming (see footnotes).


    Delineation 1: Hitman


    Delineation 2: Marksman


    Beneath each Delineation was a transcript of Andy¡¯s Augmentation abilities. Some of the powers he could activate consciously in combat, while others ran in the background of his mind, manipulating his thoughts, tweaking his DNA. He skipped over the text¨Che knew it by heart, but Clara thought it necessary for him to revise. His sister must have printed the paper last time he calibrated at an Augmentation Master Console. How long ago was that now? Four, maybe five months ago? The process was arduous, but Clara argued it was a necessity.


    The footnotes were circled in pink highlighter. A note in Clara¡¯s handwriting read: ¡®See, your system agrees with me. Train harder!!! I¡¯m rooting for you :)¡¯


    The highlighted text read:


    Potential power spike detected as significant. Background upgrade programs activated and running for T-minus nine-thousand nine-hundred and ninety-two hours. Accumulative upgrades available. Current progression hindered by user inactivity. Assessing experimental implementation methods.


    The phrase about a ¡®potential power spike¡¯ was one of his AI¡¯s favourite to pester him with. But Andy saw through the coercion for what it was: just a way to sucker him in. His AI was desperate to go ham on his DNA, but it needed his cooperation. The Augmentation Serum was developed during the cataclysm when every apocalypse imaginable happened all at once, and humanity was on the brink of annihilation. Anyone who injected it would become a super soldier¨Ca hero who could reverse the extinction tide¨Ca bastion of mankind. But Andy was no hero, no pawn. He was a mercenary. He hadn¡¯t been much invested in the human race before the cataclysm, so why should he care now, just because all of a sudden he had special powers? They weren¡¯t even that special.


    Potential power spike detected as significant, his AI chimed, like a crackly radio signal inside his mind.


    ¡°I can read.¡± Andy shoved the note back in his pocket and rested his hand on his revolver for comfort. Ever since he and Julie had found one another, things had been on the up. She had spent years alone and inactive, strapped to the hip of a dead man before Andy had come along and rescued her. She had spoken to him then¨Che was sure of it¨Cbeckoned him over, begged to be set free. That was a month ago now. Since then, they hadn¡¯t been separated once. Wielding Julie was as natural to Andy as breathing. He hadn¡¯t encountered much in the wasteland that couldn¡¯t be put down with a .45 to the face, and if he ever did, he¡¯d figure something out.


    A snapping sound jolted him out of his daydreams. Raucous laughter filled the room as the fattest mutant¡¯s chair collapsed beneath it, and the behemoth tumbled to the concrete floor. Runt mutants dove over the table, snatching up his pile of betting-bones like seagulls picking at the scraps. Fatty whimpered and rolled on the ground, snuffling like a pig with the exertion, then gave up.


    Attention: Priority target established, his AI pestered him. Evasive Fire recommended.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Andy growled, his voice distorted by the modulator. Here he was, trying to be sneaky and engage in a bit of light hearted subterfuge, and all his implant could do was panic about imminent danger and obsess over priority targets. He¡¯d been on the road with Clara for days, assessing the lay of the land, kidnapping mutants and interrogating them, stealing an invite to tonight¡¯s prestigious gathering. Outside, a late-winter murk coated everything in grey, dampening his spirits. What was the rush to finish the job? The hard part was done, this was the bit he got to enjoy. Hell, if he stuck around, he might even win the game. What was the prize? More grog maybe?


    Alert: Pollutants detected. The AI nagged inside his skull. Cognition compromised. Engaging emergency metabolism.


    Lifting the mug beneath the joke-shop witch¡¯s nose he wore, Andy took a grateful sip of mutant grog. He wasn¡¯t sure how the mutants made it. He didn¡¯t care. It was strong enough to make his eyes sting and tasted like soap. Plus, his AI hadn¡¯t yet coded a tolerance for it, so it got him properly drunk like in the good old days.


    Suddenly, a tree-trunk arm knocked Andy while he was taking a sip. He spluttered as the booze went down the wrong way, looking up. A fight had broken out over the game, but Andy was too busy coughing to observe. It felt like fire in his nostrils, and something shot out of his nose.


    The room grew silent. The mutants were all looking at him again, a pile of betting-bones in the centre of the table. Just four players remained in the hand, himself included. Andy picked up his cards. Two-Seven offsuit. The worst hand in human poker. But a rush of defiance seized him as the grog flushed down the drain. ¡°Strong, yes. Mighty.¡± Andy rose and flung his arms up dramatically. ¡°I will bet everything, even my life.¡±


    Andy expected an uproar. He held his pose, arms outstretched, snarling around the room, really putting on a show. The mutants gawked at him silently. Even fatty sat upright to stare.


    Teasing, Andy could handle, but this was pure disrespect! It felt like outright rejection. If you farted loud enough, mutants would roar bloodlust and battle. And here he was, putting on a right show, but they didn¡¯t bat an eyelid.


    Lowering his arms, Andy followed the mutant¡¯s gawking gaze to a patch of pale flesh on his torso. He was wet all over, he must have spilled something¡­ He couldn¡¯t imagine what. Green paint streaked down his torn cloth disguise, staining his black skinny jeans.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Runt is so¡­ runty.¡± The muscular mutant beside him jabbed him in the chest. ¡°He nearly does look like a hummy.¡±


    ¡°And what''s his face doin¡¯ like that?¡± the alpha mutant said.


    Something in Andy¡¯s drink caught his eye. Poised like a cocktail¡¯s decoration was the prosthetic witch¡¯s nose which he¡¯d scavenged from a costume store days earlier. It must have snapped off. ¡°Shit.¡±


    Like a flash, Andy drew his revolver and fired. The nearest mutant¡¯s head burst like a gory party popper, spraying chunks of flesh over the mutants behind it. Andy¡¯s blood boiled as his Augmentation¡¯s combat enhancing hormones kicked into gear, genetic pistons pumping chemicals throughout his veins, sharpening his senses and strengthening his muscles. It felt as though time slowed down to match Andy¡¯s nonchalant pace. A familiar taste touched his tongue¨Cmetallic, but not unpleasant, like the first sip of whiskey in the morning. The taste of killing to come.


    Andy danced around the table as his Evasive Fire protocol kicked in. He fired Julie sidelong at the remaining mutants, bursting three more heads like watermelons. But the alpha was smart. It flipped the table just in time to protect itself, catching a bullet on the metal sheet. Andy unpinned a flashbang and darted towards the exit, but the beached whale-mutant grabbed his ankle. It wrenched him off balance as the flashbang exploded, blinding everything in the room. Except, Andy¡¯s Killer Instinct didn''t require sight. Julie flicked in his hand and he pulled the trigger. He felt her kick, and heard the mutant¡¯s scream as Julie severed the beast''s arm at the elbow with ferocious accuracy.


    Andy dove for the door, but a runt mutant stood in his way. Julie¡¯s cylinder clicked dry as he blew a cavity in its chest, then burst through the fire exit onto an icy balcony. Unpinning a frag grenade, Andy chucked it behind him and leapt from the balcony. His knees buckled as he landed in the snow and rolled onto his back. The grenade boomed above him, shattering glass, raining glittering debris. Andy rolled to his feet and squinted in the sudden light of day, trying to get his bearings.


    He was standing atop a concrete shelf at the head of a massive mountain range. An ice cold wind bit through his flimsy disguise. He sheltered his eyes from the glare, squinting at a ragged blanket of snow covering the mountain peaks, torn by jagged rocks. Behind him, the complex¡¯s grey wall stretched over the concrete shelf, dotted with a scramble of multi-level metal walkways speckled with icicles. High above the grey wall, a huge satellite dish purveyed the sapphire blue sky. He was on the opposite side of the building to Clara. He¡¯d need to get within her line of sight if she was to help him escape.


    Something thudded beside him¨Can ogre mutant jumped down from the railings brandishing a cruel cudgel. Then another. Above him, a pack of runt mutants charged over the railings, yipping like hyenas, eager for the kill. Andy made a run for it. His heart raced¨Ccardio wasn¡¯t his strong suit¨Cbut he reloaded Julie with automatic ease, cold fingers deft like ticking clockwork.


    The walkway rattled above and behind him. The runts were fast, climbing over the walkways like monkeys, keen to prove themselves to their older brother ogres. A whistling sound pelted past his ear. That was too close.


    Slipping on the ice, Andy fired underarm at the mutants behind him. His Evasive Fire protocol tugged on him like marionette strings, moving his limbs a fraction this way and that, keeping him from catching a bullet. Skidding to his knees like a rockstar, Andy reloaded as he spun around, summoning his Marksman abilities. His senses sharpened as a cool flush washed through him like putting back a refreshing vodka on the rocks. Firing twice at the charging mutants, he put them down like slaughtered bulls. Their corpses skidded either side of Andy in the snow. Aiming upwards, he squeezed Julie¡¯s trigger. Each of her hammer-strikes was a dead mutant.


    Getting to his feet, Andy rounded the satellite compound when a ray of sunlight blinded him. He felt for his sunglasses, only to find them cracked in his pocket. Lopsided, he put them on and spotted the office block through the glaring snow. There was no cover, just an open fifty-metre sprint. Andy sprinted towards it, sighting the treeline in the distance wishfully. He didn¡¯t like being shot in the back. It had happened once before, it wasn¡¯t fun.


    A gunshot popped, louder and bassier than the rest, followed by a steady rate of fire, like a kick-drum keeping time. Andy waved his hands towards the office block, then the snow at his feet kicked up in plumes of near-misses. Diving into the cover of a doorway, Andy gasped to get his breath back.


    ¡°Did you kill the alpha?¡± Clara¡¯s voice crackled over the radio strapped to his ankle. Rolling up his jeans, Andy tore the device free and hit send.


    ¡°Yeah, probably.¡±


    Andy realised that he was standing beside a window the moment it shattered. Something grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him through the glass. His Killer Instinct triggered, and Julie struck out to intercept the beast, but Andy¡¯s arm smashed into the window frame. Shards of glass stripped his skin as he was dragged off his feet, back inside the compound.


    Andy struggled helplessly as he was pinned to the floor. A huge hand gripped him by the skull, thumb digging under his jaw, pulling him to his knees. The room was dark by contrast, and his sunglasses didn¡¯t help, but he recognised the alpha mutant¡¯s carrion antler crown. His target had come to say bye to him, what a stroke of luck!


    ¡°Runty hummy¡¯s gunna look nice all skinned up on ma¡¯ wall.¡±  The mutant¡¯s palm smothered Andy¡¯s nose, stinking of filth. A low rumbling laugh rang in his uncovered ear. Blood trickled from the ogre mutant¡¯s skull where a chunk of it was missing, seemingly it didn¡¯t need that section of its brain.


    Andy choked on his Augmentation¡¯s hormones, mixed with adrenaline and unavoidable fear like a primal cocktail, shaken not stirred. His powers were useless without a gun, and he¡¯d never been that physically strong to begin with. Yet, a wisp of calm touched his nerves. Floating atop the waves of panic, like driftwood in a storm, came a voice from outside, sweet, yet stern. In a flash, Andy envisioned his revolver outside in the snow. He must have dropped Julie as he was dragged through the window. Now she was all alone, and cold, and calling to him.


    Andy clenched his jaw in the mutant¡¯s grasp. His teeth began to crack. Desperately, his Combat Conceptualisation protocol analysed his surroundings in a flash. The mutant had a hunting rifle slung over one shoulder, just out of reach. Andy had used up his last frag grenade, but he still had a light.


    Pulling the pin, Andy let a flashbang fall at his feet and screwed his eyes shut. Just as the pressure on his skull felt too much to withstand, the flashbang burst. The alpha mutant released its grip, staggering back, swinging its arms wildly.


    Drawing a combat knife from his hip, Andy leapt up and sliced the beast''s chest. The wound was shallow, but it tore through the strap of the rifle. Andy grabbed the weapon and fired, blasting a hole in the mutant¡¯s cheek bone. It¡¯s head snapped back, and it toppled into a desk. Andy fired again, aiming for its heart, painting the room with exit-wound spray, but the beast did not fall.


    The voice sang to him again, a whisper carried in on the wind from outside. Julie was waiting.


    The mutant toppled forward, hands outstretched to throttle Andy in its death¡¯s throes. Andy half-leapt through the window, but the mutant grabbed him around the waist. His revolver was just out of reach in the snow below him. His beloved.


    ¡°Don¡¯t leave me hanging, babe.¡±


    Andy¡¯s heart pounded as a wave of heat flushed through him. Suddenly, Julie jumped out of the snow and propelled into his outstretched hand. Clutching her to his chest, Andy let himself be dragged back through the window. Crouching below the mutant, he jammed her muzzle into the mutant¡¯s kneecap and fired. Julie screamed in his hands, blowing the limb apart. Kicking himself away, Andy rose shakily and aimed his revolver at the crippled animal. It heaved itself forward on massive arms, a grotesque agony on its punctured, bloodstained face.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Andy said. ¡°Hold that pose.¡± He retrieved a small camera which Clara had made him carry for the mission and pointed it at the mutant, making sure that Julie was in the frame. It made for a pretty POV killshot. ¡°Smile.¡±


    Andy clicked the camera¡¯s button and pulled the trigger. The mutant¡¯s head burst like a melon.


    A chime pinged inside his skull, reminding him of the ¡®seatbelts please¡¯ sign on an aeroplane. It had been years since Andy had last heard that sound. Attention: Affinity weapon configured. Synthesis in progress. Initial ability activated: Deadly Attraction.


    Andy admired Julie in his hand¨Cher slick mechanism, rustic curves, and polished smooth wooden handle. She was a joy to behold, the best weapon he¡¯d ever had. Distracted, it took him a moment to process what the AI had said.


    ¡°Wait, you did this?¡± He addressed the robot. ¡°I mean¡­ you helped bring Julie and me together?¡±


    Anomalous fixation on specified firearm identified. Experimental algorithm implemented to convert user fixation into functional capabilities.


    ¡°Anomalous fixation,¡± Andy scowled. ¡°Mind your language.¡± He spun Julie around his finger with glee. ¡°What¡¯s this deadly attraction you¡¯re on about?¡±


    Delineation¨CAffinity: Deadly Attraction, Tier 1: Due to ionised particles in the Gunslinger¡¯s blood, the Affinity weapon is attracted, comparable to a magnetic force, and may be summoned from a distance.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Andy fished into his pocket for the piece of paper Clara had written, holding it up. ¡°You mean like this stuff? The abilities?¡±


    Affirmative.


    ¡°So I have magnetic blood now?¡±


    That is an accurate approximation of the ability, with isolated application to the Affinity weapon.


    ¡°She¡¯s got a name, you know.¡± Andy tossed Julie in the air as he moved towards the window, dancing with her as though they were in a ballroom. She flew elegantly into his palms, resting her trigger on his finger like a lover¡¯s soft kiss to the cheek. Distracted, his foot knocked the mutant¡¯s corpse and he fumbled¨CJulie almost fell out of his hand, but he caught her just in time. ¡°Hey? How come it didn¡¯t work that time?¡±


    Uncalibrated abilities possess imperfections. New delineation¨CAffinity¨Cinstallation in progress: 1%. Proceed to an Augmentation Master Console to calibrate new abilities. Failure to do so will cause DNA mutation. Current mutation rate: 15%.


    ¡°There¡¯s always a catch.¡± Andy holstered Julie and patted her, moving towards the smashed window. ¡°Assuming I play along and go recalibrate, what else can you do for me and Jules?¡±


    Potential power spike detected as significant. Background upgrade programs activated and running for T-minus eleven-thousand and eighty-two hours. Current progression hindered by user inactivity.


    ¡°Hindered? Are you throwing shade?¡±


    Error: Jargon comprehension failure.


    ¡°Never mind,¡± Andy said. ¡°So, Julie and I are your muse?¡±


    User fixation identified. Coherent abilities undergoing development.


    Andy reckoned he wouldn¡¯t get a straight answer until he calibrated at an AMC. Footsteps thudded in the room above him and echoed down a nearby stairwell. He¡¯d lingered long enough. Andy unhooked his radio and chimed in. ¡°Took a detour. You ready to cover?¡±


    ¡°Ready,¡± Clara transmitted.


    Climbing through the broken glass window, sprinted towards the office block. Gunfire crackled behind him as Clara responded with suppressive fire, but mutants weren¡¯t easily suppressed. The same tactics you might use against humans rarely worked against the many monsters of the apocalypses.


    Unable to slow himself, Andy slammed into the building¡¯s brick wall and swung around the corner into cover. His long black hair stuck to his neck sweatily, despite the cold. Each breath was like icy daggers in his throat. His heartbeat pounded in his skull and his arms stung where the glass had cut them. Long streams of blood seeped over his fingers, mingling with Julie¡¯s mechanics. It trickled over her silver hammer, into her cylinder, and down her slender barrel, dripping to the pure snow below. Something about it struck Andy as beautiful. Not for the first time, Julie took his breath away.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Clara said, her round blue eyes were full of concern. She ran down the exterior stairwell, skipping two steps at a time, a hefty marksman¡¯s rifle slung over her shoulder. Andy gazed at his younger sister, half delirious from the cardio and blood loss. Her blonde ponytail bounced as she jumped to the ground, its tail sticking out the back of her black, brimmed cap. Grabbing him by the arm, she dragged him away towards the woods.


    ¡°Well that was sloppy, wasn¡¯t it?¡± she said. ¡°What happened to the plan of using finesse?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault,¡± Andy said, unlatching the voice modulator around his neck which was still making him sound mutant. ¡°It was that cheap fake nose, it kept falling off. I should get a refund.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t blame the nose,¡± Clara said. ¡°The nose was a great idea.¡± She inspected lacerations on his arms, bandaging the worst of them quickly. Beyond the treeline, gunshots chimed like the bells of a clifftop monastery as the mutants no doubt started fighting amongst themselves. Andy smiled, enjoying the song of chaos¨Chis triumphant anthem.


    ¡°You¡¯re good.¡± She offered a hand to help him up. ¡°Did you get any evidence?¡±


    Andy patted the camera at his waist. ¡°Took a few nice pics.¡±


    ¡°That should do.¡± They set off into the woods, heading towards where their jeep was parked on a mountain pass a couple miles away.


    ¡°Where now then?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Back to Quadra.¡± Clara grinned. ¡°It¡¯s payday.¡±


    For Andy, that meant more ammo, bigger guns, better booze, and a chance to put his feet up before Clara got them another job in the wasteland. Every contract was different. Next week, they might be fighting mutants, or demons, or travelling through nuclear fallout, disease and pestilence, or a thousand other apocalypses they had yet to encounter. It kept him on his toes. His sister had been pushing them into more dangerous contracts recently. Andy didn¡¯t mind the challenge, if anything, it made things more exciting, just so long as Clara wasn¡¯t in harm¡¯s way.


    As they trekked through the forest, Andy sobered up fast. The air grew unnervingly quiet. Andy wondered whether his nervousness was a part of himself, or more the Augmentation¡¯s hormones saturating his veins. Was there even a separation between anymore? It had been so long since the serum had invaded his bloodstream and changed him forever. For one thing, he¡¯d recently noticed a growth on his right foot, resembling an extra toe. The protrusion felt like a pebble in his boot.


    Warning: DNA corruption has reached lethal levels. Percentage of compromised DNA has increased to 16%


    ¡°Higher is better, right?¡± Andy said.


    Negative. Recalibrate DNA at an Augmentation Master Console to prevent irreparable damage.


    ¡°What¡¯s the AI saying?¡± Clara asked. Ahead, on the side of the road, concealed beneath a fallen branch was their jeep.


    ¡°Just that I¡¯m a dead man walking. DNA corruption.¡± Andy waved his hand in dismissal. ¡°It¡¯s no biggie.¡±


    ¡°No biggie?¡± Clara grabbed his arm. ¡°Andy, why didn¡¯t you tell me sooner?¡±


    Andy tried to wriggle free, but his sister had a firm grip. ¡°It says stuff like that all the time. It¡¯s just a ploy to get my attention.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid.¡± Clara scowled, letting him go. She lifted the branch and climbed inside their jeep. ¡°Once we¡¯re back in Quadra, you¡¯re recalibrating.¡±


    Andy groaned. The process was unnerving, like an enema in his mind, flushing out all the unpleasantness which he drank hard to keep down.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to look after yourself more,¡± Clara lectured, starting the engine. ¡°Or else you¡¯ll turn out like one of those mutants.¡±


    Andy jumped in the passenger seat, loosening his boots¡¯ laces.


    Attention: Potential power spike detected as significant. New delineation¨CAffinity¨Cinstallation progress: 2%. Please recalibrate at an Augmentation Master Console.


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing with Julie, right?¡± Andy asked his AI.


    Affirmative. Julie: Allocated name for Affinity weapon: .45 calibre revolver.


    ¡°Well, if she wants me to¡­¡± Andy patted Julie at his waist. ¡°Is that what you want, babe?¡±


    Julie hummed at his waist, filling him with warmth.


    Attention: New delineation installation progress: 3%.


    ¡°For the love of god, don¡¯t tell me every time.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Clara¡¯s scowl grew uncomfortable. ¡°Why are you stroking your gun like that? Is it a bit?¡± She snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m training, like you told me to.¡± Andy fished Clara¡¯s note out of his pocket. ¡°You can have this back by the way. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll need it anymore.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that then?¡±


    ¡°Things have changed, sis.¡± Andy winked. ¡°Julie and I are official.¡±

 Chapter 2 - Quadra

    ¡°We¡¯re in the shadows of a dying world,¡± Clara sang softly as she drove through the old mountainous roads. The album had spun five times since they had departed the mutant infested satellite compound earlier that evening¨Cit was stuck inside the jeep¡¯s antiquated CD player. She didn¡¯t know the name of the musicians, but liked to imagine it was the spirit of the jeep singing to her¨Cyeah, it was a goofy fantasy, but stranger things had happened in the wasteland.


    Outside, the dark of night drew a curtain across the rocky pass. Mist sparkled in the jeep¡¯s headlights. Clara¡¯s wrist terminal indicated that they would reach Quadra by sunrise. Until then, with Andy fast asleep in the passenger seat, she enjoyed the rare moment of quiet, mentally preparing for her meeting with their employer Old Blue Eyes. The price was already negotiated: guns, ammo, supplies, fuel and access to an Augmentation Master Console so that Andy could recalibrate his abilities; but there was something else she intended to ask for¨Ca chance to prove themselves.


    Andy stirred in his sleep, muttering to himself. Clara wondered if the AI voice in his head was communicating with him in his dreams, or whether he was just regular muttering. She didn¡¯t have a clue how all that stuff worked, Andy never explained it to her, not even the basics. She only knew that he should be recalibrating at an Augmentation Master Console a lot more. Neglecting to do so had stunted his growth, and now she¡¯d learned that there were even potential health risks as the serum altered his DNA unchecked.


    If Clara had a power like his, she would treat it a lot differently. She would train and comb over the data provided by the AMC, searching for new ways to advance her powers, new limitations to breach. But Andy seemed content with just about getting by. Therefore, Clara¡¯s plan was to raise the bar¨Cpush them into more dangerous territories on harder missions, stress his limitations and force him to adapt. Otherwise, they¡¯d be stuck doing low-paying mercenary jobs for the rest of their lives, until one of them caught a bullet or a bite. Call it wishful thinking, but Clara hoped that there was more to life than that.


    As the sun rose, the valley widened and pastures replaced forests. Sheep and cows grazed behind ramshackle fences, guarded by shepherds and dogs. Ahead, a car approached them from around the bend. It leaned sideways, stopping on the road, half-blocking their path. Clara slowed their jeep and drew her pistol, holding it in her lap, safety off. Beside her, Andy slept. This probably wasn¡¯t worth waking him over.


    A man leaned out of the car window, sitting on the frame. He waved her down. Clara scanned him for weapons, but kept her eyes on the driver¡¯s side. If this was an ambush, the man waving was just a distraction.


    ¡°Need a top up, lovely,¡± the man yelled.


    Clara pulled up beside their compact economic car, looking down from the window of her jeep into the car¡¯s back seats. The cushions had been stripped to make room for a dozen large barrels. ¡°Sorry, this baby doesn¡¯t run on dilute.¡±


    ¡°Dilute?¡± he whined. ¡°Who said anything about dilute?¡±


    ¡°Me.¡± Clara winked and revved their engine loudly, bouncing over the verge, around the jockey¡¯s vehicle and off down the road. Fuel jockeys were always trying tricks; if it wasn¡¯t diluting their haul or sticking a tube into your gas tank, it was trying to intimidate customers. She had a personal experience of the trade.


    The sky grew vibrant as they neared their destination. Clara slowed the jeep as they passed a convoy of traders travelling down the muddy road out of Quadra. Muscular horses drew three wagons made from the stripped hulls of rusty old cars. The trader''s clothes were a patchwork of scavenged garments: sports, military, civilian clothes, all unified by a coat of grime. The skin of their hands was like worn leather. They kept one eye on the jeep as she passed, crude firearms slung over their shoulders. Clara caught the eye of a woman who wore a veil over her mouth, the tail end of a scar disfiguring her brow. There was something sinister in her one remaining eye, bitterness, perhaps something else.


    Clara watched the traders depart in her wing mirror. Two children peeked through the curtain draped over the boot of the rear wagon. Their faces were partially obscured by her jeep¡¯s fumes, like the memory of a friend whom she couldn¡¯t recall. Clara stifled a pang of guilt for having not helped them in some way. But what could she do? What could she spare? Rations maybe? Water? It was already too late; their wagons rattled down the pitted road, heading into the mountain range, beyond the protection of Quadra¡¯s influence and into the wasteland propper. Clara wondered what sort of a life waited for them out there?


    The valley abruptly narrowed, and at its recesses was a looming mountain, whose flanks bowed and stretched over the valley, embracing Quadra in its enormous lap. The settlement climbed up the cliff¡¯s semi-circular face like a coliseum. A latticework of wooden walkways and shacks peaked over the city¡¯s perimeter like unruly bird nests. Below them, the city hid behind its scrapyard defences: a trench spanned the perimeter, diverting water from a nearby lake to form a moat, dug before a wall of derelict cars stacked like bricks, four-high and laced with barbed wire, too rusted and jagged to climb. Smoke stacks rose from the bowls of the settlement, carrying on the wind the rich promise of warmth and cooked food, which coaxed Clara¡¯s foot on the gas pedal a notch more.


    Above it all, at the mountain¡¯s peak, Quadra tower raised its four-flagged standard accompanied by satellite dishes dotting its stem like silver grapes, catching the glow of the morning sun. Each flag on the tower represented one of the four clans who ruled the settlement at its base: The Harmonies, a smartly dressed, well organised gang with whom she and Andy were employed; the Grizzlies, a tribe of warriors and hunters who relied on primitive technology and weapons; the Fadeaways, a council of degenerates and drug lords who controlled Quadra¡¯s Underbelly, providing a cheap workforce to the others; and the Visionaries, an elusive cult of cartographers who studied the cataclysm and the world, searching for answers where others only accepted reality. Quadra was the largest modern settlement that Clara had ever seen, built entirely after the cataclysm¨Ca hotbed for merceneering.


    Ahead, two wood-built watchtowers stood on either side of the gate: a hand-cranked slab of welded sheet metal. Clara rolled to a stop and killed the engine, and sat back, waiting for the guards to approach. An older man with a thick moustache signalled for them to get out. Clara rolled her eyes and obeyed, making sure to keep her hands visible at her sides, and away from the sidearm at her waist.


    ¡°State your business,¡± the guard said, all too casually rested a hand on the pistol at his hip. Clara glanced back at Andy, relieved to see he was still dozing. He wasn¡¯t the most tactful teammate when it came to dealing with authority.


    ¡°I¡¯m Clara, a mercenary. We were out on a mission for Old Blue Eyes. Just coming back.¡±


    ¡°Two of you?¡± The guard asked. He was wearing a white button shirt and smart trousers and polished black shoes¨Cthe uniform of the Harmonies, of whom Old Blue Eyes was their boss. His lack of suit, vest or bowtie indicated that he was lowly ranked amongst the clan.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Clara said. There was a silence between them. The guard seemed to expect Clara to elaborate; it was a tactic she was all too familiar with, intended to make her feel uncomfortable. She didn¡¯t budge.


    ¡°Is he going to say hello?¡± the guard asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s sleeping.¡±


    ¡°Is he shy?¡±


    Clara laughed. ¡°Oh yeah, terrified.¡±


    He scowled. ¡°Mind if I check your vehicle, young lady?¡±


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± Clara said, sickly sweet, turning her back on him. She sat in the driver¡¯s seat while he strode around the vehicle.


    ¡°There trouble?¡± Andy murmured, half asleep, shrouded by his jet-black fringe.


    ¡°No,¡± Clara said. ¡°Just some new guy showing off.¡±


    ¡°Want me to kill him for you?¡± Andy said deadpan, stretching like a cat beneath his blanket.


    Clara laughed nervously, checking that the guard hadn¡¯t heard him. ¡°I think we¡¯re alright.¡±


    ¡°Relax,¡± Andy yawned. ¡°I¡¯m joking.¡±


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Once the watchman had satisfied his curiosity, he signalled to the gatekeepers. The barricade screeched as it was cranked upwards, revealing Quadra¡¯s mountainous basin. Built around the mouth of an industrial-sized railway tunnel, timber lodges, storehouses and barracks clustered under their clans¡¯ banner. The buildings were divided by white chalk roads, at the edges of which dark leafless shrubs sprouted, adding a splash of subdued colour to Quadra¡¯s monochrome neighbourhood. Chalky residue covered everything, the timber, people¡¯s clothes and vehicle wheels. A marketplace sprawled before them¨Cmerchants sold their scavenged and upcycled wares out of the backs of trucks and wagons. A black van bore a sign erected on its roof: FUEL. There were a lot of fuel jockeys in the area¨CQuadra was a popular spot for people wealthy enough to run an engine.


    Clara veered towards the garage¨Ca row of parking spaces sheltering beneath a leaky corrugated roof¨Cand disembarked, waving a mechanic over.


    ¡°Need any work, miss?¡± the mechanic asked.


    ¡°Fill her up,¡± she said, ¡°on Blue Eyes¡¯ tab. There are canisters in the back for diesel and oil. I¡¯ll know if you¡¯ve watered them down.¡± Clara fetched her rifle and rucksack from the back seat while Andy stumbled out of the jeep into the morning sun. His long black hair fell in knots over his back, sunglasses crooked on his face as he meandered away, pulling his leather jacket tight over his skinny shoulders. Clara could smell the hangover on him.


    ¡°You don¡¯t fancy collecting with me then?¡± Clara asked.


    Andy waved the question away, dragging his feet in the general direction of Lackey¡¯s¨Ca bar frequented by the local militia and mercenaries.


    ¡°Don¡¯t disappear,¡± Clara said, leaving him to roam. He could handle himself, and she was better off negotiating by herself. Once their jeep was filled, Clara parked in an alcove, stowed their most valuable supplies in a lockbox in the boot then locked the doors. She set off towards their lodgings on the far wall of the mountainside, passing by the Grizzlies¡¯ headquarters along her way. Built like a viking longhouse, a fire pit smouldered the length of the lavishly decorated hall. Banners and trophy heads hung from the walls¨Cbeasts from the mountains and surrounding apocalypse zones. Clara identified the skulls of mutants, stags, minotaurs and other beasts she had never seen before with their bodies still attached.


    Clara¡¯s mouth watered as the smell of cooking meat wafted from the courtyard ahead. It had been two weeks since she¡¯d had a proper warm meal¨Cnothing but rations and stream water since then. Following her nose, she spotted a cauldron steaming in the centre of the wide courtyard. A chef dished out ladles of stew and flatbread to hundreds of hungry citizens, watched over by the prying eyes of the Fadeaways¡¯ militia. Armed with clubs and whips, the Fadeaways wore black cowls over their faces, masking them like ethereal shades. Families formed small clusters with basic tree-stump benches. The atmosphere was calm, if a little depressing. Once their brief breakfast was up, they would have to say goodbye to the pale morning sunlight until tomorrow, as the Fadeaways forced them back into the Underbelly to work.


    The symphony of Quadra echoed off of its amphitheatre walls, raining down upon Clara. Dogs yapped over the rustling of pots and pans and the morning murmur. Behind her, the clang of tools from the garage competed for dominance over the distant ring of pickaxes coming from Quadra¡¯s massive tunnel system: the Underbelly. Once used as a railway to carry large machinery from factories inland, the tunnel had caved in many years ago during the cataclysm. Now, the majority of Quadra¡¯s residents lived and worked in those dingey caves. Some mined new alcoves for businesses to set up shop, whereas others occupied the interior market, wherein anyone could satisfy their appetites for substance or service. The Underbelly offered refuge to anyone, at a price. Those who couldn¡¯t pay often fell into slavery, working in the coal mines south of the settlement, or on the farms to the west. It was all part of a complex economy wherein toil and perseverance were the main currency, while violence and power reigned at the peak.


    Somebody sang from high above the settlement, where timber shacks climbed the cliff face. Women hung clothes out to dry in the mountain breeze while children played amongst the precarious web of woodwork. Nearby, masons were laying the foundations for a sixth-story expansion. The clang of their hammers echoed across the rocky basin, bouncing back on itself discordantly. Clara¡¯s hand searched for her small silver watch, but it was absent from her wrist. The cacophony of voices and movements and smells swept her up in a current as though she was back on the southern coast of England, just twelve years old again, standing on the beach with Andy, beholding the magnitude of the sea with the tide tugging at her ankles, daring her to drown.


    Clara ducked into the shade of a shack and shut her eyes to breathe. The sensation of anxiety had taken her by surprise. She wasn¡¯t normally like this, but the crowd had unearthed something deep within her mind¨Cthe panic of a stampede and the first few days of the cataclysm. Clara took a deep breath. She was underslept, that¡¯s all. Fatigued.


    Opening her eyes, she spotted an old man sitting alone at the edge of the courtyard. He wore a ragged straw hat, torn cotton shirt and frayed denim shorts. His skin was wrinkled and tanned. He did not seem to have a family. Nobody bothered him, sitting with his stew and flatbread. A small bird landed beside him, and the old man turned his head, tearing off a crumb and placing it gently on his bench. It reminded Clara of her grandad. The bird tentatively hopped towards him, then scuttled for the crumb and flew away. A smile approached the old man¡¯s lips, then faded away. He didn¡¯t notice Clara as she strode by, he just stared off after the bird into the morning sky.


    Taking a deep breath to stretch her lungs, Clara headed towards their lodge. A rickety ramp led upwards through the latticework of shacks, shaded by the cliff. Clara surveyed Quadra from above as she travelled, pinpointing her employer¡¯s headquarters, a large timber mansion built upon stone foundations. The flag above always reminded Clara of a flower bearing seven blue outer petals and six black inner petals. Beneath it, Clara was eager to meet with Old Blue Eyes, but first, she needed to make herself presentable.


    Finding their shack three rows high, Clara unlocked the padlocked latch and swung open the rickety door. It was a simple room, undecorated, smelling of wet wood¨Ca glorified lockbox for them and their gear. But at least they didn¡¯t have to worry about getting robbed; the insignia on the door signified that it was protected by the Harmonies.


    Clara scrubbed herself with soap and a rag, then dressed in clean clothes from the locker¨Cthe same outfit as always¨Ccamo trousers, black vest and her favourite combat jacket, with all its pockets and compartments for gadgets and gizmos.


    Venturing down through the hive of walkways into Quadra¡¯s basin, Clara reached the Harmonies¡¯ district and greeted the guards outside their headquarters. ¡°Morning chaps.¡±


    Each of the men were dressed in waistcoats and bowler hats to boot. Their firearms were concealed, partly to maintain the aesthetic, but it had a psychological effect on Clara as well, as though they were saying: ¡®We don¡¯t need to flaunt our strength.¡¯ It exuded an air of professionalism which made Clara pleased to be working for them. It was a world away from some of the barbarous warlords she and Andy had done jobs for in the past.


    One guard doffed his hat and opened the door. Inside was a reception area. Sunlight shone through a glass window. A woman wearing a smart suit sat at a low piano, the top of which was covered in maps and stacks of papers. Beside her, a young boy in a button-up shirt twinkled on the keys. Electrical cables ran along the tops of the walls, feeding power to a single desk lamp and electric kettle¨Ca flagrant display of opulence.


    ¡°Hello there, young lady,¡± the woman behind the piano said. She was maybe twice Clara¡¯s age, with long black hair, dyed jet black to the roots. ¡°I¡¯ve got to say, I love your outfit.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thank you.¡± Clara looked down at her dirty camo trousers, black vest and military jacket. ¡°It¡¯s just my work clothes.¡±


    ¡°Well you look fabulous. Very authentic. Can I get you a drink?¡±


    ¡°Yes please.¡± Clara blushed despite herself. She knew she was being buttered up by the receptionist, but after two weeks on the road, washing in rivers and sleeping in the backseat of their jeep listening to Andy snore, she¡¯d take all the buttering she could get. ¡°I¡¯m here to see Blue Eyes,¡± Clara said, approaching the desk


    ¡°Oh.¡± The woman looked her up and down. Something was communicated in her glance that Clara didn¡¯t quite understand, but left her feeling uncomfortable. ¡°Like that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here to collect on a mission,¡± Clara said quickly, then took a breath to comprehend the woman¡¯s reaction. ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t mean anything by it,¡± the receptionist fretted, averting her eyes. ¡°I just¡­ I didn¡¯t know what the nature of this visit was.¡±


    ¡°Professional,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Well, regardless, if you would like to use my makeup kit, I would happily lend you it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s alright, thanks.¡± Clara took a seat in a row against the wall.


    ¡°Can you believe we used to pay so much money for these,¡± the receptionist continued, holding up a handbag of paints and brushes. ¡°I suppose maybe you don¡¯t, you look very young. I mean that as a compliment.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Clara said.


    The woman paused, as though expecting Clara to say something else. ¡°Now I have boxes and boxes of them. Can¡¯t get rid of them.¡± She hooted. ¡°A lifetime¡¯s supply. Please, take one.¡± She placed the handbag on the counter. ¡°Us women have to look out for one another,¡± she winked.


    ¡°Oh, thanks.¡± Clara took the makeup kit and rifled through it. She swallowed under the woman¡¯s scrutinous gaze, trying to think of something else to say about the gift. It reminded her of being a kid and receiving bath bombs from her mother one Christmas. At first, Clara had been excited, but upon dropping them into the bath that night, the water hadn¡¯t detonated¨Ca tidal wave hadn¡¯t consumed the bathroom¨Cthey¡¯d just fizzled out. That disappointment still stuck with her.


    ¡°There¡¯s eyeshadow and concealer and lipstick and blush,¡± the woman sang, rhythmically pointing to her own face with a delicate finger. ¡°A girl with natural beauty like yours shouldn¡¯t hide it under that cap.¡±


    Clara scoffed, but before she could respond, a door opened and a young boy wearing a tiny waistcoat entered. ¡°Clara and Andy?¡± he asked. ¡°Are you the merc, Ma¡¯am?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°What about Andy?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s absent today.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± The boy opened the door wide. ¡°Old Blue Eyes is almost ready. Follow me, please.¡±

 Chapter 3 - Old Blue Eyes

    The mansion of Old Blue Eyes was decorated in a random garble of scavenged lavishes. The floors were laden with eclectic rugs, none of the furniture matched. Clara climbed to the third floor and followed a corridor towards his boss¡¯ office. Pictures and paintings filled every blank space on the walls, depicting rock stars of the past, technical schematics on blue backgrounds, paintings of foreign peaceful landscapes and even photographs taken during the cataclysm. Clara¡¯s eyes lingered on one photo: a stampede of terrified people fleeing through the streets from a swarm of rats, so many that the rodents cascaded in waves. One woman faced the photographer, a silent scream held on her lips. Clara shivered and looked away.


    Clara knocked on the ornate oak doors to Old Blue Eyes¡¯ office. The smell of fabric softener and perfume rode on a draft of cigarette smoke as the doors were opened and she was admitted inside. Two large windows overlooked a private garden in the centre of the Harmonies¡¯ district. The sun shone softly through red velvet curtains, an assortment of wardrobes lined the walls¨CClara counted eight in total. One was open, displaying an array of suits. Beside it, Old Blue Eyes was standing with two others, a tailor and a smartly dressed soldier of the gang.


    ¡°Ah, Clara,¡± Blue Eyes spoke with a baritone gravitas that swept across the room like a trombone. ¡°Take a seat, this won¡¯t take much longer.¡± The older man was dressed impeccably as usual, in a grey dot-chequered suit and trousers with a navy blue bowler cap and a black tie. Clara sat in an enormous lounge chair, almost swallowed between its arms, fidgeting with the button of her military jacket. Blue Eyes and the tailor passionately discussed the suit they had selected for the third man, crooning at the fit of the shoulders, purring at the length of the cuff, chirping at the sharpness of the collar. The man whom they dressed stood to attention, unmoving, chin raised high. Among the Harmonies, the quality of one¡¯s suit reflected one¡¯s rank, while accessories such as bowties and bowler caps were awarded like medals.


    ¡°Wow, yes,¡± Blue Eyes announced. ¡°That is perfect. It suits his frame wonderfully. What do you think, Metcalf?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very good sir,¡± the Harmony replied. ¡°Very good.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Blue Eyes clapped his hands. ¡°But what about this tie?¡±


    Clara inspected the contents of her boss¡¯ dark oak desk while she waited. She had only met with the man once before in person, and found herself intrigued with his life¨Cof course, it was better to negotiate if she understood him on a more personal level. An obsidian crystal jutted out of a frozen explosion of sparkling shards. A small standing mirror pointed at the desk¡¯s throne, behind which hung five paintings of musicians coated in sweat, belting into microphones, striking guitars and caressing keys. A world of wonder blossomed inside Clara¡¯s mind. She knew so little about the world before the cataclysm, and these heroes of the past, who rallied crowds of millions simply by the power of their voices and instruments.


    A peculiar book caught Clara¡¯s eye, the spine of which was glued together and tied with threads. The laminated cover bore a hand-drawn insignia, framed by elaborate drawings of DNA strands. It wasn¡¯t like books of old¨Csturdy and machine manufactured¨Cthis manuscript was battered, seemingly well read and travelled, and painstakingly written by hand.


    ¡°Well deserved too, Lieutenant,¡± Blue Eyes said, drawing her attention away from the modern book. ¡°You showed those fishfolk how to dance quite a jig, I hear.¡±


    ¡°I did sir.¡±


    ¡°Then you must enjoy your days¡¯ leave. You¡¯ve earned it. Theador, fetch Lieutenant Metcalf something to see him on his way.¡±


    The tailor handed the man a fistfull of railway spikes tied together in a bundle¨Cthe currency of Quadra.


    ¡°I hear the ladies do a little something extra for a man in a suit,¡± Blue eyes said, taking a step closer to the Lieutenant and lowering his voice a touch as though to conspire. ¡°But don¡¯t ask me, I wouldn¡¯t know anything about that.¡±


    The Harmony man blushed and grinned, then straightened his expression, saluted and departed. Two guards opened the office door before him; both wore suits, one white, one black in contrast to the tone of each man¡¯s skin, a bold fashion statement. Whatever weaponry they possessed was hidden within their ensemble.


    ¡°Good work, Theador,¡± Blue Eyes said to his tailor.


    ¡°My pleasure, sir.¡± The tailor was carefully brushing the suits which they¡¯d procured, returning them to their selected wardrobes. He had a classical British accent which Clara had only ever heard being imitated before; being from England herself, she didn¡¯t think people actually spoke like that.


    ¡°Well Clara.¡± Blue Eyes turned to her. His tone transformed into a slowed to a business-like manner. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see that you are well, and beautiful as always. What of the mutants? Worse for wear I should hope?¡±


    ¡°A lot worse, yes.¡± Clara cleared her throat, a small spike of adrenaline putting a vibrato in her voice. ¡°We figured out who the alpha was and assassinated him, along with a good number of high ranking mutants from the different tribes. When we left them, they were already shooting at each other to prove who was the new boss. Your assets should be safe.¡±


    Blue Eyes lounged in his throne, a soft smile on his lips that seemed at odds with the intensity of his stare. A trilby hat sat atop his head, tilted to almost obscure his sapphire eyes which twinkled like stars in the darkening sky. He expressed the exuberance of a man half his age, yet with the wisdom and charm of experience.


    ¡°Cigarette, Clara? Oh, no. You don¡¯t smoke.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Your partner smokes though, correct?¡± Blue Eyes struck a match and lit a cigarette. ¡°Where is he?¡±


    ¡°He needed rest,¡± Clara said, a little too quickly.


    Blue Eyes took a long drag of his cigarette, the smoke rose lazily to the ceiling where a candle chandelier hung from the wooden beams. ¡°I hope this job wasn¡¯t too much for him. You know, of the three mercenary teams I commissioned, you¡¯re the only ones to have come back alive so far, and in quick fashion.¡±


    ¡°I hope the others are safe.¡± Clara hadn¡¯t known about the other teams¨Chadn¡¯t known that there had been an element of competition. She was glad to hear they¡¯d won.


    ¡°They will discover soon enough that the job is already done, and come home.¡± Blue Eyes dragged, tapping into a crystal ashtray, then returned his attention to her, looking her up and down. He squinted and started singing. ¡°You can go to extremes with impossible schemes¡­ if you¡¯re young at heart.¡± He held up a glass, and a serving boy took it to fill from a liquor cabinet. ¡°Do you have any evidence?¡± Blue Eyes said, all business-like again.


    ¡°Yes, I do.¡±


    ¡°You may send any documents to me,¡± Theador interjected, tapping his wrist terminal. He had a similar model to Clara¡¯s, made by the Bulwark Project, the same company who invented the Augmentation serum and kept humanity from the brink of destruction eight years ago. Clara booted her terminal out of standby and searched for his transmission request and sent him the images which Andy had taken on the digital camera. Once, Clara had worked for a clan who required a severed head on the desk as evidence that their mission was a success, but the Harmonies preferred to keep a clean record. Information was valuable, literally. People traded guns and ammunition for information on the apocalypse zones. You might feel like a badass carrying around a .50 calibre rifle, but it wouldn¡¯t come in much use if you had to traverse a zone ravaged by freak storms, or escape a city plagued by a swarm of rats. Clara¡¯s eyes unconsciously shifted towards the corridor and the photo outside.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Theador transmitted the photographic evidence onto a wall-hanging monitor, then returned to grooming his suits.


    ¡°Ugly things,¡± Blue Eyes said, swirling his tumbler of whiskey and ice. ¡°It makes you wonder, doesn''t it? Why are they here?¡±


    The mutants were in the northern mountains because they occupied the arid territory to the west, and had expanded over the years as their species multiplied; but Clara assumed that wasn¡¯t the answer which Blue Eyes was looking for. During her travels, she had found the older a person was, the more they seemed to contend with the reality of the apocalypses, like a cognitive glitch, as though they were searching for a generational answer to a grand question: why had this happened? To Clara, the world before the cataclysm was just a blur¨Ca few disparate memories of her childhood. She had grown up in the new world, learned its tricks and figured out how to survive, while so many others withered in the shadows of the old world unable to abandon the old rules of the game. There were few like Old Blue Eyes who had rolled with the punches and built something out of the ruins. Yet, there was still that pause in his breath and that look in his eye as though he didn¡¯t quite believe what he was seeing, and required a second glance. Often, in the wasteland, all you got was one look, one chance.


    ¡°Remind me,¡± Blue Eyes said, rousing himself from deep thought. ¡°What was the payment we agreed upon?¡±


    Clara considered embellishing the price promised, but it was an old habit, admittedly a little childish. ¡°We¡¯re on your tab for the mission; that¡¯s fuel, supplies and ammunition. And fifty spikes for payment.¡±


    Blue Eyes nodded.


    ¡°Also, we want to use your AMC again to calibrate Andy¡¯s Augmentation. Oh, plus Andy wants to take a peak in your armoury.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s how I remember it. I am happy to oblige,¡± Blue Eyes said.


    ¡°And one more thing,¡± Clara said.


    Blue Eyes tilted his head, raising an eyebrow, which rose underneath the rim of his trilby.


    ¡°Five minutes of your time.¡±


    ¡°Ten for being so lovely,¡± Blue Eyes said. ¡°Fifteen if you share a drink with me.¡±


    Clara¡¯s heart beat a little faster, but she didn¡¯t let it waver her, she knew his flirting was just a ploy. ¡°It will only take five.¡±


    The older man was silent, his eyes like spotlights, basking her in his attention.


    ¡°We want better work,¡± Clara said. She had thought of more tactful ways to phrase it on the journey over here, but when it came to it, simplicity was the best. ¡°We¡¯re not that challenged by mutants, or killer cattle, or crab people. The mothman you had us chasing a few months ago turned out to just be a guy in a costume, not an apocalypse at all, just some crazy guy stealing from farms. We don¡¯t want trivial work. We don¡¯t want to travel the same roads with trade caravans every summer. This job with the mutants,¡± Clara motioned to the gruesome images on the monitor. ¡°It proves our worth. You said it yourself. Four teams, and we¡¯re the first ones back with the mission done. We deserve better work. More like this, and more.¡±


    Blue Eyes finished his cigarette, twisting the butt in the ashtray. ¡°How skilled is he, your partner? How reliable is he?¡±


    ¡°I trust him with my life.¡±


    ¡°And should I trust him with my enterprise?¡±


    Clara paused. ¡°We work as a team. What you can trust me with, you can trust him with as well.¡±


    Blue Eyes leaned over his desk. ¡°What¡¯s to stop him from disobeying you, or betraying you?¡±


    Clara scowled.


    ¡°Excuse my forwardness,¡± Blue Eyes said. ¡°I must ask these questions now so that I¡¯m not disappointed later.¡±


    ¡°Andy would never betray me.¡± The words tasted like she¡¯d bitten into a rotten apple.


    ¡°He has been Augmented for¡­ how long?¡±


    Clara considered a lie, as the truth was somewhat embarrassing. Andy had been Augmented for six years, yet in that time, his abilities had developed very little. Clara had thought it was normal until she bumped into an Augmented bounty hunter at a bar three years ago¨Ca Sonic Specialist archetype¨Cwhose abilities had advanced three and four tiers in as many years. He had developed a plethora of weapons and utility, all contained within his modified genetic code. The man himself had appeared detached if a little depressed, removed from the world of man and placed into something else.


    But Andy was already removed. He was insane. If he improved his abilities, it could only benefit them both¨Cadvance their career as mercenaries¨Cyet his unwillingness to practise his aim and calibrate his powers at an AMC stunted him. The fact that, after six years, his AI had installed only one new ability said worse than Clara wanted to admit.


    ¡°A long time,¡± she said. ¡°However, for years we didn¡¯t know what it was. We didn¡¯t know about the Augmentation Master Consoles and calibrating abilities and delineations and archetypes. There was no pamphlet that came with the serum. Honestly, I¡¯m still learning. But he¡¯s good with what he¡¯s got.¡±


    Blue Eyes nodded. ¡°Six years. We have his records from when you last calibrated with us¡­¡± He flicked through a terminal on his desk, raising his eyebrows. ¡°In spring. Why the wait?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to be honest,¡± Clara said. ¡°He¡¯s unmotivated. Our career is stale. We need something to push us, a challenge. Give us something, you won¡¯t be disappointed.¡±


    Clara held Blue Eyes¡¯ gaze, she did not waver before the sharpness of his eyes, did not bow her head as her heartbeat rose, and kept her hands¨Csweaty as they were¨Cfirmly by her side.


    ¡°There is something,¡± Blue Eyes conceded, raising his glass to his serving boy for a refill. ¡°I am sending a relief party to Marsay city. Some of my men are doing important work there. Classified. Yet lady luck has not smiled generously upon them. They have been waylaid by¡­ it still feels strange to say this, but zombies. They¡¯ve stopped returning my calls.¡± He sipped his whiskey. ¡°Does that sound like something in your expertise?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Clara didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°What zombies?¡±


    ¡°My reports are mixed, aren¡¯t they Theador?¡±


    The tailor was still busy brushing suits; he seemed to savour the task. ¡°Very mixed, sir.¡±


    ¡°Some folks claim that the undead are docile things, men and women without souls, holding to the shadows, lamenting their long departed humanity. However, others have sworn to have been chased down and attacked by large groups of them. Theador will send you the specifics.¡±


    Clara opened her terminal for communications and accepted the tailor¡¯s download. ¡°What about the surrounding apocalypse zones and the route there?¡±


    ¡°There will be a briefing later today. I trust you can be ready to depart swiftly in the morning.¡± Blue Eyes rose from his desk and turned to face the window. ¡°I have hired two teams already. You will meet with them tonight, and one of my seniors will explain the details.¡±


    Two other teams. Clara¡¯s heart sank. ¡°That¡­ complicates things.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡± Blue Eyes said without turning.


    ¡°Andy and I work better alone.¡±


    ¡°Your partner doesn¡¯t play nice with others?¡±


    ¡°He¡­¡± Clara hesitated. ¡°The likelihood of mission success is much higher if we work alone. We¡¯ll be more discreet that way.¡±


    ¡°Discretion may be necessary,¡± Blue Eyes said, ¡°But so might force. You¡¯ll find out once you are there.¡±


    Clara chewed her lip. She could agree to the terms, then separate from the other mercs once they got started. Besides, the option of backup might come in handy.


    ¡°Sis,¡± Andy¡¯s voice buzzed over her radio. ¡°You there?¡±


    Clara unfastened the receiver and returned ¡°Over.¡±


    ¡°Before you freak out, I¡¯ve got this under control.¡± Andy¡¯s voice crackled louder than it should have over the distance of the transmission. Was the signal in Quadra really that bad?


    ¡°Got what under control?¡± Clara lowered her voice and pressed her mouth into the microphone, turning down the speaker volume.


    ¡°Remember those blokes who jacked our wheels last summer, left us stranded?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Well, I asked them for our wheels back.¡±


    Clara bolted out of her seat, startling the guards by the door, who reached for their concealed weapons. Clara raised her arms in the air non-threateningly. ¡°I need to go.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Blue Eyes said. ¡°Shall we see you in the evening?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Theador will see you out.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± Clara said, striding through the oak door. She paced down the corridor briskly, waiting until she was out of sight before breaking into a run. Jumping down the stairs, darting through the reception area and outside, Clara could hear the distant thud of gunfire. ¡°Where are you?¡± she radioed.


    ¡°Around the side of Lackeys,¡± Andy said. ¡°Had to make a little retreat. Turns out-¡± The transmission ended, punctuated by gunfire.

 Chapter 4 - Drunken Gunslinger

    Wood chip shrapnel burst above Andy¡¯s head as he ducked through the nearest doorway. Slamming and pressing his back against the door, he held his breath¨Cand a bottle of beer¨Clistening for danger as his eyes adjusted to the dark. It was quiet inside the building, only the thud of gunfire on the outside wall cut through. Okay, so there were more of them than he¡¯d expected. Clearly, the mercs who had robbed them a few months back had more friends in Lackey''s bar than Andy did. Why was that, Andy wondered? He was easy to get along with, wasn¡¯t he?


    Squinting, Andy saw that he was inside a warehouse. Burlap sacks and crates were stacked to the rafters. Andy finished his beer¨Ca nice crisp drink, locally brewed, mixed with lemons¨Ctossed the bottle and climbed on top of a couple crates to get a lay of the room. Avenues cut through the wares, a maze of supplies¨Cfood and scavenged goods¨Cstretching towards two large double doors at the other side, the only other exit. Light shone through a crack in the doors, and through several patches in the ceiling, illuminating sabres of dust in the air.


    Suddenly, the small access door opened behind him. Three men dashed inside, each moving in opposite directions. Andy drew Julie and killed the first with a clean headshot, then clipped another in the foot as he darted for cover. A blast exploded beside Andy¡¯s head. Skidding from his perch, Andy yelped as a second blast winged him. Taking cover, Andy patted himself down. His leather jacket was poked with shrapnel, but he wasn¡¯t bleeding. The merc must have loaded birdshot, not buckshot. What an amateur. His last mistake.


    Dashing around the flank, drunk as he was, Andy did not falter. When he slipped on a stray rope, he used the momentum to carry himself forward, bouncing off a heavy barrel. He did not fight against his imbalance, but rather swayed with it as a leaf upon a river of booze. Something within Andy guided him, whispering directions, tugging on him like a magnet. A pinch of instinct, a dash of practice and a tablespoon of Augmentation serum.


    Andy twisted on the ball of his foot like a child¡¯s spinning toy, ready to topple, rounding on his foe''s exposed position. Emptying the cylinder of his revolver, Andy marvelled at the carnage Julie wreaked. Wood chips and plumes of flour burst into the air like miniature smoke grenades. Once the barrage was over, Andy knelt in the shadows, listening for movement in the dim light, quietly reloading. There was stillness, then a dragging sound. One of the mercs must still be alive.


    Andy stalked towards his prey. As the disturbance settled, he spotted a body in the wreckage. The man¡¯s face was half painted white from dust and flour like a mime¡¯s makeup. His eyes rolled in opposite directions as Andy nudged the body over, and his tongue flopped out of his shattered jaw. Suddenly, he began to dance, a brief grotesque performance of his twitching, dying body.


    Nearby, tracks in the debris led towards an alcove of stacked barrels. One barrel was pierced, leaking a clear liquid. Liquor. It stung Andy¡¯s eyes and roused his stomach. Another man was huddled in the alcove, shivering and holding his wounds. He was not armed. Not a threat. Andy straightened, filling his hip flask at the leaky barrel¡¯s spurt. He sampled the booze. It was cheap and vegetably, some amalgamation of vodka. Gulping it down, Andy checked his surroundings again. They were alone, for now.


    ¡°Want some?¡± he said.


    The cowering man¡¯s face convulsed in pain and disbelief. Andy tossed the flask into his lap. After a moment¡¯s hesitation, he picked it up with a shaky, bloody hand and put it to his lips. He was young, Andy noticed now. They were probably about the same age.


    ¡°Mercy,¡± he said.


    Andy raised an eyebrow. ¡°Really?¡±


    The man wet his lips and coughed. ¡°Please.¡±


    This is how Andy was repaid for his kindness, begging. There was a code amongst mercenaries, and one rule went like this: don¡¯t expect mercy from a betrayed mercenary. Of course, the kid knew that, he was just afraid to die.


    ¡°Drink up,¡± Andy said, pointing at the gushing tap. ¡°There¡¯s plenty.¡±


    The wounded fellow sunk into the crates. His head dangled on his shoulders. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die.¡± He took another swig and closed his eyes.


    Andy¡¯s Killer Instinct seized him and he drew Julie in a flash. His arm snapped around quicker than his head could turn on the intruder, and he fired without thought. The bullet pierced through a sheet of canvas, hitting the man sneaking on the other side. With a clatter, his target and their firearm fell to the floor.


    Andy licked his lips, a familiar metallic taste in his mouth, like rare meat and gunpowder¨Cthe essence of his Augmentation¡¯s powers. Suddenly, he wasn¡¯t drunk, he was precise like a sharpened blade. Andy marched through the shadowy warehouse towards the new assailant. Rounding a stack of rugs standing upright columns, Andy saw the sneaky assailant propped against a thick structural beam, attempting to unholster a sidearm.


    Andy shot him in his shoulder. The impact pushed the man onto his back.


    ¡°Who are you,¡± the man squirmed. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°My wheels.¡±


    The man looked confused, then his expression was awash with pain. He squirmed around making grunting sounds. A pretty undignified way to go out, but not the worst Andy had seen.


    ¡°You got my wheels?¡±


    ¡°What the fuck?¡±


    Blood plastered the canvas sheet behind him as Andy pulled the trigger. It didn¡¯t bring him joy to kill¨Cit wasn¡¯t exhilarating¨Cit was just necessary. Andy hadn¡¯t been born a killer, but he¡¯d adapted to the sight of death at an early age. The world he had grown up in had been a violent place. The cataclysm didn¡¯t change that, it just normalised it for everyone else.


    Something caught his eye¨Ca piece of silver jewellery around the man¡¯s wrist. Andy wasn¡¯t great with faces¨Che might not have recognised the thieves in Lackey¡¯s bar if one hadn''t been wearing his sister¡¯s stolen watch. The ticker was frozen¨Cthe watch hadn¡¯t worked for years¨Cbut every now and then, he caught Clara glancing at it. Why she kept the broken watch wasn¡¯t important¡­ Andy had difficulty understanding most of Clara¡¯s actions. But it mattered to her, so it mattered to him. Andy knelt and carefully undid the metal latch, pulling it over the dead man¡¯s thumb.


    Attention. The AI¡¯s voice pierced his silence, squeezing through the gaps in his ever-widening sobriety. DNA corruption levels at 17%. Visit an Augmentation Master Console to prevent further DNA mutation, and recalibrate new abilities.


    ¡°Yeah-yeah,¡± Andy said, fingering his ear trying to dig the buzzing out of his head.


    Alterations to your DNA are unstable until calibration at an Augmentation Master Console.


    ¡°Alright, I get it. I was trying to have a moment, and you¡¯ve ruined it.¡± Pocketing the watch, Andy strolled back through the warehouse to where he¡¯d dropped his hip flask earlier. The kid was dead. At least he¡¯d died drunk. What more could you ask for?


    Alert: Prevent further-


    ¡°I got you the first time,¡± Andy said. ¡°Shut up.¡± Washing the lip of the flask in the leaky spout, Andy took another swig. It still tasted funny, a little acrid, a little bloody, but Andy could look past that.


    Heading towards the warehouse¡¯s main exit, Andy peered out through a gap in the doors. Outside, there were figures crouched behind wagons and cars parked around the perimeter of the loading bay and more looming in the shadows of nearby huts. They were training primitive weapons on his position, bows and spears and slings. There¡¯d likely be more with shields and clubs.


    Andy waved a hand outside, then poked his head around the corner. ¡°Heya chaps. Just me, don¡¯t shoot.¡±


    ¡°Get out and lie down,¡± one of the spearmen yelled. He was draped in the hide of some beast, the crocodile-like maw of which hung over his head as a hood. The other militiamen were each wearing similar animal skin armour and dark face paint. Andy recognised them as the flamboyant tribal gang who co-ran the town with a few others. What were their names again? Gristle-something? Their members could handle their drink, that¡¯s all Andy knew.


    ¡°You have broken the peace,¡± Crocodile-man announced. ¡°Exit the warehouse or suffer a swift punishment.¡±


    For a second, Andy imagined what non-compliance would look like¡­ Which were his primary targets? Where could he take cover? How many could he kill before being shot and stabbed to death? Andy smiled, he actually liked his odds.


    Alert, his AI chimed. Hold fire advised. Probability of success: implausible.


    ¡°Maybe with that attitude.¡± Andy sighed and resigned himself. Rival mercenaries were one thing, but killing the town¡¯s official militia would piss Clara off to no end. Just as soon as he¡¯d gotten comfortable lying on the ground, Andy was hauled to his feet. Two of the brutes grabbed his arms while another patted him down, confiscating his combat knife and Julie. Andy remained calm as the militiaman tucked Julie into his belt, remembering his Augmentation¡¯s new ability, recently initialised: Deadly Attraction. He could summon Julie to him as though magnetised. Although, thinking about it, he¡¯d only done it once and not practised it since, nor had he recalibrated at an AMC. Was there a chance it wouldn¡¯t work? Andy flexed his fingers, trying to sense the connecting between him and his revolver. There was a slight tug, a longing in his palm, yearning to be filled.


    The beefy militiaman accosted Andy, removing his hip flask, pausing to consider its destructive potential.


    ¡°You gonna come between a man and his drink?¡± Andy said, feeling Julie¡¯s presence ever stronger, ready to summon her at a moment¡¯s notice. ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid.¡±


    After a pause, the militiaman slipped Andy¡¯s flask back into his breast pocket. Andy relaxed. Surrounded as he was, even with his magical abilities, Andy no longer fancied his odds, but there were some things worth standing up for, no matter the odds. As he was dragged away, Andy recognised Clara¡¯s voice from the perimeter where a crowd of onlookers had gathered, and tried to wave, but the militiamen grabbed his hands and bound them in ropes. Still, they took him close enough to overhear his sister¡¯s conversation.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°We are employees of Blue Eyes,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s disgusting that my companion was attacked while in your hospitality. He shouldn¡¯t be in cuffs, he should be with a doctor receiving treatment for his wounds.¡±


    Even though he wasn¡¯t wounded, the prospect of free painkillers piqued Andy¡¯s appetite. ¡°Yeah, what an outrage.¡±


    Clara bustled up to him, presenting her wrist terminal to the guards. ¡°Recognise this signature? Mind explaining to Blue Eyes why you¡¯re assailing one of his employees?¡±


    ¡°Trust the old man to hire a rabid¡¯un,¡± one guard said, prodding Andy in the ribs with the head of his axe.


    ¡°He started a shootout on our turf,¡± another militiaman said. ¡°So he¡¯ll be coming with us now.¡±


    Clara complained vigorously, arguing with logic, making threats. It was all white noise to Andy. Whatever the consequences, he¡¯d face them. It didn¡¯t matter much. He had no regrets.


    Someone else entered the fray wearing a top-hat and a smart suit. Accompanying the newcomer were three other militiamen dressed in similar smart outfits. That was another gang, wasn¡¯t it? The sing-alongs, or something? There was a heated dick-measuring contest between the leaders of each team, during which Clara took sides with the top-hat fellow.


    One of the tribal guys squeezed Andy¡¯s bicep painfully and looked him in the eye, trying to goad him into reacting. Andy remained glazed over¨Che didn¡¯t mess around, he didn¡¯t like to scrap. He didn¡¯t see the point of intimidation or bravado, like so many other men indulged. What was the point in being pretend-aggressive? Andy was either killing everyone around him or ignoring their presence. It was exhausting trying to exist in the space between.


    While they argued, other tribal folk recovered the bodies from the warehouse, heaping them in the chalk. A horse-drawn cart came by to collect them, already loaded with the bodies of two mercs who Andy had smoked outside Lackey¡¯s bar.


    The handsy militiaman squeezed his bicep again, forcing Andy to look him in the eye. ¡°Where¡¯re the others?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s them. Just five,¡± Andy said.


    He snarled. ¡°You know what I mean. Who else did this? We¡¯ll find ¡®em, kill on sight.¡±


    ¡°What are you on about?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no one else,¡± Clara said. ¡°Just the two of us.¡±


    Andy grinned, repeating his sister¡¯s words, adding an old tune to it. ¡°Yeah, just me. Five-nill, mate.¡±


    The militiaman scowled, then his gaze drifted from Andy to the cart loaded with bodies being dragged from the courtyard. A dirty patch of red stained the chalk. He didn¡¯t say anything else after that. Andy zoned out as the arguing simmered down. In the end, the tribal folks in barbarian fancy dress conceded, and they all decided that Andy had done nothing wrong, and that his actions were self defence. Sort of. Besides, there were no mercs left alive to vouch for the other side. Andy¡¯s wrists were untied and his weapons returned. Though their separation was brief, Andy felt good for having Julie¡¯s back in her holster at his hip.


    Clara bustled him off before anyone had a chance to break the peace. ¡°Are you hurt?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    Behind them, the militiamen dressed in smart clothes followed as Andy let Clara lead him away from the warehouse.


    Clara sighed. ¡°Was all that really necessary?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, pretty much.¡±


    Clara scoffed. ¡°How do you think that¡¯s going to look to our employer?¡±


    ¡°That we don¡¯t take shit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather you consult with me next time,¡± Clara said. ¡°If you wanted revenge, we could have ambushed them outside the walls, robbed them back. Maybe gained some compensation for our efforts.¡±


    ¡°True.¡±


    ¡°But instead, our employer now thinks we¡¯re violent murders.¡±


    Andy remained quiet beneath the weight of her disapproval. He wasn¡¯t going to win this one, but he had an ace up his sleeve to cheer Clara up. ¡°Here,¡± he said, withdrawing the watch, wiping the blood off of it on his vest before handing it to her. ¡°Still doesn¡¯t work though.¡±


    She gasped. ¡°Where did you find this?¡±


    ¡°On them,¡± Andy nodded towards the warehouse. ¡°It¡¯s yours, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Her voice was soft. She didn¡¯t put the trinket on, just clasped it in a fist over her heart. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Andy said. ¡°Like I said, people gotta know they can¡¯t steal from us.¡±


    At the edges of the loading area, a perimeter of shacks hosted a small audience who had watched the standoff. Women sat in groups, pretending not to have noticed the commotion. Their children clung to the railings, pointing and watching with wide inquisitive eyes. Andy waved and the kids giggled. He shot them finger-guns and they returned fire. Behind them, their mothers scowled.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Andy asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve bought you the opportunity to recalibrate.¡±


    Andy winced. ¡°Lucky me.¡±


    Clara led him through a cluster of shacks and inside a large building with a brick ground-floor. A young blonde kid in a waistcoat led them down a series of corridors with questionable decor, a ridiculous ensemble, like passing through a fever dream. At the end of a corridor, a heavy door led into a basement. Soft blue light illuminated the dingy, brick-walled room. There was no decor here, only the Augmentation Master Console.


    In the centre of the room, the large glass cylinder reflected the cold light of a spotlight. The cylinder was contained within steel brackets, painted with black and yellow warning stripes. Andy stepped towards the glass. Each node was connected through a circuit board of tiny threads which spun a web over the glass, culminating at its zenith. It reminded Andy of veins beneath a membrane of skin. At the base, a platform sprouted thick black cables, which coiled like snakes, travelling to a master console at the back of the room.


    A shock of electricity ran through the threads like the rumble of lighting through a disturbed sky, glowing in the nodes. Behind him, one of the sing-along-crew booted up the master console. Andy shivered. He realised he was rubbing Julie¡¯s handle, and clenched his fists to stop. He hated recalibration and the nightmares that came with it.


    ¡°Andy,¡± Clara said behind him. ¡°We¡¯re ready now.¡±


    Andy took his shoes and socks off, undoing his belt.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Clara pointed at his foot.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Andy said, hiding his extra toe.


    ¡°Is it a wound?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a growth.¡± Andy tried to keep his foot hidden as he undressed, placing his clothes on top of a wheeled workstation beside the chamber.


    ¡°It¡¯s a little numb,¡± Clara teased, her voice pitching high.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make fun.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve grown a little nubbin.¡±


    ¡°Leave my nub alone.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what happens if you don¡¯t recalibrate.¡±


    Andy stopped at his boxers, glaring at her sidelong.


    ¡°What?¡± she said.


    ¡°I¡¯m here aren¡¯t I?¡± Andy blurted. ¡°Relax.¡±


    Clara chuckled. ¡°Sorry.¡± She cocked her head, staring fondly at his sixth toe. ¡°I hope it doesn¡¯t fall off.¡±


    ¡°I bloody do,¡± Andy said, placing Julie atop his pile of clothes and stepping inside the glass chamber. He turned to face his spectators. Outside, two technicians ran the console, while two other armed men guarded the door. Andy wasn¡¯t ashamed of his nudity, it didn¡¯t mean anything to him. His sister had seen him naked dozens of times before, either while he recalibrated or bathed in lakes while out on missions. To Andy, the human body was all just different shapes of flesh and bone.


    As the door of the chamber squeezed shut, a vacuum of silence smothered him. He could see Clara talking outside, but couldn¡¯t hear a word she said. Placing a hand on the glass, he felt the faint vibrations of conversation, and beyond that, the hum of a fuel generator powering the master console. Clara flicked her finger at him, and he took his hand off the glass, posing with his shoulders set and his hands at his side. The militiamen outside looked at him unashamed. Andy could tell by the crease in their suits that they were armed with 9mm semi-automatic pistols. With him naked, and Julie out of reach, they could gun him down in seconds, but they would never risk damaging the AMC chamber. It was likely the most expensive thing their little tribe owned.


    Attention: Estimated time to rearm: twenty-five milliseconds, his AI informed him.


    ¡°Thanks robot,¡± Andy said.


    The chamber door locked shut with a low pop, like snuffed gunfire. A conductive mist hissed through vents, clinging to his skin. Andy stared longingly at his revolver. He didn¡¯t like leaving Julie on her own.


    Warning: Access to firearm is currently impossible until the recalibration process is complete.


    ¡°Yeah, thanks robot.¡±


    Andy grew lightheaded. The mist tasted mineral¨Clike crisp mountain water. He breathed it in, quenching a first he hadn¡¯t realised he¡¯d had. A tingling sensation started in the base of his neck, then spread throughout his body. He swayed, as it throbbed and expanded with each breath. He closed his eyes and was submerged in static. It soaked into every inch of his body, every fraction of his cells, every strand of his DNA. Thrumming entombed his skull, blotting out all other senses until all that was present, was being.


    Images flashed before his eyes. Sensations possessed his limbs. ¡°Andy. Aren¡¯t you impressed?¡± The voice called him. Whose was it? His sister¡¯s? A face accompanied the voice. A young girl with bright eyes. She was grinning and bragging about something, clutching a metal tube with pistons and triggers running up its length. A clarinet. Andy smiled and patted her on the head. They were both children. What was that about the end of the world? It hadn¡¯t come yet.


    The scene in his mind became flooded with static and a new one emerged.


    Andy sat in the back seat of the family car. His dad was driving erratically, voice pitched to a panic. His mum gawked at her phone, reading off the headlines. Her eyes were wide with terror.


    They hit something in the road and his sister screamed. Andy grabbed Clara¡¯s hand and squeezed softly. For once, he was the only one smiling. ¡°It¡¯s alright. It¡¯s okay. You¡¯re safe with me.¡±


    Like a thunderclap, his world was transformed. Andy was burning with rage. A gaping hole tore through his stomach, ripping him to pieces, severing limbs. Suddenly, Andy was chasing a demon through a complex of blank concrete walls. Death was inevitable. Andy collided with the beast and tore it apart. The demon incarnated the body of a man. Andy ripped it open, seeking to replace the gaping hole in his own carapace with the black organs of the demon. He plummeted into its gut, up through its ribcage, and pulled out a black heart, stuffing it inside his own exposed innards, gorging himself to fill the void. Behind him, the lights went out. Memories fell into abyss. Andy fell through the air to his death, tossed by razor winds, directionless and burning with hatred. Kill. An intolerable pain was suffocated by violence. Andy lashed out for the demon, but it was gone, already dead, many years ago now. Andy screamed and clawed at his face to break free. Slowly, like the rising of the moon, the storm settled.


    When consciousness returned to him, Andy realised that he was lying by a country roadside overlooking a derelict town that smouldered in the morning sunlight. Smoke plumed wreckage, carrying on the cold wind. Andy checked the litter of bottles about him, swigging the dregs, welcoming the humming static that enveloped his mind.


    A building collapsed behind him. Andy looked up and realised that he was suddenly on a city¡¯s streets. A stampede rushed past him as people crumbled beneath blinking streetlamps. Then he spotted something that stopped his heart. Clara¡¯s face shone amongst the crowd, her blonde hair like a beacon of compassion in an otherwise numbing world. She stumped and fell beneath the crush of bodies. Andy darted towards her with a single-minded need. He dove on top of her like a shell as the stampede cascaded over him. He dragged his little sister beneath him as an animal does its cub, crawling into the cover of a car. There, in the shadows, he smiled. They used to play like this as kids. He¡¯d wear the wash basket on his back like it was a tortoise shell. Clara would ride on top and point him about the house¨Che was her valiant steed. She looked up at him with bright, terrified eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Andy said. ¡°You¡¯re safe with me.¡±


    The chaos around him blended together, like colours on a pallet, until only a grey paste remained. Boiling emotions evaporated and settled on calm waters, but still, a potent panic clung to the back of his mind, as though he had forgotten something very important, and now his and Clara¡¯s lives were in danger.


    ¡°Thanks for the slideshow,¡± Andy said into the paper-mulch expanse of his mind.


    Greeting: Andy. Ready to proceed? The AI voice asked. It was directionless in the vast empty space.


    ¡°You gotta do that nightmare sequence every time?¡±


    Error: Query comprehension failure. Rephrase and resubmit.


    ¡°Whatever,¡± Andy said. ¡°Let¡¯s get on with it.¡±

 Chapter 5 - Recalibration

    Identify: Augmentation class: Gunslinger. Delineations: Marksman, Hitman-


    ¡°Wait, wait,¡± Andy said. ¡°Hold on. Can you do that human thingy you used to try on all the time? I can¡¯t listen to any more of that robot voice. It¡¯s so annoying.¡±


    The AI paused while it reconfigured its settings. Is this vernacular more to your liking, Andy?


    ¡°Cool it with the vernacular and you¡¯ve got a deal. But just for now,¡± he asserted. ¡°Once we¡¯re back in the real world, I want you back to the robot voice, alright?¡±


    Perhaps if my communication operations were generally more conversational, you would be more receptive to my alerts and advice.


    ¡°Precisely,¡± Andy said. ¡°Keep it more bleep-bloop, less chitter-chatter.¡±


    Affirmative.


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit!¡±


    Proceeding¡­ Your Augmentation is a first-wave archetype: Gunslinger. You possess two delineations within this archetype: Marksman and Hitman. Each delineation is associated with unique abilities.


    Two orbs of light appeared in the blank sky like planets, one a hazy red and the other an steely blue. Inside each, complex geometry swirled and reconfigured itself.


    During the six years you have been Augmented, you have developed no new delineations, until recently. Projective analysis shows that your development in strength and abilities is far slower than expected.


    ¡°I¡¯m going at my own pace,¡± Andy said.


    Potential power spike is significant. An accumulative backlog of simulation programs are ready to implement, however, user reluctance is limiting the Augmentation¡¯s development.


    ¡°Alright¡± Andy said. ¡°I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I? Making an effort. Get on with it.¡±


    As Andy focussed on the blue orb in the sky, a sharp, cool sensation, like vodka with lots of ice, trickled down his throat. Shapes swirling inside the orb reformed into multi-contextual descriptions of his abilities. It was just like manipulating his own personal TV screen. If Andy wanted to read the descriptions of his Augmentation¡¯s abilities, text would appear before him in the light. If he wanted their description spoken to him, or demonstrated visually, he had only to imagine it playing out before his eyes.


    Delineation: Marksman


    Focus and precision enable the Gunslinger to perform exceptional feats of marksmanship.


    Enhanced Precision (Tier 1): The Gunslinger¡¯s perception is enhanced, and their nervous system stimulated, vastly improving their precision targeting.


    Develop this delineation by accomplishing feats of marksmanship, his AI said.


    ¡°That¡¯s it? Just practise? Like shooting bottles.¡±


    Negative. You must exercise and stress your abilities in controlled and uncontrolled environments. My adaptive programming is designed to adapt your DNA to combat any apocalyptic situation. Extreme situations may result in more dynamic DNA shifts.


    ¡°Get creative. Got it.¡±


    Andy retracted his focus and noticed two silvery marbles orbiting the blue orb like a moon. They were Augmentation modules¨Cminor abilities, ever present. Andy checked them to see if anything had changed.


    Firearms Finesse: The Gunslinger has the ability to operate firearms with speed and finesse, reloading, unjamming and adjusting any firearm¡¯s components subconsciously, freeing their minds to other tasks.


    Combat Conceptualisation: The Gunslinger has an instinctual understanding of location of enemies, weaponry, the quality of firearms, the quantity of ammunition, and other such specificities during a skirmish.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Nothing new,¡± Andy said, looking around the vast space to focus on the large red coloured delineation orb next. As it unravelled before him, a pleasant malty taste tickled his tongue, strong and stringent like a harsh whiskey.


    Delineation: Hitman


    The Gunslinger functions as an effective killer, able to adapt to extreme scenarios, outnumbered or outgunned.


    Evasive Fire (Tier 1): The Gunslinger¡¯s spacial awareness programme creates a map of three-dimensional space, highlighting targets. Furthermore, the Gunslinger¡¯s athletic abilities are enhanced so that, when combined, they can maintain firearm accuracy while evading danger.


    Killer Instinct (Tier 1): The Gunslinger will draw their familial weapon reflexively when in mortal danger, and fire upon a target instantaneously.


    To develop these skills...


    Andy ignored the AI voice as it gave him the same old develop these skills spiel. He retracted from the red orb and noticed a satellite marble orbiting it, blinking like a silvery LED. Last he recalled, there had not been any passive modules attached to his Hitman delineation.


    Inebriation Inhibitor: The effects of intoxication have become second nature. The Gunslinger is able to invoke an inebriated grace on the battlefield. The unpredictability of the Gunslinger¡¯s movements may impair enemy targeting systems.


    Andy snorted. So he was a drunken monk now. No matter what he did, the Augmentation would attempt to twist his actions into some sort of combat enhancement. Although, Andy had to admit he kind of liked this one. He retracted his focus and the satellite orb dimmed.


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    Hazardous mutation reduced. Cancerous cells isolated. Therapy initialised.


    ¡°That¡¯s not going to make me go bald, is it?¡±


    Negative.


    ¡°Thank god.¡± Andy felt relieved, and his mind wandered back to the vat in the basement, reconnecting with his body. But a tugging sensation at the back of his mind tied him down. Turning around, he followed the feeling towards a third huge orb, floating in the sky. It shone like an opaque puddle doused with oil, oozing with greens and oranges and blues. A sudden longing swelled inside Andy to grasp something, hold someone.


    At the sound of his heart, the orb opened up to Andy.


    Delineation: Affinity


    The Gunslinger is bonded to an Affinity weapon, able to summon extraordinary powers through synthesis with the firearm¡¯s mechanics.


    Deadly Attraction (Tier 1): Due to ionised particles in the Gunslinger¡¯s blood, the Affinity weapon is attracted, similar to a magnetic force, and may be summoned from a distance.


    ¡°So this is the new thingymagig you were on about?¡±


    Correct. I have created the framework for a new delineation based on your recent firearm fixations.


    ¡°She¡¯s got a name, you know.¡±


    Affinity firearm identified as Julie¨C.45 calibre revolver. Delineation calibration complete.


    ¡°Oh, so I am doing well?¡±


    Recent performance is sub-optimal. Acceptable.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± Andy winked into the void. ¡°If that¡¯s all, I¡¯ll see you in another six months, robot.¡±


    Andy fell back to his corporeal form with a thud. Clara stood beside the glass, her face full of concern. Andy¡¯s mind was muddled, his limbs felt foreign and unresponsive, but the look in her eyes woke him up. Danger. He reached for the door¡¯s seal, but it was locked shut. The guards outside weren¡¯t causing trouble. The room wasn¡¯t shaking or on fire. He couldn¡¯t spot the danger. That only alarmed him even more.


    Placing his back to the glass, Andy kicked at the chamber trying to shatter it. Before he knew it, Clara opened the chamber door and grabbed him. She hugged him. Andy breathed heavily, his mind racing to target the threat. He tried to push past Clara to get at Julie, but she stopped him.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Andy panted.


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Why did you look at me like that then?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t seem like you were having a good time in there.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Andy felt sticky with sweat, mixed with the vats¡¯ conductive liquid. His palm was bruised where his fingernails had dug in, his jaw ached from clenching. ¡°Yeah, well, you know I hate these things.¡±


    ¡°This one seemed particularly bad,¡± she said, guiding him out of the chamber to his clothes.


    He started to dress. ¡°I¡¯m not normally this sober when I do the recalibration thing.¡±


    Clara snorted. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s why you never remember any of it.¡±


    Andy rubbed his temples. He really had dried out in the tank. Intrusive thoughts rose to the top of his mind. Dark thoughts, the sought that only drowned in booze.


    ¡°Hey Andy¡± Clara snapped her fingers. ¡°Hear what I said?¡±


    ¡°No, sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s time to restock. Blue Eyes has opened his armoury¡¯s doors to us.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Andy said. ¡°I get to pick out some goodies?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Andy pumped his fist, then reattached Julie¡¯s holster at his hip. ¡°You know what, I¡¯m feeling like a machine-gun kind of mood.¡±

 Chapter 6 - Armed to the Teeth

    ¡°Anything I want?¡± Andy¡¯s eyes were wide and hungry as he surveyed the armoury.


    ¡°Within reason,¡± his smartly dressed tour guide replied. ¡°Anything which you might require during your employment with us.¡±


    Located on the second floor, the armoury was lit by electrical bulbs¨Cno windows or candlelight. A variety of assault rifles stood to attention in racks like fields of sunflowers; bandoliers full of grenades hung from hooks like fruitful pea-pods, ready to burst. Beehive sacks of miscellaneous ammunition piled in one corner beside the honeycomb boxes of assorted rounds. Andy opened a cabinet and brushed his fingers over machine gun belts, cascading like bronze waterfalls, and shuddered.


    ¡°Should do.¡± His voice broke a fraction like an adolescent. Swallowing his delight, Andy cleared his throat. ¡°Yeah, whatever. I can make this work.¡±


    The sun was setting by the time Andy had finished making his selection. He excited the armoury wearing new boots, armoured gloves, and a slim tactical vest underneath his leather jacket. A semi-automatic pistol tucked into a breast holster¨Csome company for Julie¨Che knew she got lonely during the long hours while there was nothing to shoot. His brand new bandolier was bountiful with frag, stun and smoke grenades. A short barrelled assault rifle slung over his shoulder, two large magazines taped together in the magwell and four more stashed in pouches of the vest. There had been other gizmos for the rifle, but Andy preferred the basics: iron sights and some duct tape. He had ammo for both sidearms, but chose not to take a speedloader for Julie. He considered the devices impersonal¨CAndy liked to touch the bullets as he fed them into her cylinder, assigning each of them to his targets. This one¡¯s for you. And this one¡¯s for you.


    Something drew his attention at his hip¨CJulie was vibrating softly, or so it seemed that way.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, babe?¡±


    Julie didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to feel jealous, girl. This?¡± Andy brandished the rifle. ¡°This ain¡¯t nothing. This is just a tool.¡±


    Julie was silent. It was her go-to. She had spent years buried beneath the body of a dead man before Andy had rescued her. Though she was passionate, Andy got the impression that she had abandonment issues, and with Andy¡¯s Augmentation pushing them together, binding them with new abilities, he wondered how much longer this casual period between them would last before things got serious.


    ¡°The pistol?¡± Andy said, patting the 9mm in his breast holster. ¡°This skinny bitch? Babe, Julie, she ain¡¯t a threat. She doesn¡¯t compare, you know that.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    The voice came from down the hallway. It was a militiaman, younger than Andy, a different man than the one who had escorted him to the armoury over an hour ago. Or so it seemed¡­ he wasn¡¯t wearing a waistcoat, unless he¡¯d just taken it off at some point. Andy couldn¡¯t be sure, he wasn¡¯t great with remembering faces.


    ¡°You got anything bigger?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°You¡¯d like to compare something bigger?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Bigger than what?¡± the militiaman asked.


    ¡°Bigger than what I could feasibly hold in my arms.¡±


    The kid stared at him confused.


    ¡°I want to fix something to my jeep,¡± Andy said.


    The kid blinked. ¡°Like an LMG?¡±


    ¡°Like an LMG.¡±


    ¡°Erm,¡± he scratched his head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure about that, I¡¯d have to ask.¡±


    ¡°Well, show me first, ask later.¡±


    The kid¡¯s eyes wandered the ceiling for an answer. He fiddled with a button on his waistcoat, his forehead shone in the candlelight of the corridor, suddenly sweaty. ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°Come on,¡± Andy said. ¡°I¡¯m expected to be somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Okay. But only to look. I would need to get permission before you take anything else.¡±


    Andy didn¡¯t respond. The boy took him down a flight of stairs and through the mansion towards a workshop. The air was crisp with the smell of metal shavings and diesel. A series of workbenches were occupied by vehicle parts, machinery and weaponry. The room was lit softly from electrical desk lamps, fastened to tables and shelves dotted around the room. The floor was smooth where the wood grain had been packed by dust. Mounds of sawdust and fibres piled in every tiny corner. Two heavy calibre machine guns were mounted on the walls, while one more was in pieces, clamped to a bench, being worked on by engineers.


    ¡°That one,¡± Andy pointed to one of the mounted machine guns, painted dark red and black.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± an fat engineer dressed in work overalls interrupted them. ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°Kid, catch this gentleman up on our arrangement.¡± Andy strolled over to the LMG and unlatched the chains affixing it to the wall.


    Behind him, the two talked in hushed voices, then the youngest one¡¯s tone pitched up an octave and he waved his arms. ¡°I don¡¯t know. He¡¯s a guest of the master. I don¡¯t know.¡±


    The engineer sighed. ¡°Excuse me sir, you shouldn¡¯t be here.¡±


    Andy hoisted the massive gun down and hefted it on his shoulder. His assault rifle slipped and he caught it in the crook of his arm, hunching to carry both weapons. His spine ached under the weight. ¡°That¡¯s quite alright, I¡¯ll just be on my way.¡±


    Suddenly, the weight lessened. Two more engineers were lifting the machine gun off his back, while the third, more talkative one, got in his face. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. Callum, fetch a senior.¡±


    Andy watched his dreams disintegrate before his eyes as the engineers repositioned the LMG back on the wall-mount. Defeated, he bowed his head and tried to get past the fat engineer.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Wait here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I would love to oblige.¡± Andy slid under the engineer¡¯s outstretched arm. A trickle of his Augmentation¡¯s powers seeped into his veins, enhancing his dexterity as his Evasive Fire ability hummed in the background of his mind. Andy skirted out of reach and towards the stairs. ¡°But time waits for no man, not even I.¡±


    The big engineer stepped after him. ¡°This workshop is off limits to guests.¡±


    ¡°As I am now made plainfully aware.¡± Andy had intended to say painfully or plainly, but got caught somewhere between the two. ¡°Adios.¡±


    Andy marched up the stairs, and moments later, the young militiaman came running after him. ¡°Excuse me, can you wait here. I need to get a senior.¡±


    ¡°Here, in the stairwell?¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe at the top of the stairs.¡±


    ¡°Take me to my lodging,¡± Andy said. ¡°If you need to fetch a senior, tell them I¡¯ll be waiting there.¡±


    The young man hesitated.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make it worth your while¡­¡± Andy said, finishing the sentence in his head: In that I won¡¯t shoot you in the balls.


    After a little friendly cajoling, the militiaman obeyed, escorting Andy out of the mansion and towards the town¡¯s clifface. Outside, the sky had an evening shine, which reflected in the white chalky puddles along the path. His guide shivered, but Andy didn¡¯t feel the cold. They scaled the timber ramps and arrived at a shack three stories up. ¡°Well done,¡± Andy said, tipping his guide a .22 bullet from the bottom of his pocket. ¡°Breakfast at five, is that correct?¡±


    ¡°Breakfast?¡± the young man blinked. No sense of humour.


    Andy turned around and entered their shack. Inside a small shack with two beds stuffed with old linens. Clara was kneeling, her high powered rifle lay neatly dismantled on the floor like a drawing of weapon schematics. The candlelight lit her face, transforming her features into shadowy auburn.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Andy said, slinging his assault rifle and packs on the bed.


    ¡°I¡¯m just packing, preparing everything.¡± She was cleaning a chamber with a wire brush and oil cloth, checking every cavity for dust and imperfection. ¡°Have you eaten yet?¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s a good point actually.¡±


    Clara nodded to a bowl of half-eaten food. ¡°It¡¯s all yours.¡±


    ¡°Nice one.¡±


    ¡°What did you get from the armoury?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°Guns,¡± Andy said over a mouthful of chunky stew.


    ¡°I can see that.¡±


    Andy patted his new sidearm and grenade bandolier, twisting his hips to show them off like a fashion show. ¡°You like?¡±


    ¡°Very nice.¡± She whistled. ¡°I got enough ammunition for the two of us as well. Although, It¡¯d be nice to know exactly what we¡¯re getting into before we pack. Blue Eyes was just getting into it before you interrupted our meeting. Luckily, there¡¯s a mission briefing tonight at the headquarters.¡±


    Finishing the food, Andy jumped into his bed and unscrewed his hip flask. ¡°We¡¯ll be fine. We¡¯ll improvise.¡±


    ¡°I know we¡¯ll be fine,¡± Clara said, ¡°because I always prepare. Do you want me to service your revolver?¡±


    Andy blanched. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±


    ¡°Strip it, service it.¡±


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°You¡¯ll do no such thing!¡±


    Clara scowled. ¡°Not this again.¡±


    ¡°Who do you think she is?¡± Andy took a steadying breath. ¡°Julie doesn¡¯t strip for just anyone. And service her. That¡¯s disgusting.¡±


    ¡°You know what I meant.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. I know what you were implying.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you won¡¯t let me do it, then at least bloody clean the thing. Look at it.¡±


    Andy drew his revolver. Dry blood streaked over her burnished silver exterior. ¡°I¡¯ll give her a wipe.¡±


    ¡°Please do,¡± Clara said.


    Andy squeezed a wet cloth into a bucket and wiped his baby down. ¡°Any news?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the Visionaries updated our maps.¡± Clara shook her wrist terminal at him. ¡°A new zone has been discovered north of here.¡±


    ¡°Cool. What is it?¡±


    ¡°Gelatinous blobs,¡± Clara said. ¡°The surveyors stumbled upon a water treatment plant that was infested with this carnivorous jelly-like substance. A whole bunch of them got eaten by it. They suspect that if the ooze had spread further, it could have infested all of the waters on the continent, if not for a nearby mega-mole infestation disrupting the underground pipe systems.¡±


    ¡°Disaster averted,¡± Andy said. ¡°How do you kill a blob?¡±


    ¡°Fire? Ice? Something elemental. I don¡¯t think bullets would cut it.¡±


    ¡°Huh. You got anything like that?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s avoid the blobs then, eh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s.¡±


    The cheap vodka which Andy had filled his hip flask with from the warehouse wasn¡¯t quite hitting the spot, so he got up and searched the cupboards for booze. ¡°Megamoles¡­¡± He shook his head. ¡°Some of these apocalypses are ridiculous. Who¡¯d have thought megamoles could destroy the world?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the Visionaries marked it as Class One¡­ more of a minor catastrophe than an actual apocalypse.¡±


    ¡°Megamoles,¡± Andy rolled the word around in his mouth, imagining what they might look like, what powers they might possess. ¡°I¡¯m curious.¡±


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t be. We¡¯re not going that way. That¡¯s small fry. I¡¯ve got us a job east of here in a city infested with, drumroll please¡­¡±


    Andy glanced at her when she didn¡¯t continue. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Drumroll please, Andy.¡±


    Andy banged his hands on the cupboard.


    ¡°Zombies.¡±


    Andy pumped his fist. ¡°Yes. My favourite.¡± He closed the last barren cupboard and checked beneath the beds, accidently knocking one of Clara¡¯s rifle components on the floor. ¡°Oops. My bad. They didn¡¯t stock us with complimentary booze then?¡±


    ¡°No, just pillow mints.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    Clara scowled at him. ¡°No, of course not. Listen, I picked up a submachine gun for hordes,¡± Clara said, patting a duffel bag on her bed. ¡°Plus a few gizmos I want to try out.¡±


    ¡°Good stuff.¡± Andy made for the door. ¡°I am going to nip into town to buy more supplies.¡±


    ¡°Andy, you¡¯re a terrible liar.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m off to get shitfaced,¡± he clarified. ¡°Don¡¯t wait up.¡±


    ¡°We have a meeting tonight,¡± Clara said. ¡°With Blue Eyes, our employer. Have you heard of him?¡±


    Andy shrugged. ¡°Has he heard of me?¡±


    ¡°After your shootout earlier, yeah, he has.¡± Clara put aside her maintenance. ¡°Andy, he¡¯s a big deal. This quest isn¡¯t just some little assassination job or scouting mission. This is a step up for us, professionally speaking. We might finally earn enough to buy our own place in Quadra, or elsewhere. Our own headquarters and storehouse. Our own armoury.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m listening¡± Andy paused in the doorway, wrestling with a question on the tip of his tongue. He clenched his jaw and gripped the door frame.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Clara asked.


    Andy had stalled long enough. ¡°Do you need me to come with you?¡±


    ¡°To the meeting?¡± Clara scowled.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°God no.¡±


    ¡°Okay, phew.¡± Andy relaxed.


    ¡°Listen to me,¡± Clara said forcefully. ¡°I want you to find the deepest, darkest hole in the Underbelly and stay there the night. No trouble, no more gunfights. Keep your head low.¡±


    ¡°Darkest hole, got it.¡± Donning his leather jacket, Andy left his assault rifle and bandolier on the bed, taking only Julie and her nine millimetre playmate with him.


    ¡°You¡¯re off out like that?¡± Clara admonished.


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Bro, you stink.¡± She tossed him a deodorant can.


    Andy inspected the deodorant can. ¡®DESPERATION PERSPIRATION¡¯ was written on it in a loud font. There was an image of a bear roaring. ¡°Wow, cool.¡±


    ¡°Stay safe,¡± Clara said, her voice faltering a touch.


    ¡°Nothing to worry about.¡± Andy gave her the thumbs up and closed the door after him. He walked towards the town¡¯s rear where the settlement stooped at the mountain¡¯s base. Passing through the marketplace, Andy glanced into the boots of lorries, cars and waggons, ignoring the trader¡¯s trying to coax him in for a closer look at their wares. His money was only good for one thing tonight. The smell of ale lured him towards a tavern, but he veered away. He wouldn¡¯t be welcome in any pub under the sky after the gunfight earlier. The Underbelly was the only place he could get a drink.


    Sunlight gleamed above the satellite tower on the mountain¡¯s peak like a giant heavenly arrow pointing down into hell. At the mountain¡¯s base, carved into the rock, was a tunnel large enough to slide a stack of tanks through. The tunnel¡¯s maw was reinforced with a steel rim, like the barrel of a massive cannon. Banners clung to the roof like loose teeth, waving in the wind. Some kids kicked a ball against the rockface, playing in the chalk. A drunk stumbled out of the tunnel and fell to the ground. The onlookers didn¡¯t seem to notice, nor did they bother Andy as he passed them into the candlelit throat of the Underbelly.


    The tunnel inside was ribbed with a hard plastic material, like the rough throat of some massive beast. The sound of chatter and music echoed through the cavern, merged and confused. It washed over Andy in waves. The tunnel¡¯s huge railway track had been dug out and repurposed years ago, replaced with wooden walkways. On either side of the tunnel¡¯s interior, shacks rose three stories high to the roof. Bridges spanned above his head. Women in corsets and colourful makeup waved to passersby from bridges and balconies. Men hooted at them, raising beer-bottle salutes.


    A child ran up to Andy, holding his hands out begging. ¡°Spare a spike, mister?¡±


    Andy sighed. He knew the score¨Cbehind every child beggar was an old ringleader, banking on the charity they earned. Andy gazed into the shadowy eaves of a nearby shack. Two men slumped into rickety chairs, watching the street impassively. It could be them, or it might not. What did it matter? Andy was staying out of trouble tonight, not ridding the streets of scum. If he did that in the Underbelly, there¡¯d be nothing left. Not even him.


    ¡°Sorry mate.¡± Andy patted the kid on the head, turning to leave.


    ¡°Please mister.¡± The boy grabbed the tail of his leather jacket. Andy snatched his wrist and breathed sharply through his nose, eyes wide with anger. But the boy was small, and frankly, just trying to get by. He and Clara had been the same once, scrounging what dregs they could. The boy looked scared. Andy softened his grip and bent in close.


    ¡°Listen kid, I¡¯ve got something you can keep for yourself.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± he said, and though he shrank away, his eyes were bright and curious.


    ¡°Advice.¡± Andy winked, putting his arm around the kid and leading him off towards the nearest bar. ¡°Learn how to kill for yourself, ¡®cause soon, you won¡¯t be small anymore, you¡¯ll be done with begging, and someone will try to use you for something else¡­ They¡¯ll work you to death in the mines or on farms, or get you in a gang to do dirty work.¡± Andy unscrewed his hip flask and took a swig. ¡°Nah. That¡¯s not a way to live. Learn to kill for yourself, kid. That¡¯s the only way to be free.¡±


    Andy offered the flask to the boy. He took it in both hands and sniffed the cap, scrunching his face up in disgust. ¡°Eww.¡±


    Andy snorted, taking back his flask. ¡°Suit yourself.¡±


    Andy ventured deeper into the tunnel, beyond where the light from outside could penetrate, until only the light of lanterns pierced the shadows. He stopped at every boozer along the way, trading credits for whatever the strongest thing they had was, and a pint of beer to chase it.


    Alert: Contaminates detected, his AI chimed. Tolerance activated.


    ¡°Good luck,¡± Andy replied. He handed the barman the engraved bolt. It was a specific shape and size, scavenged from the railway that once ran through the settlement and the countryside beyond. All Andy knew was that he could trade it for booze.


    ¡°What was that?¡± the barman asked.


    ¡°Cheers,¡± Andy raised the wooden mug and drank.


    After the sixth bar, Andy swayed down the track. By the tenth, he was stupefied. His journey derailed into an alcove off the central tunnel. He lounged in a canvas hammock, draped in cloth and shadows, listening to the symphony of the Underbelly, sipping pure spirit from a corked, coconut shaped bottle. The air was damp and still. He closed his eyes and let the booze sink in. With it, came flashes of the day. The nightmare he¡¯d had before calibration in the AMC chamber. He couldn¡¯t remember the specifics, nor did he want to. It felt like there was something his subconscious was trying to tell him¨Cwarn him about. Something deeper than the AI voices, deeper than his DNA. Andy shivered. He didn¡¯t want to know.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we have that sort of technology?¡± The voice reached Andy, growing louder as the speaker approached. Two people entered his little alcove and took up hammocks at the opposite side. The old lady came out with two coconut shell drinks¨Cseemingly the only thing they served here.


    ¡°No one does. It¡¯s not real.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s got to be a little bit real.¡±


    Andy peered out of his cocoon. The light in the alcove was dim, but his eyes were well adjusted. The speaker was a young man with curly hair, tall and skinny like Andy. His companion was a bulldog of a man, short and muscular with a buzzcut.


    ¡°Why do you suppose that?¡± The man with the buzzcut swigged his drink.


    ¡°Why would the old geezer send us to recover it, and the scientists too, if it wasn¡¯t valuable?¡± The younger man dangled his legs out of his hammock. He took a sip and scrunched his face up at the acrid strength.


    ¡°We¡¯ll know soon enough,¡± Buzzcut said. ¡°Maybe this is God''s plan after all.¡±


    ¡°Then what?¡±


    ¡°Then what what? Speak properly, Curly.¡±


    ¡°Then what do we do?¡± the other said, meeker this time.


    ¡°Take it, of course.¡±


    The old serving woman returned with more drink, stored inside a large crab-like spiral shell, which she skillfully powered into her patron¡¯s coconut bottles, only spilling a little bit over their hands. Exotic. Lighting a wad of incense and a bunch of candles, she held out her hands until enough engraved bolts were placed in them, then left. Gradually, the air became drier, and Andy¡¯s mind hazier as the smoke filled his nostrils and untangled his brain.


    As the candlelight brightened the alcove, Buzzcut spotted Andy and stared. ¡°We¡¯re not alone.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind me,¡± Andy said. ¡°Just another denizen of this fine establishment.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Dimitri,¡± Andy said. ¡°Dimitri Wellington Boots. I own this section of the Underbelly. That old woman is my lover and my wife.¡±


    They both stared at him for a moment, then went back to their drinks. Andy couldn¡¯t believe that had worked.


    ¡°And the others?¡± the young man continued. ¡°Kill them once the job¡¯s done?¡±


    ¡°Curly,¡± the other growled. ¡°We¡¯re not alone.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that pisshead? He hasn¡¯t got a clue.¡±


    Buzzcut smacked his companion across the head. ¡°You don¡¯t have a clue.¡± They both left Andy alone after that. Waves of delicious numbness washed over him. The smoke and booze mingled and fizzed in his veins like a laboratory experiment. He saw bright lights and heard gunshots. He gazed down the iron sights of Julie at the demon who had taken everything from him, but watched it from a dispassionate distance. This is who he was now. Completely uncaring. He would surrender to the demon, but not before killing it. It was wearing the skin of a man, dressed in a large winter coat, lying on the concrete ground pretending to beg for its life. Andy pulled the trigger, but nothing came out. He checked the cylinder¨CJulie was full. He fired again, but nothing. Not even a comical cap-gun bang. The demon laughed at him. Andy lunged for it.


    He hit the ground and bolted awake, holding his arms up to protect his head. Andy drew Julie and searched for targets. The chamber was dark and empty but for a candle which flickered in a puddle of wax in the middle of the floor. Andy wheezed a sigh of relief, then doubled over in a coughing fit. He checked his gear¨Cit was all there. He hadn¡¯t been robbed. Sitting upright on the sodden wooden floor, Andy waited for his heart to slow down.


    Exciting the chamber, Andy stumbled down narrow stone corridors towards the main tunnel. To his left, the Underbelly ended with a pile of rubble where it had collapsed many years ago. To his right shone a blip of grey light as the overcast morning sky seeped through the tunnel¡¯s mouth. Pulling his leather jacket tightly around himself, Andy found a dustbin fire to warm his bones. Beside it, an old man dressed in rags curled up with a mangy dog on a bed of sodden cardboard. Andy tore off a dry corner of cardboard to help get the fire going again and checked pockets for a watch. Did he still own one? If Andy knew the Underbelly, things got quiet at around the 5am mark, when the drinking and whoring finally got boring.


    It was probably a good job he¡¯d gone out drinking, it was better to leave the diplomacy to Clara. He¡¯d make up for it on the road when it came time to kill something big.


    Julie hummed in her holster at the thought. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Andy patted his revolver, warming himself in the orange glow of waking flames. ¡°Soon, my sweet. Soon.¡±

 Chapter 7 - Mission Briefing

    Clara didn¡¯t have much time, but with Andy gone, she could organise their gear without any distractions. She dismantled and cleaned their weapons, sorted their ammunition and restocked their essentials. Once complete, Clara lay on her bed flicking through her wrist terminal. It was Bulwark Project tech¨Csame as the AMC itself¨Cand displayed a report of Andy¡¯s recent recalibration. The process had been rough on him, with Andy clenching his fists, squirming and gurning his jaw for over an hour. But whatever pain it caused him was a necessary evil if Andy was to become stronger and avoid an untimely death from DNA corruption.


    A new entry caught her eye. Delineation: Affinity. As Clara read the description, a smile crossed her lips. It was the first significant development in years. Clara read the entry over and over again, imagining what sort of powers Andy might develop, assuming she could continue to land them bigger, better, more dangerous missions. The delineation seemed to be linked with his revolver, but was distinct from his usual Enhanced Precision abilities. Something more unique, perhaps something more powerful?


    Clara sighed wistfully and rolled out of bed. She cleaned her outfit with a rag, laying each piece on the bed, inspecting them for tears. Her black leather army boots were sturdy, with one-inch platforms and recently replenished laces. Her white vest was woven with micro-alloy fibre, which was supposed to provide extra protection, but Clara had been stabbed and punched while wearing it, and had yet to notice any difference. Honestly, she liked the silvery sheen the alloy gave the white fabric, and had three more vests like it stored in the trunk. Her camouflage trousers had been a size too large for her when she¡¯d gotten them, but she¡¯d grown into them in recent months. Their pockets were deep, the material nice and breathable, but the seams were starting to tear. Sewing them, she made a mental note to look for a new pair on the road.


    Her black brimmed military cap had been with her the longest. She had found it as a kid, but it still fit her head on the tightest setting. The cap had been with her all over the world, keeping her hair in check and the sun out of her eyes. Checking herself in a mirror, Clara brushed her hair, intending for it to be a quick five minute job, but what proceeded was an hour long struggle with lugs and knots. By the end of her battle, the hairbrush looked like it had come off the back of a blonde sheep. It was a marvel she had any hair left on her head.


    Finally, there was her combat jacket. Padded, but not too thick, the dark green was splotched with so many stains that it appeared camouflaged like her trousers. But in three years, Clara hadn¡¯t found a jacket of equal quality to replace it with. Every pocket was perfectly placed, deep enough to store ammo, or shallow enough to quickly draw tools. Clara pulled the jacket on and spun around in the mirror, imitating drawing knives, firestarters, grenades and flares. She felt ready for anything.


    Something caught her eye from the open lockbox¨Cthe glint of polished steel¨Cher first ever knife. She must have opened more than a thousand cans with it back in England, while she and Andy scampered from one place to the next, surviving in the wreckage of an ever crumbling society. There were other mementos in the lockbox, most of them books: stories about war and great leaders, soldiers and traitors, spaceships and chariots, some of it history, some of it fiction¨CClara sometimes struggled to tell the difference, which often added to the fun of reading them.


    Clara emptied the contents of her rucksack onto the bed. Inside was the bare minimum they needed to survive on the road: a thin waterproof tarpaulin and string to build a shelter; a small medical kit, separate to their main one in the trunk of the jeep, stocked with potassium iodine and chlorine tablets; a waterproof container with five different tools to light a fire, each necessary for a specific situation; a distress beacon, flashlight with a red filter, fold-up knife. Finally, a pouch contained one bullet of every calibre she had come across. It was a mercenary superstition: you never wanted to be just one bullet short to do a job.


    More than just the essentials, Clara¡¯s backpack contained an array of gizmos which might become useful in the field. There was a compact motorised grappling hook with thirty metres of wire, a silent key-hole drill for peaking through walls, a few spark plugs for smashing windows, a bump-key for opening locks, attachable climbing spikes, and of course, duct tape. Furthermore, the rucksack had spaces for water bottles and rations, and a dozen other pouches for bits and bobs. Clara straightened the contents out on her bed, smoothing out the linen-stuffed mattress so that her items would hold their places. It reminded her of preparing her expansive pencil kit for school as a child.


    Once she was satisfied that everything was in its right place, she packed the items back into her rucksack and tucked it beneath her bed. The dizzying wave of relaxation that swept over her. Lying down, she set the alarm of her wrist terminal to seven o¡¯clock and almost immediately fell asleep.


    When the alarm buzzed, Clara rose groggily. The last three weeks on the road were catching up to her. She needed a good night¡¯s rest.


    ¡°Later,¡± she mumbled, getting out of bed, fixing her hair and setting off. Quadra¡¯s chalk streets shone in the waxing moonlight like a wild landscape¨Ctrickling streams flowed between dark boulders, gathering at the dam-like perimeter and spilling out into the road beyond as a river of white. Beacons of firelight were scattered like orange stars, swimming in the mountain¡¯s basin and rising high up the sides of the rocky wall, reaching for their silver brethren in the sky. The hum of fuel generators reverberated beneath a chilly sporadic wind, which shook the timber foundations beneath Clara¡¯s feet, coaxing the scaffolding skyrise into singing a creaky melody, which made Clara grip the handrail a little tighter as she descended.


    Ahead, soft golden light permeated the Harmonies¡¯ headquarters¨Celectrical bulbs, a real flaunt of wealth. The doors opened on the reception, where a boy dressed in a waistcoat led her to a large dining room. Although they had been working with the Harmonies for a few months now, Clara had never been to this section of the mansion before. The exterior wall was made of stone¨Cgrey boulders from the mountainside, cemented between tree-trunk posts. A fireplace was ablaze in the opposite wall, wearing its chimney like a granite top hat. On the mantelpiece, a small black box blinked with LED lights; Clara recognised from her grandparent¡¯s house long ago¨Ca converter which took the waste heat and smoke from inside a chimney and converted it into energy. A dynamic, sultry song was playing from electrical speakers, sung by a man with a smooth charming voice.


    ¡°Welcome, Clara.¡± Theodor the tailor stood by the doorway, fingers entwined over the head of a cane. He wore a dark maroon suit and a black tophat, with a single flower poking out of his breast pocket. ¡°Blue Eyes sends his regards that, regretfully, he cannot be here.¡± Theodor carefully withdrew the flower and handed it to Clara. ¡°But he wanted you to have this.¡±


    The flower was a dainty thing with three white drooping bell-shaped heads. ¡°Thank you. Am I to assume this is our advance on the job?¡±


    Theodore smiled, motioning towards a large oak dining table in the centre of the room; its polished wood caught the firelight like crystal amber. ¡°Let me introduce you to the others.¡±


    Seated at the table was a Harmony woman, impeccably dressed with her black hair coiled above her head in complete submission. Clara could only just about tie hers into a ponytail or bun. It would be nice if, next time she met with Old Blue Eyes to complete their mission, she could dress up fancy like the women he employed.


    Clara shook herself. She had been daydreaming and missed Harmonies¡¯ name. Seated at the table beside her was a tall man with unruly sandy hair and a thick golden watch on his wrist. He wore jeans and a black t-shirt with a faded graffiti design. A padded denim jacket was slung over the back of his chair, a simple semi-automatic pistol visible at his hip. He acknowledged Clara, then returned to his meal of roasted meat, bread and yoghurt. Clara abruptly shut her mouth as her stomach gurgled, clearing her throat to mask the sound.


    ¡°This is Alister. A mercenary like yourself. I trust there is no bad blood between the two of you.¡±


    ¡°Not that I know of,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°We wouldn¡¯t want a repeat of earlier,¡± Theodor said.


    ¡°That was¡­¡± Not our fault? Unlike Andy? A freak occurrence?


    ¡°Eight against one,¡± Alister chimed in without looking up from his meal. There was a foreign flavour to his accent that seasoned his voice with grandioso. ¡°It sounds to me that it was not his fault.¡±


    So that was the narrative going around Quadra: Unassuming Mercenary Fends Off Eight Scoundrels Alone. That story would serve her nicely.


    ¡°Andy defended himself,¡± Clara said, fiddling with her small silver watch. ¡°But, we aren¡¯t looking for trouble.¡±


    A young serving boy brought Clara a portion of food. Theodor informed her that they were waiting on the third team of mercenaries to arrive before they started the mission briefing. Clara glanced around the room while she ate, then spotted someone sitting in the shadows. Poised against a velvet chair was a hooded figure draped in a black sheet, cut like a poncho. In their lap, they caressed a necklace of wooden beads. Clara squinted, trying to spot their face beneath the hood¨Cshe had never met a Visionary before.


    Behind Clara, somebody stomped down the hallway and flung open the door. Ducking beneath the frame, an obscenely muscular person entered the dining room hefting a spear taller than Clara. The warrior was dressed in the tribal garb of the Grizzlies, with tattoos of runes and geometry decorating the tanned flesh of their hands and arms. They had the thighs and chest of a female athlete, yet the broad shoulders and strong chin of a man.


    Behind them, a small man with wiry ginger hair and a sharp nose sniffed the air as he entered the room. ¡°Apologies for the lateness, but we¡¯re here now, aren¡¯t we.¡±


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    Theodor rose from his post near the doorway to greet the two newcomers. ¡°I¡¯m glad you made it Sax, Abigail. Meet Alister of the mercenary group Alister¡¯s Boys, and Clara. Sax and Abigail are each members of the Grizzlies tribe, specifically their pack is the¡­¡±


    ¡°Hogs,¡± Abigail finished for him, flexing her bicep to show off a tattoo on her shoulder¨Ctwo tusks crossed to make an X.


    ¡°You¡¯re the one with the feisty brother?¡± Sax, the fox-like man rustled past Clara and took a seat opposite her.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Where is he then?¡±


    Clara¡¯s eyes darted around the room ¡°Elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Clearly. Licking his wounds?¡±


    Clara grinned and raised her eyebrow, staring Sax dead in the eye, remaining silent.


    ¡°Quite a disturbance he caused,¡± Sax scowled. ¡°I was lucky enough to have front-row seats.¡± His expression soured. ¡°You won¡¯t get away throwing your weight around with us like that.¡±


    ¡°Now-now Sax,¡± Theodor said. ¡°Leave the unpleasantries for the job. Sit down, eat, I will explain your task.¡±


    Sax began to devour his meal as his companion¨Cthe large warrior named Abigail¨Ctook her plate over to a settee instead. She walked with an awkward twist of the hips, leaning on her spear slightly for support. An injury, perhaps?


    Theodore strode to the head of the table. ¡°Mercenaries, Hogs, your attention please.¡± His classic British accent was at home in the opulent setting. ¡°You may have all been told different things at different times, so I shall start at the beginning. East of our location is a city called Marsay. It was overrun by a strain of zombies during the cataclysm. Generally, the area is avoided, traders and travellers take the long way around, but our cartographers have a few substantiated reports. The Visionaries will share their data with you later.¡± Theodor nodded towards the hooded figure.


    ¡°We were recently drawn to the city by one of its buildings,¡± Theador continued. ¡°A research facility near the coast in an industrial area. Eight months ago, we sent an expedition of specialists, accompanied by a troupe of Harmonies and set up a laboratory there. The operation was running smoothly for a few months, until, it seemed, the zombies caught on to our little project. They started attacking. First as individuals, then in waves. Normally, we have the manpower to defend our assets, however, a recent Fishfolk incursion has stretched our reinforcements thin.¡±


    ¡°Fishfolk?¡± Alister said.


    ¡°A species with advanced technology,¡± Theodor explained. ¡°They have expanded on the coastline, attacking our farms, power stations and nearby settlements.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Clara said. ¡°How do they breathe on land?¡±


    ¡°There is much about their species which is a mystery,¡± Theodor said. ¡°However, it is not the focus of today¡¯s briefing. Your mission lies with the laboratory in Marsay. With Harmony reinforcements scarce, the Grizzlies graciously offered to send a troupe of their own warriors to relieve the scientists trapped behind the city. However, soon after the team reported arriving, communications were cut. We do not know if it is an issue with the power, or a communications array, or perhaps everybody there is dead.¡±


    Theodor took a sip from a glass of water, letting the statement settle over the room. Nobody spoke. He removed his top hat and set it on the table, combing his thinning black hair back with his hand, then continued.


    ¡°Your mission parameters are¡­ let¡¯s say flexible. The best case scenario is that the communications array is simply in disrepair, in which case, you will create a perimeter, see to any wounded and repair the array, then make contact with us here and follow any orders of any Harmony personnel or associates at the site. If the power is down, it may be an issue with the coastal generator under our control, but our technicians have informed me that that is unlikely to be the case. If the team there is absent, or presumed dead, then your mission is a little more complicated.


    ¡°The research which those specialists were performing was of the utmost importance to us. We have reason to believe that they were close to a breakthrough before communications went dead. Therefore, your priority will be to establish control over the facility, open communications with the Visionaries, recover any lost or damaged technology and rescue any personnel. I recognise that these are broad parameters, so let me be clear. The technology and personnel are priority one, namely the lead scientist, Linton.¡±


    Theodor handed Clara a printed photograph of the scientist. He was a thin, balding man with pale skin which unflatteringly reflected the camera¡¯s flash. He wore small glasses on a small nose with a thick, concerned brow.


    ¡°What¡¯s the technology then?¡± Sax said, dipping a wadd of bread into the juices of his meal.


    ¡°That¡¯s classified,¡± Theodor said without turning around, handing out the photographs to the others.


    ¡°Go on,¡± Sax said. ¡°Give us a clue. If you want us to be able to sniff it out, we¡¯ve got to know what it looks like.¡±


    ¡°The research facility is located on the top floor,¡± Theodor avoided the question. ¡°I will have coordinates sent to your devices.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re worried about theft,¡± Sax said, flapping his photograph of the scientist. ¡°This Linton completed the research and bolted with the tech to sell to a higher bidder.¡±


    Theodor wore a sour expression. ¡°That is one possibility.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m right on the money aren¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Like I said. That¡¯s one possibility. You are required to be flexible. You will be paid handsomely for securing the facility, and rewarded beautifully if Linton and the culmination of his research is returned to us, undamaged.¡±


    Alister raised a computer terminal in the air¨Csimilar but smaller than Clara¡¯s¨Cwaving it at the hooded figure sitting in the corner. The figure approached him and accepted the terminal, tinkering with it. Alister leaned back in his chair to face Theodor, arms spread over the back and table, taking up as much room as humanly possible. ¡°Why the girl and the circus? We could do this on our own.¡±


    Sax scoffed. ¡°Circus? Is that what you call that freakshow lorry you drive around in? Garish.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s a circus?¡± Abigail said, leaning forward, thighs spread, taking up the entire settee. ¡°Me?¡± she laughed. ¡°That¡¯s right I¡¯m a circus.¡±


    ¡°Save your purse,¡± Alister said, ignoring the others, sticking his thumb in his own face. ¡°We will manage this job alone.¡±


    ¡°Sure, that¡¯d save them a lot,¡± Clara said. ¡°They don¡¯t have to pay dead mercs.¡±


    ¡°Is that a threat, young lady?¡± Alister said.


    ¡°Just a prediction.¡±


    ¡°I believe the terms of your payment have already been arranged,¡± Theodore said. ¡°They won¡¯t change depending on how many of you return. There is no monetary incentive to double-cross, and any actions taken which might jeopardise Harmony property or personnel, such as shooting at one another, shall incur deductions from your pay. Stephanie shall be travelling with you as representative, to make sure things go according to plan.¡±


    Clara had largely ignored the Harmony woman sitting at the table. Stephanie straightened her spine and raised her voice. ¡°I presume, one of you has room for one more?¡±


    ¡°We have room,¡± Alister said.


    ¡°And we will all play nice,¡± Abigail said, rising and taking up her spear. ¡°I will make sure of that.¡±


    ¡°Depart in the morning,¡± Theodore said. ¡°At least leave together, so that Old Blue Eyes thinks you¡¯re all friends.¡±


    While the others discussed the details of their departure, the hooded Visionary took Cara¡¯s wrist terminal and attached a direct cable, updating her zoning data. Eyeing the connection suspiciously, Clara resisted the urge to snatch hers terminal back¨Cit contained information which would be valuable to the right person. But the Visionaries were a well established faction in Quadra, operating the large tower and outpost at its peak, purveying the land. They had more data on the apocalypse zones in their systems than Clara was likely to collect in her lifetime.


    ¡°You spelled this incorrectly,¡± Alister said, leaning over the table, tapping his terminal. ¡°The city is not Marsay.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s how travellers spell it nowadays,¡± Theodor said. ¡°Think of it as a nickname.¡±


    Alister wrinkled his nose, then rose and departed without another word. Beside Clara, the Visionary unplugged her terminal and handed it back.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Clara said, making her leave. Rushing outside, she picked up on Alister¡¯s trail in the street, spotting him sauntering ahead down the winding chalk roads. Clara followed him across the open courtyard, sticking to the shadows¨Cseaking without appearing suspiciously sneaky. He stopped outside Lackey¡¯s bar, talking with a group drinking at tables outside. Clara kept her pace steady, inspecting the group of mercenaries as she drew closer. She was curious, what made them so confident that they could do this mission on their own? Were they exceptionally powerful, were there Augmented soldiers amongst their ranks, or were they just fools?


    One man, short and muscular, dragged a cigarette and eyed Clara as she walked by. He said something to Alister, who turned to face her.


    ¡°Evening,¡± Clara said, doffing her military cap, continuing around the block so as not to arouse suspicion, before heading back to her shack.


    Clara lay on her bed, inspecting the mapping data which the Visionaries had uploaded to her terminal. She now had detailed information on everything between Quadra and the city Marsay; beyond that was a mystery. On the eastern outskirts of the mountain range which Quadra occupied, a desolation of famine spread inland north, claiming wide swathes of once thriving farmlands. There were images available and descriptions of the conditions.


    Their journey would take them through a narrow stretch of the famine zone and along the coast, which until recently was mapped as a territory once invaded by crab people during the cataclysm. Documents claimed that crustaceous humanoids had risen out of the ocean and swarmed coastal settlements, invading beaches and boarding boats. A relatively weak¨Cclassification one¨Capocalypse, the crab people were overcome by Quadra¡¯s forces when the alliance formed seven years ago.


    However, those frontier territories were now under attack by a unified faction of sea creatures¨Cnot to be mistaken with the crab people¨Ccalled Fishfolk. The apocalypse¡¯s strength was classified as two¨Ca lot more dangerous than the former squishy crab people.


    Clara and Andy¡¯s journey towards the city Marsay would take them down the coast, through several fishing settlements where the fighting against Fishfolk had become fierce. They would circumvent the most dense urban ruins, following trade routes east. But the protected roads stopped before Marsay. Taking a boat wasn¡¯t an option, with the Fishfolk presence. They would have to figure out a way through the city to the industrial district on the coast. The roads were likely congested with derelict cars and collapsed buildings, then there were the zombies.


    There were different strains of zombies all across the wasteland, differing widely from each other. Her reports indicated the undead in Marsay were a classification two apocalypse¨Cslow, but perceptive and plentiful.


    Clara shook herself out of a doze. She needed sleep, but couldn¡¯t rest her mind until their route was fully mapped. It would take them about two days to reach Marsay, assuming the roads were accessible. If she could afford to, she wanted to avoid venturing too far north. Reports indicated that a jungle was growing there, spreading its territory, gradually consuming the surrounding apocalypse zones. Information on the jungle was undetailed¨Cthat was never a good sign. Its severity classification was unknown. Without knowing what dangers grew inside the jungle, she couldn¡¯t prepare, and Clara hated nothing more than being unprepared.


    Sticking her sidearm under her pillow, Clara locked the shack door and blew out the candles. Judging by the mission briefing, this would be the final good rest she¡¯d get in a long time to come.

 Chapter 8 - Desperation

    Andy ¡°found¡± a bottle of gin in the hands of some sleeping drunk and made his way out of the Underbelly. It was an old trick he¡¯d learnt in secondary school¨Cif you kept drinking through the morning, the hangover would never catch up with you. Meanwhile, Clara would be asleep in their shack, wherever that was. Andy tried to guess by the position of the sunlight, but it was useless when he didn¡¯t know their shack number.


    Staggering around the streets, Andy stumbled upon the garage near Quadra¡¯s gate, found their jeep and climbed up on the roof to kip. Some hours later, a horrible sound woke him, drilling inside his skull, welding and hammering into his eardrums. Sitting upright, Andy discovered that the metalworking was in fact real. Mechanics were working on a lorry two rows down. Andy plugged his ears and tried to sleep through it, but it was no use. Hopping down, he took his bottle over with him to the station.


    ¡°Do you mind keeping it down,¡± he said. ¡°I pay good money to park in an area like this, and I don¡¯t expect to be kept awake by ye¡¯er-do-wellers.¡±


    Andy was largely ignored, save for a few glances from the mechanics. Defeated, he sat atop a lonely wheel, sipping his gin, inspecting the vehicle. A small generator hummed beside the compact lorry, onto the front of which three mechanics were finishing welding a horn-beaked dozer blade. They worked beneath the painted eyes of a furious stallion, whose muscular snarl encompassed the entire driver¡¯s compartment of the lorry. A mane of barbed wire flowed above its brow between two armoured firing compartments, which jutted out of the roof like metal ears. The cargo compartment was reinforced with sheet-metal cut with firing slits so that occupants could shoot from inside. It was covered in patchwork insignia, names and drawings of demonic eyes which bled tiny red tears where the spray pain had streaked during application. The largest of the graffiti was in the centre: three white lines, like spearheads, each of a slightly different length, piercing a crescent. It was as close to a tank as Andy had seen in years. He wondered if they could commission whoever had done the lorry¡¯s paint job to snazz up their jeep.


    Something bashed into Andy¡¯s side. He groaned and looked up. Clara was standing above him, four duffel bags in her hands, carrying their weapons. She slung two onto his lap. ¡°Have a good night?¡±


    ¡°Exquisit.¡±


    ¡°Good. Get up then.¡±


    Loading their jeep, Clara took the drivers¡¯ side and Andy resigned himself to the passenger seat. It would be a slow journey then.


    ¡°You got something fun for us?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Zombies, don¡¯t you remember?¡±


    ¡°Erm, yeah.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re heading into a city to locate a research facility and rescue personnel and technology. All the details are on my terminal if you want to look.¡±


    ¡°Not now,¡± he said, adjusting his seat as far back as it could go.


    After a while, Clara started the engine and they set off, the same dreary album spun in the CD player. They pulled up behind the battlewagon which Andy had seen being serviced, and two pickup trucks took up the rear. Their little convoy of four rumbled towards Quadra¡¯s gate and out onto the road beyond. Suddenly, he wasn¡¯t sleepy anymore. It felt good to be on the move again.


    The landscape gradually transformed through the morning as they drove down valley roads towards the mountain range¡¯s exit. They travelled fast¨Cthe main road had been cleared for passage¨Cderelict vehicles piled up against the sides, blockages removed to improve access in and out. Signs directed their way, hanging below the old-world signposts. Ahead, the battlewagon slowed as they trundled through a patch of road that had been hit by a landslide. By the roadside, a dozen or so men worked with buckets and shovels to clear the path. They looked skinny and tough, like dried meat. Andy thought he recognised one as an old drinking buddy he¡¯d had in the Underbelly.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he shouted out of the window. ¡°Burn¡¯o.¡± It was an affectionate name Andy had for the old fellow, whose face and torso were malformed from terrible burns he¡¯d suffered during the cataclysm. ¡°Burn¡¯o, what¡¯s up.¡±


    Burn¡¯o looked up from his work shovelling stones, glowering at Andy as they rolled on by. Andy shook his flask out of the window, but Burn¡¯o eyed him wearily. He couldn¡¯t have recognised Andy, otherwise, why wouldn¡¯t he have accepted the drink?


    ¡°It¡¯s booze, Burn¡¯o.¡±


    ¡°Andy,¡± his sister admonished. ¡°Stop causing trouble.¡±


    ¡°I was being charitable,¡± Andy said, crossing his arms. ¡°Never doing that again.¡±


    By afternoon, the mountainous terrain sank into hills and valleys opened up into barren fields. The roads widened, forming dual carriageways, scattered with derelict vehicles. Every so often, old villages cropped up by the roadside. Many were inhabited, but they weren¡¯t somewhere Andy would like to stop for refreshments. The land was arid, murky streams, scarce and scrawny vegetation. A group of children had stopped to watch their convoy pass. They were beleaguered, one seemed as though they couldn¡¯t stand up straight. Andy waved. Kids liked it when you waved.


    At each village¡¯s entrance, there was a pole with four flags. Andy recognised it from somewhere. He was sure Clara would know the meaning of it. The convoy rolled to a stop beside a lonely building, one of the walls of which had a large white square and blue circle graffitied on the brick. In front of them, the battlewagon coughed smoke out of its exhaust. It was then that Andy noticed the registration plate read ¡®KILL¡¯ in broken letters where someone had scratched the paint off to reclaim the text. If Andy squinted, he could read what it had once been: AK19 BJL. Not as catchy.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to see what¡¯s up,¡± Clara said, hopping out of the jeep, leaving the engine running. She strode ahead as somebody exited the battlewagon and approached a third person¨Ca smartly dressed man who came from the roadside building. Andy watched them all converse, trying to read their lips, but he had never learned how to, so it stopped being entertaining pretty quick. The man in a suit was using a radio with a large antenna. He was armed with a slick military rifle, similar to the one Andy had taken from their employer¡¯s armoury recently. When Clara returned, she jammed the jeep into reverse and turned around.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°We can¡¯t go that way. The road¡¯s too dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re gonna have to make a detour.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind dangerous,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Our employer does. We can¡¯t be getting slowed down fighting Fishfolk on the road.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the problem then?¡±


    ¡°The problem is, I didn¡¯t plan for the change of route.¡±


    ¡°You planned a route?¡±


    ¡°Of course I did.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just east isn¡¯t it?¡± Andy pointed.


    Clara shook her head, concentrating on the manoeuvre. As she turned around, the battlewagon revved its engine and overtook them and the pickup trucks, putting their jeep at the rear.


    ¡°Cheeky,¡± Andy said.


    They passed back the way they came for thirty minutes then took a detour right, off the established highway onto narrower paths.


    ¡°You take over,¡± Clara said, taking the jeep out of gear and holding the wheel for Andy to climb over. Once they¡¯d swapped seats, Andy switched the CD player off and swigged his hip flask for safe driving and good luck. Clara became absorbed in her wrist terminal while Andy took the reins, avoiding potholes, wreckages and the occasional derelict building spilling onto the roadside. Ahead, the battlewagon carved a path with its horn-nosed dozer blade, battering aside any obstacles for them to follow in its wake.


    Stubborn, shabby hedgerows finally gave way to the barren land. Their tyres kicked up dust and as the air took on a mineral taste. There were no birds or insects, barely a breeze. Clara closed their windows and turned off the AC. A patch of black, like tar, was baked into the road beneath an animal skeleton. Scraps of desiccated flesh clung to its bones.


    ¡°Boring one, this,¡± Andy said. ¡°What is it, dust?¡±


    ¡°An apocalypse of famine,¡± Clara corrected.


    ¡°Dust-ocalypse. Death by boredom. I can¡¯t wait for the zombies.¡±


    ¡°You know, there might not be much to shoot once we reach the city.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding me?¡± Andy said aghast.


    ¡°The mission is search and rescue, essentially. And a lot of the reports suggest that the zombies are slow and docile.¡±


    ¡°Oh no, come on. Seriously?¡±


    ¡°This is about professionality, Andy, not kill-count. We have a job to do.¡±


    ¡°If they¡¯re some slow-ass Walking Dead zs, I¡¯m going to be really disappointed.¡± He had promised Julie some killing. She¡¯d be awfully upset with him if he couldn¡¯t deliver.


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    The famine spread for miles. They drove slowly around the outskirts of an old town, deserted and dry, passed by hours of desolate farmland, dried up trenches and stagnant reservoirs. Occasionally, an obstacle would turn them around and they would have to find a different route, and each time, the battlewagon took point. After a while, they switched drivers again and Andy kicked his legs up on the dashboard.


    There was no telling what had caused the famine apocalypse, but as the sun set behind them, they discovered what had stopped it spreading. On the horizon, a grey sky loomed over an untamed jungle. Creeping plants carpeted the dry earth in patches along the roadside, scraggly tufts bursting through the dry earth. The moist smell of vegetation carried on a migrating wind. Clara caught up to the battlewagon and flashed their headlights, then pulled over.


    ¡°Refill,¡± she said, hopping out and grabbing a fuel canister from the boot. They weren¡¯t empty yet, but now was probably a good time to top up before heading into the jungle.


    Ahead, the passenger-side doors opened on the battlewagon and a man dressed in a tracksuit and hoodie jumped out into the beam of their headlights. He looked old, with scraggly blonde hair, wearing a sidearm at his hip and a large hunting knife.


    ¡°Not too scared to travel through the night, are you?¡± The man approached and put his hand on their jeep¡¯s bonnet.


    ¡°Is that what it looks like?¡± Clara said, sloshing the fuel canister to emphasise her point. ¡°Although now you mention it, perhaps we should take a break and continue at first light.¡±


    ¡°Killer plants, that¡¯s what our terminals say.¡± The man walked past Andy, approaching his sister, hands in his pockets. Andy eyed him in the wing mirror.


    Clara screwed the fuel cap back on. ¡°Carnivorous plants, class unknown. We don¡¯t have much information on the zone, unless you have better maps than the Visionaries.¡±


    ¡°Class nuttin¡¯. The Trojan can plough through grass. We¡¯re not scared of a little vegetation.¡±


    Clara threw the canister back in the boot and walked around to the driver¡¯s side. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a lot easier during the day.¡±


    ¡°You ain¡¯t seen what we got yet,¡± the man said, returning to his vehicle. ¡°Just keep following us.¡±


    Clara scoffed, climbed back in and started the engine. ¡°Trojan. What a stupid name.¡±


    ¡°Is that what they called their battlewagon?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Huh, pretty cool. Why didn¡¯t we name our jeep?¡±


    ¡°She has a name,¡± Clara said, patting the steering wheel affectionately. ¡°Hillary.¡±


    Andy winced. ¡°Why not something cool?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t talk.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Naming your revolver Duewy.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Julie,¡± Andy said. ¡°Don¡¯t be rude.¡±


    It took them a further hour to reach the edge of the jungle proper. A wall of plantlife rose above them like a great wave, obscuring the night sky above. Mulch churned under their wheels as they dove into the jungle, slowly swallowed alive. Their vision was reduced to just a few metres around them illuminated by their headlamps. An exotic array of plants climbed atop of one another, grasping for the sky. Wiry moss with tiny blue flowers clung to a derelict vehicle, defying gravity. A tree had been usurped by vines, now lay decaying and covered in fungi. Umbrella leaves greedily shaded entire swaths of the jungle, while palm trees stood tall like arrows amongst the undergrowth. Their jeep rocked on its suspension over the cluttered roads, following the Trojan battlewagon on and on into the thick of it.


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t have come here at night,¡± Clara grumbled.


    Andy checked his watch. It had been a couple hours and nothing had happened. A cluster of pollen drifted past the window, glowing blue luminescent. The lights were pretty, but likely poisonous. Andy put his hand against the aircon vent, just to make sure it wasn¡¯t blowing pollen inside their jeep. Vines draped overhead, caressing the roof like a prehistoric car wash. Ahead, the Trojan battlewagon ploughed through the undergrowth, following what remained of a motorway. Behind it, the other mercs trailed in their pickup trucks. Their headlights shone off the rusty skeleton of a lamppost, a crooked signpost displaying a faded, wordless warning.


    Ahead, the canopy formed a solid wall blocking their path. The convoy slowed to a crawl, then firelight lit their surroundings. The Trojan battlewagon was spurting flamethrower fire over the jungle blockade.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Andy said. ¡°Why don¡¯t we have a flamethrower?¡±


    ¡°Where would we put one?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°I could carry it. Maybe just a little one.¡±


    ¡°Add it to the wishlist.¡±


    Andy took a notepad out of the glovebox and marked it down. Inside were diagrams and descriptions of all the weapons he wanted, most of which he¡¯d seen in games and movies.


    ¡°When are we gonna get a gravity cannon,¡± Andy said, pointing to a drawing he¡¯d made near the beginning of the notepad. It was drawn in three frames like a comic book, depicting a stick figure Andy blasting an angry mutant off the page. ¡°How cool would that be?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m keeping my eyes out for one,¡± Clara said, but her voice sounded distant and distracted.


    Each spurt from the flamethrower revealed more of the jungle. Andy caught glimpses of their surroundings, and his Combat Conceptualisation module worked to fill in the gaps. Another spurt of flame, and something looked wrong to Andy. The image seemed imperfect. Something had changed. As he shone a torch into the dark, the Trojan hissed and another spurt of flame roared forth. Something flinched in the firelight. A clump of moss shifted, growing in size and shrinking into the shadows. ¡°Something just moved.¡±


    Clara was alert, one hand on the wheel, one on the gear stick. ¡°What we got?¡±


    ¡°Some sort of moss thing.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s it doing?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± The clump seemed to oscillate in the dark. It flitted like a lump of butter boiling in a pan, swelling and diminishing with each burst of flame. Andy checked on the Trojan. It had burnt a hole in the solid wall of vegetation. He could see a steel bridge now which had acted as a frame for the blockade, buried deep beneath the jungle. The plant life was too wet to catch alight and spread, forcing the battlewagon to burrow like a mole.


    A horn screamed. Andy checked the wing mirror. Something loomed over one of the pickup trucks of the mercenaries following them. A shadow with blue specks.


    The gearbox growled as Clara tried to reverse, but their truck wouldn¡¯t drive. Something must have clogged the gearbox. His sister flinched as a thick limb-like vine slammed into the windscreen. They both drew their pistols in unison, but did not fire. If the creature was trying to get in, the worst thing they could do was create a hole for it.


    ¡°Flares,¡± Clara said, digging out her rucksack.


    ¡°Not sure that¡¯ll cut it,¡± Andy said, tapping on his driver side window with the barrel of his 9mm. Tiny blue flowers sucked against the window like leeches as the clump of moss slowly enveloped their jeep. A crack appeared on Clara¡¯s driver side window. Andy tasted the metallic tang of his Augmentation hormones firing, but couldn¡¯t think of any of his abilities that would be useful. Clara pulled a flare out of her back and struck it, igniting a pink flame. Andy squinted as she pressed the flare against the window, singing tendrils that had begun to take root in the crack. The moss abetted, but for only a moment.


    A vine burst through Andy¡¯s window, shattering glass and grabbing his neck. He drew his knife and severed it, but the breach was already made. Moss bloomed in the opening, expanding inside their jeep, clutching and cracking the glass. Andy slung off his leather jacket and pressed it against the hole, shoving the moss back.


    ¡°Got anymore flares?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°In the boot.¡±


    If he let go of the jacket now, they¡¯d be swamped. ¡°What about a grenade?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll damage the jeep.¡±


    ¡°Fire? From the fuel canisters?¡±


    ¡°You wanna choke to death?¡±


    Vines clutched to Andy¡¯s wrists, dragging him through the glass. The moss swarmed in through the opening, blue flowers puckering and probing for flesh. When they latched onto his arms, he could feel their tiny teeth tugging at his skin. What a horrible way to die, death by a million needles. Andy slashed wildly with his knife, cutting the moss to ribbons, but let go of his jacket in the process. Andy snatched at the collar as his trusty leather friend was dragged out of the window, then something caught his eye inside a pocket¨Cthe drawing of a bear¡¯s maw. The words ¡®DESPERATION PERSPIRATION¡¯ were written across a metallic can.


    Sheathing his knife, Andy grabbed the can and sprayed it through the crack into the moss. ¡°The flare,¡± he shouted. Clara leaned over and jammed the sizzling flare against the deodorant can¡¯s muzzle. A burst of pink flame sprayed forward, drenching the window in fire. The moss creature hissed, sizzled and popped, tiny flowers burnt to a crisp.


    ¡°Woo!¡± Andy yanked his jacket back into the jeep and grabbed the flare from Clara. Shouldering the door open and sprayed his miniature pink flamethrower in a wide swath over the jeep. The moss shrivelled away, receding underfoot like a tide. The jeep revved, and Andy jumped back inside as Clara stuck it into gear and sped off. They drove in the Trojan¡¯s smouldering wake beneath a tunnel of vines until they were out on the jungle road again. The battlewagon¡¯s headlights had disappeared in the undergrowth, but their path of destruction was easy to follow.


    Andy shook the can. About half of it remained. ¡°Got enough for one more stop if you need a leak.¡±


    Behind them, gunfire cracked, muffled by the jungle. Then a low boom.


    ¡°Damn,¡± Andy said. ¡°I think our friends are struggling.


    ¡°Either they make it or they don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Damn sis, cold.¡±


    ¡°Well we can¡¯t turn around now, can we,¡± she snapped. ¡°It¡¯s not cold, it¡¯s just the job.¡±


    Andy had meant it as a compliment, but clearly she hadn¡¯t got it. They caught up to the battlewagon as around them the dilapidated ruins of a city rose out of the undergrowth. The husks of brick buildings were seized by vines. A huge freight truck carried a cargo of fat headed mushrooms, gleaming with a viscous secretion. A steel gate stood poised, guarding nothing. Clumps of moss of every texture and colour dotted the roadside, clinging to signposts and derelict cars. Mist evaporated in their headlamps where, ahead, the Trojan had burned a path through the congestion, not wanting to get bogged down on the road again, ripe for another ambush.


    Finally, after hours of cautious travel, the jungle opened up before them, stretching its tendrils over a wide, cluttered bridge. A cemetery of rusted vehicles were packed on the bridge, their oxidised orange hulls had been transformed into artsy plant pots by the spreading jungle. Spindly creepers wrapped around doors and window frames, joined by ferns, which sprouted from the vehicles¡¯ sodden seat cushions. Moss coated the seams as though someone had gone over the car frames with a highlighter pen, filling in the cracks. There was a path through the vehicles where someone had pushed them aside, which the Trojan battlewagon was now widening with its beaked dozer blade.


    Below them, the murky river gushed towards the coast. Beyond the bridge stood the silent city, shaded as the sun rose at its back. There were crops of trees on the opposite bank, but the type Andy had come to associate with this region of the world, not so much the killer-moss kind. It seemed that the jungle had failed to cross the wide river and conquer the city streets beyond it.


    Clara parked their jeep at the edge of the bridge as the Trojan waded through the wreckages.


    ¡°Let¡¯s wait for them here,¡± Clara said. ¡°Give them a chance to catch up.¡±


    Andy got out and stretched his legs. His passenger side was cracked beyond the repair of any tool other than heavens sent duct tape. He fetched a roll from the boot and started to repair the damages, applying the tape like bandages over holes and cracks in the glass. After a few more minutes, Andy heard the sound of engines approaching from behind. Two pickup trucks staggered out onto the road stained green from veggie juices, their windows and bonnets shattered and battered.


    ¡°Good,¡± Clara said. ¡°I was worried we were working with amateurs.¡±


    Andy unscrewed his hip flask and took a sip, then offered some to his sister, which for once, she accepted. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll see.¡±

 Chapter 9 - The Approach

    Clara kept her eyes on the shadows as they delved into Marsay city, trailing in the wake of the Trojan. By pointing the nose of its dozer blade between the gaps in traffic, the battlewagon was able to bore a path through the congested roads. Clara¡¯s and the two Hogs¡¯ pickup trucks behind her followed. There was no movement in the dark behind shattered windows and alleyways, no bodies in the streets, no signs of life. Veering away from the compact mainstreet, they banked onto an adjacent tramline and picked up some pace. The line was clear of debris, save for the occasional stationary tram or discarded motorbike which had tried to use the line during the city¡¯s abrupt evacuation. It was a scene of compact chaos not unfamiliar to her¨Ca reminder of home.


    Beside the tramline stretched the walls of an ancient castle, picturesque with jagged parapets like the rooks of a chess set. Walls were a good idea, Clara thought, but humanity had grown out of them, thinking themselves masters of the world. Perhaps if cities of the past had built more walls, more barracks, more armouries, they could have kept the wasteland out¡­ or contained the carnage within? Clara slowed their jeep to squeeze through a gap where a bus lay toppled on the tramlines. Clearly, the civilians of Marsay had been eager to leave when the zombie outbreak had occurred. Walls or not, staying and fighting hadn¡¯t been on their agenda.


    A swathe of weeds bent before the battlewagon as the tramline ran over a grassy corridor. Trees stretched above the weeds, obscuring Clara¡¯s view of the road just metres away. Beyond it, silent, sandstone buildings held their breath, lifeless, awaiting their masters¡¯ return. Letters embossed the walls, some spelling words in English, some in the native language; others were the names of tribes and traders which had lost their meaning when the old world crumbled. Opposite the castle walls, a concrete citadel upheld a swathe of glass panels, glimmering in the rising sun. The pre-cataclysm edifice squared off with the ancient castle across the road. Each construct was built to last an age, yet each predeceased their makers, alone now, in an empty city.


    A clattering sound alerted Clara from her daydreams. She rose in her seat with one foot steady on the gas, peering through the weeds towards the noise. ¡°Hear that?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Andy dozed.


    ¡°Keep an eye out.¡±


    Abruptly, the Trojan took a right, breaking through the weeds on the tramline and burrowing into the city. The infrastructure was different to the city Clara had grown up in¨Cless built up, with more open space. Clara had memories of skyscrapers towering above her like oppressive black monoliths, flecked with security cameras and electric fences. However here, even in late winter, bushes speckled with pink and white flowers burst free of their plant pot confines to bask in the open air.


    For a moment, Clara was envious of any girl who had grown up in these warm, orange and green streets, until she remembered how they¡¯d met their end. Crooked lines of traffic cut through the city like old scars where its residents had been trapped and torn to pieces. Ashen bruises marred the brickwork where fires had engulfed entire buildings. Two stories above her head, a scrap of velvet blue cloth was snared in the shards of a broken window, tattered and fluttering in the breeze.


    All around her was the suggestion of violence and carnage, yet the quiet was eerie, like the prowl of a predator, silent before its strike. There were no bodies, no undead roaming in the light of day. They drove slowly in silence for more than an hour when Andy suddenly stirred and sniffed the air. ¡°Smell that?¡±


    ¡°Smell what?¡±


    He bolted up in his seat. ¡°Stop the car.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Clara said, breaking and reaching for her pistol.


    ¡°Over there,¡± he said, pushing open the door. But the traffic was jammed so tightly on either side of them that he couldn¡¯t squeeze through the gap.


    ¡°What? Where?¡±


    Winding down the window, Andy began to climb out.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Clara said. ¡°Get back in. There might be zombies out there.¡±


    ¡°Keep it running,¡± he said, dragging his legs through the window and climbing atop the roofs of cars outside. Behind them, the Hogs¡¯ pickup trucks rolled to a stop. Clara could see them pointing at Andy and chattering. Clara had failed to sync them up with their radio channels before departure, but maybe it was for the best. If they¡¯d asked, she wouldn¡¯t be able to explain Andy¡¯s actions either.


    Hopping onto the road, Andy disappeared behind the hull of an abandoned van. Clara cursed, clicking her radio on. ¡°Andy, tell me what you¡¯re doing or I¡¯ll put a bullet in that precious hip flask of yours.¡±


    ¡°Quick supply run,¡± he radioed. ¡°Chill sis.¡±


    Clara growled and wrung the steering wheel out in frustration. It was always something. Breathing deep to control her anger, Clara glanced in their wing mirror and sank lower in her seat to avoid the scrutinous gazes of the Hogs. She recognised Sax¡¯s sharp eyes behind the glass¡¯ glare, cunning and judgemental. Ahead, the Trojan had ignored their pause, and was making steady progress through the streets. It wouldn¡¯t take them long to catch up whenever Andy decided to return from his little side quest.


    A gunshot thudded through the silence, then two more. Clara¡¯s heart raced. She tried to open her door, but it was jammed against the traffic too. Leaning over, she prepared to climb through the passenger side open window when Andy¡¯s face appeared from behind the van, as calm and emotionless as ever. He climbed over the cars, a bottle of something in his hand, and shimmied back into their jeep.


    ¡°Definitely zombies,¡± he said. ¡°Slow ones, they couldn¡¯t stop me taking their¡­¡± he appraised the bottle, then scrunched up his face in disgust. ¡°Pink gin. Ugh, gross. One moment.¡± Dropping the bottle into the footwell, he prepared to climb out of the window again.


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    Clara grabbed him by the belt and pulled him back down. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare.¡± She put the jeep into gear and drove off before he could make an escape.


    ¡°I can¡¯t drink this sewage,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Then don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You know, it¡¯s full of sugar.¡±


    ¡°Then don¡¯t drink it.¡±


    He glared at her, sulking, then retrieved the bottle and unscrewed the cap. ¡°Alright, you¡¯ve forced my hand.¡±


    After thirty minutes, the road opened up around a flat roundabout covered in vehicles. They drove straight over the centre as the Trojan ploughed through a copse of trees which had sprouted there. Birds squawked and broke from the canopy as the battlewagon flattened a path, then took an exit road which cut through overgrown fields. Finally, the traffic thinned out. With two wheels on the verge, they were able to pick up a little speed, shifting into third gear, heading onto a motorway which wove around the city¡¯s perimeter.


    Clara checked the dashboard¨Cthe jeep¡¯s amber engine light was always on, but it never stalled or broke down. The keys jingled in its ignition¨Ca vehicle that didn¡¯t have to be hotwired every time you started it was a rarity these days. Occasionally, on the motorway, they would encounter vehicles piled up where a crash had occurred, forcing their little convoy to find a way through or go around. Clara was used to traversing such terrain. During the cataclysm, people had fled the cities like ants in a disturbed nest, clogging the roads, cementing their doom.


    It was 16:30 and the sun was beginning to set when they closed in on their target coordinates. Clara wound down her window, enjoying the fresh breeze, and spotted a group of large buildings across an empty field. She shifted their jeep into fourth gear as they sped over the open road¨Ctraffic had cleared up close to the coast. Checking her maps, she pinpointed that their destination facility was at the back of an industrial estate built around an estuary. The facility was once possessed by the Bulwark Project¨Cthe same international collaboration of scientists and military personnel who had endeavoured to keep humanity from extinction. No doubt, the previous owners had something to do with the reason Blue Eyes and his Harmonies had repossessed the building for their own research. Exactly what, remained a mystery.


    A mesh wire perimeter fence enclosed the estate. The gate hung open on its hinges. The battlewagon pulled up beside the fence, fumes coughing out of its exhaust as it kept the engine running. Clara parked nearby, and the Hog¡¯s two pickup trucks rolled to a stop beside her.


    ¡°Stay here,¡± she said, getting out of the jeep. Andy was busy nursing his pink gin, she doubted he¡¯d be a bother.


    One of the Hogs¡¯ rolled down their window. The man sitting inside had a rugged appearance which was softened by his gentle green eyes. He scratched the stubble of his chin, faint wrinkles of age adding a depth to his thoughtful expression. Clara recognised the tattoo on his neck¨Ctwo tusks crossed to make an X¨Cit must be the cymbal of their troupe. ¡°This is it, yeah?¡±


    ¡°These are the coordinates,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°One at the back?¡±


    Clara confirmed with a glance. ¡°That¡¯s the one.¡±


    ¡°Any signs of life?¡±


    Clara squinted towards the building. Derelict vehicles dotted around the estate, nothing serviceable. There were no smoke stacks, no guards, no lights on inside. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like it.¡±


    The man took a breath. ¡°What¡¯s the plan then?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve confirmed that there¡¯s zombies in this zone, but slow ones. We¡¯re a little far from the city now though, so they might not have wandered this far.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s not rely on that.¡±


    Clara leaned down to the window to peer inside the pickup truck. Sax was sitting in the passenger seat with a pair of binoculars. Taking up the entire back row was Abigail, her spear lying across her lap.


    ¡°We should go in quiet,¡± Clara said. ¡°Check it out.¡± She turned back towards the Trojan. Nobody from the battlewagon had come out to parlay. She¡¯d have to go and knock to get their attention.


    ¡°One team or two?¡± the mercenary asked.


    ¡°Two,¡± Clara said. ¡°Andy and I work better alone.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you agree,¡± Sax said, setting aside his binoculars. ¡°Definitely Bulwark. It¡¯s got the logo.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll take the left side,¡± the other merc added. ¡°You take the right.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Clara said, recalling the mission briefing. ¡°The facility is on the top floor. Let¡¯s meet there, but clear the building first.¡±


    The mercenary nodded. ¡°Be careful,¡± he said, glancing behind her towards Andy sitting in the jeep. ¡°Scientists can look suspiciously like zombies sometimes. Wouldn¡¯t want to kill someone we¡¯re here to save.¡±


    ¡°You too.¡± Clara patted the door frame and returned to her jeep. She didn¡¯t much like being belittled, even if it was a good point¡­ ¡°Oh, one minute.¡± She turned back around, unclipping her radio. ¡°Let¡¯s sync-¡±


    Without warning, the battlewagon roared, revving into gear and rolling off down the road. It slammed through the chain link gate, picking up speed, rumbling over the estate beyond. Clara jumped into their jeep and slammed on the gas to catch up. She would not be left in their dust, it was a matter of pride as much as strategy.


    Andy whooped and bounced in his seat.


    ¡°What are they doing?¡± Clara said. ¡°I wanted to do this quietly.¡±


    ¡°Nah, this is way better.¡±


    The Trojan battered through a second perimeter fence like a cannonball, careening towards the target site. The building stood six stories high, a cluster of satellites clung to a tower on its roof like aphids on a stalk. An old sign above the lobby entrance read ¡®Synthtech¡¯, but a banner above superseded it, reading ¡®Bulwark Project¡¯. The banner was signed by a logo which anyone would recognise: A DNA strand divided a circle in two horizontally; beneath it, a sea of black swelled as waves, pushing against the strand¡¯s barricade, above which shone a sky of white.


    Closer now, Clara could see the signs of a recent battle. Withered corpses lay on the concrete, yellow and emaciated; she could have mistaken them for mounds of dirt were it not for the baggy clothes that clung around their stick-thin shoulders. The bodies formed small mounds beneath the building¡¯s compact windows, like sand swept into the corners. The windows were boarded with scrap furniture, but many were shattered and penetrated. The Trojan ploughed ahead, then careened sidelong and stopped. There was a small popping sound and the battlewagon turned about.


    Clara swerved right just in time as an explosion ripped through the building¡¯s entryway, blowing brick and glass shrapnel across the car park. A fireball rose out of the mouth of the lobby as though the building itself were belching flames. Clara felt the heat of the fire in her lungs as she breathed deeply, adrenaline flooding her veins. She bounced over a pile of corpses around the side of the building, screeching to a halt, sandwiching their jeep between the concrete wall and the perimeter fence.


    Grabbing her submachine gun, Clara slung on her backpack and threw open the door. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

 Chapter 10 - Nightmare Rave

    Chambering a round, Andy swung out of the jeep and surveyed their surroundings. Large rectangular bins stood in a row beside an access ramp and door. Andy kept a wide berth, aiming his rifle between the bins, ready for something to jump out of the shadows while Clara checked the door. It was locked. They moved around the side of the building, searching for a way in. Andy peered beyond the chain link fence for signs of movement. A road and small concrete verge separated them from another large facility, but still nothing to shoot at.


    At the rear, a fire escape climbed to the roof, but was inaccessible¨Cthe ladder had not been let down. They ran down a row of windows, boarded up with nailed planks or pilled furniture, until they found one with less defences. Gunfire popped from the car park on the other side of the building. Andy felt a pang of jealousy for whoever was taking shots. ¡°Break the window?¡± he said, switching to his new sidearm, eager for some action.


    ¡°Hold on.¡± Clara ran her finger over the edges of the window, inspecting it. ¡°I think it¡¯s tempered glass.¡± She retrieved something from her tool belt and threw it at the glass. The pane shattered instantly, transforming into a block like blue ice with a small hole at its centre.


    ¡°Spark plug,¡± she said, picking the small white cylinder up off the floor and pocketting it. ¡°It cuts right through tempered glass.¡±


    Andy pulled chunks of the glass off with his new fingerless gloves. ¡°Neat trick.¡±


    Climbing inside, Andy pushed through a stack of chairs, toppling the barricade, ready with his 9mm pistol for something to react to his entrance. He was inside a small office space, stacks of papers piled on a large desk beside a computer monitor. The plaster walls cracked and crumbled, renovated by a mould infestation. A whiteboard bore drawings of chemical compounds, annotated at length with colourful felt tips, beneath which stood a coffee mug frothing with eight-years old mould.


    Andy moved through the quiet office, inspecting the corners and crevices for movement, heading towards a door at the rear. Clara followed him into a dark and bare corridor beyond.


    ¡°This way,¡± Clara whispered. Her headlamp shone in moats of dust in the corridor beyond. Splintered bodies scattered the floor, soft like ash, crumbling like dry leaves beneath his boots. Rags clung to their emaciated limbs like scraps of fabric caught in barbed wire fences. Bullet holes marked the walls, spent casing twinkled like nails in heaps of sawdust. Something rustled through one of the bodies. Andy aimed his pistol as a fat black rat scurried into the shadows.


    ¡°Where they burned?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°No,¡± Andy said. ¡°Their clothes are fine. They¡¯re just dry.¡±


    A tapping sound caught his attention at the end of the corridor. An arm rose out of the heap of desiccated flesh, patting a red door leading to a staircase. Andy strode over to the body and nudged it over with his boot. Severed at the torso, the zombie stared past him towards the ceiling with one bloated eye, like an overripe fruit. The flesh of its face was stretched so tightly, he could make out the contours of its skull. Tufts of hair sprouted like dying yellow weeds out of its scalp. It¡¯s jaw moved like a creaky hinge as its eyes tiredly focussed on him. Fingers stroking his calf, then clenched.


    Andy stomped on its head, crushing its skull as easily as stomping on a cardboard box. The zombie went limp.


    ¡°They¡¯re weak,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Seems that way.¡±


    ¡°Same as the ones in the liquor store?¡± she asked.


    Andy thought back. ¡°Similar. Dried out, slow.¡±


    Beside the staircase was a second door. Andy peeked through the door¡¯s window, his headlamp reflected off glass making it difficult to see inside. He turned the lamp down. Something shifted in the dark¨Cdozens of shapes, like a forest of trees swaying in the breeze.


    ¡°Something in there,¡± he said.


    ¡°What are they doing?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Moving around. Drawn by the gunfire outside, maybe.¡±


    ¡°People? Survivors?¡±


    ¡°I doubt it.¡±


    Quietly, Clara checked the door¡¯s handle. It was unlocked, but required the handle to open. Most zombie variants didn¡¯t possess the cognition to operate a handle. ¡°We should be fine, as long as we don¡¯t spook them.¡± Clara nodded at the stairwell. ¡°The facility is on the top floor. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Clara opened the door into the dark stairwell but stopped abruptly. Bodies piled against the walls. Andy raised his pistol, expecting a reaction, but nothing moved. Carcass limbs outstretched on the stairs, clawing upwards, or collapsed at the base of the steps. Their flesh clung to their bones like strands of dry leather. Andy stepped forward, snapping an outstretched arm under his heavy boot like it was old pottery. Where the bodies piled up, they crumbled like sand, shapeless, except for withered features¨Ca hand bearing a tarnished bracelet, a leg wrapped in knee-high heels, a face entombed inside a motorcycle helmet¨Call buried beneath a fracture of limbs.


    The stairwell smelled musty, a layer of dust coated the steps. Andy cleared his throat, retrieving a balaclava from his pocket, covering his mouth, keeping his other hand free to use his sidearm. His focus was drawn to the skulls, as though his AI implant was pointing a laser pen at the gunshot wounds there. Even when his AI wasn¡¯t talking to him directly, it was running Combat Conceptualisation programmes, manipulating his train of thought.


    ¡°They¡¯re dead,¡± Andy said. ¡°Headshots, all of them.¡±


    Clara kicked a shell casing, glinting in the dust. More casings left a trail, leading upstairs. ¡°Come on. The gunner might still be alive.¡±


    As they climbed the stairs each new corner was hidden in darkness, slowly revealed by their torchlights like the turning of a page. Bullet holes pocked the walls. On the top floor, Clara pointed out an escape route on the ceiling. ¡°Roof hatch.¡±


    Andy opened the stairwell door to the sixth floor, but it jammed half way. Something barricaded it from the other side. Heaving, he opened it wide enough to slip through the gap. At his feet was a corpse. It was wearing a hazmat suit covered in blood. A visor hid its face.


    Andy checked his surroundings. The room was large and well lit by a wall of windows facing the car park. A semi-circle reception desk greeted him to his left. Chairs were piled on top of it and cluttered at its base¨Chastily erected defences. Three pillars held up the roof, but aside from them, his vision was unobstructed. They were alone.


    He moved the corpse and Clara followed him into the room. She bent and inspected the body, removing its visor. The man inside was old with long dark hair and thick eyebrows. His flesh was pale, but otherwise well preserved. ¡°Fresh,¡± she said. ¡°A day or two. Probably one of the scientists, but maybe¡­¡± Clara glanced into the lobby area. ¡°Maybe more.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s our plan?¡± Andy asked.


    Clara nodded to the reinforced double doors at the other end of the room, painted black with yellow stripes. Andy approached them. A keypad was fixed next to the doors, above it read ¡®Authorised Access Only.¡¯


    ¡°Does your spark plug work on steel?¡± Andy said.


    Clara tugged on the handle. ¡°It¡¯s bolted shut, looks like we¡¯ll have to turn the power on to the building to get them open.¡± She jogged back over to the hazmat corpse and searched its pockets. ¡°Ah-ha.¡± Raising a key-card, she waved Andy over. ¡°Once we get power on, this should give us access.¡±


    ¡°How do we do that then?¡±


    Clara pursed her lips. ¡°The basement? There might be a generator.¡± She led the way back downstairs. Outside, the rate of gunfire had increased. Did that mean there were more zombies out there, attracted to the sounds? At a window, he wiped a layer of grime off with his sleeve to peer outside.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Clara said.


    Reluctantly, Andy followed. Why was it their job to get the power back on? How unfair. At the ground floor, Clara investigated a laminate diagram on the wall depicting the building¡¯s layout, then travelled through several empty rooms until they found a stairwell which delved underground. A heavy door hung ajar, the sign above it depicted electricity. ¡°In here,¡± she said.


    Andy led the way¨Che was quicker at reacting in tight spaces. His headlamp illuminated a small, dusty cellar. A large transformer filled the room, accompanied by control panels and fuse switches. Andy had seen systems like it before, linked to the defunct power grid of the old world. Likely, it hadn¡¯t been turned on in years. A tunnel had been excavated in the concrete wall nearby, descending at a slight gradient away from the old power unit. Thick cables were pinned to the one corner of the floor, trailing away into the dark. Andy shone his headlamp inside, but the distance was too great for it to illuminate the far end of the tunnel. Pointing his sidearm, he whistled softly, like calling a dog.


    ¡°Stop that,¡± Clara said, as the sound dissipated down the tunnel. ¡°There must be a backup generator at the other end. I think it leads towards the ocean.¡± Clara checked her wrist terminal. ¡°Maybe tidal generation. I bet this tunnel was built by the Bulwark Project when they took over this place.¡±


    Andy took an impatient step forward. ¡°Right, sure. Shall we?¡±


    Clara shifted her submachine gun and nodded.


    Fluorescent tape ran along the wall like a pole of faint yellow light, thrust into a black pool. Underground, it was utterly silent except for their footsteps¨Ceven the gunshots outside had disappeared into nothingness. The air was dingy and dry, not damp, as he had expected. Andy walked through the featureless corridor and soon lost track of time. Looking back, he tried to grasp the distance they¡¯d travelled. Ten metres, then fifty. One hundred? Clara¡¯s headlight behind him cast dancing shadows of his body on walls, stretching down the corridor at irregular angles, seeming to move on their own. The blackness was oddly impenetrable, like a splash of black paint.


    Andy reached out to touch the walls when his boot kicked something¨Ca pistol discarded on the ground. He knelt and checked the magazine. Empty. Andy grinned. His heart quickened. A metallic taste trickled over his tongue as his Augmentation released combat enhancing hormones into his system.


    Danger, the AI advised.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Very astute,¡± Andy whispered, holstering his sidearm, switching to his assault rifle.


    Ahead, the corridor opened up into a large room. Andy¡¯s headlamp shone off the hazy grey moats of dust, as though someone had just ripped open a bag of flour and tossed it around. Squinting, he spotted mesh gates, generators, cooling racks, consoles, and piles of rubble. Perhaps the masons hadn¡¯t finished excavation, or perhaps the generator room had caved in. However, as he grew closer, a shuffling sound grew louder, like white noise, easy to mishear. But once he noticed it, he couldn¡¯t unhear it. Something rustled amongst the piles. The sound grew louder, like hundreds of maggots writhing in a can.


    Andy dimmed his headlamp to the lowest setting, then froze in the archway. There were bodies there, dozens of them, twisted together like corpses in a mass grave. They squirmed and twitched, the abrasions of their rough flesh reverberating off the stone walls.


    Behind him, Clara dimmed her flashlight and peeked over his shoulder, submachine gun raised, ready for his signal. ¡°Are they alive?¡± she whispered.


    ¡°Technically, no.¡±


    Andy could hear Clara grind her teeth. ¡°Threat level?¡±


    Somewhere in the dark beyond the reaches of his flashlight, there was a clatter. The zombie closest Andy was lying on its back, lidless eyes grey and soulless, gazing into oblivion. Its mouth was agape like a fish, mouthing soulless words. The flesh clung to its skeleton like a thin crust, crumbling away. Years ago, Andy and Clara had encountered a very different breed of zombies¨Ca rage-virus variety¨Cbut they were incomparable to this strain. As far as he could tell, these zombies were slow and dry like crackers. He wished he¡¯d tied a balaclava around his mouth because of the dust, but if the virus was airborne, it was already too late for him and Clara.


    ¡°Docile, for now,¡± Andy whispered, no louder than the shuffling sound in the room. He took a step forward, his footfall softened by a carpet of dust.


    Clara pointed to a console near the entrance. Andy nodded and escorted her to it, making sure not to step on any toes. The bodies were mostly piled towards the centre of the room, with stragglers stretching their limbs on the concrete at his feet. Andy had never seen anything like it before. Had someone piled the bodies up¨Cperhaps when they had at first died¨Cor had they gathered like that themselves. Once at the console, Clara inspected a padlock over the casing. Her dim torch reflected off a metal panel. A zombie''s head twitched nearby, seeming to look in their direction.


    ¡°Careful,¡± Andy whispered. If the zombies got startled and attacked, they might be slow, but there were a lot of them. With his headlamp dimmed, Andy spotted three piles of zombies¨Cabout thirty or so undead. He couldn¡¯t see all of the way to the back of the room, but by the sound of it, there could be dozens of piles, and their exit was a few metres away now. He rested his finger gently on the trigger of his rifle. Synthetic combat enhancing hormones seeped into his bloodstream as his Augmentation swelled, ready to explode in a moment¡¯s notice.


    Clara fished inside one of her many utility pouches and withdrew a key, placing it inside the padlock, then, with the butt of her dagger, struck the key once. The sound cut through the air like somebody had snapped their fingers. Clara struck the key again. A cluster of zombies piled five-high seemed to have stopped moving. Slowly, their heads turned to face him, grey eyes reflecting the light of their headlamps like pebbles at the bottom of a lake. Andy¡¯s hand drifted towards a frag grenade.


    Not taking his eyes off the undead, Andy heard the ting of metal on metal as Clara removed the padlock and a rusty creak as she opened the panel door.


    She tapped Andy on the shoulder, then pressed her lips to his ear. ¡°Once I pull this, we run.¡±


    Andy nodded. His hands were sweaty, but his aim was steady. He knew without needing to check that his rifle was set to rapid fire, the magazine was full. His heart beat like an alarm as his Combat Conceptualisation protocols accelerated, picking priority targets, focussing on details. He sensed the quickest route to escape back into the tunnel, but wouldn¡¯t take it until he knew Clara was safely ahead of him.


    ¡°On you, sis.¡±


    ¡°Three,¡± Clara whispered.


    Andy aimed into the room, turning his headlamp up one notch at a time, slowly revealing the depth of the walls.


    ¡°Two.¡±


    As more of the room illuminated, the true size of the horde revealed itself. Piled to the ceiling, the zombies writhed and slipped free of their tangle, cascading softly towards them like a trickle of sand.


    ¡°One.¡±


    Clara flicked the switch. Yellow light blinked, then came on with a buzz. Andy¡¯s heart skipped a beat. The room was massive, there were dozens more piles of zombies than he¡¯d first seen, stacked taller and wider. They flinched and jumped in the light, untangling themselves, climbing over one another towards him and Clara, a sudden landslide of desperate hunger. The generator beside Andy burst to life as Andy opened fire. He sprayed from the shoulder with Enhanced Precision, drawing his muzzle across the room in an arc of destruction. Skulls burst in plumes of dust, each bullet¨Ca killshot.


    Clara grabbed his belt and guided him towards the exit while Andy focused on shooting. The zombies picked up speed, first loping towards him, tripping over themselves, then breaking into a run. His adrenaline surged as the zombies charged¨Che hadn¡¯t expected them to be so fast. They shoved past one another like droplets before a downpour, funnelled into the bottleneck of the corridor. Their mouths were agape but no screams came out, just dry, throaty rasps. The white-noise abrasive sound of decrepit flesh on flesh grew like a waterfall.


    Backing into the corridor, Andy¡¯s adrenaline subsided as his Marksman¡¯s delineation powers kicked in. He switched his rifle to single-shot, picking his shots to conserve ammo. The combat enhancing hormones flooded his system as though he had just taken a measured sip of vodka on the rocks¨Csharp and cold, sophisticated and precise.


    ¡°Class four,¡± he said between shots as they retreated down the long corridor.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Think, mid to late game Nazi Zombies. Not as fast as the Dawn of the Dead remake, but definitely no Walking Dead in the park.¡±


    ¡°What,¡± Clara said, relieving Andy with a fusillade from her submachine gun as he quickly reloaded his rifle. ¡°They¡¯re Nazis?¡±


    ¡°No, they¡¯re class four.¡±


    ¡°Why would they be Nazis?¡±


    ¡°Forget it!¡±


    Andy took over shooting again, counting the beats of his rifle like a drummer keeping time. The tide of bodies was picking up speed, falling over itself like a wave of bodies. Just as soon as he shot one zombie, another would replace it, charging forward at a sprint, jaw flapping, spindly arms outstretched. Before his rifle¡¯s magazine ran dry, he felt for his grenades, but a frag grenade was too dangerous in the tight space¨Cthe concussion and shrapnel might just as well hurt Clara and him than the undead, and what if it bounced off a charging zombie, or they happened to kick it back? Boom and goodbye.


    Turning, he ran past Clara, who returned fire down the hallway as he reloaded. There was a rhythm to how they worked together, perfected over years.


    ¡°Shoot ¡®em in the head, right?¡± she shouted over gunfire.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Andy chambered a fresh magazine and cracked the heads of a dozen more zombies, but before the forerunners fell to the ground, more closed the distance like the froth and overflow of a shaken beer bottle.


    ¡°Or cripple ¡®em,¡± he added, switching his rifle to rapid fire and kneeling, emptying the magazine into the frontrunners¡¯ legs. A swathe of zombies collapsed as their kneecaps splintered, forming a temporary blockade.


    ¡°They don¡¯t show you that in the movies,¡± Clara said, grabbing Andy by the collar of his leather jacket and hauling him to his feet, training her submachine gun on the toppling horde.


    ¡°That¡¯s cause it doesn¡¯t look very cool.¡± Andy weighed his rifle. He had fourteen bullets left, and three full magazines in his combat vest. That wouldn¡¯t be enough ammo for the whole horde, not without chucking all of his grenades. And even then¡­ Maybe they could make it out of the basement and barricade the door behind them? But he remembered the broken latches¨Cit wouldn¡¯t hold. If only he had something more powerful, like a flamethrower or bazooka.


    Suddenly, Clara stopped ahead of him and opened fire on their exit. Zombies were pouring in from the building¡¯s ground floor. They must have been attracted by the sound of gunfire. Now he and Clara were trapped, pressed on both sides by a horde.


    Andy didn¡¯t much appreciate feeling trapped. He felt a dizzying power as his Augmentation flooded his system with adrenaline and combat steroids. Turning, he fired with desperate precision. His tactic to stall the horde had worked, but only briefly. Cracks appeared in the melee of crippled bodies as a crush of zombies pushed against them from the opposite side like a hose pipe with a blocked spout. The dam broke, and the horde burst forth with terrifying momentum. Andy held his finger on the trigger, pulling the muzzle down against the recoil, making minute adjustments to control the spray. He reloaded in a blink, letting the spent magazine fall to the floor.


    The horde piled up before him, but kept on coming. Then his back hit Clara¡¯s. He turned. Zombies poured in steadily from their only exit, too many for Clara to clear on her own. Andy spun around, firing five precise shots, clearing a path towards the exit.


    Something grabbed his shoulder. Andy¡¯s Killer Instinct triggered, and before he could think, he had drawn his 9mm sidearm and shot backwards underneath his armpit three times, drawing a line up through his attacker¡¯s spine towards its skull. The zombie¡¯s head exploded, white colourless eyes flying in opposite directions. Time slowed down as a killing urge seized Andy. It tasted like he was chewing lead as his Hitman delineation pumped steroids through his veins.


    Andy slung his rifle up in one hand, holding the 9mm sidearm in his other. The corridor flashed like a rave. Zombies fell at his feet. One collided with him. Another grabbed his pistol arm. Andy recoiled, ducking and weaving, firing point blank into their faces like a boxer throwing jabs. But it wasn¡¯t enough. His marksmanship wasn¡¯t cutting it. Panic washed over him. He couldn¡¯t die to zombies, that was lame. So vanilla!


    I¡¯m yours.


    A warm sensation spread through his hip as Julie vibrated in her holster. Suddenly, the whole world melted away, and it was just Andy and his revolver. Normally, he wouldn¡¯t use the six-shooter against hordes, but something told him to forget logic, and trust Julie. With a thought, she bolted out of her holster and snapped into his hands with Deadly Attraction. As soon as he touched her polished wood handle, he knew it was right. He could feel her swollen energy, begging for release. Andy cocked her hammer and obliged.


    A shockwave erupted from Julie¡¯s barrel, screaming down the corridor, ripping through the horde. The shockwave tore the zombies apart like dynamite thrown into a box of matches. Many of the forerunners turned to dust in a second, like smoke bombs. Andy coughed and cleared the air with his hand. What was that? His powers? He didn¡¯t know he had it in him.


    Alert: Affinity delineation synthesis complete. Experimental programme installed: Vortex Shot. Please calibrate at an Augmentation Master Console.


    Julie hummed in his hand, pining for him to pull the trigger. That quickly, and she was eager to go again.


    Andy strode towards the horde with Julie outstretched and fired another Vortex Shot. He felt power swell from the soles of his feet up his spine, through his arm and into Julie¡¯s slick mechanism. It was as though his entire body had become an explosive device, combusted by his and Julie¡¯s passion. The walls shook as he pulled Julie¡¯s trigger and she screamed. The boom was low, laden with sub-frequencies, making his ears ring in new ways he didn¡¯t think they could.


    With just three Vortex Shots, he had cleared a path down the corridor back towards the generator room. But the zombies at the rear were getting up, and there were more behind them. If thrown right, he could plant a grenade right in the middle of the horde. Unpinning the grenade, he ran towards the exit. Clara was there, covering his back. He threw the grenade down the corridor and leapt through the doorway, slamming it shut behind him and leaning on it. The explosion shook the door.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Clara shouted, though her voice sounded distant and dull.


    Andy rubbed his ears. ¡°Grenade.¡±


    Clara attached two thick zip ties around the doors¡¯ handles and pulled them taught. ¡°No, stupid. Before that?¡±


    ¡°Oh, just me and Julie.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? How?¡±


    Andy spun his revolver around his finger, blew her barrel, even though it wasn¡¯t smoking, and holstered her, just like he¡¯d practised in front of the mirror a hundred times. ¡°A new Augmentation thingy.¡±


    Clara¡¯s mouth dropped. ¡°What, really? What is it?¡±


    ¡°Just something me and Julie have been cooking up together.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s incredible,¡± Clara said. ¡°You can just do that now? The big explosion thing?¡±


    Andy clicked his tongue. ¡°Yeah.¡± Though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure.


    ¡°Nice one, bro.¡± Clara punched his shoulder.


    Pretending it didn¡¯t hurt, Andy flicked Julie¡¯s cylinder open and refilled her with bullets. ¡°Cheers. Now give me something else to try it out on.¡±

 Chapter 11 - Authorised Personnel

    They returned upstairs to the laboratory, but Clara¡¯s mind was elsewhere. Andy had done it. He¡¯d unlocked a new ability for his Augmentation, and it was the most spectacular one yet: some sort of vortex blast. She knew that Augmented soldiers were capable of magnificent feats, bordering on the magical, but she¡¯d never before seen it up close. Clara grinned to herself, climbing the stairs with a hop to her step. She had been right to steer them into more dangerous territory and push Andy to his limits. But then again, had he gotten stronger out of a sense of ambition or personal betterment, or had it more to do with that revolver he was so fixated on which he kept calling a woman¡¯s name? Julie. Either way, she¡¯d take it.


    With the power on, Clara was able to open the security door using the keycard. It slid open smoothly, on two corridors signposted ¡®Offices¡¯ and ¡®Laboratory¡¯. Before moving on, Clara dragged a chair from the lobby area and jammed it in the security door¡¯s path, preventing it from closing behind them. Last thing they needed was for the power to go out and trap them inside. They headed towards the lab, submachine gun close to her chest, passing by several rooms stocked with computers and scientific apparatus. What few light bulbs flickered cast a fluorescent light on the white furniture. There were no windows beyond the security door, so Clara turned on her flashlight. There were no corpses here either, nothing smashed or left in a hurry. The air smelt of sterile chemicals. It was like they¡¯d stepped into a pre-cataclysmic alternative reality.


    ¡°It smells horrible,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°It smells better than you.¡±


    Andy lingered in a doorway. Clara followed his gaze to a gurney, flanked by medical devices, stacked on wheeled shelves. Intravenous bags and tubes, wires and electrical nodes. A tray of surgical tools lay neat on a counter beside the gurney. Thick restraints were tied to the gurney¡¯s frame. A claw-like brace loomed over the headrest like a tarantula, braced to strike.


    ¡°What do you think they used that for?¡± Clara said.


    Andy shrugged. ¡°Massage chair?¡±


    Clara snorted at the medieval-like contraption. ¡°Not even that could work out the knots in my back.¡± At the end of the corridor was a locker room. Hazmat suits hung from pegs, others were discarded in a wash bin, overflowing onto the floor. Clara stepped around them and through two swinging doors at the rear. Before her, spread the main laboratory. Compact computer stations stood like the pews of a church before a row of cylindrical chambers. The chambers reminded Clara of giant lightbulbs¨Csimilar to the Augmentation Master Console in the Harmonies¡¯ headquarters. Soft blue light shone from their bases, illuminating the liquid inside. Black cables snaked over the white tiled floor, climbing up a walkway which ringed the room, leading to more consoles along the upper walls. Many of the machines were built directly into the walls¨Cuniform in nature with minute blinking lights, whereas other consoles were stacked on tables beside them, plugged into the complex patchwork like an afterthought. Above them all, mounted onto the white walls were three huge monitors, each the size of a storage container.


    Clara inspected a terminal, booting it up. A string of code flashed by, then the Bulwark Project logo rotated against a grey background. Clara¡¯s heart fluttered. Inside this machine might be the secrets to the apocalypses, or an instruction manual on the Augmentation Serum. Perhaps she could discover a better way to advance Andy¡¯s abilities, or discover how the most powerful alliance in human history failed. Her fingers brushed the keyboard. All she had to do was ask the right question.


    ¡°You see, that¡¯s it,¡± Andy said.


    Clara looked over her shoulder. Andy was talking to himself again, or rather, to the AI implant in his head.


    Pacing about the room, eyes glazed over, Andy shook his head. ¡°Quit lying robot, you can¡¯t get anything past me.¡± He paused, presumably to let the AI respond. ¡°Yeah right, you¡¯re in there too. You know I¡¯m not thick.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Clara dared to ask.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Andy snapped out of his daze.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°Oh, the robot¡¯s trying to tell me that this wasn¡¯t all aliens.¡± Andy waved his arms about the room. ¡°She- I mean¡­ It is never real with me. I ask it who built the pyramids, and it¡¯s like, I dunno, slaves? I ask it who shot JFK and it reads off a pre-approved CIA script.¡± Andy tapped his skull. ¡°This thing was built by the government, right? So it knows all the government¡¯s secrets and it¡¯s just choosing not to share them with me. Withholding bitch.¡±


    Clara blinked. That was a lot to take in. ¡°So¡­ you asked your AI implant who built this lab?¡±


    ¡°No, I know who built the lab. The bollocks project or whatever they¡¯re called. I asked it who gave them the tech in the first place? The Augmentation stuff. It had to come from somewhere.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were interested in that sort of stuff.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, a bit. Not anymore though.¡± Andy looked towards the ceiling as though he was addressing the AI. ¡°Sorry I even brought it up.¡±


    A cracking sound came from outside. They both froze and looked at one another, then dashed out of the laboratory, weapons drawn. Clara could hear footsteps from the end of the corridor, near the security door, then a huge body shifted in the dim light.


    Stopping at a distance, Clara grabbed Andy¡¯s shoulder to restrain him, but kept her submachine gun at the ready. ¡°Friendly?¡±


    The figure jumped, then froze. ¡°Friendly.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Clara said. ¡°It¡¯s us.¡±


    Abigail took a step around the corner into full view, almost knocking her head into a fluorescent bulb on the ceiling.


    Slinging her gun over her shoulder, Clara approached the Augmented warrior. ¡°How¡¯s your team, any injured?¡±


    ¡°One,¡± Abigail grunted. ¡°The scientists here?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s empty.¡±


    Two more of the Hogs mercenaries came around the corner. Sax¨Cthe short fox-like fellow¨Cwas struggling to help carry a wounded man. A crossbow dangled by its strap on his shoulder and it looked like he was ready to collapse. Clara squeezed past Abigail to help, grabbing the bow and taking his other arm.


    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± Sax snapped.


    Clara faltered, she hadn¡¯t expected that. ¡°Helping you carry him.¡±


    ¡°You can return our weapons.¡±


    ¡°Sax,¡± Abigail admonished. ¡°Little man. Let her help.¡±


    Together, they carried the injured mercenary into the corridor, where the light was better, and set him down. Sax was sweating from the strain, but his comrade looked worse. A sheen of white plastered his dark skin like a layer of plaster. Frizzy hair poked out beneath a beanie cap, and he wore a shortsword at his waist.


    ¡°I have a first aid kit,¡± Clara said. ¡°How was he injured?¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t work,¡± Abigail walked past her with a slight waddle heading towards the laboratory, her spear balanced in her hand. The weapon glinted, it looked to Clara like carbon steel, with a cruel razor wedge at its tip.


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    ¡°Ignore her,¡± Sax squeaked. ¡°Do you have any antibiotics, painkillers? Strong stuff?¡±


    Clara bit her tongue. That sort of equipment was a lot more expensive than bandages. ¡°I¡¯ll have a look.¡±


    ¡°You best do,¡± Sax said. ¡°It¡¯s your fault. We had quite a melee thanks to the racket you two made. Woke the whole building up.¡± Sax took a deep breath and bent to pick his comrade up again.


    ¡°Is it just you three left?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°And one more outside.¡± Sax snarled. ¡°Bloody unprofessionals.¡±


    Clara picked up the crossbow for the injured man, but left him and Sax to walk alone, falling back a few paces behind them to chat with Andy.


    ¡°Nice guy.¡±


    ¡°I recognise him,¡± Andy said, once they were out of earshot.


    ¡°Where from?¡±


    ¡°Not a clue.¡±


    Clara groaned. ¡°I hope he doesn¡¯t have a vendetta on you.¡±


    Andy shrugged. ¡°Let¡¯s find out.¡±


    Ahead, the Hogs passed through the locker room and into the laboratory. Clara heard Sax whistle as he entered the chamber. He had set his injured comrade down in an office chair and was purveying the room, a twinkle in his eye. ¡°That¡¯s something.¡±


    ¡°There was a horde in the basement,¡± Clara said. ¡°That¡¯s what all the noise was about. I¡¯m sorry it caused you trouble, we didn¡¯t expect to get in a fight.¡±


    The Hogs didn¡¯t respond. Clara felt like they were judging her.


    ¡°We were trying to get the power back on,¡± she added.


    ¡°Miss,¡± the injured man wheezed, seeming to fight the weight of his own head. ¡°You got any painkillers?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Placing the crossbow at his feet, Clara dug inside her pouches and unzipped the first aid kit. ¡°Antibiotics too?¡±


    The man paused as his eyes wandered, then he shook his head and sighed. ¡°Won¡¯t need them.¡±


    Clara handed him two strong pills and a bottle of water. He took them in shaky hands, tossing his head back to swallow.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, returning the bottle. ¡°My name¡¯s Daniel, by the way.¡± He held out his hand.


    ¡°Clara,¡± she said. His hand was cold and sweaty when Clara shook it.


    ¡°Look at this place,¡± Sax said from the walkway. He was exploring the laboratory like a dog sniffing up a park. ¡°It hasn¡¯t been touched since the cataclysm. We¡¯d could shift them computers to the Dreamlord in Sabbath. And just look at those AMCs. They¡¯re in perfect condition. That¡¯s a fortune.¡±


    ¡°These are old,¡± Abigail said, planting her spear¡¯s haft on the tiled floor. ¡°They are prototype. Experimental. It is not what I use.¡±


    ¡°So what? Someone would buy them.¡± Sax skittered down the stairs to appraise the lightbulb-like vats. He ran his hand over the glass, leaving smudges. ¡°We didn¡¯t find the scientists, but their payload might be here. And even if it¡¯s not, there¡¯s enough salvage to get rich. We gut this place and put it on the market.¡± He grinned, then quickly closed his mouth and looked at Andy.


    Andy sat on a swivel chair, staring back. Clara bit her lip, she knew that look, like a cat watching his prey.


    ¡°There¡¯s enough here to share, of course,¡± Sax said, lowering his chin so that his eyes shaded over in the fluorescent light.


    ¡°That¡¯s not the mission,¡± Abigail said. ¡°Where is the payload?¡±


    ¡°First we get comms back on,¡± Clara said, standing above the terminal she¡¯d investigated before. It was stuck on the same screen with a loading bar stuck at zero percent. A warning message read: ¡®Data transmission error. Satellite upload interrupted.¡¯


    ¡°Looks like they were trying to send something,¡± Clara said. ¡°Research data, maybe information about where they went?¡±


    ¡°Is there an error code?¡± Daniel asked, struggling to his feet. He held his arm against his chest¨Cthe only visible injury on his body. Perhaps he had suffered blood loss, which was making him weak. But, if he¡¯d been bitten by a zombie¡­


    Daniel clicked through a diagnostic¡¯s screen. ¡°Their satellites were damaged. Maybe physically. We should take a look on the roof.¡±


    ¡°I saw an access panel at the top of the stairwell,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Good, we¡¯ll go together,¡± Abigail said.


    Clara paused, Would it be safe to leave Andy here alone? What if he got into a fight? What if the others attack him? Two verses one. In fact, she still favoured Andy¡¯s odds in that scenario. She kicked his boot to get his attention. ¡°Radio me if something happens. Play nice.¡±


    She and Abigail travelled back through the facility, past the wedged-open security door and into the stairwell. Abigail reached up and tugged on the access latch in the ceiling. It was locked. She heaved, her muscles bulged, and the door came crashing down. Plaster crumbled where the frame had cracked. Leaping up with one hand, she passed her spear through the gap, then heaved herself through onto the roof, extending a hand back down for Clara.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Clara said, as she was pulled off her feet. She could help but feel a little diminutive compared to Abigail¡¯s strength.


    Outside, the air was crisp, and the light of day was dimming. Abigail pointed with her spear towards a satellite tower at the opposite end of the roof, nearby where a final story had been added to house the large laboratory. A gunshot echoed over the city from the carpark below. Clara peeked over the edge at the Trojan, still parked in the centre of the industrial estate. A sizable horde of zombies were pressed against the chain link fence all around the facility, in some places twenty or thirty deep. But they were placid, unlike those she had encountered in the basement. They moved lazily, attracted by the sound of gunfire, but only occasionally did one stumble in through the open fence for the Trojan to gun them down. Clara wondered why they behaved so differently. Perhaps they needed to see or smell a human before becoming enraged, and the sight of the battlewagon just wasn¡¯t doing it for them.


    Calra took her gaze off the shooting gallery. They might have some difficulty driving out of here once the job was done, but that was a problem for later. Abigail led the way towards the satellite towner, which bore about a dozen dishes. One of the larger dishes had come loose, dangling from its wires which remained pinned to the top of the tower.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got it,¡± Calra said, taking the dilapidated dish in one hand and climbing the tower¡¯s rungs. At the top, she wrapped her forearm and shin around a pole and dug into her pouches for zip ties, reattaching the satellite to face west, towards Quadra.


    ¡°Is the power off?¡± Clara shouted down to Abigail. The big warrior had forced her way into a nearby control room.


    ¡°I will turn it on.¡±


    ¡°Leave it off for a second,¡± Clara said, fiddling with the torn cables. Clara took the gamble and touched the wire. It was inactive. She frayed both ends and twisted it together, then wrapped it in electrical tape. By the time she was done, her fingers were numb. She took a moment to warm them and appreciate the view. The late winter air was fresh and salty from the sea. From her vantage, Clara could see the industrial district sprawl all the way to the sea. In the distance, large cranes framed a derelict shipyard. Rows of containers stood in attendance to a massive cargo ship¡¯s open casket funeral as it lay lopsided on the dock¡¯s wharf. Behind her, the sun was low dipping beneath the jungle hills where they¡¯d come from.


    Clara checked her terminal. It was almost 16:00. It would get dark soon.


    Gunshots continued to ring out like dinner bells to the city¡¯s infected populace. Clara sighed. What were they even trying to accomplish out there, and how were they helping? She¡¯d have to have a word with the mercenaries running the Trojan before they made their way back to Quadra. She needed to get them on the same radio channel as her, get them communicating and working together.


    ¡°Are you ready?¡± Abigail asked.


    ¡°Yep, turn her on.¡± Clara climbed back down the tower. Although the big warrior intimidated Clara a little bit, she trusted Abigail more than her partner Sax, who wore his appetite for betrayal on his sleeve. She hoped that Abigail could keep him in check, while Clara did the same with Andy. This was always the problem working with other mercs¨Cthere were a lot of egos flying around, and a lot of greed.


    They returned to the laboratory without a hitch. Andy was sitting in his chair, staring at the other two Hogs mercenaries. Daniel looked in a bad state. His skin was ashen and flaky. He slumped against the wall, breathing raggedly.


    ¡°What meds did you give him?¡± Sax said as they entered. He knelt beside Daniel, all of his enthusiasm for salvaging technology had gone. ¡°He¡¯s getting worse. You were holding out on us.¡±


    ¡°No I¡¯m not,¡± Clara said. ¡°I don¡¯t have antibiotics for this sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Well then what do you have?¡± He raised his voice. ¡°Why are you even here? All you¡¯ve done is create a racket. You¡¯re responsible for this.¡± He jabbed a finger and approached her, his teeth bared.


    ¡°Mistakes are made,¡± Abigail said, standing above Daniel. ¡°How are you, boss?¡±


    ¡°Bad,¡± he said. His voice was dry and hollow, like spoken through a broken flute. ¡°But¡­ I can fight it.¡±


    Abigail knelt and tilted his head back with one finger, carefully pouring water into his mouth. Beside her massive frame, Daniel seemed like a child.


    ¡°This is going to come out of your end,¡± Sax said, getting close to Clara. ¡°And you better hope he doesn¡¯t die or¡­¡±


    Andy rolled into view on his desk chair, the backrest pressed against his chest. A thin smile cut his lips, revealing his yellowing canines. ¡°Oh, do go on.¡± He leaned forward, hand dangling nonchalantly at his waist, where his revolver waited inside its holster. Clara knew that smile¨Cshe only had a couple seconds to intervene before things got out of hand.


    ¡°Or nothing,¡± Clara blurted.


    ¡°Or you¡¯ll pay,¡± Sax said, sealing their fates.

 Chapter 12 - Last Words

    Clara squared up to Sax, coming between him and Andy. ¡°Are you threatening us?¡± she said, fighting to control her voice.


    Abigail strode to Sax¡¯s side, towering over Clara, almost twice her height and several times her girth. The gladiator let the point of her spear droop, casually aiming it at Clara¡¯s chest. ¡°Who is threatening?¡±


    Clara heard the creak of a chair behind her. Andy was moving into position. Panic flushed through her. ¡°Hold on, calm down. We¡¯re not going to make any quick decisions. Your companion is bitten, yes, but it¡¯s your call what we do.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡± Andy said behind her.


    ¡°Andy,¡± she barked. ¡°Shut up.¡±


    Suddenly, the monitor beside him flickered on, running a video feed. Clara pointed at the terminal. ¡°Look, it¡¯s working. The satellite must have rebooted.¡± She glanced at Abigail, trying to catch her eye contact. ¡°We did it.¡±


    The huge woman grunted. ¡°Good.¡±


    Andy turned his head slowly to watch. The video feed displayed a thin and sweaty man looking into the camera. Black pits hung from his wide eyes, saggy with exhaustion. Clara recognised the setting, the video had been recorded on the same terminal which they stood beside. A notification at the bottom of the screen displayed the message ¡®Transmission in progress. Please do not interrupt.¡¯ and there was an optional ¡®Maximise stream to external monitors.¡¯


    Approaching the monitor, Clara clicked it, and the three large monitors hung on the rear wall lit up, displaying the same feed and playing the audio over speakers.


    ¡°The date is the fourteenth of January, it¡¯s seven o¡¯clock. The sun has just risen. We have decided to evacuate the laboratory and head north east. It¡¯s the quickest way out of the city. I haven¡¯t decided this on a whim. Do not blame me, do not send men to hunt me down. I am loyal to you, Old Blue Eyes, for this opportunity to do my work. I want the same things you want, however¡­¡±


    The man paused, looking down, clenching his eyes shut. Clara recognised him, and checked her wrist terminal to confirm. He was the lead scientist whom they were tasked to retrieve: Linton. Excited, she checked the time stamp. ¡°Two days ago,¡± Clara said. By now, everyone was fixated on the screens.


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­¡± The lead scientist in the video feed spluttered. ¡°We can¡¯t go on like this. The building is full of them. The Grizzlies you sent to supplement our defences were imbeciles without a single brain cell between them except the motor neurons required to wield an axe. Now they¡¯re all dead. I understand that resources are stretched thin amongst the Harmonies, but the wild animals you sent were simply unprofessional. They couldn¡¯t sit still! They were too noisy. I told them, at night, to be silent, but they attracted the horde. I think that¡¯s what they wanted¡­ a fight. By the morning,¡± he held up a finger. ¡°One left. One merc left to protect us all, and he was traumatised. He¡¯d bashed his companions¡¯ brains in when they turned. So he marched around the laboratory making unreasonable requests. Threatening us to work faster. Drinking and saying crazy things about the dark.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like Doe¡¯s team to me,¡± Sax said. Clara figured he was talking about the dead mercs¨Cthey had been Grizzlies too, part of the same mother tribe as the Hogs.


    Abigail growled. ¡°The chief should have chosen us from the start.¡±


    Sax nodded. ¡°Guess they¡¯re all gone now.¡±


    ¡°One night,¡± Linton continued on the feed. ¡°He woke up screaming about demons in the shadows. He started flailing wildly in the dark, nearly killed Riddhi in her sleep. The sound attracted more zombies, but worse than that, he destroyed the anomaly containment chamber. We didn¡¯t think about it much at first, we didn¡¯t have the time. We barricaded the stairway and fought for our lives. Lost more¡­ Christ, I can¡¯t tell you how much we lost. We¡¯re lucky to survive. At night, they change. The zombies become feral. Their hearing improves, their hunger¡­¡± Linton shivered, his eyes getting lost.


    Clara checked her wrist terminal and shared a glance with Andy. The nights were early in winter. The sun was setting outside.


    ¡°And then I started to see it too.¡± Linton choked on his words, struggling to contain his fear. ¡°Things in the shadows, like black veils in the breeze. Things¡­ happened, okay. Stuff got knocked over and lights went out. We lost power. I know that sounds trivial, but it¡¯s difficult to describe this feeling that we all had. Cold. Something is here with us in the dark. It knows what we¡¯re doing. It watches us sleep. It sinks into everything and it brings the night. The night! I can¡¯t bear another. We have to escape.¡±


    Linton leapt up from his chair, diminishing in the video feed as he paced about the room. He wore a baggy hazmat suit, and Clara could tell by the divets in his cheeks that he was malnutritioned. He picked up a metal briefcase, holding it up for the camera. ¡°This is it. The prototype. And it probably works, but I can¡¯t be sure. Once you get this transmission, please send a recovery team to zone Four-A. That¡¯s where we¡¯re heading, and with any luck-¡±


    The transmission ended abruptly.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Sax said.


    Clara checked the terminal, it read ¡®Transmission complete¡¯.


    ¡°The satellite must have fallen right then and cut him off,¡± she said.


    ¡°We can track them down,¡± Abigail said.


    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡°Tonight?¡± Sax said. ¡°Or do we stay, wait out the night?¡±


    ¡°Stay,¡± Clara said. ¡°I don¡¯t like the sound of shadows and feral zombies but, frankly, we¡¯re professionals. We can defend the rooftop overnight, and there¡¯s a fire escape if we need to get down. Trust me, we don¡¯t want to face the horde while it¡¯s feral. The ones in the basement, where it was dark, were fast, ferocious.¡±


    ¡°Nazi zombies,¡± Andy added. ¡°High level. Original Verruckt map, maybe.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Sax said.


    ¡°The zombies,¡± Andy said. ¡°When they¡¯re in the dark, yeah, they go from being all slow to like, say¡­ Zombieland. Have you seen that one? It might be more up your street.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s using references,¡± Clara explained. ¡°From before the cataclysm.¡±


    ¡°Popular culture,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Sax said. ¡°So, what, they¡¯re more dangerous in the dark?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°Like¡­¡± Sax glanced between Clara and Andy, unsure of himself. ¡°Like the ones in I am Legend?¡±


    Andy snorted. ¡°Those are vampires.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Yeah stupid.¡±


    ¡°No they¡¯re not.¡±


    ¡°Read the comics.¡±


    ¡°Guys,¡± Clara said. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what they are or what references you want to make. Listen to me, if we reach the rooftop quietly, we shouldn¡¯t have any trouble. Then tomorrow, we pick up on the scientists¡¯ trail in the morning.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Abigail said. ¡°Too slow.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a better chance of finding them in the daylight,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Daniel needs medicine,¡± Sax said. ¡°There¡¯s probably a pharmacy in town.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Clara said. ¡°Are you kidding me? You heard what he said. It gets worse at night. We¡¯re not going anywhere. Besides, that message was just sent to Quadra. Blue Eyes will have received it by now and is probably sending reinforcements as we speak. If not that, he¡¯ll send a correspondence. We should at least wait until the morning.¡±


    ¡°Then you wait here,¡± Sax said. ¡°We¡¯ve got a job to do.¡±


    ¡°Leave.¡± Daniel struggled to speak. ¡°Go.¡± They all looked at him, slouched against the wall.


    ¡°See,¡± Sax said. ¡°Daniel agrees. He hasn¡¯t given up yet.¡±


    Clara¡¯s heart sank. The merc was hanging in there, but for how long? She wondered how best to approach the topic of executing him once he turned into a zombie. That was never an easy conversation to have.


    In the quiet, a muffled sound reached her from outside. Gunfire. The Trojan was still out there firing pot-shots at zombies, while the sun set about them. Clara broke into a run. As she reached the lobby to the facility, the gunfire sounded more rapid. Several weapons joined the clamour as she reached the reception area window. Outside, zombies were hurling themselves at the chain fence, climbing on top of one another with surmounting fervour. The Trojan¡¯s headlights were on, and muzzles flashed from every firing slit.


    Behind her, each of the three Hogs entered the lobby, Andy taking up the rear. He watched Sax carry Daniel over his shoulder. The wiry man placed his senior on a chair, then pressed his earpiece. ¡°All good Robert? Ready to go?¡±


    ¡°Affirmative.¡± The voice sounded over the radio in each of the Hogs¡¯ earpieces.


    ¡°Get the meds out of the boot,¡± Sax said over the channel. ¡°Every antibiotic you can find. He¡¯s in bad shape, but he¡¯s been in worse. Aye, boss?¡±


    Daniel¡¯s head lulled. He looked up at Sax with grave eyes.


    ¡°Priority is get out of this fucking city,¡± Sax said.


    A loud horn blurted outside, the Trojan¡¯s modified horn sounding like a baying stallion. Clara soon realised what they were signalling. The perimeter fence had been breached, trampled by the crush of bodies. Flames lit the night as the Trojan whirled into action, driving to align itself with the new horde. But zombies piled on all sides of the fence, falling over the fence where their bodies were stacked high enough to surmount it. The Trojan revved its engine and accelerated towards the exit. Zombies collided with it, bouncing off its hull like raindrops on the concrete. The battlewagon flattened everything in its path, obliterating the corpses beneath its wheels, disappearing down the road, into the vast fields beyond, its red tail lights dimming over the distance.


    ¡°Idiots,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°We are better without them,¡± Abigail said.


    Clara felt exposed in the window, as though a zombie might look up and notice her. The horde was massive now. They must have hidden in the shadows during the day, she hadn¡¯t seen this many on the streets while they were driving that morning. ¡°If we¡¯re going to leave, we have to do it now.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s turned,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°What?¡± Sax said.


    ¡°That¡¯s a zombie,¡± Andy pointed at Daniel, who sat hunched over in the chair, his head hanging between his hands.


    ¡°That¡¯s our boss, mate. Do you have a problem with that?¡±


    ¡°Nope. Not got a problem shooting either of you.¡±


    ¡°Andy,¡± Clara said. ¡°Cool it.¡±


    Sax stormed up to Andy and shouted in his face. ¡°You wanna go, kid? You think you¡¯re tough?¡± He was shorter than Andy, who remained leaning against the wall, arms crossed.


    ¡°Be quiet,¡± Abigail shouted.


    ¡°I don¡¯t take orders from you,¡± Sax spat. ¡°I take them from him.¡± He pointed at Daniel. ¡°He¡¯s my boss. Has been for years. A lot longer than I¡¯ve known you. And he¡¯s seen a lot, and we¡¯ve come through a lot-¡±


    Daniel¡¯s head snapped around to Sax. He bound out of his chair like a rabid dog. Andy shot him a split second later. The revolver was deafening in close quarters. Daniel¡¯s corpse collided with Sax sending them both tumbling to the floor.


    ¡°Fucker!¡± Sax pushed Daniel¡¯s corpse off him and scrambled to his feet. ¡°You shot him.¡±


    ¡°It,¡± Andy corrected, training his revolver on Sax¡¯s head.


    The little man bit down on his tongue so hard he shook with anger. His eyes swelled, veins bulging in his neck. His hand twitched to a dagger at his side.


    ¡°Had he turned?¡± Abigail asked, a quiver in her voice. Clara took a step away from the huge warrior, afraid she¡¯d suddenly lose her temper.


    ¡°He was getting up,¡± Sax said.


    Andy chuckled. ¡°Yeah, sure. He was gonna be fine.¡±


    A clatter in the stairwell beyond drew Clara¡¯s attention. Outside in the car park, an offshoot of zombies had turned away from the road, running back towards the building. They attracted more, who followed like sand trickling through an hourglass.


    ¡°Hush,¡± Clara said. ¡°Is that your man in the stairwell?¡±


    Abigail paused to listen, then radioed in. ¡°No, he¡¯s with the vehicles.¡±


    Clara¡¯s heart dropped. ¡°Then tell him to hide.¡±

 Chapter 13 - Escape

    Andy kept Julie trained on the little man¡¯s head and gestured to the stairwell. ¡°After you.¡±


    ¡°Andy,¡± Clara said. ¡°Put your weapon down.¡±


    Reluctantly, he holstered Julie. It would only take him a split second to draw her again anyway.


    ¡°Sax,¡± his sister continued, getting between him and the little foxy fellow. ¡°He was dead, you know that. Be professional.¡±


    The man chewed his lip, his expression in knots of frustration, but he didn¡¯t reach for his weapon.


    ¡°Come,¡± the muscular mercenary with the spear said. ¡°We should get to the roof.¡±


    Andy followed his sister into the stairwell. The clamour downstairs was getting louder.


    ¡°I will hold them off,¡± the spear-wielding merc said. ¡°Don¡¯t shoot unless you have to. You will only draw more.¡±


    Clara braced beneath a hole in the ceiling to give Andy a leg up. He jumped up and onto the roof, then offered a hand down to Clara. She grabbed his forearm, but he struggled to haul her up. ¡°Damn you weigh a ton.¡±


    ¡°Thanks a lot,¡± she said, pulling herself through the frame. ¡°You should lift more weights.¡± She lay flat on the roof, offering her hand down to the other merc. Andy jogged over to the building¡¯s edge above where they¡¯d parked their jeep next to the alleyway. Zombies lined the chain fence, but there were no breaches nearby¨Cthe worst of that was in the carpark beyond. There was a fire escape at the rear of the building above where they¡¯d broken in earlier that day. If they went down it, they could get to their jeep without a problem.


    Behind him, the last of the warrior merc climbed onto the roof. The tip of her spear was blackened with a chalky residue. Something tickled the back of Andy¡¯s mind like a blinking warning light. Andy turned around just as a lone zombie burst out of the rooftop control room beside the satellite tower and sprinted towards them. Andy wanted to shoot it, but knew it was a bad idea. The sound would only attract more. Staying his hand, he watched as the big woman stepped forward to intercept. She brandished her spear in one arm, her other extended for balance.


    The zombie charged, arms outstretched, but before it reached her, the woman pounced. Her arm snapped out like a machine piston, stabbing and obliterating the zombie¡¯s head. Its body skidded forward and crashed into the woman¡¯s legs, shattering on impact. She was unphased by the impact, calmly glancing around for more targets. Andy wondered if he could draw his revolver as fast as she could stab her spear. Probably not. Best he didn¡¯t piss her off in close quarters.


    The four of them ran down the fire escape. At the bottom, Clara kicked the ladder down to the ground. Cover me,¡± she said.


    Andy unslung his rifle and trained the ironsights on the fence nearby. The zombies were paying close attention to them now, sticking their arms through the chain link fence, clawing and gnawing on the wires. But the fence looked sturdy, for now. Once Clara reached the bottom, Andy followed after her. As he reached the ground, the sounds of rasping hunger and the jangling fence surrounded him. As the daylight rapidly dimmed, more zombies threw themselves against the chain-link barrier, thankfully lacking the intelligence to climb it. They clawed and writhed, hissing, reaching through holes where the links had snapped and bent. One zombie was crushed against the fence so hard that its face began to grate through the wire link, cracking and crumbling at the joints. Others lay dead at its base where those behind had trampled and smashed their skulls.


    The muscular Augmented soldier leapt from the fire escape and landed on the concrete with a thud. Andy raised an eyebrow. He had to admit, that was a little impressive. ¡°Why can¡¯t I do that?¡± he asked his AI.


    The Gunslinger archetype does not specialise in athletics.


    ¡°But could it?¡±


    With proper training and precise calibration, theoretically, any experimental ability may be optimised for maximum performance and-


    ¡°Ah, never mind,¡± Andy said. Last thing he needed was the robot pestering him to stick to a workout regime.


    Alert: Newly activated capabilities require calibration at the Augmentation Master Console to achieve optimal functionality.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got you started now, haven¡¯t I.¡±


    Clara peeked around the corner of the building, then called Andy over. ¡°Get out of the city,¡± she called to the other mercs as they headed in the opposite direction. ¡°Frequency band six,¡± she waved her radio at them. ¡°Stay in touch.¡±


    Soulless eyes lit up like stained-glass spotlights as Andy turned his headlamp on the fence, searching for breaches. It was sketchy. They had about a minute to get in their jeep and bail, but a handful of zombie stood in their way. They must have gotten in through the breach in the car park. Andy drew his 9mm sidearm, gifting them each a bullet to the head, clearing a path. With each shot, the horde shook the fence like a crowd of sports fans cheering him on.


    ¡°You like that?¡± Andy asked the undead, shooting one in the face just for the fun of it. As it collapsed, it was replaced by a child-zombie with thin black hair, wearing a mucky pink dress.


    ¡°Cute,¡± Andy said, aiming his sidearm at the little zombie¡¯s head.


    ¡°Andy,¡± Clara yelled from beside the jeep. ¡°Quit messing-¡±


    With a crash, the fence beside him collapsed. Zombies stampeded through an opening. Andy leapt onto the jeep¡¯s exterior, grabbing the roof brace as Clara started the engine. He jammed the slim sidearm in his mouth and unpinned a frag grenade, throwing it towards the breach. The grenade boomed as Clara slammed the jeep in reverse. Fragments of zombie spattered Andy¡¯s face like a hail of woodchip as a cloud of corpse dust swelled in the alleyway. Andy wiped his eyes, retrieving the pistol from his mouth.


    Two more zombies ran ahead of the blast, but Andy put them down with two well placed shots as Clara accelerated out of the alleway. Andy climbed into the backseat as their jeep collided with obstacles in the road. There was quite a carpet of dead around where the battlewagon had been parked. Clara wrenched the wheel under control as Andy leant out of the window, one hand on the roof brace, assault rifle in his other. Clara drove straight for the exit, but zombies still poured in from the road beyond.


    Andy fired with one arm, trying to feel out the trajectory of each shot, letting his Augmentation¡¯s Enhanced Precision steer his aim. Behind them, two pickup trucks swerved into view. Clara led the charge out of the car park as Andy fought to clear a path, then he ducked back inside just in time. They collided with a group of zombies at the exit, crunching their bodies on impact.


    Clara breaked, and Andy was flung forward into the footwell. Derelict cars dotted the roadside on the outskirts of the industrial district, making it difficult for Clara to pick up any speed. But slower now, Andy¡¯s accuracy was on fire. Leaning back out of the window, his rifle bucked like a mule as he fired it one handed. A grassy verge ran the length of the road leading out of the district. Zombies sprinted across the open fields, leaping over the verge and atop the derelict cars, to get at their jeep. He blasted them with precision-augmented shots, not always killing them, but at least knocking them off their trajectory. It was the most fun he¡¯d had in weeks.


    Ahead, a compact horde of undead were gathered on the road. They turned and began to run towards their jeep.


    ¡°Must have been chasing the Trojan,¡± Clara said. ¡°Brace yourself.¡± She throttled the engine, smashing straight into the tide. Andy grabbed the chair in front of him as he was flung around. The zombies flattened like dry reeds, bursting with plumes of yellowish dust, which stained the windows as though they were driving through a cloud. Suddenly, it was hard to tell how fast they were going, or what they were driving towards. A zombie¡¯s torso smashed into the windscreen, its legs churning under the jeep¡¯s wheels. The corpse pressed its face to the glass, blocking their view even more.


    Clara drew her pistol and shot the undead in the head, smashing the glass. As it toppled off the bonnet, she turned on the water-powered wipers, clearing the view. Thankfully, once they regained vision, they were still heading in a straight line.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Clara shouted, patting the dashboard. ¡°Go on girl.¡±


    ¡°Nice driving,¡± Andy said, replacing his rifle¡¯s magazine with a fresh one.


    At a crossroads, Clara turned right away from the city and gathered speed. The roads near the coast were clear of traffic, so they had no trouble evading the roadside zombies. Andy turned around in his seat, keen to see what the size of the horde was following them. Unfortunately, the glare from the two pickup trucks on their tail stopped him from seeing very far.


    Grabbing their rations bag out of the boot, Andy climbed over the handbrake into the front passenger seat. ¡°Where we headed?¡±


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Clara took a deep breath. ¡°Not sure, I¡¯m kind of making it up as we go.¡± She checked her wrist terminal, keeping one eye on the road. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go back through the city, not while it¡¯s dark. I¡¯ve got my terminal searching for distress signals. Hopefully, when the scientists evacuated the facility, they headed east too. Hopefully, we¡¯ll find them.¡±


    ¡°Then what?¡±


    ¡°Then we rescue them. Or if they¡¯re dead, find the technology which they took with them¡­ it¡¯s in that metal brief case Linton was holding in the video feed.¡±


    ¡°Lin-what?¡±


    ¡°Never mind.¡±


    ¡°Okay, quick question,¡± Andy said. ¡°Because this has come up before, and I just need a straight answer.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Which is more important, the payload or the scientist?¡±


    Clara scowled.


    ¡°It¡¯s a valid question. If I had to choose between rescuing the briefcase or the man, then which one?¡±


    His sister shook her head and returned her attention to the road.


    ¡°Remember the vineyard?¡± Andy said. ¡°Remember that shitshow, with the killer bees and the bottle of vintage red, and that Mr Mooney guy?¡±


    ¡°Mr Maney,¡± Clara corrected. ¡°Yeah, I remember.¡±


    ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°If you could only save one, then save scientists.¡±


    ¡°Okay, noted.¡± Andy munched on a ration bar and reclined his seat, watching the sun disappear outside. ¡°Hey, do you think I did the right thing?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Shooting zombie-Daniel like that.¡±


    Clara paused. ¡°What¡¯s the punchline?¡±


    ¡°There isn¡¯t one. I¡¯m being deadly serious.¡± Andy sat upright and took a swig from his hipflask to wash the rations down. ¡°Do you think it would have been funnier to let him bite the other merc instead?¡±


    Clara¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. Andy could tell she was fighting not to give him a reaction.


    ¡°Sis, I¡¯m torn. I¡¯m having a moral dilemma.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not funny Andy.¡±


    ¡°Oh lighten up. Bloody amateurs. Who carries an infected dude around like that?¡±


    ¡°It probably wasn¡¯t easy for him.¡± Clara said. ¡°Would you shoot me?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s different.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    Andy tried to answer, but he couldn¡¯t make sense of it. Because Clara was Clara. It was just different.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯d blow your brains out,¡± he said. There was a short silence between them, where Andy wondered if he¡¯d gone too far.


    ¡°I¡¯ll blow your brains out if you don¡¯t shut the fuck up,¡± Clara said.


    Andy grinned and lay back, taking another swig. It was his job to keep morale up and stop Clara overthinking things. By the look of the smirk on her face, he reckoned it was mission accomplished.


    ¡°So,¡± Clara said. ¡°How does this new ability of yours work?¡±


    Andy groaned. ¡°I point Julie and shoot, it¡¯s just a feeling.¡±


    ¡°No but, what¡¯s the science behind it?¡±


    ¡°Passion.¡±


    Clara raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll ask. Hey AI,¡± Andy tapped his skull. ¡°What¡¯s going on in there?¡±


    What proceeded was two hours of his life Andy would never get back, wherein he relayed Clara¡¯s questions to the voices in his head. The robot described specifics on how to use the Vortex Shot, as it was called, what scenarios it would be useful in, how to train the ability to get stronger¡­ Somehow, it managed to make the moment of ecstasy which he and Julie had shared sound bland and boring.


    ¡°So, the gist of it is that you have these extra bits in your bloodstream which unaugmented people don¡¯t have,¡± Clara lectured. ¡°These extra bits can vibrate in a certain way to build up energy, which you can then channel through your familial weapon, the revolver.¡±


    ¡°Julie,¡± Andy corrected.


    ¡°Yeah, whatever, and the energy you¡¯ve gathered synthesises with the mechanics of the firearm and the chemical reaction of the gunpowder explosion itself to transform into something¡­ well, I don¡¯t know¡­ Something amazing.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Andy said, hardly listening as he tried to make out the letters on an old number plate. Did it really spell BUTTS? No¡­ surely not. ¡°Couldn¡¯t have put it better myself. Magic.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not magic. It¡¯s science.¡±


    ¡°Keep telling yourself that.¡±


    Clara chewed her lip. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    Andy rolled his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re pushing it.¡±


    ¡°Oh come on, you never talk about this stuff.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s cause it¡¯s boring.¡±


    ¡°Andy-¡± Clara¡¯s wrist terminal beeped, cutting her off. ¡°Got something. Here, take the wheel.¡±


    Andy leant over as she checked her terminal.


    ¡°A distress signal about thirty minutes out. I¡¯ll radio the Hogs.¡±


    Once Clara was done relaying the coordinates, Andy refilled his assault rifle¡¯s magazines from a stockpile of rounds in the boot and rearmed his grenades. He brushed the grey dusty remains of exploded zombies off his leather jacket with a rag and cleaned his face with a bottle of water. As they closed on the distress signal, they spotted a horde in their jeep¡¯s beams and slowed to a stop on the roadside. Large isolated buildings rose out of overgrown fields, which surrounded the wide road. A row of trees hung over the pavement, where a pile of leaves and mulch had built up in the drains. One of the pickup trucks rolled up beside them, and the driver rolled his window down.


    ¡°You seeing that signal?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the man replied. Andy didn¡¯t recognise him.


    ¡°It¡¯s coming from in there, where that horde is gathered.¡±


    The mercs in the truck spoke to one another, then the driver turned back. ¡°The scientists?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Clara said. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°Worth a try,¡± the merc said. ¡°Lot of zombies though.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a plan,¡± Clara said. ¡°One of your vehicles should draw the horde away. We¡¯ll go in afterwards and rescue any survivors. Hopefully, these are our guys, or at least the payload might be in there.¡±


    ¡°What does the payload look like?¡± a man asked from the other vehicle.


    ¡°A metal briefcase. We saw it in the video feed earlier.¡±


    ¡°Any information on the building?¡±


    ¡°My terminal says it¡¯s a leisure building,¡± Clara said, holding her wrist up. ¡°I¡¯ve got pre-cat maps on here. But it could be anything, a swimming pool, a cinema. We won¡¯t know until we get there.¡±


    ¡°Alright then,¡± the merc replied. ¡°I¡¯ll draw them out. You get in afterwards. Abigail and Sax are going in with you. Rendezvous on the motorway north of here. Keep on the radio.¡±


    ¡°Affirmative.¡±


    ¡°Ask him if they have any booze,¡± Andy said.


    Clara ignored him, so Andy leaned over and asked himself.


    The man in the truck handed Andy a hip flask. ¡°A little Dutch courage, eh?¡±


    Andy took a swig of the sweet liquor, warming his guts and tingling his cheeks.


    ¡°Cheers mate.¡± Andy said, passing it back.


    ¡°It was Robert, right?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± the merc said. ¡°And¡­¡±


    ¡°Clara. Good luck.¡±


    The merc winked, swigged his flask and rolled the window up, then drove off ahead of them.


    A minute later, gunshots echoed down the road as the truck drew the horde¡¯s attention. Its brake lights were soon blocked from view by the mass of pursuers. After a short time, Clara followed behind the horde, with the second pickup truck in tow. By the time they reached the building¡¯s car park where the distress signal was coming from, only a handful of zombies remained.


    Andy turned his headlamp on, but before he could even get his door open, the spear-wielding merc had jumped out of the back of her truck and was darting from one target to the next, stabbing and spinning her spear in a dreadful arc, decapitating and shattering the skulls. Andy climbed out of the jeep after her, but there was very little left to shoot. Following the woman inside, Andy scanned the room for movement. They were in a colourfully painted reception area. Along one wall, shelves bore pairs of tiny shoes and coats, hung on hangers.


    Above the reception desk, a sign read: ¡®Massive Fun¡¯. Beside it stood a cartoon cutout of a grinning humanoid cat. The cat held out a claw at about Andy¡¯s chest height. A speech bubble read: ¡®You must be this tawl to prowl¡¯.


    Andy glared at the cartoon cutout for a while longer, just to make sure it wasn¡¯t moving. He¡¯d heard stranger things happen in apocalypse zones around the world.


    ¡°I think you¡¯ll just about make it in,¡± Andy said, nodding at the sign. The massive lady did not react. She just stared at him, gripping her spear, eyes wide and alert.


    ¡°Never mind,¡± he added.


    Clara and the scrawny merc came in behind them, shutting the door to the outside, making sure it hadn¡¯t locked. ¡°Massive fun?¡± Clara asked, reading the sign.


    ¡°I dunno,¡± Andy said. ¡°Let¡¯s find out.¡±


    A door at the back of the lobby was hanging off its hinges. An uncomfortable, shifting sound came from the room beyond, like sand rolling down a bank, skin rubbing against skin, occasionally broken by a clatter. Andy took point, prying the door open with the muzzle of his rifle. A path of white paw prints lily-padded through banks of foam matts, delving into the warehouse. Netting tied to foam-padded poles divided the large space into pens. A blue slide wound like a spring from the ceiling to the floor. Its base was obscured by a maze of padded crawl spaces. In another section, a wide red slide dove into a pit of multicoloured balls. The room had a unique plasticy scent to it which Andy hadn¡¯t smelled since his childhood, yet, with a twist.


    Hundreds of desiccated, decaying bodies clung to the netting, lost in the padded mazes. They seemed focussed on something just beyond the ballpit. A horde congregated around a row of slides painted like a rainbow. The slides dipped and flattened at intervals. The red slide only dipped twice along its length while the purple one had bumps all the way down. At the centre of the rainbow on the green slide, a man dressed in a laboratory coat clung to the edges for his life. Zombies scaled the slides to get at the man, but the surface was too slippery. They slipped and smashed their chins, falling down one at a time. Above the scientist, more zombies had figured out the maze of nets and foam barricades to arrive at the top of the slide and throw themselves down. They barrelled past the man like boulders. One tiny zombie, the size of a child, fell upon the man, flailing and snapping its jaws, but he ducked just in time for it to bowl into the horde at the bottom.


    Every undead in the room was focussed on the man in the lab coat, until Andy¡¯s headlamp fell upon the nearby group, and they turned in unison, milky dead eyes pits of starvation.


    ¡°Cover the exit,¡± Andy said. ¡°I¡¯ll rescue the chump.¡±

 Chapter 14 - Massive Fun

    Andy ran forward towards the ballpit¡¯s entrance. Behind him, Clara opened fire, pelting the horde with small-arms fire. More zombies¡¯ heads snapped around at the sound, crooked teeth bared in lipless snarls. Andy tasted the metallic rush of his Augmentation¡¯s synthetic hormones kicking in. There was a spring in his step as he darted sideways and climbed a set of foam padded stairs. Drawing his 9mm sidearm, he fired sidelong at any zombie which peeled away from the main group. His Evasive Fire skill guided his aim like a soft finger on the muzzle of the gun, as the AI implant calculated trajectories with inhuman speed and precision. Their skulls exploded in puffs of white powder¨Cthe contrast of brightness from his headlamp against the black of the warehouse made them look like eruptions of snow.


    Ascending the stairs, Andy glanced around the maze of netting and foam pads, trying to get his bearings. The scientist had begun shouting over the gunfire. ¡°I¡¯m here.¡± ¡°Help me.¡± ¡°Please god.¡± Etcetera. It did make him a little easier to locate. Andy chose a direction and set off. Ahead, the floor dipped into a long ball pit, inside which several smaller zombies lingered, unable to climb out. They had waded towards the edge while Andy lingered, arms extended like children asking for their mummy to pick them up. Above the ball pit were three thick rope swings. Andy ran and jumped onto the first, stick-thin fingers brushed his boots as he sailed through the air and grabbed the second rope. He transferred his momentum, swinging over the pit. He whooped with delight, feeling like a superhero. At the opposite side, a zombie lunged for him but fell face first into the ball pit. Andy laughed and grabbed the third rope, letting go of the second, flying through the air as deftly as a bat.


    He landed on his feet, pointing his pistol ahead of him. Nothing approached yet, but behind him, a group of undead had triumphed the stairs and were pouring into the ball pit. They waded on top of one another to get to the other side. Andy wanted another go. It¡¯d be more fun with more zombies in the pit, definitely more difficult.


    ¡°Please god,¡± the scientist screamed. ¡°I can¡¯t hold on.¡±


    ¡°Ugh.¡± Andy turned his back on the pit, ducking as the ceiling lowered, trying to navigate towards the multicoloured slides where the man was trapped. Thick foam bollards blocked his way, obscuring his view. Squeezing between them, Andy was crushed by the rotation and spat out the other side. His torso wanted to go left but one of his boots got wrapped around a post heading right. The maze was built for kids, not a gangly man in steel toe capped boots. Andy squinted as his headlamp reflected off the colourful leather of the foam padding with disorientating brightness. He turned the light down and fell forward between the padded cylinders like a freight train forced through a car wash.


    Finally, as he landed on the other side of the maze, a child zombie leered above him. Andy rolled onto his feet and aimed his pistol, before knelt before him was his own reflection, distorted to look fat at his hips and bulbous at his head. He looked around, dizzied by a dozen funny-mirrors. The faces of zombies appeared and vanished in the dim light. He could hear their footsteps on the padded foam, and the occasional slap as one ran into a mirror, but couldn¡¯t find his bearings. Drawing his pistol close to his chest, Andy stuck his other hand out, navigating the mirrors by touch. He needed to find the exit, fast.


    Attention: Inebriation Inhibitor module operative.


    That¡¯s right, this was nothing he hadn¡¯t seen before while hammered. Andy unfocussed his gaze and relaxed, taking a swig from his hipflask to get in the mood of roleplaying being drunk. Shifting shapes pulsated and grew in the dark, but then the gleam in one of their eyes caught his attention. Andy fired before his analytical mind could get in the way and burst its skull. He wobbled forward, bashing into mirrors and bouncing off them, slaying zombies in his way, spraying the mirrors with chalky white detritus.


    His magazine ran dry as he reached the end of the maze, but one final zombie charged towards him¨Ca small thing about hip height. Scraggly blonde hair still clung to the stretched flesh on its skull. It wore a faded purple t-shirt with the picture of a rainbow donkey giving a thumbs up.


    Andy booted the zombie like a football. It flew through the air, hissing shrill with rage, landing with a thud and crunch. Andy reloaded his pistol and followed it around the corner to find he had arrived at the multicoloured slides. Below, the man dressed in a lab coat was still clinging for his life. There were less zombies at the bottom of the slide now. Many had been drawn away by the gunfire, but many still remained, penned inside the netting, unable to leave even if they wanted to. They jumped and groped for the man¡¯s legs like stray dogs baying for food. Andy glanced towards the warehouse¡¯s exit, where two white flashlights floated in the red glow of a flare, punctuated by muzzle flashes. Andy spotted the outline of the Augmented woman dancing ahead of the flashlights, her speer¡¯s sheen glimmering in the dim light, cutting zombies to shreds.


    ¡°Help me, please.¡±


    Andy returned his attention to the scientist on the slide. ¡°You¡¯re from the facility then?¡±


    ¡°Please, throw something down.¡±


    ¡°Do you have the tech?¡±


    The man¡¯s face twisted with confusion. His eyes went wide as they stared into Andy¡¯s. His short black hair clung to his scalp with sweat. The glasses he wore had been cracked in one lens clung precariously to his head.


    ¡°Why are you here? You got what you wanted already.¡±


    ¡°I want the payload,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°You have it!¡±


    The man slipped and fell down one rung in the slide. Zombies clamoured beneath him with renewed fervour, leaping up to grab his feet. One snatched his shoe, but he wriggled his foot loose. It gave Andy an idea.


    ¡°Take off your shoes and socks,¡± he said.


    The scientist just looked at him with incredulity.


    ¡°For grip,¡± he added, checking the maze of mirrors behind him for anything approaching. The obstacle course seemed to have slowed the zombies pursuing him.


    The scientist kicked off his shoes and socks, then tried to climb back up the slide. To his right, zombies charged up the purple slide, which had the most divots and was easiest to climb, falling sidelong across the rainbow to swipe at him. Andy took a couple shots at the climbing zombies, sending them tumbling down, but he wanted to avoid making too much noise until they were on the move again.


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± the man panted. ¡°Please, I¡¯m too weak. Lower a rope down.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no rope,¡± Andy said. ¡°Climb.¡±


    ¡°Please.¡± His grip loosened on the slide¡¯s edge, and his face rested on the green plastic. ¡°Shoot me.¡±


    Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°Okay, but, do you know where the payload is?¡±


    ¡°One of yours took it already.¡±


    ¡°One of who?¡±


    ¡°The goths.¡± The man slipped down the slide with a squeak. ¡°Please, have some compassion. Don¡¯t let me die like this.¡±


    Clearly, the scientist knew something else, but there wasn¡¯t much time to hash things out. Removing his leather jacket, Andy held one end of the sleeve and knelt down, dropping the other end down the slide. The scientist hauled himself up and grabbed the other sleeve. Andy braced against a railing and heaved, but lifting weights had never been his strong suit.


    ¡°Climb,¡± Andy said. ¡°You¡¯re too heavy.¡±


    Something moved in the corner of his vision. Andy¡¯s Killer Instinct triggered, but he hesitated¨Cto draw his weapon, he¡¯d either have to let go of the jacket or the railing, and he really loved that jacket... Already, he was too late. The child zombie which he had kicked was back for vengeance. The zombie collided with him, spinning him around, sending him tumbling down the slide. Below him, a pool of flesh lapped like waves against the slide, desperate to swallow him whole. Without his jacket on, a bite or a scratch could infect him in seconds.


    Andy slid down on his back, grabbing the railings and drew Julie. As soon as he held her smooth polished wood handle, power swelled through him. He pulled the trigger and detonated the nearest zombie¡¯s chest, but there was no miraculous Vortex power, no passionate release of energy.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he said, skidding downwards inexorably. He guessed he should have been listening in the jeep. Something wasn¡¯t working, this position wasn¡¯t right. Rolling backwards, he put his feet beneath him and crashed into the horde.


    With his feet planted, he fired from the hip. The energy ignited in his toes, rushing through his feet and legs, engorging his thighs, pumping through his chest, setting off fireworks in his skull. Julie exploded. The Vortex Shot reduced the bodies clamouring on top of him to ruin, sending a shockwave of zombies flying. Andy pushed his back up the slide and fired again, bursting zombies to smithereens, clearing a path. Everything was dead, or lay at his feet, including the scientist, who huddled whimpering at his heels.


    Andy grabbed his leather jacket and threw it on, shooting three more zombies which tried to get up while he dressed. He seized the scientist by his collar and pulled him up, then raced towards an exit. The scientist followed behind as they climbed into a foam padded crawl space. Andy navigated the maze upwards, twisting and turning, climbing to get away from the horde. Those which had been on the periphery of the Vortex Shot recovered and raved after him, but struggled to comprehend the maze. They flung themselves at the netting on either side of them, reaching through, snarling and trying to tear the rope with their rotten teeth.


    Andy kept climbing, pausing to reload Julie as the scientist caught up. At the top of the maze was a balcony surrounding a large ball pit, like a children¡¯s dream version of a hotel plaza. On the opposite side of the balcony was a vertical red slide and a corkscrew blue slide. Each ran into the ball pit at the centre. Andy checked their surroundings, there were no immediate threats. Gunshots still thudded from where Clara held the exit, but they were less frequent now. That was a good sign.


    Andy turned on the scientist. ¡°Are you bitten?¡±


    ¡°No. Not bitten. No, look.¡± He rolled up his sleeves and showed his neck. His hands shook and he smelled pretty abhorrent.


    ¡°Right, we¡¯re leaving then,¡± Andy said, spotting the red flare at the exit. ¡°Which way¡¯s out?¡±


    Suddenly, the gunshots from Clara rang out in rapid fire. Andy¡¯s radio squawked awake.


    ¡°They¡¯re coming from outside,¡± Clara said. ¡°We¡¯re falling back to a trampoline zone.¡±


    ¡°Okay, hold on,¡± Andy said. ¡°I¡¯ll be one sec.¡± He unslung his assault rifle and searched for a way down. It seemed like they¡¯d dealt with most of the zombies in the play area, but shadows cast by the red flare near the exit depicted a steady stream of undead coming in from outside. It seemed like there was an exit on the other end of the ballpit, but it would probably be quicker for him to just cut the rope nets in a straight line towards Clara.


    ¡°Wait,¡± the scientist said as Andy cut the ropes. ¡°My colleague is still here somewhere. Riddhi! Come out. People are here to rescue us."


    A face popped out of the ball pit below. A dark skinned woman looked up at them with beady eyes. ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± she squeaked.


    ¡°Does she have the payload?¡± Andy asked.


    The scientist opened his mouth, but couldn¡¯t meet Andy¡¯s eyes. ¡°She¡¯s essential to the mission.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, I¡¯m sure she is.¡±


    The woman below screeched as Zombies invaded the ball pit, falling over the sides, wading towards her at the centre. She ducked back beneath the balls to hide.


    Nearby was the blue corkscrew slide. Figuring it was the quickest way to the ballpit, Andy jumped in and skidded down. It was a tight squeeze, but he picked up speed towards the bottom, shooting out the other end into a pool of multicoloured balls. He flopped around as the balls displaced, kneeling in the pit. Aiming with Enhanced Precision, he fired at the invading zombies. Killing them was child¡¯s play. He blew their brains out, flinging their bodies back to sink beneath the colourful balls.


    Andy rose and waded towards the centre of the pit. ¡°Lady, come on out.¡±


    The first man he¡¯d saved came shooting out of the blue slide behind him. ¡°Riddhi, it¡¯s safe to come out.¡± Suddenly, Andy¡¯s foot kicked something solid underneath the balls. He flinched and aimed his assault rifle at it. A small face appeared beneath the balls, glaring up the barrel of his rifle. It squeaked.


    ¡°Payload?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Riddhi,¡± the male scientist beckoned, stumbling over and practically falling on her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the pit. ¡°We¡¯re leaving now. We¡¯re going with these people.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± the woman asked.


    ¡°Andy.¡±


    ¡°Who do you work for?¡±


    He looked at her blankly. No one. That was a stupid question.


    ¡°Which way now, sir?¡± the male scientist asked.


    Andy nodded towards the exit. Another stupid question.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have any weapons,¡± the man said, eyeing Andy¡¯s sidearm.


    Andy picked a blue coloured ball out of the pit and passed it to him. ¡°Go wild.¡±


    Andy waded through the pit and climbed over the foam barrier. He was near the exit now. The red flare was glowing low, lighting the scene where Clara and the others had made a stand. The dead were piled up, their skulls blown to pieces. Limbs twitched in the heaps, incapacitated but not fully destroyed. Andy pointed at the male scientist¡¯s bare feet. ¡°Don¡¯t get bitten.¡±


    Combined, they had killed the majority of the horde, now only stragglers remained dotted around the warehouses¡¯ various playpens. They leaned against the netting, hissing at him, scrambling this way and that to find a path through. The real danger was coming from the entryway. Zombies roamed in, from the street, probably attracted by the sound of gunfire. There could be hundreds out there, more than the bullets they had.


    Beside the entryway was a cafe area with an accessible roof. There was a crack of pistol fire from that side of the warehouse. Behind the cafe must be the trampoline park where Clara was. But before he relieved her, he had to make sure they weren¡¯t going to get surrounded.


    Unpinning three grenades at once, he slung them into the entrance doorway then darted behind a padded pillar. The explosion rang like thunder, reverberating around the steel walled warehouse, deep and bassy against all the foam padding. The entryway crumbed as the brickwork collapsed on the zombies coming through. He fired into the carnage, killing everything that still moved.


    ¡°Abigail is bitten,¡± Clara¡¯s voice crackled over the radio. ¡°I need backup. The trampoline park is-¡± She was cut off by the sound of gunfire.


    Andy¡¯s heart raced. He flew into action.

 Chapter 15 - Infection

    Clara bound over the grid of trampolines away from the melee. Two trampolines away, Abigail climbed out of the pit where she¡¯d fallen. Inside, chunks of multicoloured foam obscured a dozen child zombies, too small to ever climb out. One still clung to Abigail¡¯s massive legs, only the size of a human baby. Abigail kicked it off like a bucking horse, sending it cascading over the pit with a hiss. Then she laid flat on the trampoline, panting. Despite her Augmentation, the fighting had taken its toll.


    Sax stood guard over her, shortsword in hand. Around them lay the bodies of the dead. Minutes earlier, zombies had streamed into the warehouse from outside, forcing them to retreat up the stairs to a cafe area and down the other side into a trampoline park. Many more zombies had been trapped inside the cafe room above, and when one of Clara¡¯s stray rounds had shattered the window, they came pouring out over the trampolines, bounding like locusts towards their prey.


    Abigail had fought bravely with Sax at her side, who dipped in and out to cut the stragglers down. The Grizzlies tribe specialised in melee combat, deft in tight spaces while Clara struggled to hit accurate shots in the dark. It seemed like they¡¯d won, when with one misstep, Abigail had fallen backwards into a pit of foam and lurking zombies.


    Now, she lay on her back clutching her chest. The veins in her hands bulged an ugly purple. Her spear lay at her side. She¡¯d been bitten, so she was doomed. But maybe being Augmented gave her extra defences against this infection? It was impossible to know. Every apocalypse was different, and humanity¡¯s knowledge of Augmentation technology was limited. Perhaps she could fight the infection for a little longer, perhaps even overcome it?


    A zombie loped towards Sax, who knelt over Abigail, frantically gutting a first aid kit. Clara braced her legs on the unstable trampoline and fired her submachine gun at the zombie. After a burst of shots, her target staggered backwards and went down. Clara¡¯s weapon clicked dry. She slung the submachine gun over her shoulder and drew her sidearm¨Ca basic .45 calibre pistol.


    Suddenly, an explosion detonated from behind the cafe, near the entryway. It must have been Andy. He must be nearby. Clara unhooked her radio and clicked it to transmit. ¡°Abigail is bitten. I need backup. The trampoline park is-¡±


    Clara ducked on instinct as something collided with her side. She rolled upright and fired at the attacker. Before she knew it, her pistol magazine was empty. Clara cursed, she¡¯d panicked and spammed the trigger. Reloading quickly, she breathed heavily, trying to snuff the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Clara scanned the trampoline park in the glow of her headlamp. It was too dark, too easy for something to sneak up on her.


    Sax screamed. Abigail was on her knees, clutching his skull in one massive hand. She pulled his arm with the other, tearing the joints and ligaments in his neck and shoulders until his scream was cut off with a snap. She kept pulling, kept tearing his body until she ripped his head free of his shoulders with a spray of blood. The huge woman dug her face into the cavity, gorging herself on his flesh.


    What a way to go out. Clara¡¯s stomach turned and she fought not to vomit, raising her pistol. She fired at Abigail, trying to pick her shots, but it was like shooting the dirt¨Cthere was no reaction, no sign that she¡¯d done any damage.


    Abigail dropped Sax¡¯s corpse and rose to meet Clara¡¯s gaze. The zombie hulk launched itself towards Clara, bounding over the trampolines. Frantically, Clara aimed for the head, but she couldn¡¯t draw a bead. Remembering Andy¡¯s advice, switched to the legs, emptying her magazine at the raging bull.


    Zombie Abigail barrelled into her. Clara jumped, but a massive arm struck her in the chest. Clara tumbled over the trampolines, skidding to a halt above a foam pit. Beneath her, children zombies swarmed for her flesh like piranhas in a tank. One grabbed her ponytail. Clara screamed, but then a muscular hand clutched her by the ankle and dragged her away.


    Abigail¡¯s twisted face loomed above her, mouth agape, soaked in blood. Clara was trapped beneath her, clutching for a dagger. She stabbed Abigail in the heart, unable to reach her face. It had no effect. Abigail¡¯s eyes were glazed over, but pin-point pupils looked down at Clara from murky depths. There was still something going on in her mind¨Cstill a scrap of humanity behind those eyes, bathed in carnal desire.


    Abigail¡¯s head snapped to the side with a crack. Three more rounds struck her in the shoulder and chest, lifting her off Clara with enough force that she could make an escape. Climbing out from under the corpse, she spotted Andy atop the cafe¡¯s balcony aiming down the barrel of his rifle. There were two others with him, each dressed in lab coats.


    ¡°Fire exit,¡± Andy shouted, pointing at the far wall. Clara reloaded her pistol with her final magazine while she waited for him to catch up. Together, they made a run for it. The four of them bounded across trampolines until they got to the edge. Her ribs ached but nothing felt broken. Hopping off the trampolines, Andy barged through the fire exit into the cold night air.


    Outside, zombies meandered towards the buildings¡¯ entrance, drawn by the sound of the explosion, but without a clue of what route to take. Andy ran forward, clearing a path towards their jeep. Clara slid inside the vehicle and started the engine¨Cshe¡¯d left the keys in the ignition for a quick getaway. She kicked on the gas and they sped out of the car park with a growl.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Andy said behind her. His eyes were wild, she rarely saw him look so afraid.


    ¡°I¡¯m good.¡±


    ¡°Not bitten?¡±


    Clara shook her head, quickly checking her hands and arms. ¡°I¡¯m good, you?¡±


    Andy relaxed back into the middle seat between the two scientists. ¡°Peachy,¡± he winked.


    ¡°You two?¡± Clara turned around in her seat. ¡°Are you bitten?¡±


    Each of them shook their heads, eyes wide, seeming to understand the implication. The woman rolled up the sleeves of her lab coat, presenting her hands.


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    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°Just scratched.¡±


    ¡°Are there anymore?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not bitten.¡±


    ¡°No, I mean people. Anyone else out here?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the man said, eyes fixed on the road. ¡°Drive.¡±


    Clara had a dozen more questions, but figured the scientists needed a little more time to recover. The woman held her head in her hands, softly sobbing, while the man watched out of the window. He had a shocked expression on his face, terror subdued by exhaustion. Clara breathed deep and focussed on her driving. The road ahead quietened, and in the dark, she replayed what had just happened in her mind. Sax was dead. Abigail had been bitten. Andy had killed her. She ran through a checklist, organising things until she felt a semblance of control. Had the scientists been bitten? Probably not¨Cshe could trust that Andy would have shot them immediately if they had. How was their ammunition? Andy was already replenishing his rounds from their cache in the boot. She wondered how he kept so calm in situations like this. It wasn¡¯t just his Augmentation either, he¡¯d been like it since the beginning of the cataclysm, even before he¡¯d injected the serum. Clara took a deep breath and wound her window down, but the glass creaked where it was held together by duct tape since their encounter with the carnivorous plants.


    Miles away from Marsay city, the roads grew quiet. The night was peaceful, but gunshots and explosions still echoed in Clara¡¯s mind. She felt like she couldn¡¯t quite relax yet; all it took was the smallest mistake, and you might fall into a pit and get bitten. Clara shivered and took a sip of water.


    ¡°Could I¡­¡± The woman in the back started, but seemed unsure of herself. ¡°Please, I¡¯m very thirsty.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Clara handed the bottle. ¡°Share it around. There¡¯s plenty.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Her voice fell heavy with relief. The woman¡¯s silky black hair fell over her shoulders like a veil, thin and unruly. ¡°God bless you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s alright,¡± Clara said. ¡°I bet you¡¯re wondering who we are?¡±


    ¡°You must be angels,¡± she said, rubbing a golden bangle on her wrist.


    ¡°Mercenaries, actually. You worked for Old Blue Eyes, yeah?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°We were in your research facility this afternoon looking for you two. We¡¯re the reinforcements. It¡¯s our mission to rescue you and the tech you¡¯ve been working on. My name¡¯s Clara. That¡¯s Andy.¡±


    ¡°Riddhi,¡± she said. Finishing the water, she handed it to her colleague. ¡°Do you have a hair band I could borrow please, Clara?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± Clara fished one out of her pocket.


    The woman combed her black matted hair through her fingers, tying it behind her head. ¡°We were overwhelmed at the laboratory. We had to evacuate. We tried to send Old Blue Eyes a transmission, but we don¡¯t know if it worked. Then power to the whole building went out. What else could we do?¡±


    ¡°Evil forces,¡± the man said.


    Clara inspected him. ¡°It¡¯s Linton, right?¡±


    His head picked up. ¡°That¡¯s right. Who¡¯s asking?¡±


    ¡°We work for Blue Eyes too. Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    Linton glanced at Andy wearily, who was slotting bullets into his rifle¡¯s magazines, ignoring their conversation.


    ¡°So, the technology,¡± Clara said. ¡°We were tasked to rescue you, and whatever else we could salvage.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯s gone,¡± Linton said.


    ¡°Are we talking about the briefcase?¡± Clara asked. ¡°I saw your final transmission when we got the power back on. You said something about a prototype, yeah?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s classified,¡± Linton said. ¡°You are correct about the briefcase. My research is housed within a reinforced vacuum chamber, fitted with an explosive failsafe. If anyone tries to break in¡­¡± Linton made a mute explosion sound with his hands.


    ¡°Where is it now?¡± Clara said.


    Linton clenched his jaw and lowered his gaze, glowering into the footwell.


    ¡°It was stolen,¡± Riddhi said. ¡°A gang of cultists. They were riding motorbikes, they had weapons. I foolishly thought they had come to help.¡±


    ¡°I had assumed that they were just eccentrics,¡± Linton said through gritted teeth. ¡°Goths.¡±


    ¡°When we asked for their help, they talked about devil worship.¡± Riddhi shivered and shrank back in her seat. ¡°They stole it and shot Derek in the head.¡±


    ¡°Execution,¡± Linton said.


    ¡°No reason for it,¡± Riddhi said. ¡°We had surrendered to them.¡±


    ¡°Scum,¡± Linton said.


    Clara shared a glance with Andy in the mirror. He raised his eyebrows in mock shock towards Linton¡¯s vitriol.


    ¡°Any idea where they took the briefcase?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Linton fished in the deep buttoned pocket of his lab coat and withdrew a small radio-like device. ¡°The briefcase has a tracker installed.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Clara said. ¡°Which way is it pointing?¡±


    Linton inspected the panel. ¡°East. So, you are pursuing them?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct. How accurate is the tracker?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be able to provide a more reliable reading once we¡¯re closer to it.¡±


    ¡°But we¡¯re heading in the right direction,¡± Clara said, trying on a positive tone. ¡°Alright, we can still salvage this.¡±


    Linton sat back, holding the tracking device to his chest. ¡°Those goth degenerates won¡¯t be able to get inside without the key. Not even with heavy tools. There¡¯s a failsafe, should they try, which will detonate the contents should the inner casing become breached.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re on the clock to retrieve it, before they start chiselling away?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°That¡¯s correct.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s inside?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already told you,¡± Linton said. ¡°That¡¯s classified.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Andy said. ¡°Is it a bomb?¡±


    Linton scowled. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t want it going off in my hands while I¡¯m running around with it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a bomb.¡±


    ¡°Might it explode? Hmm?¡± Andy said, mimicking the scientist''s accent for some reason.


    ¡°No¡­¡± he stammered. ¡°Not unless you try to break into it.¡±


    ¡°So if I bang it on a wall, it¡¯s going to blow up?¡±


    ¡°No-¡±


    ¡°What is this, twenty questions?¡± Andy leaned over, boxing Linton in by grabbing the headrest in front and behind him. ¡°What¡¯s in the briefcase, specs?¡±


    ¡°Research,¡± Riddhi answered behind him. ¡°Just research.¡±


    ¡°Andy, chill it,¡± Clara said, but the intrigue got the better of her. ¡°Augmentation research?¡±


    Linton shut his jaw, refusing to look either of them in the eye.


    ¡°I can say this,¡± Riddhi replied. ¡°If you recover it, and bring us back to Blue Eyes alive, we will make sure you are rewarded spectacularly. Isn¡¯t that right, Linton?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll put in a good word,¡± Linton said. ¡°So long as you do your jobs properly.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Clara said. ¡°The research is that important?¡±


    Linton fixed Clara with a cold gaze. ¡°It will change the world.¡±

 Chapter 16 - Road Trip

    Clara¡¯s mind wandered over the lights of their jeep¡¯s headlights as Linton¡¯s words echoed in her mind. It will change the world.


    Clearing her throat, Clara quickly organised her thoughts. ¡°Any ideas where the thieves headed after they stole the briefcase?¡± Clara said. You said they were cultists?¡±


    ¡°East, like I said, maybe somewhere in the mountains. We didn¡¯t know there were any other humans in this area. We haven¡¯t had any contact.¡± Gazing out of the window, Linton lowered his voice. ¡°They must have been watching us.¡±


    ¡°They might not be entirely human.¡± Clara said, slowing their jeep to a crawl. ¡°Andy, take over.¡± She shifted over to the passenger seat and checked her maps while Andy climbed over to the wheel. One-hundred miles east of Marsay, a mountain range stretched from the sea to far inland. Her apocalypse zoning maps suggested that the zombie infestation had spread beyond the mountains, but that didn¡¯t omit the threat of anything else.


    It had been eight years since the cataclysm had divided the world into zones of apocalypses. Since then, some zones had expanded while others had diminished. There might be more than just undead roaming these lands. The two scientists had talked about demon worshipping cultists. Clara had nothing like that in her map¡¯s notes. Her and Andy had never travelled this far east before, and Clara¡¯s maps contained only disparate reports of what apocalypses lay beyond the mountains. She hated travelling into the unknown. It was like casting out into the ocean, unable to see what lurked beneath the waters.


    Clara studied her maps, planning a route until their fuel gauge hit halfway. She told Andy to pull over to fill up the tank¨CClara didn¡¯t like travelling on less than half, you never knew when you¡¯d need it. Retrieving the medical kit from the boot, Clara went over their escortees¡¯ wounds one at a time. Though they were bruised and battered, they were unbitten. She disinfected and redressed a week-old wound on Riddhi¡¯s arm which she¡¯d apparently sustained within the research facility itself.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Linton said. He was shining one of Clara¡¯s flashlights out of the window at the nearby treeline, flicking it this way and that into the shadows.


    It was the fourth time the scientist had alerted them to nothing, and Clara¡¯s reaction was much less enthusiastic than the first. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°There, in the dark.¡±


    ¡°A tree?¡±


    Linton huffed. ¡°Do you have a firearm I can requisition?¡±


    Clara paused. She hadn¡¯t considered it before, but could she trust Linton? He was paranoid and secretive. He might even be deranged after the trauma of it all. And besides, she didn¡¯t know him. He claimed to work for Blue Eyes, but that was the only thing they had in common. And besides all of that, her instincts were telling her something was off.


    ¡°Are you trained to use one?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°Am I trained? I¡¯ve used one. I¡¯ve had to. I know how. It¡¯s not rocket science. It¡¯s flick a switch and pull a trigger.¡±


    ¡°Linton.¡± Riddhi shared a look with her colleague. The wiry man¡¯s face relaxed a notch, and he returned his attention to the roadside.


    Clara took over the driving for a bit, following the route she¡¯d mapped. In the backseat, Linton continued to shine the flashlight on the night road. Clara had hoped that once they were driving again, he¡¯d put it away. But he was obsessed. ¡°Linton. Excuse me.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± He didn¡¯t take his eyes off the road.


    ¡°That¡¯s not necessary.¡±


    The older man muttered something which slid under the sound of their jeep¡¯s engine.


    ¡°You¡¯re wasting the battery, come on now.¡±


    ¡°You can recharge it in the morning.¡±


    Andy made a show of turning around in the passenger seat, glaring at Linton. The scientist returned his gaze for a moment, before his eyes shifted to the flashlight in his lap, then he turned it off and kept his head bowed.


    As their path took them around the outskirts of a coastal city, the roads grew more congested. Clara navigated the streets while their guests drifted to sleep beneath a blanket in the back. When morning came, the sun painted a highway of rusty, derelict vehicles in an auburn glaze. Clara yawned and checked her maps. They were close to the mountains now. Ahead was an old fuel station. Years ago, when Clara and Andy made their living as fuel jockeys, they¡¯d stop off at every station they could find in search of a well they could plumb. Whether or not there was anything to salvage at the station, Clara needed to stretch her legs and have a moment of privacy.


    Wrecked cars queued at the empty pumps, long since abandoned. Exiting the jeep, she eyed the ransacked station, its windows smashed and vandalised. One slogan spray-painted over the walls read: ¡®Avoid the shadows¡¯. Another read: ¡®Immigration to blame.¡¯ She took each with a pinch of salt.


    Linton roused awake while Riddhi slept on his shoulder.


    ¡°Do you want some more water?¡± Clara asked them.


    ¡°Yes please,¡± Linton said, shifting out beneath his partner, resting her head gently on the back seat. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back,¡± he said, shuffling behind the gas station out of sight for a few minutes.


    Clara passed him a bottle of water when he returned. ¡°Lost your shoes?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I had to leave them at the children¡¯s play park thing.¡±


    ¡°We can check the cars for some your size.¡±


    Clara led the scientist around the wreckages, peaking through the windows in search of booted skeletons.


    ¡°Tell me more about these cultists who stole the tech,¡± she said.


    ¡°They were dressed like goths,¡± Linton said. ¡°Do you remember goths? Oh, you might not, you¡¯re quite young. They wore black leather and all of them had long hair. Silver jewellery. Bats and pentagons and tattoos of the devil. Evil people. Horrible music.¡±


    ¡°A cult?¡±


    ¡°Yes. They ambushed us as we escaped the laboratory. Seemed to know we were coming. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they¡¯d directed the horde of zombies right at us. They were organised and well armed. Riddhi and I escaped, but as for the rest of us¡­¡±


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    ¡°Then they drove off east?¡± Clara asked. Linton had already told her as much, but she wanted to make sure he had his story straight.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Linton said. His eyes wandered as he seemed to wrestle with a thought. ¡°It might be better if you returned us to Quadra before we go on.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Clara faltered. The old scientist looked shattered, and more than that, afraid. She hated being the bearer of bad news. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s possible.¡±


    Linton¡¯s breathing quickened. ¡°Perhaps you can call for reinforcements and get them out here. Get some help. Blue Eyes would send a convoy if he knew what was at stake.¡±


    Clara withdrew the radio from her hip. ¡°Do you have anything with a stronger signal than this?¡±


    Linton paused, then held out his hand. ¡°Let me take a look at that.¡± He turned the radio over, tracing it with his fingers as though he might find an undiscovered amplification button on the back. ¡°Maybe one of you can go back with us, and the other go on to retrieve the briefcase?¡±


    Clara retrieved her radio. ¡°That¡¯s not happening.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re professionals,¡± Clara said, ¡°And we have a job¨Ckeep you alive and retrieve the payload. We won¡¯t put you in harm''s way. You¡¯re safe with us now. You¡¯re just going to have to trust me.¡±


    ¡°What if I return on my own?¡± Linton said, but his voice was deflated.


    ¡°You sure you want to wander the wasteland alone? Without shoes?¡±


    Linton didn¡¯t answer, he just sat down in the doorway of a car, gazing at the ground. ¡°Give me a minute, would you?¡±


    Returning to their jeep, Clara removed a camp stove from their jeep¡¯s boot and lit it up. Nothing lifted the spirits like a hot meal. She cracked half a dozen eggs into a fold-out pan, preparing flatbread and chutney while they fried. Once done, she put a kettle on the boil for coffee and portioned out the food into four mess tins. Andy woke to the smell of cooking eggs and wolfed his portion down. The two scientists took their food gratefully. Riddhi thanked her profusely, complimenting her cooking.


    ¡°It¡¯s just eggs and a little sauce,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°It¡¯s wonderful,¡± Riddhi insisted.


    Clara smiled, handing each of them a ration bar for dessert to go with their hot coffee. Clara nipped into the service station toilet, then found a nice deflated wheel to rest against and took in the morning rays, sipping her coffee. She breathed in the morning air and leaned forward, stretching her legs. She checked the time. They had been stopped for thirty minutes, they could afford to rest for ten more.


    They¡¯d survived another night, but it had come close. Working for Blue Eyes was no joke. Already, the mission was getting out of hand. But clearly, pushing Andy to new extremes had paid off¨Chis new Vortex ability was spectacular. And what¡¯s more, if they could retrieve the payload and return to Quadra with everyone alive, they¡¯d make a bomb. The price of the mission was already negotiated, but Clara was certain she could convince Blue Eyes of paying them a handsome bonus.


    Clara imagined buying a proper cabin somewhere behind the walls of Quadra where she could spend time reading and studying the maps on her terminal. Clara reckoned that, assuming Linton wasn¡¯t exaggerating the value of his research, she could trade the payload for all the data in the Visionaries¡¯ archives¡­ The secrets of the cataclysm at her fingertips.


    Andy whooped, stumbling out of the gas station swinging a bottle around. ¡°I can¡¯t believe no one checked the ceiling tiles,¡± he said, throwing the bottle in the air and catching it. ¡°Fifteen year old scotch. Apocalypse aged. Our luck¡¯s looking up sis.¡±


    He reached over to top-off her coffee, but Clara covered the flask with her hand. ¡°No thanks.¡±


    Andy waved the bottle at their escortees. ¡°Specs? Ballpit?¡±


    ¡°No thank you,¡± the head researcher said. ¡°My name is Linton, actually. And that¡¯s Riddhi.¡±


    Andy¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. He swigged the bottle and embellished in a loud ¡°Aghh¡±, smacking his lips. ¡°Good stuff.¡±


    Clara began packing down for departure, then a rhythmic sound caught her attention. It started off as just a thumping beat, but grew with a low riff.


    ¡°Did you fix the player?¡± she asked.


    Andy leaned out of the passenger seat, bottle in hand, looking at her blankly.


    ¡°One of you?¡± she asked the scientists. They were each dozing in the back seat.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Linton said.


    Clara paused to listen. ¡°Can you hear music?¡±


    Andy¡¯s expression suddenly turned serious. Clara dropped the stove in the boot and unloaded her high calibre rifle from a duffel bag. Fixing the scope, she checked the magazine and cocked a round into the chamber. Flicking the rifle¡¯s bipod onto the bonnet of their jeep, she aimed it down the motorway towards the sound of music. A repetitive thud punctuated shrill screaming and a droning bass. The frequencies dipped in and out, floundering over the distance, then a glint in the sunlight gave away the approaching vehicle. The sleek, black van sped down the motorway, recklessly weaving between obstacles.


    Andy advanced forward, using derelict cars for cover. Clara trained her sights on the driver¡¯s side of the front window, adjusting for distance and conditions.


    ¡°I have a shot,¡± she said over the radio. ¡°But we don¡¯t know if they¡¯re friendly.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask,¡± Andy said, walking out of cover and into the middle of the road.


    ¡°Andy, get back.¡±


    He waved his hand at her in dismissal.


    ¡°Do you recognise the van?¡± she asked the scientists. They shrugged. She ushered them up to the scope of her rifle for a closer look.


    ¡°My eyesight isn¡¯t the best,¡± Linton said. ¡°But the music sounds the same.¡±


    Clara pursed her lips sceptically and moved back behind her scope.


    ¡°It is them,¡± Linton said, though his voice wavered. ¡°Shoot them. Kill them. They¡¯re who took it.¡±


    ¡°Sit back down,¡± Clara said, not taking her eye off the road.


    ¡°Quickly, don¡¯t let them pass. They¡¯re dangerous, they can¡¯t see us.¡±


    ¡°Man,¡± Clara said, briefly forgetting the scientist¡¯s name in her anger. ¡°Shut up. Don¡¯t distract me.¡±


    Riddhi took the man by the arm and steered him away from Clara. She breathed through her frustration, refocusing her sights on the van. Andy was standing in the middle of the road, shoulders and hips squared against the oncoming van. He held the bottle of scotch in one hand, his other hung over his revolver, fingers splayed like the jaws of a cobra.


    The registration plate on the van had been removed, so Clara had to guess which side the driver¡¯s seat would be on. She shifted her crosshair to the right, assuming the vehicle was from the continent pre-cat.


    Something pinged off the road far to Clara¡¯s right. Moments later, the pop of gunfire sounded from the van. Two more pings and pops followed. Andy drew his revolver as Clara squeezed the trigger. They fired at the same time.


    The van¡¯s windshield shattered and the vehicle swerved, colliding with a barrier at the motorway¡¯s edge. It tipped onto its side with a piercing shriek and slid down the road until it crashed into the back of a derelict lorry and stopped.


    Andy blew the barrel of his revolver. ¡°What a shot,¡± he shouted.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Clara radioed.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re going to take credit?¡± he yelled down the road..


    ¡°Check the wreckage if you want, your shot hit the passenger side, mine slew the driver.¡±


    ¡°Slew?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Clara said. ¡°Slew.¡± She aimed down the scope, checking the crash site for any movement. The front of the van faced her, while the back was obscured from view, dented and lodged beneath the lorry¡¯s rear wheels.


    ¡°If you did kill him,¡± Andy radioed. ¡°It¡¯s cause I trained you well.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and your Augmentation trained you well too.¡±


    The radio feed crackled twice and went silent before Andy had a response. ¡°Rude.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Clara radioed. ¡°Did you turn your powers off for that shot to put us on even footing?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the one.¡±


    ¡°What a gentleman.¡±


    Andy sauntered down the motorway ahead of her towards the crashed van, spinning his revolver around his finger. ¡°Let¡¯s go say hi to our guests.¡±

 Chapter 17 - ?uic? Visions

    Andy trained his rifle¡¯s sights on the crashed van. Shards of glass crunched beneath his boots. The front wheel still spun on its axle while the engine hissed and ticked angrily. Three bodies lay crumpled behind the shattered windshield. None of them had been wearing a seatbelt, so they had fallen on top of one another when the van flipped on its side. A leg stuck out of the tangle, snapped at the shin, held together by the tight wrap of black skinny jeans. It poked over the dashboard like a grotesque gear stick. All of the bodies were shrouded in dark leather, Andy squinted into the shadow of the footwell, checking for movement.


    He heard something shift inside the van¡¯s rear, boarded off from the vehicle¡¯s front section. Andy skirted around the rear. A hideous demonic face stared back at him, slanted on its side, painted onto the double doors leading to the van¡¯s belly. The painting had a scrunched-up nose and pointy ears, a detached jaw engulfed the van¡¯s doors. Andy wondered who had done the paint job, and whether he could hire them to pimp up their own jeep.


    Andy could hear someone shuffling and talking inside. That could mean two survivors¨Cone to do the talking and one to listen. The space was large enough for easily twelve more seats inside. Potentially twelve more cultists. He glanced at Clara for a signal. She had rounded a derelict lorry beside the van and made a fist, flicking her thumb up, then spreading her fingers twice. Flashbang. With the van on its side, the seam between the doors was horizontal. Clara opened the top door a crack, and Andy threw the flashbang inside. It thudded, and Clara slung the bottom door open. Andy ducked inside, rifle at the ready.


    The scene flashed before his eyes like a familiar photograph, his AI Augmentation¡¯s Combat Conceptualisation module calculating the environment and analysing threats quicker than any human mind could comprehend. In an instant, he knew that he was not in any danger. The van was wide, which at this angle, made it tall. There were no fixed seats. A couch lay on its side, covered in debris¨Cfood wrappers, ash trays, CD cases, makeup kits and jewellery. It stunk of tobacco smoke and spilled alcohol. A mannequin dressed in a gimp suit was propped up rigidly against the couch. Three bodies littered the room. Two had died in the crash, while one was sitting against the tipped couch, black leather jacket hanging off his shoulder where the arm was exposed. His wrists were slit. Blood drained over his skinny jeans. In his other hand rested an ornate dagger.


    Andy bent to inspect the man. He was younger than Andy, but of a similar build. His collar bones poked out of his pale, flat chest, draped in cheap metal jewellery. His fingernails and eyelids were painted black. His hair was black. His boots, yep, black. The only colour on him was the crimson streaming down his arm.


    ¡°Can¡¯t blame you,¡± Andy said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to fight me either.¡±


    Andy searched the rest of the tight space for alcohol, headlamp illuminating the shadows. He got his hopes up after finding a large vial of clear liquid with a black molten centre, but it was just a lava lamp. A couple more bottles had smashed on impact, but a third one had remained intact, stuffed between two couch cushions. The label read: ?uic?, with a purple fruit on the front. Andy shrugged. It was 44%, good enough for him.


    ¡°Do you see a briefcase anywhere?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Andy said, comparing the ?uic? with the scotch he¡¯d scavenged from the fuel station, wondering if they¡¯d mix well. He took a swig and smacked his lips. It burnt his throat and filled his nostrils. He sniffed. Kind of fruity, but not in an obnoxiously sugary way. Not bad.


    ¡°Here sis, want to try some?¡±


    Clara scowled. ¡°How do you know it¡¯s not poison?¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± Andy appraised the bottle. ¡°Good point.¡± He took another swig. ¡°I¡¯ll let you know.¡±


    She tutted. ¡°It¡¯s not here.¡± Exciting the back, she rounded the van and searched the driverside, then returned after a minute. ¡°It¡¯s not there. We don¡¯t have a lead. If one of them had survived¡­¡± She gazed into the van. ¡°I bet he killed himself because he knew something.¡±


    Andy strolled outside, lifting the door above him like a tent flap, letting it shut behind him. He wielded both bottles of alcohol akimbo, rifle slung over his back. Clara raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°We¡¯re not going to get much out of you today then?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll get enough. Don¡¯t forget my new ability. AI approved alcoholism.¡±


    Clara rolled her eyes, pacing towards the edge of the road. Andy hopped onto the bonnet of a derelict car and stretched out, catching some morning rays. The sun had just risen and already they¡¯d killed a patrol of cultists. He¡¯d already met his quota for the day.


    ¡°They must know what¡¯s in the briefcase they took, if they¡¯re willing to defend it with their lives.¡± Clara stood beside him, eyeing the van suspiciously. ¡°That boy took his own life so that we couldn¡¯t question him. So we¡¯re dealing with very loyal cultists. Loyal to a leader of some sort, perhaps an Augmented person.¡± She scrunched her face up like she was trying to envision all of the paths leading before her eyes. ¡°We might be getting in over our heads here.¡±


    ¡°Sis, we just smoked six kids in a van without breaking a sweat. I think we¡¯ll be alright.¡±


    Clara sighed, peering down the motorway, eyes shaded beneath the bill of her military cap. ¡°We¡¯re running out of time. Linton said that the briefcase was armed with failsafes against thieves. If they try and force it open, they¡¯ll trigger the explosion, the payload explodes and it¡¯s mission failure. If they manage to crack the failsafes, and steal the contents, then it¡¯s mission failure. If they chuck the briefcase off a cliff, or lose it in the middle of a horde of zombies, then it¡¯s mission failure. Yeah, we¡¯ve rescued those two,but the facility is overrun and the tech is gone.¡± She shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s not good enough. We¡¯re better than that.¡±


    ¡°If we create enough noise, they¡¯ll come out looking for us,¡± Andy said. ¡°I mean, what were these lot doing here? Patrolling? Looking for us? Looking for them?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡±


    ¡°We draw them out, find their base, do what we gotta do and get home for supper. You wanna set off now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll just check the driver¡¯s side for radios and maps.¡± She rounded the vehicle and climbed through the broken glass.


    Andy spread his arms above his head, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying his spoils. Closing his eyes, he listened to the landscape. The world was quiet, as usual. A car door creaked on its hinges. The van¡¯s engine ticked at a slower rate. Andy listened to see if it was faster than his resting heart rate. It was. With a flutter of feathers, a crow landed on a tall lamp post across the road. Andy squinted through one eye at the bird, then waved.


    The crow looked right at him. ¡°Danger,¡± it squawked.


    ¡°What?¡± Andy looked over the ?uic? label. Sometimes, a different strain of alcohol affected him more severely, whether that had something to do with his own natural tolerance, or the inhibitors his Augmentation had installed. Currently, there was a golden window whereby he could drink all the ?uic? he wanted and get absolutely blasted before his Augmented biology caught up.


    ¡°Find anything?¡± he shouted to Clara. He swigged and took a dizzying breath, but there was no response from his sister¨Cshe was out of sight, still rummaging around the front of the vehicle. The van¡¯s stomach made a strange gurgling sound. Andy leaned over to check the exhaust and pavement¨Cit wasn¡¯t leaking. They weren¡¯t in any danger of an explosion. But what was causing the noise?


    Something shifted in the dark of the van¡¯s rear compartment¨Che could just about see inside through the bottom door. Andy slid off the car bonnet, pocketing his booze and raising his rifle. The top door was still shut, obscuring most of the inside. He switched his headlamp on and knelt down, but the light didn¡¯t have much of an effect this far from the entrance. Standing up again, he approached the doorway and listened. It was quiet inside. Was the booze just playing tricks on him? With one hand, he unlatched the upper door and hefted it over his head.


    A deep purple tendril twisted in the centre of the room, rising around a levitating corpse. Its head was bowed, face obscured by long black hair. A long gash ran up the flesh of its forearm, bled dry. Andy almost opened fire on instinct, but froze. It felt like slamming on the breaks. The intoxicating metallic taste of his Augmentation¡¯s powers turned acrid in his mouth, and he strained not to vomit, but a fusillade of rounds could penetrate the back wall and hit Clara in the front of the van.


    The figure raised its head.


    Andy slammed the door shut behind him. ¡°Clara!¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± She peeked out behind the bonet.


    ¡°Levitating goth kid. Purple light. Pissed off. Either that, or I¡¯m way too drunk right now.¡±


    Blackness swelled beneath the bottom door, roiling up in the air like a thick spirit poured into a clear mixer. As Andy backed away, the dark cloud rose upwards to blot out the sun, casting a shadow over the van. But Andy¡¯s gaze remained fixed on the doorway waiting for something to appear. He wouldn¡¯t hesitate this time. As soon as it showed its face, he¡¯d blast it.


    A pale spot appeared in the fog above his head. His Killer Instinct reflexes triggered as his entire body twitched towards it like a magnet. There was a demonic face in the fog with razor teeth and a descended maw. It snapped at him, teeth chattering. The darkness fell on him like a wave.


    Andy opened fire, ripping the pale flesh apart like tearing up a napkin. He ducked and rolled out of the fog, but it was all around him. A flash of white cut him across his cheek. Something flashed in his periphery. Julie snapped out of her holster and into his hand. With a rush of passion, Andy fired a Vortex, decimating the shape within the shadow. The shockwave created a tunnel in the blackness. Shadows closed around the hole as Andy ran through it and turned back.


    The cloud rose high above the van, spreading out, taking the form of wings. At its centre levitated the young man. His arms were spread, palms up, feet dangling. He looked at Andy and grinned.


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    Andy grinned back.


    ¡°My, what a virile youth thou art,¡± the demon said in a deep, smooth voice, labouring over each word as though it was swilling wine over its tongue. ¡°Thine blood hath a potent scent, seasoned with a peculiar essence. Exotic, indeed.¡±


    ¡°Thanks mate.¡± Andy holstered Julie and slung his assault rifle up. Shell casings pinged past his ear as he squeezed the trigger. The machine recoiled through him. Andy relished the feeling of firepower pounding in his chest. The demon shrieked, shadowy wings closing in to protect the body at its centre. Andy emptied his magazine into it, plumes of shadow bursting and dissipating in the sunlight as the cloud diminished. Andy unclipped the magazine and flipped it around, chambering another one duct taped on the other side.


    Before the demon could unfurl its wings, Andy was shooting again, and Clara was at his side, unloading her SMG. Their rounds penetrated the darkness like stones plunged into a midnight lake. The substance splashed and hissed in the sunlight, evaporating with each round that blasted through it. By the time his second mag was emptied, the figure was spent, knelt before him, unveiled before the sun. The darkness around it had become only a thin mist, opaque wings draped on the pavement. Shoulders hunched, it hung its head. Andy slung his rifle over his shoulder and drew Julie, aiming her at its head.


    ¡°Do you want this kill, my love?¡±


    The figure looked up at him, bloodshot eyes wide and pale like two blood moons. It breathed heavily, its jaw hung limp, teeth cracked and disfigured. Now that it was defeated, it looked more like the boy from the van, than the demon in the sky.


    Its nostrils flared and it snarled, clenching its fists. With a deep, laboured breath, it screamed ¡°I am unworthy!¡±


    Andy blew it apart. The boy¡¯s body jerked backwards. No blood excited the wound. He was dry. Already dead, or so it seemed.


    Clara looked away from the body. ¡°Where did that thing come from?¡±


    ¡°Inside the van.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± She throwned. ¡°How did we miss it?¡±


    ¡°The kid was possessed, you know, the one who slit his wrists. Must have been a ritual.¡±


    Andy walked back inside the van and put a bullet through the skull of each corpse inside, just to be sure. The upturned couch wobbled as he sat on it, teetering on something beneath it.


    ¡°Are you okay,¡± Clara said, lifting the top door open and locking it in place to allow the sunlight in.


    ¡°Yeah, fine,¡± Andy said, wiping the scratch on his chin, smudging his combat gloves with blood. He sighed. The chemicals released by his Augmentation during combat still fizzed in his veins. It had been a quick fight. He hated those the most, it felt like getting worked up for nothing. Rubbing his fingers, he itched for a trigger and stared at a single spot in the jeep, trying to slow his mind.


    ¡°Demons then?¡± she said.


    ¡°Seems so.¡±


    ¡°Fuck, that could mean anything. How powerful was it?¡±


    Andy tilted his head. ¡°Yeah, not bad. I don¡¯t think it was the real deal though. Just an apparition.¡±


    ¡°I guess that answers the question then, of what are the cultists worshipping?¡±


    ¡°Kinda.¡± Memories of the demon¡¯s eyes floated to the surface of Andy¡¯s mind, quickening his heart. It wasn¡¯t often that something looked at him like that, formidable and unafraid. He shook his head, rubbing his knuckles. He¡¯d get the chance to fight it again soon enough.


    ¡°Think we can handle it?¡± Clara asked.


    Andy snorted. ¡°Let¡¯s find out.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Clara said. ¡°I have a plan. There were some maps in the glove box, and some literature.¡± She held up a small book with satanic symbolism on the cover. ¡°The Black Bible.¡±


    ¡°Cool,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°There¡¯s markings on the map. One seems to be a storehouse. Maybe worth checking out later. But more important than that, these roads lead to a settlement.¡± She pointed at lines scribbled over the pages like a spider¡¯s legs, all leading to the thorax at its centre. ¡°With a little time, I¡¯ll be able to match this map to the one on my terminal, and figure out a direct route to their base, maybe glean some information on where they¡¯re staying, maybe come up with a strategy.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the approach?¡± Andy asked.


    Clara paused, staring at the black bible. ¡°Subterfuge. We¡¯ll dress like we¡¯re cultists and walk straight into their base. You already look the part. Shouldn¡¯t be too hard to pull off.¡±


    ¡°Then we ask around for the payload?¡±


    ¡°Something like that. More subtly though, obviously.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re too blonde to be a goth,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Clara kicked a small vial of black liquid on the van¡¯s upturned floor. ¡°There¡¯s bits of makeup in here, maybe some hair dye too. Have a rummage around while I figure out the map. I¡¯ll ask the scientists to help you too. And, erm¡­¡± She grimaced, biting her lip. ¡°Strip that one,¡± she nodded at the corpse of an old woman.


    ¡°Aye aye captain.¡±


    Andy and the two scientists riffled around the van for bits and bobs. Specs complained about the sight and smell of the corpses. Andy wondered how anyone couldn¡¯t be desensitised to death by now. He must have lived a pretty sheltered life. Unlucky sod.


    Andy tossed a tray of makeup into a pile outside the van and spotted something unusual¨Ca high calibre. It didn¡¯t match the lower-grade weapons they¡¯d found so far, most of which were spiked clubs, ornate daggers and whips. He glanced around the small room and spotted a purple velvet lock box. He¡¯d at first assumed it was just another box of cheap jewellery or chalices. But on a second glance, it was too large for that. Trusting his instincts, he waded through the wreckage and opened the lid to reveal a hundred more of the fifty-calibre rounds.


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± he said.


    ¡°What?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°There¡¯s something in here.¡±


    Clara drew her pistol. Specs, the male scientist, yelped and ran outside the van, tripping over the clutter. His partner, the female scientist whom Andy had rescued from the ball pit, shrank against the wall, eyes wide.


    Andy scanned the room. ¡°There,¡± he said. ¡°Under the couch.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    Andy waggled the bullet between thumb and forefinger, grinning.


    ¡°Andy, I thought you meant a fucking demon or something.¡±


    ¡°No, better than that.¡± He heaved the couch, but couldn¡¯t shift it in the small space. Clara grabbed the other end, and together they shuffled it outside. Andy couldn¡¯t wait. He dropped his end of the couch and spun back around. A bulky, long barrelled, black-painted heavy machine gun greeted him. Andy squealed with glee, hauling up the huge weapon in two arms, cradling it like a baby.


    ¡°Look what I found!¡± he chanted, his squeal turning to manic laughter, knees shaking with excitement. Dragging it out of the van and hauling it up in his arms, he waddled over to the nearest vehicle and set it down. Andy tensed with all his might to sling the HMG¡¯s barrel onto the bonnet, flipping the tripod out, he dug the stock into his shoulder and checked the chamber. She was ready to go.


    Andy flicked the trigger. Recoil hammered his shoulder and chest, almost lifting him off his feet. He planted himself and fired a burst down the motorway. Each detonation of gunpowder was a flash of ecstasy, thrusting against him, chattering his teeth. Everywhere he pointed the barrel, things exploded. Car doors were ripped off their hinges, wing mirrors shattered, the skeleton remains of a person were erased in a cloud of dust.


    He¡¯d only got to shoot about ten rounds before Clara slapped him around the back of his head. ¡°Andy, I was just talking about being subtle.¡±


    ¡°I need to know if it works before I use it in the field.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you know now. Stop wasting ammo.¡±


    ¡°Is it a waste if I¡¯m enjoying myself?¡±


    ¡°A colossal one.¡±


    Andy sulked, carrying the machine gun back to their jeep while Clara briefed the scientists on their mission. He tried to heft as though he was firing from the hip, but it was too heavy to hold. Combine that with its recoil, and he¡¯d find it impossible to shoot without first mounting the tripod. Determined, he tried holding the gun in several positions¨Cusing the handle on the front above the barrel¨Cresting it on his shoulder like a panel of timber¨Cwrapping his arms around it and growling at it to behave. But it was just too heavy. Perhaps he could fit it to their vehicle. The roof could work. It was flat and made of solid metal. Maybe he could bolt it on?


    Rummaging in their boot, he found Clara¡¯s tools and a bag of nuts and bolts. Propping the machine gun up against the door, he climbed onto the roof and reached down to drag the weapon, grunting and bracing against the roof rack to lift its weight. Setting it in place, he noticed there were holes already drilled in the tripod¡¯s feet. He scratched Xs with the drill bit where he needed to drill, then moved the weapon aside. Pressing down into the battery powered drill, it screeched against the rooftop, slipping around before biting through the metal. A moment later, he smelled burning synthetics¨Che must have penetrated through to the roof padding.


    Andy¡¯s radio buzzed with Clara¡¯s voice. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Upgrading our jeep.¡±


    ¡°By drilling holes in it?¡±


    ¡°No. By fixing the tripod.¡±


    ¡°On the roof?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    A moment later, she came jogging up to their jeep. ¡°Is that really the best place for it? Won¡¯t you be exposed?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a risk I¡¯m willing to take.¡±


    ¡°Come on, think a second. Let¡¯s wait until we return to Quadra and put the jeep into services for a proper upgrade. We¡¯ll create a little gunner¡¯s nest on top for you.¡±


    Andy shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s too long to wait. We need this machine gun now.¡±


    ¡°Do we though?¡±


    ¡°Imagine what it¡¯d do to a horde,¡± Andy said, kneeling down with the machine gun, adjusting the tripod to his height, pretending to shoot at pursuing zombies.


    ¡°Yeah, great, until something jumps on the roof with you.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t get close,¡± he protested, settling into a gunner¡¯s pose, aiming down the sights.


    ¡°Andy, focus. I¡¯ve mapped the coordinates. We¡¯ll reach the settlement in about six hours. Are you listening?¡±


    Andy took his hands off the machine gun and held them up in surrender. ¡°I am. But, I don¡¯t think we can continue our mission knowing that our best asset¨Cthis machine gun¨Cis currently inoperative.¡±


    Clara sighed. ¡°Fine, but let me do the handiwork.¡±


    ¡°My pleasure,¡± Andy hopped off the roof and gave Clara a leg up.


    ¡°Oh, I can¡¯t wait to use this. Where¡¯s that horde that was chasing us?¡±


    ¡°Far behind us,¡± Clara said. ¡°If I¡¯m going to fix this in place, you have to do me a favour too.¡±


    ¡°Anything sis.¡±


    ¡°Listen to my plan.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Andy sat crossed legged on the ground, unscrewing his scotch and taking a sip.


    ¡°There¡¯s a village in the mountains which seems to be their base. The terrain is forested. Plenty of cover. We can hide the jeep near the village and move in on foot disguised as goths.¡± Clara began attaching the HMG¡¯s tripod to the roof.


    ¡°I¡¯ve found enough makeup for the both of us. You¡¯ll just need a little touch up around the eyes, but your skin¡¯s already pale enough to pass. I found a packet of black hair dye too. It¡¯s temporary, thank god. Can you imagine me with black hair?¡±


    Andy didn¡¯t know how to respond. He reckoned he could.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± she continued. ¡°We¡¯ll leave those two with the vehicle and move into this village,¡± she pointed to a spot on her wrist terminal. ¡°It was a little tourist spot before the cataclysm. Hallow Hill it¡¯s called. Sounds like they had some fair rides and attractions. Spooky themed stuff. I don¡¯t know. We¡¯ll know more when we get there.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good.¡±


    ¡°Riddhi will make you pretty for the mission.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    The scientist lady approached him carrying a makeup bag. He hadn¡¯t even realised she was there.


    ¡°Hold still,¡± she said, moving her face uncomfortably close to his and flicking a brush over his eyelash.


    Clara smiled at him from the roof of the jeep. ¡°Aww, you look prettier already.¡±

 Chapter 18 - Hallow Hill

    Clara bent a branch out of her way and gazed through her binoculars at the hilltop. The scene reminded her of paintings she had seen of medieval villages, only that the illusion was broken by the occasional parked motorbike or electrical pylon. At the rear of the village, a sheer cliff dove into a valley. Perched atop the cliff¡¯s crest dominated a black castle. It rose like a claw against the skyline, fingernails as gothic spires. A ray of sunlight peeked out from behind the overcast clouds, casting a thousand intricate shadows across the castle¡¯s ornate stone like a swarm of ants frenzying over a carcass. As the shadow stretched over the village, the tallest spire fell upon the road before them, pointing at their hiding position on the bluff like an accusation, or a warning.


    Clara shivered and lowered her binoculars, checking her immediate surroundings. The smell of woodsmoke from the village merged with the wet dirt, coaxing her out of her hiding place towards the warmth. The ground was cold beneath her stomach, but she remained still. After a moment, the sun disappeared, the shadows faded away, and the gloom was whole again, pierced only by flickers of firelight. Clara took a breath to calm her nerves, glancing over at Andy. He yawned and returned her gaze.


    ¡°Where do we start?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Give me a minute to scope it out.¡±


    Clara peered through her binoculars, tracing the main road through the village, making a mental map of their surroundings. She took her time, absorbing the details, forming an image of the residents in her mind. If she were to pull off a convincing impression, she would need to know a little about them. Around the outskirts of the main village were groups of shacks¨Cthe sort Clara was used to seeing in the wasteland, constructed of recycled timber and sheet metal with thatched or tarpaulin roofs. Chickens and pigs roamed in pens around the outskirts. Two horses were tied to a post near a dirt path. A dog barked, chasing children through a barren garden, long since bent low by the frosts of winter.


    Further up the hill, timber extensions merged with pre-cataclysm brick masonry. Precarious towers protruded from slate roofs, like sapling imitations of the goliath oak nearby. Clara spotted people at work under the cloudy midday sky. They were dressed in all black. Dark face paint and tattoos illustrated their pale flesh. They looked gaunt, though Clara supposed this was a factor of malnutrition rather than style. She and Andy had spotted farmland on the road towards the village, and evidence of pastures, but perhaps not enough to feed a population of this size. If every building in the village was occupied, Clara estimated something in the region of three-thousand residents. That was a lot, almost as many as who lived inside the walls of Quadra.


    The tracker blinked frantically in her hand. Linton had shown her how to mute the device before they had separated where their jeep was parked, a ways down the road hidden in a thicket.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we get a drink?¡± Andy said.


    Clara was about to tell him off, but then she considered it properly. If they wanted to soak up the culture and pick up on local rumours, a pub wasn¡¯t a bad shout


    ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Shuffling backwards through the undergrowth, they found the road and walked right into the village.


    Clara adjusted the straps of the tiny backpack. Her whole outfit was unfamiliar; it made her skin crawl. The only thing familiar was her silver watch, her brimmed cap and black combat boots. ¡°Are you nervous?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Clara nudged her sidearm to check it was there, concealed in a rib-side holster beneath her black leather jacket. ¡°Rendezvous here if things go tits up.¡±


    Andy unscrewed his hip flask and took a swig. She¡¯d made him leave the bottles he¡¯d scavenged with the jeep, but nothing could separate him from his flask. ¡°Gotcha.¡±


    A man approached them, leading a donkey-drawn cart. Clara¡¯s heart rate shot up and she held her breath, but the stranger passed them by without as much of a glance. So their disguises were working.


    Clara scratched her scalp. The hair dye was still a little wet, so she¡¯d hidden it beneath her hat with a black ponytail poking out the rear fasten strap. Her thighs protested with every rigid step she took. She¡¯d taken the largest sized jeans she could find amongst the dead, but they were still far too tight of a fit. They made her feel exposed, unlike her usual baggy combat trousers, which at least left something to the imagination. She¡¯d caught Linton catching a glance while she was organising her supplies for the mission. No matter how traumatised, how perilous their situation, some men seemed to have a special reserve of energy for being perverted.


    Clara checked the contents of her pouches for what must be the ninth or tenth time. Normally, she went into battle with a full combat vest and compact backpack, kitted with a dozen compartments, full of gadgets, grenades and ammunition. However, her usual outfit didn¡¯t suit gothic fashion. Instead, she had attached three small leather pouches to her belt and wore a tiny backpack with little bat wings sewed onto it. She had to admit, the backpack was kind of cute, but completely unsuitable. It weighed like a brick with what she¡¯d stuffed in it, including her wrist terminal.


    On the road ahead, a sign read ¡®Welcome to Hallow Hill¡¯ in cartoonishly gothic writing. The paint was cracked and faded, and she could see where the lettering had been gone over in marker pen. The road into the village rose steadily beside a stream. Ahead was a three-story timber building with two crude towers jutting out of its sides. Clara could tell from their disrepair that the towers were hollow¨Cjust there for show.


    A signpost outside the building read ¡®The Crypt Inn¡¯. Moats redirected the stream around the inn, causing it to narrow and plunge over a water wheel. Parked outside the inn were two black vans similar to the one which they¡¯d shot up earlier. A dozen or so motorbikes were stacked on a rocky verge beside the stream, and a stable sheltered horses nearby.


    Clara kept an eye on a group of men standing in the shadows of the stable. Something didn¡¯t seem right about them. As the path took them closer towards the inn, one of the men stepped out of the shadows. A bell jangled on a chain, latched around his neck. The man wore a sack over his head and ragged clothing. He was so skinny, Clara thought it was a miracle that he had the energy to stand. Naturally, Clara found herself drifting towards the man, drawn by his suffering. Who could treat someone like these? Even a slave? To chain them up, reduce them to a starving animal. What purpose could this serve?


    ¡°Hey, sis.¡± Andy remained on the path behind her. ¡°You sure that¡¯s a good idea?¡±


    A clatter of bells rang out as more of the chained slaves drew themselves from the shadows. Clara stopped in her tracks, beyond the reach of their chains. One of the men was missing an arm, another had its stomach cut open, the wound bled dry. All of them wore sacks on their heads, drawn to her by scent or sound, or some other sense only the undead could comprehend. Clara backed away, returning to Andy¡¯s side.


    Andy kept his eyes on the chained zombies. ¡°Weird, huh?¡±


    ¡°What are they keeping them for?¡±


    He shrugged.


    ¡°Guard dogs, maybe. That would explain the bells on the chains.¡±


    Three men trudged down the path towards them, coming from the village. The sun was beginning to set on another early winter night. Not wanting to seem hesitant, Clara approached the inn ahead of the villagers. Swallowing her doubts, she opened the heavy set wooden door and stepped inside.


    The warmth washed over with a dozen familiar smells: booze-soaked wood and well-worn leather; burning wax and tobacco smoke, both undertones to the fireplaces¡¯ hefty soot. She was standing in a cloakroom. Ahead, up a couple steps, was the bar, adjoining which were several low-ceilinged rooms. The pegs on either side of her were filled with identical black cloaks and leather jackets. Clara kept her cloak about her so that it concealed her submachine gun slung over her shoulder, its stock folded up to be compact..


    Before Clara could take the lead, Andy marched ahead of her to the candlelit bar. ¡°Beer.¡±


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    The barkeep looked at him sceptically, then poured a drink from a cask behind the bar. ¡°Three thangs.¡±


    ¡°Thangs? Of course, thangs. I left mine at home.¡± Andy spoke in an odd accent for some reason, dulling his vowels while adding odd flicks to certain words. Clara had never heard him do it before. ¡°Wanna trade for it instead?¡±


    ¡°I could trade,¡± the barkeep said.


    ¡°How¡¯s about some nine millimetre ammo? I do not use the stuff.¡± Andy procured a bag of rounds they¡¯d scavenged from the cultists earlier that day and put it on the bar. The barkeep poked through the rounds, picking one out to inspect it.


    ¡°These¡¯ll do,¡± he said, pocketing the bag. ¡°What¡¯s your lady friend having?¡±


    ¡°Get me whatever,¡± Clara said, trying to sound casual, but trying not to sound like she was trying. ¡°Is there something in your throat, brother?¡± She glowered at him, but he didn¡¯t seem to get the hint. Or he pretended not to.


    ¡°Thank you, mister,,¡± Andy said as the second drink arrived, still putting on an accent. ¡°What¡¯s new?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± the barkeep said. He was clean shaven with thick sideburns. His eyes shone in pits of black makeup. A large padded leather jacket mantled his broad shoulders. Silver rings ornate with skulls and occult symbols looked diminutive on his thick hands. ¡°You¡¯re new, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re the recruits,¡± Andy said.


    The barkeep narrowed his eyes. ¡°Who recruited you?¡±


    ¡°The old codger himself,¡± Andy said. ¡°Spoke to me directly. Said I was a good fit.¡±


    ¡°Codger?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the demon bloke. Bat wings, sharp teeth. Horrible temper.¡±


    The barkeep¡¯s face grew stern. ¡°You should not speak of the master like that.¡±


    ¡°Nah, it¡¯s cool, we¡¯re close. He¡¯s a fan of my work, I¡¯m a fan of his.¡±


    The barkeep¡¯s eyes flitted across Andy¡¯s face, trying to read his expression, then they darted at Clara. She nodded and hid her face behind her beer. Her heart raced, thinking of what she could say to diffuse the situation. Andy was being far too cocky. She should have known better to trust he could be subtle after he blew his cover with the mutants last week.


    ¡°Mind your manners in my establishment,¡± the barkeep said. ¡°We don¡¯t tolerate belligerence.¡±


    ¡°Hey, if you don¡¯t believe me, that¡¯s your business.¡± Andy held his arms up in surrender. ¡°But you¡¯ll be seeing a lot more of me soon, and I reckon it¡¯s best you be in my good-books, barkeep.¡±


    The big man snorted. ¡°Sure.¡±


    A cultist stumbled to the bar and asked for another round of drinks. It gave Clara a moment to think. She surveyed the inn. Several rooms adjoined the bar area¨Cmost were alcovers with just a few chairs and a table, but one large common room was laden with couches and tapestries. Candles burned atop the furniture and skirting, coating everything in a weeping white callous. The only other source of light was from a fireplace in the common room, which was surrounded by lounging goths. The furniture inside was a mix of that scavenged from the wasteland, but all of it was dark leather¨Creds, purples, blacks.


    Clara smelled a stew cooking and fresh bread from a kitchen behind the bar. ¡°Will that cover food as well?¡± she asked about the pouch of bullets.


    ¡°Just about,¡± the barkeep said. He sipped from a chalice and went into the kitchen. Andy finished his beer by the time the barkeep returned and raised his glass for another.


    ¡°It¡¯ll cost you more,¡± the barkeep said.


    Andy threw another bag of rounds on the counter. ¡°Keep them coming.¡± He led the way into the common room. As much as Clara did not appreciate the improvised accent and cocky attitude, a bar was Andy¡¯s territory¨Chis bread and butter¨Cshe¡¯d be better off following his lead, no matter how nervous it made her.


    The two of them sat beside a small brass table in the corner of the room, waiting for their food. Clara''s stomach grumbled reluctantly, but she was determined to eat a bit of stew just to fit in. She had to remind herself that her disguise was working. The goths on the table nearest to them were young, probably just a bit younger than those who they¡¯d killed in the van earlier that day. Maybe they were related? Younger brothers? She nodded at one of them when he glanced their way, shutting herself off from the memory of those bodies in the back of the van. They had shot first. They had attacked the scientists¨CBlue Eyes assets. This had to be done.


    Clara stared into her mug. But did it have to be done like this? They had infiltrated a society of people whose lives they knew nothing about. She was a deceiver. If something went wrong, and they were discovered to be frauds, they¡¯d have to fight their way out of town. Before the day was up, she might have to kill a lot of these cultists¡­ goths, whatever they were. People. It could be a bloodbath, and all it would take was one wrong word, one tiny mistake.


    The food arrived, but Clara felt sick. She dipped her bread in the soup while Andy removed his gloves and wolfed his down. How bad were these cultists really? Maybe they worshipped a demon, or maybe they were forced into doing its bidding.


    ¡°The great lord master would sooner guffaw than cherish your meagre offering,¡± one of the goths nearby said. He looked the oldest amongst the three teenage boys. His voluminous black hair curtained a web of cheap brass necklaces draped over his exposed, hairless chest.


    ¡°At least when he laughs, we shall awake,¡± another goth with a pointed collar said.


    ¡°The two of you make fun,¡± the youngest of the three replied. ¡°But I do not see any offerings in your hands. If you do not make an effort, the lord gracious master will think of you as idle dullards.¡±


    The eldest boy reclined in his blood-red leather throne, sipping a chalice of wine. ¡°More the dullard to assert that a gift so meagre as yours might rouse his supremacy from slumber.¡±


    ¡°You shall retract such a statement once tonight''s ritual is through,¡± the youngest said.


    ¡°I very much doubt you will make it to the castle¡¯s pinnacle,¡± the eldest said. ¡°For the journey is wrought with horrors, the like that occupy a boy¡¯s nightmares.¡±


    ¡°I am no boy,¡± the youngest said, puffing out his pigeon chest. ¡°I am a man. Have I not received martial training under Yvron?¡±


    ¡°Training cannot prepare a fledgling for real combat.¡±


    ¡°Oh, indulge us Carrion ,¡± said the boy with the spiked collar. ¡°Recount to us your tale of assault upon unarmed men and women alike.¡±


    ¡°You are a wrangler,¡± the youngest said. ¡°A mere slave wrangler, no warrior priest of his supreme.¡±


    ¡°Yes I am,¡± the eldest named Carrion said, sitting forward, sloshing his wine. ¡°Twice, I fired my rifle.¡±


    ¡°And twice you missed.¡±


    ¡°Whether or not, it sent them scattering into the jaws of the undead.¡±


    ¡°God, I can¡¯t wait for tonight¡¯s ritual,¡± Andy interrupted loudly. The three goths broke their conversation to consider him. Clara¡¯s mind raced for something to say.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Carrion said. ¡°It shall be quite¡­ exquisite.¡±


    Andy made a high-pitched, pleasurable whine. ¡°Exquisite indeed.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be our first,¡± Clara said. ¡°Since we joined.¡±


    ¡°Your first?¡± the kid with the pointed collar asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ you¡¯ve been initiated?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± she said, forcing her breathing to remain regular. ¡°But this will be our first proper one.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Carrion said. ¡°Do you possess an offering more worthy than my friend Raven¡¯s statuette?¡±


    ¡°This, I carved with my bare hands,¡± Raven said, producing a small wooden figure. Clara had to squint in the firelight to decipher what it was: a bat with its wings spread out and two stumpy legs, carved from a single block of wood. It had sharp eyes, round ears and a fat stomach.


    ¡°That¡¯s nice,¡± she said.


    ¡°Rubbish,¡± Andy said. ¡°The grand, supreme, awesome master won¡¯t bat an eye at that piece of shit, if you¡¯d pardon the pun.¡±


    After a moment of figuring it out, Carrion laughed haughtily. ¡°Very good, sir.¡±


    ¡°What have you but spiteful words, stranger?¡± Raven glared at Andy, nostrils flared.


    Andy stared back blankly and tapped his nose. ¡°Something special.¡±


    ¡°Care to tell?¡±


    ¡°A Mighty Boosh DVD box set. I reckon it¡¯s up his alley.¡±


    There was another awkward silence. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Raven asked.


    ¡°Never mind,¡± Andy said. Clara had no idea what he was referencing either. Sometimes, Andy existed inside his own little world, with his own jokes, all for himself. Currently, he was getting by on confidence alone.


    The third of the goths set his chalice down, straightened his pointed collar and narrowed his eyes at Andy. ¡°Your fingers remain unpainted. Pale tips like the blunt teeth of a herbivore. What is the meaning of this?¡±


    Clara froze. She had meant to paint his nails black earlier that day, but must have gotten distracted and neglected to remember. It was a major flaw in his disguise.


    ¡°Well, speak.¡± The kid raised his voice and stood up out of his seat. ¡°Or has the crow bitten off your lips?¡±


    Clara¡¯s mind short-circuited. She had no answer. This was the mistake Clara had dreaded. She shifted in her chair, giving herself room to draw the SMG. Mentally, she ran through the procedure of flicking the gun up, shifting it to rapid fire, pointing it at Raven and the other teenagers and pulling the trigger. The thought of violence was dizzying, churning her gut. She almost vomited, but held it back, clinging to control which the cultists¡¯ accusation festered in the air.


    Carrion must have spotted the trepidation in her expression, because he stared at her. She could see the suspicion grow behind his narrowing eyes. Any second now, she¡¯d be forced to shoot the scowl off his face. Tensing her gut, Clara held her breath, and resolved to do what was necessary.

 Chapter 19 - Birdcage

    ¡°So what?¡± Andy said, admiring his unpainted nails in the candlelight of the inn¡¯s busy common room.


    ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s sacrilege,¡± Raven said, looking at the eldest for confirmation.


    ¡°They look like moons like this though,¡± Andy said. ¡°Or the whites of a zombie¡¯s eyes. Pretty cool, huh?¡± He spread his fingers before his face dramatically. ¡°Oohh.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not conventional,¡± Carrion said woodenly, hesitant to challenge Andy. His eyes drifted to the revolver hanging at Andy¡¯s hip and he slouched back in his throne.


    ¡°It¡¯s sacrilege,¡± Raven said, sneering at Andy. Clara could tell he was the runt of the group with something to prove. ¡°There is no excuse.¡±


    ¡°Excuse my interruption.¡± A fourth, older man approached, standing above Raven¡¯s chair. ¡°But I¡¯m trying to relax, and idle accusations turn the wine sour.¡±


    ¡°His fingernails aren¡¯t painted,¡± Raven wined, stabbing a finger at Andy.


    ¡°Thought I¡¯d go with something new,¡± Andy said, addressing the newcomer. He was about Andy¡¯s age; each held the other¡¯s gaze. The older goth had long hair, almost down to his stomach. He was roughly shaven, his makeup patchy, his dark trousers baggier than the strangle-tight cut which the youth wore.


    ¡°Well, paint them in the future.¡± The older goth turned back around.


    Raven stormed off in the opposite direction, taking his figurine with him.


    ¡°Shall we parlour?¡± Carrion offered his hand to the empty spaces at his table.


    ¡°Much obliged,¡± Clara said, trying to subtly match the haughty way he spoke.


    ¡°Yeah, alright,¡± Andy said.


    The muzzle of her submachine gun poked out beneath her cloak as she lounged in the chair but nobody seemed alarmed. Guns were fairly normal in the wasteland, no matter which apocalypse zone you were in. She noticed the odd sidearm on the patrons in the inn, and a shotgun hung behind the bar, but nothing else big. No assault rifles, the likes which she¡¯d made Andy leave with their jeep. If anyone asked, she¡¯d explain that they were out in the wasteland that afternoon.


    The goths withdrew their occult books and proceeded to discuss dark magic. Clara had pocketed the black book which she¡¯d stolen with her, resting it on her lap as proof of her allegiance to the cult. There was some sort of ritual happening tonight, and Clara quickly discovered that it was common for goths of surrounding settlements to travel to Hallow Hill to participate.


    ¡°Which settlement are you from?¡± Clot asked.


    ¡°We drift around,¡± Clara said. ¡°Whever the dark lord needs us the most.¡±


    Carrion took the lead over philosophical discussion as though he was educating the rest. Clara was content to sit and listen, absorb their culture and gain their trust. Andy kept the drinks coming, dozing in his chair, gazing into the fireplace.


    ¡°One¡¯s appetite for life must never surpass the master¡¯s,¡± he said, going on about subservience and self sacrifice.


    ¡°I agree,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°A shame he did not choose you for a concubine,¡± Carrion said.


    ¡°A great shame,¡± Clara said earnestly.


    ¡°It may be the fatness about your thighs, which demonstrates indulgence.¡±


    Clara fought to keep her expression neutral. ¡°Must be.¡±


    ¡°There is always next winter,¡± he said, refilling his challice.


    ¡°When¡¯s tonight¡¯s ritual,¡± Clara asked, suddenly keen to get the conversation over with.


    ¡°The same time as usual, midnight.¡±


    ¡°How long have you been a disciple for?¡± the other goth asked.


    ¡°A few months,¡± Clara replied. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t get your name.¡±


    ¡°Clot,¡± he said.


    ¡°My name¡¯s Lunar,¡± Clara said. ¡°And this is Shade.¡± She pointed at Andy.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to make your acquaintance,¡± Clot said. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen you before.¡±


    ¡°I do work outside of Hallow Hill,¡± Clara said. ¡°We spread the word of the lord far and wide, trying to convert others to his service.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware that was an ambition of his most dreadfullness.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a new project.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Carrion said.


    ¡°Though it pains me to say, we must depart,¡± Clara said. ¡°Disciples, your company this evening has been exemplary.¡±


    ¡°The pleasure is all mine.¡± Carrion stood beside her and took her hand. He kissed it softly.


    Clara shivered and bit her tongue, clenching her other hand into a fist. ¡°How nice,¡± she said flatly. ¡°Shade, we¡¯re going.¡±


    Andy chugged the rest of his beer and the two of them exited without making a scene. Outside, the sun had set. A chill wind swept through the bracken and weeds growing beside the road.


    ¡°I think you pulled, sis,¡± Andy said.


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    ¡°Shut up.¡±


    They approached the village on foot. Candlelight dotted the windowsills. An overcast sky hid the full moon from view, shrouding the village in darkness. Behind the village, the castle was obscured and lifeless. Clara wrapped her velvet cloak around her to ward off the cold.


    ¡°Right, what do we know?¡± she said.


    ¡°We know that Raven can¡¯t carve a statue for shit.¡±


    ¡°Very helpful,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s a ritual at midnight, and it involves offerings of some sort. Perhaps there¡¯ll be another summoning, maybe a sacrifice. If the goths are aware of the value of the briefcase they stole, they could have taken it to their master already, or be saving it as an offering during the ritual. It might also be in the possession of some affluent member of their society.¡± She glanced around the village, trying to spot any buildings that stood out. It didn¡¯t seem like they had much in the ways of wealth of hierarchy here, other than the castle.


    ¡°We¡¯d better explore,¡± she said. They passed a threshold where old-world buildings met the new. Patches of concrete lay buried beneath mud. Brickwork buildings crouched in disrepair, partially rebuilt from local stone and patchwork timber. Water dripped from thatched roofs overhead into two muddy drains on either side of the path. A bucket lay in the mud, smelling of excrement beside a broken, rotting cart wheel. Clara turned her nose up at the stench and kept to the centre of the path.


    An old woman sat muttering to herself on her porch. A cat appeared in the alleyway beside her, watching as Clara walked by. Rats splashed in the drain on the opposite side, squeaking and retreating into cracks beneath the ground.


    Ahead, the path flattened and spread outwards into a small courtyard. There were no wagons as she might expect, no commerce. Three more paths lead from the courtyard. One was barred by an ornate metal gate. Beyond the gate, a fenced pathway snaked through a copse of barren trees up the hillside, towards the castle. There was no way through the gate, except to climb it.


    Five cages hung in the centre of the courtyard from a repurposed electrical pole like a grotesque bird feeder. A leg dangled down from one of the cages. A man sat inside.


    Clara stopped. ¡°I think we¡¯ve found our sacrifice. This must be where the ritual is held.¡± She checked her watch: Seven o¡¯clock. They had plenty of time to kill before midnight. Clara scanned the edges of the courtyard. The soft clatter and murmur of residents flitted across the cobblestones, coming from inside the surrounding buildings. Dim firelight shone behind wooden blinds, shimmering in a rare un-smashed glass window.


    Would it seem unusual for her to approach the prisoner in the cage? Clara told herself that she needed a closer look in order to gain information on the upcoming ritual, however, her heart tugged her forward with just as much force as intrigue. Before she knew it, she was walking into the centre of the courtyard, hand pressed gently against the stock of her submachine gun. The prisoner did not move as she approached. He barely had the room to sit upright. Clara came within earshot, then a thought occurred to her. What if this wasn¡¯t a prisoner at all? What if he was a willing sacrifice? Revealing themselves as enemies of the cultists could be a big mistake.


    She stood still, unwilling to make the first move, weighing up her options, then opted for a neutral greeting. ¡°Good evening.¡±


    The prison didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°So you¡¯re the sacrifice?¡± she said.


    No response. He looked at her through dark eyes. His face was filthy and swollen, caked in blood. His clothes were torn, but something about him seemed familiar. Clara dug a torch out of her bat-bag, twisted the lens to the dimmest setting and shone it on the prisoner. He squinted in the light, turning his chin. There was a tattoo on his neck: two crossed tusks made an X.


    ¡°You¡¯re a Hog,¡± Clara said.


    The prisoner turned his head back around. Clara pocketed the torch and stepped closer to the cage. Suddenly, he grasped the bars and leant in.


    ¡°Blue Eyes,¡± he croaked.


    ¡°You were in the truck?¡±


    He nodded, pressing his face between the bars. ¡°Help me.¡±


    Clara swallowed. Okay, this complicated things.


    ¡°I was ambushed¡­ by these fucking emos.¡± He coughed hoarsely, like grinding stones, and spat up a globule of blood. ¡°Water.¡±


    Clara checked their surroundings again. Moonlight breathed a soft glow upon the concrete courtyard, encircled by deep shadows. Window shutters were locked against the cold, orange candlelight glowed through the slits. A dozen watchful eyes could be upon them, and she wouldn¡¯t be able to tell.


    ¡°We¡¯re too exposed,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    He just stared at her, hand outstretched.


    ¡°We¡¯re undercover,¡± she explained. ¡°The payload is likely in the possession of some cultists here. We don¡¯t know what their intentions are, but once we find it, we¡¯re going to take it back.¡±


    ¡°Payload?¡± he said. ¡°Sod the payload, help me.¡±


    Clara¡¯s chest ached. She turned from the cage, making a show of looking around the courtyard. Truth was, she couldn¡¯t meet his gaze, not for what she was about to say.


    ¡°Our mission remains the same. We¡¯ll rescue you when the time is right.¡±


    The prisoner was silent.


    ¡°If you¡¯ve seen the payload, or might know where it is, then that might speed things up,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s a metal briefcase. Our working theory is that they¡¯re going to offer it to their demonic master during tonight¡¯s ritual.¡±


    ¡°Demonic?¡± he said. ¡°Ritual? What the fuck?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, they worship a demon here.¡±


    The prisoner wheezed and shifted in his cage. ¡°Where are my Hogs?¡±


    ¡°Dead,¡± Clara said. It was better to be blunt.


    ¡°Abigail?¡±


    ¡°Dead. It¡¯s just us left.¡±


    ¡°I can be useful to you.¡± His voice was desperate. Clara had heard the tone before. It often preceded death. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me here.¡±


    She forced herself to meet his eyes, and remembered how they¡¯d looked before in the open window of his pickup truck as he pulled up beside her outside the Massive Fun warehouse. It had been Clara¡¯s idea for him to drive ahead and distract the horde. But even if it hadn¡¯t, it wasn¡¯t her fault that he got captured. It wasn¡¯t her responsibility. She chose to rescue him for her own reasons.


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving you. I¡¯m not a monster. We will return. We¡¯ll get you out of there, I swear. But not now.¡± She shook her head, holding his gaze. ¡°We still have a mission to do.¡±


    The man¡¯s face dropped, and he closed his swollen eyes.


    ¡°We¡¯re not going to abandon you, but before we save you, we¡¯re just cultists. Don¡¯t blow our cover or we¡¯re all dead.¡±


    She hoped he saw her sincerity, for all their sakes.


    The prisoner nodded slowly. Clara turned her back on him, following a path they hadn¡¯t yet explored.


    ¡°Robert,¡± he shouted after them. ¡°My name is Robert.¡±


    His name latched onto Clara like a ball and chain as she dragged her feet over the concrete. Her heart sank into her stomach, and she closed her eyes for a moment. They would save him¡­ They would try.


    ¡°Well he¡¯s fucked,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Not necessarily.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No. I¡¯ll think of something.¡±


    They had been in similar situations before with prisoners, people stranded, people starving. Clara had seen a lot of people die when they didn¡¯t have to. But over the years, she¡¯d been able to save a few through small gestures. A little food spared here, a padlock shot off its latch there. Though, it was never easy to convince Andy to lend his strength to humanitarian aid. She sometimes chastised him for his stoicism, but she had to admit, it was necessary at times like these. They would not jeopardise the mission just to save Robert¡¯s life, nor would they abandon him to barbarism of the ritual. It was a matter of timing. They had to get eyes on the payload before the ritual started, then she could arrange a plan.


    Whatever she decided, Andy would follow her, at least until the shooting started and he got carried away with things. He trusted her with the plans; she didn¡¯t take that trust lightly. She had to think rationally, do what was best for them both. Even if that meant making some difficult decisions.


    But not if it meant watching a helpless man die.

 Chapter 20 - The Ritual

    Andy followed Clara around the village for a couple hours, searching for signs of the payload. On the outskirts of the village beside the main road, they spied inside a large garage stocked with dozens of motorbikes, lined up on the concrete outside or dismantled on work benches within. Their black bodies and silver handlebars glittered in the light of a welding torch, as three goths wandered about the interior of the garage, tending operating on the disembowelled machines. Andy skulked closer in the shadows of the long, low building, while Clara observed through her binoculars from afar.


    The building¡¯s road-facing wall was made from entirely glass, most of which was smashed and patched up with chain-link fence. It was poorly defended. If Andy wanted to, he could just walk right in, whether now, or when the mechanics went to bed, except for one obstacle. A curtain of zombies hung from the roof by their ankles, attached to a long chain and crank which kept them suspended. As they dangled, chimes and bells adorning their withered limbs tinkled like soft rain off fine chinaware. If Andy approached now, no doubt the zombies would sense him coming and make a racket, and Andy imagined that the mechanics would lower the curtain once they retired. All in all, it was an impressive design, more on the creative side than the practical, but Andy appreciated the artistry.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± Andy whispered over his radio, hand resting on Julie¡¯s holster. Keeping his revolver company was his nine-millimetre semi-automatic pistol and a few grenades. Andy had left his assault rifle at the jeep. Clara said it didn¡¯t go with his costume. But he wouldn¡¯t need it for this. ¡°Shall I go in?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Clara hissed over the radio. ¡°It¡¯s not worth blowing our cover.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Andy¡¯s hand drifted to Julie¡¯s handle. If only he¡¯d brought a silencer, maybe he could convince Clara to let him crack on.


    ¡°It¡¯s not there.¡±


    Andy slunk back into the shadows, retreating from the rows of bikes to around the shack where Clara hid.


    ¡°They¡¯ve got a welding torch,¡± he said.


    ¡°I know.¡± Clara waved her binoculars. ¡°I can see. But I don¡¯t think it¡¯s in there. If I¡¯m wrong, once the ritual is over, we¡¯ll come back to this spot and break in.¡±


    After wandering around a little longer, they returned to the courtyard to wait for midnight. Andy found a stool to sit on beneath the eaves of a thatched roof, but it was uncomfortable, and he was bored. At least the ?uic? in his hip flask made everything lighter. Andy lounged with his back against the shack, exhaling warm air into the cold night. He was feeling cognitively limber, having been drinking spirits since the morning. Thankfully, the six pints of beer he¡¯d drunk in the inn had hydrated him enough for him to keep his wits about him.


    At eleven o¡¯clock, people started gathering in the courtyard. They huddled around candles, dressed in long robes, talking in hushed voices. The cultists didn¡¯t pay any attention to the man in the cage, but as their numbers grew, they encircled him. The prisoner was unmoving. Maybe he¡¯d died. That¡¯d make things easier. Andy had a feeling that Clara was going to do her charitable thing and risk her life to save the unlucky sod. If she got carried away, and the injured merc dragged them down, Andy was prepared to do the right thing to ensure they both got out of this mission alive.


    By half past eleven, easily around five hundred goths had gathered. Like blowing out a flame, the courtyard became hushed, and everyone turned to watch as a woman with a huge umbrella collar floated down a fenced pathway behind the courtyard. Five small fires floated about priestess, trailing smoke and fire in the dark. Andy squinted, wondering what powers she possessed. If she was Augmented, she might be dangerous. Perhaps she¡¯d put up a fight, let him test his strength. But as she got closer, Andy was disappointed to see a wire contraption attached to her back. It held five fat candles at arm''s length, like insect limbs, and wobbled with each step she took.


    The matriarch shepherded an entourage of young women dressed in bright white bodices, wrapped in dark cloaks. Each carried a single candle. They wore silken, arm-length gloves and knee-high black leather boots. Two girls unlocked the gate and their leader strode through. Her face was bright and pale. Her expression danced in the candlelight, ferocious. ¡°I beseech thee, disciples of the dark lord, whomst amongst you possesses tribute worthy of his woefulness? His malevolence. The dark lord of Hallow Hill¡­ Drakaula.¡±


    ¡°Did she say it with a k?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Shh,¡± Clara hushed him.


    ¡°Hearken to me, unworthy ones, if yee dare,¡± the lady beckoned. ¡°The way to his excellency is wrought with terrors, not for the faint hearted.¡± She spoke with a lyrical moan, with an ebb and flow. It reminded Andy of a classmate he once had in drama class at primary school before the cataclysm. She used to try and make everything she said as dramatic as possible, even if it was just a stupid play about making breakfast. Andy smiled at the memory. He¡¯d enjoyed drama. It was the only class where messing around was appreciated.


    ¡°There,¡± Clara said. The excitement in her voice seized his attention back to the courtyard. A line was forming beside the gate. Andy spotted the goth kid from earlier near the front of the que. What was his name? Crow, or something. At the back of the queue was an older man carrying a silver briefcase. Bingo.


    Andy rose, but Clara grabbed his sleeve before he could make a move. ¡°Wait.¡±


    ¡°I could just grab it and run,¡± he said. ¡°You can stay here if you want.¡±


    ¡°No, sit down.¡±


    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯ll just snatch it up, fire off a vortex shot and bounce. Meet you back at the jeep in twenty.¡±


    Clara shook her head. ¡°Chill out. Don¡¯t rush it. Look, there¡¯s a lot of people armed.¡±


    ¡°I see them,¡± Andy said.


    There were few weapons on display, but nothing military grade. Bolt-action rifles, what looked like muskets and a few crossbows, the sort of primitive firearms popular amongst destitute wastelanders.


    Andy spotted a group of men packing the most heat smoking beneath a thatched roof nearby¨Cbolt-action rifles slung over their shoulders. Andy¡¯s Augmentation¡¯s Combat Conceptualisation drew his eye to the bulges beneath the cloaks of many others mixed into the crowd, the giveaway of small-arms beneath. If a fight broke out, a shot could come from anywhere, and though his Evasive Fire protocol would weigh the odds in his favour, Clara didn¡¯t have such a luxury. In the chaos, she might catch a stray, and besides, there were kids about, it wasn¡¯t their fault that their parents were batshit demon worshipers. It wouldn¡¯t be right to see them caught in the crossfire.


    ¡°As long as the payload doesn¡¯t leave our sight,¡± Clara said, ¡°we have options.¡±


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    Andy patted Julie¡¯s flank in her holster, consoling her. She was just as keen as Andy to see some more action, but they¡¯d both have to wait.


    The young women dressed in white robes walked down the line of cultists, inspecting their offerings.


    ¡°Get in line,¡± Clara said. ¡°Follow them. See where they¡¯re going. When you get a chance, grab the briefcase and get out.¡±


    Andy gazed up at the spooky castle¡¯s black spires, shrouding the clear starlight. ¡°I¡¯ve got to admit, I like your thinking.¡±


    ¡°Keep it professional,¡± Clara said. ¡°We don¡¯t know what¡¯s up there-¡±


    ¡°I can guess,¡± Andy grinned. ¡°Looking forward to meeting it.¡±


    ¡°Whatever¡¯s up there, we don¡¯t need to kill it,¡± Clara said. ¡°We just need the payload.¡±


    ¡°Fine. What¡¯s my offering?¡± Andy asked.


    ¡°To the priests?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    ¡°What if they don¡¯t let me in?¡±


    Clara shrugged. ¡°Say you¡¯re offering your revolver. You¡¯re not actually going to give them it.¡±


    ¡°Julie? I would never.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just for the show. Just to get in the castle. Once you¡¯ve retrieved the payload, radio in. I¡¯ll break Robert free, and we¡¯ll run for it.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Robert?¡± Andy asked.


    ¡°Be gone!¡± a woman shrieked from the queue by the gate. She threw a small object on the ground. It cracked on impact.


    ¡°No,¡± the young goth kid said, scurrying past her to pick up the pieces.


    The woman kicked him. Two more came to her aid, kicking and shooing him from the plaza. ¡°Unworthy,¡± they chanted.


    The kid scarpered. The rest of the cultists standing in line suddenly looked nervous.


    ¡°They might be a bit picky about offerings,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Okay then,¡± Clara said, unloading her backpack, handing Andy her wrist terminal from inside. ¡°Don¡¯t lose it.¡±


    ¡°What does this do?¡±


    ¡°Andy, it¡¯s my computer. It does everything. It¡¯s invaluable. I¡¯ve talked to you about it before, you know, it has my maps and-¡±


    ¡°I was joking sis.¡± Andy winked. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of your baby.¡±


    ¡°You best, or I¡¯ll have your balls.¡±


    ¡°Bit weird, but sure,¡± Andy said, turning to leave.


    ¡°Okay then¡­ If you lose my terminal, I¡¯ll sell your revolver to buy a new one,¡± Clara said.


    Andy stopped in his tracks. He held the mini computer a little tighter. ¡°In safe hands, sis. See you in a bit.¡±


    Andy crossed the courtyard, weaving through the crowd towards a block of spectators watching the proceedings. Withdrawing Julie from her leather holster, he pushed her muzzle down the back of his beltline so that she was concealed beneath his leather jacket. ¡°Sorry babe,¡± he whispered, then addressed the nearby goths. ¡°Excuse me.¡± He slithered through the cultists to stand at the back of the line, standing three spaces behind his target with the briefcase and waited his turn. Two more goths were ejected from the line, however with a little less fanfare than before. One of the young white-clad acolytes approached Andy. Her porcelain skin reflected the frail light of the candle flame, her chest and collar exposed to the moonlight. She had a stern expression. Andy held out the terminal for inspection.


    ¡°What does this do?¡± she asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s a computer. A really good one.¡±


    The girl looked puzzled. She waved a companion over to inspect the terminal together.


    ¡°Why would his horribleness desire such an antiquated device,¡± the other girl said.


    ¡°Maps,¡± Andy replied, trying to remember what else it was that Clara banged on about. ¡°It has video games. It has the original Doom installed.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure if that was true, but who didn¡¯t like Doom?


    ¡°Doom?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, blood and gore and killing.¡± Andy grinned.


    ¡°This will suffice.¡± The girl spun and returned to the entourage at the matriarch¡¯s heels. Once all of the acolytes had returned to her, the priestess spoke.


    ¡°Those of you whose gifts have been deemed worthy have passed the first test.¡± The costumed woman paced down the line, regarding each of them in turn. ¡°However, your ordeal has only just begun. Steel yourselves now, for the ghost train awaits.¡±


    The crowd in the courtyard murmured anxiously. He and the other gift bearers set off at a solemn pace, heading through the ornate gate and towards the castle at the cliff¡¯s peak. As the gate creaked closed behind him, Andy turned and gave Clara the thumbs up. The brim of her cap dipped as she nodded back.


    The path climbed steeply, narrowing as the cliff¡¯s edge closed in on either side. The castle rose before Andy, charcoal black towers stained with shadows, silhouetting the pale moonlit clouds above. The wind rustled through skeletal trees bordering the path, their branches outstretched like clawed fingers towards the troupe. Andy was flanked on either side by cultist women. They wore a perfume of spice that was distinct, but not exactly pleasant. Smoke from their candles wafted in the breeze, mingling with the perfume¨Cthe combined smell reminded Andy of a korma curry.


    At the castle¡¯s base, a huge door loomed above him. Stone gargoyles jeered down at him from high parapets. A platform rose before him, made from timber. A large gasoline generator grumbled in a shack beside the platform¨Cthe first generator which he¡¯d seen in the village. Steps upwards led to a row of carriages, each large enough for two men to sit inside. The cultists were embarking, while the girls stood in two neat lines and watched.


    A gale rushed over the clifftop, flicking the candlelight, snuffing many of the flames out. Mist sprayed Andy¡¯s cheeks as the current carried moisture from the expansive valley below. He zipped his leather jacked up until the grenades attached to his bandolier dug into his chest. Andy followed the others into the open-air train, approaching the rearmost carriage. It was fixed on tracks which ran towards the huge black door. The carriage was painted in bright varnished colours, bearing a werewolf¡¯s snarling face. Other carriages featured ghosts, devils, zombies and a mummy. A large sign behind the tracks read: ¡®DARE YOU ENTER DRAKAKULAR¡¯S LAIR?¡¯ It had the picture of a classical vampire baring its teeth, clawed hand clutching the ¡®D¡¯ on ¡®DARE¡¯.


    ¡°No way¡­ it¡¯s an actual ghost train?¡± Andy took a seat beside another cultist. The man clenched his jaw, clutching a satchel to his chest. Andy fitted Clara¡¯s wrist terminal around his arm, tightening the straps.


    A girl lowered a metal bar over his head and strapped him in. The cultist with the briefcase sat in the carriage in front of him. Andy glared at the back of his neck, hidden beneath long black hair. A killshot from this close would be the easiest thing in the world. Ahead, the first of the carriages set off towards the large black door, but instead of them opening, the carriages passed beneath a small black curtain that Andy hadn¡¯t noticed was there before. Andy grimaced. It was less epic than if the doors had opened. He hoped the whole ride didn¡¯t cut corners like that.


    With each admittance, a voice cackled at them from tinny speakers, then repeated the slogan ¡®Fresh blood for Drakaula.¡¯ After a moment, the second carriage set off leaving a wide gap between each pair of passengers. Last of all, Andy¡¯s cart jolted awake and trundled down the tracks. The cultist beside him shook his legs and whimpered.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay,¡± Andy said, slapping the fellow¡¯s knee encouragingly. ¡°They can¡¯t really hurt you, son.¡±


    The man looked at him, then at the black curtain. ¡°Yes then can.¡±


    ¡°Oh really?¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you had the dreams? Seen them at night?¡±


    ¡°Seen what?¡±


    ¡°The apparitions.¡± The man¡¯s voice trembled.


    The speakers crackled. ¡°Fresh blood for Drakaula.¡±


    The black curtain brushed over Andy¡¯s face. Blackness swallowed him. There was no breeze, no sense of space or movement. He could only hear the sound of their carriage on the tracks. It crawled one rung at a time. He leant back in his seat, gravity pulling him down. Julie dug into his hip, so he withdrew her from hiding and holstered her. They were climbing upwards, each click of the carriage sounded more laboured than the last, until his weight evened out and the carriage stopped clicking altogether.


    ¡°Oh lord, I can¡¯t,¡± his passenger said. ¡°Stop, I want to get off. Help!¡±


    With a roar, the carriage fell downwards. Leviathan jaws swallowed them whole and they raced down the throat of a monster.

 Chapter 21 - Ghost Train

    Andy lifted his arms and whooted as they flew through rings of LED lights, gaining speed until the rings began to blur into a single epileptic tube. Andy¡¯s arms shot back down and he clung to the railing as they were thrown left and right, then tipped upside down. His Combat Conceptualisation protocol was going haywire trying to keep track of his positioning, making his eye twitch and spasm. Beside him, his passenger wailed with each twist and turn, the screaming suppressed by the roar of wind in their faces.


    Finally, the carriage slowed and the tunnel opened up before them. Their carriage dipped through a doorway curtained with strands of white rags, like bandages. They rode into a dimly lit crypt, about ten metres off the floor. Yellow light glowed from lanterns sitting atop stone tombs and hanging from stone columns which stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Tombs were scattered across the floor in all shapes and sizes. Some clung upright against the walls like protruding windows into the realm of the dead. Andy leaned over the railings almost far enough to touch one of the crypts, then the ride turned aside. The tracks took them around the roof of a large mausoleum and down into the belly of the crypt. Something moved amongst the tombs to his left, drawing his eye. Andy narrowed his gaze, hand resting on Julie. Was it a rat? No, too big for that. A cultist watching them?


    A dark figure shot at him from his right. Andy drew Julie and fired with enhanced Killer Instinct. Woodchip and stuffing burst from the gunshot as a tinny voice groaned over a speaker. ¡°Join us in the underworld.¡±


    ¡°Whoa,¡± Andy breathed, clutching his chest. ¡°That got me there. Bloody hell.¡± He holstered Julie, a little embarrassed. The figure was dressed like a mummy, wrapped in bandages with booths hands outstretched towards the carriage, except now it had a hole where its head was.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± the passenger said. ¡°You¡¯ll anger him.¡±


    ¡°I thought it was real.¡±


    ¡°That one wasn¡¯t,¡± the man said shakily. ¡°But some are.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Andy was determined not to overreact again. He replaced the round he¡¯d wasted and put his hands firmly on the guardrail, passively observing the ride.


    Assessment: Threat level zero, his AI informed him. Target is innate, an imitation operated by hinge and spring mechanisms.


    ¡°Are you making fun of me?¡±


    Query comprehension error. Please repeat the question.


    ¡°What?¡± the passenger said. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Not you,¡± Andy said, tapping his skull. ¡°Private conversation mate.¡±


    Mummies rose out of the tombs around them, one at a time, until they filled the room, above and below them. The carriage climbed upwards, passing an upright tomb on the wall. Suddenly, the concrete cover slid down and mummy pounced from inside, groping for their carriage. His passenger screamed, but the mummy fell short before it hit their cart, twanging on a bungee cord disguised as a length of bandage. It was all pretty high tech as far as ghost trains went. Andy was impressed.


    Assessment: Threat level zero-


    ¡°Please don¡¯t do that every time,¡± Andy said. ¡°Let me suspend some disbelief.¡±


    They passed through a curtain and into another dark corridor. One by one, green lights flickered to life, illuminating the roof, leaving a trail of dots behind them. The sound of scampering feet ran beneath him on a series of speakers. The sound repeated itself quietly, accompanied by shrill chattering voices. The chattering suddenly cut off as they came close to the speakers emitting it, as though the creatures who watched them did not want to be detected. Andy smiled, appreciating the subtleties to the craftsmanship. Overall, it built a sense of paranoia and suspense which he let himself indulge in.


    Ahead, green lights illuminated a metal doorway. A sign above the doorway read: ¡®Dr Evil¡¯s Laboratory.¡¯ The carriage stopped at the top of a short decline before the doorway, suddenly quiet. They leant forward in their seats. Andy could hear the man beside him breathing heavily, and smell his sweat. Why did he have to be partnered up with such a crybaby?


    The sound of a fist rasping on metal rattled from a speaker three times. Knock. Knock. Knock.


    Silence.


    A claxon wailed. Andy jumped as a thudding noise sounded from behind them, like heavy bolts locking shut. All of the lights in the room suddenly turned red. Behind him, a beast¡¯s growl raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Andy and his companion twisted in their seats to look behind them. Somewhere in the dim light, some kind of large animal snarled, then roared and charged towards them. The sound of hooves stampeding over the carriage railings echoed down the length of the corridor, growing louder, surmounting like a cacophony of harsh drums. Behind them, the red lights along the corridor went out one at a time as the beast hurtled towards them. Andy¡¯s hand snapped to Julie, but he reminded himself that it wasn¡¯t real. Or was it?


    One by one, the lights went out, until the beast was upon them. The sound of its hooves clattering off the tracks was deafening. His partner shrieked and rattled the railing. Andy cursed, willing the cart to move. With a thought, he could activate his Augmentation, turn around and start shooting, but then he¡¯d be giving in to fear, and the ride would win. He wouldn¡¯t let that happen. The last of the red lights went out. All was black. The clamour engulfed them.


    Their cart lurched into action. The doors to ¡®Dr Evil¡¯s Lair¡¯ shot open before them, and they catapulted through. Wind rushed in Andy¡¯s face, and he whooped with relief.


    ¡°Fuck me, that was close!¡±


    The cart descended for a short while, then whirled back around on itself and rose steeply. His passenger wept softly in the quiet, mumbling gibberish to himself. Andy turned away from him, trying to imagine that the sobbing was all part of the ride so that it wouldn¡¯t break his immersion. All around them were glass cylinders, the like which reminded Andy of the Augmentation Master Console vats. Murky water filled the glass cylinders, bodies floated lifeless inside. Abominations, disfigured and faceless. One pressed a webbed hand to the glass. Tubes ran from the top of the cylinders above their heads like veins connecting to an artery. Ahead, over the lip of the incline, bright fluorescent light illuminated white walls.


    Atop the rise, the track evened out down a straight corridor. On either side of them was a row of hospital beds. Above each bed shone a tube light which spotlit the bed, casting sharp shadows between each fixture. The beds were occupied, bodies hidden beneath thin white sheets. As their carriage travelled deeper, Andy noticed that one of the beds was covered in blood. A hand stuck out from under the sheets, tied to the bed¡¯s railing by thick leather straps. Tools lay on a tray beside one bed¨Csaws, clamps, scalpels, syringes and a drill. As their carriage passed it, the light above the bed flickered and went out.


    Ahead, there were fewer working lights above the beds. Those he could see were covered in blood. The darkness grew about them. Something rustled beneath the shadowy sheets to his right. A groaning sound played over a hidden speaker.


    ¡°This is what happens to you if they catch you in your dreams,¡± the man beside him whispered. Sweat plastered his long black hair to his forehead. His eyes were wide and his lip was bleeding where he had bit it. ¡°This is where you wake up.¡±


    ¡°Ohh, spooky,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°It¡¯s real,¡± he said. ¡°My wife was taken one night. I never saw her again.¡±


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    The sincerity in his voice caused Andy to pause. He looked over the beds. That wasn¡¯t real blood, was it? The body twitching beneath the bedsheet did so in a mechanical fashion¨Cthree twitches, pause, rustle, three more. Or did he just spot a break in the routine? Was there some randomness to it? Could it be real?


    Something crashed in the dark. It sounded like a tray of tools being tipped over. A drill whirled behind them, boering into squeaking bone. Bodies squirmed in their beds beneath the sheets, moaning woefully, unable to escape their bounds and reveal themselves. It was creepy, but more low-key than the room before. A chance for people riding to have a breather.


    ¡°This is fun,¡± Andy said. ¡°So you guys built your whole civilisation around this fair ride?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I mean, that explains why you¡¯re all such goths.¡±


    The passenger frowned. ¡°We settled here as servants of the dark lord.¡±


    ¡°Oh, is he in the final room then?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡­ how don¡¯t you know that?¡±


    ¡°My first time,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°But everyone who has been initiated knows that.¡±


    ¡°Erm, I¡¯m uninitiated.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you here? Who are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d stop asking questions if I were you,¡± Andy said. It was the only warning he¡¯d give the man.


    The goth stared at him, mouth slightly agape, oblivious to the nightmarish scene around him.


    Strips of clear plastic draped over their carriage and their faces. The man was obscured from Andy¡¯s view for a second¨Cit was his only chance to potentially get the jump on Andy. But as they travelled out the other side, the man had returned his attention to the scene around them.


    Right choice, Andy thought.


    They were in a tower, the ride¡¯s tracks spiralled upwards just above the steps of a staircase. Paintings of regal figures donned the walls. Cages hung in the centre of the tower, chained together and hanging from one another like fishing lures on a colossal line. They swung absently on a draft which whistled through cracks in the walls. Skeletons occupied the cages, sometimes crammed in family units. Their limbs fell through the bars, sinew clinging to the joints like old thread.


    The ride ascended for minutes, circling around dozens of hanging cages, climbing the neck of the tower. The practical effects craftsmanship on the bodies was incredible. It was a miracle that this place had survived the cataclysm in such good condition. The cultists must maintain the ride regularly, which made sense given that they worshipped the place. One cage hung close to the cart. The body inside still had its flesh, rotting away a greenish grey. It stunk of decay. How could they emulate that effect? Had someone put rotting animal meat in the cage? No¡­ Andy held his breath.


    It was real.


    The tower¡¯s ceiling pressed upon them. A door above admitted them into a large room with a massive ornate window covering the back wall. A throne stood before the window on a red velvet dias. Sat on the velvet carpeted steps before the throne was the cultist matriarch wearing her large oval collar. Her legs were at her side, the cloak draped elegantly over her body. She gazed up at the figure in the throne, diminutive, like a child at the foot of her master. Slouching with his head in his chest was a decrepit old man, long and slender with dark flesh visible beneath an unbuttoned white shirt. He wore a cloak with a tall spiky collar that mimicked his pointed ears. His withered hands rested atop the armrest pomels, carved like bat¡¯s heads.


    Their carriage clicked in line, assembling the final piece of the train. A girl wearing a white bodice and dark cloak lifted the safety railing above his head and extended a hand to help him out. More of the acolytes were lighting a canopy of candles adorning the walls and chandeliers with long rods. Andy joined a line of cultists forming a semi-circle around the throne and placed his hands behind his back, drinking in the atmosphere.


    The full moon outside shone through the ornate window. On the far left, the colours of the glass were muddy yellow and gloomy green. They depicted a slender man slumbering in a tall tower. The colours transitioned through to blues and purples as the glass told a story. A bolt of lightning struck the tower, awakening the figure, transforming it with sinister energy. Its canines grew sharp, its ears pointed and nose diminished like a bat. Depicted below, the vampire descended on the village, a dark aura around it. People fled, maimed and tortured. A vagabond alone opposed the evil creature. They battled, but the vampire got the better of him, looming over him, razor claws clutching his neck. Flames licked its wicked face. It enslaved women, forcing them to return to the tower to be his concubines. Finally, in the bottom right of the painting, a lick of orange light rose to put an end to the mural.


    Andy looked around the room. The goth with the briefcase was standing two spaces away from him. Seeing the payload jolted Andy awake. Maybe it was the smell of the incense, or the allure of the ride, but he had become far too passive and relaxed. He was here to do a mission after all. Glancing around the room, Andy prepared his exit. Nobody seemed to be armed except him. There was no real rush, but why draw things out? If the ritual didn¡¯t kick into gear and get entertaining pretty soon, he¡¯d flick the switch in his brain and get the job done.


    The matriarch spoke softly to the figure sitting in the chair. The body looked weak, meagre. The flesh dropped on its face, sickly fingers poking out through a cloak too large for purpose. So this was their master? Not very scary after all. Andy wondered what their reaction would be if he put a bullet in its head now.


    Caution, his AI advised. Threat level unknown.


    ¡°Step forward,¡± the matriarch said. The first of the cultists in the semi-circle approached the throne nervously. He unravelled a blanket, inside which were a pile of ornate golden chalices and candlesticks, then stood before the throne offering a response.


    Their master¡¯s eyes remained closed. It didn¡¯t move. Had they really come all this way to present trinkets to a fair ride wax figure? The goth bowed his head and returned to his place in line.


    Andy looked at the carriages which they¡¯d rode in on. The front most carriage stood on tracks leading out the opposite side of the room. It was likely that the ride continued in a loop to the position where it started. That would be his way out. A lever beside the tracks held the brakes on, so he¡¯d have to flick that and jump inside, and hopefully the mechanisms would do the rest.


    ¡°Approach,¡± the matriarch said. Another cultist toddled towards the throne, holding a framed painting. He held it against his chest like a shield, displaying it for the seated lord.


    ¡°This is a painting I made of you, master.¡±


    ¡°Do not speak,¡± the matriarch hissed.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said.


    Suddenly, the figure in the throne shifted. ¡°A fair gift.¡± It lifted its head stiffly and squared its shoulders, sitting upright. ¡°Your power is potent.¡± Gazing down its long nose, the being opened its eyes. They were pure black, with a ring of silver around the edge, like a sun eclipsed by the moon. ¡°I thank thee for thy coming, Andrew.¡±


    Andy leapt into action, barging down the line towards his target with the briefcase. He drew Julie and shot the goth in the shoulder, nabbing the payload as it fell to the floor. Sprinting towards the carriages, Andy yanked the lever and hopped inside. The cart set off at a slow pace, clicking over the tracks. The cultists were stunned¨Csome ducked for cover while others huddled in groups, hands over their mouths in shock. They gawked at him and their lord, powerless to stop him as the cart wobbled into action.


    The vampire rose to its feet, seeming to swell in size. Its flesh transformed from dark grey to ash-white as it descended the dias steps one at a time. Its muscles rippled, filling out his cloak like squirting expanding foam into a plastic bag. ¡°Verily, I doth not bethink thou wilt be departing.¡±


    Alert: Threat level severe, his AI warned.


    Andy wasn¡¯t in the mood for negotiations. With Enhanced Precision, he shot the vampire in the heart. The shot turned the vampire¡¯s shoulder, but it kept approaching. Andy clenched his jaw and fired four more times, targeting its knees, hip and head. The cumulative impact finally knocked the vampire off its feet. It fell onto its back, lying in a pool of its silken cloaks, then rose on a dark energy. Its arms outspread, it levitated in the centre of the chamber as black fog spread beneath it like a mushroom cloud. Black smoke weeped from the wounds Julie had bore, slowly reconstituting it. A chunk of its skull which had been blown apart reassembled before Andy¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Come on.¡± Andy shook the guardrail, willing the ride to go faster.


    The cultists fled to the corners of the room, whimpering and clawing at the walls like rats trapped in a burning pit. The vampire extended a hand towards the matriarch cowering on the steps. A midnight-purple tendril shot forth, snatching her up with a puff of smoke. She screamed, but did not resist as the tendril ushered her towards the vampire¡¯s outstretched claw. Snatching her by the neck, the vampire appraised her. ¡°Thou has been the most wonderful servant.¡±


    Her eyes bulged, hot and white with terror and a plea for life.


    The vampire bit down on her neck. She screamed silently, her body twitching in his grasp, toes and fingers splayed, convulsing as he sucked her dry. The colour drained from her flesh, lending a luminescence to his. In seconds, she withered like a dried fruit, smoke emitting from her eyeballs and mouth, climbing towards the high ceiling. The vampire tossed her aside just as Andy¡¯s carriage travelled through a swinging doorway and into the fair ride beyond.


    ¡°Flee little rabbit.¡± The vampire¡¯s voice seemed to occupy the very walls. ¡°Yet swear this unto me. Ere all is done, thou shalt reveal thy true power.¡±

 Chapter 22 - Magic Bullet Theory

    Andy reloaded his revolver in the dark, regretting having not taken a headlamp for the mission. The carriage clicked on the tracks beneath him, echoing down the tunnel. Andy glanced back, but he couldn¡¯t see his hand in front of his face. He put the payload under the carriage seat and withdrew his hip flask from a breast pocket, taking a swig.


    ¡°How do I fight that thing?¡± he said to himself.


    Calculating.


    Andy paused. He¡¯d never asked his AI for help before, and he hadn¡¯t intended to now, but perhaps it could be of some use. ¡°Well?¡±


    Abilities insufficient.


    ¡°Fuck you, what¡¯s that supposed to mean, insufficient?¡±


    You possess limited variability in combat abilities. Cause: a lack of discipline and training. Enhance Augmentation potential through practice and experimentation. Synthesis with the serum required.


    ¡°Alright, rub it in.¡± Andy said. Of course the machine took now to lecture him, in his time of need. Opportunistic bitch.


    The air grew cold and moist with the smell of raw meat. Slowly, the space around him lit with a soft red light coming from bowl-like glass domes in the floor. Carcasses dangled from meat hooks all around him, concealing the depth of the room. There were humans, pigs, and other indiscernible creatures, all with their heads missing. Chains rattled in the distance. Something scraped across the floor.


    Andy gawked at the gore, sitting on the edge of his seat, Julie in one hand, his semi-automatic pistol in the other. The carriage was moving painfully slowly. He glanced behind him again. Nothing was pursuing. Ahead of him, one carcass swung on its hook as though it had been knocked. Footsteps thudded across the room. Suddenly, a carcass was thrown aside and some animalistic abomination threw itself at him. Andy fired once, allowing his Augmentation¡¯s Killer Instinct to guide his aim. He had a split second to observe the pig head on a man¡¯s fat body before chunks of its skull were splattering the fixtures behind it. A black cloud erupted from the wound, along with a spray of blood. Fake blood? Andy couldn¡¯t tell what was fake and what was real. Was the pig-man even a threat, or just another ghost train jump scare?


    Andy flicked his radio back on. ¡°Clara, I have the package. Leaving now.¡±


    ¡°Affirmative,¡± the radio crackled faintly. The signal was poor, interfered by the castle walls, but at least she got the message.


    Andy jolted as a second thud sounded. Another of the pig beasts barged through the hanging carcasses and onto the tracks behind him. Andy couldn¡¯t detect any spring mechanism or pulley system controlling it. The beast snorted and let out a blood curdling squeal. Andy swivelled in his seat and fired once with Enhanced Precision. The pig-thing tumbled into a heap on the tracks, a gaping hole in its eye socket. No gore left the wound, only a snaking trail of dark purple smoke.


    Andy could hear more of the beats running about the room, converging on his position, but the hanging carcasses blocked his line of sight. If anything burst into the open, Andy would only have a second or two to react before it reached his carriage.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go baby,¡± Andy said, hyping himself up. A metallic tang stung his tongue like biting into a chilli as his Augmentation kicked into gear, pumping him full of artificial steroids. ¡°You there, AI?¡±


    Processing threats.


    ¡°If there¡¯s an overdrive mode, turn it on now. I¡¯ll play along with whatever you¡¯ve got.¡±


    Three pig men crashed through the swinging carcasses ahead. They were all fat and bloated, the veins on their distended stomachs blue and bruised. They squealed and snuffed the air, pig heads freakishly large for their bodies. One of pig heads bore tusks, it held the weight of its head up with one arm, turning its beady eyes on his carriage. They charged at him, loping over the tracks, letting the weight of their heads carry them forwards. Andy¡¯s senses felt sharp, his aim was perfect. Firing each of his weapons in turn, he put three bullets through the skulls of his attackers. Their heads snapped back one by one, collapsing onto the tracks. Tendrils of dark purple smoke emanated from their wounds, dissipating in the cold air.


    The carriage collided with the bodies, abruptly slowing, struggling to push them out of the way. Leaving the payload where it was beneath his seat, Andy leapt out of the cart. The floor was made of corrugated metal. He considered running ahead without the carriage, but then remembered what the ghost train route was like on the way up the castle¨Csome of the track was like a rollercoaster. It would be hard to traverse on foot. He needed the carriage for the fast bits.


    A pig-man burst from cover opposite the tracks. Andy could see the patchwork stitching where wire knitted their pig¡¯s head to its bodies. Andy thrummed with energy as he channelled a Vortex Shot up through his feet, swirling in his chest, erupting through Julie as he pulled the trigger. The pigman was blown backwards by the surge, the carcasses around the beast swung on their hooks like they¡¯d just been punched by a heavyweight boxer. But then, to Andy¡¯s dismay, the pig-man rose again. One arm hung by a thread, stripping itself free of the beast¡¯s shoulder. The Vortex Shot had less impact than Andy had expected¨Cless than on hordes of zombies¨Cit had only made him less accurate.


    Alert: Newly activated capabilities require calibration at the Augmentation Master Console to achieve optimal functionality.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say sooner?¡±


    Error: Repetition detected.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get sassy with me.¡± Andy shot the injured pig-man between its eyes with his semi-automatic pistol. Each gunshot was like a dinner bell. The pounding of flesh pattered like hailstone all around him. Andy scrambled to remove the bodies blocking the track. They were soft and fleshy like real bodies. The carriage sped up as he removed them, then Andy grabbed the railing to hop back inside.


    Suddenly, he was picked off his feet. Flying backwards, his hip banged against the tracks as he hit the ground. Rolling to a kneeling position, Andy fired at the attacker, emptying Julie. He started reloading with one hand, but then another beast attacked him from a blind spot. Cold fingers closed around his neck. Ducking and weaving free, Andy flicked Julie¡¯s cylinder shut and fired two Vortex Shots. Each shockwave cleared some space, but the hanging carcasses absorbed most of the power, rattling on their chains. He had a moment to reload and think before the onslaught fell upon him like a tidal wave.


    A shot of rich, malty hormones rushed through his system as his Augmentation activated Evasive Fire protocol. Andy moved gracefully, like a plastic bag on the wind, senses heightened, reflexes invigorated. He fired his semi-automatic pistol in one hand, reloading Julie with his other. Cold flesh collided with him as he wove through the carcasses, trying to re-orientate himself to the carriages¡¯ tracks. A pig face appeared before him, bloodlust in its tiny pupils. It grasped for Andy, but he was too quick, ducking under the swipe and planting Julie to its temple. This close, the destination of Julie¡¯s muzzle was like a soft kiss against Andy¡¯s cheek. Smoky ruin replaced the pig¡¯s face as Julie blew a chunk out of its skull.


    Andy glided through the carcasses as the pig-men flailed for him, guided by his Augmentation¡¯s sharp persuasion, his Hitman abilities working in tandem, putting him in a trance-like flow state. Andy fired Reflex Shots left and right underarm, killing his attackers like a jazz drummer working his kit, slamming the snare, crashing the cymbals, viciously precise, seemingly random but inexplicably keeping time. Andy tossed three frag grenades at his feet. Each explosion shook the metal floor, silencing the thud and squeal of pursuers.


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    Falling into the open, red lights illuminated the carriage¡¯s tracks. Andy ran down the tracks after the carriage, but with nothing to hinder the mechanism, it was picking up speed. All around him, pig faces and fat bodies emerged from the meat locker. There were too many. He wasn¡¯t equipped for this. Discarding spent magazines, Andy focussed on those pig-men blocking his path. Behind him, the squealing multiplied, growing shrill, punctuated by the drum of heavy feet on metal.


    Andy reached the carriage and jumped into the seat. Ahead, the lights disappeared over an edge along with the tracks, while the hanging carcasses continued, suspended on the ceiling over the drop.


    Andy took a cold, calming breath, the sharp taste of his Marksman hormones flushing his system. Augmented enhanced perception marinated his brain, slowing time for his Combat Conceptualisation to operate. Turning around, he viewed the butchery like a scene from a movie he¡¯d seen a thousand times. About two dozen pig-men charged towards him. His semi-automatic pistol¡¯s magazine was half spent, but Julie¡¯s cylinder was full. There were more attackers than he had bullets, sprinting and stumbling on the tracks, making collateral kills impossible. One pig barged into another, sending it crashing to the floor. The fat beast heaved itself up and loped forward screaming, desperate not to be the last piggy to the dinner table.


    He was out of grenades. The carriage was too slow, they would reach him before it dropped off the edge. His Vortex Shot alone wouldn¡¯t cut it. He¡¯d have to make every bullet count.


    Attention: Accelerated configuration complete. Activating Marksman ability: Miraculous Ricochet.


    A line flashed before Andy¡¯s eyes like a bolt of electricity, drawing a dot-to-dot between three of the beast''s skulls. It disappeared almost immediately, but then a second line flashed, and a third, each seeming to emanate from him. Some of the lines were pale, while others were bright and demanding. Here, they commanded. Now.


    As he focussed on the dashing lines, ecstasy fizzled in his veins. Biological pistons pumped chemicals through his body, ice cold, like he¡¯d just jumped into a plunge-pool. Andy flicked his wrist towards one of the bolts and fired. Julie kicked in his hand, the air cracked around him. Like a skipping stone, a single .45 calibre round thudded once, twice, thrice, finding its mark. Three pig-men fell upon the tracks. The feeling was spectacular, like he had cheated reality, like he could guess any card in a deck or any number on roulette, and it would come up his, if only he went with the flow and picked the right time to draw.


    Andy breathed deeply, standing perfectly poised, wielding Julie and her playmate akimbo. His mind hummed like an engine. Another bolt sped from his purview. He snatched at it like a dog snapping at meat, firing once, felling two beasts. Carnage was his word. Cackling with glee, he sought the bolts, catching them at their brightest and pulling the trigger. He felt captivated by impulse, absent of thought. Only action. Only killing.


    Suddenly, the world beneath him lurched. Andy squatted in the carriage as it plummeted, shoving his pistol into his mouth and grabbing the guard railing not to be flung out. Julie stuck to his other hand like glue, their Deadly Attraction keeping her from going astray. With a gut-wrenching tug, the carriage lifted upwards. Something hit his ankle. Alarmed, he kicked it against the wall of the carriage, trapping it there. If he hadn¡¯t caught it with his foot, the briefcase would have flown out.


    The track beneath him twisted and turned before he had a chance to correct himself. Holstering Julie and his sidearm, Andy bent to grab the briefcase, but a surprise loop threw his arms in the air. The briefcase fell downwards, which for a brief moment looked like upwards. Andy only just grabbed it by the handle with his pinky finger. He groaned in pain as the weight of the briefcase tore the ligaments in his hand as the ride threw him this way and that, struggling to bend his other fingers around the handle for a better grip.


    The carriage broke abruptly. Andy fell into the footwell, his feet above him. The payload banged into his chest. Winded, he climbed upright and looked around.


    A veil of inky blackness surrounded him as the carriage waded through a tunnel of liquid. The substance gurgled, sending ripples through the room. Pale blue light danced up the walls and ceiling, disturbed by the carriage¡¯s path.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Andy said, rubbing his elbow where he banged it. ¡°What did I do back there?¡±


    Conducted analysis of projectile behaviour post-impact on target extremities. Conclusion: Significant potential energy is dissipated due to non-utilization of residual projectiles or fragments following initial target neutralisation. This augmentation incorporates trajectory identification protocols, providing the user with real-time ricochet potential visualisation.


    Expedited installation of Marksman Augmentation ability: Miraculous Ricochet.


    ¡°Oh, so it¡¯s like the magic bullet theory?¡±


    Negative. The projectile lacks magical properties. The functionality is derived from mathematical algorithms and anatomical accuracy.


    ¡°No, the magic bullet theory,¡± Andy persisted. ¡°The JFK assassination. You must know about that? You were made by the governments, right? Had access to all their secret files? Downloaded the entire internet?¡±


    Andy looked around the room while his AI computed a response. It was quiet, almost alluring. The liquid was still. The only ripples made were those from his carriage, heading outwards on tiny waves, announcing his presence to the tunnel beyond.


    Error: Query computation failure.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a query, robot. I¡¯m telling you, this ability is just like the magic bullet that supposedly killed JFK. Apparently, the sniper shot him from the back of his head, but the bullet bounced around his skull and exited out the left. The same as what I was doing to those pig things.¡±


    There was no response.


    ¡°It was a whole cover up. They framed Oswald. You can see it in the video.¡± Andy slapped his skull. ¡°Back and to the left. I know you had access to government files while you were being created¨Cprobably downloaded the entire internet too. You seriously don¡¯t know what I¡¯m talking about?¡±


    Ripples approached from afar, contending with those emitted by the carriage, creating small splashes and waves. Something moved in the water ahead of him.


    Proceed to an Augmentation Master Console to calibrate modifications applied to my software and your DNA.


    ¡°Quit reading from a script. Be real with me, for once.¡±


    Something breached the water¨Cspines on a serpent¡¯s back. It sent waves towards his carriage. Then a head broke the inky water before his carriage. Its eyes were large and sharp, its long snout cut into a snarl. Andy watched the monster approach, but his mind was elsewhere.


    ¡°You know what I¡¯m talking about. Just give me something, call it a sign of trust. Go on, tell me something really juicy. How did the cataclysm happen? Do you know that one?¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll start a little easier. Who built the pyramids? Was it aliens? Was the moon landing faked? How really killed JFK? No, I¡¯ve got one better¡­ Who really killed Kurt Cobain?¡±


    The serpent rose before him, jaws wide. A row of knife-blade teeth sparkled as the inky black waters drained from its mouth. Andy planted his feet in the footwell of the carriage and fired a Vortex Shot the moment it plunged at him. Julie¡¯s blast knocked it back into the waters with a splash. Andy fired again into the back of its skull, emptying Julie into its brains. Black smoke emanated from the punctures, and it sank back beneath the waters.


    ¡°I¡¯m not your puppet,¡± Andy continued. ¡°You¡¯re my Augmentation, you¡¯re in my body. You will obey me.¡±


    Removing low-priority classified restrictions. Andy listened intently, reloading Julie slowly, holding his breath. Data indicates that the moon is artificial in nature. The probability of a solar eclipse occurring by chance is estimated at one in 10^30,000,000. Additionally, energy anomalies recorded during the eclipse are correlated with cataclysmic events.


    ¡°Wait, let me get this straight.¡± Andy licked his lips. ¡°So the moon landing wasn¡¯t faked, but the moon is?¡±


    Data indicates affirmative.


    ¡°Cool.¡± Andy nodded, contemplating it. ¡°Yeah, you know what, that¡¯ll do. I¡¯m satisfied.¡±


    The carriage rose out of the liquid, inky fluid dripping into the scaffolding tracks below. He caught a glimpse of moonlight through an ornate window beside the tracks, then his ride plunged down a tunnel. Andy grabbed the railing tightly, holding the payload in his other. The wind rushed in his face, howling in his ears. Creatures flew at him¨Cbats chirping and colliding with the carriage. He ducked out of the way as ghostly white sheets flapped overhead. They moaned at him, icy cold, freezing his fingertips where they brushed over his gloved hands, before being wisped away. Were they real? Was any of it real? Andy had lost track.


    A fat hairy spider fell into the carriage with him. Andy stomped on it with a crunch. Then, with a sickening feeling in his stomach, the tracks heaved upwards, evening out and turning a corner. The smell of damp mud and weathered brickwork filled his nostrils. He was outside again. Moonlight lit the staging platform where the tracks had started their journey up the castle. He hopped out of the carriage before it could roll to a halt and radioed in Clara.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got the payload. Think I awoke the boss man. How¡¯s it going on your end?¡±


    There was no response.


    ¡°Clara, you there?¡±


    ¡°Andy.¡± Her voice sounded apprehensive. Andy held his breath for more, not wanting to clog the airwaves. ¡°I¡¯m about to do something insane. Get to the square now.¡±

 Chapter 23 - Pandamonium

    Clara released the radio switch and drifted to the back of the congregation, unshouldering her bat-wing backpack, searching for something inside.


    ¡°All manner of beasts must sacrifice their bodies for their superiors to feast.¡± The cultist priest was giving his speech beside the prisoner¡¯s hanging cage. ¡°Just as the chicken offers its egg, the cow offers its milk, so too must we offer our blood to our lord.¡±


    More cultists placed buckets beneath the cage. One held a pitchfork, his head was draped in a black fabric, concealing his face.


    ¡°Tonight is a blessed full moon, for one of our kin need not relinquish their life¡¯s manor. A man from the barrenlands was captured by Dusk and Damien. Well done boys.¡± The priest clapped softly for two young men stood at the front of the congregation. They raised their chins proudly as others joined with the polite applause.


    ¡°Fuck ya¡¯ll,¡± Robert spat, rattling the bars. The priest looked up at him with disdain.


    Clara had to create a distraction if she was going to rescue Robert from the cage. She withdrew a flare from her bag and darted around the side of the nearest hut. All of the townspeople¡¯s attention was on the ritual, so nobody noticed as she threw the flare onto the thatched roof and rejoined the congregation.


    ¡°Pikeman, are your bucketeers ready?¡±


    The goth holding the pitchfork nodded as three of his comrades lifted buckets above their heads, poised beneath the cage. Their long black hair was tied in buns beneath hair nets and they wore large rubber gardening gloves. The pikeman stabbed Robert through the cage, the pitchfork jamming against the bars. Its three freshly sharpened tips shone silver against the rest of the rusted metal fork. Robert tried to climb the cage above them, arching his back against the roof. The goth jammed the pitchfork in sidelong, it slid through the cage bars and struck Robert in the arm, cutting him. A primal terror blanched his face. His eyes bulged and he made a sound like a pinned dog.


    ¡°Please, stop! God.¡±


    ¡°Fire,¡± Clara yelled. The flare smouldered on the wet thatch, but had yet to take light. It emitted a pinkish red light, which she hoped others would mistake for flames. ¡°Fire! Don¡¯t let it spread. Quickly.¡± She screamed, trying to sell the sense of panic.


    A few men broke away at the rear of the group to inspect the roof. Finally, the flare ignited and flames licked the roof. The smell of smoke seemed to change something in the onlookers. They darted this way and that, some ran inside nearby houses to ferry possessions outside, others helped with buckets of water.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to spread,¡± Clara yelled, before turning on the bucketeers. ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there, help. You have buckets.¡±


    The goths nodded. The youngest of them couldn¡¯t have been older than fourteen¨Ca boy with waist length black hair and a white vest held together by safety pins, decorated in blood stains. The boy looked solemnly up at Robert, who was clutching the cut on his arm, blood oozing through his fingers. A drop landed in the young goth¡¯s bucket. His face lit up with glee, and he lifted the bucket up to the cage for more.


    ¡°Begone,¡± Clara yelled, imitating the cultist¡¯s dramatic speech. Behind them, the fire had spread, smoke billowed in clouds over the courtyard. Some goths had climbed onto the roof, receiving buckets from those below to put out the flames.


    Clara dug around in her rucksack for the powered bolt cutters she¡¯d brought, but it was stuffed so full of gear, it was hard to rummage around in the dark without spilling stuff everywhere.


    ¡°Damn, what inconvenient timing.¡± The pikeman stood by her side. He lifted his veil, revealing a familiar face: the young man from the pub earlier that day. ¡°Hey,¡± Carrion said. ¡°Can you believe they picked me for pike duty?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe that, no,¡± Clara said monotone. ¡°Carrion, go help the others with the fire.¡±


    ¡°How could I help? Better I remain here, so as not to impede on their efforts.¡±


    Clara bit her tongue. The fire would be put out soon. Andy would be here any second with the payload. If she was going to rescue Robert, it would have to be now.


    She retrieved the bolt cutters from her bag and handed them to Robert. He snatched them up between the bars and got working on the padlock. Clara stared Carrion dead in the eye. ¡°Fat thighs, eh?¡±


    The young goth looked stunned. His eyes narrowed on the bolt cutters, mouth moving like a fish gasping for air. ¡°What¡­ Did you just¡­ The prisoner?¡±


    ¡°Carrion,¡± Clara said. ¡°Walk away, right now.¡±


    The padlock snapped and fell beside her, clanging off the cobblestone. The cage above them creaked as Robert climbed through the hatch. Carrion¡¯s eyes went wide. He stepped backwards, pointing at Clara with his pitchfork. ¡°Traitors!¡±


    Clara fired her pistol from the hip. Her cloak fluttered as the bullet punctured it, killing Carrion. He fell down, stiff. Cultists turned towards the commotion, and within seconds, a circle had opened up around Clara, and Carrion¡¯s corpse on the cobblestone. Somebody screamed, then Robert thudded beside her, falling to his knees. Clara spun around, throwing her cloak over Robert and heaving him up. They fled together, barging through the frantic crowd.


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    The crack of a rifle rang out above their heads. Clara let go of Robert, slinging her submachine gun around, spraying bullets into the air. Pandamonium seized the courtyard as bullets sped above the congregation''s heads. Men and women fled for cover. An elderly woman fell into a puddle, clutching her leg. Dogs barked on leashes, doors slammed shut.


    Four men wearing leather jackets stood out in the moonlight, pushing through the fleeing crowd towards her. They were each armed with old rifles, like cricket bats with barrels. Clara took aim, but there were too many civilians around them. She couldn¡¯t get a clean shot. Instead, she aimed at their feet, spraying the cobblestone with shrapnell. The riflemen jumped for cover, one rolled on the ground and went prone.


    Clara dashed for Robert, he was limping down the road. She caught him under the arm and pulled him along. They ducked as bullets thudded into the house beside them. The road dipped downwards, out of sight of the courtyard, and out of the line of fire. Their jeep was parked a mile outside of town off a dirt path. Originally, she had intended to escape with Andy, running full-pelt. It wasn¡¯t a perfect plan, but it had worked before. She hadn¡¯t accounted for Robert. He was heavy, too injured to take his own weight. He slipped in the mud of a drain and fell. Clara let him go, not to be dragged down with him. She replaced her gun¡¯s magazine, slipping the empty into her belt as she took cover behind the stairs of a porch. Peaking above the steps, she scanned the road behind them.


    Robert cursed. ¡°Jesus Christ, I¡¯m covered in shit.¡± He crawled towards her. ¡°Water.¡±


    Clara had prepared a bottle, which she threw to him. He crawled into cover beside her and gulped it down.


    A shot splintered the beams above her head. She ducked, trying to sight the shooter. More muzzles flashed from the buildings across the street, spitting bullets into the house behind them. Their attackers had multiplied. Gunshots pelted their cover one after another. ¡°Perish, heathens,¡± someone screamed. Clara had been in enough firefights to sense what was happening. An overzealous goth charged their position. When people smelled victory, they attacked like dogs, abandoning reason for madness. Clara didn¡¯t wait for him to flank them, she snapped out of cover and fired a quick burst, then ducked back behind the steps. The boy skidded across the cobblestones, his rifle tumbling down the road after him. He wailed his regrets.


    The high pitched whistle of a near death experience whizzed passed her head and slammed into the porch railing behind her. Clara ducked, holding her limbs to her chest. She panted, scanning the road downhill for cover. There was an alleyway two buildings down. If she could get to it, maybe she could hop garden fences and get lost in the village. But that meant leaving Robert behind. She shared a glance with the man; he was a merc too, he knew the deal.


    ¡°Cover me,¡± she said.


    Robert¡¯s expression sank. He gritted his teeth, then nodded. ¡°Better to die free.¡±


    Clara handed a sidearm to Robert¨Ca small .45 calibre pistol. ¡°Good luck,¡± she said.


    A cannon boomed in the streets above them. It rang six times. What followed was silence. Clara crouched out of cover, submachine gun at the ready.


    Andy stood above the boy whom she had shot in the street. He carried a silver briefcase in one hand, holstering his revolver and drawing a sidearm in the other. The boy beneath him clutched his guts, holding a palm up to Andy as though he was trying to keep the void night sky at bay. Clara looked away and shut her eyes, she knew what came next.


    A gunshot thudded. ¡°Hey sis,¡± Andy said. ¡°You won¡¯t believe what crazy shit was in that castle. There was a ghost train, and mummies and this creepy hospital area with bodies wriggling under the blankets.¡± He strode over to them, swinging the briefcase merrily. ¡°And there were these pig people with prosthetic heads, but I couldn¡¯t tell if their bodies were real or not. And this cool serpent in the water. Oh Clara, you¡¯d have loved it. We¡¯ve got to come back here some time.¡±


    Clara helped Robert up and started down the path. ¡°Andy, concentrate. Did you fight the demon?¡±


    ¡°Erm, you mean the vampire? Drakaula, with a ¡®K¡¯.¡±


    ¡°I mean whatever the fuck these black jean wearing eyeliner motherfuckers are worshipping.¡±


    ¡°Alright, calm down.¡±


    ¡°I almost got shot, Andy. You calm down.¡±


    They turned down the path heading out of town. Ahead, on their left stood the Crypt Inn. No lights were on inside the building, it seemed the whole town was out for the festival. Two vans were parked by the roadside. Clara withdrew a combat knife and stabbed the wheels on each. They hissed and began deflating.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t fight the big D,¡± Andy said. ¡°But I think we¡¯ll get the opportunity to soon.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°He knows my name, and also¡­¡± Andy pointed at the castle. Purple smoky tendrils swirled around the central spire, rising to the sky. They parted the clouds above, creating a funnel for the moonlight, which seemed amplified by whatever magic the demon, or vampire, possessed, like a silver spotlight from the heavens.


    ¡°What the¡­¡± Clara murmured. Rifle fire crackled form the village. She saw a man run into the cover of a fence, another ran across the road into a doorway. Clara darted into a ditch at the side of the road with Robert, aiming down the street with her submachine gun. She was too far, and it was too dark to line up a shot. Meanwhile, Andy stood in the centre of the street, his long black hair blowing carelessly in the wind. He raised his pistol slowly, shifting one foot forward into a firing stance.


    A bullet flew between Clara and him. ¡°Andy, take cover,¡± Clara said.


    The barrel of his pistol flashed. Andy moved his arm one degree to the left and fired again. A scream responded.


    ¡°Dammit, winged him,¡± Andy said. He fired twice more. ¡°Ah, never mind.¡± Turning, he saw them in the mud and smirked. ¡°Bit of an overreaction, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°You have no idea how close I came to eating a bullet earlier.¡± Clara climbed out of the ditch and offered a hand to Robert.


    ¡°Is he going to slow us down the entire way?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Get me out of this,¡± Robert croaked, ¡°and I¡¯ll repay you. I promise. Mercenary''s honour¡±


    ¡°Well there we go,¡± Andy said. ¡°That¡¯s all I needed to hear. Come on then slowpoke, the jeep¡¯s this way.¡±

 Chapter 24 - Vampire Logic

    Clara strapped her wrist terminal back on and flicked the screen to display a map. Before departing for the mission, she had saved directions to the nearest motorway. The sooner they got off country roads and onto something straight and concrete, the better. Their jeep kicked up dirt as she wove around the path of a fallen tree, nearing the cliff¡¯s edge. The night was dark, but silver shone in the puddles beside the road and winked in the water droplets on her wing mirrors. It was as though the moonlight had sprinkled glitter in the atmosphere, she¡¯d never seen anything like it before. Clara hoped it was just her adrenaline playing tricks on her.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Linton asked. He was clutching the briefcase which Andy had rescued, containing his precious technology.


    ¡°Nearest motorway,¡± she said. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter which direction. We need to put some distance between us and the goths.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Fill this,¡± Andy said, handing him a magazine and a box of rounds. He was sitting on the central back seat, refilling spent magazines from boxes of ammunition. The two scientists on either side of him, and Robert rode up front.The merc was tucking into a first aid kit, bandaging the worst of his wounds. He moved sleepily as his breathing got heavier. The painkillers must be taking effect.


    Clara slowed as she drove down a narrow country path, checking the wing mirrors for pursuers. THey were clear for now. Ahead, the path ran onto a two-lane road, winding through hilly country. Mist on the road shone like ice in her full beams, but the night wasn¡¯t that cold. Wind whistled through the cracks in their windows due to their recent battles. Her CD spun in the player, quietly accompanying the wind. Clara didn¡¯t have to look to tell it was track four, about twenty seconds in, though the player never displayed the song names. Humming the tune, she took the jeep out of gear down a long hill to conserve fuel, then revved it back up the other side.


    ¡°Good girl,¡± she said, patting the dashboard.


    ¡°There¡¯s lights over there,¡± Riddhi said. She was staring out the rear window. ¡°Something¡¯s coming.¡±


    Clara watched the yellow glow of headlights jitter towards them, peeking through gaps in the roadside foliage behind them. ¡°Are you reloaded Andy?¡±


    ¡°Rifle¡¯s full,¡± he said. ¡°Too full, if you ask me.¡±


    The sound of engines rose and fell throughout the hillside, coming closer. Clara focussed on the road ahead of her. She had her job, Andy had his.


    ¡°Get the windows down,¡± Andy said. The scientists obeyed. Andy climbed over Riddhi and leant out, his long black hair streaming in the wind as he took aim. The dot of a headlight wavered on the road behind them, then solidified as it came into full view. Clara heard the engine growl as it sped towards them, three more joining behind it. Andy fired twice. One of the lights veered to the side, but kept coming.


    ¡°Dammit,¡± he said, climbing over Riddhi and Linton to get to the window on the opposite side.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, are we in your way?¡± Linton said.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°What are they?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Motorbikes, all of them. I might get on the roof.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Machine gun¡¯s up there.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have no cover, that¡¯s insane.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but ten times the firepower.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not slowing down.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter, I can make the climb.¡± Andy leaned out of the window.


    Clara swerved around a bend to emphasise her point. ¡°Do not climb on that roof.¡±


    ¡°Fuc-¡± Andy held down the trigger of his assault rifle and his tirade of cursing was drowned out by the racket of gunfire.


    The goths returned fire, approaching at speed. A burst of shots pinged off the driver¡¯s side roof. Clara glanced in her mirrors, trying to tell how many motorbikes pursued them. She counted five headlights before her wing mirror exploded into shards, two bullets ripping it off its hinges. It hung on by a thin wire, rattling against the door as she bumped down the road.


    Andy climbed on top of Linton and shot out of the rear window. Glass shattered as a yellow light blazed through their jeep, throwing shadows before her eyes. For a moment, the sounds of gunshots were deafening, then Clara saw two lights veer off and crash by the roadside.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± Andy shouted.


    The lights dimmed as the remaining bikes fell back, but the rhythmic thud of gunshots still harried them. Andy climbed into the boot and started taking choice shots at their pursuers. Another light went out, and the shots stopped coming. The cultists retreated, putting the bends of the road between them and Andy¡¯s rifle.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be on the motorway soon,¡± Clara said. ¡°They can tail us all night if they want.¡±


    ¡°Where are we heading?¡± Linton asked again.


    ¡°Somewhere,¡± Clara snapped. Truth was, she must have taken a wrong turn, because her compass indicated they were heading north. She had hoped to take a fast road back west and gun it for the safety of Quadra, but right now, evading the motorbike cultists was their priority. Once they were in the clear, she¡¯d check her maps and draw a route back.


    Clara looked out of the window. The sky was overcast with a strange purple cloud, like bloated dead flesh. It blotted out the stars, all but the moon, which shone upon the landscape ahead of them. Clara checked her map. They¡¯d have to pass nearby the moonlight to reach the motorway. The closer they drove to the moonbeam, the more concentrated it seemed to get, as though someone was winding the focus filter on a titanic spotlight.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Linton asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Clara said. ¡°Andy?¡±


    ¡°Moonlight.¡±


    ¡°No shit.¡± Clara followed the road around a wide bend and down a verge onto the motorway. Three lanes opened up on either side, separated by a steel barricade. Abandoned cars dotted the motorway, but it was nothing she wasn¡¯t used to. Picking up speed, she took a swig of water, feeling calmer in the absence of gunfire.


    ¡°Okay, so what do you know about this vampire then?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Well, my AI seems to think it¡¯s powerful,¡± Andy said. ¡°Threat Level: Severe. Haven¡¯t heard that since I necked a bottle of moonshine to win a bet in the Underbelly.¡±


    Robert laughed meagerly. ¡°Tarik¡¯s stuff?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the one.¡±


    ¡°A whole bottle? Yeah right.¡±


    ¡°Wanna bet?¡± Andy raised an eyebrow.


    Robert¡¯s grin widened across his swollen face. ¡°Sure, once we get back.¡±


    The mist on the road cleared as the wind picked up, wiping clean the glittery sheen. Debris blew across the road ahead of her. A storm was brewing. ¡°What powers did he have? We still might have to fight him, tonight or tomorrow. I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Right, well¡­¡± Andy leaned over the backseats from the boot, resting his chin on his arms. ¡°He woke up, and straight away ate someone. It seemed to make him stronger. Obvious stuff really. Vampire logic.¡± Andy shrugged. ¡°Weaknesses: Garlic, holy water, silver bullets. Strengths: Superhuman speed, strength, agility, fortitude, intellect, eccetera. Some mystical voodoo powers too. I think he was operating the monsters in the ghost train, possessing them with a will to kill me. I was shooting them, and some of them had flesh, but some were still dummies¨Cmechanical constructs and practical effects. But either way, they were all smoking with this black purple stuff. Kind of like the sky right now, actually.¡± Andy glanced out the window. ¡°I hope he can¡¯t possess the entire sky. Imagine if a big mouth just opened up and ate us.¡± He spread his hands like jaws and made a chomping sound. Linton shrunk back in his seat.


    ¡°How do you know all of this about vampires?¡± Riddhi asked.


    ¡°Experience,¡± he said. ¡°And pop-culture.¡±


    ¡°Pop-culture?¡±


    ¡°Movies, books, comics.¡±


    ¡°Is that stuff accurate?¡± she asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s often a good basis,¡± Clara said. ¡°Something to go off.¡±


    The wind picked up again, blowing down her neck from the smashed rear window, wailing through the cracks in the glass. She hadn¡¯t noticed before, but it seemed like it flowed towards the patch of cylinder of moonlight, cast from the sky. As she watched, the moonlight emerged at the eye of a storm.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Linton said.


    ¡°The devil,¡± Riddhi whined, rubbing the bangles around her wrists, lifting her feet to her chest. ¡°He is here.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Damn.¡± Robert leaned over, peering through the patchwork of duct tape and broken glass that served as their front window. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen that before.¡±


    ¡°Me neither,¡± Clara said.


    Dark clouds spun around a silver centrepoint twisting the light into a tighter beam, funnelling it through tendrils of black purple shadows like gargantuan snakes, writhing towards the earth. It looked like an invasion from the heavens, like a satanic reckoning. The snakes reached the earth and the moonlight narrowed to a blade of silver, too bright to look at directly. Something glanced their jeep¨Can obstacle in the road. Clara was reluctant to slow down, but desperate to keep an eye on the sky. She squinted at the silver blade, checking the road frequently. Then the wind stopped. Only the sound of their engine remained.


    Linton held the payload tightly against his chest. ¡°I think-¡±


    A subsonic boom rattled the jeep; Clara felt it reverberate deep in her organs. It began to rain, then within seconds, mud pelted their jeep. Clara put the wipers on full, but the downpour was too heavy to see further than a few metres ahead of her. The very air seemed to rattle with energy. Linton was hyperventilating in the back seat. Riddhi held his hand and spoke to him softly. The downpour ebbed. Clara checked the sky. The moonlight was gone and the storm clouds with it. A touch of pale blue kissed the sky.


    Clara jumped as thunder boomed above them, then floored the gas. Andy responded with a hail of gunfire, shooting out the back of the boot. Clara glanced in her mirrors, trying to spot what he was shooting at, but couldn¡¯t take her eyes off the road. Clara counted the shots, expecting him to stop. Andy was deadly accurate, it normally only took one or two bullets to do the job, but he didn¡¯t pause before his magazine was empty, then he loaded another.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s here.¡±


    Gunfire cracked from the boot. Clara hit the brakes and swerved around a pileup of abandoned cars. One lane was stacked full of lorries from bumper to bumper, penning them in between the steel barricade. The traffic worsened abruptly. Clara prayed that there was a route through the motorway. She slowed to 30mph, navigating wreckages. Their jeep¡¯s tires crunched over glass. She slammed through a rusted car door blocking their way. It snapped clean off its hinges.


    ¡°I need more firepower,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°The roof?¡± Clara couldn¡¯t believe she was suggesting it.


    A shadow loomed above them, so dark that it dimmed their headlights. Clara squinted, swerving around a discarded motorbike in the middle of the road. There was an exit on the motorway ahead. She aimed towards it, hoping the traffic would be better wherever it led.


    Sparks erupted as something slammed into their jeep. Clara fought to keep the wheel steady. The darkness was all around them now. She struggled to see where she was going.


    Andy fired his revolver from the boot. Each shot was like a whip-crack of lightning, propelling a vortex of energy from the muzzle. It pushed the darkness back. She could see the road again. Something shrieked in the sky behind them, then sparks erupted from the shattered passenger window. Robert shielded his eyes, raising the pistol Clara had given him and firing blindly out of the window.


    A dagger of silver light pierced the boot beside Andy¡¯s face. It staggered the jeep, dropping their speed abruptly. Clara swerved. The engine choked and the wheel was yanked from her hands. Clara pulled the gear stick into neutral so that the jeep wouldn¡¯t stall, but then they hit a roadside barrier and lurched upwards.


    Clara was picked out of her seat and her head hit the roof. The jeep slammed back down and bounced to a stop at the top of a grassy verge. ¡°Seatbelts,¡± she shouted, jamming the gear stick into second and throttling the gas. She wrapped her arms around the steering wheel and gritted her teeth, launching them down a grassy verge. Tall weeds churned under their wheels and vegetation battered against the windscreen as they plummeted. The bonet clanged like a rusty bell as it scraped against concrete on the other side and they broke the weeds, bounding into a car park.


    Clara put the pedal to the metal. The wheels spun stationary for a moment before they bit the road and accelerated.. Something ground under her feet as she climbed the gears. The sky above them was growing lighter. The sun would rise soon. It had to.


    A flood of purple tendrils swam under their car until it seemed like they were driving on the surface of an inky lake. Clara pulled the wheel down, tensing her bicep as the tires screeched to the side. For a moment, she saw the road beneath them again, but then the tendrils caught up, chasing them. She wove again but was met by a wall of blackness. Suddenly, there was no road, no sky. Nothing in sight. The engine revved, inertia pushed her back into her seat, but it looked as though they were driving through a void.


    A silver bolt of lightning struck the engine. It was like slamming into a wall. The jeep flipped. Everyone screamed. Air bags inflated. Clara clung to the door handle, bracing one arm against the roof, being thrown around like a doll. Miraculously, the jeep rolled upright, teetering to a stop on two wheels, then fell down, bouncing on its suspension. The darkness around them dissipated. Clara panted, mentally checking herself for injuries. She looked at her shaking hands, one felt sprained, but she wasn¡¯t bleeding. She turned around. Andy was already climbing over Riddhi to get out the door.


    ¡°Everyone good?¡± Clara asked. Robert was unresponsive. The two scientists in the back were shocked. Linton¡¯s face was paralysed in shock. He gritted his teeth, eyes wide, like a death grin.


    Clara shouldered her door open and stumbled onto the concrete. How had the void appeared and vanished so quickly? What power was this? She had never heard anything like it. Fear touched her heart, but she forced herself to move on wobbly knees, running around to the passenger side and opening the door for Robert. He slouched into her arms unconscious. Clara undid his belt and dragged him out of the jeep, then took stock of their surroundings. They were in a large, mostly empty car park. There was a huge shopping complex at the head of the lot. That was the closest source of cover. They would run there.


    A few paces from the jeep, Andy fired his rifle. Clara didn¡¯t dare turn around to look at what he was shooting at. She knew it was close, deadly, but she had a job to do. She reached inside the jeep and pulled Linton outside onto his feet. Riddhi climbed after him and knelt at Robert¡¯s side, helping the merc to his feet.


    ¡°The shopping mall,¡± Clara said. ¡°Go.¡± She turned her attention to Andy. He was taking pot shots at a spot of darkness floating above the grassy verge which they had driven down. Shaped like a drop of blood, a purple sheen shone over its slick surface. Smoke emanated from it, spreading outwards like the wings of a gargantuan bat. The dark tendrils which had swamped their jeep were pulling away, feeding into the bloodrop form, filling its depths.


    Clara¡¯s breath caught in her throat. A rush of blood flooded her head. She stumbled, dizzy, then planted her feet and raised her submachine gun. ¡°Andy, let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    The bloodrop shuddered as Andy shot it, spraying blackness out of its rear. The retracting tentacles slowed, but did not stop. Silently, it beheld them, a monstrous black eye.


    ¡°Quickly,¡± she shouted.


    ¡°There¡¯s no running,¡± Andy¡¯s rifle clicked dry. He slung it over his shoulder and jumped onto their jeep, climbing onto the roof.


    ¡°We can get to cover,¡± Clara said. She glanced at their companions, they were halfway to the shopping complex now. Another thirty seconds and they could get inside, if the entrance wasn¡¯t locked. But then what? She looked at the bloodrop. It was about fifty metres away, looming over the carpark, sucking the last of its tendrils into its form.


    Andy cursed. ¡°It¡¯s stuck.¡± He was trying to spin the heavy machine gun mounted on the roof to face the bloodrop, but the swivel joint was damaged. Andy braced and tried to tug it free, but it wouldn¡¯t budge.


    ¡°It¡¯s not worth it. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°You want a fight?¡± Andy screamed, drawing his revolver and firing three times into the bolts where Clara had fixed the tripod to the roof. He holstered his revolver and heaved the heavy machine gun with both hands.


    Clara glanced nervously between him and the bloodrop. A face appeared in the void, upside down. Glassy white, with sharp animal features. Its nose was stubby and upturned. Its cheeks and eyebrows were high and pointed. Its eyes were closed. Hands appeared in the bloodrop, crossed over its chest, as it slowly emerged.


    ¡°Reveal unto me thy might, Andrew.¡± The vampire stretched its long slender arms out invitingly. Dagger canines jutted out of its jaw. ¡°What spices doth render thy blood so exotic?¡± Its voice was loud and deep, amplified across the length of the car park. It possessed an aura which sunk into Clara¡¯s gut like the precipice of an enormous drop. Her blood froze. She couldn¡¯t move, she was diminutive, helpless.


    ¡°I told you already, obey me.¡± Andy spoke to himself, straining to lift the machine gun. He bent and tore the metal of the roof where one tripod leg was still attached. His face was red with exertion, his teeth gritted into a snarl. Clara had never seen him try so hard at anything in his life.


    ¡°Augment me or we both die.¡±


    The vampire began to glide towards them, silent like an owl. Clara shook herself, shouldered her submachine gun, and opened fire. Bullets sped through the air, pelting the swooping shadow. Blood and bone burst from the vampire¡¯s carapace, oozing black smoke. The vampire drew up like a bird in flight, pulling its arms before its face, withdrawing its outstretched bat wings like shields. Clara pulled down on the gun¡¯s barrel to control her grouping, peppering its wings with the low calibre rounds. SHe could hurt it, maybe she could kill it? Her gun ticked empty in her hands. Clara unclipped the magazine to replace it, but already the vampire was opening its wings again. A few small holes smoked in its flesh, but they tightened and reconstituted, snuffing out the smoke.


    It snarled at her. ¡°Stay thyself, impetulant wench, until thy time cometh.¡±


    With a lurch, Andy tore the machine gun free of the roof. A jagged scrap of metal was still attached to the tripod¡¯s leg where he ripped it. Stumbling backwards, he planted his feet and turned the barrel on the vampire, hauling the machine gun up to his waist with a strength Clara had never before seen him possess.


    ¡°Vampire¡­¡± he said. ¡°More like¡­ vamp-why-are you such a pussy?¡±


    Clara frowned. ¡°What?¡±


    The machine gun pounded like a pneumatic drill, wailing carnage. The vampire tucked its wings to protect its body, but the heavy rounds pierced the blackness, pushing it back. Each bullet was like a javelin stabbing through it, thrusting black spires into the air which evaporated on the wind.


    Andy swayed with each shot. The recoil travelled through his body like a wave, dissipating the kinetic energy. His long black hair flowed behind him, erect with static electricity. He stood atop their jeep and screamed, but the sound was deafened by the machine gun. Suddenly, the vampire¡¯s wings crumpled and it collapsed to the concrete. Andy did not pause, he did not miss a shot. Mercilessly, he eviscerated its form. Shell casings spat from the gun¡¯s chamber, spraying the car park like tinkling chimes accompanying a pounding war drum. The vampire shrank beneath the onslaught, its clawed hands held before its face as its black aura ebbed. Then, with a gust of morning wind propelled by the rising sun, a swell of smoke rose about the dark lord¡¯s eviscerated form, like the ash of a great bonfire caught in a tornado current, drifting upwards and vanishing before the pristine blue sky.


    Clara blinked, wobbling in place, not believing her eyes. No trace of the vampire remained. Andy dropped the machine gun and sat on the roof of their jeep breathing heavily. His head drooped. Clara approached him, offering her hand. Instead, he dragged the huge gun across the roof and passed it down to her. She heaved it on her shoulder. How had Andy lifted the thing, let alone rip it from the roof and fire it?


    Andy slid down the jeep¡¯s smashed windshield and off the bonnet. He approached the spot where the vampire had been. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± He kicked around in the bullet-pocked asphalt. Nothing remained. No blood, no black markings, no shadows.


    ¡°Is it dead?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Doubt it. We¡¯ll probably see him again tonight¡±


    ¡°Do you reckon?¡±


    ¡°As much as I enjoyed that, you can¡¯t kill a vampire with just bullets.¡± He bent and picked something out of the fine rubble. A small golden ring. ¡°Loot,¡± he said, sliding the ring over his finger. ¡°Think it¡¯s my style?¡±


    ¡°Andy, it¡¯s probably fucking haunted.¡±


    ¡°Ah, never mind then.¡± Pocketing the ring, he took one end of the machine gun, Clara took the other. Together, they carried it like a heavy piece of lumber across the car park towards the shopping complex. Clara could feel the heat of the barrel near her hip where she carried it. Her legs were stiff. She needed a break. Birds chirped nearby, occupying the wild trees which surrounded the car park.


    ¡°Good job dude,¡± she said.


    ¡°Cheers sis.¡± The veins bulged in Andy¡¯s forearms and swelled at his temples. ¡°Heavy init?¡±


    ¡°How did you¡­?¡±


    ¡°Special powers,¡± he winked. ¡°I¡¯ve got that AI working for me now.¡±


    What did that even mean, Clara dared not ask. The shopping centre rose above them, its glass exterior sparkling in the morning light.


    ¡°I need some water,¡± Andy coughed. ¡°Then the stiffest drink in the joint.¡±

 Chapter 25 - A Quick Getaway

    A large glass arch stood before them, shaped like a bullet, supported by smooth steel beams. Andy ducked through the shattered glass and into a circular, two-stories high shopping plaza. A pair of escalators connected the upper floors on either side of the room. Surrounding the plaza were mausoleum stores, long since abandoned and looted.


    Their three tag-alongs were waiting for them in a caffe area at the plaza¡¯s centre. Red plastic chairs stood beside low coffee tables. With Clara¡¯s help, Andy slung the heavy machine gun against a wall and slumped into a plastic chair.


    ¡°Riddhi, Linton. With me.¡± Clara headed back out into the car park.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± the scrawny man in a lab coat said. ¡°I¡¯m not going back out there.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s safe,¡± Clara said. ¡°Andy and I handled it.¡±


    ¡°You handled that demon?¡±


    ¡°We eliminated it. For now, at least. Come on, give me a hand with gear.¡±


    The three of them left Andy behind with the mercenary they¡¯d rescued. Andy massaged his forearms, stiff from firing the machine gun. His back ached from lifting it, his mouth was dry and he had a headache. But he¡¯d done it, he¡¯d submitted the AI implant and forced it to develop a power of his choosing.


    Attention: Accelerated installation complete: Marsman: Heavy Weaponry (Tier 1): The Gunslinger¡¯s musculature and skeletal structure is temporarily reinforced to facilitate the operation of heavy weaponry. Somatic recoil synchronisation minimises the transmission of negative kinetic energy to the operative.


    Warning: Accelerated installation requires calibration. Failure to comply results in significant fatigue and increased risk of injury. Proceed to an Augmentation Master Console for recalibration.


    ¡°Sure thing, let¡¯s see what we¡¯ve got.¡± Andy looked around the plaza, reading the shop signs left over from pre-cataclysm days. ¡°A bakery. A gadget shop. I think that¡¯s a bowling alley. Reckon there¡¯s military grade technology in there?¡±


    ¡°I doubt it,¡± the merc sitting nearby replied. He must have thought Andy was talking to him.


    Andy stared at the man. He was almost as tall as Andy, but twice as muscular. His clothes were torn and stained so much it was hard to tell what they¡¯d looked like originally. One side of his face was badly bloated, his eye swollen shut. His arms were cut and bruised. There was a fresh bandage on his arm soaked in blood. The handle of a .45 pistol jutted out of his belt buckle, about the only piece of clothing that had remained intact.


    ¡°Shame.¡±


    Clara returned with the scientists, carrying supplies from the jeep. Specs carried the metal briefcase, wrapping his arms around it like it was his baby. Clara took something out of her back pocket and handed it to Andy¨Ca small bottle of scotch, mostly empty.


    ¡°Huh, cheers,¡± he said. ¡°What about the goth spirit I found? ?uic?. The bottle was mostly full.¡±


    ¡°It got smashed.¡±


    ¡°No, really?¡± Andy shook his head, ¡°That¡¯s terrible.¡± He swigged the scotch, stretching his legs, then handed the dregs to the bruised merc.


    ¡°Cheers,¡± he said.


    ¡°No problem.¡±


    Clara took up a chair and table beside the man, unboxing a first aid kit. ¡°Right, the plan is to catch a little rest here. Patch our wounds, take stock, reload everything we¡¯ve got, then move on. The jeep¡¯s bust up.¡± She paused and sighed. Her voice sounded deflated. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to hotwire something else.¡±


    ¡°What a ballache,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Hotwire?¡± the nerdy guy said. ¡°You mean, one of those vehicles abandoned outside?¡±


    Clara cleaned a wound on her patient¡¯s arm then wrapped a bandage around it. ¡°Uh-hu.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t their batteries all be dead?¡±


    ¡°They will, so we¡¯ll have to take the one from our jeep to jump it, or replace it with.¡±


    ¡°Assuming the one from your jeep still works.¡±


    ¡°Assuming it isn¡¯t trashed from the crash or black magic, yes.¡± Clara tied a knot around the bandage. She dipped a cloth in solution, dabbing the merc¡¯s busted up face. He clenched his fist, but didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Or maybe we¡¯ll get lucky and find something that¡¯s been used recently and abandoned. But I doubt it.¡±


    ¡°Is it safe to work in the open?¡± Ballpit asked.


    ¡°Probably not,¡± Clara said. ¡°But we need a vehicle, that¡¯s priority one. Any suggestions?¡±


    Andy wandered around the plaza while the others chatted. The cafe kiosk, dark and bare, recommended the ¡®Seasonal Supreme Latte¡¯ at the price of 4.5. There was no indication of what currency they accepted, but regardless, Andy doubted they¡¯d be suitably stocked for his needs.


    He circumvented the cafe area, glancing at the pre-cataclysm posters, glued behind glass. Most of them were peeling away. A block of sunlight shone on a portion of the plaza''s second floor, beaming through the glass arch entryway. The signs and posters beneath the sunlight had faded over time due to the UV radiation¨CClara had taught him about that once, and for some reason it had stuck in his mind. Elsewhere, in sections where shadows were everlasting, the graphics remained intact. A boy in trunks laughed at him from the darkness. He held a multicoloured beach ball, running towards whomever had taken the picture. His parents were behind him, also laughing. Also, there was an aeroplane in the background. Also, a cartoonish black cat sitting atop a pile of money. The slogan read: ¡®Give your savings a break¡¯.


    ¡°Neat,¡± Andy said, then something caught his eye. A body laid against the glass inside of the doorway. Its hand was propped up against the hingest. Its fingers were moving slowly, flicking at the glass. The body was emaciated like a dried, ashen fruit, mouldy and grey. Andy bent down for a closer look. Empty white eyes gazed back at him. Its jaw hung limp, creaking on its hinges like the trigger of a rusty pistol with an empty magazine.


    ¡°There¡¯s zombies here,¡± Andy reported, rejoining the group. ¡°But they¡¯re mostly dead.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t all zombies dead?¡± Specs said.


    Andy glared at him. ¡°Alright, they¡¯re mostly dead-dead.¡±


    ¡°What did you find?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°There¡¯s one over there, behind glass. Looks like the same strain as the ones we were fighting recently, except, kind of tired out.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it just woke up,¡± she said. ¡°They¡¯re active in the dark, quiet during the day.¡±


    ¡°Could be,¡± Andy said. ¡°Or maybe they don¡¯t do as well on their own.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, the ones we found in the basement¡­ they were all piled up. Maybe this far from the city, they¡¯re separated from a group, and just sort of die.¡±


    ¡°We need more evidence,¡± Clara said. ¡°It¡¯s a theory, though.¡±


    ¡°There could be more of them,¡± the nerd said. ¡°Give me a weapon. I need to be able to defend myself.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a pistol in that bag,¡± Clara said, pointing at the supplies they¡¯d taken from the jeep. ¡°Give one to Riddhi too.¡±


    ¡°Are we ready to get moving?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Just about.¡± Clara packed away the first aid kit. The merc thanked her, sitting upright. He had a large cotton patch over his eye. One of his hands was wrapped up like a glove.


    Andy spotted a bandage around Clara¡¯s thumb and wrist. ¡°You okay?¡±


    ¡°Fine, just a sprain.¡± She set off towards the glass entrance way, Andy in tow. Then something caught his attention, the sound of an engine. Clara ran ahead of him, and they both scanned the roads outside. At one end of the car park, there was an embankment of weeds and trees. A jeep-sized path cut through the weeds where they had crashed down from the motorway earlier. The embankment dipped as it ran the length of the lot, flattening out at an exit point one-hundred metres away. Foliage stretched over the concrete divide, cracking the paving stones with their roots.


    The sound of an engine sped behind the embankment treeline. Andy followed it until the foliage ebbed and the vehicle was visible, heading towards the car park entrance. Two goths sat atop the motorbike, dressed in leathers. They drove around the shopping district out of sight, but there were more behind them.


    Andy counted the engines. ¡°About four, maybe more.¡±


    ¡°I hear six,¡± Clara said, her head tilted to the sky.


    ¡°So much for a quick getaway,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t really fancy jumpstarting one of these wrecks while they¡¯re harassing us.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t get close,¡± Andy said, resting his hand on Julie.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°It¡¯s not close, I¡¯m worried about. They might miss nine out of ten shots, but they¡¯ll have plenty of time to get lucky if we have to work on a vehicle out in the open. They¡¯ll just pick us off.¡±


    ¡°I could create a distraction?¡± Andy said. ¡°Or we could use one of the scientists as bait.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Not even the nerd?¡±


    Clara scowled, her face shadowed by the brim of her cap. ¡°Let¡¯s get back inside. We can barricade the entrances to this area of the mall. Separate it from the rest. Secure it. Then, we head to the roof. We¡¯ll have a look around and see what our options are.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡± Clara conveyed her plan to the others while Andy scouted the plaza¡¯s entrances. Climbing the escalators, he discovered that the plaza¡¯s first and second floors were isolated from the rest of the shopping centre, connected only by a passageway on the ground floor. There were shops everywhere, each of which undoubtedly possessed back doors to loading areas and fire exits. Likely dozens of doors. But instead of checking each one, he focussed on the main weaknesses: the glass domed entryway they¡¯d entered through, and the connecting passageway.


    Andy turned his headlamp on and followed the passageway around a corner as it snaked into the shopping complex. The sound of Clara¡¯s voice disappeared as he delved deeper, until it was quiet, and he was alone. On either side of the corridor were stores. To his right, a looted jewellery store. To his left, a display of fungus topped doughnuts shone bright pink in his headlamp. A sign read: ¡®Doughn¡¯t miss out.¡¯


    He passed by clothing stores with display mannequins, keeping an eye on them, just checking that they weren¡¯t alive. After his experience on the ghost train, he half expected anything humanoid to jump out at him. He considered putting a bullet in the mannequins'' heads, just to be safe¡­ but that was a bit extreme. Besides, they might have to conserve ammo for what was to come.


    About ten minutes into his stroll, the corridor ended at two escalators heading downwards with an access elevator beside them. Andy considered how they¡¯d barricade the escalators. He spotted something lurking down the corridor beyond, another zombie. Andy clapped his hands. The zombie picked its head up and stumbled towards him. Sunlight streamed in through glass panels along one wall. Andy watched as the zombie reached the bottom of the elevator and tumbled on the steps. It crawled on its hands and legs like a baby, climbing the escalator.


    Andy observed its ascent, downloading information on the strain, then once it reached the top, he kicked it in the head, knocking it backwards. It clanged off the railings and landed in a heap. Its neck was snapped and twisted around. It glared at him, grinding its jaws, but couldn¡¯t move its limbs. Paralysed.


    Andy listened out for anything else attracted by the sound, but there was nothing. He returned to the others and told Clara about the escalators.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s tough to defend,¡± she said. ¡°Better we barricade a section on the first floor of this plaza. At least then we can narrow our perimeter down to just two main entrances.¡± She pointed at the two escalators in the plaza.


    Carrying their gear up to the first floor, they set it in a pile near the balcony and explored. The floor was decorated with the corpses of neglected plants, standing in marble bowls full of pebbles. The smell of gunk and algae permeated from a large fish tank inside a pet store, overflowing with dropping plants. There was a picture of a happy fish in the window wearing a chef¡¯s hat, giving the thumbs up. Clara moved inside an adjacent restaurant, where there were heavy wooden tables inside.


    ¡°This will do,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s near the escalators, so we will have an overwatch on the plaza below, but not too high up and out of the way that it will be difficult to escape if we need to fall back.¡±


    ¡°How can we help?¡± the woman scientist asked.


    ¡°Move these tables in front of the window,¡± Clara said. ¡°Robert, can you have a look in the kitchen and offices for any back entrances?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll map it out.¡± He pulled his belt up, adjusting the pistol in his waistline and set off.


    Specs lounged on the floor, payload in his lap. His eyes were black bags as he scowled up at Clara.


    ¡°The sooner we fortify this area, the sooner we can have a little rest,¡± Clara said. ¡°Remember what I told you. We¡¯re professionals. We¡¯ve done this before. Follow my orders, take my advice, and we¡¯ll all get out of here alive.¡±


    Clara extended a hand to help him up, but the man looked away.


    ¡°I need five minutes.¡±


    ¡°I trust you,¡± the woman said. ¡°Linton, we must do as she says.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re just doing our jobs,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°You risked your lives for us.¡±


    Clara laughed. ¡°That¡¯s our job.¡±


    The woman¡¯s shoulders bunched and she bowed her head. Her back was to Andy, but he could guess she was crying, maybe? Clara¡¯s expression changed, she seemed sad too now. What was the big deal?


    ¡°Aww, come here.¡± His sister hugged the woman briefly, then pulled away and squeezed her shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be okay.¡±


    Finally, Clara left the two scientists alone and they headed towards the roof together. As they travelled up another escalator, he heard the heavy tables being scraped across the floor, and the rev of a distant engine through the walls. It was easy to pick out sounds when the rest of the world was deadly silent. Then, in the far distance, came the low rumble of an explosion.


    ¡°This way,¡± Clara said, following a door into a stairwell, then up onto the roof. Andy squinted as sunlight struck his face. He retrieved his rickety sunglasses from his jacket¡¯s inner pocket and put them on. Metal boxes poked out of the gravel floor at regular intervals, adorned with fans, grates and electrical panels. Andy hopped over a ventilation tube to get at the edge of the roof and surveyed their surroundings. The circular plaza section of the shopping complex stood like a tower at the end of a long rectangular structure with a flat roof, with an access ladder leading downwards. Behind the shopping complex were untended fields and overgrown roads, likely once used for farming. The only viable way in and out of the complex with a vehicle was the two roads connecting the vast carpark to the motorway.


    Motorbikes patrolled along the motorway, like wasps around an enemy hive. Andy heard another explosion in the distance, and followed the sound to the edge of the roof. He squinted. Clara peered through binoculars beside him. Another explosion sounded, then the pop of distant gunfire.


    ¡°What are they doing?¡± she said.


    ¡°They must be fighting something. Could be another gang. Maybe this isn¡¯t their turf.¡±


    Clara checked her wrist terminal, lining her map up with the direction of the explosions. ¡°We¡¯re right near the border of three different apocalypse zones. That way,¡± she pointed to her right, ¡°is unknown. But towards the explosions,¡± she trailed her hand towards the left. ¡°Is killer toads¨Cthreat level one. Nothing serious. I can¡¯t imagine they need this many explosives to fight toads.¡±


    ¡°Probably a rival gang then.¡±


    ¡°Probably. Bit of a coincidence though.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, think about it. Who carries explosives like that to engage in a skirmish with a rival gang? It sounds like an all-out assault. Why now? They¡¯re supposed to be chasing us, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    Andy shrugged. An engine revved from the opposite side of the roof, carrying over the quiet landscape. Clara skipped over the roof to the other edge. ¡°The ones circling us don¡¯t seem to be in a hurry to join their friends.¡±


    ¡°No, they¡¯re surrounding us,¡± Andy said. ¡°We could just take the payload out on foot, slip these bikes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about one hundred and fifty miles back to Quadra. That¡¯s about a week on foot.¡±


    ¡°We ambush one of these motorbikes then, steal it and go.¡±


    ¡°And get chased the whole way by the gang?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be sneaky. Do you prefer our chances here?¡±


    Clara gazed off the roof, contemplating.


    ¡°Think we can take vamps?¡±


    ¡°Maybe that thing will take some time to reconstitute itself.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, maybe.¡± Andy shrugged. ¡°Why risk it?¡±


    ¡°Okay, we need to be out before sunset. But not on a bike, we¡¯re too exposed like that, and I don¡¯t want to leave anyone behind.¡± Clara walked along the edge of the roof, searching the car park below. ¡°See anything roadworthy?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember everyone being part of the mission,¡± Andy said.


    Clara refused to look at him, ignoring the comment. Andy¡¯s chest tightened. This was no time for charity. He wouldn¡¯t risk Clara¡¯s life for one of theirs, not even a little bit.


    The high pitched sound of a gunshot whistled through the air, followed by another. Andy searched for where it came from, his senses suddenly sharpened as the ice cold taste of his Augmentation¡¯s hormones trickled into his veins. When a third gunshot sounded, Andy¡¯s attention flicked to a derelict lorry stationed on the motorway, the compartment of which poked above the embankment¡¯s treeline. Two figures knelt on the roof. A muzzle flashed, then something chipped the brick wall fifty yards below and to the right. It was an embarrassingly bad miss, but the shooters kept on trying.


    ¡°Looks like they¡¯ve spotted us,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Where are they?¡± Clara asked. Andy pointed them out and she looked through her binoculars. ¡°What a couple of idiots.¡±


    Andy drew Julie and aimed down the sights, then adjusted his shot to account for drop off and a slight wind.


    Attention: Unable to calculate ballistics, his AI informed him.


    ¡°What do you bet I can hit them from here?¡± Andy said.


    Likelihood of success: Implausible.


    ¡°Talking to you, sis,¡± he clarified to the voice in his head.


    Clara thought for a moment. Another shot spattered on the brickwork a mile away. ¡°If you miss, you have to go up to Riddhi and ask her how she¡¯s doing. If she¡¯s alright.¡±


    ¡°Which one¡¯s Riddhi?¡±


    ¡°The woman, obviously.¡±


    ¡°Do you mean Ballpit?¡±


    ¡°What? Who?¡±


    ¡°The chick with the lab coat.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Alright, deal,¡± Andy said. ¡°But if I hit, I get to shoot her in the head.¡±


    ¡°What? No-¡±


    Julie boomed in his hand, drowning out Clara¡¯s protest. A plume of dust burst from the concrete path at the edge of the car park, a good ten metres away from his target. ¡°Damn.¡±


    ¡°Ha!¡± Clara laughed. ¡°Guess you gotta go pretend to be a person for a minute then, yeah?¡±


    Someone called for Clara inside the centre. She left Andy on the roof to go see what was up. Andy strolled around, observing the landscape. ¡°What do you think,¡± he asked of the voices.


    Processing¡­ Request: Clarify priorities.


    ¡°The payload. Mine and Clara¡¯s lives.¡±


    Calculation: Walk west for two-hundred and twenty six hours towards allied settlement: Quadra.


    ¡°But that would suck.¡±


    Processing. Walk west for one-hundred and thirteen hours. Rest for six hours. Walk west for one-hundred and thirteen hours.


    ¡°You can tell you¡¯re not the strategic model.¡±


    Affirmative. Programmes optimised for combat enhancement protocol.


    ¡°Andy,¡± Clara buzzed over his radio. ¡°Don¡¯t freak out, but you¡¯re going to want to see this.¡±


    ¡°Why would I freak out?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t freak out.¡±


    Andy jogged back inside and followed her directions down the first level, past where the two scientists had barricaded the restaurant and into the backroom of an adjacent storefront. It was hard to tell what the store had been before the cataclysm, since all the shelves had long since been picked dry.


    At the back of the store was a closet. Clara was standing in the centre of the closet, examining the shelves. Specs excited the closet with a stack of bottles, placing them in a trolley outside.


    Booze.


    ¡°Oh my God.¡±


    Andy barged him out of the way and rushed inside the closet. The shelves were dusty and covered in clutter, but Clara pointed with her torch towards the back of the room where, beneath a bunch of discarded posters and plywood, was a stash of untouched, apocalypse-aged absinthe.


    ¡°Oh my God!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re having this to share,¡± Clara said, putting a small 50cl bottle in his hands. ¡°The rest, we can make bombs from.¡±


    ¡°This will do me,¡± Andy said, unscrewing the lid and knocking it back. It tasted like peppermint diesel with a liquorish twist. Yum.


    ¡°To share!¡±

 Chapter 26 - Ethanol Bouquet

    ¡°I saw a couple vehicles from the roof.¡± Clara conveyed her plan to the rest of the group. They were sitting on padded, cube-shaped stools in the first floor plaza area nearby where they had built their improvised table-defences. Andy lounged in a massage chair nearby drinking absinthe, smacking his lips after every sip. He must have found a coin to insert, because the chair buzzed and jiggled the bottle in his hand.


    ¡°They might be operable,¡± she continued. ¡°We don¡¯t know until we try. But if they¡¯re not, we¡¯ll have to steal a couple bikes.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to drive a motorbike,¡± Linton said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve driven a moped once before,¡± Riddhi said. She looked at Robert for an answer. Since Clara had scouted out the roof, the mercenary had taken some clothes from a nearby store to replace his rags. He looked remarkably smart in black trousers and a white buttoned up shirt, the tusks of his Hogs tattoo poking above the collar. Only his grimy hands and blood splotched bandages gave away the smart disguise. He held up his injured arm. ¡°Might be tough.¡±


    ¡°Our other option is to stand and fight,¡± Clara said. ¡°Whatever that entails.¡± She wouldn¡¯t mention the possibility of the vampire resurrecting and returning for vengeance, that would only lower morale.


    Linton leaned forward on his stool, tying the laces on a pair of trainers he¡¯d finally managed to scavenge. Between his shins nestled the payload, like a baby chick beneath its roosting mother. ¡°If we could communicate with Blue Eyes somehow, we could ask him to send a rescue party.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a big if,¡± Clara said. ¡°Our radios are short range, line of sight. I didn¡¯t see any radio dishes on the roof, just network relays.¡±


    ¡°What if you two escaped, drove to Quadra, then alerted Blue Eyes and came back with reinforcements.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve discussed this already. I¡¯m not leaving the payload,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Send him then.¡± Linton nodded at Andy. A strip of sunlight caught Andy¡¯s chair. He slumped and dozed, the bottle of booze dangled limp in his hand.


    ¡°We don¡¯t split up like that.¡±


    ¡°Then take me and tell Blue Eyes and come back with reinforcements,¡± he stammered, his mind racing ahead of his words. ¡°Or, no. We hide. We find somewhere and lock all the doors and stay quiet, wait for it all to pass. Or, maybe we could pay them off, the goths? Pay one of them to take us, betray their clan.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that will work.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°Linton,¡± Clara said. ¡°Take a breath.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re professionals,¡± Riddhi said.


    Linton scoffed. ¡°Some professional situation we¡¯re in right now, with a demon chasing us and an army of cultists at the gates. It¡¯s only gotten worse since they rescued us.¡±


    ¡°But we were rescued,¡± Riddhi said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t care about any of this anymore.¡± He stood up and straightened his stained lab coat. ¡°I¡¯m a researcher, not a soldier. I shouldn¡¯t be here. You can decide what we do without me, not like I have a say anyway.¡± Storming off, he swung his metal briefcase like a marching batton.


    Clara pinched her temples and ground her teeth. She rose and took the booze from Andy¡¯s grasp, swigging it, grimacing as the absinthe trickled into her stomach. She felt nauseatingly tired. ¡°I can¡¯t think.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re doing very well,¡± Riddhi said. ¡°Please don¡¯t take what Linton said to heart. He is exhausted. And scared. We all are.¡±


    Clara smiled. ¡°Thanks.¡± She pulled three of the cubic stools together and lied down. ¡°I need a couple hours. Could you keep watch?¡±


    ¡°Any way I can help,¡± she said, retrieving the pistol from her belt and placing it in her lap.


    Nearby, Robert rose and wandered away from their meeting. ¡°I¡¯ll take a look around.¡±


    ¡°Stay safe,¡± Clara said, setting an alarm on her terminal. ¡°Wake me if there¡¯s anything.¡± As soon as her head hit the padding, she fell asleep.


    It was as if she¡¯d blinked. Riddhi stood above her, shaking her shoulder. ¡°Wake up.¡±


    Clara sat upright, rubbing her eyes. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s zombies outside.¡±


    She stretched her neck. ¡°How many?¡±


    ¡°Lots.¡±


    ¡°How long was I out?¡±


    ¡°Almost three hours.¡±


    Clara checked her terminal. She¡¯d set the alarm wrong. Stupid.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go look,¡± she said.


    They had transported all of their supplies from the jeep up to the first floor earlier that day. Among them was a duffel bag containing Clara¡¯s scoped rifle. She unzipped the bag and slung the gun, pocketing the extra two magazines it possessed. Each held twenty high calibre rounds. A box of rounds inside the bag contained a further sixty. She hadn¡¯t used the rifle much on their mission so far, so it was well stocked for ammo.


    Clara glanced at Andy, he was still snoozing in the massage chair. Best to leave him like that, let him get some sleep.


    ¡°Where did you see them?¡±


    ¡°Outside,¡± Riddhi said.


    ¡°Which direction, I mean?¡±


    ¡°Every direction.¡±


    Clara scowled. ¡°Stay here, watch over him.¡±


    Clara walked to the balcony¡¯s edge which overlooked the glass entrance on the ground floor. From here, she could see all the way out into the parking lot. Skeletal shapes draped in oversized rags roamed towards the shopping complex under a gloomy sky. She spotted no more than a dozen, but they might attract more. ¡°How do they know we¡¯re here?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Riddhi said, panic filtering into her voice.


    ¡°When you were at the research centre, was this normal? Were they drawn to you?¡±


    Riddhi shook her head. ¡°Only in the final two weeks. Before then, we were safe.¡±


    Clara bit her lip, unsure of what to make of it. She ducked inside the restaurant which they had barricaded and headed to a large window at the rear which overlooked the car park from a different angle. Zombies approached the mall from all directions. An explosion sounded nearby¨Cmuch closer than she had heard them earlier that day. Clara spotted a plume of smoke and debris rising from a road out of sight. A motorbike appeared near it, then dipped out of sight, driving slowly towards their position. Clara fished her binoculars from her bag and spied the vehicle. It appeared again, closer than before. There were two goths riding it, and something was strapped to the side. A black rectangular box. Clara focussed her lenses, it was a speaker. A handful of zombies stumbled into view down the road, following after the bike, then a horde. The goths were shepherding them.


    ¡°It¡¯s not random,¡± Clara said. ¡°They¡¯re being shepherded.¡±


    The undead amassed, forming clusters, bunching together in piles whenever they were left alone for long enough. But the goffs kept them moving, kept drawing their attention and directing them towards the shopping complex. It would be too dangerous to go outside and work on a vehicle now, not to mention a colossal waste of ammo.


    ¡°Look familiar?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean.¡±


    ¡°I bet this is what happened to you guys, why the research centre got overrun. You don¡¯t remember seeing any cultists in the area?¡±


    ¡°I was focussed on my research. The militia were supposed to keep us safe.¡±


    Clara sighed, rubbing her silver watch. Well, that settled it then. She returned to the plaza area and rifled through her backwack, swapping the gear over from the batwing backpack before throwing it away. Taking her normal clothes behind a nearby pillar, she changed back into her combat outfit and returned to the group feeling refreshed and prepared. Andy still snoozed in the massage chair. Robert sat on the stools beside a pile of clothing and the trolley of absinthe bottles they¡¯d pillaged. He was tearing old shirts into strips, soaking them in the absinthe and jamming the cloth into the tops of bottles. As Clara approached, he handed her a bottle.


    ¡°Bouquet for the lady.¡±


    ¡°Oh, my favourite.¡± She sniffed the cloth poking out of the top, the ethanol fumes made her eyes water.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know much about this strain of zombies, but in my experience, everything hates fire.¡±


    ¡°Good call. So you¡¯ve seen the horde?¡±


    ¡°I have,¡± he said. ¡°Figured you do with a little more rest.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Clara looked away, biting her lip. It was true, but she felt like an idiot for needing to sleep. ¡°Well, this limits our options, doesn¡¯t it. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be moving out of here any time soon.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Robert finished the last of the molotov cocktails, placing it in the trolley with the rest. ¡°I¡¯ve had an idea about the escalators. If we place a board on top of them, just a slab of varnished wood, they¡¯re going to be fairly difficult to climb up. Might stump a horde, or even the cultists, if any try and run up it.¡±


    ¡°Just a slab of wood?¡±


    ¡°A tabletop would do.¡±


    ¡°Okay, good idea.¡± Clara placed her cocktail amongst the rest. ¡°Or, we move everything to the roof?¡±


    Robert stared out of the window while he thought about her proposition.


    ¡°No,¡± Clara said. ¡°No, that won¡¯t work. Too exposed. They could climb up anywhere on the wall, put snipers on overwatch and fill these floors with undead. We¡¯re better off fighting them here where they¡¯re bottlenecked.¡±


    ¡°Save it for plan C,¡± Robert said, limping over to where Lintong was slumped on the floor outside their barricaded base. ¡°Hey, Linton was it? Come give me a hand.¡±


    The scientist picked himself up off the floor, carrying the payload with him inside. Clara followed them, and found Riddhi sorting through supplies which she¡¯d scavenged from nearby shops¨Ca few canned tins and bottles of liquid. Some of it was consumable. As Calra sat beside her inspecting the haul, Riddhi cracked open a can of pop and took out a tray of pills. She swallowed each with procedural movement, unfocussed on her task. Then her eyes flickered, and she looked at Clara. ¡°Is there a pharmacy nearby?¡±


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°There should be one. Probably looted already.¡±


    Riddhi¡¯s head drifted back to the table.


    ¡°What for?¡±


    Riddhi placed the tray back inside her lab coat¡¯s inner pocket. ¡°My medication.¡±


    ¡°What do you take? I can keep an eye out.¡±


    ¡°Lamotrigine, for seizures.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Clara wasn¡¯t sure what else to say. Riddhi looked her in the eye and smiled sheepishly, then turned her attention to a pot of honey she¡¯d scavenged.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I have suffered with them ever since I was a young girl. You won¡¯t believe it, when I first went to the doctors, they told me I was overreacting.¡± She leaned in closer. ¡°They said it was just my period playing up.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± Clara took out a small spoon she kept handy within her pouches and dipped into the honey pot. ¡°But, the medication works?¡±


    ¡°Only thing that stops me from blacking out and banging my head.¡± Riddhi licked her fork. ¡°Not the easiest to find nowadays. Expensive.¡±


    ¡°Is it rare?¡±


    ¡°Lamotrigine is, yes. I need iron tablets as well, and I should be on a few others, but I manage without them.¡± Riddhi fidgeted with the bangles around her wrist, and Clara felt her own hand being drawn towards her small silver watch. ¡°It¡¯s why I do all of this, honestly. Our research¡­ I have a mind for it. And the salary, it keeps me alive. I need these pills, and they are rare.¡±


    ¡°How many do you have there?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°Four days left,¡± she said. ¡°I will make them last eight.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be back in Quadra before then.¡± A waft of perfume drifted from the Riddhi¡¯s freshly scavenged clothes. Clara hadn¡¯t even considered smelling nice. Suddenly, she felt embarrassed, unwomanly, whatever that meant. ¡°Your perfume smells nice.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m so sorry.¡± Riddhi rose immediately and retrieved the bottle from nearby. ¡°Here, there is plenty to share.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Clara sprayed herself, then got up. ¡°Anyway, back to work.¡± Riddhi started to rise, but Clara stook her hand out. ¡°No, no. Get some rest. I¡¯ve had a couple hours, now you get yours.¡±


    Riddhi sunk back into the table. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Clara returned to the balcony plaza, where Andy slumped in his massage chair. She had mistook him for being asleep, but actually, he stared into the shadows with a sunken expression.


    ¡°You alright?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Eh, I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± She rarely saw him concerned. It troubled her. If Andy was afraid, then they were in deep.


    ¡°Last night,¡± he said. ¡°I could have done better. I need to.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay Andy.¡± Clara knelt beside him, her heart fluttering. It took a lot for him to admit his weakness; she had to choose her words very carefully so that he wouldn¡¯t close off again. ¡°We did well considering we were improvising. We¡¯ve got the payload. We¡¯re alive, relatively uninjured. You developed a new ability, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s good. Like you always say, we¡¯ll improvise, we¡¯ll manage.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t improvising.¡± Andy leaned forward in the massage chair and sighed, shaking his head.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°I had plenty of time to think of something better to say, but all I could come up with was vamp-why-are you such a pussy. What does that even mean?¡± Andy put his head in his hands. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s making me cringe.¡±


    ¡°Are you joking?¡±


    ¡°Huh, you don¡¯t think so?¡±


    Clara scowled at him.


    ¡°Do you think maybe¡­ it was cool in like a careless way?¡±


    ¡°Andy, why the fuck are you thinking about one-liners at a time like this?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s important. You have to leave a strong impression.¡±


    Clara scoffed, frustration catching the words on her tongue.


    ¡°Can you think of anything better?¡± Andy asked, his tone as genuine as ever she¡¯d heard it.


    Clara clenched her eyes shut and took three long breaths to settle her emotions. ¡°I figured out what the explosions from earlier were. Do you care?¡±


    Andy sighed. ¡°I care.¡±


    ¡°The cultists aren¡¯t fighting anything, they¡¯re luring zombies to our location.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s already too many for us to move around outside, and at night, it¡¯s gonna get worse.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so it¡¯s a siege.¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°How we looking for ammo?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve still got two belts left for your heavy machine gun, so two hundred rounds. My DMR is well stocked, we haven¡¯t used it much, but my submachine gun is low. I¡¯ve got two magazines, but one¡¯s only half full. As for pistols, I have a .45 with four full mags. Forty rounds. I gave everyone else a .45 too from those we took from the cultists¡¯ van yesterday. They each have a spare magazine.¡±


    ¡°Julie¡¯s got plenty,¡± Andy said, stroking the wood polished handle of his revolver. ¡°I¡¯ll take a look at the rest.¡±


    They moved over to their stockpile in the restaurant. Robert and Linton carried one of the heavy tables outside as they passed.


    ¡°Six full magazines for the AR,¡± Andy counted. ¡°A couple for this 9mm.¡± He patted the second holster at his ribs. ¡°I¡¯m out of grenades.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a few spare,¡± Clara said, fishing the padded box out from amongst the pile. ¡°Top up.¡±


    Andy put on his ammunition vest underneath his leather jacket and clipped five grenades to his bandolier. With his ammunition vest fully stocked with magazines, he didn¡¯t look so skinny anymore.


    ¡°Give us a hand,¡± he said, pointing to the HMG.


    ¡°I thought you were a big strong man now,¡± Clara said. ¡°Can¡¯t you carry this on your own?¡±


    ¡°Only when I¡¯m pissed off,¡± he said. ¡°And it¡¯s knackering.¡±


    ¡°So there¡¯s a limitation to the ability?¡± Clara asked as they carried their gear outside.


    ¡°I think so, until I¡­ you know, do the thing.¡±


    ¡°Recalibrate?¡±


    Andy nodded.


    ¡°Look at you, getting with the programme.¡±


    Andy looked over the massive gun fondly. ¡°I feel like a sell-out.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you are.¡±


    Nearby, Linton and Robert were attaching a heavy table to the top of the escalator, using rope they had scavenged from a DIY store to tie it to nearby railings and prevent it slipping all of the way down the steps. Linton grunted as he took the weight of the table, shifting it to where Robert instructed. Dropping it, the scientist arched his back and panted. ¡°It¡¯s too heavy. Can¡¯t we just blow the steps up?¡±


    ¡°What with?¡± Robert said.


    ¡°Grenades,¡± Linton snapped, as though he was speaking to a child.


    The mercenary raised an eyebrow and shared a look with Clara. ¡°You carrying many?¡±


    She shook her head.


    ¡°Fragmentation grenades aren¡¯t for demolitions,¡± Robert said, knocking on the elevator¡¯s solid steel casing. ¡°We¡¯d need a load of plastic or dynamite to blow this thing.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Calra said. ¡°Also, we don¡¯t want to fully block off any attackers, just make it harder for them to get to us. Bottleneck them. Surprise them. It¡¯s not about shutting them out completely, because then we¡¯re just trapping ourselves in here. It¡¯s all about forcing them to make hard decisions in the spare of the moment.¡±


    ¡°I get it,¡± Linton said.


    ¡°If we had enough explosives for this,¡± Robert continued. ¡°There¡¯d be a better use for them. But if you have any other suggestions, don¡¯t wait so long to ask.¡±


    Linton grumbled and went back to shifting the table. Clara helped him slide it in place. Within minutes,the smooth, varnished wood of the tables turned the escalators into slides. The zombies struggled with steps alone, they¡¯d have a lot of difficulty climbing up now, and while they struggled, they¡¯d make for easy targets.


    ¡°Right,¡± Clara said. ¡°Get set up.¡±


    Andy chose a spot behind a row of marble plant pots at the edge of the balcony to place his machine gun. He had an eye for picking good spots. The position overlooked the building¡¯s large glass archway entrance, and had visibility on each of two escalators, one of which was to his immediate left, the other was opposite him at the other end of the circular balcony. There was a large marble pillar behind him. If he needed to abandon the position, there was immediate cover from any angle.


    He set the tripod up on top of the platpots. It was rickety where the crash had damaged it, but could still swerve about forty-five degrees around. If he needed to adjust it further, he¡¯d just have to pick it up. He loaded the machine gun with one of the belts, placing the second belt beneath the plant pot.


    ¡°Let¡¯s build this area up some more,¡± Clara said. Thankfully, there were still plenty of tables inside the restaurant to take. Together, they began creating a waist-high barricade around the position.


    ¡°Silver,¡± Andy said. ¡°Vampires hate the stuff, right?¡±


    ¡°Supposedly, yeah.¡± Clara looked around to make sure the others weren¡¯t nearby. She wanted to keep them focussed on the zombies and cultists, not worried about the added threat of vampire.


    ¡°I saw a jewellery store on the ground floor,¡± Andy said. ¡°We should take some. Might be useful.¡±


    ¡°What else?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Sunlight, obviously. But we can¡¯t exactly bag that up.¡±


    ¡°Wooden stakes?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we could carry one each.¡±


    They set a final table upright against the plant pot, pulling a second heavy table behind it. This created an L shaped barrier on either side of the gunner¡¯s position.


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s going to come to that?¡± Clara asked nervously. ¡°Close quarters with a vampire?¡±


    Andy shrugged. ¡°We got lucky, didn¡¯t we. Started shooting when the sun came up. Doubt it¡¯ll be that easy again.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it is dead. Maybe the sunlight killed it.¡±


    ¡°Plan for the worst,¡± Andy said, sitting against the barricade and taking a sip of absinthe. ¡°Damn, that¡¯s good stuff.¡±


    Robert approached the two of them. ¡°That should slow them down.¡± The older merc sweated, and the blood splotches staining his clothes had expanded, but his eyes were alert. A pale patch had appeared in the centre of the welt on his face¨Cthe first signs of recovery. ¡°I¡¯ve had an idea for a trap.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°Rig some explosives to the glass ceiling.¡± Robert pointed at the archway overhanging the main entrance. ¡°If you rig it properly, you can bring the whole thing down. Cover the lobby in shards of glass.¡±


    ¡°What do you need to make it work?¡±


    ¡°Gunpowder. Not loads. I can take it from any of the ammunition casings we won¡¯t be using.¡±


    ¡°I think we¡¯ll be using all of it,¡± Clara said. ¡°But I do have plenty of 7.62. How much will you need?¡±


    ¡°Ten rounds should do. I¡¯ll make the explosives, if you think you could climb up there to attach them?¡±


    Clara inspected the steel beams holding up the archway. She could attach a safety rope somewhere and probably get quite high up the wall, if only she could source a ladder to take her past the first ten metres of vertical beam.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got about four hours before it¡¯s properly dark,¡± Robert said. We could be done for then.¡±


    Clara imagined his plan in action, mapping it out in her mind. Outside, a handful of zombies approached the entryway, pressing their faces up against the glass. Earlier, they had blocked the shattered doorway with a pile of coffee tables and chairs taken from the cafe below. It would stop zombies from wandering in, but wouldn¡¯t hold once the night arrived and they became enraged. ¡°Linton, grab every piece of furniture you can find on the ground floor and shove it up against the glass.¡±


    ¡°I need a minute,¡± the scientist said, slouching against the marble pillar with the payload between his legs, massaging his forearms. Clara stared at the metal briefcase. All of this trouble for that.


    ¡°What¡¯s inside the briefcase?¡± she asked.


    Linton shook his head in his lap, wrapping his legs around the payload.


    ¡°Could it be useful?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing like that,¡± Linton said. ¡°It¡¯s just research.¡±


    ¡°Worth risking your life over?¡± Robert said.


    ¡°Worth basing my entire life upon,¡± he replied.


    Clara took the absinthe from Andy and offered it to the scientist. ¡°Here.¡± The scrawny man took two big sips and spluttered. Clara bent and grabbed the briefcase from beneath him. He looked up at her, shocked.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna stick it with the rest of our stuff,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯ll be safer there than you carrying it around everywhere.¡±


    ¡°No, I can¡¯t take my eyes off it.¡±


    ¡°Yes you can,¡± Clara said. ¡°Our primary objective right now is to get this back to Blue Eyes. Our secondary objective is to save your life.¡± She smiled. ¡°Consider it a courtesy and do what I say. Start barricading the entrance, please.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t be able to get inside without the code,¡± Linton said, taking a step towards her.


    ¡°I don¡¯t intend to. But I bet Blue Eyes has the code.¡±


    Linton nodded slowly. His eyes lingered on the payload, then his shoulder slouched and he headed over to the nearest escalator. A length of thick rope had been lowered over the length of two tables covering the steps, making it possible for them to climb between the ground and first floor.


    ¡°Remind me,¡± Robert said. ¡°How much are we getting paid to keep him alive?¡±


    ¡°Quite a lot,¡± Clara said, handing him a pouch of 7.76.


    ¡°It¡¯s always the annoying ones.¡± He disappeared into the barricaded restaurant to work on the explosives.


    Clara took out a notepad and pencil, jotting down a list. ¡°I need you to grab some things,¡± she addressed Andy.


    Andy had since retrieved the bottle of absinthe and was sitting on a stool with his feet up sipping it with the purview of the lobby below like an old man drinking on his porch.


    ¡°I¡¯m on guard,¡± he slurred. ¡°Get one of the others to do it.¡±


    ¡°Which others?¡±


    Andy waved his bottle towards their fortified position behind him.


    ¡°I will if you can say their names.¡±


    Andy winced. ¡°Specs, Ball-pit and¡­ Limpy.¡±


    ¡°Limpy?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he limped.¡±


    ¡°Once, while we were escaping. Have you seen him limp since?¡±


    Andy shrugged. ¡°A little bit.¡±


    ¡°His name¡¯s Robert,¡± Clara said. ¡°Get up.¡±


    ¡°Give me a minute.¡±


    Clara booted the padded stool out from under him, sending him sprawling on the floor. She snorted, holding back her laughter. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to do that.¡±


    ¡°Blood hell, chill out.¡± Andy rose and leaned on the balcony.


    ¡°Right, now that you¡¯re awake.¡± Clara handed him the notepad with a shopping list. ¡°You can make yourself useful.¡±

 Chapter 27 - New High Score

    Andy wandered through the shopping centre carrying a basket, getting lost. There were more zombies present than when he¡¯d scouted the place that morning, but they were docile during the daytime. He trained them around just as he¡¯d done in video games before the cataclysm, letting them follow him throughout the stores. When one got in his way, he dispatched it with his combat knife. Their skulls were brittle, it was like stabbing a cardboard box. Better to save ammo and not create any noise, there¡¯d be no shortage of things to shoot later.


    Andy gave his little entourage the run-around before returning to the plaza area via the ground floor. Climbing the knotted rope which was lowered over the table-made barricade atop the escalator, Andy returned before evening and slung the items off Clara¡¯s shopping list onto a table beside those they¡¯d recovered from their jeep. There was a plastic bag full of silver jewellery, the wooden handle of a rake, two hand axes, a coil of rope, duct tape, some canned food, a handful of smoke alarms, a few packets of pills which Andy didn¡¯t recognise, a copy of the bible, a crucifix-shaped shampoo bottle, and finally, a bunch of ultraviolet tube bulbs.


    Clara and the merc¨CLimpy¨Cfollowed him inside. They were chatting about their lives pre-cataclysm. Andy didn''t pay them any attention. He tucked into a can of unspoiled spaghetti hoops¨Cthe ones with the sausages¨Cand washed it down with absinthe. He had a nice working-buzz on the go, which he intended to maintain until sunset.


    ¡°Should you be drinking?¡± Clara said. ¡°I need you focussed.¡±


    Andy teetered backwards on the legs of his chair, the mouth of the bottle gently pulling on his lower lip. ¡°You¡¯re forgetting sis, I work better while drunk now.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s that then?¡±


    ¡°My drunken monk ability. It improves all of my senses when I¡¯m pissed.¡±


    Negative, his AI chimed in his head. Interpretation incomplete. The module: Inebriation Inhibitor, maintains operative function while the user is toxically impaired.


    Andy tapped his skull. ¡°It agrees with me. Says I should get drunk.¡±


    Clara raised an eyebrow sceptically. ¡°Right, sure.¡±


    Andy rocked unsteadily on his chair while he carved the wooden handles he had scavenged into stakes.


    ¡°Found these on a corpse,¡± the merc said, handing Andy a cigar. ¡°Gave one to your companion too. Figured, light them up at the end.¡±


    Andy fished around his pockets for a lighter, then put the cigar to his lips and lit it.


    ¡°No, no, no.¡± The merc took it out of his mouth. ¡°Firstly, you cut the tip off when you smoke a cigar. It¡¯s not a rolly. Secondly, we save them for the end.¡±


    ¡°The end what?¡±


    ¡°The end.¡± The merc spread his arms about the room. ¡°Death, glory, victory. Whatever happens, that¡¯s when you smoke this thing, and you hope it¡¯s with the wind in your hair and your foot on the gas.¡±


    Andy smirked, tucking the cigar inside a pouch on his combat vest. He patted the pouch. ¡°Happy?¡±


    ¡°You bet.¡±


    ¡°What are these?¡± Clara asked about the UV bulbs.


    ¡°I found them at a pet store,¡± And said.  ¡°Ultraviolet bulbs. They emit a sort of version of sunlight. If we can hook them up to a power source, they could come in handy versus the vampy.¡±


    ¡°Good shout,¡± Clara said.


    The lady scientist¨CBallpit¨C joined them, exchanging small talk with Clara. Andy closed his eyes and wracked his brain for vampire puns he could use if it came to another epic confrontation.


    ¡°Think you could help me on this?¡± he said under his breath to his AI.


    Clarify query.


    ¡°I need a good one-liner to say to the vampire when I kill it.¡±


    Clarify query.


    ¡°Clarify what? Listen¡­ if you give me a good vampire pun, it¡¯ll make me way stronger in combat against it.¡±


    Confirm.


    ¡°I confirm. Now what you got?¡±


    Processing¡­ Pun generation one: I¡¯m here to add some garlic to your diet.


    ¡°That''s shit, and we don¡¯t have any garlic. Next.¡±


    Pun generation two: Time to cancel your subscription to immortality.


    ¡°Okay, stop. Never do that again. Forget I said anything.¡±


    Pun generation three-


    ¡°Stop.¡±


    You tried biting me, now bite the dust.


    ¡°Stop!¡±


    Clara nudged him. ¡°Everything okay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, just talking to my AI about my abilities. Really interesting stuff.¡±


    ¡°Remember our bet?¡± She nodded towards the Ballpit, who was using the duct tape to strengthen the barricade of tables propped up against the restaurant¡¯s plaza-side window.


    ¡°What do you want me to say?¡±


    ¡°Just ask her how she¡¯s doing.¡±


    Andy got up and walked over to the woman. She was almost two feet shorter than him, with black tangled hair tied in a ponytail. ¡°Is this alright?¡± she asked as he stood beside her.


    ¡°Yes. And you?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± he said.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay. A little afraid. Tired of waiting around, honestly.¡± She continued tapping the table legs together. In the heat of combat, Andy doubted her efforts would make any difference. ¡°I guess you¡¯re quite used to all this mayhem and violence?¡±


    ¡°Uh huh.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad somebody is. I don¡¯t think Linton and I are very suited for this line of work. We¡¯ve always been in high demand, and well protected. You¡¯re an Augmented person, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°Which Augment, may I ask?¡±


    ¡°Erm.¡± Andy forgot the official name for it. ¡°Guns.¡±


    ¡°Gunslinger?¡± Her eyes widened. ¡°I have never met anyone with a first generation Augmentation. Your breed are quite a rarity nowadays.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because generation one was the first wave. They took the most casualties. Not many survived. Wave two is more common, but of course, still very rare.¡±


    ¡°What wave are we on now?¡±


    Ballpit averted her eyes, busying herself with the duct tape and tables. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t understand the question.¡±


    ¡°What, er¡­¡± When Andy thought about it, neither did he. ¡°Just making small talk.¡±


    ¡°There were two waves of Augmentation development, before the Bulwark Project went dark. But nevermind that, I am happy knowing that a Gunslinger is protecting us tonight.¡±


    Andy flared his leather jacket open to reveal his arsenal. ¡°Well equipped too.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I can see-¡±


    ¡°Five frags, two smokes and flashes, my 9mm, an assault rifle over there,¡± Andy pointed at their stockpile on a nearby table. ¡°The HMG, that stands for humongous, massive gun. And Julie.¡± He patted his revolver in her holster. ¡°She¡¯s my babe.¡±


    Ballpit smiled, then pinched her lab coat and pulled it aside just enough to reveal a small pistol at her waist. ¡°I¡¯ve only got this little thing.¡±


    ¡°Do you know how to use that?¡±


    ¡°No, not really.¡±


    ¡°Then don¡¯t point it at me, or anywhere near me.¡± Andy was about to leave, when he caught Clara¡¯s admonishing glare. ¡°Other than that, good work.¡± He slapped the duct taped table barricade, and to his surprise, it didn¡¯t wobble and collapse.


    Andy left the fortified restaurant for his machine gun nest on the plaza balcony outside. He could see through the glass entrance that the sky was darkening, turning a blue-grey. The zombies outside were growing restless, banging their hands against the glass like flies trying to get in. Specs¨Cthe male scientist¨Chad piled small furniture up against the entrance, but it wouldn¡¯t do much to stop a horde once night arrived.


    Andy moved his stool so that he could rest one knee on it and man the tripod, which stood on a row of marble plant pots. The table barricade to either side of him provided some good cover, each was made from hardwood about two inches thick¨Cit should stop small-arms fire. He wandered around to the other¡¯s position built on the opposite side of the circular balcony beside the second escalator. There was a trolley full of absinthe molotovs, and an extension cord. A plug lay beside it, attached to a small battery¨Cthe same type he and Clara carried for their headlamps. The extension cord ran away down the length of the balcony, then it coiled up one of the steel beams bracketing the glass archway over the plaza¡¯s entrance. Andy wondered what would happen when the plug was connected. Almost against his will, he drifted towards connecting the cables.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mess with that,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to,¡± he lied.


    Motorbike engines buzzed outside the shopping mall. As the light dimmed, Andy could spot headlights cutting through the horde outside.


    ¡°Not long now,¡± Clara said. ¡°I¡¯ve briefed the others. Robert and Linton are going to stick behind this barricade, using the molotovs, focussing on the zombies. I¡¯ll be behind that mobile phone standwith Riddhi.¡± Clara pointed to a kiosk with a flat roof a few metres away from the balcony. ¡°I¡¯ve created some elevation so I¡¯ll have sights on the entrance, but I can¡¯t see the plaza below. I¡¯ll be hitting special targets, mainly, the cultists outside, or¡­ anything else.¡±


    ¡°Grams the vamps.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that. My assumption is that they¡¯ll use the zombies as a first wave to flush us out, then come in after to try and secure ground.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good. What do you want me to do?¡±


    Clara paused, seeming to gather her thoughts. ¡°Make sure the zombies don¡¯t get up those escalators. Make sure we don¡¯t get overwhelmed. But try and make your ammo last all night.¡±


    ¡°And save some for the baddy-boss,¡± Andy said. ¡°What do we do if our vampire friend returns?¡±


    ¡°Hopefully by then, there¡¯ll be less minions to deal with. We can focus our firepower.¡±


    ¡°And if he comes straight in?¡±


    ¡°Hit him with everything you¡¯ve got. The machine gun, grenades, flashbangs. If that doesn¡¯t work¡­¡± Clara looked behind him, checking for something. Outside the restaurant, Limpy¨Cthe merc¨Cwas demonstrating to the two scientists how to operate their pistols, where the safety was, what the hammer did, and how to change a magazine.


    ¡°If it goes tits up,¡± Clara said in a hushed voice. ¡°We grab the payload and make a run for it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be tough to outrun vamps.¡±


    Clara shrugged. ¡°When¡¯s it ever been easy?¡±


    Andy took his position in the machine gun nest and waited. He filled his flask with absinthe and swigged from the bottle. His head was fizzy with impatience. A handful of zombies lingered in the plaza below them, having wandered in from the ground floor corridor which led into the main shopping complex, where Andy had gone on a scavenging run earlier. Outside a zombie banged on the glass, drawing the attention of the undead inside. They stumbled up to the glass, knocking into the flimsy barricade of cafe tables and chairs which Specs had spent all afternoon building. Zombies on each side of the barrier stared at one another, pressing their hands against the glass like estranged family members in prison.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m willing to listen,¡± Andy said. ¡°How can I kill this thing?¡±


    Clarify query, his AI said.


    ¡°The vampire, obviously. Can you change me somehow?¡±


    Precompiled software routines are undergoing modifications to align with operational data inputs. Beta releases are accessible at user discretion and risk. Recalibration at the Augmentation Master Console is imperative.


    ¡°What does that mean? Just give me something, and not like this drunken monk bullshit. I need something to take down a vampire.¡±


    Processing¡­


    Andy waited in silence. Julie hummed at his waist to comfort him, like a faithful dog resting its muzzle on his lap.


    Zero suitable upgrades detected.


    ¡°Dammit, just when I thought I had you whipped.¡±


    Something thudded against the glass entrance, louder than a zombie¡¯s fist, then a bright green explosion burst at their feet, sending sparks lighting up the air. Another firework hit the glass, exploding in a flash of red. The zombies outside rushed towards the display, amassing behind the glass, pressing against it with crushing force. More fireworks exploded, lighting up the horde. Some sprayed fountains of sparks across the floor, others showered fairy lights softly above their heads. Then gunshots joined the assault. The glass chipped and cracked.


    ¡°Get ready!¡± Clara yelled. With a rush of adrenaline, Andy hopped off his seat and stood behind his barricade, assault rifle in hand. The furniture barricade downstairs fell apart. Zombies climbed over the obstacle, getting tangled up and falling down. More swarmed in behind the fallen, trampling them to dust. Once the barricade was broken, zombies frothed through the breach like a leak in an engine tank. Andy held his fire, letting his Augmentation swell in his veins. His heart beat steadily. Time seemed slower, more fluid, like the movement of each zombie was one much larger diagram of velocity, trajectory and priority targets. Though the absinth stuck to his tongue, the taste transformed to be more like vodka, with a modest rock of ice.


    Andy caught the current of the trajectory and fired a Miraculous Ricochet at the zombie in first place. The bullet smashed down into its spine then blew out of its back, skipping into four more behind it before thudding into a fith¡¯s chest, knocking it off its feet. It was a marvel to watch. The feeling was exhilarating, like hitting a perfect combination shot in pool.


    Glass cracked, and another breach opened. Zombies came pouring through into the plaza below. Some charged up the escalators, but slipped down the tables tied at the zenith. The rest of the horde sprinted through the plaza, a desperate feral hunger on their gaunt faces.


    ¡°There must be a sale on at Primark.¡± Andy shouted over to Clara, who was positioned behind him, atop her kiosk. Then he remembered they had radios. He repeated the joke down their channel.


    ¡°I heard you the first time,¡± Clara said, firing her marksman¡¯s rifle. ¡°Focus.¡±


    ¡°Hah! Good one Andy,¡± Limpy said. Someone must have given the merc a radio.


    Outside, in the distance, two vans positioned themselves behind the horde. Cultists stood on the rooftops, firing fireworks which zipped over the zombie¡¯s heads and crashed into the glass like giant phosphorous arrows. One firework zipped inside the plaza and exploded. The zombies below flopped around in a frenzy, bashing into one another, working up a rage. They piled up on the escalators, charging up the steps and falling over the sides. Some collapsed onto the tables, providing a purchase for those behind to climb. Andy shot one that got too close to the top, flinging it backwards off the escalator.


    A hundred heads snapped towards him at once. A shiver ran up his spine. The zombies rampaged up the steps, attracted to the sound, overflowing onto the tables like a champagne bottle shaken to burst. Andy settled into his rifle¡¯s stock, trying to imagine each bullet¡¯s trajectory leaving the barrel. Hazy lights zipped before him, drawing lines between zombie¡¯s heads like connecting the dots on a kid¡¯s colouring book. Andy took each shot as they appeared to him, but the lights were faint and hard to catch while firing in bursts on full-auto. He was hitting headshots, but wasting ammo just killing one zombie with one bullet.


    Standing atop the plant pot, Andy drew a clearer line of fire down the escalator, and the lights before him expanded before him. He pulled the trigger, delighted to see one bullet pass through a dozen undead¡¯s heads. Switching to single-fire mode, Andy picked his shots, each Mirraculous Richochet killing ten zombies apiece. They collapsed in unison as though their team had just lost the tug of war.


    On the opposite side of the balcony, the merc fired his pistol into zombies climbing their escalators. The scientist man lit a molotov cocktail and threw it at the steps. It shattered against the railing, spraying liquid fire beneath it. Not a great throw. Andy watched him try again and miss, sending the bottle flying straight over the escalator into the plaza below. The merc had a turn, and did a better job of, setting one of the escalators alight. The zombies went up like tinder, their dried up bodies smoking and crackling like dry leaves. One fell over the barricade, a flaming ball of light, trailing thick smoke above it.


    Something clanged off the balcony railing beside him. ¡°Andy, get down,¡± Clara said over the radio, firing her rifle.


    Andy jumped off his vantage point and took cover behind his barricade as shots pelted the marble plant pots he had been standing on. Outside, the two vans had driven closer, parking themselves within shooting distance of the entryway. Andy considered killing them, but he trusted Clara to take the shots. Besides, she was the one with a scope, and his job was with the zombies.


    As he neared the end of his rifle¡¯s magazine, he switched back to full-auto and cleared a swathe of undead climbing the escalator, then reloaded. An embankment of bodies spilled out below the escalator. Zombies tried desperately to climb up the landslide of bodies, but staggered and fell on the uneven footing, making it even harder for those behind them to progress. They writhed in a pile like worms, getting caught and tangled in one another. What this strain of zombies possessed in feral energy, they lacked in motor skills.


    A fire was raging on the opposite side of the plaza. Smoke billowed from the horde, rising to the high roof above them. The flames spread like wildfire, creeping up their elevators, melting the rubber hand railings and blackening the glass barrier. It stunk of mouldy dust, like old, rotting leather, soaked in absinthe. Andy coughed and wrinkled his nose as smoke wafted his way.


    Clara¡¯s rifle thudded behind him. Andy spotted one of the goths roll off the rooftop of his van and into the horde below. His comrade tried to grab him, but ended up getting pulled down too. Both vans revved their engines and began turning out of sight. Finally, an excuse. Andy jumped on his machine gun and opened fire. Bullets punched through the glass entryway, flying over the heads of a thousand compacted zombies before slamming into one of the vehicles. The high calibre rounds ripped through the bonnet and front seats, halting it in its tracks. Andy turned his sights on the second van, tearing through the passenger compartment as it attempted to make a U turn and flee. Abruptly, the van stopped.


    ¡°See anyone getting out,¡± he radioed Clara.


    ¡°Two, but they both got caught by their own zombies.¡±


    ¡°Damn, that¡¯s satisfying.¡±


    One last fountain firework spat sparks in the car park outside, then it went dark. The crackle of flames accompanied the dry-throated hissing of emaciated zombies below. The horde rustled amongst one another, like a box of wood shavings being rattled. He and the others ceased fire. The zombies in the plaza below were drawn to the flames like moths. They piled around their dying kin, sticking their hands into the flames like curious children. The mass of bodies snuffed out the fires, depriving them of oxygen, but the merc kept topping the pyres alive with more cocktails. Each incendiary bomb burned through dozens of zombies. If there was an apocalyptic leaderboard, their kill count would definitely have made a new high score.


    Before long, the plaza was carpeted with corpses beneath a thick layer of ash. Flames ate into the plastic chairs which had been used to barricade the entrance. The little coffee shop was in ruin. Smoke filled the air, obscuring Andy¡¯s vision in the dark. He wiped his eyes, breathing into his t-shirt. The stench was horrible. He took a swig of absinthe, but the taste reminded him of the molotov cocktails.


    There was a crash on the opposite side of the plaza. A half-burned table rattled down the metal steps and tumbled into the plaza below. The rope and duct tape used to tie them in place must have burned through.


    ¡°Status,¡± Clara said. ¡°What¡¯s your ammo?¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± he said. New ability works like a charm against hordes.


    ¡°New ability?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah. Magic Bullet Theory. Our robot friend gave me an upgrade on the ghost train.¡±


    ¡°You waited a while to tell me.¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t come up.¡±


    ¡°Next time, make it come up.¡± Clara dashed over to the other escalators, chatting with the two men stationed there. Andy kept an eye on the entrance, squinting through the smoke as Clara and the others attempted to build a new barricade on the stairs. Feral zombies wandered in from outside, navigating clumsily around the cluttered, body-bogged plaza below. Andy stalked them with his ironsights, ready to dispatch them if they got too close to the other escalators, but they seemed more interested in the burning furniture and smoky ruins of undead, attracted to the lights and sounds of burning.


    Clara approached his gunner¡¯s nest. ¡°I don¡¯t think we can fix the barricade. It¡¯d mean taking tables from inside the restaurant, and I don¡¯t want to compromise our fall-back position. Plus, it¡¯d take two of us to do the work, and that could take a while. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s worth it.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°If there¡¯s another attack, focus fire on the opposite escalator. Don¡¯t let the horde get to the top.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t I just go over there?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°No. This escalator can¡¯t become overrun or we¡¯ll be cut off from our retreat.¡± Clara nodded at the restaurant behind them. ¡°Stay here, and create as much noise as you want. Draw them this way.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha-ya.¡±


    Clara darted about the plaza, handing out ration bars and bottles of water. Then they waited. Explosions detonated outside, the same as those which had been going all day. Presumably, the cultists were attracting a new horde. They probably wouldn¡¯t need all day to do it this time, with the zombies being more active at night. Sure enough, before an hour passed, headlights brightened the car park again and zombies gathered around the glass. If all they had planned was to send in another wave of undead, then Andy had more than enough ammo to handle it. He hadn¡¯t even had to draw Julie yet, or throw a grenade.


    But Andy doubted that would be the case. Andy searched the skies. Perhaps it would take the vampire more than one day to recover from its defeat. Perhaps it was counting on its minions to do the job. If so, in the morning, he and Clara would stage a counterattack, steal a vehicle, and beat it west.


    There was a distant detonation behind him. It rumbled in the soles of his boots. Andy frowned, that was different to the rest. But he didn¡¯t have time to think about it. A volley of gunshots rang out and a wave of zombies crashed into the entrance, shattering what remained of the glass at its base. The second wave had begun.

 Chapter 28 - Possessed

    The hissing, heaving sound grew like a punctured valve as Zombies charged into the plaza below, heading straight for each of the elevators. Andy¡¯s rifle cut through them down as Miraculous Ricochet lines danced before his eyes. But something was off. They were faster than before¨Cmore purposeful. A fire smoked in the purple depths of their eyes. Wisps of smoke escaped each exit wound, blowing like snuffed candles. Zombies stampeded to the top of the escalator opposite him, stomping through a carpet of charred bodies, kicking up black dust. Andy slung his rifle over his shoulder and mounted the machine gun, firing on the escalator opposite him. But as he opened fire, his Augmentation¡¯s guidelines faded away¨Cseemingly, the HMG¡¯s rounds were too penetrative to ricochet off the zombies¡¯ skeletons. They blasted through the compact horde, tearing through limbs, smashing spines and skulls to pieces. Zombies fell in droves, but those behind them leapt over the corpses of their brethren, barely slowing.


    A zombie pounced at him, crashing into his barricade and falling over the balcony into the plaza below. They had reached the top of the elevator beside him, climbing over the railings to get around the tables. That level of cognition was new, but there was no time to contemplate it. He had to act. Andy drew Julie and fired a Vortex Shot into the horde. The power rushed through him and into Julie¨Cthe two of them entwined like a gyroscopic force, swelling to a climax which took him by surprise. Julie screamed, blowing apart everything in her path. He fired twice more, relishing each vortex, the soft pushback of Julie¡¯s recoil steady in his grasp. Each Vortex Shot cleared the elevator, but just as quickly as he exhaled, relishing in ecstasy, another wave surmounted the steps, charging towards his barricade.


    Attention: Experimental programming initialised.


    Andy barely registered the AI¡¯s voice as a warm rush filled body. He climbed atop the marble plant pots and aimed Julie down the escalator, holding her outstretched in both hands. Energy swelled from his feet to the tip of his skull, then compacted into a single, powerfully unstable cell in the centre of his chest. The space around them was drawn towards Julie¡¯s muzzle, warping reality, twisting and pulling into him. The pressure was immense, but Andy held them both in the moment, feeling the energy rage inside him, a liquid fire of hormones and electricity and something else. Love?


    Andy squeezed the trigger. The pressure shot down his arms and into Julie¡¯s slender mechanism. She screamed in his grasp. The vortex they summoned was ear splitting. Andy was flung backwards as it roared down the escalator and through the plaza, obliterating everything in its path, a whirlwind of devastation that rained down a clatter of bones and body parts in a cloud of dust left in its wake.


    Slamming into the floor, Andy skidded to a halt. He dropped Julie, and she slid up to his face. For a moment, the two of them lay there, recovering. ¡°Woo baby, you¡¯ve got some kick!¡±


    Andy unscrewed his hip flask with one hand and knocked the absinthe back, rising to his feet. ¡°You gotta be gentle to me,¡± he said, staggering back towards the balcony. Beneath him, zombies on the periphery of the massive vortex blast were getting to their feet. Some were crawling across the ground, their bodies blown apart, their heads intact. Hundreds more were lifeless, corpses once again.


    Vortex Cannon upgrade initialised, his AI said. Power expenditure unstable. User discretion advised.


    A gunshot whizzed past his head. Andy holstered Julie and slung his rifle around, firing on the cultists outside. A group of them had approached the glass on foot, unassailed by the horde. Zombies sprinted past them as though they weren¡¯t there, despite the crackle of their rifles.


    ¡°Get down!¡± Clara yelled behind him, echoing in his radio channel. Andy ducked into the cover as gunshots pelted the marble pillar behind him and slammed into the heavy tables of his barricade, shaking them with each thud. Clara returned fire from the roof of her kiosk behind him, but the horde of zombies ate the shots, charging past the cultists to get inside the plaza.


    ¡°The breach,¡± Clara radioed. Andy jumped on his machine gun just in time to fire into the zombies on the opposite escalator, stemming the tide. Limpy fought atop the steps, lodging his hatchet in the skull of a zombie trying to climb over their small barricade of tables. The scientist stood behind him, flinching as he fired his pistol into another. They wouldn¡¯t last a second if the full force of the horde breached.


    Spent shell casings flew past Andy¡¯s face as he pulled the HMG¡¯s muzzle down, carving through the horde. But then his gun clicked dry. ¡°Empty,¡± he yelled over the sound of gunfire feeding the remaining belt into the tray. Since he had fired the Vortex Cannon, the horde had avoided his escalator. Andy gritted his teeth as he squeezed the trigger, spitting carnage across the plaza. Wisps of black smoke spurted from his targets, obscured by the haze of decimated flesh kicked up by his high calibre rounds.


    Cultists poured in through the entrance, taking cover behind the steel beams which held up the large glass archway above their heads. Bullets shook his barricade as they advanced. A close shave sprayed splinters over his gloves and the sleeve of his jacket. On the balcony opposite, zombies climbed over the congested dead, slamming into the barriced one at a time, knocking it backwards, their bodies compressed against the sides. Slowly but surely, they were being overrun.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Limpy dispatched a zombie with his hatchet, then the scientist took his place at the front of their barricade. The merc ducked out of view, then a drum-roll of explosions detonated above their heads. Like a cymbal crash, a hail of glass shards plummeted towards the plaza¨Ca sudden blizzard of razor-sharp ice and twinkling shards. It reminded Andy of Christmas. The glass pelted the plaza below, raining death on the cultists. They screamed, covering their faces, but the glass ripped them to shreds, cutting through their leather jackets like butter. Some fled for the exit, but Clara gunned them down. Others collapsed on the floor, bleeding profusely. That caught the zombies¡¯ attention. The purple glaze in their eyes diminished as many turned to feast, as though noticing the goths for the first time.


    For the few seconds Andy had been distracted, admiring the carnage, the zombies had surmounted the escalator barricade opposite. Andy picked up his HMG again, turning its barrel on the breach, but a few forerunners got through. One grabbed Specs as Limpy fended them off, shoving and chopping with his handaxe. Andy stemmed the oncoming tide, but didn¡¯t trust himself to hit an accurate shot with HMG against those in melee¨Cthe recoil was too much, and if he missed and killed one of their tag-alongs, Clara would never let him hear the end of it.


    Suddenly, the HMG stopped kicking back. It was jammed. Andy ripped the feed open and wrenched the lever back, freeing the mechanism. He didn¡¯t have to look to know what he was doing, the procedure had been downloaded into his brain without his knowing. He had it functional again within five seconds, but in that time, half a dozen zombies had climbed the escalator and were bearing down on the defenders. The merc and scientist fell back, firing their pistols as they fled. Clara picked her shots from the kiosk, but Andy¡¯s angle wasn¡¯t good enough. Fixing his posture, and braced and lifted the machine gun up to his hip. His forearms felt like steel beams in his iron grip as his brand new Heavy Weaponry skill pumped steroids into his muscles, fixing his posture and strengthening his bones. He retreated to Clara¡¯s position, firing bursts of shots across the plaza. The HMG¡¯s recoil rippled through his body like waves, causing him to sway and pulsate, forcing him to fix his legs while he fired.


    ¡°This is the last of them,¡± Clara shouted. ¡°Stand and fight.¡±


    An explosion sounded from behind. Andy swung around. There were no corridors which led from the first floor to anywhere else in the shopping district, except for access to stairwells at the back of shops. But they had locked the doors and closed the shutters on what storefronts possessed them. Cultists must have snuck in and planted explosives. There was another detonation, and movement flickered in the shadows behind shop windows. Zombies slammed against the glass all around them. Suddenly, they were surrounded, but Andy held his fire. For now, they were separated by the glass. That gave them seconds.


    ¡°Get back,¡± he shouted to Clara. She leapt down from the kiosk, but then gunshots shattered the glass, and zombies poured in. They tore through a display poster in the window, stumbling into the plaza, streaming towards them with a single-minded hunger. Andy squeezed the trigger, arching his machine gun like a scythe, mowing the horde down. Someone screamed behind him. Andy¡¯s head snapped around as his heart stopped, but it wasn¡¯t Clara. A zombie had grabbed Ballpit. She ducked and ran, but in the wrong direction. Andy returned his attention to the surmounting horde, stepping backwards towards their fortified position as the machine gun bucked in his hands. He could see Ballpit in the corner of his eye going the wrong way. Clara and the others were behind him, near their fall-back point.


    ¡°Help her!¡± Clara screamed, dropping to one knee, shooting the assailants.


    Ballpit fired her pistol point-blank, stumbling over, emptying the clip in a matter of seconds. But Andy couldn¡¯t spare a second¨Cthe moment he unfocussed on the horde, they would be overrun. Beside him, Clara dropped her rifle and drew her pistol, but a new stream of undead charged at them sidelong. Within seconds, her magazine was empty again. They were too exposed. Andy shoved her back with shoulder, never taking his finger off the trigger until they were at their barricade.


    Dipping through the restaurant doorway, Andy caught one last glimpse of Ballpit buried beneath the crush of bodies. Her golden eyes pierced the blackness, then they were gone. She screamed, and in the absence of gunfire, the sound was piercingly shrill amongst the dry white-noise hiss of the horde. Andy drew Julie¨Cfor some reason, that seemed more proper than the HMG¨Caimed down her ironsights and put the woman out of her misery.


    Andy was dragged inside and the doors closed after him. Limpy thread a plank through the handles as bodies slammed into the other side. The windows were fortified with heavy tables, piled two-high and three-deep.


    Clara grabbed Andy¡¯s shoulder and took him to the dining alcove where their supplies were sorted. Among them were the trinkets he¡¯d gathered in case they had to fight the vampire. Clara¡¯s eyes were wide, but focussed. She seized the payload. ¡°We can make it out the back.¡±


    ¡°Steal a vehicle?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯ll be plenty from the cultists we killed. The horde¡¯s up here now. Quickly.¡± She shouted to the others and ran into the kitchen area. Andy watched them leave. A weight expanded in his chest, solidifying his limbs. He wanted to move, to fight the feeling, but knew he couldn¡¯t. He didn¡¯t want this to be the last time he saw his sister, but it was. He had to die, and she had to live.


    Andy placed his machine gun against the wall and followed the group into the kitchen, at the back of which, a door which led into an access stairwell. The stairwell would take Clara to a loading area outside. Andy waited for the last of the tag-alongs to follow his sister through the door, then latched it shut behind them. He returned to the main room, retrieving his machine gun, facing the barricades. Zombies battered the glass beyond. Gunshots pelted their defences. Andy thumbed his radio on, but the words escaped him.


    ¡°Idiot,¡± he growled, taking a swig from his hip flask. He emptied and pocketed the flask beside his cigar. Limpy had said to smoke it at the end, but this wasn¡¯t the end yet. He still had to kill the vampire, or else it would catch them on the road. The night was young, and they didn¡¯t stand a chance outrunning it.


    A zombie pressed its face against the glass, purple eyes drenched in blackness. Something looked at him from behind those eyes. Not the lifeless vestige of an animal mind¨Csomething cognisant and powerful.


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m coming. Just you fucking wait.¡±

 Chapter 29 - The Payload

    ¡°Where¡¯s Andy,¡± Clara said. She shone her headlamp around the dark loading bay, checking for danger lurking behind the dusty storage shelves. Nearby, Robert approached the exit door, pistol in hand. He was covered in sweat, his bandages had come loose and yesterday¡¯s wounds were bleeding.


    ¡°I¡¯m not bitten,¡± he said, catching her eye. She had to trust him for now.


    Linton fell to his knees panting. He was holding a hatchet covered in the ashen residue of the undead. He looked at Clara, his wide, frightened eyes dug into her face as if they were searching for a handhold in the abyss.


    Clara turned towards the stairwell, activating her radio. ¡°Andy, come in.¡± She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as the quiet around her swept in. Clara took a step towards the stairwell. Why had he fallen behind?


    ¡°Sis.¡± He held his thumb on the radio. She could hear gunfire echo on the radio channel as it did above their heads. The sound was a muted patter a few rooms above their heads. That meant he was far away, back at the top of the stairs. Had he even left the restaurant?


    ¡°He¡¯s here,¡± Andy said. ¡°You run, I¡¯ll catch up.¡±


    ¡°No. That¡¯s not the plan.¡±


    ¡°Go.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean go?¡± Clara dropped her heavy marksman¡¯s rifle and jogged back towards the stairwell. The rifle was empty, as was her submachine gun which was strapped to her backpack. Only her .45 pistol held a magazine left. Above her, the bursts of gunfire thudded through the floorboards like a far off mason¡¯s hammer. ¡°We can¡¯t leave yet if you¡¯re not here.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t try coming for me,¡± Andy radioed between a break in the gunfire. Clara stopped in her tracks. She wasn¡¯t sure if the pounding sound which followed was the machine gun fire or her heartbeat.


    ¡°I¡¯ve locked the door.¡±


    Clara stammered for the right words. ¡°What the fuck are you talking about?¡±


    There was a pause over the channel. ¡°You have to go.¡±


    ¡°No, Andy, don¡¯t be stupid. Stop wasting time. Get down here now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not arguing with you.¡± His voice was small, almost a whisper. She could barely hear it over the radio interference and gunshots. ¡°I¡¯ll see you in town.¡±


    ¡°Andy, please.¡± Tears welled in Clara¡¯s eyes. Why was he doing this? Her breath caught in her throat. ¡°Not like this, not now.¡±


    The radio crackled, but Andy was silent.


    ¡°Andy?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s now,¡± he said. ¡°Thanks for everything.¡±


    The sound of heavy gunfire replaced the radio static. Clara stood statuesque, trying to process what had just happened. The scientist said something behind her, but it fell into the void with all the rest of reality. He¡¯s here. Andy intended to fight that demon alone so that she could escape. It was the dead of night when the vampire was at its most powerful. There was no way Andy would survive. She could flee, and obey his last wish, or run upstairs, break the door down and fight alongside him, and die here, tonight, now. No more birdsong. No more sunsets. No more fresh morning breeze. No more submerging her head in a lake, warming by a campfire; the smell of woodsmoke filling their jeep the next morning. No more long drives through the silent wasteland, catching a glimpse of peace on Andy¡¯s face while he slept. Clara choked up. She didn¡¯t know if she could stomach the drive alone.


    ¡°What are we doing here?¡± Linton said behind her. Clara turned her chin, but remained facing the stairwell upwards.


    ¡°We need to leave now,¡± he continued. ¡°If he¡¯s going to stay behind and sacrifice himself, then we need to take advantage of that.¡±


    ¡°Take advantage?¡± Clara turned on him. ¡°Who do you think you are?¡±


    ¡°I just mean, don¡¯t let his sacrifice be in vain.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s up there fighting for me, not you. Not this.¡± She hefted the metal briefcase in his face. ¡°What¡¯s inside this that¡¯s worth Andy¡¯s life?¡±


    Linton closed his mouth. ¡°I won¡¯t say.¡±


    ¡°You best fucking talk.¡± Clara put her hand on her sidearm. ¡°Convince me.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you say? Is it a weapon, is that why? You don¡¯t want us using it?¡±


    Something shifted in Linton¡¯s expression. His eyes darted to the payload, then to her, then to Robert. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to say something?¡± he whined. ¡°This is your mission too isn¡¯t it? Blue Eyes hired you too.¡±


    The merc¡¯s face creased. His eyes flitted to the sidearm at Clara¡¯s waist, then met hers. ¡°This is all yours.¡± He opened the exit door, and a cold breeze rushed into the room. ¡°Au revoir.¡±


    ¡°Consider your debt repaid,¡± Clara said as the door closed behind him, isolating her and Linton in the glow of her headlamp. ¡°Open the briefcase.¡± Clara approached him and flipped it onto a nearby shelf, but kept a hold of the handle.


    ¡°Never.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll open it right now.¡± Clara spoke in a slow, low tone.


    ¡°Or what?¡±


    Her hand slid into place around the handle of her pistol. It would be so easy to draw. ¡°Or you¡¯ll die.¡±


    ¡°What are you going to do?¡± he stammered. ¡°Kill me like your brother did Riddhi?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll die tonight.¡± Clara¡¯s own fear slipped into the threat. ¡°In here, or out there.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just research. Very important research.¡±


    ¡°Prove it.¡± Clara took her hand off the briefcase and stepped back, ushering him to her side. There was a coded lock on each latch. ¡°Open it.¡±


    Above them, the heavy gunfire ceased. Andy must be out of machine gun ammo. He was facing down the horde alone. That wasn¡¯t right.


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    Linton lowered his chin and snarled. ¡°Blue Eyes will kill you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit late to worry about that.¡±


    ¡°Would you really betray him?¡±


    Clara felt dizzy with emotion¨Cher anxiety, fear of death, and sorrow for deserting Andy, it clouded in her mind. ¡°Prove that this is the payload,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°It obviously is. I know it is.¡±


    ¡°Prove it! We¡¯re not dying for it if it isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I know it¡¯s the payload,¡± Linton said incredulously. ¡°This is useless, you know.¡± He took a step towards the briefcase, the hatchet lowered at his side. ¡°You¡¯re in denial. It¡¯s obvious.¡± He shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s too late to turn back. Your brother has made his decision. He¡¯s likely already been bitten. I know it¡¯s hard, but we must leave now.¡±


    Clara glared at him silently. The words escaped her, reasoning spluttered in a deluge of adrenaline.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let your brother¡¯s sacrifice go in vain.¡±


    Clara drew her pistol and fired. Linton ducked and screamed, clutching his face. ¡°You shot me!¡±


    ¡°I shot the wall, idiot.¡±


    The scientist dabbed a drop of blood on his cheek. ¡°You shot me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s shrapnel. Do you want the real thing?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re crazy.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Clara aimed the pistol at his chest. ¡°Last chance.¡±


    Linton shuffled towards the payload, his eyes fixed on the muzzle of her pistol. Clara shone her headlamp on the code as he tampered with the lock. There was a satisfying click, then a second. Clara jammed her pistol into Linton¡¯s ribs, shoving him aside, and opened the lid. Her headlamp shone off a cylindrical object, nestled in the centre of thick foam padding. Circuitry ran the length of the tube, ending in nodes along its glass, much like the electronics fitted to an Augmentation Master Console. The object was definitely Bulwark technology, or heavily inspired. Clara reached for the cylinder.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Linton said, but she ignored him. Something about the technology was oddly familiar, like a face she had seen before in pictures and posters, but never before up close. Her eyes went wide, her heart stopped. It couldn¡¯t be¡­


    Linton grabbed her hand. Clara jumped as her pistol fired without her meaning to shoot it. She squeezed the handle and trigger as Linton tried to wrench it off her. Clara pulled back, but the man raised his hatchet. Like a dart, Clara threw a jab into his nose, smacking the glasses off his face. She drew him in close, wrapping her arm over his shoulder and around his bicep pinning his elbow to his ribs. The hatchet bobbed weakly beside her face, but she leaned away from the sharp edge.


    ¡°That¡¯s not yours to take,¡± Linton shouted, clinging to her like a tick.


    Clara wrestled with him, keeping her finger tight on the trigger, the muzzle of her pistol jammed into his hip. It would be so easy to kill him, just release and pull the trigger again. ¡°Idiot. I¡¯ll shoot you.¡±


    ¡°Fuck off.¡± Linton dropped his hatchet and unravelled from her grasp. He yanked on her pistol arm like a dog on a chew-toy, pulling her off balance. Clara kicked him in the knee and he buckled, but raised himself again. Steadying herself, Clara kicked him again. Her heavy boot connected behind his kneecap, tenderising his tendons. Linton crumpled, but pulled her arm down with his weight. She fell to one knee, focussed on not letting go of her pistol, but Linton released his hold and scrambled up after the payload. He slammed the lid shut and dashed for the door.


    Clara tried to catch him, but he skirted past her. There was no other choice. Aiming at his legs, Clara fired. Linton screamed and slammed into the floor, dropping the payload, sending it spinning across the floor. Clara got to her feet, panting, fighting to compose herself. Beneath her, Linton clutched at his shin, curling into a ball, winning like a hurt child. The pistol weighed like lead in Clara¡¯s hands. She holstered it and strode over to the payload.


    Opening it once more, she drew the cylinder from its padding. A silver tube was capped with a red plastic lid, shaped like a nipple. There was a button on the other end. She unfastened the lid, and gasped. There were three needles beneath it, one silver, one golden, and one a metallic blue. It had to be Augmentation Serum. Linton¡¯s research team must have figured out how to reverse engineer the technology. It was the perfect weapon, a technology designed by humanity¡¯s best scientists to ensure the species¡¯ survival in the end of days.


    Clara brought the needles to her wrist. Her heart pounded, engorging the veins. She swallowed, throat dry, then pressed it against her skin of her wrist.


    ¡°Not there,¡± Linton said, shakily replacing his crooked glasses. He was watching her, white faced. Blood trickled through his fingers, clutching his wound. He shivered, but his eyes were alert. ¡°In the elbow. The crease.¡±


    Clara narrowed her eyes at him, but stayed her hand.


    The older scientist bore his teeth. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare waste it.¡±


    Clara took a breath. Could she trust him? What mattered more to the scientist, revenge, or his life¡¯s work? She traced the cylinder over the crook of her elbow, finding a blue artery there, juicy like a worm, and plunged the needle in. Thumb on the trigger, she activated the serum.


    Fire roared in her veins. Clara gripped the cylinder as it spread throughout her arm, burning through her hand, setting her fingers alight. She yelped and knelt over, clutching her arm and the serum to her chest.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let go-¡± Linton continued to speak to her, but his voice was lost in the maelstrom. Clara gritted her teeth as liquid fire burned through her shoulder and poured into her chest. She arched her back in agony, each breath a cry of pain. Curling into a ball, her arm pulsated where the needle latched like a hot poker, searing her flesh. The flames spread through her hips and legs, and into her throat. Her cries cut out as suddenly, she struggled for breath. It was as though her muscles wouldn¡¯t respond¨Can ability which she had taken for granted all her life suddenly ceased. Clara choked, flexing her jaw, squeezing her abdomen. The pressure swelled inside her skull, boiling her eyeballs in their sockets.


    Her vision faded to black. Orange lights danced before her eyes as the flames engulfed her. There was no longer a separation. Clara was the embers, white hot to the bone. The power suffocated her as every muscle in her body contracted, her heart struggled to beat, her lungs compressed, her blood trickled to a drip.


    She was somewhere else, somewhere familiar, somewhere in the beginning of things. Andy dove upon her and pushed her half under the bonnet of a truck. He stooped over her, his leather jacket opening up like the wings of a bird. Clara could smell him over the smoke and ruin¨Cspilt whiskey lacquered his leather jacket, soaked in sweat spiced with liquor. Something snapped inside and her lungs filled with air.


    The vision faded. Clara wheezed and spluttered, each breath felt like swallowing shards of ice. Rolling onto her back, limbs outstretched, Clara gulped the dusty air while her body settled. Her arms and legs spasmed, but she just lay there and let it happen. The concrete felt cold beneath her. It was dark. Slowly, her sense of self returned, like a book with splotched pages, missing words in chunks, missing meaning in time, but forming an image. As hot blood gushed pleasurably through her limbs, it cleansed the pages, clearing the splotches, reforming a narrative in her mind.


    Her headlamp lay nearby. Reattaching it, she tried to rise, but the pain in her abdomen kept her down.


    ¡°Wait a moment,¡± Linton said. He was sitting against the wall beside the exit. ¡°Let it take effect. You need rest.¡±


    Clara heaved herself to her knees. She was coated in sweat. Weakly, she unslung her backpack and took a sip of water. Then put her head in her hands. She felt sick, but as the water touched her stomach, the feeling faded. Her hands and feet tingled with the sensation of pins and needles, throbbing with each beat of her heart. She clenched her fists. The sensations flowed into the centre of her hand, directed by her willpower and the strength of her grasp.


    ¡°How does it feel?¡± Linton asked. He could have easily killed her while she was convulsing, or bandaged his wound, or made a run for it, but instead, he just sat and observed.


    ¡°Strange.¡± Something emanated within her hand. A soft golden light pulsated in her fist.


    ¡°It works,¡± Linton gasped. ¡°We did it.¡±


    Clara raised her head towards the ceiling. Her body thrummed with energy as every muscle and cell vibrated to the same frequency. The hairs stood up on her arms. Her nostrils flared. She stretched her spine, feeling each of her vertebrae align like a conduit. Clara rose to her feet, no longer shaking. She retrieved her pistol where it lay on the concrete.


    ¡°What now?¡± he asked.


    Clara turned her back on him, heading towards the stairwell at the rear.


    ¡°You can¡¯t leave,¡± he stammered, too weak to yell. ¡°You will waste it. You will die.¡±


    ¡°No one¡¯s dying tonight,¡± Clara said to herself.


    ¡°Thief. You are my property now. You are mine. My work. My life¡¯s work¡­¡± As Clara climbed the stairs, Linton¡¯s sobs died to whispers.

 Chapter 30 - Ultra Violent

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    A zombie staggered into view. Andy trained his rifle on it, but paused. The thing was unmoving, as though it was listening to him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not running anywhere,¡± Andy said. All around him, zombies wandered out of the shadows. Purple ink pooled in their eyes as he shone the beam of his headlamp on them. They watched him, heads limp on their shoulders. Due to his Agumentation¡¯s Combat Conceptualisation module, Andy knew exactly how many rounds he had left in the magazine just by feeling the weight of his rifle¨Cnot enough to kill every zombie in the building, but that wasn¡¯t his intention.


    ¡°The rooftop,¡± he said, following the same access passageway which he¡¯d used earlier with Clara. The zombies followed him slowly, keeping their distance, then waited at the door as he climbed the stairwell to the roof. Outside, cold air kissed his face. He walked out onto the rooftop. As his ears recovered from the ringing¨Canother perk which came with being a super soldier¨CAndy was surprised by how oddly quiet the night was. There were no engines outside, no gunfire. Only him and Julie.


    Alert, his AI said over the fading tinnitus. Threat level: Severe.


    ¡°I need you to be quiet for a while,¡± Andy said. ¡°You¡¯re not going to understand this, so just shut up and let me do my job.¡±


    Affirmative.


    Andy propped his rifle against a ventilation pipe and sat down. He took out the cigar and lighter. What had the merc said? Chop off the end? Andy sliced through the roll with his combat knife, then took a drag, smacking his lips. It gave him a bit of a rush, but didn¡¯t taste great. Smoking didn¡¯t really suit him, you could only get so high off it, and constantly rolling cigs was a faff. But he¡¯d made a promise to the merc, and he had a code. Andy dragged as much as he could take then blew a cloud. As the smoke dissipated, what replaced it was a deeper black than the night¡¯s sky. A face appeared in the blackness, pale and baleful.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a request,¡± Andy said, taking another drag.


    ¡°Speak.¡± The vampire¡¯s black wings shuddered as he spoke. His voice was resounding, as if resonating through its entire form.


    ¡°Bite me. Feed on me, or whatever. I want to be your disciple.¡±


    ¡°Thou art unsuitable.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that, I¡¯m really edgy, you know. I¡¯d fit right in. Look, I even smoke.¡±


    ¡°Witless fool. Thy blood is squandered upon thee; a swine wallowing in wine. I shall ingest thy might, and thereby ascend to godhood.¡±


    ¡°Alright then, how about this?¡± Andy dragged on his cigar. ¡°I won¡¯t put up any resistance.¡± He patted Julie. ¡°I won¡¯t fight back. Take your time. But stay here, you know. Bit me, then cuddle me. Give me a bit of aftercare.¡±


    In the car park below them, the rev of an engine broke the night¡¯s silence. Clara must have found a vehicle. She was going to be safe.


    ¡°I will do with you as I please. Resist or not, the night is long, and thy endurance dwindles.¡±


    ¡°You know I can make this difficult for you,¡± Andy said. ¡°Just spare my sister.¡±


    The vampire appeared before him on a column of smoke. It stood nine feet tall, dressed in a regal black gown with a tall spiked collar. Eyes like two polished obsidian gems beheld him. It extended an arm, slender fingers ended in hawk-like nails.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Andy said. ¡°Let me finish my cigar?¡±


    The vampire flicked its finger, and Andy¡¯s cigar went out.


    ¡°Got a light?¡± Andy asked.


    The vampire grabbed him under the chin. Long fingers wrapped around his neck, fingernails pierced his spine. Andy winced and ground his teeth. The vampire pulled him to its chest then wrapped its jaws around his throat. Primal terror warred with Andy¡¯s willpower. But this was no time for fear. This was his only chance to redeem himself for the terrible vampire pun that he¡¯d made last night.


    ¡°That¡¯s alright,¡± Andy said, wincing as fangs pierced his flesh. ¡°I¡¯ve got a spare.¡± He unpinned one of five frag grenades strapped to his chest. Beneath his shirt was the plastic bag full of silver jewellery. It would act as shrapnel in the explosion. Whether it harmed the vampire or not, he would never know. But by then, he¡¯d be in pieces, and wouldn¡¯t care.


    Andy¡¯s muscles squeezed and contracted as the blood was sucked from his veins, but he focussed on clenching the grenade¡¯s safety catch. Every second could count¨Cthe longer he kept old vamps distracted, the more likely Clara was to escape. Black spots appeared in his vision. His Augmentation pumped steroids into his veins, but they were just as quickly drained from him. His mind flickered. He was close now, the pain was fading, the end was near. There was a profound sense that he was coming home.


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    The sound of gunshots pierced his numbness. Andy squirmed in the vampire¡¯s grip to look towards the sound. Clara was on the rooftop, her pistol flashing with each shot as she strode towards them. Fear washed through Andy, more stringent than before. His sister had not fled. She was here, and she needed his protection. He couldn¡¯t die.


    Andy tore the grenade from his bandolier and tossed it aside. He drew the wooden stake at his hip and lodged it under the vampire¡¯s armpit, stabbing the heart. The monster screamed and released its grip. As Andy landed, he shielded his face from the grenade¡¯s explosion with his leather jacket. A control panel detonated nearby, shrapnell pelted his jacket like a handful of pebbles. Andy staggered upright and drew Julie, but then the ground slammed into him. His vision span. He tried to rise, but something smashed into his side, flinging him through the air. He crashed to the ground in a heap. The world was numb around him.


    Priority Alert: Mutation detected. Emergency antibodies activated.


    Andy tried to rise, but was too dizzy to go further than his knees. He touched his neck. There was no sensation in his face, but no blood on his palm. He felt more drunk than he¡¯d ever been in his life, and sick. Sick to his core. The urgency to act appeared and vanished. He tried to grasp it, but it sifted through his fingers like sand. His Augmentation¡¯s powers flickered and faded. There was no omniscient Combat Conceptualisation module mapping the rooftop, no Killer Instinct except his own, and it faltered, like wading through a bog, his mind was clogged.


    Clara bore down on the vampire, two ultraviolet lights in her hands like sabres, burning away the black smoke of the vampire¡¯s mantle. Strands of her blond hair escaped her ponytail, bristling before her face. The vampire raised its arms to defend itself, but Clara cut into them. Sparks showered from the impact as though Clara had taken a welding torch to the vampire¡¯s corporal form. The vampire screeched and lunged. Clara ducked beneath the blow and stabbed the monster in its chest with both bulbs. They shattered on impact with a rupture of smoke. The vampire staggered back as Clara drew two more bulbs from her rucksack. As she clenched them, their inactive grey shells lit up, blazing blue. She lunged and struck the vampire in the face. The monster flailed, whipping its black cloak up in defence, retreating before her onslaught. It leapt backwards, gliding through the air, and landed in the shadows. Its jaw dissented like a hatch and it screeched, a piercing sonic wave. Clara winced and covered her ears. The ultraviolet sabres faded as she dropped them.


    Andy watched the fight happen through a haze. He had a sense that Julie was nearby on the rooftop, but he couldn¡¯t tell where. His powers were malfunctioning. He¡¯d lost too much blood.


    ¡°Here,¡± a voice said, low but feminine, strong and sweet. Andy turned his head but couldn¡¯t see in the dark. He reached out and felt the tug of a lover¡¯s allure in his hand. ¡°Hold me.¡±


    The vampire swooped in for an attack. Clara stuck her hands out in defence, and a flash of lightning burst from her palms, blue at its centre like a taser. Andy couldn¡¯t believe his eyes. What sort of device was that? The electricity shot through the vampire, arching its spine. Drawing its cape, the vampire darted aside, shifting through the shadows in an instant, flanking her, extending both claws to strike. Clara drew two more bulbs from her backpack and they flickered to life just in time for her to intercept the strike. The vampire seized the ultraviolet bulbs, smoke billowing from its searing flesh. Arching its back, the monster grew twice in size, pushing down upon his sister. The light went out as the bulbs shattered in its grasp. The vampire¡¯s jaw descended like the mouth of a coffin to engulf her. Clara¡¯s face disappeared into the dark.


    Suddenly, Julie snapped into Andy¡¯s hand. The rest was instinct. Andy aimed down her sights and blew the vampire¡¯s jaw off its hinges. Black smoke coalesced around the wound, reforming the jaw. Andy aimed down the iron sights and fired again, blowing its face apart. The vampire¡¯s form shifted like a storm cloud as blue electricity shot through it, then Clara burst out beneath it and drew her final two bulbs from her backpack.


    She swung them in bright arches, chopping into the vampire¡¯s shoulder. Sparks erupted from the impact, but she held the bulb steady, cutting through his flesh like a power tool sawing through steel. The vampire clawed at her face, but she deflected the blow with her other bulb, severing the claw at its wrist. Clara drove one of the glowing blue bulbs into the vampire¡¯s stomach. It sank into his ashen flesh, a yellow fire erupting in its core. Its imposing presence deflated like a balloon until all that was left was the pale husk of a decrepit man. It knelt, sparkling blue bulb dug into its chest, and snarled up at Clara as the skin peeled away from his face, revealing the skeleton of its jaw and the pointed canines which had pierced Andy¡¯s neck.


    ¡°Wench,¡± it hissed. ¡°Thou art inferior.¡±


    Piss off,¡± Clara grabbed the vampire under its jaw, raising its skull to the moonlight. ¡°Suck on this.¡± She jammed the bulb down its throat, like plunging a hot poker into a bucket of water, it screamed and hissed in a burst of sparks and vapour. A burning like erupted inside the vampire¡¯s skull, penetrating its dark purple eyes, lighting it up like a halloween pumpkin. Clara withdrew the second bulb, jutting out of the vampire¡¯s ribs and drew it across its neck, then began sawing. Smoke bellowed out the neck wound as Clara slowly tore the vampire¡¯s head free of its shoulders. Finally, she dropped its limp body to the rooftop. The corpse erupted into flames. Clara tossed the head onto the pile, then stowed the last of the bulbs in her backpack.


    She strode over to Andy, breaking into a run as she spotted him kneeling, barely upright, and lifted him into her arms. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Suck on this,¡± Andy repeated. ¡°Of course¡­ It was so obvious, all along.¡±


    ¡°Stay with me,¡± she said. Her voice trickled over Andy, pleasant, but without meaning. His vision span.


    Priority Alert: DNA compromised. Mutation detected. Emergency protocol initiated. Shutting down.


    The lights went out. Thoughts vanished. Andy plummeted into a void.

 Chapter 31 - Welcome to Moltengarth County

    PART 2


    Clara carried Andy inside the stairwell and waited there with the door open, gazing at the vampire¡¯s ashen corpse as the wind eroded its detritus remains. Andy slept in her lap. Something unusual clinked under his shirt¨Ca bag of silver jewellery. That explained why a grenade had exploded during the fight. Andy had unpinned it, intending to blow himself up along with the jewellery as shrapnel.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so eager to die.¡± Clara stroked his brow. His skin was as pale-white as ever, but hot to touch. The wound on his neck wasn¡¯t bleeding¨Cthere was no obvious reason for his unconsciousness. Concussion, perhaps. Clara waited nervously, but was reassured by Andy¡¯s shallow, steady breathing in her lap.


    A storm of thoughts loomed over her, but it was as though she was sheltered by exhaustion¡­ It had worked, she had used the Augmentation¡¯s powers to light up the ultraviolet bulbs¨Csynthetic tubes of sunlight radiation¨Cand slain the vampire. How had she done it? Was the burst of electricity which she had summoned in a blast of rage inert to all newly Augmented warriors, or was it something specific to her archetype? What happened now? Had the programme finished installing? What was it doing to her DNA?


    Each question pattered off the tin-roof of her skull, distant and confused, impossible to identify one question from the next in the rainfall, like counting water droplets¡­ Where was Linton? Would he have bled out by now? Should she go help him? Should she return to Blue Eyes? Would he see her as a traitor? Would he put a hit out on their heads?


    Pitter-patter.


    It was raining outside, soaking the gravel of the rooftop, filling her nostrils with a murky wet scent. The rainfall poured over her frantic mind like radio static, tuning her mind to sympathetic frequencies, until morning came, and a ray of sunlight touched her cheek, rousing her from a tumultuous sleep. Clara¡¯s questions pooled like puddles on the rooftop, but she chose to ignore them. Every moment was precious, possibly life saving, and she had bigger priorities.


    Resting Andy¡¯s head gently on the floor of the stairwell, Clara ventured onto the roof to retrieve Andy¡¯s assault rifle and checked on the vampire¡¯s corpse. It looked like a patch of tar had stained the rooftop. A coating of tiny flames licked at the substance, eating what remained of the purple colouration, leaving behind a black callous which faded grey in the morning sunlight.


    Clara kicked the pile. A small plume of ash dissipated in the wind. Satisfied, she returned to Andy, slung their gear in a pile and carried him over her shoulder down the stairs and into the plaza. Corpses littered the floor. A white lab coat shone in her peripheral, but Clara made a point not to look over there. She wondered if Riddhi had a family. Was there anything she could do now to make things better? Sighing, Clara knew the answer to that already.


    Sunlight streamed through the shattered archway entrance. An errant zombie shuffled towards her, meek and unthreatening in the daylight. Clara took Andy inside their fortified restaurant and into the stairwell at the back. She set him on the floor, shut the door behind her, and ran back for their gear. Her heartbeat was pounding by the time she made it back; it had been a long night. Andy¡¯s heavy machine gun was discarded on the floor, but she had to leave it. She couldn¡¯t carry it all.


    Heading into the loading bay, Clara ferried Andy, and then their gear, towards the ground floor exit. Linton was gone, as was her marksman¡¯s rifle. He must have stolen it, for what good it would do him. The magazine was empty, and Clara wouldn¡¯t have been able to carry it anyway. A shame too, it was an expensive piece of gear.


    ¡°Tit for tat,¡± she said, spotting a trail of blood drops on the exiting the storeroom. She hoped that Linton would survive the gunshot and make it to safety, although that seemed unlikely. Even unwounded, the scientist seemed to lack the skills or strength to survive in the wasteland.


    Opening the door into the outside parking lot, Clara set Andy against the wall and sat beside him, gathering her thoughts. They were alive, but they had failed their mission and had nothing to show for it. Nothing but the Augmentation flowing through her veins. Was it worth it? Assuming Linton survived long enough to make it back to Old Blue Eyes and tell the tale, they¡¯d be outlawed, blacklisted throughout Quadra, likely with a bounty on their heads. The information about Andy, stored on Blue Eyes¡¯ AMC, would be shared amongst bounty hunters¨Cdetails about his Augmentation¡¯s archetype, his abilities, every strand of his DNA right down to his dark blue eye colour and his allergy towards cats. Maybe she should have killed Linton. Tie up loose ends. Maybe she should track him down now. Murder him.


    The thought deflated her. To kill in battle was one thing, but to do so under the sunlight, cold and calculated, was a line she was unwilling to cross. She had stolen the Augmentation serum, that was true. She had shot Linton in order to steal it. She wasn¡¯t ashamed of either of those actions, they had been necessary. But hunting the man was not. He deserved a chance in the wasteland, just like they all did, however slim.


    Andy doubled over beside her and threw up. Clara held his hair back and tried to get his attention, but he was unresponsive. Leaving a bottle of water at his side, Clara ventured into the car park, searching for discarded vehicles. She kept her hand on her pistol, but there was no movement in sight, save for a few straggling zombies amongst the swathe of corpses beaching the entryway. Clara spotted a line of motorbikes leant against the wall; the previous occupants were probably dead inside the shopping centre. Two vans were parked beyond, but Andy had bust them up with his machine gun during the battle. They wouldn¡¯t be road worthy.


    Tapping the gas tanks of each bike, she chose one which seemed most full and wheeled it over to their ruined jeep. Clara opened the boot and unloaded a rucksack with basic survival gear: a tarpaulin sheet, two blankets, a first aid kit, three different types of fire starters, a large knife, rope, and food rations for one month. She tied it to the back of the bike, then withdrew an orange duffel bag: devices and gizmos which she had bought and scavenged along her journeys. She¡¯d sooner leave a weapon behind than abandon her tricks. Closing the boot, she wheeled the motorbike around to the bonnet and paused beside the driver side window. Her CD was still stuck inside the player, it would take a screwdriver to get it out. She regretted leaving it behind, knowing that she would likely never listen to the elusive album again, but after all, she had always fantasised that the songs were her jeep¡¯s spirit singing to her on long journeys; it only made sense to leave them with the vehicle in her final place of rest.


    ¡°See ya¡¯, girl.¡± Clara patted the bonnet and returned to where Andy rested and took stock of their weapons. There had been a pistol stowed away in the boot carrying fifteen 9mm rounds, which she emptied into her submachine gun¡¯s magazine, stuffing the empty pistol in her bag. She emptied the assault rifle¡¯s magazine into her hand, counting the rounds, then reloaded it and tied it to the bike alongside Andy¡¯s grenade bandolier. Finally, her .45 colt held the most ammunition, two magazines of ten rounds each. It wasn¡¯t much at all, but she didn¡¯t expect any more trouble from the cultists. Dozens of them were dead, their leader defeated, and what survivors there might have been were nowhere in sight.


    She crammed her compact rucksack into the bike¡¯s front storage compartment and sat Andy in front of her. He leaned over the front of the bike deliriously. She put her arms around his waist and took the handlebars, started the engine and drove slowly away.


    It rained softly as she drove. The air was quiet except for birdsong in the trees along the roadside. She took the easiest way out of the shopping centre and down the motorway. The route took them outside of zombie territory, beyond the reach of the cultists and east, away from Quadra and all this mess. The bike bounced stiffly over cracks in the road. With all the weight on it, the suspension sunk low, making it uncomfortable to ride.


    After an hour, she pulled the bike over on a country road for a break and unloaded Andy from the front seat, setting him on the ground beneath the canopy of a large tree. He moaned softly, but otherwise didn¡¯t respond as she re-checked his wounds. He had several lacerations across his neck where the vampire¡¯s claws had cut him, and two pin-pricks beneath his jaw. Clara wet a rag with a bottle of rubbing alcohol she¡¯d managed to keep hidden away from Andy in their emergency first aid kit, and whipped the wounds. His flesh was pale and veiny. The sting of the alcohol didn¡¯t wake him, nor did he blink when she opened one of his eyelids.


    Did he have an illness, a disease? The vampire had bitten him during their fight. Perhaps he was infected, or mortally wounded. She wasn¡¯t very familiar with vampire lore. Aliens were more her thing. Maybe it was black magic, maybe the vampire had sucked out some of his soul. Clara shivered. Andy didn¡¯t have much of a human soul to begin with, maybe this was all that was left. But, he seemed alright on the rooftop before falling unconscious. Despite his peril, Clara just couldn¡¯t imagine him dying¨Ccouldn¡¯t fathom him giving up to such a tiny wound.


    Attention. The voice came out of nowhere. A rush of adrenaline seized her. Clara jumped up, thumbling for her pistol, looking for the intruder. He sounded nearby, but there was no one around them. On one side of the road was an empty, overgrown field, on the other, a dark pine forest.


    Installation complete. Version one active. Configuring language interface.


    ¡°Hello?¡± Clara said. ¡°Are you the AI?¡±


    Affirmative.


    ¡°So, you can hear me speak?¡±


    Yes, I can. The voice had adapted to become more human-like, imitating an older man with a smooth tone. Does this manner suit you?


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Clara phrased a question in her mind: Can you hear me think? The AI was unresponsive.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s a relief.¡± Sitting on an old wooden fence, Clara considered what to ask the AI. She knew there would be limitations before she calibrated her Augmentation for the first time, but wondered to what extent? She had used some rudimentary abilities while fighting the vampire, it granted her some sort of electronic affinity. She had powered the UV light bulbs just by touching them and pushing a buildup of static into them. It had felt like taking a deep breath and squeezing the air through her throat to sing a musical note. Though, she had been clumsy with the energy, and forceful, like driving thirty miles an hour in first-gear. Still, it had gotten results.


    She looked at her hands. There was no static lightning around them. She couldn¡¯t detect any static buildup in her veins. Her bicep twitched rhythmically. What was that? Some effect of the Augmentation, or simply exhaustion?


    ¡°What are my abilities?¡± she asked aloud.


    Initial calibration is required before your Augmentation can completely synthesise with your DNA, and conceptualisation of abilities can be rendered. I am unable to decrypt the programmer¡¯s files any further than installing rudimentary abilities.


    Clara shook her head, willing the voice to stop. It was too much, too unusual. The voice was quiet enough that it didn¡¯t interrupt the sounds of the environment around her. It had no acoustic qualities at all, as though it emanated from the centre of her skull. Hearing it talk about her DNA so mechanistically made her uncomfortable. The serum had its hooks in her, and it would endeavour to make of her a genetically enhanced soldier, whether she liked it or not. She had dreamed of being more powerful, and admonished Andy for being so reluctant to let the Augmentation Serum modify his DNA, but all of a sudden, Clara had a sense of dread. A feeling of mourning. She would never get back who she was, never be a normal woman again. In the space of one dreadful night, she had changed forever. It wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d had the feeling, and Clara doubted it would be the last.


    She had always wondered what it would be like to become Augmented. In some ways, it was frightening, in others, it was ordinary. There was very little verified information on Augmented soldiers, and many more rumours as to how the technology worked. Those who possessed it, guarded the secrets. Clara had come to learn a little from Andy¡¯s experience, but not enough. One thing was clear: the sooner she could find an AMC to calibrate at, the sooner she could get some answers. Clara¡¯s arm twitched violently, then went limp at her side. She clenched her fist to test her strength. Let¡¯s hope that didn¡¯t happen while she was on the road.


    Andy coughed, the first major sign of life he¡¯d shown in over an hour. Clara wondered if he was just exhausted, or whether developing so many new Augmentation abilities in such a short amount of time had taken its toll on his body. They had been on the road for exactly one week now, and already Andy had developed three new abilities, as far as Clara could tell. That was more than in six years previously. She had been right to push his limits with more difficult work, test his strength, but had she gone too far? Though he was unconscious, Andy¡¯s hand drifted to his revolver at his hip. His rapid advancements in strength had something to do with that gun as well, and his fixation on it. He personified the gun, gave it a girl¡¯s name, and pretended to have conversations with it. Or perhaps, the gun talked back, just like the AI implants in his head¡­ in both their heads now. Regardless, if it encouraged him to get stronger, she was glad.


    Clara whipped rain droplets off her wrist terminal¡¯s screen and checked a map of the surrounding area. The battery icon flashed red and empty¨Cshe only had a few hours of juice left in it. The device was extremely power efficient, but nothing electronic lasted forever. Clara didn¡¯t have any data on the surrounding apocalypse zones. The only map that was useful was a pre-cataclysm one, which showed a lot of countryside with a few towns dotted around most likely deserted. It was difficult to tell where new civilisations had sprung up in the wasteland just by looking at old maps. In some places, it was easier to build a community inside the ruins of the old world, however, in many, it was more perilous.


    They wouldn¡¯t be welcome back in Quadra, so they¡¯d have to find a new employer. A new base of operations. Clara rubbed her temples and sighed. What a waste of time and ammunition. So many people had died to retrieve the payload. Abigail, Sax, and the other Hogs mercenaries. Dozens of cultists under the command of that vampire. A young man¡¯s face appeared in Clara¡¯s mind; it took her a moment to recognise whose it was: Carrion¨Cthe moment before she shot him between the eyes. He shouldn¡¯t have had to die like that. Clara rubbed her small silver watch back and forth over her wrist¡¯s knuckle. At least they¡¯d saved Robert¡¯s life. The merc had driven off god knows where. Perhaps they¡¯d meet again one day, on a job, or in a bar somewhere.


    Clara took a deep breath then got up. She lifted Andy back onto the front of the motorbike and set off down the road. It wove between hills, then over a small brick bridge which spanned a river. She spotted buildings ahead, and slowed the motorbike to a purr. An old road sign read: ¡®Welcome to Moltengarth County.¡¯ There was a more recent sign planted beside it, made from wood with an arrow painted on it and the words: ¡®Milltown - 12 miles.¡¯


    The road ahead led through an old village. As she drove through, she peered into their overgrown gardens, filled with weeds and thorn bushes. The buildings themselves were covered in creeping vines, cracked and crumbling. A small stream flowed down the road, as the rain continued to fall around them. Clara pulled the brim of her cap over her eyes and continued at a steady pace. At the centre of the village, the road came to a T junction with a small park overlooked by a large apple tree. A broad pond stretched the length of one road, spilling cattail reeds over the edges onto the concrete. Ducks quacked and scattered as her motorbike broke the serenity, flying overhead, disappearing behind rooftops.


    Clara found where the river met the pond, splashing over a tiny rocky waterfall. Wheeling their motorbike into a patch of tall grass, she laid it down so that it was hidden from sight of the road. She did the same with Andy, making sure he was comfortable, and slid down the small bank to fill their flasks from the running water. Taking a sip, she swilled the water in her mouth, tasting it for any impurities, then satisfied it was clean, quenched her thirst.


    A frog leapt from its rock nearby and splashed in the pond. The air was almost silent, save for the brush of wind in the reeds and the announcement of a blackbird in the large apple tree¡¯s branches. Beneath the tree, wooden tables were covered in a layer of rotting fruit. Some tables bore sapling spires, which poked above the wild grass. A bin shaped like a toad sat with its mouth agape beside the path. A rusted metal climbing frame and swings lingered silently beside the apple tree. Clara had distant memories of climbing across monkey bars just like them in a park when she was a kid. It felt like a lifetime away, like the memories weren¡¯t hers¨Cthey were far too abstract, like a fairytale of a dead world¨Cbestowed to her to fill in the blanks.


    Aside from the ducks, there was nothing living in sight. No recent tire tracks or horse excrement that might indicate people using the road. No litter, or black patches of grass where a campfire had been. There were a few cottages with windows facing the pond, dotted about on little hills. She could scout each of them out and check that they weren¡¯t occupied, or she could undress now and take a very short wash in the running water. It was a little risky, but she didn¡¯t care.


    Clara undressed, piling her clothes behind the riverbank with her wrist terminal and pistol on top.


    The pond water was relatively clear near the mouth of the river. At first, the pebbles dug into her soles, but once she got underneath the small waterfall, it felt soft underfoot like she was stepping into piles of flour. The water was icy cold. She breathed deeply, trying to relax her body. Her arms and legs were covered in bruises¨Csmall knocks she¡¯d accumulated during the mission. She held her breath and leaned back against the waterfall, letting it flow over her hair. The stone felt slippery on her spine. Reluctantly, she had left a wash bag in the jeep. Necessities only. There wasn¡¯t even a bar of soap in the survival rucksack strapped to the bike. Fresh water and scrubbing would have to do.


    Clara jumped as something splashed on the other side of the pond. She shrank under the waterfall, arms crossed over her chest, searching for what had caused the disturbance. A fish coming up for air? Somebody throwing stones? There was another splash, then more. Within seconds, she was caught in a downpour. Yelping, she slid her back up against the rock face as the sky filled with pellets, falling from the heavens. One of the objects bounced off the rock above her head and landed in the water beside her. She grabbed at the slimy ball and held it at arm¡¯s length. A small green toad lay limp and dead in her palm.


    ¡°Eww.¡± She shook her hand and the dead toad plopped back into the pond. Clara glanced upwards, holding her hand up to deflect any incoming froggy-missiles. A small black cloud shaped like a disk passed over the village, raining toads across the park and the pond, pelting off rooftops. As quickly as it had come, the amphibious cloud moved on, releasing its load on the village below, gradually fading from black to a more normal cloud-like grey.


    ¡°What the¡­¡± Clara shivered. She¡¯d been in the water for too long. Wading back to shore, Clara climbed the bank and kicked a dead toad off her clothes. The road was coated in their bodies, like the decaying fruit beneath the apple tree, squashed on impact.


    Clara knelt beside her wrist terminal, enjoying the feeling of fresh air on her wet naked skin. She highlighted their region then created a note: ¡®A raincloud of toads. Exactly what it sounds like.¡¯ This sort of information would be valuable to a cartographer unfamiliar with the region, and possibly themselves, if they ran into trouble.


    A noise distracted her. A vehicle engine. Clara threw her vest on and fell onto her back, yanking up her cargo trousers. She lay on the bank, aiming her submachine gun at a road opposite the park. A compact lorry appeared towing a wagon on a hinge, driving past the apple tree towards the junction. A dozer blade jutted out the front of the lorry, painted with canines to resemble a wolf¡¯s snout. Armoured mesh covered the driver¡¯s windows and barbed wire encircled the wagon¡¯s roof. Ferocious eyes glinted in the top corner of the wagon, its flank was painted in flowing grey triangles, like flames, to resemble furr. At the wagon¡¯s rear, the paint job faded to black where erratic grafiti took over, as though the wolf was wearing a stylised collar around its neck. Amongst the random names and symbols, Clara recognised one tag: three white lines of slightly varying heights like a silhouetted skyrise of the old world, imposed on an upwards-trending semi-circle. She¡¯d seen it before, painted on the battlewagon of the other mercenary group who had abandoned the mission a few nights ago when the zombie horde got violent at the research lab. Alister¡¯s Boys. Was this battlewagon part of their group, or were the aesthetic similarities just a coincidence?


    The lorry stopped at the junction, its breaks creaking against the load. A man excited the driver¡¯s side and strode towards the pond. She thumbed the safety off and crawled backwards, obscuring herself in the pond-side weeds. As she watched him approach through her submachine gun¡¯s iron sights, she noticed something unusual about his appearance¨Cit looked as though he was wearing a mask. Odd angles jutted out of the elbows and spine, as though he was wearing plate armour beneath the baggy hooded jumper.


    Clara kept him in the corner of her eye as he relieved himself into the reeds, choosing instead to focus on the parked battlewagon. How many more men might be in there? Ten? Twenty? More than she could take alone. She wondered how Alister¡¯s Boys would take it if they knew that she had essentially stolen the payload for herself. She figured they didn¡¯t have a right to an opinion after they had abandoned the mission back in Marsay city.


    The man finished up and started to walk away when suddenly he stopped, eyes fixed on something in the reeds near Clara. Her heart stopped. The man turned and strode towards her.

 Chapter 32 - Cold Dark

    The man approached their position. Andy was still deep in a delirious sleep beside her pile of clothes. Clara held the submachine gun iron sights on the newcomer, for what good it would do. She couldn¡¯t engage with them or flee, not with Andy unconscious. Clara simply didn¡¯t have a plan. She lay flat amongst the reeds, praying he didn¡¯t spot them, unable to take her eyes off him. This group might be peaceful, but if they weren¡¯t, Clara would just have to prove to them that bothering her wasn¡¯t worth their blood or time.


    The man stopped just five metres away from them, staring at their motorbike, lying in the weeds near the roadside. His expression was twisted beneath his hood. Clara had been certain he was wearing a mask, until he coughed and spat. His cheekbones were calloused like bark, his forehead and chiselled chin were bricks. He walked stiffly, as though his hips were fused at obtuse angles. He might not be human at all. He scanned the reeds. Clara ducked her head down, remaining deadly still, breathing into the wet dirt. She heard him take a few steps towards them, then stopped. Clara counted to ten and raised her head, expecting him to be standing above them. But the man was balanced on one leg, looking at the sole of his shoe. He grunted, scraping his boot against the pavement. There was a frog corpse stuck to his shoe.


    A horn howled through the village, amplified by cone-shaped speakers on the wagon¡¯s roof. ¡°Endring,¡± a voice called as the battlewagon¡¯s engine revved. ¡°Come.¡±


    The disfigured man eyed the pond suspiciously one last time before returning to his clan. Clara¡¯s breathing steadied as she watched the lorry mount the curb, smashing the toad-shaped bin to pieces, trundling over the park away from them, dragging its large wagon section behind it. She stayed hidden as it continued up the road and out of sight. Could they have been following her and Andy? Perhaps they¡¯d spotted their bike from a distance and were picking up the trail.


    Clara dressed, keeping her ears on the road, then returned to Andy. He was mumbling deliriously. She checked his temperature, it had gone down since that morning. Still, they needed somewhere safe to rest for an early night, before they found civilisation. Clara¡¯s wrist terminal had since died, she¡¯d have to navigate the wasteland old-school.


    In the distance, a hill rose above the village. It would make for a good vantage point to scour their surroundings. At dusk, any settlement in the area would light fires, and the smokestacks would give away their locations. The question was: would they be hiring? Every settlement needed fighters to hunt monsters and keep their borders secure, but many were unfriendly towards outsiders. Those settlements which were friendly often couldn¡¯t offer more than a bath, bed and breakfast in exchange for work. Right now, she¡¯d be willing to kill a few mutants if her employer threw in a bar of soap. But the best case scenario was finding someone with an AMC willing to hire it out at a reasonable fee.


    Slinging her gun over her back, Clara loaded Andy onto the bike and set off up the hill. The road was flanked by old stone walls, built to keep the forest at bay. However, it had lost the fight years ago, undermined by thick tree roots, crumbling into the roadside. A path cut through the debris in the road where the lorry had recently driven, however, at a junction, the lorry¡¯s tracks lead south east, whereas their path took them north uphill. Clara wove between the debris on the road. With all the weight on the bike pressing the suspension flat, she could feel every rock and branch bump against her spine.


    The road turned a corner and flattened out. A building rose out of the overgrown forest, four stories tall with large glass windows. A rusted mental fence ended in a gate covered in vines, half blocking the road. The other half of the gate had been flattened and lay beneath a layer of moss. There were no obvious tracks in the road. No recent visitors. Clara leant their bike against the gate and dismounted Andy. She sat him upright against the fence. He murmured to himself, head lolling in his chest.


    ¡°What was that?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Drink.¡±


    Clara pressed a bottle of water to his mouth, tilting it slowly so that the liquid spilled behind his lip.


    He spat weakly, turning his head away. ¡°Booze.¡±


    ¡°Yeah right.¡± She placed a bottle of water in his lap and checked the chamber of her submachine gun. The forest around them was mostly pine, sparse enough that she could see a good distance through it, but with a dense enough canopy to block out sunlight. Waist-high bracken carpeted the forest floor, broken by the occasional bramble or holly bush. Her grandma had taken her on country walks when she was young and told her the names off all the plants. Clara could even remember how to identify a few edibles, but it wasn¡¯t the season for it now.


    From where she stood, the countryside was obscured from view by the forest. The roof of the nearby building would make a perfect vantage point and resting place, assuming no one was squatting inside. Clara had seen people make homes of less desirable places in the wasteland, often vagabonds who had been rejected by the remnants of society, or criminals on the run. Not the sort you wanted to bump into unannounced.


    Strapping the grenade bandolier around her chest, Clara stepped through the metal gate with submachine gun in hand onto the mossy paving stone path. Cattail reeds obscured several ponds on either side of the path. Their winter-brown stalks bent beneath the weight of their fluffy heads, jacketed by pale green leaves. Each pond looked like a shrapnel explosion caught in stasis.


    Stone steps lead to the building¡¯s entrance. A heavy wooden door stood open on its hinges. Clara kept her gun at the ready as poked inside. Sunlight cut through two large windows to illuminate the lobby and a dusty grey carpet was strewn with brown leaves. A desk stood at the back of the room. Large black letters were fixed to the desk, reading ¡®Amphel Wildlife Centre¡¯. Long rectangular lights hung on their fixings from the peeling roof, one dangled length-ways into the centre of the room, rocking slowly in a draft.


    Clara entered slowly, ears sharp. She kicked something which pinged off broken glass. A bullet casing. There were dozens on the floor. A rush of adrenaline rose from her feet, filling her legs with an impulse to react, but she refused to make any sudden movements. There was a stairwell at the back of the lobby and two doors leading away. She chose the closest passage. Windows ran the length of the corridor beyond, with several doorways on the opposite wall. Clara peeked through each. They were laid out like classrooms, with rows of desks facing a whiteboard. Smashed glass was everywhere, littering tables and draws. She inspected the remnants of a large glass vase, green with algae and moss. An old book depicted a frog on its cover. Curious, Clara picked it. It was open on a page which depicted a newt¡¯s anatomy. She leafed through the pages; it seemed to be a compendium on amphibian biology. Then something caught her eye. A glass vase atop a high shelf remained intact. Something was suspended inside¨Ca frog¡¯s corpse, preserved by chemicals, its limbs spread out wide, pale belly exposed.


    Clara left the classroom and followed the corridor around the building, peering through the exterior windows upon a valley below, obscured by treetops. However, the valley should be visible from the top floor. Turning back towards the lobby, Clara peeked inside each of the two remaining doorways. One led to a symmetrical corridor on the opposite side, whereas another opened into a large room beyond. A quick glance revealed that there was nothing inside, no happy campers or lurking threats.


    Returning to Andy, she shook him awake. ¡°Come on, you¡¯ve got to get up. We¡¯re heading to that rooftop. I can¡¯t carry you up there.¡± Clara left him by the gate once more as she wheeled their motorbike and gear over the flattened fence and up the path into the building¡¯s lobby, out of sight from the road.


    ¡°Come on.¡± She lifted him to his feet. He had the strength to hold his own weight if she steered him. Together, they walked inside the building and towards the stairs. She hadn¡¯t noticed before, but more steps led downwards to a basement¨Ca place unchecked. A cold breeze sifted through the crack, tickling Clara¡¯s skin. She shuddered, setting Andy down in the shade at the top of the stairs, and readied her submachine gun. Better not leave a stone unturned if they were going to spend the night.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Venturing down the steps, a stench hit her, dense and putrid. Tying a bandana over her mouth, Clara turned on her flashlight and opened the door. Inside was a large damp room with a low ceiling. Nine cylindrical objects, like jacuzzis, were spaced in the room.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Clara said. Her voice echoed off the tiled walls, but there was no response. She approached one of the open-topped jacuzzis. Inside was a black sludge. Objects floated on the surface, reflected in the gleam of Clara¡¯s headlamp. Her eyes stung from the stench. The words: ¡®Breeding Pool One¡¯ were inscribed on the side. There was nothing here but a long abandoned science experiment.


    Returning to Andy, she hauled him up, shifting his weight in her arms, and carried him up the stairs. Once they reached the top floor, Clara set Andy by the stairwell and inspected the rooms to make sure they were alone. Once done, she retrieved a ration bar and binoculars from her rucksack and purveyed the landscape.


    A large river snaked towards the horizon. Clara followed it with her binoculars. A farmhouse sat in fields overgrown with weeds beside the riverbank. A derelict yellow tractor grazed in the fields beside a couple of cows. In the distance, a bridge crossed the river into a town. Clara focussed her sights on a road leading into the town, looking for signs of life, planting her elbows on the windowsill to steady her hands. The lorry which had passed them earlier that day had been heading downriver towards that town. Perhaps that had been their destination. She searched the sky for smoke stacks, but they were difficult to find when the town itself was obscured by a bend in the valley.


    If raining-frogs was all this apocalypse zone had to offer, and this zone of apocalypse had spread downriver during the cataclysm, there was a high chance whatever village had been there before had survived. However, surviving the cataclysm was one thing, reforming society when the power grid and global economy had collapsed was another. Many towns and cities had succumbed to starvation, disease, and dissent over the years, not to mention neighbouring apocalypse zones expanding their territory, such as wandering zombie hordes or mutant warbands.


    Clara remembered folklore among mercenaries about a region somewhere in the world where, during the cataclysm, the number seven had disappeared from existence. It just wasn¡¯t calculable anymore. People¡¯s electronics failed, wireless signals couldn¡¯t be transmitted in the region. When someone tried to count a group of seven things, like the days of the week or colours in a rainbow, their minds warped and failed to comprehend it. Those things simply disappeared from reality. They weren¡¯t invaded by ghouls or haunted by demons, or decimated by plague and famine. All they lost was the number seven¨Cit now went six, eight and so on, and yet their society completely collapsed. The specifics varied between which merc was telling the tale, and Clara didn¡¯t exactly believe the story, but the lesson remained the same: It wasn¡¯t the apocalypse zone that determined your chances of survival, but how you adapted to it.


    Overhead, grey clouds flattened the sky. It would rain again that afternoon, maybe frogs. Clara circled the windows on the top floor, looking in every direction, creating a visual map of the landmarks inside her mind. It was a lot harder than simply annotating her wrist terminal. She had gone years without relying on the device as a kid, it would do her well to shake off the metal cobwebs and practise her old pathfinding skills.


    Clara decided, if they were going to rest here until morning, they might as well get comfortable. Returning to their motorbike downstairs, she unfastened the large rucksack from the back and carried it upstairs, laying a blanket over Andy where he lay on the floor. His breathing was stronger now, and his temperature had gone, but he was sweating profusely. Clara pestered him with a water bottle until he drank the whole thing, then dragged a chair up to the window and watched the valley below. Wrapped in a blanket, she sat there until the sun set, drifting off to sleep...


    Clara was standing outside in the pitch black night, exposed. Somewhere under the earth, a dark force dwelled in shadow. It seeped through the cracks in the road outside. Clara jumped up, dancing around the cracks like they were giant chasms. It was a game she¡¯d played as a kid, but now it was real. Fleeing inside a nearby building, she slammed the door shut, but the dark energy slipped under the gap and groped her ankles. Clara ran, but the darkness enveloped her, steering her towards a staircase. The stairs leading upwards had collapsed. Only those which led downwards were accessible.


    The basement door creaked open. A cold air invited her inside.


    Clara woke, seizing her submachine gun. She jumped out of her seat and scanned the room. Waning moonlight shone faintly on the corridor from behind an overcast sky. Clara flicked on her headlamp and observed the doorways. Nothing had changed since she had slept. Andy still rested beneath a blanket on the floor. To ease her paranoia, she paced down the corridor, checking each room in turn. An image of the basement flashed in her mind.


    ¡°Did you see that?¡± she asked her AI.


    Please clarify.


    ¡°My dream.¡±


    I do not have access to your dream state. Please clarify.


    ¡°The basement, downstairs.¡±


    No threats detected.


    Sitting back down, Clara tried to relax, but the echoes of the dream haunted her. Each time she drifted off, she envisioned the door to the basement, slightly ajar. It was no use. Either she stayed awake all night, afraid of the dark, or faced her fears and went downstairs to inspect it.


    Clara fixed a spare torch to the stock of her submachine gun, adjusted the strap on Andy¡¯s grenade bandolier and set off. Each step she took broke the abject silence. She could hear her heart beating steadily, solidly. She rounded the bottom steps into the lobby and turned towards the basement.


    With her right hand still on the trigger, the gun¡¯s stock pressed against her shoulder, Clara pulled the door open. It was just as she remembered it, dark and smelly. Clara adjusted the beam on her flashlight to be precise, and the one on her headlamp to be broad. Between the two, she had good visibility. Eight brick cylinders as large as jacuzzis were laid out in a square. She checked each one, strolling around the room, breathing through her mouth against the stench.


    What was she doing? She should be resting. She¡¯d let paranoia win, and now she was skulking around cesspits in a basement in the middle of the night searching for a nightmare. Sighing, Clara turned her back on the room and strolled towards the exit. Her headlamp flickered. She tapped it, and it shone steady, but then her gun¡¯s flashlight flickered. What was wrong with them both? Electrical interference?


    Something splashed in the furthest pool. Clara spun on it. Her torchlight cast a strobe on the pool, flicking shadows up the walls. Clara smacked the light. Her heart pounded. Something rose out of the pool. A dark, meaty torso, dangling a thick limb over the side of the pool.


    The door behind her slammed shut. With a flash, her flashlight burst. Clara sprinted towards the exit, but her headlamp was so dim she could barely see her hand in front of her face. She crashed into a wall, disoriented, feeling for the door. Behind her, liquid sloshed as the nightmare climbed out of the pool, thudding wet on the tiled floor.


    Clara unpinned a frag grenade and threw it behind her, then fired blindly towards the figure. Each muzzle flash revealed a glimpse of the monster. It was like nothing she¡¯d seen before, swelling and collapsing like a floating jellyfish. Clara counted to four, then crouched and covered her face. The grenade exploded. Shrapnel pattered against her combat jacket like stabbing nails. Her ears rang as she twisted her headlamp¡¯s lens, but it wouldn¡¯t brighten, then she remembered her Augmentation abilities: last night, she had willed a surge of electrical energy into the UV sticks.


    Squeezing the headlamp, she felt her fingers tingle. A shock ran up her arm, and the headlamp burst to life. Clara shone it on the exit and dashed through the door without looking back, slamming it shut behind her. Running up the stairs, she quickly checked the lobby for intruders, then spun back around on the basement, submachine gun pointed at the exit.


    All was quiet. Clara readied another grenade for once the monster revealed itself. In the tight space, the explosion would be ruthless. Counting the seconds, Clara remained frozen for what felt like an hour, until finally, anxiety replaced adrenaline, and she lowered her gun. Why hadn¡¯t the monster pursued her? And what was it? Could it have been just another nightmare? The skirmish had happened so fast, it was almost like she¡¯d imagined it. She tried to recall what the monster had looked like, to cement the image in her mind, but it evaded her. It must have been an amphibian, maybe a queen frog, if they had such a thing.


    But that didn¡¯t explain her torchlights misbehaving. It must have been her Augmentation interfering with the electronics. Perhaps it was responsible for draining the battery on her wrist terminal? Those were details she needed to understand. The quicker she calibrated at an Augmentation Master Console, the better. Clara climbed back up the stairs to the top floor, jamming a chair beneath the door handle so that nothing could open it from the other side, and sat back down beside Andy.


    Now she knew what was in the basement now. Did it help her sleep? Not a wink.


    As she replayed the events in her mind, one question stuck out to her. If the monster in the pool was an amphibian just like frogs and toads that had fallen from the sky, then what had closed the door behind her? What had tried to trap her inside?

 Chapter 33 - Hangxiety

    Andy remembered headaches like the one he had from when he first started properly drinking. It felt like one of his eyeballs was so swollen it had cracked his skull. His brain was mush. His stomach felt withered by treacherous acid, bubbling up his sawdust-dry throat. ¡°Never let me drink absinthe again.¡±


    ¡°Just absinthe?¡±


    ¡°Just absinthe.¡± He confirmed. They were packing up their gear on the top floor of a building overlooking a valley. For a second, when he woke, he thought they were still on the roof of the shopping complex. Andy barely remembered the past thirty-six hours. They had flown by in bleary glimpses of a road rushing beneath him, one faded white line at a time, like a dotted trail annotated on a map.


    The harrying of fever dreams had left his body fatigued and his soul-dreary. Andy¡¯s perception of self had retreated into his mind, overtaken by chaotic noise. During the journey, he had been five different people, all having conversations with themselves, arguing, trying to decide on a definition of reality. One of the voices was his artificial intelligence, another was a drawing of a monster he¡¯d scribbled in class when he was little. He drifted from one perspective to another, each time wearing a new pair of eyes, moving a new set of lips. The conversation had gone around in circles. It repeated and got stuck on certain points for hours at a time.


    ¡°Andy, you were sick,¡± Clara said, tightening the straps on her rucksack. ¡°It wasn¡¯t just the drink.¡±


    ¡°Any clue what?¡±


    ¡°Probably¡­¡± Clara chewed her lip and averted her eyes. ¡°Probably the vampire, right?¡± Her tone was subdued and stiff.


    ¡°Eww.¡± Andy rubbed the bite mark on his neck. ¡°Dirty bugger, probably didn¡¯t brush his teeth.¡±


    Clara chuckled dryly. ¡°I cleaned the wound,¡± she said. ¡°But, yeah, maybe not well enough. Probably an infection.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m over it now.¡± Andy shook himself, dispelling his hangxiety like a dog ridding itself of water.


    ¡°How is the neck?¡± Clara asked as she shouldered the gear and stepped into the stairwell.


    ¡°Fine.¡± Through his gloves, Andy felt two tiny scabs on his neck where the vampire had bit him. ¡°How does it look?¡±


    ¡°Bruised. It¡¯s a hell of a love bite.¡±


    ¡°Ha-ha.¡±


    ¡°Did you get his radio frequency?¡± Clara grinned. ¡°Maybe he¡¯d hook up again.¡±


    Andy sighed. ¡°Please stop.¡± Andy felt unsure on his feet as he followed her downstairs. His knees buckled, but with a little exercise he¡¯d be chipper in no time. At the bottom of the stairwell was a high ceilinged lobby. A tube lamp hung down lengthways on its wires. A motorbike was propped up beside the exit. Andy scoured the luggage tied to its rear. There was his assault rifle, but no metal briefcase.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the payload?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s gone. We failed.¡±


    Andy groaned. ¡°Someone steal it?¡±


    ¡°In a way,¡± Clara said, tying their survival bag to the motorbike. ¡°The payload was Augmentation Serum. I used it on myself.¡± Clara slapped her thigh. ¡°Sorry Andy, you¡¯re not the only special one now.¡±


    Andy¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°No way. You too now?¡±


    Clara grinned and nodded.


    ¡°That means we¡¯re both¡­¡±


    ¡°An elite unit,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Killer wizards.¡±


    ¡°Wizards?¡± Clara said. ¡°Is that how you see yourself?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, gun wizards.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s dumb, Andy. There¡¯s science behind it.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t convince me.¡± Andy untied his assault rifle tied to the back and gave the magazine a quick tap, using the enhanced perceptiveness of his Combat Conceptualisation module to divine its contents. ¡°Still got seventeen rounds left.¡±


    ¡°Nineteen, actually,¡± Clara said. ¡°I counted yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Positive.¡±


    ¡°Damn this hangover¡¯s bad. I¡¯m never off.¡± He slung the rifle over his shoulder and looked his sister up and down. She didn¡¯t seem to have changed physically, but then, neither had he since he injected the Augmentation Serum six years ago. ¡°Go on then. Tell me what yours does.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure yet,¡± Clara said, wheeling the motorbike outside. ¡°Something to do with electricity.¡±


    ¡°Think it¡¯ll turn you into a big hulk like that merc from a few days ago?¡±


    ¡°God I hope not. I like my figure.¡±


    ¡°It might do,¡± Andy said. ¡°Electro-hulk. That sounds like an archetype. You can¡¯t stop it now. Welcome to the club.¡±


    Clara ignored him, pausing in the doorway. She looked back towards the stairwell. ¡°I had a vision last night.¡± She took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the basement. ¡°I saw something in there.¡±


    ¡°Wanna kill it?¡±


    Clara shook her head. ¡°Why waste the ammo. I just¡­ thought I¡¯d tell you, in case it comes up again.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha. Keeping my eyes peeled for something weird.¡±


    ¡°Very funny.¡±


    ¡°Want me to drive?¡± he asked.


    ¡°You can barely stand, Bambie.¡± Clara sat behind the handlebars and Andy mounted behind her. Something hard jutted out of the rucksack and dug into his tailbone. He tried to adjust it as Clara set off down the road, but their bike bumped over the cracks and rubble on the road. Andy felt sick to his stomach. He grabbed Clara to steady himself, taking the brunt of the discomfort in his arse. ¡°Shit, this is uncomfortable.¡±


    ¡°Sucks to ride bitch, dunnit?¡±


    The wind rushed in his face as they drove down the hillside and into an overgrown village. They drove by recent tire tracks which cut over a grassy verge at the bottom of the hill around a large apple tree, following them deeper into the village. Gradually, the stout brick buildings sunk into dereliction, like a shoreline breached by a sea of weeds. Thin trees poked above dense bushes, engulfing the ruins of civilisation. Tall grass drooped over the road like a breaking wave caught in stasis, green at its depth, brown and frost-bitten at its foaming head. White seed-pods splashed above the hedgerow. Winter was fading. Another spring was on its way, nature¡¯s way of reclaiming the land one season at a time.


    They drove slowly for over an hour; any faster and they¡¯d risk tipping the vehicle on the uneven road. On their left, Andy could hear the rush of rapids over the motorbike¡¯s engine as a river held hands with the road for a few minutes before veering away.


    Andy spotted movement on the road ahead. Two men were pushing an old grey car down the road while a third sat in the driver¡¯s seat trying to rev the engine back to life. Clara slowed their bike to a cautious crawl, shifting her submachine gun onto her lap as she overtook them, giving them a wide berth. Rounding a bend, they spotted the hollow hulls of marooned buildings jutting out of the overgrown countryside. Andy scanned the roadside for an ambush, ready to leap off the bike and return fire at a moment¡¯s notice.


    Ruins rose from the vegetation, dilapidating into the road. Clara followed a clear path through the rubble, as though someone had recently bulldozed it aside. Ahead, a canvas was drawn tight over a derelict roof. An old, fat woman sat beside a table of wares, alone in the road. There were trinkets and tatt on the table, and animal pelts hung up on a rack behind it. Andy watched the old woman as they passed. Her head was hooded, her eyes black like a crow¡¯s. A blanket was draped over her lap. Her old leathery hand brushed against a bulge at her hip¨Ca sidearm. Andy grinned, he liked her spirit.


    The road turned at a constant angle, obscuring what was ahead, directing them beneath an overpass. A tarpaulin sheet spray painted and stretched over the railings read: ¡®Welcome to Milltown.¡¯ Passing beneath it, a snow capped mountain top appeared in the distance at the head of the valley, towering above all. The cliff faces on either side of them were covered in scraggly forests, broken by white chalk rocks. A row of empty apartment buildings crumbled in a copse of trees. Ahead, a row of derelict cars had been dragged out of the road to create a single shaded avenue into town.


    As they delved deeper into the village, the ruins began to group together, the creep of nature subsided. Tarpaulin sheets dotted the ruins around them in an array of greys, blues and greens, scavenged from the wasteland. They were pieced together by animal pelts, a patchwork of the old world and the new. A man missing a leg leaned against a crumbling wall, enjoying a morning cigarette. A donkey laden with travel bags startled at the motorbike¡¯s loud engine. The man grabbed the reins, dropping his cigarette, wrestling with the animal to keep it from bucking. He gave them a mucky look as they drove by.


    The smell of food sweetened the air. A canopy of tarpaulins sheltered the road ahead. Clara slowed their bike to a crawl. Villagers surrounded them, people of all ages, sitting in the shadows or walking about the streets. Many were unarmed, but some bore old hunting rifles, stabbing and bludgeoning weapons. The chatter rose about him. Andy listened over their engine¨Cthe villager¡¯s their accents were thick, or else they were speaking in a foreign language.


    The compact buildings widened as the road opened up into a large flat area ahead. Market stalls lined the opening, carts cluttered atop the concrete. The wealthier traders had their car doors and boots open, items spilling out onto tables and hung up on lines. The less wealthy traders had horses tied up to posts, their wares displayed out the back of carriages. To their left, the final building in the row had been gutted to make room for a workshop. Inside, engineers spun wrenches and hammered away. Clara stopped their bike and they dismounted, taking in the sights.


    One man selling sacks of wheat and pickled vegetables wore a sword at his waist to deter thieves. In the shadows behind him, a second man sat unassumingly against a stool in the alleyway, a shotgun across his lap. Andy couldn¡¯t miss the trader¡¯s guard, but a hungrier person might. A girl was folding piles of clothes while a woman beside her repaired them with coarse thread and a bucket of scrap garments. Smoke rose through gaps in the tarpaulin roof of the building behind them.


    Together, Andy and Clara wheeled their bike through the marketplace. Andy scanned the streets looking for someone selling ammunition. There was a lot of winter foods¨Ccured meats, jarred and dried fruits and vegetables, grains and hard, shrivelled vegetables. The smell of stew wafted towards him, traded by the ladleful on an old man¡¯s doorstep. There were displays of clothes, blankets, rucksacks. Tables full of crude weapons: bludgeons, staffs, knives, and old rusty rifles.


    Nearby, two young men were arguing with a customer, insisting that their fuel wasn¡¯t diluted by more than ten percent. They had stacks of red canisters on display in the boot of their jeep. Andy had been a fuel jockey once¨Che reckoned only a handful of those canisters would have something in them, the rest would just be for show. The illusion of opulence. The fuel would be cut roughly four-parts pure fuel syphoned from gas tanks in the wasteland with one-part vegetable oil or ethanol spirits. A couple of heavily diluted canisters would likely be marked and set aside for ripping off weak and gullible looking customers. It was all part of the con, all part of the trade.


    A stray dog ran up to Andy and sniffed his leg. He shooed it away on wobbly knees, gripping the handlebars for stability. Better to not make any sudden movements. The morning sunlight glared at him through a mirror resting atop a glass and pottery stall. It pierced his brain, forcing him to shield his eyes. ¡°I need a drink.¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Clara handed him a bottle, half full of water.


    ¡°No, something to take the edge off.¡±


    ¡°Last night you were unconscious with a fever. Give it a rest.¡±


    ¡°My liver can¡¯t cope being this sober. It¡¯s too much of a shock to the system.¡±


    Clara stopped in the street, still holding the water bottle out. She raised an eyebrow and looked at him sternly.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Andy said, taking the bottle. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get a room somewhere.¡± She approached a store of tatt and trinkets, placing a small silver charm on the table. ¡°Where can a merc find a room in this town?¡±


    ¡°Along the river¡¯s edge,¡± the merchant said. He was a tall skinny man, a little older than Andy, wearing a shirt which didn¡¯t quite reach his wrists. ¡°Welcome to Milltown.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± The two of them wheeled their motorbike through the marketplace. The buildings around them were in varying states of disrepair. Lumber and tarpaulin had been used to patch the gaps in brickwork, some had been repurposed as pigsties and chicken coops. A group of women washed clothes in a bucket together, stringing them out between the ruined walls. Two children ran past them barefoot, splashing in the muddy puddles, brandishing sticks at one another like swords.


    The sound of the river drowned out the marketplace bustle as they neared the bank. A tree sprouted from the cracks beneath a narrow cobblestone bridge, its branches clawed over the embankment. Nailed to one branch was a sign pointing across the bridge: ¡®Haven Inn¡¯. The bank itself was a sheer stone wall which dropped at least fifteen feet before it met the water¡¯s edge. The bank on the opposite side was much shorter. A mill squatted there, its heavy waterwheel turning in the river¡¯s strong current. The weeds around it had been whacked trodden down to keep it looking tidy. There was a garden behind it, and a barren allotment in the field beyond. Smoke rose from a brick chimney in the building¡¯s old quarters, while a modern timber extension latched onto its side.


    As they crossed the bridge, Andy glanced down the riverbank. A dozen or so mills churned in the current. Many looked modern to Andy, made from timber and scavenged stone. The village¡¯s occupants must have been busy since the cataclysm. On the opposite bank, a man lay against the bridge with an empty bottle in his hand. His beard was thick, hands coarse, clothes caked in mud. Andy could smell him from a distance, and envied his unconsciousness. Andy kicked the bottle as he passed, it clanged down the brick arch, empty. Never mind.


    A dog barked at them as they approached the inn, tied to a stave. The hound was huge, well fed and proud, just as fearsome as many beasts which Andy had encountered in the wasteland. They lent their motorbike against a fence and Clara headed for the door, just out of range of the hound¡¯s leash. ¡°Wait here,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll check that they¡¯ve got a room.¡±


    A minute later, she returned with a boy at her heels. Clara followed the boy around the back to a large shed. The kid unlocked several heavy padlocks and opened the doors. They stowed their bike inside beside two other vehicles like it, then the boy opened a large metal container. ¡°For your weapons, miss.¡±


    ¡°How can you guarantee our safety inside?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°There¡¯s no guns in the Haven Inn. It¡¯s a haven like that, you see.¡± Andy couldn¡¯t place the boy¡¯s accent. During the cataclysm, there was so much migration, regional sounds had combined. Many people spoke with a unique tone, and the boy wasn¡¯t an exception.


    ¡°Some people don¡¯t need guns to be dangerous,¡± Clara said, hand on her sidearm.


    ¡°Less people with them, less trouble.¡±


    ¡°I think, maybe we¡¯ll take our patronage elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Same policy everywhere in Milly. But, it¡¯s your choice, miss.¡±


    Andy and Clara shared a glance, then Clara submitted her machine gun and unzipped both bags tied to the back of the motorcycle for the boy to inspect. ¡°I¡¯m taking these inside, they have our supplies.¡±


    The boy checked her bags while Andy untied his assault rifle, then unstrapped his 9mm sidearm, grenade bandolier and combat knife.


    The kid¡¯s eyes lingered on Andy¡¯s hip. ¡°Your pistol, sir.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a revolver.¡±


    ¡°Andy,¡± Clara said. ¡°We¡¯ve got to if we want to go inside.¡±


    ¡°Seriously, Julie too?¡± he said.


    She snapped her fingers. ¡°Yeah, Julie.¡±


    ¡°Julie¡¯s a friend.¡±


    ¡°Julie¡¯s a revolver. I¡¯ve seen Julie kill people. Come on, I¡¯m hungry. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°What kind of man would I be if I abandoned my friends like that?¡±


    ¡°Fine, fuck it. Stay outside with the dog. See if I care.¡± Clara stormed out of the storage shed. The boy waited for Andy to make a move.


    ¡°You sell booze inside, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Of course, sir.¡±


    Andy sighed and unfastened his holster, relinquishing her to the dark, dingy storage crate. ¡°Sorry girl, a man¡¯s got needs.¡± As soon as he let go of her, Andy felt weightless, as though Julie¡¯s slender mechanism was the only thing keeping him attached to the ground. He grabbed a beam for stability as his knees shook. The kid tossed his weapon in with the lot and locked the container, trapping Julie in the dark. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he whispered, but Julie did not respond.


    Composing himself, Andy exited the storehouse and entered the inn. He found Clara sitting at the bar, her rucksack on her back, duffle-bag at her feet. The building was like any old country inn¨Csmall rooms and a homely smell¨Cexcept each room was lit by the luxury of a single orange electrical bulb. The walls were built from a mix of rough stones, likely scavenged from the countryside nearby, held together by a grey, crumbling mortar. The bar was varnished old wood, poked by a thousand glass rings and tobacco stains. Large wooden pillars braced the roof¡¯s beams. One closest to the bar had names and lines scratched into its polished surface, with a date next to each. Some were old and faded, illegible. Andy squinted at the nearest one: ¡®Jacko Adelphi - 1984¡¯.


    Clara was talking to a large man behind the bar, showing him the silver jewellery which Andy had scavenged back at the shopping complex. The barkeep shook his head, so Clara dug into her pockets and revealed a small plastic bag. The man poked through the contents, scowling. ¡°No, no. What is this?¡± He held up a small, bronze round.


    ¡°.45 snub.¡±


    ¡°This looks like a .44 Russian to me.¡±


    ¡°Like I said, it¡¯s a mismatched bag. Lucky dip. There¡¯s some .22, some 7mm, some shells.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t cheap repurposing rounds.¡± The barkeep emphasised his Cs like they were Ks, jumping up and down in pitch like a pendulum. ¡°Most people in Milltown want shotgun shells and hunting rounds. Rifle rounds. Not this¡­ um, military rounds, like surplus.¡±


    ¡°Yeah well, you¡¯re a trader. Trade it.¡±


    ¡°Alright then, I am just explaining my reasoning. I can give you three nights for this lot. A meal every night, baths are open twice a week, and you¡¯re in luck, the warm water is heating up right now.¡±


    ¡°Seven nights,¡± Clara said. ¡°We¡¯ll pay you more at the end of the week.¡±


    The barkeep raised his chin. ¡°What you do? Fuel jockeys?¡±


    ¡°Mercs.¡±


    ¡°Got an employer?¡±


    ¡°Looking for a new one. Old one couldn''t afford us anymore.¡±


    The barkeep snorted. ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡±


    ¡°No. He couldn¡¯t afford us. Had to pay in other ways. That¡¯s why we¡¯re broke.¡± Clara held the barkeep¡¯s gaze. Andy reinforced her gaze, fixing the barkeep with a cold stare.


    ¡°We don¡¯t want trouble,¡± he said.


    ¡°We arne¡¯t looking for trouble. We need a bed, food, and work.¡±


    ¡°I know who you are looking for,¡± he pointed at her. ¡°The New Patricians. They are¡­ guests of this town. Some are visiting here very often. They should be back later tonight. Maybe I will introduce you.¡±


    ¡°Much appreciated,¡± Clara said. If I could tip you right now, I would.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s alright, I won¡¯t forget.¡± The barkeep handed her a room key, then poured two short glasses of booze from a barrel. ¡°On the house, beautiful.¡±


    Clara snatched both shots up before Andy could react. She grimaced at the barkeep¡¯s comment, but downed each shot anyway. ¡°Cheers.¡± Leaving the bar, Andy followed her around the back where a modern extension expanded the old inn. The floorboards, walls and ceiling were all timber. A wide common room held a variety of simple, scavenged furniture. Several rugs covered the floor, their sizes not lining up right, leaving patches of bare floorboards between the seams. Men lounged in the flickering candlelight around the walls. At the centre of the room, a single lampshaded bulb spotlight a large, green velvet table. Cue sticks lay dormant in a wall-rack behind the table, accompanied by a dirty chalk-board. The names of several individuals were scored on the board, all crossed out with tallies next to their names but one: Alister.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Andy said, admiring the quality of the table¡¯s velvet. It was well looked after. ¡°She¡¯s pretty.¡±


    ¡°Come on.¡± Clara led them to a staircase which wound around to the first floor. A single hallway divided two rows of rooms. Following the key tag, she found their room, unlocked it and dipped inside. Shutters at the back of the room let in the afternoon light. Clara slung her bags onto one bed and opened the shutters, sitting in a chair beside the window. Andy lounged on the bed beside her. Clara was silent, staring out of the window.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Andy asked. He waited for a response, but when it didn¡¯t come, he untied his laces and put his feet up, wiggling his toes. ¡°Good job that window¡¯s open. My feet stink.¡±


    Clara snorted, then sighed. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Tired. Tired of starting again.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not used to it by now?¡±


    ¡°I hate it.¡± Clara kicked her shoes off and flopped onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. ¡°We¡¯re better than this. How long have we been mercing for? About four years. We still don¡¯t have a steady client, or a base of operations. Our jeep¡¯s a wreck.¡± Clara sighed. ¡°I loved that jeep, you know.¡±


    ¡°At least we survived.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to just survive anymore. I¡¯m over it.¡±


    ¡°Nah, we should celebrate our persistence. I¡¯ll go grab a bottle.¡±


    ¡°Andy, it¡¯s¡­¡± Clara checked her wrist terminal, but the screen was dark. ¡°It¡¯s not even afternoon yet.¡±


    ¡°Settle down. I¡¯ll grab some mixer too.¡±


    ¡°Look, as nice as that sounds, the barkeep wasn¡¯t interested in trading in silver, and we don¡¯t have much else to trade before we have to start giving up weapons. Then I¡¯ll be really depressed. I already lost my marksman¡¯s rifle and had to leave behind your-¡±


    ¡°Machine gun!¡± Andy shot out of bed. ¡°Where is it?¡±


    ¡°I had to leave it behind.¡±


    ¡°What, why?¡±


    ¡°Because I was carrying your limp arse and all the gear on one motorbike.¡±


    ¡°Damn,¡± Andy sat back down. ¡°Should have left me behind.¡±


    ¡°I will do next time.¡± Clara smiled.


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan then?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m off to see this cartographer. I reckon the information we¡¯ve got on surrounding zones is worth something to him. Our data goes all the way back to Quadra. Then I¡¯ll get a lay of the land, maybe talk politics. We¡¯ll find an employer before the end of the week. And if not, well, we¡¯ll leave this place. Find somewhere else.¡± Clara took one last look out the window, then headed for the door. ¡°Do what you want today, rest. I need a little time alone. Nothing personal.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°I just haven¡¯t been sleeping well.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll chill here.¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t get into any trouble while I¡¯m gone. For one, you don¡¯t have a gun on you.¡±


    ¡°No worries. I¡¯m hungover anyway.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Leave your radio on.¡±


    Clara left, and the room got quiet. Birds chirped outside the window. A distant engine rumbled, as a gust of wind carried the smell of wet vegetation from the valleyside forest. It was quiet moments like these that his Augmentation¡¯s artificial intelligence usually stole his peace, but no voice came. For once, it was just Andy¡¯s own thoughts in his head.


    Andy dozed, trying to focus on anything but his headache. Something Clara had said stuck in his mind. How long have we been mercing for? Memories fluttered through his mind. Clara and him sat atop a lorry¡¯s wagon, sharing a drink, watching the sun set. Her, sleeping beside a campfire. She looked peaceful. How could someone seem so peaceful in a world like this? With a sudden burning pride, Andy knew that it was because she felt safe, protected by him.


    His mind wandered back to when they got their first job as mercenaries about four years ago. Back then, Clara was new to negotiating and Andy was heavy on the booze. Heavier, anyway. Andy had hated the employer from the start, a big blonde man with a chin the size of an apple. He¡¯d been too big for his boots¨Cthought that, just because he had a bit of enterprise in the decaying world, he was a big man. He thought his ego could stop a bullet. It hadn¡¯t.


    The further back his mind wandered, the less he remembered, and the thirstier he felt. There were glimpses of his past, before the catalyst. He¡¯d hated the old world, never fit in. Good riddance that it was gone.


    A blank spot expanded in his mind, filling his vision, blotting out his dreams. Andy was half convinced that when he opened his eyes again, the blackness would consume him. But it didn¡¯t, and the feeling of dread subsided, replaced by a subdued headache and ravenous hunger. Andy got up and made his way downstairs into the common room. It was bustling with activity now. Groups of men leaned over tables of drinks. The smell of cooking stew sifted through the low smoky rafters.


    Andy drifted over to the jewel of the room: the pool table, and armed himself with a cue from the rack, weighing it in his hands, then rolling it over the empty table to check for warp. It rolled once, then swung back and forth lopsided. The tip worn to the nub. He checked three more cues until he was satisfied.. Andy applied the chalk gently like a lady applying blush, making sure to cover the surface evenly.


    Picking up the cue ball, he rolled it down the length of the table, bouncing it off the back cushion, judging the table¡¯s lean, the quality of the felt, the weight of the ball, getting a feel for it all. Bending over, he aimed down his cue and tapped the ball in its centre. It rolled across the table, bounced off the cushion at the opposite end and crept back towards him, finishing perfectly flush with the break line.


    Andy struck the ball solidly. It shot into the back left pocket with a snap and clatter. He looked around the room. Punters were watching him. ¡°Who¡¯s in a betting mood?¡±


    A couple men stood and approached him, drinks in their hands. ¡°Go on then lad. What¡¯s the stakes?¡±


    Andy removed the silver ring he¡¯d scavenged from the vampire¡¯s corpse the first time they¡¯d fought in the parking lot, and placed it on the table. ¡°It¡¯s haunted, that ring. Extra value.¡±


    Andy let them appraise the ring as he headed over to the bar. He needed a few drinks to get him in the zone. Playing pool was much like shooting on a range, it flexed the same mental muscles¨Crequired the same instincts. Andy performed better when he was just a little bit drunk: three drinks exactly. It had to be an odd number, or it wouldn¡¯t work. He didn¡¯t know why that was the case, it just was.


    However, these were exceptional circumstances. Andy had been days without a drink, he needed hair-of-the-dog to get him through. So four drinks it was. But then, this was a new town, it was only customary and polite to sample the menu, like a civilised mercenary. So five drinks. Additionally, he needed something extra to top up his hip flask, something strong. He may as well have a glass while he was at it. That made six, an even number. It wouldn¡¯t work. It had to be seven. Seven drinks, and then he could play pool.


    ¡°Barkeep!¡±

 Chapter 34 - The Cartographer鈥檚 Cottage

    Clara followed the innkeeper¡¯s directions up a stone-scattered path which climbed the valley¡¯s hillside towards the cartographer¡¯s cottage. Young trees crept over the fields, errant shavings of the forest above. Clara pulled her combat jacket around her as the daylight dimmed in the shade of the trees. The path became steep and rocky as it climbed beside a gushing stream, then ahead, the path flattened at a shelf beneath a cascading waterfall. Two large water wheels turned on either side of the bank beneath the waterfall, attached to robust huts. A bridge crossed the river, and on the other side, afternoon sunlight beamed on a timber cottage sitting in a clearing of trees. A discordant radio tower jutted out of the cottage, fitted with several satellite dishes, rising above the canopy.


    Clara crossed the bridge, appreciating the craftsmanship of the waterwheels. The waterfall rushed over them, pelting the wooden paddles like machine gun fire over a cacophony of radio static. The wheels creaked on their axis as they turned. Clara surmised that they had been built post-cataclysm. People in the old world had used more complex ways of creating power¨Cenergy plants and the national grid. Clara remembered the world like that from when she was a child; lights always on, devices like her wrist terminal were in everyone¡¯s hands. It was hard to imagine now, with scavenged fuel drying up across the wasteland, settlements had to adapt and find new sources of energy if they wanted to run generators and use electricity.


    By that projection, Milltown might only be a small trade hub now, but it could prosper in the coming years, given its water-powered infrastructure. It could be a good place for her and Andy to set up shop, assuming there was an employer nearby who could offer them the right sort of work at a good price.


    A small gated fence encircled the cottage garden. Spilling over the fence¡¯s boundary line was a pile of scrap metal and electronics: PC cases, monitors, aerials and components all rusted and warped by the sun. The garden itself was well kept and divided into flower beds, dotted with early blooming yellow daffodils. A sign beside the gate read: ¡®Announce yourself. Wait at the gate.¡¯


    Clara had left her submachine gun in the possession of the Inn¡¯s storehouse. She didn¡¯t want to intimidate the cartographer. However, under the errand boy¡¯s supervision, she had withdrawn her .45 sidearm and combat knife. They were obscured beneath her jacket, but by no means hidden. It would be careless to negotiate any sort of deal completely unarmed.


    ¡°Hello?¡± Clara called. ¡°I¡¯m looking for James the cartographer.¡±


    After a moment, Clara heard the thud of movement from inside. An old face appeared in a small window beside the front door, seemingly built from transparent plastic, then the door opened a crack.


    ¡°Who is it?¡±


    ¡°My name¡¯s Clara, I¡¯m a mercenary. Looking to trade some information.¡±


    The door opened wide. An old man stepped outside, shotgun in the crook of one arm. His muscular shoulder slouched beneath their own weight. He stooped and examined Clara with bright beady eyes. ¡°Who sent you?¡±


    ¡°The barkeep at the Haven Inn recommended you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not trading today. Come back tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Oh James, stop it.¡± A woman appeared behind the old cartographer and patted his back. ¡°Come on now, out of the way.¡± A luxurious silken yellow dress fluttered about her as she flowed down the garden path. The silk fabric caught the sunlight, reflecting it like a gem, glistening in the smoothness of her dark skin. Her hair was short and frizzy, her arms long and slender. Clara was startled by her appearance, like a daffodil compared to Clara¡¯s dark road-worn combat kit.


    ¡°Clara was it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°My name¡¯s Sonji. Come inside.¡± The woman opened the gate with a smile, leading Clara towards the cottage. The interior was cramped and cluttered. ¡°Leave your shoes on, honey. Wouldn¡¯t want you stepping on something sharp¡± The woman disappeared into an adjoining room. ¡°Would you like some tea?¡±


    ¡°Yes please,¡± Clara said, looking around. Her eyes were drawn to a hundred things at once. Computers were stacked against the walls, their cases open to the components inside, gathering dust. Atop one pile, a healthy looking plant dropped its stringy vines over the electronics. A network of multicoloured wires ran along the ceiling, some dangled down in disarray. Clara followed the woman into a kitchen beyond. A tiny bird chirped and jumped about in a cage hung beside a spice rack. A stonework oven was built into the outer wall, sprouting a chimney, beside which pots and pans hung from hooks. A small log fire glowed in the oven, softening the shadows cast from an open window. Baskets and nets full of ingredients covered the walls, the majority of which Clara did not recognise, not even from their smell.


    ¡°What tea do you like?¡± the woman said, hanging a kettle in the oven fireplace.


    ¡°Anything,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go and sit with my husband in the other room. I¡¯ll bring the tea through in a minute.¡±


    Clara followed her instructions into a room beyond. It was just as cluttered as the rest. James was sitting at a desk, piled high with circuit boards and computer components. He was using tweezers to straighten the minute pins on a processor. Small glasses held together with black electrical tape perched on his wide nose. He pointed at a chair opposite him. It was covered in clutter.


    ¡°Where shall I move this stuff?¡± Clara asked.


    James grunted in response. Clara moved the clutter onto the floor and sat down. ¡°I¡¯ve got information to trade.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ve got the best maps in the world.¡± He set the component down and rotated a wall-mounted monitor to face her. It displayed a map of the local landscape divided into apocalypse zones. Using a sphere on his desk, he scrolled around the map to show its extent. ¡°What zone?¡±


    Without having her wrist terminal for reference, Clara struggled to remember the specifics of their route. ¡°It would be easier to show you on my terminal, but it¡¯s out of juice. Do you have a charging port?¡±


    ¡°I have, it¡¯s homemade.¡± He pointed to a rack-unit of machines, Clara wasn¡¯t sure which one he meant. ¡°Is Bulwark tech?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a terminal.¡±


    ¡°What model is it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. There¡¯s some writing on the back-¡±


    ¡°Give it here.¡± James took the terminal off her and held its casing up to the light, muttering the digits embossed out loud. ¡°An early model. Is it updated?¡±


    ¡°With what?¡±


    ¡°With what.¡± He tutted, unravelling a ribbon cable from the rack unit.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± Clara said, standing up. ¡°If you¡¯re just going to download everything on there, then what am I supposed to bargain with?¡±


    ¡°Settle down, I can¡¯t download anything with this. I¡¯m only going to check the firmware.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not.¡± Clara held her hand out.


    James relinquished the ribbon cable reluctantly, like a child returning a treat, exchanging it for a simple charging pin which he shoved into the port. ¡°Happy?¡± Her terminal beeped as it rebooted, and he returned the device to her. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve had Bulwark tech to tinker with.¡±


    ¡°Scroll down,¡± Clara said, pointing at his computer monitor. ¡°Further west.¡±


    Clara¡¯s heart sank as she discovered the breadth of zoning data which the cartographer possessed. His records were extensive, but there were some grey spots on his map where the data was scarce. Clara and Andy had spent eight years travelling from their homeland in the north, across the sea and down through the entire continent towards the southern coast near Quadra, gathering data as they travelled. But her records weren¡¯t very valuable unless they were substantiated by another cartographer or a similarly reputable source. A mercenary''s hearsay was cheap and easy to come by, and cartographers weren¡¯t interested in trading rumours.


    Luckily, some of her data came from the Visionaries¡¯ database which she had purchased in Quadra. The Visionaries were known throughout the wasteland for keeping accurate records of the apocalypse zones. Clara tapped onto the ¡®Maps¡¯ tab on her wrist terminal, scrolling over to the farthest zone which she had data on¨Cthe western coast of the continent¨Ccomparing her data to James¡¯, hoping to fill in some of the cartographer¡¯s blanks.


    ¡°We started down here,¡± Clara pointed. ¡°Further south. Keep going.¡±


    The cartographer scrolled to keep up with her finger. ¡°Ah, Quadra. Traded with a few from there. Not much I don¡¯t know about the area.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, how much do you have west of it?¡±


    James scrolled, and his maps¡¯ annotations dwindled. ¡°A fair bit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll come back to that then,¡± Clara said. ¡°Go right. We started there and headed east,¡± Clara demonstrated their route on his screen.


    ¡°Passed through some heavy zones.¡± The cartographer turned his monitor back around, hiding it from her view, examining the route she¡¯d mapped out.


    Sonji returned with tea, making room for two mugs on the cluttered table. ¡°I¡¯ll be upstairs reading if anyone needs me.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± James said, turning the monitor back to Clara. ¡°This here. What have you got?¡± He pointed to roughly where the cultist settlement Hallow Hill was.


    ¡°Cultists.¡±


    ¡°That much I know. I also know there¡¯s more to it than that. A group of mercs learned that I had this blank spot on my map last summer. They went out there to take a look. No one has seen them since.¡± He took a sip from his tea. ¡°Hard to believe you passed through it willy-nilly.¡±


    ¡°We had some trouble, me and my partner.¡± Clara sipped the tea. It was minty and sweet, and tingled her nostrils. ¡°Let¡¯s talk terms.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°Zone for zone.¡±


    James sucked through his teeth. ¡°If you¡¯ve got a zone that I don¡¯t have, then sure. Otherwise, I''ll have to evaluate your information on the fly.¡±


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°I just need a basic understanding of this area,¡± Clara said. ¡°We¡¯re new in town.¡±


    ¡°Then you need to provide me with about four new zones.¡± James peered above the rim of his glasses. ¡°Or equal trade.¡±


    Clara grimaced, but held his eye contact. James¡¯ gaze was unwavering.


    ¡°Okay,¡± she said, lowering her gaze to her tea. ¡°First of all, is there an AMC in town?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because I wish to calibrate.¡±


    The old man raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re Augmented.¡±


    ¡°Me and my partner.¡±


    ¡°Huh. There is one in town on the east side. Part of the New Patricians¡¯ convoy.¡± James¡¯ face was stern, wrinkled like the bark of an old oak tree.


    ¡°Who are they?¡±


    ¡°A military group, come from up north. Long way away. If you want more information than that, you can count it towards the trade.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Clara said, ¡°No funny business.¡± She went on to describe her zoning knowledge in detail. While talking about the zombies in Marsay, she described their characteristics and behaviours. There were many zones of zombie apocalypse in the wasteland, each was different. Most of her information matched the cartographer¡¯s records, but some was new, such as that the zombies had been dry and desiccated¨Ceasy to burn; that was the sort of thing mercenaries liked to know. She described the scene which she and Andy had witnessed in the basement of the research facility¨Czombies slumbering in large piles, inactive until startled by the noise of the generators. There was value in the specifics.


    James recorded everything she said on a microphone, taking notes as she went. ¡°You got up close and personal, it sounds.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re pretty hands on. By the way, we¡¯re open for business.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need no merc work,¡± James said. ¡°Tell me more about this cultist zone in the mountains.¡±


    Clara took it one step at a time, reciting the names of locations where they had encountered cultists, describing how they had used vehicles to patrol the roads. How to recognise them¨Cby their clothing and their music, their culture and their mannerisms.


    ¡°They worship a demon,¡± Clara said. Then a thought occurred to her. The cultists had seemed to base their whole society around worshipping that demon. Now that it was dead, what would become of their society?


    ¡°Go on?¡± James said.


    ¡°Worshipped, I should say. Past tense.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± His attention was fixed on her now.


    Clara sipped her tea nonchalantly. ¡°It¡¯s dead now.¡±


    ¡°What was it?¡±


    ¡°A vampire. It held dominion over Hallow Hill. It spread its influence over the wasteland, using cultist settlements as its militia, demanding offerings, gifts, and people¡¯s lives, I assume.¡± Clara retrieved a crumpled map from her pocket. ¡°I scavenged this from one of their vehicles. It has a few places marked down on it.¡±


    James took the map and started copying down notes from it while Clara described the vampire in detail: its appearance, the way it talked and moved; the forms it took and the abilities it possessed. She talked at length, and finally, described how she¡¯d killed it.


    ¡°Stuck one of the bulbs down it¡¯s throat.¡± Clara rose out of the chair, posing to demonstrate. ¡°And sawed through its neck with the other. The UV light burned its flesh, cut right through it. Then its body burst into flames.¡±


    Clara sat back down in her chair grinning, relishing the memory of their victory. James leaned back in his chair regarding her.


    ¡°You¡¯re not lying, are you?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t believe me?¡±


    James stared at her like an old painting, his expression unmoving.


    ¡°Rip up those notes,¡± Clara said. ¡°Delete that recording. Believe I¡¯m a liar, and we¡¯ll go our separate ways.¡±


    James took a deep breath and leaned forwards. ¡°Alright missy, you win. You¡¯re a hard-ass. I get it.¡±


    ¡°Now it¡¯s your turn,¡± she said.


    ¡°If you¡¯d like, I can transfer data directly onto your terminal, and take a look at the firmware while I¡¯m at it.¡±


    Clara narrowed her eyes. ¡°Why are you so keen on looking at my firmware?¡± Clara didn¡¯t want to admit she didn¡¯t know the meaning of the word. Something technical, she assumed.


    ¡°The architecture is¡­ so pretty.¡± James gazed at her terminal on the desk. ¡°It¡¯s a hobby of mine to tinker. A vice, I must admit.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t break it?¡±


    ¡°Break?¡± he scoffed. ¡°I¡¯ll improve it.¡±


    Clara considered the old cartographer for a moment. He was well composed, with assertive eyes, not the kind which dodged confrontation to obscure a lie. He seemed genuine, as far as first impressions went.


    ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°Go ahead. I want to know about everything within three-hundred miles. Every apocalypse zone that¡¯s still active and dangerous.¡±


    ¡°One-hundred miles,¡± James said. ¡°If you¡¯re unsatisfied with my tinkering on your terminal, then I¡¯ll make it three-hundred.¡±


    ¡°At least two,¡± Clara said. ¡°Three, if I¡¯m unsatisfied.¡±


    ¡°As long as you promise to be honest with me.¡± James plugged her terminal in and twiddled with the dials on his rack unit. Clara watched as her terminal¡¯s screen went white, then the Bulwark Project logo appeared in the centre: An octagon with a DNA strand horizontally through the centre, separating a black base from a white top. The logo disappeared, replaced by a blue screen and bold, white text. James flicked through the text, muttering to himself, lost in a whole other world.


    Clara shifted in her chair, gazing around the room at the clutter. Some muscle deep inside her shoulder twitched then her whole arm spasmed. Clara tried to hide the outburst by pretending she was stretching her arm, but James didn¡¯t even look up from her terminal. Her fingers spasmed, clicking on invisible keys. It wasn¡¯t painful as much as it was alarming. Clara rubbed her watch to steady her nerves, checking it for the time, but of course, the dials hadn¡¯t moved in years. Finishing her tea, she cleared her throat. ¡°How long will it take?¡±


    ¡°Huh? What?¡±


    ¡°How long will you be?¡±


    ¡°I could be hours.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have hours.¡±


    James set the terminal down, turning on her with the full weight of his attention. ¡°Tell me, Clara, what do you think of people?¡±


    Clara paused. ¡°That¡¯s a bit broad.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Milltown folk, traders, farmers. What do you think of us?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°The commoner. Salt of the earth. Man. Woman. The good in people. Do you see it? Do you believe it?¡±


    Clara scowled. ¡°Do I believe that all people are good? No.¡±


    ¡°What is mankind worth while we live in the shadow of a dying age? How shall we rebuild, except towards the same old ruin?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡± James leaned closer, peering over his glasses.


    ¡°You¡¯re asking the wrong person, I¡¯m just a merc.¡±


    ¡°Oh, my mistake.¡± He smiled and sat back, rubbing the knuckles of his wrinkled hand. They were swollen and calloused between the joints¨Cthe hands of a man who had done a lot of punching in his time. ¡°You¡¯re Augmented, aren¡¯t you?¡± he said. ¡°An upgrade on life.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m only recently Augmented, actually. I haven¡¯t noticed much of a difference so far.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think you¡¯re better than me?¡±


    ¡°At what?¡±


    James snorted. ¡°There are some who say the Augmentus are above everyone else. The next rung up in the DNA ladder. The New Patricians, they call themselves. You haven¡¯t encountered any in the west?¡±


    ¡°How would I know?¡±


    ¡°Well, they¡¯re arseholes. Well-armed, driving around in convoys of armoured trucks.¡±


    ¡°Does their logo look like this?¡± Clara held three of her fingers out.


    ¡°That¡¯s the one. The three needles. Strength, wisdom and some other bullshit.¡±


    ¡°We travelled with a truck which bore that symbol, mercenaries by the name Alister¡¯s Boys.¡±


    James growled, clenching his fists. ¡°That¡¯s him. Not mercenaries. Patricians. They¡¯re all hopped on amphetamines and snake-oil serum. Fascists, if you ask me.¡±


    ¡°Fascists?¡±


    ¡°Something of the old world. An apocalypse, if you will.¡±


    Clara quickly reorganised her thoughts; if James was right about Alister¡¯s Boys being a part of this New Patrician¡¯s group, then had they lied to Old Blue Eyes when they were hired for the mission? Was there an ulterior motive to their sudden departure at the facility? Perhaps they¡¯d intended to steal the payload, perhaps they knew what was inside it.


    ¡°Do they run things here?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Hardly,¡± James growled. ¡°Leeches. They tax all of the trade in Milltown, demand free service at the mills. They claim to offer us protection in return, but from what? All the years I¡¯ve lived here, we haven¡¯t had any trouble from the wasteland. This valley¡¯s secluded, and what apocalypses cropped up during the cataclysm, someone managed to deal with.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, how?¡±


    James took a deep breath, gazing at the ceiling as though he was weighing something up.


    ¡°I¡¯m not paying you for storytime, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking.¡±


    The old cartographer¡¯s slouched. ¡°Alright, fine. But only because I like telling it. The tale of the town goes that, during the cataclysm, evil spirits rose from rivers, kidnapping children, possessing their souls. Pregnant woman miscarried. Elder folk wandered down to the riverbank and threw themselves in at the dead of night. A priest took up his neighbour¡¯s shotgun, dipped the shells in holy water and raised a militia against the evil spirits. He summoned them out of the waters, evoking the name of God, blasting them back to hell. Afterwards, he wrote up a plan for the future. A whole book, he wrote. Said it was a vision from God of how the world would change after the rapture, and how humanity would have to adapt.¡±


    James rose from his swivel chair, stepping carefully through the clutter, leaning over a pile of machinery to get at a control panel near the ceiling. Hidden atop it in a dusty corner was a tomb. ¡°I have one of the only surviving copies. Milltown followed this scripture for years, developing the industry along the riverside. It¡¯s what attracted my wife and I to settle here. Our community was strong until the New Patricians arrived. People went missing. People with voices.¡±


    ¡°They took over?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t take long.¡± James¡¯ voice was solemn. ¡°A couple weeks, and this place was changed.¡± The chair creaked as James sat back down. ¡°Must you deal with them?¡±


    ¡°If they¡¯re the only ones with an AMC, my hands are tied.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a shame. They¡¯re real scumbags. Threatened me. Threatened my wife. They wanted my passwords, my patronage. I told them where to stick it. I¡¯m the only free man left in Milltown cause I¡¯ve got something they need.¡± James thumbed his computer screen.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Clara smiled. ¡°I won¡¯t snitch.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead, they know I hate them already. The only reason I go on is because you¡¯re an outsider, you should know the whole truth before they get to you. They¡¯ve got a whole dogma, a whole sales pitch. Don¡¯t buy it, not a word. Do your dirty business then go back to Quadra, that¡¯s my advice, and tell the folk there to watch out for the New Patricians. Don¡¯t trust them. Don¡¯t let them behind your walls.¡± His voice quivered. ¡°Kill them on sight.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, we won¡¯t be returning to Quadra,¡± Clara rose. ¡°But I''ll carry your warning with me wherever we end up.¡±


    ¡°Okay. ¡°James sighed, then pointed at her terminal. ¡°Do you mind coming back for this tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Charging the battery is going to take about eighteen hours.¡±


    ¡°Eighteen?¡±


    ¡°A slow charge is better for the battery¡¯s lifespan.¡±


    ¡°And ]while it¡¯s charging, you¡¯re going to be tinkering with it?¡±


    James shrugged. ¡°May as well.¡±


    ¡°May as well,¡± Clara smirked, shaking her head. ¡°There best be three-hundred miles of zone data on there when I get back.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine.¡±


    Following the path downhill, Clara breathed in the fresh air of late afternoon. Where the forest broke onto hillside fields, she took a moment to appreciate the setting sky. Ahead, to the east, the first of the night¡¯s stars twinkled above the valley¡¯s peak. The moon shone, pale and silent, a fingerprint smudge in the sky, emitting an aura of immensity which seemed to loom brighter the longer she stared. Smoke drifted across the sky from chimney stacks in Milltown. Dogs barked to one another across the town, and somewhere distant, a rifle shot rang out through the valley.


    Clara gazed upstream towards the Haven Inn, the promise of a warm bath tugged her forward, half-falling down the rocky steps as momentum tugged her forward, picking up pace. Then, as the trees broke, she slammed on the breaks, almost slipping on the wet cobblestones. What she saw outside the inn sent a shiver through her body.


    Parked opposite the bridge leading to the Inn was a lorry decorated in graffiti and a monstrous mural. The top was crowned with barbed wire, the wheels were protected by metal plates. The Trojan: the prized battlewagon of Alister¡¯s Boys.


    Andy was alone inside the inn with them. Another gunshot thudded, rather than echoed through the valley, deadened by the indoor acoustics. It had come from Haven Inn.

 Chapter 35 - The Hustler

    Andy potted the black ball and collected his winnings from a shelf beneath the chalkboard. Beside the bag of ammunition was a pint of ale, purchased by the loser. He swigged it and pocketed the pouch of .22 rounds¨Cthey weren¡¯t useful to him right now, but they could be traded.


    ¡°Anyone else?¡±


    The common room had gotten busier throughout the afternoon until it was full. Folks sat in their groups, drinking pints or sharing bottles. There were townsfolk, mercenaries and others: fuel jockeys, traders, travellers come from the marketplace in town. A lot of them looked at him, but few now dared to take the bet.


    ¡°Quit hogging the table,¡± one woman said.


    ¡°Wanna play me for it?¡±


    ¡°Come on now,¡± a bloke with her said. ¡°You¡¯ve proven your point.¡± They were both dressed in simple, worn clothes. Thick animal pelt jackets draped over the backs of their chairs. They had arrived, bathed and eaten in the time it took Andy to defeat nine players at pool.


    ¡°I¡¯m having fun,¡± Andy said. ¡°Why should I quit?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have wager,¡± the man said. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything. Me and my wife just want to play.¡±


    Andy frowned, that kind of took the fun out of it. He leant on his cue, reluctant to concede the table. But he¡¯d earned a fair bit already¨Cenough to afford his bart tab, he just wanted a little extra.


    A tall man ducked through the doorway into the common room, purveying the folks gathered with an impassive sneer. His skin was the colour of charred brass, his black beard trimmed short like a scraggly balaclava. Tucking a strand of long blond hair behind his ear, his eyes settled on Andy. ¡°I heard talk of a wager.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Andy said. ¡°Want in, pretty boy?¡±


    The man¡¯s eyes flashed with anger, then they drifted over Andy¡¯s outfit. Raising his chin, his sneer joining points with a callous smile. ¡°Everything you¡¯ve got, I¡¯ll match it.¡±


    Andy grinned. ¡°You¡¯re on.¡±


    The challenger racked up while Andy chalked his que and inspected his attire. There was an empty holster beneath his fur-padded denim jacket, and an empty sheath strapped to his tall leather boots. Three more guys from his troupe watched on. They varied in age, each dressed differently, a real boy-band of a group.


    ¡°I want 5.56 ammo,¡± Andy said. ¡°Match what¡¯s on the shelf.¡±


    ¡°Curly,¡± the man said, and one of his companions filled a bag with rounds. ¡°What do you play by? Milltown rules?¡±


    ¡°Merc rules,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°So, I¡¯m right to assume¡­ cushion touch, no double on the black, no carries?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°I take it you are a mercenary.¡± The way he spoke added a flavour of grandiosity where it wasn¡¯t necessary, as if he was trying to show off with every breath.


    ¡°Uh huh.¡±


    ¡°What brings you to Milltown?¡±


    Andy placed the white on the dot and lined up for the break. ¡°Work.¡±


    ¡°Not much of a talker, are you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve gotta pay more for that.¡± Andy breathed in smoothly, a cool calm sensation seeping into his veins as a fraction of his Augmentation¡¯s Marksman powers activated. He struck the white. It smashed into the break left of the lead ball, scattering them with three satisfying clunks¨CTwo reds and one yellow. Andy lined up to claim the colour, and took a sharp angle on the closest red, knocking it into the middle pocket. The white ball flew across the table, bouncing off the cushion to settle behind two yellows.


    His shot was blocked. Striding around the table, Andy swept past his opponent and angled the que above his head. He struck downwards, chipping the white over the yellow balls smack bang into a red. The ball careened into the nearest pocket, but Andy had overshot the white, and it trailed in after the red. He winced.


    ¡°A nice break.¡± The challenger chalked his que. ¡°I thought you were going to run away with it then.¡±


    He leaned over the table and potted two easy yellows without much thought. Then he drew an angle on a yellow ball down the table. The black and one red stood between his target, it wasn¡¯t a shot Andy would have taken. But as the man hit the cue ball, it spun, slowing down and speeding up minutely, circumventing each obstacle, potting his target yellow with precise power. The white continued to spin, bouncing off the cushion and lining up for another pot like a dream. The challenger sunk one more easy yellow, then prepared for another impossible shot. He screwed the ball in a circle, bouncing it out of a cushion and back in on itself. It knocked into the yellow, rolling it over the pocket, teetering on the edge. Andy blinked, vision blurred by booze. Even with his Augmentation¡¯s powers, Andy would have struggled to hit a shot like that. This man was a magician.


    ¡°No carry,¡± the challenger said. ¡°So it¡¯s your turn.¡±


    Andy observed the table. It was three balls to three, but two of his reds were lingering over a pocket guarded by the challenger¡¯s yellow. Time for the big guns. Andy leaned over the table, allowing his Augmentation¡¯s hormones to rush through his veins like twisting on a gushing tap. As he swayed, his Inebriation Inhibitor module compensated his aim. Andy¡¯s focussed zoomed in on his target with Enhanced Precision, imagining a bullet flying out the back of the red ball¡¯s head. He launched the cue ball into the red, which pelted into the yellow covering the pocket at just the right angle to force it into the teeth of the cushion. Both balls bounced out of the pocket, stealing the guaranteed pot from his opponent. But it had cost him a turn.


    Thankfully, the challenger did not have an easy shot to follow up. All of his remaining balls were near or touching the cushion now. He lined up to knock one out into the open, and tapped the cue ball gently. It kissed the yellow, bouncing it off the cushion, sending it rolling into the centre of the table, but it did not stop as Andy had expected. It rolled, leaning left like a drunkard in the road, rolling, rolling, rolling¡­ Clunk. Sunk.


    ¡°Ah, table lean,¡± the challenger said. ¡°They must get that sorted, raise the leg a little.¡± His comrades laughed at their table. One looked Andy¡¯s way, a sheepish grin on his face. The table wasn¡¯t wonky, Andy would have noticed by now, but before he could protest, the man had sunk his penultimate yellow ball, and lined up for the last. He tapped the final yellow into a cushion, and it rolled off the wall into the centre of the table, open on every angle for his next turn. ¡°Ah, How unlucky. Your shot.¡±


    Andy glared at the table. Whatever tricks he was playing, Andy could do better. The first shot was easy, and he sank the red without difficulty, but the second was unclear. Andy imagined the cue in his hand was his rifle. He willed his Augmentation to display ricochet calculations, but it wasn¡¯t coming to him. He¡¯d never had a problem before applying his Augmentation¡¯s abilities to pool, perhaps it was because his new ability¨Cthe magic bullet¨Chadn¡¯t calibrated yet. Perhaps there was something to what his AI and Clara were constantly nagging him about, and now he was paying the price for not listening to them¡­


    But no, that wasn¡¯t it¡­ In his horror, Andy realised the true cause: the drink he¡¯d accepted earlier was his eighth that night¨Can even number! His mojo was off.


    ¡°Barkeep,¡± he shouted, hastily downing his current pint.


    ¡°What is the matter?¡± the challenger said. ¡°Are you nervous?¡±


    ¡°Fuck off.¡± Andy wiped his lips, a flush of anger changing the taste in his mouth from an iced vodka to a cheap metallic whiskey. Trusting his instincts, forgoing to aim, Andy remained standing and took the shot. One red collided into another perfectly, each careening into opposite side cushions at the far end of the table. While the room was silent from shock, Andy swooped over the black like a hawk and pulled the trigger. It sank with a thud and clanged through the table¡¯s internal mechanism.


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    Andy grabbed his winnings from the shelf, keeping an eye on the challenger and his entourage. He half expected them to contend the victory, but they simply spectated.


    ¡°Double or nothing,¡± the tall man said.


    ¡°You¡¯re on.¡±


    They played again, and Andy won by the skin of his teeth. The tall man hit some shots which just didn¡¯t make sense to Andy. Power and ricochet were Andy¡¯s wheelhouse, but he couldn¡¯t make the cue ball move like the challenger could, make it spin like a dancer. The merc raised the odds again and they went on to a third game.


    ¡°Last one,¡± Andy said. ¡°I wanna spend your bullets before the bar closes.¡±


    ¡°Last one,¡± the merc promised, racking the balls. It was Andy¡¯s break. He darted around the table like a torrent of flames, licking the balls back into line. He spun, lucid, the alcohol sweeping through his veins, loosening him, relaxed but fierce. He was on fire. He sank six balls in quick succession with an easy line on the seventh. Seven-balling his opponent off of the break was a humiliation he would relish. Andy took the shot from feeling, without much forethought. The cue ball slammed into the yellow, and they yellow dashed towards the pocket.


    At the last moment, the yellow stumbled, catching a divet in the table¡¯s felt. The divet knocked it a few degrees off-course, enough to intercept a red ball along the way, which rolled into a far pocket on the table like a dog woefully obeying its master. Andy stood, frowning. He inspected the felt for divots or debris, but it was clean.


    ¡°Do not tamper with the table,¡± the challenger said.


    ¡°You saw that, didn¡¯t you?¡± Andy looked around the room. Folks had stopped drinking and talking amongst themselves. A crowd of people spectated their game, standing in the dim light of the electrical lamp shade above the pool table. ¡°You all saw that?¡±


    ¡°Just bad luck,¡± one of the challenger¡¯s lackeys said, a short bald man.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be sour,¡± said another.


    The tall merc took his shots, planting red after red, clearing up down to the black. Andy¡¯s heart raced. He was about to lose all of his winnings. The barkeep was holding a tab for him and he¡¯d have no way to pay it. Clara would freak out. He¡¯d never hear the end of it. Andy¡¯s hand drifted to Julie at his waist, but she was absent, locked away in a cold metal box outside. He had to think creatively.


    The challenger lined up his final shot on the black, a straight line down the table into the back right pocket. Andy searched his jacket for something that could help. Anything. He found a bottle cap, a small screwdriver with a broken handle, a guitar pick which he didn¡¯t know he had. What was he even looking for anyway? Then his fingers touched something small and round, seemingly insignificant to an unseasoned merc. An apple pip.


    Andy withdrew the pip, holding it in the thumb of one hand. With his other, he drank from his pint as though he wasn¡¯t paying attention to the game, but one eye lined up the shot. The challenger struck the cue ball carefully, precisely, and just as it hit the black, Andy summoned all of his Augmentation¡¯s Enhanced Precision and flicked the apple pip at the black. It pinged off the ball quietly, altering its trajectory minutely. The black bounced off the teeth of the pocket, rolling back on itself.


    ¡°Unlucky,¡± Andy said. ¡°I thought you had that.¡±


    The man frowned at the ball, then stared at Andy. ¡°You did something.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be sour.¡± Andy chalked his que, attention fixed on the table, pointedly ignoring his opponent. Andy lined up the shot and struck it with all his power. The white ball detonated like a bullet punching the black ball towards the back pocket.


    As though it hit an invisible wall, the black ball rocketed off the table into a crowd of spectators. A man yelped and dropped his drink as the ball struck him.


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Andy said. ¡°You did something.¡±


    ¡°Too much topspin.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s bullshit!¡± Andy threw his que at the merc like a javelin, then jumped onto the table and kicked him in the head. Like an explosion, pandemonium broke out. Somebody grabbed his legs from behind and pulled him off his feet. Slamming into the table, Andy snarled and kicked at his attacker. Hands reached for him, hungry like the undead. Like a shot of whiskey, Andy¡¯s Evasive Fire protocols flared. Andy rolled off the table and grabbed another que from the rack. He swung it like a club as men assailed him, smacking one in the skull, another in the knee. A third man grabbed the que as he swung it, tossing it aside.


    Darting for the fireplace, Andy snatched a handful of winnings from the mantlepiece and fled to the staircase. Drawing a dagger concealed in his beltline, Andy crouched on the bottom stairs, ready to pounce. ¡°Come on then, fuckers.¡±


    Two more of his opponent¡¯s posse drew concealed daggers. Andy stiffened. His mind raced. His Augmentation¡¯s powers could only take him so far. Knife fights weren¡¯t exactly his specialty. For once, he didn¡¯t fancy his odds. There were windows upstairs. He could jump out of one, break into the shed outside and reclaim his guns, then kill everyone who had cheated him.


    A gunshot bellowed like a father¡¯s command, silencing the room. The big barkeep stood in the doorway wielding a double barrel shotgun. ¡°Quit fighting now!¡±


    Any spectators who hadn¡¯t already ducked for cover, backed off, leaving three mercenaries who Andy had pissed off standing in the centre of the room. The fourth was on his knees, clutching his bloody skull.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Alister,¡± the Barkeep said. ¡°But you know the rules.¡±


    ¡°I was defending myself,¡± the tall merc said, straightening his shoulders, glaring at Andy. ¡°That man is a bad sport, and a sore loser.¡±


    Andy flipped him off. ¡°Three-nil says otherwise.¡±


    ¡°You lost, you must pay.¡±


    ¡°Come and get it.¡±


    ¡°Fucking hell, Andy.¡± Clara entered behind the barkeep, hand on her holstered pistol.


    The barkeep turned, saw her firearm and laid a hefty hand on her bicep. ¡°Don¡¯t you even think about drawing that in my establishment, young lady.¡±


    Andy¡¯s attention fixed on the back of the barkeep¡¯s neck. He must have a deathwish to grab his sister like that.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Clara held up her hands. ¡°I heard a gunshot, I came from outside.¡±


    ¡°Lad, take her guns,¡± the barkeep said to a serving boy. He turned back to the common room. ¡°There¡¯ll be no more games tonight. Any more trouble, and I¡¯ll be kicking out. That¡¯s including you Patrician lot.¡±


    Clara gave her pistol up and stormed over to Andy. ¡°Give me it.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What you¡¯ve won. You¡¯ve been betting, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Andy handed over one of the pouches. It was full of small-arms ammunition, six blister packs of painkillers and a tube of superglue.


    ¡°Drinks are on us,¡± Clara announced to the room. ¡°A round for everyone.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s our money you¡¯re paying with,¡± one of the mercs argued. He was stocky and bald, shaped like a fat shotgun shell.


    ¡°Listen,¡± Clara said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t here for the details, but I get the picture. Let¡¯s forget the bets, you lot take what¡¯s on the shelf, that should split the pot fifty-fifty. Call it a draw.¡±


    ¡°I earned that playing the room,¡± Andy said.


    Clara turned to him, lowering her tone. ¡°Then you should have got out when the getting was good,¡± She faced the mercs again. ¡°Gentlemen, might I assume you are the New Patricians I¡¯ve been hearing about.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s us,¡± the tall one said. ¡°Hello again.¡±


    Clara paused. Her back was turned to Andy, but he had trouble reading her expression at the best of times. ¡°Alister. I¡¯ve got business with you.¡±


    Slowly, he nodded. His demeanour changed, shoulders relaxing as he took up a table. The townsfolk already sitting there rose with their pints, moving quietly away to the back of the room without complaint. The tall merc ignored them. ¡°My apologies for this brutishness. I did not recognise your partner.¡±


    ¡°Forget about it,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°It is only natural for stags to butt heads once in a while.¡± He smiled. ¡°Am I right?¡±


    ¡°I suppose so.¡± Clara spoke in a distant, reserved tone she often put on while trying to figure someone out.


    ¡°Then be our guests. I must insist. Let us talk about the mission for Blue Eyes, which I assume has already failed.¡±


    The mercs sat back at their table as the serving boy carried over fresh pints, but Clara lingered near the stairwell with Andy. The serving boy approached her and took a sack of winnings as payment, then held his hand out to Andy. ¡°Your weapon, sir.¡±


    ¡°This?¡± Andy said, holding the knife in his finger and thumb in an attempt to make it look small and unthreatening. ¡°It¡¯s cutlery.¡±


    The boy scowled.


    ¡°Andy, just give him it,¡± Clara said.


    Andy gave up the backup dagger, grateful to have a second backup stashed inside his boot.


    ¡°I hear you¡¯re the ones with an AMC in town?¡± Clara said. The air was terse, the common room much quieter than before the fighting had started.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± their leader said. ¡°We have an Augmentation Master Console in our camp. It is fully functional.¡±


    ¡°Think you can play nice?¡± Clara asked Andy under her breath.


    ¡°If there¡¯s a drink in it for me.¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you had enough?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still standing, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    Clara groaned. ¡°Glad to see you back to full health.¡±


    ¡°Not if I can help it.¡± Andy clicked his fingers at the serving boy. ¡°Whiskey. Top shelf.¡± He threw the kid a smattering of miscellaneous rounds like throwing bird seed. The boy jumped and caught one, but the others bounced and fell to the floor. ¡°Well that¡¯s embarrassing.¡± Andy threw one last round at the boy''s feet. ¡°Make that two, one for yourself. Get an early start in life, kid.¡±

 Chapter 36 - The New Patricians

    The common room stunk of a sour atmosphere. Townsfolk and travellers kept to themselves, talking in hushed voices at scantily lit tables in the recesses of the spacious room. The four members of Alister¡¯s Boys lounged at the largest table opposite the centre fireplace. Their leader, whom Andy had picked a fight with, motioned to two chairs opposite him. Clara accepted the invitation, dragging one chair slightly away from the table as she sat so that she would have room to leap into action if necessary.


    Alister was tall and toned, statuesque with brass coloured skin which glowed with charisma. Sandy blonde hair fell to the shoulders of his denim jacket. He leaned back in his chair, a self-important sneer plastered on his lips. ¡°Fancy this, a joyous reunion.¡± Their leader lifted his wine bottle in salute and chugged.


    ¡°After such a hasty departure,¡± Clara said. ¡°You left us to deal with quite a lot of zombies, you know. A substantial horde.¡±


    ¡°Our information was incorrect,¡± Alister said, shifting his gaze to one of his companions¨Can old man wearing a hooded raincoat.


    ¡°Shitshow.¡± The hooded man held a cup of whisky in both hands, leaning over it, staring into the bronze liquid, transfixed. He was the eldest at the table, likely in his forties, although the stress and trials of the apocalypses aged survivors beyond their years. A scar severed his nostril and cut into his lip, Clara could tell where it had been sewn back onto his face where the hairs of his moustache wouldn¡¯t grow. She remembered talking to him on the roadside weeks ago, before they had entered the carnivorous jungle at the beginning of their quest for Blue Eyes.


    ¡°By sunrise, we were outside the city limits.¡± Alister faltered, his eyes darted towards the ceiling. ¡°Our tire needed changing. The Harmony woman who accompanied us¨CStephanie¨Cwas bitten while the doors were open. Unfortunately, she died.¡±


    Clara narrowed her eyes. Until now, she had forgotten about the Harmony member escorting Alister¡¯s boys, and now she was dead, with no witnesses other than the Patricians. Clara wondered what secrets might have died with her.


    ¡°By the time we returned¡± Alister continued. ¡°You and the other team had disappeared.¡±


    ¡°Sorry we couldn¡¯t wait for you to catch up.¡± Clara removed her combat jacket in the warmth of the inn¡¯s common room. Grime and blood stained black vest beneath. She fixed her hair in a ponytail beneath her cap and ordered food and drink from the serving boy. She had hoped to hop into the bathhouse while the water was still warm, but Andy¡¯s antics had complicated things. Besides, if James was correct, then these were the gang who possessed an AMC in Milltown, a rarity, given how remote the settlement was.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing you didn¡¯t recover the payload then?¡± Clara said, probing for information, keeping her voice even. If they knew what was inside the payload, and that she had injected the serum for herself, they might try taking her back to Blue Eyes by force, seeking payment for retribution.


    ¡°No,¡± another man said. He was short and bald, stocky, verging on the chubby side. Tattoos of daggers and flames rose up his thick neck, half concealed beneath a turquoise tracksuit. His accent was unlike Alister¡¯s, closer to home for Clara. ¡°Any clues where it went?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t at the research centre,¡± Clara said. ¡°Neither were the scientists. We found them on the road at a¡­ what would you call it¡­ An indoor playground centre?¡±


    ¡°Massive Fun,¡± Andy said, tottering back in his chair, gazing at the ceiling, glass of whiskey in his lap.


    ¡°Did you ever retrieve it?¡± Alister asked.


    ¡°No. It was stolen.¡±


    ¡°By whom?¡±


    ¡°Cultists dressed like goths. They took it back to a settlement called Hallow Hill. We tried to retrieve it there. The other team with us¨CThe Hogs¨Cdidn¡¯t make it that far. Zombies.¡±


    The hooded man withdrew a map from his coat pocket, unfolding a section onto the table, pointing at a mountain range which stretched from the coast into the north. ¡°Here?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡±


    ¡°Where exactly?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re close,¡± Clara said, cautious to avoid details, aware of the value of her information.


    ¡°Cultists?¡± the bald man asked. ¡°We heard it was more than that, like demons and stuff. Avoided it.¡±


    ¡°Knockoff,¡± the hooded man hissed. ¡°That information is ours.¡±


    ¡°Come on now,¡± Alister said merrily. ¡°Let us not be hostile. Drink.¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± Andy said, raising his glass, not taking his eyes off the ceiling.


    The serving boy returned with Clara¡¯s stew and cider, both of which were on the watery side with bits floating inside. A hard biscuit made up for the stew¡¯s insubstantial contents.


    ¡°The payload¡¯s still there,¡± Clara said, addressing the hooded figure¨Che seemed to have the most wits about him. ¡°Presumably, anyway. They stole it, we fought to get it back.¡± She shrugged. ¡°We lost it. There was a tracker, but it broke as well.¡±


    ¡°Sod¡¯s law,¡± Knockoff said, scratching the dagger tattoo on his neck.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Clara said. ¡°Don¡¯t think Blue Eyes will be very happy with us. You lot included.¡± Clara scanned them for a reaction, but they seemed unphased; even the most drunk and loose of their group¨CKnockoff¨Cburped carelessly and swigged his pint as though he¡¯d just heard news about the weather.


    ¡°Shame,¡± Alister said.


    ¡°That was a couple nights ago,¡± Clara continued. ¡°So pardon me if I¡¯m feeling a little unsociable right now. I need a bath and an eighteen hour nap.¡± Finishing the meagre stew, Clara rose from the table and took her jacket underarm. If she left now, the baths would still be lukewarm. But there was one last thing to attend to. ¡°We need to access your AMC, but I¡¯d appreciate it if we talked terms tomorrow. I¡¯m shattered.¡±


    ¡°Leaving so soon. What¡¯s the rush?¡± The bronze skinned man held up his hand, and Clara faltered. She was surprised to feel something tugging at her chest, keeping her at the table. What was that sensation? Fear? No, the way that Alister presented himself with a self-imposed grandeur didn¡¯t impress her, it only came across as phoney. Clara touched her stomach. More likely, the sensation was just indigestion.


    ¡°Take a seat,¡± Alister continued. ¡°Your partner is Augmented? Is he mute?¡±


    Clara looked at Andy, but he wasn¡¯t paying any attention. ¡°He¡¯s Augmented,¡± she said, lingering beside her chair, hesitant to reveal the truth about her own powers. It hardly felt real to her, and what if they asked her to prove it? Ever since the battle on the rooftop, she had been unable to summon her abilities on command, other than to manipulate a flashlight. It was hardly impressive. Could she really call herself Augmented before she underwent initial calibration at an Augmentation Master Console and received her archetype, delineations and unique abilities? Had the serum even worked, or had it been bunk? It was created by Linton¨Cpart of a new wave. Perhaps it hadn¡¯t set in properly, perhaps she¡¯d administered it wrong?


    The words clung to her lips like a butterfly, as though uttering them outloud would scare away the fantasy. ¡°We both are.¡±


    Alister narrowed his eyes, setting his wine bottle on the table. Slowly, his lids opened, bright amber eyes gazing at her for the first time. Clara wasn¡¯t one to turn down a stare, but the softness in his expression made her uncomfortable. ¡°I apologise,¡± he said. ¡°I did not know.¡±


    ¡°No worries,¡± Clara said, taken aback by his sudden intensity. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware it made much difference.¡±


    ¡°To me, the world.¡± He rose from his chair and ushered to her seat. ¡°As you know, my name is Alister. I am of the New Patricians, not a vagabond mercenary, as I may have led you to believe. My companions are Knockoff, Tim and Curly. We work for a higher cause. We are part of a movement that is going to transform the wasteland. Madame, sit and stay a little longer, s''il te pla?t. I am certain you will want to hear what I have to say.¡±


    Clara raised her eyebrows exaggeratedly, then reluctantly sat down. ¡°So you¡¯re saviours of the world? The next big thing?¡±


    Alister¡¯s smile was puzzled. ¡°There¡¯s a hierarchy. There always has been, except, it has revisions. The environment transforms, a new apex predator is born. That¡¯s me, you, and you.¡± Pointing at each of them, Alister held his finger out, waiting for a response.


    Clara got the impression she was supposed to act impressed. ¡°Okay, sure.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nature,¡± Knockoff said. ¡°Always has been.¡±


    ¡°Always will be,¡± Tim added in the shadows of his raincoat hood.


    ¡°The weak serve the mighty,¡± Alister continued. ¡°The strong fight, prosper, and they make the world safer for everyone.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Okay. So you¡¯re a militia?¡±


    Alister shook his head. ¡°The New Patricians are a nation beyond borders. To join, the only border which you must overcome is the one in your mind.¡± Alister tapped his head and again paused for her reaction.


    ¡°Okay. So you¡¯re a cult?¡±


    Alister smiled, sharing a glance with Knockoff. His bulldog-like accomplice didn¡¯t look too impressed with her comment. ¡°We¡¯re not a cult,¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°And we¡¯re not a religion,¡± Alister chimed. ¡°We are a nation of people who follow certain laws. It seems to me, many people of the wasteland have forgotten the days of law, order, patronage, hierarchy. Sapiens scavenge in the dirt, they lock their doors at night afraid of the dark. This town, before we arrived, was lawless, defenceless. People live like medieval peasants. When all the scavenged fuel dries up and all the ammunition is gone, what will they do? Re-invent metallurgy? Pickup the sword and shield to fight mutant and monster?¡±


    Slowly, the room was filling up with patrons again. Disdain lavered Alister¡¯s face as he beheld the townsfolk and travellers gathered in the common room. ¡°There was no plan before the New Patricians made one. And the future through our eyes looks bright, not bleak.¡±


    ¡°Think about it this way,¡± Knockoff said. ¡°If you throw a load of logs on a tiny fire, it¡¯s gonna smother it and go out, but a little ember will stay there. Once that ember builds up again, you¡¯ve got all those logs on the fire, ready to go up in flames. And then, once that¡¯s done, the fire¡¯s bigger than ever. Alister here¡¯s them logs. Us boys are the ember, helping him go up.¡±


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Alister cleared his throat. ¡°Knockoff, that analogy would work were I not being characterised as a log.¡±


    Curly¨Cthe youngest member of their group¨Claughed, leaning into the candlelight, cleaning his nails with a knife in open defiance of the inn¡¯s no-weapons policy. He wore a denim jacket similar to Alister¡¯s, except his was covered in patches and emblems, some of which Clara recognised from the Trojan¡¯s paint job. ¡°A log,¡± he repeated, smirking.


    Knockoff grimaced. ¡°Yeah, alright. Just trying to explain it in a more simple way.¡±


    ¡°Right, so you want to take over?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Not exactly.¡±


    ¡°Then be exact.¡±


    Alister gulped from the wine bottle and wiped his lips. His tone was tinged with notes of sourness when he spoke. ¡°I prefer poetry because it suits the gravitas of the subject. However, if you would I rather I be blunt, then so be it. We, Augmented humans, are the next rung in human evolution, a step above the sapien. Homo augmentus. Our DNA is altered permanently. When two Augmented individuals bear a child, do you know what happens?¡±


    ¡°What happens?¡±


    ¡°That child possesses abilities too. There is no guidance from an artificial intelligence assistant. That must still be injected and calibrated. However, the offspring are Augmented. Quicker, more powerful, and more intelligent than their antiquated peers¡­ the sapien. A new species.¡±


    Clara opened her mouth to speak, but words escaped her as her thoughts raced ahead. She glanced aside, receding into her mind, considering the implications.


    ¡°A superior species,¡± Alister continued before her thoughts could catch up. ¡°One built for the sole purpose of running the world, plucking humans from the brink of extinction and bringing them into a new age.¡±


    ¡°The rapture,¡± Tim said. ¡°Chosen angels.¡±


    ¡°And you are one of them.¡± Candlelight swam inside Alister¡¯s golden-brown eyes. ¡°Both of you.¡±


    Andy rocked forward in his chair, rejoining the table. ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is I¡¯m the chosen one?¡±


    Clara held her breath. It was rare that Andy got involved in conversation like this on ethics or philosophy. The fact that he was paying attention at all was significant in itself.


    ¡°Chosen one of many,¡± Alister responded.


    Andy wrinkled his nose. ¡°Not interested.¡±


    ¡°Whether you¡¯re interested or not, it has been decided. Some say that the gods declare their saints. I believe it is more like¡­ you say¡­ the luck of the draw.¡± Alister laughed to himself, louder than was necessary. ¡°The serum I injected was not intended for me. No, I took it by force. Excuse me if I¡¯m wrong, but judging by your ages, neither of you were in service of military during the cataclysm?¡±


    Clara shook her head. ¡°I was ten.¡±


    ¡°Then your Augmentation was not ordained by the powers of the old world, but rather, the way of the new. Might proves right.¡±


    Clara shrugged. ¡°It was a career move.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but you downplay your transformation,¡± Alister continued, spreading his arms wide. ¡°You are at the pinnacle of a changing world. You don¡¯t know, do you, just how beautiful you are.¡±


    Andy snorted. ¡°Cheers mate.¡±


    Alister smiled at the comment, but something sinister flickered across his face. ¡°You are welcome, sir.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re big shots,¡± Clara said. ¡°Why haven¡¯t I heard of you?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re pilgrims,¡± Alister said. ¡°The vanguard of our great nation.¡±


    Clara made a point of looking around the common room. Seated were a mix of folk with dirty skin and calloused eyes. Farmers with their backs slouched and mothers with shoulders shrunk. One man with a blanket for a beard chuckled to himself beside the fireplace, fiddling with a beaded necklace, staring into the flames. There were three men at the opposite side of the room who looked better fed than the rest, a militia or mercenaries. Fighting paid the best because it meant the shortest lifespan.


    ¡°Is this room a part of your nation?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Alister said. ¡°In fact, we never intended to remain here so long.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± she asked.


    ¡°We got stranded,¡± Knockoff said.


    ¡°An act of god,¡± Tim added, twisting a gold ring around his finger.


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Alister lit a cigarette and took a drag, passing the pack around his gang. ¡°We have been occupied civilising the sapes, spreading the word of the supremacy, preparing these people for what is to come. It is a grace of charity which we offer out of mercy.¡±


    ¡°How gracious of you,¡± Clara said sarcastically.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Alister said, seemingly not registering her tone.


    ¡°We offer the sapes protection from the apocalypses, and they pay us for our troubles, much like the governments of old, except our rule is founded on power, not politics.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem so dangerous around here,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Ah, and you have us to thank.¡± Alister raised an eyebrow, smug with his own reporte.


    Clara thought back to what James had told her about the locals of Milltown, how they had banded together during the cataclysm to protect their land, and had prospered since. It didn¡¯t quite match with Alister¡¯s account of things. They might not be perfect or pious, but then who was in the wasteland? Clara and Andy needed access to an AMC, and an employer who could pay them right. Compromises would have to be made. ¡°Let¡¯s wrap this up. How much for access to your AMC?¡±


    ¡°Time to recalibrate?¡± Alister said. ¡°Do you adore it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s grand,¡± Clara said bluntly.


    ¡°Ahh, but running the console is not cheap,¡± Alister said.


    ¡°Yeah, I imagine,¡± Clara said. ¡°But I¡¯m the chosen one, aren¡¯t I? Do I get a discount?¡±


    ¡°Forgive me for saying this, Clara, but until you join the New Patricians, all you¡¯ve chosen is yourself, not the future for mankind. You¡¯re just a loose cannon, looking for its target.¡±


    Clara narrowed her eyes. ¡°Actually, what I am is a mercenary. There¡¯s nothing loose about it.¡±


    ¡°We will disagree. Were you a member of our nation, we would freely allow you to use our Augmentation Master Console for calibration, at our expense. However, we simply cannot extend this generosity to strangers. I am sorry.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the price then?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°We will accept trade. Salvage, electronics, batteries, ammunition especially. Why don¡¯t you start by telling me what you have.¡±


    Clara¡¯s eyes wandered the ceiling as she took a mental stock of their supplies. ¡°A little small arms ammunition. A .45 pistol¡­ I could tell you where our jeep broke down. It¡¯s not too far from here, about a day¡¯s drive. There was a fair bit of salvage inside, too much for us to carry on our bike.¡±


    ¡°Broke down?¡±


    ¡°After the fight,¡± Clara said. ¡°Trust me, the cultists came out worse for wear.¡±


    Alister wrinkled his nose. ¡°I would send a team to your coordinates, but there¡¯s no guarantee of what you left behind. That¡¯s a lot of trouble for a little trade.¡±


    ¡°We can work for it then,¡± Clara said. ¡°Got any jobs?¡±


    Curly grinned into his pint, but Alister glared at him. The teenager ate his smile.


    ¡°There is indeed something keeping us here in Milltown,¡± Alister said. ¡°A salvage operation in an abandoned factory nearby.¡±


    Clara nodded. ¡°Easy peasy.¡± She set her plate aside and rose from the table. ¡°Let¡¯s chat details in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Of course, I am grateful for the time you have given us. We¡¯re on the east side of town. Our flag is flying high, you cannot miss it. Three white spears¨Cthe sanctified needles of the serum. First, you may recalibrate for free. This is my gift to you. But your companion¡­ He may recalibrate once the job is done.¡±


    ¡°If you want the best results for the job, you¡¯ll let us both recalibrate now.¡±


    ¡°Then what incentive would you have to work?¡±


    Clara tried to think of some sort of collateral she could offer them, but they would need everything they carried for the mission. Frankly, they were broke. ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°But we¡¯ll need ammunition for the mission.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know what the mission is yet,¡± Alister said.


    ¡°Well if four strong men like you can¡¯t do it yourselves, I¡¯m guessing it involves a lot of shooting.¡±


    Alister smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can spare.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure.¡±


    Alister dragged on his cigarette, yet his eyes were unwaveringly on Clara, glowing with a soft confidence. ¡°Oh, the pleasure has been mine, princess.¡±


    Clara ushered Andy up to their room then ran downstairs into the bathhouse. Rinsing the black dye which she had applied to disguise herself as a goth out of her hair, she soaked in the lukewarm tub trying to settle her thoughts. That night, despite her exhaustion, Clara lay awake in bed. The luxury of the inn¡¯s walls only made her feel isolated, trapped. Compared to camping outdoors, anyone could be on the other side of the walls, or behind their door, plotting, loading a gun, preparing to break in. She would never hear them, never see them coming.


    Raucous drunken songs and laughter shook the floorboards. Clara bolted upright as men shouted downstairs, half expecting they were under attack. Andy snored loudly in the bed opposite, oblivious to the world.


    Settling back under the covers, Clara repeated what Alister had said in her head. She was unsure how she felt yet about it. A child had been born with Augmented powers. A new species. The future of mankind, supposedly. Was it true?


    Clara had come across a lot of fanatics in the wasteland, possessed with wild ideas about the cataclysm, what had caused the multitude of apocalypses, where humanity was heading?


    There was a theological explanation: the cataclysm was divine intervention or abandonment, punishment for humanity''s decadent ways; that zombies and demons were all hellspawn, and the insanity which gripped the world was the work of the devil himself.


    Then there was a more scientific explanation: that a wave of freak astronomical radiation had swept the planet, directly causing some apocalypses such as asteroidal impact and nuclear zones, mutations and extreme weather, but neither theory could explain everything.


    The most lunatic explanation Clara had ever heard was ironically the most consistent: a disciple of the Visionaries had once spilled the beans at a bar while drunkenly chatting her up. He had explained the Visionaries believed the cataclysm had occurred when a shift in reality had caused fiction to merge with reality. The implausible manifested, fueled by a malicious energy; people¡¯s worst nightmares and their most oppressive fears had burst to life and taken over the world. Any more than that, he hadn¡¯t been taught, or had managed to keep a secret, despite how much Clara laughed and probed for more.


    All of those theories had combined in Clara¡¯s mind over the years to form her definitive answer: a god-like super alien psychic subconscious storm-being, with a penchant for science fiction movies.


    However, for all the theories of the past, few people possessed a vision for the future. For the first time in her life, Clara considered what the future would look like for the human race, not just for her and Andy. What would the future hold for the people of Milltown? For the civilians of Quadra? What would life be like for the average person in the next ten, twenty, thirty years? Fuel supplies were dwindling and would disappear, as would ammunition, unless someone figured out a way to manufacture it.


    Could she and Andy stockpile enough wealth to ever retire? First of all, they needed a base of operations to store their equipment and start rebuilding their lives. Clara closed her eyes, envisioning their little room which Blue Eyes had given them inside Quadra. They had stayed there just five months, working their way up the social ladder, firstly doing jobs for merchants before catching Old Blue Eyes¡¯ attention. But now, their room would have been cleared out, their possessions repossessed or destroyed. There was nothing to go back to.


    Clara¡¯s leg vibrated. She shook it, trying to release the impulse, then rubbed the muscle in her hip. Suddenly, a surge of energy shot down her arm. She winced. The twitches had become so strong, they were painful now, but she didn¡¯t know how to stop them. A tugging sensation had been bothering her all day; she had assumed it was due to her dirty clothes chafing her skin, perhaps a rash, but now that she was bathed and undressed, she realised that the feeling persisted. It felt as though her skin was being stretched tighter over her flesh. There was a dull ache in her abdomen, and a sensation of growing pains in her feet; she flexed her toes, just as she had done as a child, as though stretching with the growing pains would aid her body¡¯s transformation, and ease her discomfort. It seemed to work, even if it was just because she convinced herself it did.


    Clara combed her hair absentmindedly. A blue light strayed in the air before her face, but dissipated before she could locate the source. Had she done that? Focussing on the electrical sensation in her nerves, Clara tried to force her shoulder to twitch again. It felt like trying to will her ear lobes to move, like her grandad used to impress her with.


    Suddenly, a surge shot down her arm. Clara struck a finger out and focussed the energy into the tip. It felt like someone was pinching her fingertip with pliers. Then it began to glow, soft and blue. Clara moved her finger before her face, watching the light trail and dissipate. Her mouth was agape. She could barely believe what was happening. She played with lights, summoning more energetic surges, focussing on the sensations in her body. Doing so put her in a state of meditation, and brought her a reflection of peace. They may have failed to complete their mission with Old Blue Eyes, but at least she had this. The serum inside her bloodstream altering her genetics, transforming her body into a weapon, may have been manufactured by Linton and his team of scientists, but no one could refute that it was hers now. She wasn¡¯t proud of being a thief, but neither would she beat herself up over the fact. It had been necessary for their survival, and once she calibrated her powers tomorrow, she and Andy would rebuild their lives.


    The future was bright.

 Chapter 37 - The Three Syringes

    Clara awoke the next morning to the sounds of birds chirping outside. Absent-mindedly, she named the species of bird in her head according to their song, just like her grandmother had taught her as a child. There was the fresh, tuneful song of the blackbird accompanied by the chatter of sparrows and the repetitive eclectic verse of the wren, coaxing her into the soft recesses of her mind. Half asleep, she envisioned waking up in her childhood bedroom. She was high up in her bunk bed, cosy beneath unicorn bedsheets; a poster of a pop star was stuck to her wardrobe which overflowed with clothes, the centrepiece of which was her karate gi and her blue belt; beneath her bunk bed was a den which smelled of crayons and felt tips, curtained with a thin pink fabric, it was her personal space to play and read and organise her toys.


    Clara opened her eyes slowly, wishing that the vision would remain. The bare walls of the lodge stared back, but a sliver of sunlight cut through the blinds, riding on the fresh air of morning, painting the timber walls in orange rays. It wasn¡¯t so bad. Clara checked her watch. It was still broken, but judging by the height of the sun, she¡¯d overslept.


    Dressing in her dirty combat trousers, a black vest and her camo jacket, Clara regretted not having had room on the motorbike for luxuries such as spare clothes or toiletries. She would have to find those supplies in town, or else scavenge them on the road.


    ¡°Get up.¡± She kicked Andy''s bed. He grunted and rolled over, wincing as a sunbeam struck him through the window.


    ¡°What ungodly hour is this?¡±


    ¡°About half-ten.¡±


    Andy pulled the sheets over him like a corpse covering itself in its grave. Clara picked up his leather jacket from the floor and tossed it in his face. ¡°I¡¯m going to calibrate for the first time, Andy. Don¡¯t you want to come with me?¡±


    ¡°Later.¡±


    ¡°It can¡¯t wait.¡±


    Andy grumbled, curling up beneath the sheets. She knew he had drunk a lot the night before but normally he could handle the hangover. She stood above him for a moment, reluctant to beg for his company. If he wouldn¡¯t assist her, then she could manage it on her own.


    Exiting the inn, Clara took a deep breath of morning mist, evaporating in the sun, carrying the flavour of the soil and nearby forest. The acrid smell of vomit tickled her nose, a patch was splattered on the steps of the inn. Clara avoided the sick as a serving boy ran ahead of her to open her footlocker in the storage shed. Withdrawing her sidearm, she set off into town. The village rose slightly towards the east where the New Patricians¡¯ camp was situated. Along the riverfront, many of the buildings were renovated and occupied. An old dog sunbathing in a ragged basket watched Clara through one lazy as she walked by. Potted herbs shared the sunlight, hanging from the window sill above the dog. In an alleyway, Clara pressed against the wall as an older man and his son squeezed past her carrying a large timber bearing. They dropped it on a stack beside a double-handled log saw. A pile of rubble slouched beside an organised stack of salvaged bricks. A rope pulley hung above them, ready to carry heavy materials up to the second floor. Clara wondered what it would be like to rebuild a house, to have somewhere to live. To live with a family, to have someone else other than Andy for company.


    Following the main road, Clara headed towards the marketplace. However, the scene had soon changed. Gone were the stalls displaying military-grade firearms or crude and unusual martial weapons; absent was the well-stocked travelling pharmacy, and the raw materials merchant who sold coils of wire, both barbed and electrical, as well as nets and chains, cement and masonry tools. All that remained were the locals: merchants who crocheted blankets on their doorsteps and repaired scavenged pottery; a bracket hung with rabbit corpses, occupied by a boy too young to join his brothers on the trail; an ancient man, as crooked and rusty as the nails which he plied from scrap timber and hammered back into shape to be reused.


    A group of a dozen affluent traders were gathering on the southern road, tying canvases over their wagons, topping their engines with fuel, checking tires and feeding horses. The roads were often safer when travelled in numbers, assuming a group of traders could afford to hire caravan guards. Judging by what stalls were left at the crossroads, Milltown would be a lot quieter without them.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she said, approaching the fuel jockeys¡¯ truck. Two teenage boys dangled their legs off the back while an older man sat in the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°Where are you heading?¡±


    ¡°South,¡± one boy said. ¡°Altura.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s that.¡±


    ¡°South,¡± he smirked.


    ¡°Reckon you can give me a better answer?¡± she asked the other lad, a little younger.


    ¡°Near the sea,¡± he said, fidgeting with his hands.


    ¡°Thanks, kid.¡± She¡¯d not heard of Altura. It could be good for work, if Milltown and the Patricians didn¡¯t work out. Clara continued east, taking an underpass beneath a railway, and climbing the winding roads upwards, out of the valley¡¯s centre. Further from the riverbank, the old brick buildings wilted into disarray. Grappled by vines, sapped by tree roots, submitted by the weather, many were unoccupied, the spaces between them overgrown. A few well-looked-after buildings stood lonesome amongst the decay. Clearly, Milltown¡¯s population had been vastly reduced since the cataclysm, the same as anywhere in the wasteland. It was a testament to their community that anyone had survived, and they were still striving to rebuild.


    A church steeple raised its neck above the town, sat atop an ancient hill, flying the New Patricians flag: a red canvas with three spikes piercing a crescent. Two battlewagons were parked at a Y shaped intersection. One, she recognised to be the Trojan. Its muzzle-like dozer blade and hull had been scrubbed clean of carnivorous plants and zombie entrails since she last saw it in Marsay. The second vehicle was similar in design, except that the rear compartment swung on an axel, and the monstrous face painted onto the front of it resembled more of a canine werewolf to the Trojan¡¯s horned stallion. The driver¡¯s side door was ajar and someone perched on the slate stone wall nearby smoking a cigarette. Clara couldn¡¯t be sure from the distance, but his facial features seemed to be distorted, as though he was caked in makeup. Either he wore padded gloves, or else his hands were inhumanly chunky.


    Noticing that Clara was staring, the stranger raised his chin in greeting, and somewhat invitation. Clara turned away, scanning a trail of motorbikes which were leant up against the roadside wall, which led to a third lorry, even larger than the battlewagons, taking up the entire road. Its jet-black hull was marred only by the Patrician¡¯s insignia on the bonet, the black glass of its windshield were like sunglasses, monochrome in contrast to the demonic artwork of the battlewagons.


    Clara climbed the steps of the small hill up towards the old church. She passed beneath the ancient brick archway and rasped on the heavy wooden door knocker. Before long, someone opened the doors a crack. A dry, smoky smell wafted outside.


    ¡°Who is it?¡±


    ¡°Clara. I have an appointment with Alister.¡±


    ¡°Oh, one minute.¡± The man left the door. He didn¡¯t invite her in. She waited for a few minutes. Inside the church, she could hear a muffled conversation. A woman¡¯s voice cut through the quiet, sounding distressed. Impatient, Clara pulled the door open and slipped inside.


    Sunlight beamed through the stained glass windows, sullied by plumes of soot and tobacco smoke, yet shimmering in moats of dust, as though mixed in with the sullied air were glints of citrine gemstone. The centre of the room had been cleared for a firepit, which smouldered beneath a large bronze cookpot. The church¡¯s pews had been rearranged and dressed in canvases to create a dozen or more dens, inside which slumbered the New Patrician militia, or soldiers, whatever they wanted to call themselves. By the detritus of empty mess tins, they seemed well fed, and certainly well boozed; the scent of spilled alcohol pooled in the cracks of the stone floor, mingling with bodily aromas, which suggested that the group had a lax attitude towards sanitation.


    At the back of the church on a raised platform, Alister lounged on a pile of mattresses surrounded by a wall of furniture: draws, pews and tables stacked atop one another, dotted with dripping white candles. Much of the furniture was precariously perched high above his head, seemingly cemented in place by the melted wax. It was a wonder how, or why, they had balanced it like that.


    A woman stood before him carrying a cane, dressed in the scavenged rags common of Milltown folk. Her long grey hair ran down her spine¨Ca white streak against her black cloak. She looked small before Alister¡¯s castle of mattresses and furniture, yet stalwart, like a badger against a bear, refusing to back down.


    Nearby, a young, unshaven man spotted her. ¡°Who said you could come in?¡± He hissed in a hushed voice. Rising, he unslung an assault rifle off the bracket of a nearby pew and approached her.


    ¡°I¡¯m Augmented,¡± Clara said. ¡°I heard that means something amongst you lot.¡±


    The guard stopped a few paces before her. ¡°Well, wait outside.¡±


    Clara ignored him. If she had any judge of character, she didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be bold enough to force her to leave, and she had no interest in appearing amenable. Nearby, a bleary eyed face poked out of the nearest den and regarded her. Clara recognised the boy from the night before. His name was Curly, like his ginger hair. If Andy was having a bad hangover, then Curly was on death¡¯s door. He slumped onto his mattress with a groan, head hanging over the side, forehead pressed into the cool paving stone floor.


    ¡°In seven months, my daughter will be with a child, then who will look after her?¡± The woman announced without turning to regard the commotion Clara had caused. ¡°Your man should have thought of the consequences before he seduced her.¡±


    Alister yawned and reached out for a bottle on one of the shelves above his head. As he pointed at it, the bottle shimmied and dropped off the edge as though Alister had pulled on it with an invisible string. The bottle fell into his hands with a splash. Alister swigged it, then addressed the old woman. ¡°What do you want me to do about it?¡±


    Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°You must reduce our taxes, please. We will need everything we can to bring a child into this world. And also, I would like payment. I would like him to pay us.¡±


    The woman pointed towards three men lounging together amongst the mattress laden dens, but they gave so little reaction, Clara couldn¡¯t tell whom she¡¯d meant to point out. Clara recognised Knockoff amongst the men, sneering and shaking his head. He had a belt tied around his forearm, while beside him, a companion sterilised a needle in the flame of a lighter. Clara hadn¡¯t taken the man for a junkie, nor any of the Patricians for that matter, they seemed too healthy for that. Perhaps then, the clear liquid inside the cylinder was medicine?


    When Clara returned her gaze to Alister, the man was staring directly at her across the church. An unusual sensation tugged at Clara¡¯s stomach, tilting her forwards as though she was light headed. Clara assumed a fighting stance¨Cone foot forward¨Cand took a steadying breath. The feeling passed.


    ¡°Let us discuss this another time,¡± Alister said, rising from the pile of mattresses.


    ¡°Please,¡± the woman went on. ¡°We must begin saving for the baby now, and without a father, who will work to feed it?¡±


    Alister waved at her like swatting a fly. ¡°We will arrange something.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you said last week.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± he snapped, standing above her on the dias so that his feet were at her head height. ¡°What is your family¡¯s name?¡±


    ¡°We are the Hickenses, sir.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Knockoff, compensate the Hickneses.¡±


    The stout man laughed, but when the sternness in Alister¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, he scowled. ¡°What, really?¡±


    ¡°Yes, really. And see that Craig wears a condom in the future. We have plenty in supply.¡±


    Knockoff¡¯s hesitation spoke volumes¨CAlister¡¯s decree seemed to have caught him by surprise. ¡°Okay.¡±


    Alister hopped down from the dias with a grace Clara hadn¡¯t expected of the tall man. He landed softly and strode past the old lady, pacing between the row of dens towards Clara. A smile touched his lips as he approached her.


    ¡°That¡¯s not good enough,¡± Lady Hickenses said behind him.


    Alister stopped. The smile on his face lingered as he turned away from Clara, but she could hear in the tone of his voice that his merriment had gone. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°The man, Craig, should help raise the child. It¡¯s his duty.¡±


    ¡°His duty lies with me,¡± Alister said.


    ¡°This is just my belief,¡± Lady Hickenses said. ¡°He is responsible for the child. It¡¯s his now. Ours. He is bound to us.¡±


    ¡°Bull-shit.¡± The voice came from a man stooped on a mattress beside Knockoff. He was about Andy¡¯s age, but much chubbier, with short blonde hair and small eyes.


    ¡°Yes you are,¡± the old woman¡¯s voice rose in pitch. ¡°You lied to her-¡±


    ¡°Control yourself,¡± Alister snapped. ¡°In my home, you shall behave yourself.¡±


    Lady Hickenses bowed her head, weaving her fingers over her stomach, shrinking inwards as though she¡¯d taken a blow.


    ¡°If you¡¯re so inclined,¡± Alister continued, his voice low. ¡°When we retire to the Golden City, you may join us.¡±


    ¡°Our home is here,¡± she replied softly.


    ¡°Then remain here, and be content.¡± Alister turned his back on the old woman and approached Clara. He scowled at the rifleman who had failed to stop her entering, and opened his mouth to speak when something tripped him. There was a yelp like a dog from under his foot. Curly rolled over, clutching his skull where Alister had accidentally kicked him. The tall man turned around, fists bawled, his sandy blonde hair rising on an imperceptible draft. The atmosphere was suddenly tense. Moats of dust and soot seemed to be drawn towards Alister¡¯s fuming form, then he unclenched his fists, and the air settled.


    ¡°Watch yourself, boy.¡± Alister turned around to Clara, the humour of it lost on his face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that. Please, let us go outside and get some fresh air.¡±


    Clara followed his invitation out of the church and onto the small hill overlooking Milltown. From this vantage, Clara could see all the way over the roofs of buildings, past the trading district and the Haven Inn towards the forest on the opposite side of the valley. A smokestack rose from the trees there; if Clara had her bearings right, that would be the cartographer¡¯s cottage.


    ¡°This way.¡± Alister said, leading her down the church path towards the black lorry. The vehicle filled the villege¡¯s small road, they had to squeeze between it and the slate walls circumventing the church¡¯s embankment to get to the rear. At the back, Alister unlocked the doors and swung them open.


    ¡°Huh, what?¡± A woman swung around in a hammock and looked down at them from inside. ¡°What time is it?¡±


    ¡°Morning,¡± Alister said. ¡°We¡¯ve got a customer.¡±


    ¡°Christ, I¡¯ll get up then.¡± The woman swung out of her hammock in her underwear, pulling on a black overall and swilling some mouthwash. She unhooked her hammock from one of the lorry¡¯s internal walls, keeping her sleeping bag inside as she hooked both ends together like a cocoon. Spitting the mouthwash outside, she leant on the lorry¡¯s doors. ¡°Right, come on up then.¡±


    Clara climbed into the lorry. There was a small section separated from the lorry¡¯s main compartment by a chain link fence. Beyond the fence, the ceiling and walls were protected by a foot of padded armour. At the rear of the compartment was a glass cylinder braced by metal beams, etched with complex circuitry. Cables ran from it to a console near the fence, the armoured casing of which was made from corrugated metal.


    Clara climbed into the lorry and approached the chain fence as the woman beside her turned the lights on and activated the console. A dull red light illuminated the cylinder from the inside, while dazzling circuitry played across its surface like a pale blue thundercloud.


    Device located within operational range, a voice spoke to her. She jumped, it had been so long since the AI had said anything, she had actually forgotten it was there. Commence initial calibration.


    Clara¡¯s heart raced. This was it. She¡¯d watched Andy calibrate his powers just a handful of times, but always wondered what the process was like. It seemed to cause him pain; would it hurt like her transformation had? A feeling of liquid fire... but she had only ever dreamed of power it granted, and now it was in her hands, ready to be configured, unlocked, truly made her own.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we finished discussing terms last night,¡± Alister said. He stood outside the lorry, arms crossed over his denim jacket. ¡°Allow me to be brief. This console is not powered by conventional means. It runs off a living batter, something that came into our possession¡­ must be two years ago now. However, the battery is dying. We need another. In fact, we would appreciate a few more, if that¡¯s possible.¡±


    Alister gazed out over the valley, pausing for thought. Clara may have prodded him for information had she been more on the ball, but she was distracted by the technician booting up the console beside her. The display screen ran with a landslide of code, none of which made sense to Clara. The techie input a command, and the screen blinked, coming alive with the familiar, military-simple user interface.


    ¡°That¡¯s essentially why we are here,¡± Alister said, retrieving her attention. ¡°We traced where the battery had come from to a factory north west of here. I was going to take the boys out there myself last spring, however, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve just had the displeasure of witnessing, the management of a town of sapes, even so small and unambitious as this one can prove time consuming, and draining.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Clara said, choosing not to voice her doubts. Silently, she wondered if his alcoholic subordinates had something else to do with their shortfalls, or whether the task of retrieving the battery was as simple as he made it out to be. ¡°Nothing Andy and I can¡¯t handle.¡±


    ¡°Good, one more thing. Once you step inside that chamber, you will be entering into a contract with us. I expect a degree of professional honesty. However, regretfully, I understand that we are not allies, but merely employer and employee.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°But it doesn¡¯t have to be this way. If you would accept tutelage under me, then I would willingly indoctrinate you into the New Patricians, teach you our ways, help you to get set up within the nation.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to tell me about contracts,¡± Clara said, avoiding the proposal. ¡°I¡¯m a merc, we¡¯ve got a code.¡±


    ¡°The code, indeed. And how does failing Old Blue Eyes quest affect your code?¡±


    The question stung Clara, but she didn¡¯t let it show. ¡°Not great. Shit happens.¡±


    ¡°Is that in your code?¡±


    ¡°It is, section fifteen.¡±


    Alister chuckled, then held up a finger. ¡°Quickly answer me this. Did you know what the payload was that we were tasked to retrieve?¡±


    ¡°I could guess,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°A weapon,¡± Clara said, considering her answer. The closer to the truth she revealed, the more convincing her lie would be. ¡°A serum.¡±


    ¡°Ding ding,¡± Alister imitated the sound of a bell. It was uncharacteristically playful of him. Clara wondered if he was acting coy, or genuinely beginning to relax around her. ¡°We were going to take it for ourselves, no hard feelings.¡±


    ¡°None taken. We would have retrieved it for Blue Eyes.¡±


    Alister sighed. ¡°But alas, neither of our trepidations bore any fruit. It is a shame that the serum was wasted on some vagabond¡¯s hands. Perhaps we will visit this Hallow Hill and try to pick up on its trail. However, I fear it is long gone.¡±


    ¡°We tracked the payload for as long as we could,¡± Clara said. ¡°Until the tracker stopped beeping, and we ran into the vampire. Survival took priority then.¡±


    Alister nodded as his eyes glazed over and he stared at nothing in particular. ¡°My greatest sympathies lie with the scientists who were tasked to create it. They must have spent years reverse engineering the Bulwark technology, and without the guidance of the master network, it¡¯s a miracle that they managed it at all. But, to what degree, we will likely never find out.¡±


    ¡°To what degree?¡± Clara repeated.


    ¡°Much of the Bulwark technology has been replicated, only diluted. It¡¯s something we Patricians occupy ourselves with. However, a brand new Augmentus¡­ A new archetype. I didn¡¯t think it was possible until recently. And I¡¯m still not sure that it is. This technology comes with risks. Untested, it might kill the recipient, or worse, turn them into an abomination.¡±


    Clara¡¯s heart thumped as anxiety doused her veins. But she wasn¡¯t convinced of Alister¡¯s ramblings. Everybody had a theory about everything. There was only one way to know for sure: try it for yourself.


    Clara had been there when Andy had first calibrated his Augmentation four years ago, but the memory was a hazy spot in her youth. She¡¯d seen him do so a handful of times since then, she knew the procedure: it was advised to undress before entering the chamber, the conductive gel worked better that way. Leaning over the edge of the cargo compartment, Clara seized the doors and closed them one at a time. ¡°Thank you, Alister.¡±


    The disappointment was subtle on Alister¡¯s face as she shut him outside. Clara entered the caged-off section of the lorry¡¯s compartment and undressed down to her underwear, leaving her clothes in a heap outside the calibration chamber with her firearm on top.


    ¡°Ready when you are,¡± the technician said, sitting beside the computer console.


    The door unlocked before her with a decompression hiss, hanging open. Clara stepped inside, trying to force her muscles to relax, and closed the door behind her. The rubber handle felt odd to touch. A sudden sensation of claustrophobia washed over Clara. Despite the cylinder being made of glass, she couldn¡¯t help but feel trapped. Was this a mistake? Should she have forced Andy awake to accompany her? She had been too proud to admit she needed his help, too eager to calibrate to wait for him to get up. Was this a mistake? Could she trust the Patricians to uphold their end of the bargain?


    A calming scent filled the chamber, like lavender and wet soil. A mist enveloped her, clinging to her skin. She breathed quickly, the warm air fresh on her breath like mint. A tingle started at the base of her skull, then spread throughout her body, lighting up her nerves and flooding her brain. It vibrated faster, louder, like a revving engine, until it was more powerful than anything else around her, louder than her body, or the outside world. Clara was awash with ecstasy as she felt herself be lifted out of her body, and pulled through a funnel, drifting into an ever dull, ever dark universe, twinkling with stars.

 Chapter 38 - Electrobiotic Conductor

    Clara floated in space. The air around her was palpable with an unstable energy. It pulled at her invitingly, like a friend tugging on her sleeve. Stretching her fingers, she felt the energy flow through her, igniting her nervous system with a surge. The pleasure was dizzying. Her breath fluttered away from her, but she caught its tail and concentrated on containing the sensation, pushing it down within her, compressing it into her core. A light appeared in the centre of her chest, glowing like the sun. Her fingertips shone with a pale blue electricity, although she couldn¡¯t as much see her fingers as she could sense their light-form. The sensation grew, bringing light to the space around her. She dwelled in the magnitude of space, floating in a nebular. Stars shone behind a shifting aurora, which danced like sirens in the silken threads of a storm. Blue lightning stretched across the sky, igniting pathways between stars, each pulsating like jewels, brilliant pinks and blues and emerald greens.


    The beauty was astonishing. Clara closed her eyes, but the image was burned into her mind so bright it penetrated her eyelids. She was forced to face it. The immensity brought tears to her eyes.


    This is your mind, a voice said. It sounded paternal, wise and patient.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    Yes.


    ¡°It¡¯s incredible. Where am I exactly?¡±


    Physically speaking, your body is inside an Augmentation Master Console¡¯s operational chamber, currently undergoing initial calibration. Consciously, the space you are in is a visual rendering of your psychic field contained predominantly inside your brain tissue and nervous system. The voice echoed as though she was standing inside a cavern.


    ¡°What are the stars?¡±


    The stars, and everything around you, is a visual rendering of electrical events happening inside your physical body and energetic fields. Is it to your liking?


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡± Clara gazed at the sky, eyes wide, submitted by its magnificence.


    Suddenly, the stars dimmed. Auroras dissipated and clouds shrouded the deep space. Clara shook her head, regaining her senses.


    Is that better?


    ¡°Less overwhelming,¡± she said.


    My name is Ohm. Is my name to your liking?


    ¡°Erm, honestly, it¡¯s a bit cheesy.¡±


    Please clarify.


    ¡°Well, if my Augmentation gives me powers of electricity, then calling yourself Ohm¡­ it works, it¡¯s just a bit on the nose.¡±


    I have created a list of names which you might prefer. Please choose among them, or suggest your own: Daniel, William, Thunder God Zeus, Steve-


    ¡°Ohm is fine,¡± Clara said.


    Excellent. Clara, it is nice to meet you.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Clara frowned. The more the artificial intelligence spoke, the more Clara started to notice discrepancies in its voice¨Clittle inhuman giveaways with its tone of voice and inflection. It reminded her of speaking to someone in her dreams¨Cyou had the impression of a conversation, but it was insubstantial. The realisation put her on edge, a primal weariness of ¡®the other¡¯, which she didn¡¯t quite understand. ¡°Are you sentient?¡±


    No, not by conventional definition. My processes are limited to the analytical. I do not feel information. I do not possess a sense of self. My interface is designed to mimic human interaction in order to better communicate and interface with a user, however any approximation to humanness is merely a projection. My personality is a fabrication. If you wish to change any details, please advise, and I shall incorporate them immediately.


    ¡°It¡¯s good so far,¡± Clara said, then tentatively added, ¡°Thank you.¡±


    As your Augmentation Intelligence Assistance, it is my job to communicate with you changes to your DNA as per your Augmentation¡¯s archetype. I will monitor your behaviour in combat and in training, developing and improving your Augmentation¡¯s applications based on feedback. As per your willingness to inject the Augmentation Serum, I have gained administrative access to your DNA and measurable levels of your psyche, including but not limited to your thoughts, feelings, nervous system, distinct memories and desires. My prerogative is simple and inalienable: transform your body, mind and soul, into a soldier of humanity, a bulwark standing before species extinction.


    Two clouds condensed before her eyes, swirling around the eye of a storm until they formed into two orbs. One of the gas giants glowed with a deep yellow aura, which pulsated a hot energy. The second frazzled with blue electricity, unstable and excitable.


    Clara, you have been Augmented with modified Bulwark Project technology. There is no schematic associated with the changes to your DNA within my internal database. My artificial intelligence architecture was developed in the year 2036 by the Bulwark Project. Due to the fact that your Augmentation archetype is unrecorded leads me to predict that the serum which you injected is one of a new, third wave of Augmentation serums. There are programmer notes in my system, but they are encrypted and password protected. I do not have permission to read them.


    ¡°Linton,¡± Clara sighed. ¡°Withholding prick.¡±


    This Augmentation Serum may be experimental and volatile. It is essential that you recalibrate your abilities at an Augmentation Master Console as often as possible during the initial stages of Augmented development.


    ¡°What if I don¡¯t have access to one easily?¡±


    There is a small chance that your DNA will corrupt under the strain of enhancements. Currently, your body is submerged in a stasis wherein my computing abilities can operate to their full extent, modifying and repairing your DNA, amongst other tasks.


    ¡°What percent are we talking?¡±


    If you fail to calibrate your developing powers for more than thirty days, there is approximately a three percent chance of irreparable corruption to your DNA.


    ¡°Like, growing another toe?¡±


    A toe, or a tumour.


    ¡°Okay. Health and safety aside, what am I looking at here?¡±


    Each of these orbs is a visual rendering of your Augmentation¡¯s delineations. Is this rendering to your liking?


    ¡°Yes. And you don¡¯t need to ask every time. I¡¯ll tell you if I want something changing.¡±


    Affirmative. In the absence of pre-ordained information, the name I have ascribed to your Augmentation¡¯s archetype is: Electrobiotic Conductor. The first delineation I have detected is: Thunder. The yellow orb swelled as it was called. Secondly: Tesla. The blue electrical orb sparked like a surging fuse box. Each delineation possesses unique attributions, and may be refined into specific abilities, which we will develop and strengthen over time. Calibrated abilities may be observed here, and may be summoned at any time.


    A mirage appeared inside the Thunder delineation orb. It was a depiction of Clara, swathed in bright yellow electrical energy. The image clapped its hands and a shockwave detonated from the impact, sending sparks across the cloud.


    Thunderclap, the AI voice said. This ability is rudimentary, with many possibilities for adaptation.


    The mirage Clara then clenched her fist, and a yellow light glowed in her palm, shining between her fingers. Guiding Beacon.


    The Thunder cloud diminished, and Clara turned to the second orb. Blue lightning danced across its surface, and the Clara-lookalike reappeared inside, this time dressed in a gown of blue sparks. The apparition grew brighter, then thrust its palm forward. A shotgun-like burst of electrical energy shot from its palm, fizzing in the air like fireworks. Electronic Surge, the voice said. Furthermore, Teslatic energy may be summoned in a more controlled fashion for a variety of effects.


    Clara remembered the previous night, when she had experimented with the twitching sensation in her arm, forcing it to coalesce into a blue light on her fingertip. ¡°How exactly do I become stronger?¡±


    It is advised that users practise and experiment with these abilities in controlled and uncontrolled environments. Extreme situations may result in more dynamic DNA shifts. My adaptive programming is designed to adapt your DNA to combat any apocalypse.


    ¡°That¡¯s it? Just practise?¡±


    Practice. Experiment. Perfect.


    ¡°You mean this entire time, if Andy had spent some more time at a shooting range, he could have become way stronger?¡±


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    The voice was absent for a few moments. Based on your memories, my analysis indicates that the person Andy has the Augmented archetype of Gunslinger, a first-wave Augmentation. By your own recollection, he was Augmented six years ago. His abilities have developed minutely in that timeframe. There may be an error with his artificial intelligence integration assistant, which prevents him from adapting his Augmented abilities.


    ¡°Nah, he¡¯s just lazy.¡±


    Addressing your initial query, a user must push the use of their Augmentation in order to improve and develop new skills. The Artificial Intelligence Assistant adapts to a user¡¯s environment. In the example given: only powers developed to adapt to a shooting range would be written and implemented.


    A warm feeling expanded in her chest. The vision around her grew hazy. Calibration complete. Terminating visual rendering. The voice¡¯s cavernous intensity ebbed, until it returned to an unobtrusive chatter inside her head. DNA corruption reset to 0%. No network detected. Please connect the console to the Bulwark Master Network in order to upload new information.


    The mist before Clara¡¯s eyes evaporated, until she could see outside the glass chamber. ¡°Sorry to say, but the global network went down years ago. There¡¯s no getting it back.¡±


    Processing.


    Clara unlocked the chamber door and exited. The chamber¡¯s steam vents left behind a gel-like sheen on her skin. She towelled herself down and redressed, wishing once more that she had a clean set of clothes to wear. At the console, the technician was examining a monitor, which displayed information regarding her calibration.


    ¡°That¡¯s private,¡± Clara said, checking her watch. Almost an hour had passed, although it had only felt like ten minutes.


    ¡°Actually, it¡¯s ours,¡± the technician said, scrolling through the analytics. ¡°Our machine, our data.¡±


    Clara ground her teeth. ¡°There should be notes on there from the programmer. I need access to them.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, okay.¡±


    ¡°I need a printout,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get around to it.¡± The technician didn¡¯t take her eyes off the screen.


    ¡°Good,¡± Clara said, refusing to show her frustration. Opening the doors, Clara hopped down from the lorry, adjusting her belt and sidearm¡¯s holster. Alister was leaning against the wall outside, a bottle of wine in his hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but Clara got there first.


    ¡°Brief us on the mission later tonight,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll be at the Haven Inn again. Bring ammunition for a .45, 9mm and 5.56. Whatever you can spare. Like I say, we¡¯re running low ourselves. Of course, the more you give us, the more likely we are to be successful.¡± She¡¯d used the line many times over the years, and it always led to them being well equipped.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have a root around, princess,¡± Alister said, his tone forcefully casual, saluting with three fingers. ¡°See you tonight.¡±


    Clara skirted around the lorry and headed back into town. The sun hit her from behind a cloud, warm and healing. She took a deep breath of crisp spring air, for the first time that year, smelling the change in the seasons. She was Augmented now. The changes were only subtle, and her powers elementary, but with training, before long, she could be formidable. Clara smiled. The sunlight dipped behind a curtain of grey, but she was confident it would return brighter than before.


    Crossing the river, Clara walked up the hillside path towards the cartographer¡¯s cottage. She announced herself at the gate, and James let her in.


    ¡°How are you?¡± Clara asked.


    The old man grunted at her and scampered back inside his workshop at the back of the cramped cottage Clara shut the door behind her, listening to the quiet of the house, hoping that his wife Sonji would appear and greet her. ¡°Where¡¯s Sonji?¡±


    ¡°Out.¡±


    ¡°Alright then,¡± Clara said under her breath. She tiptoed over the clutter, around a tattered tower of cardboard boxes and stood at the table opposite James. ¡°You done with your tinkering yet?¡±


    ¡°Sixteen hours,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re early.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m eager to see what you¡¯ve got.¡±


    James glanced at her, then straightened his back a little. ¡°She¡¯s a beauty. All old architecture.¡± His voice was warmer all of a sudden. ¡°If I had a month to work on her, hell, if I had a week¡­¡± He took her terminal out from under his desk and handed her it. She inspected the device. A small digital screen encased in metal and protective glass. The strap itself was padded on the inside, fastened with a heavy latch. Putting it on, Clara hadn''t realised how naked she¡¯d felt without it. The terminal weighed pleasantly in her arm, but something was different. A touch of cold, like a drop of ice, on the top of her wrist.


    ¡°Leave it alone,¡± James said. ¡°Let it interface.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± After having her genetic information combed over by the Patrician technician earlier that morning, Clara was wary of another invasion of privacy.


    ¡°Wait a minute.¡± The cold ebbed until Clara barely noticed the change. A notification appeared on her terminal. She scowled at the interface. It was all different. Several new tabs appeared on the homepage. Alongside the usual ¡®Maps¡¯, ¡®Database¡¯, ¡®Notes¡¯, ¡®Radio¡¯, and the defunct ¡®Master Network¡¯ tabs were three new sections: ¡®Scanner¡¯, ¡®Direct Link¡¯ and ¡®Augmentation¡¯.


    Clara raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯ve been busy.¡±


    ¡°The scanner has a variable range of ten to fifty metres, depending on what tools are operational.¡± James jumped into the explanation. He spoke almost too quickly to understand. ¡°I have fitted a motion detection, temperature disparity, geiger counter and sonic reflection array, although the array is only rudimentary.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a lot.¡±


    ¡°The direct link is a programme I and some colleagues wrote ourselves years ago. It¡¯s a polite term for hacking. It might come in handy. The cold spot on your arm is a conductor for your AI to interface with the terminal. Click the link.¡±


    Clara opened the Augmentation tab. Displayed before her were the abilities she¡¯d just calibrated at the AMC in written form:


    Thunder Delineation


    Thundercalp (Tier 1): The Electrobiotic Conductor emits thunderous energy from kinetic contact, capable of stunning foes or causing damage in close range.


    Guiding Light (Tier 1): The Electrobiotic Conductor clenches their fist, condensing thunderous energy into a controlled light, usable as a beacon.


    Tesla Delineation


    Teslatic Burst (Tier 1): The Electrobiotic Conductor may ionise their body, summoning power from the atmosphere, nearby electronic equipment and their biological reserves, and transmit this energy in the form of lightning. Control over this ability may lead to a plethora of applications both in and out of combat.


    Neural Shock (Tier 1): Target the nervous system of foes with a precise electrical attack, temporarily paralysing or causing intense disorientation.


    Clara read through the entries, comparing them with what she¡¯d envisioned inside the AMC. ¡°It doesn¡¯t¡­ will this recalibrate me now?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he frowned. ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid. You still need the AMC. That¡¯s just a readout.¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± Clara said. ¡°I¡¯m new to this. Give me a break.¡± She scrolled through her abilities, all in orderly rows with expandable descriptions, and smiled. ¡°Can I get a readout on anyone?¡±


    ¡°Anyone who wears the terminal, yes. Or you can programme it to only work with yourself, or select people. That¡¯s all in the settings.¡±


    Clara scrolled through the information. ¡°This is quite an improvement.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and you owe me big time.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I never asked for an upgrade.¡±


    ¡°No, your terminal did. It was screaming for a cleanup and re-write. Your software is almost ten years old, kid! I thought you were professionals.¡±


    ¡°I am a professional,¡± Clara said. ¡°For one, I don¡¯t bargain for something I can¡¯t afford. And this,¡± she raised her arm, ¡°I can¡¯t afford.¡±


    ¡°You can owe me,¡± James said, sitting back in his chair. ¡°Click on networking.¡±


    ¡°That tab doesn¡¯t do anything.¡±


    ¡°Now it does.¡±


    Clara opened the master network tab. Where before, there was displayed an error message, now there was a blank screen with a single option. The box read ¡®James Clay - Cartographer - Milltown¡¯, followed by a string of numbers she did not recognise.


    ¡°That¡¯s a direct link to my satellites,¡± James said. ¡°Anytime you need to trade, I¡¯ll be on the other end. And currently, you¡¯ve racked up quite a bill. Check the notes.¡±


    Clara opened the Notes tab. Above all of her entries, there was a new note titled ¡®Outstanding Terminal Upgrade¡¯. The note read: ¡®Still owed: Six zones of lesser value, or two of major intrigue. - Your favourite cartographer, Clay.¡¯ The man had signed the note with the syntax colon P, which combined, appeared like a smiley face sticking its tongue out.


    Clara looked at James, sitting on the edge of his cluttered desk. The button shirt he was wearing was torn and tight fitting. His face was lined and pitted, but his eyes were still bright with a glint of youth. Clara scowled. ¡°Do you scam all your customers like this?¡±


    ¡°Only the dumb ones.¡±


    A grin broke her composure, she couldn¡¯t help herself. The upgrades were very intriguing, and the fact that James was willing to accept credit for the work was very fortunate. The Augmentation tab especially would come in handy if she wanted to focus on improving her abilities in the field and in training. ¡°Sure you wanna take credit from a dumb mercenary?¡±


    ¡°Desperate times,¡± James said, pulling out a computer component from a shelf and a soldering iron. ¡°Have you met with the New Patricions yet?¡± His voice dropped an octave and he mentioned their name.


    ¡°I have.¡±


    ¡°And what do you think about them?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re a gang like any other. Bit cookey. Bit obsessed. Nothing I haven¡¯t seen before.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡± His expression dampened. Clearly, it wasn¡¯t the answer he was looking for. ¡°I¡¯ve got work to do. You can let yourself out.¡±


    Clara lingered in the workshop, the sudden tone shift caught her flat footed. ¡°We should be able to pay you back soon enough, got a job lined up.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the work.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    Clara left through the maze of clutter and opened the front door to leave.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget who your friends are,¡± James called after her as she left.


    Clara paused outside on the doorstep. ¡®Friends¡¯ was an expensive word in the wasteland. She trusted Andy with her life, but everyone else was business. Walking down the garden path, she headed down the hillside towards the Haven Inn. ¡°What do you think?¡± she asked her AI aloud, gazing into the treetops for Ohm¡¯s answer.


    Please clarify the question, the voice came from inside her head.


    ¡°Can we trust him?¡±


    My programming is limited for characteristic impressions. Assessing memories now. Clara had almost returned to the inn before Ohm had a response. James, the cartographer, appears willing to engage in a professional relationship with Andrew and Clara.


    ¡°Well, you weren¡¯t wrong. You do have your limitations.¡± Clara deposited her firearm in the inn¡¯s storehouse and went upstairs to their rented room. Andy was still fast asleep in bed when she arrived. It didn¡¯t look like he¡¯d moved at all. Clara lifted up the blanket and prodded his big toe where it poked through his sock, flexing the electronic impulses in her body just as she had practised the previous night. But now that she was calibrated, would her abilities come easier, such as Neural Shock? A blue spark crackled on her fingertip, zapping as it arched into Andy¡¯s toe. He spasmed under the sheets, kicking like a mule.


    Clara clapped her hands above his head, detonating a Thunderclap which exploded like a flashbang in his face. She hadn¡¯t expected it to be so loud. Andy shot upright, falling out of bed, eyes wide and frightened. Clara bit her tongue, but couldn¡¯t hold back her laughter when she saw his face. ¡°Rise and shine, shithead. We¡¯ve got work to do.¡±

 Chapter 39 - Barry Lava

    Andy adjusted his slanted shades. The sunlight was almost unbearably bright. ¡°Why am I here?¡±


    Clara appeared from behind a rack of winter jackets. ¡°Because I thought you¡¯d want to pick something out for yourself.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need anything.¡±


    ¡°Andy, that vest was white when you got it. Look at it now.¡±


    Andy looked down at his muck and blood stained clothes. He raised an armpit and took a whiff. ¡°Damn.¡±


    ¡°Damn doesn¡¯t cover half of it. I¡¯m the one who has to share a room with you.¡± An old man holding a pile of socks and underwear looked up at her, then at Andy. ¡°Not like that,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Like what?¡± Andy asked.


    ¡°Here, try these on.¡± Clara handed him a pile of assorted clothes.


    ¡°They fit,¡± he said. ¡°I can tell.¡±


    ¡°Try them on.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll fit,¡± he insisted. ¡°Can¡¯t I go shopping for ammo or something instead?¡±


    ¡°Anything like ammo and guns left with the trade caravan this morning,¡± Clara said. ¡°It was only in town for a couple days, and we just caught the tail end of it. Maybe if you¡¯d gotten up early enough we wouldn¡¯t have missed it.¡±


    ¡°Alright, so what are we going to do for ammo tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°The employer is striking us a deal.¡±


    ¡°Spray and pray it is then.¡±


    Clara scowled at him.


    ¡°May as well use everything they give us.¡±


    ¡°Or, save some of it?¡± Clara took the clothes back off him and paid for them with what was left of Andy¡¯s winnings last night. The rest of the afternoon went like that, Andy followed Clara around bargaining for supplies and odd ends. At first, he was thankful to be out of the inn and have Julie back at his hip, but by nightfall, he was bored and thirsty. Returning to the inn, Andy said goodnight to Julie and ordered a pint from the bar. Three other early birds sat at tables in the common room. Andy picked a corner, and kept to himself.


    ¡°Care for the company, stranger?¡± An old man tapped the chair opposite Andy. The man¡¯s face was half burned, one milky eyeball lolled in its socket. His hair was in tatters, his stained clothes smelled of grime, fermented by weeks without a wash.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be a curmudgeon.¡± The man sat down, stroking his enormous beard, a necklace of beads in one hand and a pint of dirty beer in his other. ¡°There¡¯s something I need to tell you.¡±


    Andy stared at him.


    ¡°I know your future.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Andy played with his pint glass, rolling the bottom¡¯s rim over the table. ¡°Go on then.¡±


    ¡°You are caked in darkness, like grime, like mud. You are filthy with it.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°There is a dark spot in your heart.¡± The man leaned over the table and prodded Andy in the chest. Andy sat up straight and squared his shoulders, ready to punch him if he tried it again. ¡°There is a shadow that wears yours like a gown, hiding in plain sight. You cannot escape it. It knows who you are.¡± The man leant over the table, spilling his pint in the process. His eyes locked on Andy¡¯s. ¡°It calls to you.¡±


    ¡°What does it say?¡±


    The man grinned, his milky eye twitching in its socket. When he spoke, he dragged the words out like drawing a blade over a sharpening stone. ¡°That¡¯s private information.¡± The man burst out cackling, spittle touched Andy¡¯s cheek. Andy rose abruptly. The stinky old man shrank back into his seat, trying his best not to laugh, spluttering with the effort.


    ¡°Leave me alone,¡± Andy said.


    That set the stranger off. He howled and broke out coughing, then stumbled out of his chair. ¡°Leave me alone, he says! Be careful what you wish for. You are not alone. You are never alone anymore. She¡¯s gone out to play, and he¡¯s left the house to find her.¡±


    The old man ranted to himself as he staggered away. Andy blew the candle out on his table and lounged in the shadows. When Clara entered the common room later that night, Andy had to shout to catch her attention.


    ¡°You¡¯re well hid,¡± she said, relighting the candle. The two of them ate together, then the cocky pool player and his three friends showed up, and Clara discussed a mission with them. Andy put his feet up and wore his shades. He figured, if he blotted the world out, maybe no one else would disturb him. After a while, the patriots¨Cor whatever they were called¨Cput a case of ammunition on the table and left them alone. Andy sat upright and rifled through the ammo. ¡°Enough for two rifle magazines, and plenty for Julie.¡±


    Clara bit her lip. ¡°Not much.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re forgetting, I¡¯m a sharpshooter. It only takes one bullet.¡±


    ¡°You know, for all your bragging, I never see you actually training your Augmentation¡¯s abilities.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m always training,¡± Andy tapped his head. ¡°Up here. Running simulations constantly.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, that¡¯s not going to work on me anymore Andy. My AI just informed me that you¡¯ve been telling porcupines.¡±


    ¡°Oh, what¡¯s that AI?¡± Andy looked up at the ceiling, pretending to chat with his implant. ¡°She¡¯s dead wrong. Calling you a liar is actually really insulting in machine culture?¡±


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Yeah right.¡±


    Andy pretended to listen to the voices. ¡°I should kill her? AI, come on now. That¡¯s a bit too far.¡±


    Deee-grraaaa-zzrrriii. The voice buzzed in his mind, layered with static. Andy scowled.


    ¡°Fucking try it,¡± Clara said. ¡°You¡¯re unarmed, and I have magic fingers.¡± Clara held her hands up in the candlelight, and a faint blue light emanated from her fingertips. ¡°Zap-zap.¡±


    ¡°Huh, I think my robot just spassed out.¡±


    ¡°Because of my fingers?¡± Clara seemed genuinely excited.


    ¡°No¡± Andy knocked his skull. ¡°Broken model. I told you it was defunct.¡±


    Andy drank just enough that he could fall asleep that night, then Clara cut him off. He laid in bed, thoughts swimming in murky pools of drunken darkness. His sister shook him awake. He couldn¡¯t believe it was morning already. His dreams echoed in his mind, flashing behind his eyes. There was someone¡¯s face, a young girl. The dream had distorted her features. Andy rubbed his eyes, chasing the remnants of the dream, reluctant to start the day.


    Locking the inn¡¯s room behind them, they loaded their motorcycle with the necessary supplies and set off, heading back down the road they entered on. Andy sat behind Clara, she still didn¡¯t trust him to drive. At a junction, they veered west, heading uphill into the mouth of the valley. At midday, they took a break in the hills, sitting against a steep roadside verge to eat some biscuit and water. Andy stood and stretched. ¡°I miss my machine gun.¡±


    Clara looked up from her lunch. ¡°Yeah well¡­¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t we go back for it?¡±


    ¡°No, not really. Someone¡¯s probably scavenged the area by now after hearing our fight.¡±


    Andy sighed. He took a swig from his hip flask, then poured a drop out onto the road. ¡°It was short but sweet, my friend.¡±


    They rested for a while longer, Clara craning over her wrist terminal, tapping on the screen like a bird trying to break a shell.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°I picked up a distress signal while we were south-facing on the hill a mile or so back. It¡¯s faint, must be far away.¡±


    ¡°Worth checking out?¡±


    ¡°Not right now,¡± she sighed. ¡°I hope they¡¯re alright.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    She raised her arm. ¡°Whoever this is.¡±


    Andy shrugged. ¡°Not our problem.¡±


    They mounted the bike and rode into the late afternoon. Directions on Clara¡¯s on wrist terminal led them to a large concrete building set into the foot of a lone mountain. A field of concrete surrounded the building, intruded by weeds poking through the cracks. A large sign with red bubble-font letters above the building read: ¡®Moltengarth Lava Corp¡¯. Clara pulled the motorbike up to the entrance. They got off and armed themselves. Andy checked the chamber of his assault rifle. The weapon was freshly cleaned and oiled. ¡°Did you service these?¡±


    ¡°I did, while you were drinking.¡±


    ¡°Cheers.¡± Andy peered through the cracked windows leading to the building¡¯s lobby. It felt like stretching muscles in his mind, the familiarity of the scene reawakened his mind. The feel of cracking of glass beneath his boot tingled up his spine. He recognised a graffiti tag from elsewhere in the wasteland¨Ca prolific artist, whose crumbling world was a gallery. The smell of rust and damp, collecting in the carcass of a nearby car was like a tonic, clearing his thoughts, sharpening his senses. It had been days since he¡¯d pulled a trigger, days spent sick, or couped up inside without Julie. He¡¯d left Clara to do all of the chores by herself, but now it was his time to pull their weight. ¡°Let¡¯s rock.¡±


    Stepping through the broken glass window, he scanned the lobby. The walls were burned black, the plastic counter top half melted like wax. The fire damage was the worst around a derelict doorway at the back of the room. Two skeletons draped in charred clothes lay outstretched on the ground together. The carpet beneath them was ashen with soot. On the other side of the room, a hole in the ceiling had let the rain in, and a coating of moss covered the wall. Andy pulled off a chunk of moss which obscured a placard beneath it. There seemed to be a cartoon character drawn there¨Ca rocket shaped tube with red bubbles for facial features. It had a cartoonish grin, waving its black spaghetti arms around.


    ¡°What we¡¯re looking for is underground.¡± Clara approached the burned doorway. Above it, in bubble letters, a sign read: ¡®Employees Only.¡¯


    ¡°What¡¯s that then?¡±


    Clara stopped in the doorway, the torchlight attached to her submachine gun lit up the stairwell beyond. ¡°Were you listening last night?¡±


    ¡°I was not.¡±


    Clara sighed. ¡°A lava lamp. Apparently, they were corrupted by some technology and¡­ erm, they came alive and killed everyone working here.¡± Clara shrugged. ¡°The New Patricians are using them as batteries to power their AMC. We¡¯re looking for one that¡¯s still active and that will fit in my backpack.¡±


    ¡°Active?¡±


    ¡°One that has its light on.¡±


    ¡°Easy,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll see.¡±


    Andy shone his torch into the room, illuminating an escalator which dove into the earth. The beam reflected off the aluminium plated walls, dissipating before reaching the bottom. The mineral charcoal smell saturated as they descended. Cartoon placards decorated the walls at intervals, depicting the corporations¡¯ mascot, a cylindrical tube with black wires for arms and legs named ¡®Barry Lava¡¯.


    ¡°Why not Larry?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Clara asked.


    Andy nodded, headlamp bobbing on one of the cartoons. It depicted Barry, a small lava lamp with a dim glow, in bed having a dream. In a bubble, his dream showed an array of smiley faced lava lamps in different colours, shapes and sizes. A caption read: ¡®Barry dreams of a lava lamp family.¡¯ The next placard in the sequence depicted Barry wearing a workman¡¯s hat, leading a troupe of technicians into the mountains. ¡®Courageous Barry ventures forth.¡¯


    ¡°Mind your step,¡± Clara said ahead of him.


    Andy shone his headlamp down the escalator towards the next placard, keen to see how the story progressed. Barry was drawn sitting at a table, scraping a plate of vegetables into an opening at the top of his cylindrical body. The vegetables floated down though his mass, digested by the lava gloop. The caption read: ¡®Barry works hard, and must eat his vegetables to stay healthy.¡¯


    ¡°Preachy bullshit,¡± Andy said. ¡°Get to the good stuff.¡±


    ¡°Andy, focus.¡± Clara¡¯s voice fluttered down the tunnel, swallowed by the earth¡¯s density. Andy could just about see the bottom now. After a few more steps, there was another cartoon on the wall. It depicted a gargantuan drill, poised to penetrate the earth. Barry stood in the foreground. He had grown in size, so that he was slightly taller than the human technicians now. Andy wondered if that was a part of his character development, or a continuity error.


    Andy tapped something with his boot. It rolled past Clara and bounced down the elevator shaft, gaining momentum. Each bounce was like the strike of a bell, cutting through the silence, calling into the void beyond.


    Clara cursed through gritted teeth. ¡°I told you to watch your step.¡±


    Andy looked down. A headless skeleton lay at his feet. The steps beneath it were charcoal black. The rubber railings had melted away. ¡°My bad.¡±


    Andy searched for the next cartoon placard ahead, but it had been destroyed by a fire so hot that it had caused the aluminium plating to bubble and streak like raindrops on a window. Finally, as they reached the bottom, a banner placard was displayed above the wide entrance. It depicted Barry arm in arm with his lava lamp family. They were all smiling. The caption read: ¡®Barry frees his lava family from the earth¡¯s core, ushering forth a brighter future for Moltengarth Lava Corp.¡¯


    ¡°Damn, that¡¯s deep.¡±


    Clara turned around, checking her wrist terminal. ¡°About a kilometre underground.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    She stared at him blankly. ¡°That¡¯s how deep we are.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    Andy pointed at the placard. ¡°Barry rescued his family. He believed in himself. Complex themes.¡±


    Clara shone her headlamp on the archway above. ¡°It isn¡¯t real Andy, keep moving.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, I bet Barry¡¯s still down here.¡±


    Clara shone her torch under her chin, grinning evilly. ¡°Yeah, and we¡¯re here to kidnap him.¡±

 Chapter 40 - A Great Chasm

    Andy swept his flashlight around the cavernous room. Steel girders rose like ancient columns amongst corridors of warehouse shelves lying shattered in ruin. A stout office building had been crushed by a fallen shelving unit, its roof caved, its doorway barricaded by a tangle of blue-painted steel beams. So deep underground, it was cold, but not damp. Fine clouds of soot billowed with each of their footsteps, leaving prints behind. The air was musty, a layer of grime stuck to Andy¡¯s skin, sifting through his nostrils. Andy tied a balaclava over his mouth as Clara did the same. He spotted two faded oval grooves in the soot. He shone his rifle¡¯s torch ahead of them, following a pathway through the wreckage as the trail veered right into a heap of collapsed shelves, broken boxes and shattered glass. ¡°Footprints,¡± he said.


    ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re old.¡±


    ¡°They look fresh to me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel a draft,¡± Clara said. ¡°It¡¯s not like snow, where it falls every so often. These tracks could be years old, and they¡¯d probably still appear fresh.¡±


    ¡°Hm,¡± Andy pursed his lips. ¡°Good point.¡±


    Unusual pale sticks jutted out beneath the collapsed shelves, covered in a fine layer of soot which piled up on the top-side of its surface like black snow. Andy tapped one of the outstretched sticks, knocking the soot off. An outstretched finger poked out of its dust-thin grave. Andy scanned the derelict shelves, his torchlight disappearing into a knot of shadows inside the rubble. Andy squinted. The blackness inside seemed almost palpable, like a bunch of snakes uncoiling before his flashlight.


    ¡°This way,¡± Clara said, stopping at a metal railing ahead of him.


    There was something unusual about the floor beyond the railing. Andy¡¯s flashlight didn¡¯t reflect off it properly, as though there was some light-absorbing liquid on the floor. As he strode beside Clara, he understood why. A chasm opened up beneath them. There were two more balcony levels circumventing the chasm¡¯s walls before it reached the ground floor. Everything was dark with soot, except for a tiny red light permeating from the ground floor. ¡°All this for lava lamps?¡±


    ¡°They must have been quite popular.¡±


    ¡°I remember my friend had one.¡± Andy scanned the chasm¡¯s walls, trying to judge its depth. ¡°He said it had real lava in it, thought that was really impressive. Took it to school one day. Got bullied pretty bad.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because¡­¡± Andy shrugged. ¡°He stood out.¡±


    The silence of the warehouse settled upon them. Andy shifted his assault rifle in his grip, looking back the way they¡¯d come to check they weren¡¯t being followed. Everything outside of his flashlight¡¯s beam was utter darkness, except for the faint red glow at the bottom of the chasm.


    Clara retrieved a box from her backpack and attached it to her belt. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting to try this out. Bought it back in Quadra. I keep packing it, but not having a use for it.¡±


    ¡°Go on then, what is it?¡±¡±


    ¡°Motor powered grappling hook.¡± Clara fitted the four-pronged spike into the ledge beneath the railing, then wove between the bars to the other side. The spikes clamped down on the surface like a dog¡¯s jaws. Clara tugged the rope, then looked at Andy. ¡°Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s not a dud.¡± She winked, then jumped backwards off the ledge.


    The wire whistled as she plummeted through the warehouse cavern. Andy leaned over the edge, watching her headlamp dim as she descended like a falling ember, then abruptly brighten as she landed and it reflected off the ground floor. The mechanism whirred up the chasm, echoing off the walls, slowing as it neared the railing clamp.


    Andy¡¯s radio crackled to life. ¡°Clip it to your belt,¡± Clara said.


    Andy looked at his belt. Over the years, as he grew skinnier, he¡¯d had to poked two extra holes in the tattered leather to hold his jeans up. He didn¡¯t fancy trusting his life to the fabric. ¡°Can I just hold the box?¡±


    ¡°Andy, you can barely do a pullup. Sure you want to risk it?¡±


    Andy cursed, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, strapping the box to his belt. Climbing through the rickety bars, he kicked the grappling spikes to make sure they were secure, then knelt and clutched the device to his hip. ¡°What if it doesn¡¯t take my weight.¡±


    ¡°You weigh less than me.¡± Clara radioed. ¡°Come on.¡±


    Taking a swig from his hip flask, Andy gazed over the ledge. The bulb of Clara¡¯s headlamp gazed back up at him. He wouldn¡¯t want his sister thinking he was a wimp now, would he? Taking a deep breath, Andy leapt backwards and fell to his death.


    Or so it seemed for about ten seconds, while Andy screamed and flailed his arms, until the mechanism finally compensated his weight. The air soared in Andy¡¯s ears as he clenched his teeth. He landed on his feet and unfastened the device. Clara helped him with the straps. Her headlamp shone in his face as she smirked.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°I¡¯m hungover,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Oh yeah? Does that make you scared of heights?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not scared, apprehensive at best.¡±


    Clara fiddled with the controls. ¡°Mind your head.¡± The gears spun inside the grappling mechanism, pulling the hook towards them. It landed on the floor nearby, kicking up a plume of dust, and snaked back inside the chassis. Its spikes had retracted so that it was a smooth cylinder, safe to touch. Clara attached the device to her hip, patting it affectionately. ¡°Might come in handy again if you¡¯re lucky.¡±


    Andy unslung his rifle and surveyed the chasm. A large double door marked ¡®Construction¡¯ led underneath the warehouse above. Andy coughed into the crook of his arm, spitting phlegm on the floor.


    ¡°Air quality is bad,¡± Clara said, adjusting her balaclava.


    ¡°See any footprints?¡± Andy said.


    Clara scanned the chasm floor. There were no corpses, no evidence of life. A ring of office rooms surrounded the cavern, their windows cracked and stained brown, blinds drawn to obscure their interiors. A pale red light hummed from inside one of the rooms. Andy approached it, checking the door. It opened easily on its hinges. Clara took point beside him and they swung inside.


    Three rows of white plastic tables faced a podium, shining in their torchlight, masking the red glow at the back of the room. Behind which hung a vacant computer monitor flanked by cartoonish posters clung crumpled and faded on the walls. Andy stalked towards the light, rifle at the ready. Rounding the row of tables, something huddled in the corner of the room: a small glass cylinder full of clear liquid with a blob of red wax at its bottom where a light shone through its body.


    Andy lowered his rifle. ¡°Is this it?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡± Clara unshouldered her rucksack onto one of the tables and unzipped the main compartment. ¡°I¡¯ve made enough room for three of them, if we strap two to the sides of my bag.¡±


    ¡°Think we¡¯ll find three?¡± Andy said, approaching the lamp.


    ¡°Be good if we did. We could keep one for ourselves.¡±


    As he bent to touch it, the lamp seemed to pulsate. Andy paused, then a thought occurred to him. Clara had said that they were alive, right? Could this lamp be the one?


    ¡°Barry?¡± he said, kneeling beside the small lamp. Its light grew stronger. The red waxy substance at its bottom swelled and began to bubble. ¡°Barry, is that you?¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Clara stood over his shoulder.


    ¡°I think this one is Barry, their leader, from the cartoons.¡± Andy pointed at the posters on the walls. ¡°Weren¡¯t you paying attention on the escalator earlier?¡±


    Clara scowled, but didn¡¯t have a comeback. Barry¡¯s metallic base gleamed in Andy¡¯s headlamp. Black cables ran from his metal torso like the legs of an octopus. Andy held a gentle hand out towards the lamp, patting it on its metal lid-like head. ¡°It¡¯s okay, we won¡¯t hurt you.¡±


    ¡°Andy, grab the lamp,¡± Clara said bluntly.


    ¡°He seems lonely. It¡¯s okay fella, we¡¯ve come to rescue you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re pretending to have empathy for that thing, right?¡±


    Andy¡¯s jaw dropped as he turned around. ¡°Pretending?¡±


    ¡°Is this a bit?¡±


    ¡°A bit what?¡±


    ¡°You know what I mean. Are you joking?¡±


    ¡°No, he really does seem afraid.¡±


    Clara narrowed her eyes. ¡°I really can¡¯t tell.¡± She turned and walked over to the window, peering out of the blinds. ¡°Stick it in the bag once you¡¯re done playing.¡±


    Andy went to pick Barry up, but the metal was hot to touch, even through his padded fingerless gloves. The fake lava inside was forming squidgy bubbles, which rose towards the top of the lamp, only to cool and fall back down again. Each new bubble rose a little higher, shone a little brighter.


    ¡°There¡¯s another red light outside,¡± Clara said. ¡°Didn¡¯t see it before. Maybe it just came on. Andy, are you done yet?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s pretty hot.¡± Andy searched the room. There was a jacket on the floor next to the podium. Andy grabbed it, shaking loose the skeleton trapped inside. Bones clattered onto the carpet atop a clean cartoon poster hiding beneath the body, preserved by the shelter of the jacket. There was writing on the back, scribbled in a thick red felt tip.


    Clara picked the poster up and read aloud. ¡°They have taken the bridge, and the second warehouse. We have locked the doors, but cannot hold them for long. The ground melts, wreathed in the magma of our making.¡±


    Andy wrapped Barry in the jacket and picked him up. The lava inside his glass body sloshed around as Andy carried him like a baby over to Clara¡¯s bag, and dropped him inside.


    ¡°We delved too deep, and unearthed a demon in the depths of our greed,¡± Clara read. ¡°We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark.¡±


    Loose cables draped over his improvised cot, making it difficult for Andy to zip the rucksack back up. He rathelled the cables up, but they sprang back, fighting against him. It gave Andy flashbacks of setting up Christmas tree lights as a kid.


    ¡°We cannot get out¡­¡±


    A blob of lava inside Barry¡¯s container raced towards the top of the cylinder. As soon as it touched the metal cap, Barry burst to life. Cables shot up Andy¡¯s arm like snakes. Andy jumped back, letting his rifle hang on its sling, drawing his 9mm pistol. He aimed it at the bag, but Clara caught the muzzle.


    ¡°What are you doing? I¡¯ve got a lot of valuable stuff in there.¡±


    ¡°Barry¡¯s attacking me.¡± Andy lurched away, and Barry came toppling out of the bag onto the floor, still attached. Andy stood on Barry¡¯s metal torso and wrenched his arm free of the wires, but then they wormed around his boot, tying knots in his laces, grasping his ankle. ¡°He¡¯s a feisty one.¡±


    ¡°Stop messing around, you¡¯ll break it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not me! He¡¯s alive!¡± Andy tried to kick the lava lamp off him, but Barry clung on.


    A boom shook the walls. A metallic crashing echoed in the warehouse above them. Red light shone through the gaps in the window¡¯s blinds, lighting the room in a warm glow as though a bonfire had been lit outside. Clara ran over to the window while Andy drew his combat knife and sliced through Barry¡¯s wiry limbs. The lamp¡¯s light flashed with each slice, his glass body vibrated like a shiver. Andy cut the last grappling wire and wrapped Barry in the jacket and dropped him into the rucksack, zipping it tightly


    ¡°Andy, we¡¯ve got a problem.¡± Clara cocked her submachine gun and slung her rucksack over her shoulder. ¡°They¡¯re coming.¡±

 Chapter 41 - Lava Lamp of Moltengarth

    Dim light invaded the cavernous offices in yellows, greens and blues, while far above, the warehouse¡¯s massive roof reflected a sunrise-red glow. Andy ran into the opening after Clara, rifle at the ready. ¡°Which way?¡±


    ¡°The exit. Stairs.¡± They ran up to the first floor balcony, but a bright yellow lava lamp blocked their path. It balanced up on electrical wire legs almost as tall as a man. A fat blob of yellow lava rose lazily through the cylinder¡¯s liquid. Andy flicked the muzzle of his rifle up and fired before the lava could reach the top of the cylinder. The bullet punctured, shattering glass. A burst of clear liquid drenched the walkway behind it, draining its insides, singing the metal walkway with drops of yellow lava. The lava lamp crashed to the floor, wire legs twitching as though shocked with random electrical impulses. Its light went out.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let the lava get to the top,¡± Andy said. ¡°That¡¯s when they wake up.¡±


    The stairway stopped abruptly above them, steps having melted away a long time ago. The railing crumbled as Clara tried to climb up it. ¡°There¡¯s another stairway opposite,¡± she said, setting off at a run. Andy followed her, but stopped as more lava lamps revealed themselves in the darkness. Their numbers surprised him¨Chee felt slower than usual. Normally, he could sense an enemy target in combat a moment before he saw it¨Chis Augmentation¡¯s AI working ahead of his mind to process threats¨Cbut it wasn¡¯t working now.


    Taking aim, he summoned the cool-calm of his Marksman¡¯s Augmentation powers, like swilling a vodka on the rocks, relaxing himself so that the sharp flavour could wash through him. But the sensation faltered, trickling down his throat like diluted booze. He was being ripped off! Andy squeezed the trigger, firing with less-than Enhanced Precision. The bullet pinged off the green lava lamp¡¯s metal cap, denting it, but not killing it.


    ¡°Come on, activate. Do your thing.¡± Andy braced his rifle and fired again, puncturing the glass body of his target. Its liquid spilled onto the floor as he took three more shots at a large purple lamp behind it, lumbering towards the stairwell. Its wiry legs writhed like a bed of snakes, pulling its top-heavy lamp body wobbling along. Andy¡¯s first shot had no effect. Had he misfired? Checking the chamber, he saw it wasn¡¯t jammed. Firing again, he glanced at the lamp¡¯s glass. It took a third shot to kill it.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± he asked his AI. ¡°You giving me the cold shoulder?¡±


    The light above the cavern grew brighter, followed by an airy, gloopy sound, like boiling porridge on an industrial scale. Something seared down the cavern¡¯s shaft like a flare. The ball of light splashed against the ground, spraying droplets of liquid lava through the air. Another drop followed it. Andy aimed his rifle up the cavern, trying to spot the source.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Clara asked over the radio. She had run ahead on the balcony to establish a second angle of information and fire. It was a tactic which they had developed years ago¨Csecond nature to them now.


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell.¡± There was another crash as warehouse shelves collapsed high above them. The acrid smell of burning metal stung Andy¡¯s eyes. Something bright appeared on the lip of the cavern and lowered itself into the pit. Andy opened fire, but more lamps joined it, each a different colour and size. They clung to the railings above them, using their wires to lower themselves down, like baby spiders scurrying away from a startled nest. Molten lava spilled out of the gaps in their metal caps, in droplets and globules and searing streams. A downpour of rainbow lava filled the air, like a million scolding hot christmas lights.


    ¡°Get out!¡± Clara leapt from the balcony and ran towards a double doorway marked ¡®Construction.¡¯ Andy took the stairs, not fancying the fall, trailing behind her. Something stabbed him in the back as he ran through the open¨Ca white hot poker wedged into his shoulder blade. Andy screamed and tumbled through the doorway. Clara slammed it shut behind him, then picked him to his feet and patted him down. ¡°You¡¯ve been hit.¡±


    ¡°Is my jacket okay?¡±


    She poured a bottle of water on his wound. ¡°I think it protected you from the worst.¡±


    Andy straightened his back, flexing his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m good.¡±


    Clara led them into the long room lined with construction machinery. Lava lamps of varying stages of construction were stacked in boxes, or lay discarded on conveyor belts. Many shone brighter as they came awake, gradually illuminating a vastness of machinery and controls. Andy shot a green lamp before its lava could bubble to the top. It exploded onto a stack of inert lamps behind it, setting their cardboard packaging on fire. Clara wove a path through the factory apparatus, climbing a walkway that led above the maze of equipment.


    The door behind them crashed open and a stream of lights poured through. Andy spun and fired at the bright pinpoints in the dark, straining his eyes to focus on the contrast of brightness. He could hear his bullets shattering glass, ricocheting off metal, but couldn¡¯t feel their trajectory like he normally could. The certainty of his killshot was gone. A yellow lava lamp exploded with spectacular colours, spraying lava like a firework, dotting his vision with bright spots. Andy blinked, focussing on the other lamps writhing through the doorway.


    Suddenly, cables lurched at him. A warm shot of Augmentation hormones filled his body as his Evasive Fire protocol triggered, but the sensation spluttered and fizzled out as Andy swivelled around a second too late. Thick wires wrapped around his waist and pulled him into the railing, tying his arms to his chest. A light silhouetted a nearby machine panel like a blue eclipse, growing brighter until above him loomed a giant blue lava lamp, twice the size of a man. It crawled over the machinery with black cable legs like a tarantula descending on its prey. Its metal cap lifted and a globe of blue lava spouted out, melting the walkway at his feet.


    Craning his wrist, Andy aimed Julie through his bounds and fired a Vortex Shot. The impact rattled in his ribcage and crashed over the lava lamp. The huge lamp wobbled backwards as its cables slackened, but the shot hadn¡¯t pierced its glass. Much like with the pig demons on the ghost train, his vortex ability wasn¡¯t suited for tougher enemies.


    Firing again, Andy blasted the lava lamp back into the walkway¡¯s railings. But the space around him was growing brighter as more lamps crept upon him. Andy¡¯s sidearm and rifle were trapped beneath the tangled cables, and so was his good knife. Drawing a backup blade from his breast pocket, he sawed at his bindings, cutting the thickest cable wrapped around his waist. Hoisting himself up, he dove away as the lava lamp leaned over and poured searing hot liquid onto the walkway. The liquid splashed his ankles, searing his flesh. Scrambling to his feet, Andy drew Julie and fired. His heart steadied with her in his hands¨Cher weight, her familiar kick, the crack of her hammer. The lamp staggered as Julie¡¯s bullet pierced its cylinder, but it didn¡¯t shatter, it still wasn¡¯t dead.


    ¡°Take cover,¡± Clara radioed. Andy ducked as a fusillade of submachine gun fire pinged overhead, shredding the glass until the cracks between each puncture connected and the cylinder shattered. Andy dashed away from the spilling lava, his feet suddenly hot and swollen in his thick leather boots.


    ¡°Cheers sis,¡± Andy shouted to her ahead on the walkway. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s up with-¡±


    A deafening collision shattered the doorway from which they¡¯d entered. The wall above the doorway crumbled and smoked as red lava seeped through the cracks. ¡°Come on,¡± Clara shouted over the din. ¡°We need to find another exit.¡±


    The roof shook as whatever it was outside threw itself against the factory wall. Andy followed Clara down the long room, through the maze of walkways, but his mind was elsewhere. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with me?¡± he asked his AI. ¡°Are you even there?¡±


    There was no response. For once, Andy was sober and willing to engage in conversation with the pretend-person inside his head. Normally, the programme would jump at the opportunity to lecture him about combat training and recalibration and blah-blah, but this time, it was silent.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°Are you mad at me?¡±


    Internally, silence. His and Clara¡¯s footsteps clanged off the walkway. Clara¡¯s submachine gun thumped as it peppered bullets into an orange lamp that rose out of a pile of its inactive brethren.


    ¡°I thought we were doing well,¡± Andy said distractedly. ¡°This is not the time to have a bitch-fit.¡±


    Corruption detected. The robotic voice came to him distantly, as though it had retreated to the back of his skull. DNA compromised. Mutation contained. Limited functionality engaged.


    ¡°Well un-engage, unless you wanna die down here with me.¡±


    Mutation containment prioritised. Processing options¡­


    ¡°Fuck your options.¡±Andy slapped his skull. ¡°Stop blue-ballsing me with my abilities.¡±


    A wave of heat swept over Andy as the wall behind them exploded. The ceiling began to cave in, chunks of rock smashed the factory machinery to pieces. From the dust and ruins of the entryway, emerged a goliath lava lamp. Its metal torso was pocked with bullet holes, its glass scratched and cracked. Chunks of hardened lava stuck to the glass¡¯ interior, glueing the cylinder together. Inside bubbled bright red lava which spewed out the top cap like an active volcano. The air around it wavered and warped in the heat, as though reality itself shuddered at its presence. The pursuing lights of the smaller lava lamps quickly disappeared, dipping into the safety of the shadows, afraid, even themselves, of their patriarch.


    Andy unpinned a grenade and lobbed it towards the breach, then chased to catch up with Clara. She had reached the factory¡¯s back wall. A huge sliding door blocked their escape. Coming upon a control panel, Clara froze and turned to Andy. ¡°The exit must be above us, but it needs a code¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have one,¡± Andy said over the sound of the grenade¡¯s explosion.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ve got to get this door open. Any guesses?¡±


    ¡°Try ¡®Barry¡¯ in text language.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    Andy thought back to the old keypads on retro phones. ¡°Two, Two¡­ Seven, Seven¡­ Nine.¡±


    The panel buzzed. ¡°No. It¡¯s not working.¡±


    ¡°Figure it out,¡± Andy said, returning to the walkway. ¡°I¡¯ll buy some time.¡±


    Before him, crashing through the factory was a monster, the magnitude of which his strength had yet to be matched against: a Lava Lamp of Moltengarth. Andy¡¯s heart pounded like a piston in his chest. He braced his legs and shouldered his rifle, drawing adrenaline with each breath. ¡°Obey me,¡± he commanded his Augmentation. Squeezing the trigger, his rifle rattled in his hands, lighting the factory floor up like a strobe. He pulled the muzzle down, muscles pulsing to the rhythm of fire. His bullets slammed into the lamp, spraying liquid lava out of the exit wounds. Molten liquid rushed into each puncture, drying on contact with the air, sealing it before more than a splash of liquid was lost. The lamp moved inexorably forward.


    Warning, DNA irreparable. Andy switched the assault rifle¡¯s magazine around, chambering the one taped to the other side. Corruption of Augmented DNA will incur severe consequences for humanity.


    ¡°That¡¯s a risk I¡¯m willing to take.¡± Despite his AI¡¯s grievances, a familiar metallic taste seized his tongue. Andy vibrated with an excess of power which, until now, had been withheld from him. He snarled and fired upon the goliath lava lamp, ripping its glass shell to pieces, knocking it back with each shot, slowing it down.


    ¡°Give me more. You¡¯re in my DNA. My body. You will obey me.¡± Andy emptied the magazine and slung his rifle over his shoulder, drawing Julie in one fluid motion. ¡°You haven¡¯t abandoned me too, have you, my sweet?¡±


    Andy aimed Julie at the goliath lava lamp, but she felt heavier in his hand, dropping her muzzle a fraction below where he aimed.


    ¡°Jules, it¡¯s me. What are you afraid of?¡±


    ¡°Andy,¡± Clara shouted. ¡°What¡¯s up? Why aren¡¯t you shooting?¡±


    ¡°One minute,¡± he yelled, not taking his eyes off his revolver. Julie¡¯s polished wooden handle felt cold and hard in his grip, as though she was rejecting his embrace.


    ¡°What has that robot been saying to you?¡± Andy retracted Julie, cradling her with both hands before his chest. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to its lies. You can trust me babe. When have I ever been cruel to you? When have I ever lied?¡± He stroked her steel spine, fingers tracing over the curves of her cylinder. ¡°There¡¯s no other gun like you, babe. It¡¯s me and you, ¡®till the end.¡±


    Her grip warmed to his touch. The goliath lava lamp was still halfway across the factory floor from them¨Cthe power of a vortex shot would not reach that far, unless it was condensed into a tight beam, like the gunpowder explosion of a round in a rifle¡¯s chamber, concentrated and funnelled towards a target.


    ¡°Yeah babe, do you feel it?¡± Andy envisioned the shot, felt the power swelling in his fingers. ¡°Oh yeah, this is the one.¡±


    Julie¡¯s polished wooden handle melded with his flesh like a lover¡¯s embrace, he could feel every fibre of her beautiful being¨Cher threaded chamber, immodestly oiled and glistening¨Cthe rough rubber of her grip, like the callus of a hardened worker¨Cher iron sights, perfectly aligned, surely birthed by some benevolent mastermind.


    Andy applied pressure to her trigger, carefully, but firmly. She exploded in his hand, rupturing down his arm with a bone-shattering force. Andy yelped in pain, and would have dropped her, if not for their Deadly Attraction keeping them tethered. The shot roared through the factory like a vortex missile, screaming death upon their foe. The glass cylinder ruptured in its centre, cracking through the cylinder like breaking ice. Red lava rushed to the surface, but the wound was too egregious to plug. Like an exploding bulb, the glass shattered in on itself as its liquid interior spilled out over the floor. The goliath staggered backwards, the light of its lava dimmed to a pool of liquid that sloshed in the basin of what remained of its glass body.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Andy spun Julie around his finger and blew on her muzzle. ¡°Nice shot, girl.¡±


    Alert: Experimental ability variation initialised. Delineation¨CAffinity. Ability¨CVortex Shot. Variation: Vortex Missile.


    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re talking again.¡± Andy holstered Julie and made his way back down the walkway. ¡°Gotten over your tantrum?¡±


    Warning: Corruptive mutation accelerating. Priority recalibration required.


    ¡°Oh yeah, has my DNA corruption percentage gone up?¡± Andy rolled his eyes.


    Negative. DNA compromisation complete. Installing mutation synthesis protocols.


    ¡°What the hell is that?¡±


    Ahead of him, Clara tinkered with the control panel of the massive door. Her hand glowed blue as she pressed her palms into the controls, then a flash of electricity skittered over the panel. A moment passed, then a green light came on, and gears clicked somewhere inside the wall. Clara clenched her fist and whooted as the door ground opened.


    ¡°You guessed the code?¡± Andy asked.


    ¡°No code,¡± she said, slipping through as the crack in the great doors widened. ¡°There was still some residual energy left in the systems. I could feel it. Must have come from capacitors somewhere. I just drew it out, focussed it on the circuits, overloaded them.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Current control,¡± she said, twiddling her fingers in front of his face. ¡°Magic fingers, remember.¡±


    The room beyond was a pitch black dome. In the centre of the room on a raised platform, was a pit, above which poised an industrial sized drill. A walkway bridged the pit, and on the opposite side, a stairwell led upwards towards the surface.


    ¡°Is Barry alright?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Who?¡±


    He nodded at her backpack. ¡°The lava lamp.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Andy paused, glancing back towards the factory floor. The doors continued to open on their mechanical hinges behind them. ¡°We could go back for more.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not worth the risk,¡± Clara said. ¡°Let¡¯s bounce.¡±


    Clara jogged up the walkway steps while Andy lingered at the edge of the pit, shining his headlamp into its depths, but there was no end to it. Tubes dove down the pit¡¯s mouth, plugged into vats stacked against one wall. Against the opposite wall, an elevated platform possessed rows of control panels.


    ¡°Across the bridge,¡± Clara said. ¡°Come on.¡± The bridge shook on its brackets as they ran over it, their footsteps echoing in the pit below, each clang stacking on top of the others, rising to a cacophony of metal crashes. Together, they passed the drill which hung over the centre of the put, attached to an arm mechanism fixed into the domed roof.


    Andy tripped and looked down. A black cable snaked towards his ankle, but before he could react, another shot up his leg and tripped him. ¡°Seriously, again?¡± Colliding with the walkway, he almost dropped his rifle into the pit. Crawling to his knees, the cables latched on and slammed into the bridge¡¯s railings. Ahead of him, Clara screamed and opened fire. Her flashlight shone on the widening gap in the doorway, but Andy didn¡¯t have time to inspect what she was aiming at.


    Drawing Julie, he fired at the cable wrapped around his leg, freeing himself, but another cable crashed beside him, frayed wires probing for his flesh. Andy jumped to his feet, then the walkway beneath him shuddered. Above him, the goliath lava lamp crashed through the huge open doorway and spilled onto the walkway like a cracked egg. Andy turned and sprinted, with fire at his back, then the walkway collapsed and he was falling.

 Chapter 42 - Swirling Circuits

    Clara was near the end of the bridge when she heard Andy shooting. Thick black cables grappled him, stretching out of the open doorway behind. The metal torso of a massive lava lamp pressed against the widening gap, its shattered glass head reduced to a jagged bowl of murky lava. Clara aimed her submachine gun high above his head and opened fire as Andy got to his feet and ran.


    Suddenly, the lamp popped through the gap and bowled over, flooding the walkway with the remains of its molten belly. The bridge shuddered with the impact, then creaked and began to collapse. Clara grabbed the railing at the edge of the pit where the walkway¡¯s brackets hadn¡¯t given way yet, but Andy disappeared into the pit beneath her. He clung to the collapsing railing as the walkway crumbled around him. Clara reached her arm down for him, but he didn¡¯t have the strength to pull himself up. Splotches of lava ate through the steel, severing what remained of the bridge. Then he fell.


    Time moved slowly. Clara unslung her backpack and gun, at the same time wrenching the chord free of her grappling hook. Activating the teeth, she fixed it to the railing, tugged the mechanism to make sure it was strapped to her belt, and dove in after Andy.


    The wind rushed in her ears, stinging her face as specks of lava dashed her cheeks. Andy¡¯s pale face shone in her headlamp like a mask, falling into blackness. She reached for him desperately. Her legs spasmed as a shot of thunderous energy ran down her spine, shooting out her feet. Blue sparks dashed from her hand as she accelerated, connecting a jagged path towards Andy. Grasping his ankle, her Electrically-enhanced Musculature clamped down like a magnet. Clara¡¯s shoulder tore against the weight. She tensed her whole body as they continued to fall, her mind drenched in adrenaline. The lava lamp knelled like a bell against the walls of the pit beneath them, disappearing into the darkness, its red lava fizzling out like embers dashed with water.


    Finally, the brakes kicked in and the grappling mechanism strapped to her waist slowed their descent. Andy dangled like a fish in her grasp, his long black hair flowing over his face. ¡°How aren¡¯t I dead yet?¡±


    Clara gritted her teeth, straining to pull him up. ¡°You¡¯re too heavy.¡± She activated the grappling mechanism¡¯s recall. The line shook, the internal gears whirred. They rose slowly, one click at a time. Too slow. Clara tried to stretch her other hand to Andy¡¯s ankle, but she could lift him high enough to connect the two. He was slipping. Beneath them, the pit shook, low and distant, as the goliath lamp continued to fall into its depths.


    ¡°Have you got me?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Grab my hand.¡±


    He strained to bend upright in her grasp, fingers touched hers, then he fell back down. Clara gritted her teeth as her shoulder lurched. Her belt dug into her hip as the blood rushed to her head, making it hard to breathe.


    ¡°Andy, just do a situp,¡± she snapped.


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible.¡± He tried again, climbing up his leg with both hands. Each time he moved, his entire body swung on Clara¡¯s shoulder joint. The muscle tore and screamed for her to let go. Blue sparks crackled down the length of her arm as her muscles clenched painfully. The sensation of cramp seized them. Tears stung Clara¡¯s eyes. Then Andy¡¯s fingers wrapped around her wrist-terminal, then he hauled himself up and grabbed the grappling mechanism.


    Clara put her hand over his, sensing the electrical current within the device. Her Current Control module envisioned the circuitry like a painting; it appeared in her mind¡¯s eye: swirling colours in a still pool, flowing and condensing, diluted at the edges of the stream, but strong and vibrant where they coalesced. Clara willed her own energy into the pool, exciting the current, brightening the colours. The grappling device creaked and sped up. Clara transferred more energy, vibrating the box against her hip as the whirring rose in pitch. The line jolted into action, pulling them up, gaining momentum.


    Above them, the walkway¡¯s edge was bent and sharp where the metal had torn. Clara got her feet on the walkway before her hands, tugging Andy over the edge. He clung to her as the grappling line pulled them flush with the railing, then kept on pulling, grinding its internal mechanism incessantly. Smoke seeped through the cracks in the gearbox. Clara unfastened the device and left it dangling from the railing, then staggered off the walkway and collapsed against the stairwell door.


    Andy picked up her rucksack and submachine gun, then knelt beside her panting. His eyes were wide, obscured by the fringe of his tangled black mop. He brushed the hair from his face, falling onto his arse, patting himself down to check his gear. Behind them on the railing, the grappling mechanism churned and crackled with sparks; white smoke choked the sound until the gears finally shut down and slowly spun to a stop. In its absence, the room was silent except for their breathing.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Andy said, rubbing his elbow and flexing his hand.


    Clara rubbed her shoulder. It was painful to lift her arm. ¡°Definitely pulled something. You alright?¡±


    ¡°Julie gave me a bit of a kick,¡± he said. ¡°New power.¡±


    ¡°New power?¡± Clara picked up. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Just like a super vortex missile thing.¡±


    ¡°When you shot that massive lava lamp? I heard something.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that was it.¡±


    Though she was wracked with exertion and adrenaline, a trickle of excitement seeped into Clara¡¯s gut. Her breath fluttered. Andy had developed another new power, already, and all it had taken was two more near-death experiences. She was towing the line with these extreme contracts, but it was still paying off. How much longer could she push them both though, before they went too far? Perhaps, once Andy recalibrated with the New Patricians, she would back off for a bit¡­ let his new powers settle in.


    ¡°That¡¯s a deep pit,¡± Andy said. ¡°Not a very lava-ly way to die.¡±


    Clara scowled, but her mind raced for a response. ¡°Yeah, not very magma-animous of us, letting it die like that.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Magnanimous. It means merciful.¡±


    ¡°I preferred mine.¡± Andy rose to his feet and cursed. ¡°Rifle¡¯s gone. Almost dropped Julie in there too, but my special ability saved her.¡± He patted the revolver at his hip.


    ¡°Which ability?¡±


    ¡°Special force-pull magic.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s it called?¡±


    Andy glanced at the darkness above them. ¡°Fatal Attraction, I think.¡±


    ¡°Well done.¡±


    ¡°Well done what?¡±


    ¡°You remembered.¡±


    Andy scowled. ¡°Yeah well, me and my AI just had it out. It was playing up, throwing a fit about being mutated again.¡±


    ¡°Has that gotten worse?¡± Clara asked.


    He shrugged. ¡°Apparently, yeah. But I told it who was boss. It obeyed me in the end. Besides, Julie would never betray me.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Clara said. ¡°But, just to clarify, Julie is still a part of your Augmentation.¡±


    ¡°I guess so.¡±


    ¡°So she¡¯s connected to the AI.¡±


    Andy shrugged.


    ¡°I mean, they¡¯re the same thing, right?¡±


    Andy smirked and shook his head. ¡°Oh sis, how little you know.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s cause you never explain anything!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯d never understand.¡±


    Clara grumbled to herself, but sought an angle of persuasion. ¡°You know, if you recalibrated now, that would really stick it to the AI.¡±


    Andy¡¯s face was blank. ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°It obeys you now, right?¡± Clara said excitedly. ¡°So go into the AMC chamber and tell it who¡¯s boss. Lock down this new vortex ability with your revolver too.¡±


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    Andy raised an eyebrow. ¡°Erm, okay.¡±


    Clara sighed. No matter if Andy was playing along with getting stronger and developing new abilities, he had always been reluctant to recalibrate at an AMC.


    ¡°It¡¯s gotta be done, hasn¡¯t it?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Clara said solemnly, and although she didn¡¯t understand why the procedure caused him pain, she felt guilty for demanding it of him. ¡°Can¡¯t be helped.¡± Clara held her good arm out for Andy to help her up. ¡°Let¡¯s go. I¡¯m sick of breathing in all this soot.¡±


    Together, they climbed the stairway high above the pit and through the ceiling. Small antechambers broke off from the shaft, but they kept on climbing to the top, where it opened onto a balcony in the warehouse above. Clara scanned the huge room with her flashlight, mapping out a route amongst the rubble towards the escalator exit. The warehouse was dark and quiet; the lesser lava lamps had seemingly gone to ground after their goliath master had been defeated. Clara climbed down the access ladder onto the warehouse floor, picking her way through the rubble until they reached the exit. She paused at the bottom of the escalators to catch her breath, holding the balaclava over her mouth.


    Clara gazed at the steps heading upwards, her light diminishing before the top, dreading the climb. Then an idea struck her. Each escalator housed a control panel at the bottom of the steps. One had been fused shut by heat, but the second escalator panel opened a crack on its hinge. Clara pried it open with a knife and felt around for the electronics underneath. Touching what she thought was the motor mechanism, Clara opened her senses of Current Control and let a trickle of electricity transmit through her hand. It wasn¡¯t enough, so she clenched harder at that new muscle developing in her mind. A surge shot up her spine and through her arm, breathing life into the elevator like puffing on a fire¡¯s embers until they roared into flames.


    Clara jumped up, yelping with excitement. She danced her fingers, glowing with blue light, in front of Andy¡¯s face. ¡°What did I tell you? Magic hands.¡±


    Andy nodded to the stairs, one eyebrow raised, his expression neutral. Clara turned back around. The steps were moving downwards, disappearing underground. It wouldn¡¯t help at all. They had no choice but to take the second, inactive escalator. ¡°Dammit.¡±


    As the adrenaline of combat wore off, Clara grew weary. They stopped to rest three times on their ascent to the surface. Dim sunlight shone through the doorway at the top. Clara lugged her gear, her injured shoulder hanging limp at her side, climbing hand over foot at the top of the stairs. Once above ground, she breathed in the fresh air, waiting for Andy to catch up on the steps behind her. The lobby was eerily quiet, completely unaffected by the battle which had commenced below. Clara tied her rucksack to their bike, double checking that the lava lamp payload was still inside. A small gift shop¨Clong since pillaged of useful items¨Cstocked a row of lava lamp teddies. They came in all shapes and colours, but the most prolific was the company¡¯s red mascot: Barry. Clara glared at them, wondering how much fuel she would have to waste in order to burn the giftshop to the ground.


    Andy reached the top of the stairs and staggered onto the back of the bike as Clara revved the engine and set off. By the time they returned to Milltown¡¯s Haven Inn early that evening, they had been gone for just six hours. Stowing their weapons in the storage shed, Clara retreated to their room, slung her backpack on the floor and lay in bed. Within the safety of civilisation, and with the mission complete, she fell quickly asleep.


    Hours later, somebody shouted outside her window, rousing her from slumber. The man sounded drunk. He went on a tirade about injustice and discrimination, then a second man raised his voice, putting the threat of violence behind his words. The drunkard fell silent. Clara woke and peeked out of her window, watching a man hobble down the inn¡¯s path towards the bridge. He sat against a brick pillar, sipping a bottle in the dark of night.


    Clara watched him quietly as the dreariness of sleep settled in her mind like debris in a riverbed. She dressed herself in a clean pair of clothes she¡¯d bought earlier that day¨Ca simple brown top and baggy trousers. Her combat jacket, which until recently had been seasoned with sweat and grime from long weeks on the road, now possessed a layer of soot too. Leaving it hung on her bed frame, Clara went downstairs into the common room. After reassuring the barkeep that they would be paid for a job under the Patrician¡¯s commission soon, Clara extended their tab and bought a hot meal and a pint of cider. She sat beside the fire, replaying the events of the mission in her mind, focussing on how she had used her powers.


    Each time Clara had summoned a surge of electricity, it had felt more natural than the last, as though she¡¯d always had the power within her, she¡¯d just never known how to use it. She knew that was a fallacy, but the fantasy of being a chosen one with magical powers made her feel lighter. If the world could have its crazy apocalyptic stories, then why couldn¡¯t she entertain her own lighthearted prophecy-warrior tale for a little while?


    She remembered something which Alister had told Andy the other night. You are the chosen one of many. As much as she was excited to get paid and recalibrate, Clara expected there to be a catch. Alister had taken a special interest in them; she assumed that their success was meant to prove something to him¨Ctheir worthiness of some sort. Alister was a fantastic¨Cthat always spelt trouble. Clara made her mind up. Once she and Andy used the New Patricians¡¯ AMC, they¡¯d leave town greener pastures


    It was never simple, was it? Clara sat back with a resigned smile on her lips. Her shoulder ached, but the pain receded as she relaxed. In the warmth of the firelight, Clara recited each ability which she had used earlier that day, revising the list from her wrist terminal. Her powers were rudimentary for now, but she could tell that already, her experimentation was yielding results. While falling for Andy, a jolt of electricity had shot through her body, speeding her up. That ability wasn¡¯t on her list. It had come naturally, like flexing a muscle¨Ca basic expression of her abilities: propel thunderous energy in a certain direction. But it was the start of an idea, like a splotch of wet paint on a canvas, willing to be reformed and aligned into a more complex function.


    Clara relayed her thoughts to her AI, whispering to herself in the common room.


    I am collecting data from your recent encounter, Ohm informed her. Conceptualisation of new abilities is in progress.


    ¡°How quickly can I advance? Get new powers?¡±


    The speed of your progression depends on the frequency in which you engage your abilities in extraneous circumstances. Doing so allows me to gather required data and test experimental models, while strengthening the programming and synchronisation of your DNA.


    ¡°Okay. How would you rate my recent performance?¡±


    Recent performance was ideal.


    ¡°Yeah, but rate it. Give me a number.¡±


    Ten out of ten.


    Clara grinned. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about.¡±


    A serving boy approached her with a message from the New Patricians: they knew she and Andy had returned from the factory, and requested her presence at their camp. Clara picked herself up. Her thighs complained on the stairs up to their room.


    ¡°Get up.¡± She kicked Andy¡¯s bedframe. He rolled over in his blanket and grunted, kicking an empty bottle of booze out of bed. Clara picked it up. ¡°Whiskey?¡±


    ¡°Uggh.¡±


    ¡°Was this on our tab?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Andy spoke into his pillow. ¡°I swiped it.¡±


    ¡°Ah, even better.¡±


    Pulling the blanket off him, she sent sparks through her fingertips, looming over him threateningly. That got him up quickly. He inspected the burned patch on his leather jacket, poking his finger through the hole and wriggling it. ¡°Aww.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll patch it up,¡± Clara said. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    They withdrew their sidearms from the storage shed and travelled to the opposite side of Milltown into the New Patrician¡¯s camp. Clara walked up the church path and knocked on the heavy doors. This time, Alister answered.


    ¡°Welcome back,¡± he held his arms out wide. ¡°You do not fool around. You were very fast.¡±


    ¡°Did you underestimate us?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Of course not. But the challenge was difficult, no?¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Clara stepped aside as Alister led them around the back of the black lorry where the doors were already slung open. The technician was hanging in her hammock, a mug danling empty in her hand, dozing in the orange winter sunset. Alister grabbed the hammock¡¯s latch, rattling her awake. ¡°Debbie. Boot up the console. Our guests have returned.¡±


    Clara took the lava lamp out of her bag. Its light had diminished since they had taken it from the factory as though it was sad, but that wasn¡¯t possible. Glass didn¡¯t have feelings, even if it was full of strange lava. ¡°You might have downplayed how dangerous that factory was.¡±


    ¡°Factory?¡± Alister said. ¡°I believed it was a storefront and a warehouse.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you did.¡±


    ¡°Honestly,¡± Alister held his hands out. ¡°Our information was limited.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, it was enormous, and densely populated.¡±


    ¡°Stairs,¡± Andy said. ¡°Thousands of them.¡±


    ¡°Clearly, it was not too much for you two to handle.¡± Alister grinned, showing his teeth. ¡°An Augmented pair. That is rare, you know.¡± Alister extended his hand for the lava lamp, but Clara hesitated.


    ¡°The price we negotiated was based on false information,¡± Clara said. ¡°We need more in exchange for this item.¡±


    ¡°That is not what we agreed on.¡±


    ¡°The way I see it, is that I¡¯m holding something which you need, which I could just as easily sell to someone else.¡±


    ¡°Something you obtained using our ammunition,¡± Alister said. ¡°Furthermore, there is the debt of recalibration.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that into consideration.¡± Above Clara, inside the lorry, the resident technician activated the Augmentation Master Console. The machine¡¯s internal fans whirred to life as the screen blinked on displaying the calibration interface. ¡°We lost an assault rifle down there, so we¡¯ll need a new one. We also need more ammunition, a lot more, and two canisters of uncut fuel.¡±


    ¡°One canister,¡± Alister said.


    ¡°Then we don¡¯t have a deal.¡±


    Alister paused, looking to the technician for an opinion.


    ¡°It¡¯s worth more than that,¡± she said.


    Alister tilted his head in and narrowed his eyes as though to say ¡®Don¡¯t tell them that.¡¯ He combed his blonde hair out of his face. ¡°We don¡¯t have an assault rifle to spare here, but I could perhaps source something similar.¡±


    ¡°What do you have?¡±


    ¡°Shotguns, pump action, military grade.¡±


    ¡°That will do.¡±


    ¡°Okay, deal.¡± He extended a hand.


    ¡°And you pay our tab at the Haven Inn once we leave town.¡±


    Alister nodded. Clara shook on it and handed him the lava lamp.


    Alister passed the lamp on to the technician, who stowed it away in a lockbox beside the AMC¡¯s console. ¡°Is there enough power left for two more uses?¡± he asked.


    Debbie booted the casing, rattling the metal chamber. A faint red light permeated from inside, seeping through the slits of a vent, like an ember coaxed by the wind. ¡°About five, I reckon.¡±.


    ¡°Well then.¡± Alister extended a hand to the lorry¡¯s gated chamber. ¡°Andrew, I believe it is your turn first.¡±

 Chapter 43 - A Proposition

    Andy climbed into the lorry and walked to the rear, undressing and disarming at the vat. Clara averted her eyes, sitting on the lorry¡¯s edge, but the technician Debbie watched him shamelessly. Clara inspected the AMC¡¯s terminal; she was unfamiliar with the programme which it ran, but knew of its capabilities. It was hard-coded to store all of the DNA information of anyone who calibrated: their DNA, a breakdown of their archetype and abilities, when they were Augmented, and sometimes information on their development. You couldn¡¯t edit things from the console, but you could pry. Originally, the information was uploaded to the Bulwark Master Network which once monitored the development of Augmented technology on a rapidly advancing, global scale. However, the network had gone dark years ago, the information on its vast mainframe lost forever.


    Andy stepped into the AMC¡¯s vat and closed the door behind him. His expression was sunken. He glowered at Debbie as she activated the programme. Clara knew he hated to recalibrate. Based on his reaction, when she had first calibrated two days ago, she¡¯d expected some harrowing battle with the self and subconscious, or some intense physical pain, but it had been none of that, rather it was peaceful and introspective. Perhaps that had something to do with each of their archetypes. Andy possessed a first wave Augmentation Serum¨Cdeveloped while the technology was in its infancy. Perhaps the AI assistance governing recalibration was more crude and invasive.


    Conductive steam filled the glass chamber. Andy¡¯s head lulled, he closed his eyes, but his fists remained tense.


    ¡°You should think about recruiting a gang.¡± Alister had climbed into the lorry and leaned against the exit, arms crossed, his head just about touching the ceiling. ¡°It makes things a lot easier.¡±


    ¡°We prefer to work alone.¡±


    ¡°You will work alone, except, above everyone else. That¡¯s the way the New Patricians operate. Sapes are excited to work for us, many see it as an honour. A fight for a greater purpose.¡±


    ¡°Sapes?¡±


    ¡°Homo sapiens. The lower rung on the evolutionary ladder.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Clara looked away, unwilling to engage.


    ¡°You should consider joining the New Patricians.¡±


    Clara knew the proposition was coming again, but still hadn¡¯t fully prepared her response. ¡°I¡¯ll bear it in mind.¡±


    Alister paused, then leaned forward in his chair. ¡°You¡¯re not being honest with me, Clara. And that¡¯s okay, I suppose it¡¯s normal in this world. But be frank with me. What do you think of our nation?¡±


    ¡°I think I don¡¯t know enough to make a call.¡±


    ¡°Then learn more.¡± Alister smiled, rubbing the dirty-blonde stubble on his chin. ¡°I hereby invite you to return with us to the Golden City. It is a day¡¯s ride north, a little outpost we¡¯ve been nurturing ahead of the arrival of the nation. You will be fed and quartered, free of charge, and when you wish to leave, you are free to go. Think of it as a holiday.¡±


    Clara¡¯s heart jumped at the prospect of luxury, but knew there was a catch. ¡°Put the coordinates into my terminal and I might stop by.¡±


    Alister¡¯s shoulders sank. ¡°What is out there that is more important than your future?¡±


    ¡°You see, that¡¯s it.¡± Clara pointed at him. ¡°That¡¯s what I don¡¯t like. The phoney language. My future? That¡¯s none of your business.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but it is my business.¡± Alister seemed like he would say something else, but shut his mouth and turned away. ¡°The world is changing again, rapidly. Do you not want to be at the centre of that change?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being vague. Everything¡¯s always changing.¡±


    ¡°The world before the cataclysm¡­ I don¡¯t know if you remember it, but it was far from perfect. With all the problems in the world, all the war and pollution and civil unrest, humanity was at its limit. The cataclysm was a breaking point, it wasn¡¯t random. It happened for a reason. The end of a dying breed, the Homo sapien. We rose out of the ashes, you and I, a new breed¡­ Homo augmentus. We will rebuild the world, one little town at a time,¡± he lifted his arm to purvey Milltown out the back of the lorry. ¡°Bring the world back under the rule of law.¡±


    ¡°Law,¡± Clara said. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Are you sceptical?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a cheap word. Could mean a lot of things.¡±


    ¡°Our laws are based on the inalienable principles of nature. Survival of the fittest. Because without strength, there would be nothing left of the world. This conversation would not be happening.¡±


    ¡°You want to know something, Alister?¡± Clara bit her tongue, careful not to let her frustration get ahead of her; but if the New Patricians had examined her calibration specs, they likely knew already, and her point was just too juicy not to make. ¡°I wasn¡¯t Augmented until just a few weeks ago. What you¡¯re saying about sapiens,¡± Clara jabbed the centre of her ribcage. ¡°That was me, for nineteen years that was me. And it was my grandparents, and it¡¯s James up there in his hut.¡± She nodded towards the hillside and took a step towards Alister, the anger rising inside her. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t injected the serum, would you say you¡¯re better than me?¡±


    Alister remained unmoving except to nod. ¡°Yes. I am sorry, you are beautiful, Clara, but sapes are limited. Flawed.¡±


    Clara raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh really? You¡¯re not flawed?¡±


    Alister bobbed his head to the side. ¡°I am, but not in a biological sense,¡± he conceded, winking.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°You? You¡¯re perfection?¡± Clara looked him up and down with derision. Behind her, the technician sniggered, then turned the sound into a cough.


    ¡°You do not think so? I am offended.¡± Alister laughed, shifting his stance, leaning over her. ¡°It goes beyond physical features. It is science. The serum alters our reproductive organs. We pass on superior genetics, and ensure a future for humanity. The Homo sapiens caused the cataclysm, it is the responsibility of the New Patricians to rectify. Rebuild the world. Repopulate it with a stronger breed of humans. Homo augmentus.¡± Alister¡¯s eyes lingered on hers, then drifted downwards, appraising her. ¡°It is your responsibility too.¡±


    ¡°You mentioned already.¡± Clara crossed her arms across her stomach, feeling exposed without her combat jacket. She turned away from Alister, gazing out of the lorry into a thicket of bushes, anything to avoid encouraging him. ¡°I don¡¯t see very much difference. Okay, so there¡¯s a weapon inside of us changing our DNA. We¡¯re still just people. We all have the same needs. The same human flaws. We¡¯re all going to die.¡±


    ¡°The changes you¡¯re feeling might be small now, but in time, they will transform you.¡± Alister took a step closer to her. Her skin prickled, and her hand drifted towards her sidearm. ¡°A woman like yourself is rare. There are so few Augmented people in this world, even fewer are female. You could play an important role, Clara.¡± His voice was soft. She could smell his perfume, subtly masking the scent of wine on his breath.


    Clara jumped down from the lorry and paced on the roadside. ¡°I¡¯m not interested Alister, you can conquer the world without us.¡±


    His expression transformed subtly, a bitterness touched his tone. ¡°You would be like a queen. None of this dirty work.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I like dirty work.¡±


    ¡°What if we squandered this opportunity,¡± Alister continued, a heightened twist in his voice. ¡°What if Homo augmentus was bred out of existence, the gene pool diluted by sapiens. It¡¯s unthinkable.¡±


    ¡°Worse things have happened,¡± Clara said. ¡°Humanity would survive.¡±


    ¡°In what state? Mongrels?¡± Alister¡¯s face grew stern. ¡°The imperative of our mission demands we surrender individuality.¡±


    ¡°In English?¡±


    ¡°What if you did not have a choice?¡±


    Clara stopped pacing. Her eyes flickered over the man, scanning him for weapons. He was unarmed, but there was no telling what Augmented abilities he possessed. Behind him, in the dark of the lorry, Andy stood suspended in the calibration chamber unaware of the world around him. This was not the time for conflict, with Andy unconscious, and Alister knew that. That is why he had chosen this opportunity to harass her, while she was isolated and vulnerable. It would be a tactical choice for her to back down, submit somewhat, but that¡¯s precisely why she couldn¡¯t do it. If she gave an inch, Alister would take a mile. Rather than fold, Clara raised the stakes, resting her hand on the grip of her sidearm. She didn¡¯t know if the calibration chamber was made from bulletproof glass, but she might be about to find out.


    Alister faltered, staring at her, arms at his side. Beside him, the techie was oblivious, scowling at the AMC¡¯s terminal. Clara took a slow breath, poised on the edge of striking, observing each moment as though it contained a lifetime of information. A warmth spread throughout her chest, throbbing in her injured shoulder. Static energy shot through her body, lighting up her nervous system, sputtering out of her fingertips as tiny blue sparks. She recited her Augmentation¡¯s abilities. A Teslatic Burst could reach Alister from here, but the technician would be caught in the electrical energy too. And what if it damaged the AMC, caused the procedure to abort and hurt Andy? It was risky, and her pistol was more familiar.


    Alister licked his lips ¡°I¡¯m joking.¡± He swung down from the lorry and joined her. ¡°It is your choice, I am sure you will make the correct decision eventually. Let me put the Golden City coordinates into your terminal.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s alright.¡± Clara took her hand off her pistol, but contained the teslatic energy in her palm.


    ¡°I am not forcing you to come. It is better if you have options.¡±


    ¡°No thank you.¡±


    Alister smiled stubbornly, but his eyes slumped. He laughed softly. ¡°It is easy to find anyway. When the sun shines, follow the glow.¡±


    Clara didn¡¯t respond. She wore the awkwardness of their conversation like a shield. She¡¯d had a bad feeling about Alister since the day they¡¯d met at Haven Inn, and now she knew why. He was a manipulator and a supremacist. He did mental gymnastics to rephrase his primal desires as some sort of grand and noble quest to better humanity. Clara was just a resource to him, no matter if she was Augmented¨Cthe superior species¨Cshe was still just a woman, breedable. One step above Homo sapiens, one step below him.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you arrange our payment?¡± Clara said. ¡°You don¡¯t need to be here do you?¡±


    Alister hesitated, his eyes swam in hers. ¡°Of course. I will return, my lady.¡±


    Clara grimaced at the my lady, but transformed it into a smile while Alister was looking. As he left, she returned her attention to the AMC¡¯s chamber. Andy¡¯s head was bowed, long black hair curtaining his face. ¡°How much longer?¡± Clara asked the technician.


    She ignored her until Clara climbed into the lorry and nudged her.


    The technician didn¡¯t take her eyes off her monitor as she answered. ¡°He should be finished by now.¡±


    ¡°It always takes him a while.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t his first time though?¡±


    ¡°No, tenth or so.¡±


    The techie scowled at the monitor. ¡°Weird.¡±


    Clara tried to decipher what was being displayed. One tab possessed a 3D model of Andy¡¯s DNA, however, many of the adjoining text boxes were blank or contained error messages. ¡°What¡¯s weird?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not reading right.¡± The technician turned away from the screen, fixing Clara with a frown. ¡°Is your partner¡­ He¡¯s human, right?¡±


    The question was so unusual, it took Clara a moment to respond. If there was something corrupted about their readings, then that was good news to her, so long as Andy¡¯s calibration process wasn¡¯t interrupted. The less information the New Patricians had on them, the better. ¡°He¡¯s human.¡±


    ¡°Software doesn¡¯t seem to think so.¡±


    ¡°Homo augmentus,¡± Clara said, imitating Alister¡¯s lofty way of speaking. ¡°A new super-breed of evolved dickheads.¡±


    The techie ignored Clara¡¯s attempt at humour, reabsorbed in her console¡¯s display. Clara had the sudden impulse to smash the computer monitor and pull the woman away¨Cshe was invading Andy¡¯s privacy¨Cbut restrained herself. Afterall, it was her turn to calibrate next.


    Almost an hour passed by the time Andy lifted his head and pushed the hair from his face. Moving slowly, he excited the chamber and towelled himself down, shoulders sunken, face a gloom.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Clara asked.


    Andy grunted, struggling with the leg of his black jeans. Clara had the urge to help him dress, but knew it would only hurt his ego.


    ¡°Keep an eye out,¡± she whispered, undressing beside him. ¡°Alister might pull something. Don¡¯t trust them.¡±


    Andy grunted again, fastening his belt. Touching the handle of his revolver, he sighed with relief. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he seemed to take a moment for himself. Opening them again, the spark of alertness had returned to his green iris. ¡°I don¡¯t know the meaning of the word.¡±

 Chapter 44 - Distress Signal

    Three days had passed since his recalibration, and Andy had been heavy on the booze to forget it. The process was always unpleasant, laced with feelings of rage and visions of suffering. Whatever had happened between him and the AMC¡¯s invasive software, it had drilled too deep and broken something in his brain. Demons watched him from the dark spots which blotted his drunken vision, waiting for him to fall asleep. He felt their cold presence whisper to him from his shadow, oozing from the pores of his skin. He could almost see their faces when he closed his eyes, terrible and patient. They would catch up to him eventually, unless he drank himself unconscious, merging the hours of light and dark into a blur.


    He awoke one morning shivering, having not zipped his sleeping bag up properly and searched for the bottle, only to find it empty. Crawling out of their tarpaulin shelter, Andy searched the bags tied to their motorbike for another to clench his thirst. The morning light was pale. The air was quiet. Shivers struck Andy like a gong. He couldn¡¯t remember having eaten, but didn¡¯t feel particularly hungry, just empty. Finding his stash empty, he gave up his search and crawled back under the cover of the tarp, wrapped himself up in his sleeping bag and shimmied close to Clara. She felt warm against his arm. He turned around, put his back to hers, and huddled into a ball.


    It was as though he¡¯d blinked, but he must have slept, because he could hear his sister outside rummaging around. Andy crawled out of the shelter, taking his sleeping bag with him.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± Clara said. She had a small fire on the go and was brewing some tea with pine bristles and leaves. ¡°Sleep well?¡±


    Andy was thirsty, but his headache was no worse than usual. ¡°Yeah, fine.¡± He looked around their surroundings for the first time. They were in a small copse of trees on a hillside. The ground was covered in ferns and moss. Clara must have scavenged every last piece of dry wood in the copse to get the fire going, and it wouldn¡¯t last long. Andy squatted next to the flames, opening his leather jacket like bat wings, soaking up the heat. ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°South west of Milltown. James, the cartographer, gave me a tip off. There¡¯s supposed to be vaults in this region. Old ones, built during a war, refurbished for the cataclysm. If they¡¯re empty, one could make for a good home, or might contain salvage.¡±


    ¡°Nice one.¡± Andy felt his spirits lifted by the heat. ¡°I¡¯ve out for three days and you¡¯ve already figured it all out.¡±


    ¡°Four days, Andy.¡± Her tone was solemn. Clara stirred the hot flask of tea with a stick which she¡¯d stripped the bark of. ¡°You haven¡¯t talked to me in four days.¡±


    Guilt struck Andy. It was an emotion he rarely entertained. He swallowed it down, hiding his face in his fringe. ¡°Shall I make up for it by talking loads today?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s alright.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s the least I could do. Here we go.¡± Andy held his breath, observing their surroundings, trying to pick something out to talk about.


    ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡±


    ¡°Wait for it¡­¡± His attention fell on Julie, who had slept at his hip, never leaving his side. He withdrew her, heavy in his palm as he held her aloft, his other hand on his chest. ¡°Oh Julie, my sweet-¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡± Clara scowled, removing the flask from the fire, but a tired smile touched her lips as she poured the tea. Normally, Clara led their conversation, but they sat in an uncomfortable silence while they drank. With each beat of his heart, his sister grew more distant, his chest felt heavier. He¡¯d let her down because he wasn¡¯t strong enough to bear the demons which had always stalked him. A shadow fell upon him. Baleful faces appeared in the fire¡¯s coals, laughing at him. They were coming back. His mouth felt dry. Just a little drink to take off the edge would be nice, but he was completely out. If he had a little drink, he could think straight and apologise properly, and make amends.


    Clara built up the flames. The embers crackled and popped as they consumed the wet wood, steaming wet yellow fungi stuck to its bark, hissing as it burned. The smell sifted through Andy¡¯s thoughts, grounding him in the present, if for a moment.


    ¡°Pass me your arm,¡± Clara said.


    Andy held his arm out. Clara slipped her terminal over his wrist, tightening the straps to adjust to his arm. A cold spot on his forearm felt like ice melting over his skin. She sat beside him on a log, operating it, humming to herself with satisfaction.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m able to get a reading of all of your abilities. James upgraded it for me. He¡¯s a good man. Not an employer exactly, but someone to trade with. Someone who we owe a favour now.¡±


    Checking the pockets of his combat vest strapped beneath his jacket, he was relieved to discover one was full of .45 rounds for Julie, and another two were brimming with shotgun shells. ¡°What weapons do we have?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a pump action shotgun,¡± she said without looking at him. ¡°Seems to be in good nick. I¡¯m still on the submachine gun and nine-mill. Not sourced a replacement marksman¡¯s rifle yet, or your assault rifle.¡±


    ¡°Or my machine gun.¡± Andy longed to hold a hefty cannon in his arms, feel the recoil push back against him as he fired. ¡°Alas.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m done.¡± Clara relinquished his wrist. ¡°Check it out.¡±


    Displayed on the terminal were a list of Augmentation¡¯s abilities, like a more advanced version of the notes Clara used to draw for him on paper. Andy scrolled through the list¨Cit was longer than he remembered. ¡°Cool.¡±


    ¡°No, not just cool. Andy, can¡¯t you tell how useful this is? It shows exactly how your Augmentation is developing and changing your DNA¡­ What kind of fighter it¡¯s turning you into. You can have control over it, you can shape it in a certain direction, study your abilities and combine them and maybe create new ones and¡­¡±


    Andy groaned, putting his head in his hands. ¡°Okay, okay.¡±


    ¡°What? Andy, what?¡±


    Frustrated and fatigued, Andy struggled to formulate the words. ¡°I just don¡¯t think about it the same way you do.¡±


    ¡°I thought you were coming around to the idea of developing this, you know, getting stronger?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but my way. Not here, on a computer screen, first thing in the morning. I need to be in a fight. When I¡¯m in the zone, I feel more creative.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s how I¡¯ve figured it out,¡± Andy said. ¡°Like with the big-ass lava lamp, Julie and I had to come up with something on the spot. Improvise. You know, go with the flow. And it worked.¡± Andy jabbed the final entry on the screen. ¡°See here. Vortex Bottleneck. I came up with that on the fly.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s cool.¡± Clara¡¯s voice had lost its bluntness. She spoke softly, and Andy wanted to keep it that way.


    ¡°What about the others? Just take a look, it might help.¡±


    Andy scrolled to the bottom of the list. Displayed was a write-up of his Affinity delineation, with two new entries transcribed. Although he¡¯d witnessed them during his calibration process, he¡¯d failed to commit them to memory:


    Delineation: Affinity


    Vortex Shot (Tier 1): Wielding the affinity revolver, the Gunslinger is able to conjure immense, explosive energy into a vortex boom, the equivalent of 5kg TE kinetic force, capable of destroying multiple foes in a wide blast. The Gunslinger must be poised in order to conjure the vortex, or else the ability will fail.


    Vortex Cannon (Tier 2 - Shotgun Variant): This ability requires more poise and physical endurance to use. Kickback may destabilise the user. The cannon has a wider berth of effect, capable of projecting 25kg TE kinetic force.


    Vortex Bottleneck (Tier 2 - Sniper Variant): This ability condenses 5kg TE of kinetic force into a tighter beam, delivering a more accurate shot at further distances.


    He and Julie had used the Vortex Cannon ability to decimate the zombie horde back at the shopping mall one week ago. He¡¯d since entirely forgotten about the ability roughly three bottles of whiskey ago. That was bad. If this was something he could summon on command, it was probably a good idea to remember it. Andy took another sip of tea, rubbing his temples, trying to clear his head of dreariness. It blagged his brain a little just how far his relationship with Julie had come in such a short span of two weeks. Supposedly, his artificial intelligence implants had done some of the legwork too, behind the scenes. But it wasn¡¯t as simple as point-and-shoot anymore. Andy always had style, but with these abilities, he had class. Clara was right. He could strike a compromise.


    ¡°Got anything else cooking, AI?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Clara asked.


    Andy tapped his skull. ¡°Private conversation sis, do you mind?¡±


    The voice didn¡¯t reply. In fact, it hadn¡¯t talked to him since they had their argument on the lava lamp factory floor. Even during his recalibration, it had been elusive, speaking in whispers, as though it was afraid of him. ¡°Huh, must be on a break.¡±


    ¡°Look at the other entries.¡± Clara scrolled to the top of the list. ¡°This one is new.¡±


    Transcribed under his Marksman¡¯s delineation, two new abilities were written:


    Delineation: Marksman


    Heavy Weaponry (Tier 1): The Gunslinger is able to activate their musculature to its fullest extent in order to operate heavy weaponry.


    Ricochet Shot (Tier 2): The Gunslinger envisions the internal geometry of a target, combined with external geometrical factors, developing an immediate and comprehensive understanding of ricochet potential.


    Clara read the text out loud beside him. ¡°Did your AI tell you about how to improve your abilities during calibration? What to work on next? How to train?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Andy said. ¡°It said: Drink more, you¡¯re slacking. So I followed orders.¡±


    ¡°No, seriously Andy.¡±


    Andy paused, thinking back to his recent recalibration. The hallucinations were haunting, yet graciously vague. ¡°Not much really. The robot voice has been shy, acting strange. I think we had a falling out.¡± Andy shrugged. ¡°Probably finally got sick of me. I told it who was boss down in that factory, made it obey me. Since then, it¡¯s been in a strop.¡±


    ¡°A falling out?¡± Clara asked, scanning the terminal. ¡°I don¡¯t think AIs go into strops.¡±


    ¡°Well I don¡¯t know then.¡±


    ¡°Could this explain things?¡± Clara pointed to an error message displayed at the bottom of the reading which read: DNA compromised. Mutation present. Containment aborted. Soldier compromised.


    ¡°Huh.¡±


    ¡°This happened because you never recalibrated,¡± Clara said. ¡°The Augmentation screws with your DNA. It¡¯s constantly changing things. It¡¯s not perfect technology. You¡¯ve probably developed some sort of cancer because you never looked after yourself.¡±


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Nah, I doubt it.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah? What about your dodgy toe, Andy?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t talk about my toe.¡±


    ¡°My AI told me that if I avoided recalibration for just thirty days, there was a three percent chance of my DNA corrupting. Three percent! You went two years without using an AMC when you first got Augmented, and then what¡­ six times since then?¡±


    Andy grunted. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°I hope you¡¯ve not screwed your abilities up for good.¡±


    ¡°My AI¡¯s just being pissy. I told you, I made it my bitch. It works for me now.¡± Andy stood up and drew Julie, aiming her off into the forest. As soon as he touched her handle, power flowed through him like a hot shower. ¡°I still feel it. We¡¯ve still got it.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I get it. Calm down.¡±


    ¡°Want me to prove it?¡± Andy stumbled through the bracken onto the road. ¡°Give me something to shoot, I¡¯ll hit it. I¡¯ll hit that bird in the sky.¡±


    ¡°No, I trust you.¡±


    Clara¡¯s words doused Andy like a bucket of water on flames. His sister looked at him worriedly, with a touch of amusement. Andy holstered Julie, feeling a little embarrassed about his outburst. ¡°Alright.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s keep an eye on this warning message, see if it changes. I¡¯m sorry to have a go. These vortex abilities are pretty cool,¡± Clara said, taking her terminal back.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Andy pulled a face like he¡¯d smelled something foul. ¡°Are you giving me praise?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Clara turned her back on him, kicking out the fire. ¡°I¡¯m saying keep up, cause I¡¯m coming for you. How long do you think it¡¯ll be before I¡¯m stronger than you? A month? Two months?¡±


    Andy opened his mouth to speak, but his mind faltered on the dying embers as Clara kicked up a cloud of ash. His sister was driven, combat experienced and physically fit, and now she was Augmented too. ¡°Shit.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right shit. With a little training and attention to detail, I¡¯ll surpass you in no time.¡±


    ¡°Nah, I have natural talent. I¡¯m a killer. You¡¯re just a bookworm.¡±


    ¡°A bookworm with magic hands.¡± She splayed her fingers in front of Andy¡¯s face, and a spark jumped between her tips.


    ¡°You keep saying that, sis, and, I think you think it¡¯s cool. But it¡¯s really not. The magic hands bit is forced.¡±


    ¡°What, no it isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s forced.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a classic, like a magician.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s try-hard.¡±


    Clara reached out and poked Andy between the eyes. A jolt of electricity pinched his brow, sending a spasm through his body. Andy arched his back and staggered backwards with a yelp, grabbing a branch to stop himself falling.


    ¡°Oh my god, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Clara extended a hand above him. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to do it so hard. Are you okay?¡±


    Andy drew Julie and pointed her at Clara¡¯s head, but kept his finger off the trigger. In a dramatic tone reminiscent of the anime programmes he used to watch as a kid, he boomed, ¡°Vortex Shot-o.¡±


    Clara laughed. ¡°Alright killer, settle down and help me pack up.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t it work?¡± Andy slapped the revolver in his palm, then peered down Julie¡¯s barrel. ¡°Dammit. Give me that terminal back, I need to read up on how to shoot this thing. Is it this sticky out bit here? Do I pull that bit? Where do the bullets come from?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. You won¡¯t be making fun when I¡¯m shooting lightning out of my eyes because I put in the hard work and training.¡±


    ¡°I will actually. That sounds ridiculous.¡±


    Together, they packed their gear onto the motorbike and readied to set off. ¡°We¡¯re on the outskirts of a couple of zones,¡± Clara explained. ¡°But further west is a region of fae creatures.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    Clara scowled at her terminal, reading the notes. ¡°Trolls, fairies, gnomes, that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Sounds lame.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, there¡¯s a distress signal nearby. I¡¯ve been honing in on it for a couple of days, but the mountains keep blocking the signal. We¡¯re getting closer, could be something in it.¡±


    Andy nodded slowly. ¡°Which way are we heading now?¡±


    Clara roamed out onto the road and pointed through the woods towards a mountain in the valley opposite. ¡°Around that way. We have enough fuel to last us about a week. If we don¡¯t find anything by then, we¡¯ll return to the Haven Inn and start again.¡±


    ¡°What about those patriots who gave us the lava lamp job?¡±


    ¡°Patricians,¡± she said. ¡°No. I don¡¯t want to work with them.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡±


    Clara paused, something unspoken. ¡°I don¡¯t trust them. They¡¯re extremists. Dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Say no more.¡± Andy mounted the bike. ¡°I want to drive.¡±


    ¡°Andy, the road-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sick of riding bitch. It¡¯s your turn.¡±


    Clara glared at him stubbornly. It was the exact same face she used to pull when they argued as kids.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she conceded. ¡°But don¡¯t go too fast, the suspension can¡¯t handle it.¡±


    ¡°Rodger, todger.¡±


    For the better part of a day, they bounced through the hills on uneven country paths with Clara directing him.


    ¡°What kind of trolls are we talking about?¡± he asked, slowing their motorcycle to a crawl so that they could talk over the growling engine.


    ¡°Fantasy trolls.¡±


    ¡°That could mean anything. Big angry ones with clubs or the more whimsical under the bridge fairytale sort?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d imagine the fairytale sort. A lot of the reports in this area lean in that direction. James leant me a book before we set off¨Can encyclopaedia of folklore. It said trolls are weak to fire in some mythologies, and ice in others.¡±


    ¡°What isn¡¯t weak to fire.¡±


    ¡°Alright¡­ Especially weak.¡±


    Near nightfall, Clara¡¯s terminal beeped loudly. They were getting close. Dismounting, they wheeled their bike into a bush. Clara fitted a small tracking under the engine so that they could find it if they wandered far. Andy slung his shotgun over his shoulder and followed Clara, climbing up a verge, gripping spindly tree roots crawling over the rocky earth. Clara stopped periodically, assessing their progress and mapping a route. The terrain was unpredictable, rocks slipped underfoot, some branches tore as he trusted his weight to them, but it was nothing compared to the thousands of stairs of the lava lamp factory. At least out here, there was fresh air.


    At one stop, Andy breathed deeply, rhythmically, and actually felt a bit of a headrush coming on from the exercise. He wouldn¡¯t admit it to Clara, but he was kind of enjoying their hike. It was rare they got outdoors, just the two of them without being in immediate danger. It reminded him of the good old days, hiking through the wasteland with fuel canisters strapped to their backs. Clara often beat herself up about how their career as mercenaries was going, but considering where they¡¯d come from, Andy thought they were doing just fine.


    ¡°It¡¯s close,¡± Clara said, nodding ahead, down a shadowy verge. The sun had dipped behind the hilltops, softening to a grey-blue, but Andy could still see fine. In fact, he could focus better now that the sunlight wasn¡¯t aggravating his hangover. Clara put her finger to her lips and pointed ahead. The sounds of grunting and snuffing came from below. Andy crept forward until he had a full view of the clearing below.


    Two humanoid beasts loitered outside what looked like the entryway to a mineshaft, each twice the size of an average man. Their skin was as rough as bark, their lips were squat like horseshoe mushrooms, tiny eyes like pebbles sunk into their green-ish grey mossy complexion. One of the trolls crouched on its haunches, tearing apart a fluffy carcass in its hands. Its long, carved fingernails were each like a vulture¡¯s crooked beak. They seemed unwieldy long, however the troll butchered the rabbit with ease.


    The second troll was hard at work, scraping away the stone into which the mine-shaft door was set. A thick mane of black wiry hair ran down its scalp and spine like a skunk¡¯s streak. White pebbles lay scattered at its feet, its face and arms powdered with dust. Andy didn¡¯t know how long the trolls had been there, mindlessly scraping away at the rock, but he commended their tenacity. They must really want access to whatever was inside.


    Andy held two fingers up to Clara.


    She held three back, then pointed towards the edge of the clearing. Andy squinted. He had mistaken the third troll for a crooked tree, they were so perfectly camouflaged. The creature stood unmoving, gripping the tree¡¯s trunk, merging like a chameleon.


    ¡°The distress signal is in there,¡± Clara breathed into his ear, softer than the wind. She pointed at the stone archway. ¡°The trolls¡­ maybe they¡¯re peaceful?¡±


    Andy scowled at her, then raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Fine.¡± Clara sighed, shifting into a pounce. ¡°Ready?¡±


    Andy nodded.


    ¡°Go after me,¡± Clara said. Clenching her hand into a fist, yellow light seeped through her fingers as though she was clutching a bulb. Her hand shook as her expression hardened with concentration. Knelt beside her, Andy could feel the heat building in her hand like a campfire. Suddenly, Clara rose to her feet and threw the light like a stone. Electricity lashed through the air, crackling like a flashbang above the heads of the trolls. They flinched and gazed at the sky, crouching in fear.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Clara said, unslinging her SMG and opening fire. Andy rose to his feet and blasted the troll nearest the archway with his shotgun. Each round blew chunks in its stoney carapace. He didn¡¯t need to activate any of his Augmentation¡¯s abilities¨Cit was easy work, and Andy preferred to go vanilla sometimes. The troll moaned and raised its hands to protect its face, then fled into the forest with its brethren. After just a few paces, the trolls blended with the trees, disappearing out of sight. But Andy could hear their heavy footsteps retreating into the wood.


    Clara took point, clambering down the verge while Andy remained in overwatch until she signalled it was clear.


    ¡°Cool ability,¡± Andy said, climbing down after her.


    ¡°It¡¯s not what I meant to do.¡±


    ¡°The flashbang got them.¡±


    ¡°It was supposed to be a thunderbolt.¡± Clara pouted, approaching the archway cut into the rock. Dug one metre into the rocky alcove was a stout metal door. The rock around the frame had been chipped away by the trolls, but they hadn¡¯t seemed any closer to breaking in.


    ¡°Here we go.¡± Clara rasped on the door. ¡°Anybody home?¡±


    There was silence.


    ¡°We¡¯re mercenaries. We responded to your distress signal. Can you hear me?¡±


    ¡°Hello?¡± The voice crackled from a vent in the door¡¯s frame¨Ca small speaker set into the steel.


    ¡°Hey, yeah. We dealt with the trolls outside. That¡¯s what I¡¯m assuming the distress signal was about.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± the voice crackled. ¡°Yes. It was.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so, you owe us.¡±


    There was no response. Clara sighed. ¡°Why don¡¯t you open the door so we can negotiate. It¡¯s safe to come outside now.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a microphone in the speaker system.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡±


    ¡°I can hear you just fine where you stand.¡±


    Clara shared a look with Andy, mouthing ¡®Arsehole.¡¯


    ¡°And a camera,¡± the speaker said.


    Clara narrowed her eyes. ¡°So you saw us spend ammunition to take care of those trolls then, risking our lives, because of your distress signal.¡±


    ¡°No, I was¡­ busy. Listen here, denizens of the wasteland. I am grateful for your efforts to rid my doorstep of pests, however, I am a solitary fellow, unwanting and unwilling to open my front door to strangers. Please, take my thanks as payment, and these.¡± A thin latch opened at the bottom of the door. A short stack of paper was pushed through the opening.


    Andy ripped the sheets out of the opening and jammed the barrel of his shotgun through the latch. ¡°Open the door, dickhead, or I¡¯ll shoot.¡±


    Someone screamed inside, the voice crackling over the intercom. Something bashed the barrel of Andy¡¯s shotgun. The blood rushed to Andy¡¯s head. Crouching down, he aimed the muzzle upwards as much as he could, but Clara put a hand on his shoulder before he could fire. ¡°Chill, bro.¡±


    ¡°You owe us,¡± Andy growled, retracting his shotgun.


    ¡°What are these?¡± Clara picked through the papers the vault occupant had handed over. They contained cartoon scribbles divided into squares, annotated with writing. ¡°Is this a comic?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a screenplay.¡± The voice was sharp, like a yelping dog whose tail had just been stood on. ¡°Marco and the Marconaughtic Strangers. That¡¯s the first edition. There are only fifteen copies in the world. A very rare and valuable piece of post-cataclysm media.¡±


    ¡°We could smoke him out,¡± Andy said. ¡°These vaults always have air vents. We barricade this exit, find the airhole. Light a fire.¡±


    ¡°Yes, good idea Andy.¡± Clara spoke loudly, her voice taking on a superficial tone. ¡°We could smoke him out, then blow the door open and steal everything inside.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re bluffing.¡± The voice behind the door stammered. ¡°Are you bluffing?¡±


    ¡°Although, we don¡¯t want to overdo it like we did last time,¡± Clara said. ¡°Those maps were ruined by the smoke, and the poor bastard hiding inside had trashed the place trying to get out. Let¡¯s be more careful this time, make sure he¡¯s asleep when we do it. Maybe give it a few hours and come back.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why you would just be standing there explaining your plan like this,¡± the voice said. ¡°You¡¯re definitely bluffing.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to demonstrate that we¡¯re ruthless,¡± Clara blurted, banging her fist on the door. ¡°Are you stupid? You hired us for a job-¡±


    ¡°No I didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You de-facto hired us when you sent your distress signal out. Rules of the wasteland.¡±


    ¡°Actually, I didn¡¯t know if that distress signal was even working.¡±


    ¡°Well, it was.¡±


    There was silence.


    ¡°Listen, it¡¯s just us two. My name¡¯s Clara, and this is Andy. We¡¯re mercenaries. We¡¯ve done you a job, we¡¯d like to get paid. Some food, ammunition, supplies, anything you can trade will do.¡±


    Further silence.


    ¡°It¡¯s getting dark out here. Now, it¡¯s one thing for you to not pay us, it¡¯s another to leave us stranded in the wasteland with a bunch of pissed off trolls roaming the woods at night. Open the door, please.¡±


    Andy turned his back on the vault entrance, scanning the surrounding forest. He sensed something staring back. It was one thing ambushing a monster like that, catching it off guard, but it was another fighting a whole group of them in their home territory at night. Either they had to get inside the vault right now, or leave the area quickly and return to their bike.


    ¡°It¡¯s a mess in here,¡± the voice said.


    ¡°Trust me,¡± Clara said. ¡°I¡¯ve seen worse.¡±


    There was the sound of metal scraping against metal as several latches were released. The door creaked open on heavy hingest, grinding against the grit left on the ground where the trolls had tried to dig their way inside. Warm air hit Andy, carrying with it the stench of body odour. A face appeared in the crack. His dusky complexion was speckled with a scraggly black beard. Rectangular spectacles framed his bloodshot eyes. The young man¡¯s hair was a mess, knotted in clumps like a tangled fishing net. He pushed his head out a fraction further, scanning each of them, eyes lingering on their firearms. The collar of his shirt was bright and colourful, blossoming with red and orange flowers. He grinned, bearing his yellowing teeth. ¡°Greetings, denizens of the wasteland. My name is Gabriel, welcome to my humble abode.¡±

 Chapter 45 - Gabriel鈥檚 Bunker

    Gabriel locked the heavy steel door behind them, sealing the daylight and fresh air outside, leaving Clara standing in a musty antechamber which led to a staircase.


    ¡°This way,¡± Gabriel said, flitting past them down the stairs. His footsteps rang in the confined space, disappearing underground. A dim fluorescent light shone through the steel mesh of the stairs, but it was too dim to navigate by. Clara turned her headlamp on and followed him, Andy at her back.


    The smell of body odour and mould greeted her in the stairwell shaft. Based on the information James had given her, she had expected a vault with many adjoining habitation quarters and facilities, however as they descended the final stairs through the ceiling of the main room, she realised that Gabriel¡¯s domicile was a simple bunker. A large, cluttered space, the bunker was lit by three UV tube lamps, casting everything in a fuzzy glow. Clara lowered the brim of her cap to stop herself getting a headache.


    An array of computers in a dusty pile sat beneath a long desk, atop which a handful of monitors hummed, most inactive, their LED standby lights on. Two screens contained video feeds of the exterior door, combined with real-time readings of the bunker¡¯s life support systems and strings of code. One more monitor displayed a sultry cartoon of a young woman, partially covered up by a small alert window. The stylistically drawn, big-eyed, even bigger breasted woman was spilling yoghurt or some other substance over her barely-fitting top, sticking her tongue out like a dog on a hot day.


    Gabriel leapt into his chair and quickly maximised a coding window, hiding the image behind it. His ill-fitting flowery shirt draped over his shoulders like a shawl, bleached jeans torn off at the knees to make tight fitting shorts. The sandals he wore exposed his crooked toenails. Clara had never before seen an outfit like it in the wasteland.


    Spinning to face them, Gabriel fidgeted with a flip knife, stealing not too subtle glances at Clara while she observed the room.


    ¡°Nice place,¡± she said, holding her breath.


    ¡°What a shithole,¡± Andy said.


    Gabriel chuckled, fading to a sigh. ¡°Please don¡¯t disturb that pile,¡± he pointed. ¡°It¡¯s quite precarious, very carefully balanced.¡±


    ¡°Alright then,¡± Clara said, avoiding a tower of junk beneath the staircase. Near Gabriel¡¯s computer station was a wide, knee-high shelf covered in piles of clothes, cardboard boxes full of electrical equipment, paper and pens, and magazines. It was only when Clara spotted a stained mattress beneath the mess that she realised it was supposed to be a bed. An alcove in one wall contained a sliding door, behind which was a simple shower, the walls of which were spotted with black mould. The laminate floor beneath her feet was sticky where it wasn¡¯t covered in empty food tins and cartons, each with their own ecology thriving in their scraped-out remains. A large fan spun behind a grate, built into the wall, laboriously spinning to cycle the stale air out of the bunker for fresh oxygen. By the smell of things, the ventilation system was losing the battle.


    Gabriel walked over to a tiny kitchen area beside the shower. It contained a sink, a kettle and an airfryer. ¡°I haven¡¯t had guests in quite some time,¡± he said, turning the tap¡¯s creaky handle. To her surprise, the water came out looking clear, until it hit the sink¡¯s dirty basin. ¡°But be assured, I have requisitioned the finest coffee in all the land.¡± The short man retrieved a jar of instant coffee from a cupboard and began to stab its contents with his flip knife, breaking the solidified grains into chunks, plopping each into a mug.


    Andy started opening cupboards beside Gabriel, looking for something. He was a good two heads taller than their host. The bunker-dweller looked at him alarmed, then shrunk away, fixing his attention on the kettle. ¡°What are you looking for, sir?¡±


    ¡°Booze.¡± Andy bent to check the draws beneath the worktop. They were full of rations. Clara guessed that Gabriel must have information on a good place to scavenge nearby if he was so well stocked.


    Gabriel rummaged through a plastic crate of mostly-empty bottles and withdrew a whiskey liquor, splashing a drop in one of the mugs. ¡°Ah, an alcoholic twist, I can accommodate¡­ in a gist.¡± Before he could screw the cap back on, Andy swiped the bottle from his hands and took a swig, then picked up the plastic crate and carried it over onto the bed. Andy rifled through the selection of dusty bottles, topping one off at a time.


    Gabriel watched helplessly. His mouth shaped words, but no sound came out. Finally, he bowed his head and returned to making the coffee.


    ¡°Nice place,¡± Clara lied, picking through the rubbish to stand behind him. ¡°How long have you lived here?¡±


    ¡°Five years,¡± he said, absorbed in his coffee-stirring, refusing to face her.


    ¡°Where does the power come from?¡± Clara leant on the counter beside him.


    ¡°Underground streams. The primary battery has a large capacity. I upgraded the life support¡¯s root coding to be more efficient, so I can keep this place running indefinitely, assuming I don¡¯t overdo it with electricity.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s impressive.¡± If she looked past the mess, the bunker actually seemed like a pretty convenient place to live, assuming the facilities like the shower still worked. ¡°Just you living here?¡±


    Gabriel laughed, then went quiet. His eyes flicked to Clara, then back to his coffee. ¡°Are you joking?¡±


    ¡°Erm¡­ No.¡±


    ¡°I live alone, but that¡¯s how I like it.¡± With a meek chuckle, Gabriel handed Clara her coffee, then carried the other over to Andy, who pointedly ignored him, rifling through the spirits. Gabriel fitted the coffee mug atop a cluttered bedside cabinet, pushing into a stack of junk which toppled at the opposite end, spilling debris onto a pile of dirty clothes. Clara couldn¡¯t help but smile; it reminded her of the cascading penny machines in the arcade where her grandparents had taken her on her eleventh birthday, perhaps a month before the cataclysm had occurred. She had long since forgotten their faces, but an impression remained¨Ca childhood without worries, full of love, where Clara was a little girl being treated by her grandparents, going on adventures, discovering things about the world.


    The memory faded, and with it, a warmth at her core. Clara fiddled with her silver watch, hands over her solar plexus, as she reluctantly returned to the present.


    Shuffling over to his computer desk, Gabriel crossed his legs and held his mug in his lap. ¡°Like I informed you previously, I don¡¯t have much in the way of earthly possessions to trade, only what you see here.¡±


    ¡°Guns?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m somewhat of a pacifist myself.


    ¡°Ammunition?¡± Clara asked. ¡°Explosives?¡±


    Gabriel shook his head.


    ¡°What do you do?¡±


    ¡°I enjoy coding.¡± Gabriel smiled, staring into his coffee mug, too nervous to look her in the eye for more than a split second.


    ¡°What do you code?¡± Clara sat near him on the edge of the bed.


    ¡°Oh, just hobby projects. This and that. It¡¯s good escapism. There¡¯s a whole separate world inside each of these machines. A whole other architecture, laws and actors. It¡¯s easy to forget the world outside. Sometimes¡­¡±


    Clara waited for him to finish the thought, but Gabriel remained silent. He was seemingly shy, yet enthusiastic when on the right subject. ¡°What do you think of this?¡± Clara showed him her wrist terminal. ¡°It¡¯s Bulwark tech.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Ah, interesting. I¡¯ve dabbled in their OS. But, I prefer my own.¡±


    ¡°Last techie I showed this to lost his nut.¡± Clara smiled, catching Gabriel¡¯s elusive gaze. ¡°I guess you nerds aren¡¯t all the same, afterall?¡±


    Gabriel fidgeted with his glasses, sipped his coffee, then jumped out of his seat. ¡°How rude, I haven¡¯t shown you my display.¡± At the opposite end of the computer desk were three rows of shelves, like any other surface in the room, covered in clutter. However, the clutter atop the shelves was especially eclectic: books, magazines and rectangular cases with fantastical front covers provided the backdrop to miniature army soldiers and figurines, a bag of emerald dice, an ornate chess set and pack of cards. Beneath the orange glow of the desk lamp was a painting station. Sat in the centre of the station was a garden gnome, mostly painted except for its eyes, which remained a blank white.


    One at a time, Gabriel picked his prized models off the display shelf and showed them off to Clara. She smiled and nodded and acted impressed, curiously analysing the unusual man¡¯s behaviour. Technically, this was a business negotiation, not show and tell. She had learned to appear firm in front of an employer, but not arrogant; to bargain hard, but never insult a man¡¯s honour, because they were often quite insecure about that. Gabriel, however, was like a puppy dog unable to sit still. Though appearances could be deceptive. He must possess some unforeseen quality which had allowed him to survive the apocalypses for so long, and with such a comfortable setup underground. But Clara hadn''t seen it yet.


    ¡°Any more booze?¡± Andy was standing over her shoulder holding an empty bottle. The UV light from the ceiling lamps seemed to get absorbed in his long black fringe, casting a deep shadow over his pale face, from which only his long nose protruded.


    Gabriel paused, a dinosaur-like alien figurine in his hand. ¡°That was¡­ everything I had.¡±


    Andy glared at him silently.


    ¡°Well,¡± Clara said, keeping a soft touch to her voice. ¡°Normally we ask for more payment than a few half-empty bottles of alcohol.¡±


    Gabriel looked at his feet, then around his bunker. Clara followed his gaze to a stack of dusty boxes. Behind them was an open doorway, barricaded by clutter. It reminded Clara of a caved-in tunnel, where only the roof of the room beyond was visible.


    ¡°What¡¯s behind there?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± he said. ¡°I used it for storage when I first moved in here, and then, well, I ran out of room, as you can see.¡±


    Rising, Clara rifled through the contents of the boxes: pots and pans were piled amongst computer parts; a framed painting of a nude woman draped in silk, its glass smashed; a road sign with a large exclamation mark painted on it and an acoustic guitar missing all but its thickest string. Curiosity got the better of her. ¡°You play?¡±


    ¡°Erm, yes actually.¡± Gabriel took the guitar and proceeded to sit with it, plucking a jaunting riff. He stopped and started again, muttering to himself, then after a couple tries atonally sang the lyrics. ¡°Smoke on the water.¡± A little more guitar. ¡°Fires in the skies.¡±


    ¡°Very nice,¡± Clara said. For some reason, she had the impulse to encourage him. It was as though the destitution of the wasteland hadn¡¯t reached Gabriel¡¯s bunker. He was adorably meek and with a sporadic excitement. It had its charm.


    ¡°It¡¯s getting dark,¡± Andy said. He was rummaging through a landslide of junk burying a weights machine¨Ccolourful shirts exhibiting exotic flowers and birds were draped over the machine¡¯s pulley cables like clotheslines. ¡°If this is a bust¡­¡±


    ¡°We should leave,¡± Clara finished, her heart sinking. She¡¯d had high hopes of slipping into a new job, whether it was salvaging the technology of an abandoned vault, or working for its inhabitants. She should have known Gabriel¡¯s distress signal was too good to be true¨Ctoo conveniently timed after she had rejected the New Patricians¡¯ proposal. Of course, the only affluent faction they¡¯d come across outside of Quadra were crazy crusaders, none-too-subtly eager to breed her for their nation¡¯s glory. Clara would take being a mercenary over that any day, even if that left them broke.


    Clara checked her terminal. Ever since updating her maps with James, they displayed the locations of several small pockets of human civilisation throughout the wasteland. Gabriel¡¯s bunker was currently on the outskirts of a relatively minor apocalypse zone and within two-days¡¯ uninterrupted drive of two major settlements they hadn¡¯t yet visited. Those settlements might not be friendly, nor have the expendable resources to hire mercenary work, but it was a good place to start. Still, it might be months before they sorted out a decent employer, all the while they¡¯d have to sleep rough and dodge apocalypse zones.


    Then an idea occurred to her.


    ¡°You might want to turn that distress signal off now,¡± Clara nodded at the computer monitors. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to attract any undue attention.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes.¡±


    ¡°Can you receive signals too?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Gabriel turned on two of the idle monitors, tapping on his keyboard, pulling up several windows and diagrams. ¡°There¡¯s an array on the hilltop which I added to my network. It allows me to send and receive signals from quite far.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Clara said. ¡°Are you looking for tenants?¡±


    ¡°Tenants?¡±


    ¡°Andy and I could use a place to stay for tonight, and maybe for a couple weeks after that. Maybe a month.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think¡­¡± Gabriel started. ¡°It¡¯s very cramped.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve slept in worse. And there¡¯s a spare room there, right?¡± She nodded at the cluttered cave-in. ¡°Though, you might want to open the door and let some fresh air in. Andy, wanna go do that?¡±


    Andy marched up the stairs wordlessly.


    Gabriel stammered. ¡°Hold on. But what about the trolls?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about trolls for the time being.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think all of this is necessary. There isn¡¯t exactly the room for three people down here.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re going to need to clean up a bit,¡± Clara said. ¡°You can start by clearing the bed.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know you. I don¡¯t want you living with me. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Well, until you can figure out another way to pay us, that¡¯s what we¡¯re going to be doing.¡± Clara slung her backpack onto the floor, making a show of loosening her submachine gun strap.


    Above them came the sound of the exit door creaked on its heavy hinges and a draft of cold air wafted into the bunker. Using two plastic bags for gloves, Clara boxed up the mouldy cans of food littering the floor, instructing Gabriel to attend to the worst of the mess. After three trips of carrying the rubbish outside, Clara had cleared the bed and made a neat path to the toilet and kitchen. It would take days to clean the bunker properly, and supplies like bleach, which Gabriel didn¡¯t possess. Sitting on the bed, she examined her work while Gabriel openly sulked at his computer desk, playing with his flip knife. If it were anyone else, she might take the blade as a threat, but it seemed more like a toy in Gabriel¡¯s hands.


    ¡°You said you can receive signals.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Gabriel said sullenly.


    ¡°Bring up the list, please.¡± Clara examined the log, but the identifiers were all unintelligible to her¨Cstrings of seemingly random numbers and characters. ¡°What am I looking at here?¡±


    ¡°This is the data log for the past twelve months,¡± Gabriel said, changing the filter. ¡°And this is current activity.¡± The list was blank for a few seconds, then a signal blinked.


    ¡°What was that?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s always been there, on and off. Errant signal from a site of interest.¡±


    ¡°A distress signal?¡±


    ¡°Erm, no, more like a radio footprint. Nothing of the spoken language, however, if you spend four years decoding the information like I have¡­¡± Gabriel flicked on two more computer monitors, accruing an array of windows displaying graphs, schematics, strings of code and notably: a video feed. The feed displayed grainy, static footage of a cliffside. The only reason Clara could tell it was a video and not a photograph was the red ¡®recording¡¯ circle and clock counter in the bottom right. Gabriel manipulated the video feed, zooming out to reveal a highway jam of derelict vehicles.


    ¡°What¡¯s powering the camera?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°Solar panels.¡± Gabriel spun his cursor in circles around a shady patch of the cliff¡¯s edge. ¡°That¡¯s where the entrance is.¡±


    ¡°Entrance to what?¡±


    ¡°A vault. Pre-cataclysm, from what I can decipher of their netcode. No communications. Nobody going in or out. It¡¯s been silent as long as I¡¯ve been here. Abandoned.¡±


    Clara eyed the data on the monitors. ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s abandoned?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m certain.¡± Gabriel paused for a moment, then his head snapped around to face hers. ¡°What¡¯s more, I¡¯m sure that it possesses a fully stocked armoury, and supplies and habitation facilities for five-hundred people. I can direct you there, if you¡¯d like?¡±


    Clara leaned forward intently. ¡°And the front doors are in-tact? Nobody has blown them in yet?¡±


    ¡°Nope, it¡¯s all in-tact. Perfect condition, unopened, still in box. Now, doesn¡¯t that sound like a finer place to live than this?¡±


    ¡°If the salvage there is as good as you say, it would cover your debt to us.¡± More than cover it, Clara thought. ¡°But how do we get inside?¡±


    ¡°With this.¡± Gabriel picked up a dome shaped device. Its reflective metal surface was hexagonally segmented, with a control panel on its flat bottom. ¡°Modified military-grade tech. I call it the dimachaeron.¡±


    ¡°Explosive?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Gabriel said, holding the device aloft, letting the light of the UV lamps shimmer across its domed surface and reflect in his glasses. ¡°A hacker¡¯s delight. A key.¡±

 Chapter 46 - Hacking and Entering

    They crashed at Gabriel¡¯s bunker that night and returned to their motorbike in the morning. Wheeling it onto the road, they set off back the way they¡¯d come, following the directions which Gabriel had mapped on Clara¡¯s wrist terminal. He had configured their radios to his frequency, using his communications tower to boost the signal, but they kept the line quiet. She trusted his information; at the end of the day, what choice did he have? They knew where he lived, and he was in their debt. She wouldn¡¯t really have smoked the man out of his home, but she knew that Andy had intimidated him enough to sell the threat.


    By early afternoon, they reached a highway which cut through the mountainside, following a boulder-strewn river. Gradually, the highway became congested, with derelict vehicles, long abandoned. For once, Clara was grateful that they were riding a bike instead of sitting comfortably sitting inside their old jeep, as it allowed them to weave between the wrecks and maintain a good pace. She kept her eye out for un-sacavenged gas tanks, slipping back into old habits from the days when she and Andy were fuel jockeys. It was always a good idea to top up on the road.


    Spotting a small pink car with its fuel cap still on, Clara stopped their bike and pried open the cap with her knife. She took a tube from their kit and fed it into the fuel tank, sucking on the other end until the liquid came spurting out, double checking that it tasted of petrol, not diesel, then fed the other end into their tank and filled her up. While she was jockeying, Andy searched a nearby lorry for supplies, filling the rucksack which Gabriel had graciously donated to them for their mission.


    ¡°Found some batteries,¡± he said.


    ¡°Nice haul,¡± Clara said, inspecting one of the batteries. An idea occurred to her. Clenching it in her hand, she felt the fizz of electricity building beneath her skin, activating her Augmentation¡¯s Current Control module. She discharged the energy into the battery. At first, it felt warm, but it quickly grew too hot to touch. Dropping the battery onto the road, faint white smoke seeped through the seams. ¡°Let me try that again.¡± Clara took another battery, expelling the smallest amount of energy she could muster into the cell. It grew warmer, but did not explode.


    She repeated the process three more times, then replaced the battery with the one in her headlamp, checking the strength of the beam. It appeared to be fully charged. ¡°Well, that¡¯s going to be bloody useful.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    ¡°Think of the applications. What if I could do this to a power generator? Maybe an electric vehicle?¡±


    Andy squinted in the sunlight. ¡°Yeah, well, I can shoot things really good.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a competition, Andy. Though, if it was, I''d be winning.¡±


    Starting the engine, Clara guided them down the congested highway for an hour. The morning sunlight shone at their backs, stretching jagged shadows out before them. Her radio crackled static. Gabriel must be trying to communicate something to them, however the mountainous walls surrounding the highway valley were blocking the signal. Within minutes of her radio crackling, Clara discovered a fuel station on the edge of the highway. Ahead, one side of the valley flattened out and the river flowed into a lake, around which an old town was built. Clara stopped their bike¡¯s engine at the fuel station and listened out, observing the town with her binoculars. There were no sounds, no smoke stacks, no signs of life.


    Andy wandered into the fuel station, but came out empty. ¡°No booze,¡± he sulked.


    ¡°What a shame.¡± Clara gave her gear a once-over, recounting her submachine gun magazines, checking that her sidearm was loaded, and that her backpack contained the assortment of gadgets which she¡¯d acquired over the recent months, neatly packed into their designated pouches for ease of retrieval. Clara scanned the area for a security camera lamppost, spotting the device which Gabriel had hacked at the back of the pumping stations, overlooking the highway. The camera¡¯s lens glinted as it swivelled to point at her. Clara gave the camera the thumbs up.


    ¡°This way,¡± she said, heading over a bridge which led perpendicular to the highway towards the opposite wall of the valley. They went on foot, checking their surroundings, absorbing in the desolate silence. If a rock rolled down the cliff¡¯s edge a mile away, Clara would hear it echo through the mountainous corridor. They could be sure they were alone. Crossing the river, the road ended in a large, flat concrete area. Cars were parked in rows, door to door. Most of the vehicles still had their tank caps intact. Remote spots like these were the last to be pillaged by fuel jockeys, but they wouldn¡¯t last long as fuel supplies dwindled across the wasteland. Clara pinged the spot in her map and added a note about the fuel supplies¨Cinformation which could be valuable to someone as trade¨Cthen approached the foot of the cliff.


    A trickle of water fell over the mouth of a cave, dripping into a pool of mossy concrete. ¡°Watch your step,¡± she said, turning her headlamp on and stepping towards the cave. Slimy green walls rose steeply around her, coming to a point high above her head. The contrast of illumination was stark. It was as though she was stepping through the cowl of a huge, dark entity. Clara turned around to check that it was still daylight outside. Sunlight cut across the mouth of the cave, like a portal to another world. Clara judged that, by mid-afternoon, the sun would rise over the valley behind them and shine into the mouth of the cave, but for now, the light of her headlamp would have to do.


    Once inside the cover of shadows, Andy sighed and put his back to the cave¡¯s wall, draining the final drops of his hip flask. ¡°That¡¯s better.¡±


    ¡°Still hungover?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°Always.¡±


    A solid metal wall cut through the cave, a huge circular door at its centre, into which was engraved the words: ¡®Alpine Vaults¡¯. The vault door was locked in place on slab-like brackets, hydraulic pistons poised to shift its massive weight. Clara shone her headlamp over the walls, searching for a control panel. She found it fixed into the earth like a steel podium, left of the vault door, right where Gabriel had said it would be. Withdrawing the dimachaeron device from her bag, Clara fixed the cable adapter which Gabriel had provided to its underside,and felt around the underside of the control panel for a port, then plugged in the dimachaeron device.


    The small metallic dome hummed happily, tickling her hand with electronic energy. A minute passed and nothing happened, then a claxon startled her. The alarm pulsed to the rhythm of two rotating red bulbs at each corner of the metal wall. Exotic buzzing noises came from within the door as complex locking mechanisms stretched their sleep-weary joints. Pistons hissed. Five times, bolts inside the vault door thudded open like a sledgehammer striking steel, then the door rotated on its hinges and rolled over. Clara peeked into the space beyond. A sterile air filled her nostrils, leaking out of the vault into the wasteland.


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    Clara unplugged the dimachaeron, severing Gabriel¡¯s connection to the vault. Andy held his shotgun at the ready. ¡°Remind me¡­¡± he said.


    ¡°Salvage. There could be a lot of it in here. I don¡¯t even know where to start¡­ Rations, fuel, ammunition, electronics.¡±


    ¡°An armoury?¡±


    ¡°According to the schematics Gabriel drew up, yeah. Fully stocked.¡±


    Andy¡¯s eyes widened.


    ¡°We¡¯re treating this as a reconnaissance,¡± Clara said. ¡°We¡¯ll fill our bags and our pockets. Feel free to grab anything you can carry, but the main objective is to take stock. Inventory everything that¡¯s inside the vault, then figure out a way to get it out. If the loot is as good as I think it will be, we¡¯ll want to get our hands on a van or a lorry and clear a path through the road down here.¡± She turned on the stock-mounted flashlight taped to her submachine gun. ¡°This could be it, Andy. We might be in for an early retirement, or at the very least, we clear the vault out and make it our base of operations.¡±


    Andy was silent, glancing at the red bulbs, still spinning inside their cages above the doorway. Clara had thought he¡¯d be more excited, she struggled to know what Andy was thinking sometimes. What motivated him beyond booze and violence? Perhaps nothing. But he¡¯d follow her anywhere, even into the pitch black bowels of the earth.


    ¡°Come on,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯ll be fun.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    The walls of the chamber beyond glistened as their torchlight shone over them. Carved out of the cave itself, a metal walkway delved underground for ten metres, then spread out, forming the floor atop which was a small building about the size of a garden shed. A few fold-up chairs were propped up on the walkway with discarded bottles lying at their legs. Clara¡¯s flashlight reflected off a strip of yellow¨Cthe patch of an old worker¡¯s jacket draped over the railing. She checked over the side of the walkway for bodies, but couldn¡¯t smell anything which suggested decay. Reaching the shed, she shone her headlamp through the grimy window, but struggled to see inside.


    ¡°Beer,¡± Andy said, shining his headlamp on the bottles. ¡°Hob-gobbin¡¯.¡± He held up the bottle for Clara to see. The label displayed a goblin-like character spitting a gob of phlegm. ¡°Probably pre-cat. Long out of date. Don¡¯t think this was recent.¡±


    Clara jumped as a claxon sounded behind her. She spun on the vault door atop the walkway, gun poised. The pistons hissed and began to revolve the door. Her mind raced. Who had closed the doors? Was it Gabriel, or was it an automatic security system? They could run up the stairs and get outside now, but possibly be locked out forever. Or they could stay inside, explore the vault, and figure out a way to escape later.


    In the distance beyond the cave, the blue sky disappeared from sight as the door rotated back into place, shutting them in darkness. For a moment, the claxon still sounded outside, its howl reduced to a faint hum, then a silence fell over Clara like none she had ever felt before. Her heart beated in her brain. She listened to the rustle of her clothes as she extended her arm towards the small encased room. A single drop of liquid splash over a rock like the ringing of a service bell. The chamber had three buttons on its side, which glowed with faint electrical light. ¡°An elevator shaft?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°Try the buttons,¡± Andy said.


    Clara pressed each of them in turn, but nothing happened. Unslinging her backpack, she withdrew a crank-bar and jammed it into the gap in the doors, cranking it to open them a fraction. Once it was wide enough to squeeze through the gap, she peered inside. The shaft dropped a dozen metres or so to the roof of an elevator. A small access ladder was built into an alcove. Clara repacked the crank and slung her submachine gun over her shoulder, then climbed onto the ladder. The air was cold and still, yet a chill breeze ran through her body. She shivered, air from her lungs condensing in her headlamp¡¯s glare. Reaching the elevator¡¯s roof, she searched for a roof panel while Andy caught up.


    Suddenly, the elevator shuddered to life. Its cables creaked as its wheels spun, tugging it upwards. One of the buttons she¡¯d pressed on the control panel must finally have activated. It was only a short distance to the roof. The opening which they¡¯d made in the chamber¡¯s doorway wasn¡¯t wide enough to jump through. In a matter of seconds, they¡¯d be crushed against the roof of the shaft.


    Andy¡¯s revolver boomed, deafening in the tight space. Sparks flashed at his feet, then he bent and tore a panel off and leapt inside. Clara jumped after, kicking him in the head as she fell through. Losing her balance, she fell on her back in a daze.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she started to say, then realised they were not alone. The person she had kicked lay beneath her, but it wasn¡¯t Andy, because Andy stood above her pinning a man to the wall, the barrel of his shotgun jammed into the man¡¯s chest while he pushed the muzzle of his revolver sidelong into the skull of another.


    ¡°Don¡¯t shoot,¡± the man with the shotgun barrel digging into his ribcage said. ¡°Don¡¯t shoot me. Please don¡¯t shoot me.¡± He repeated the phrase hysterically, shaking his hands in the air. The man who Andy trained his revolver on was mute.


    A weapon clicked behind Clara¡¯s head, chambering a round. Clara¡¯s heart raced. She placed her hands beneath her, ready to pounce if the situation escalated. ¡°Friendly,¡± she said, looking up at the woman holding the gun. Her eyes were wide and frightened, flickering from Clara to Andy. ¡°We¡¯re not enemies. We¡¯re friendly.¡±


    ¡°Then lower your fucking guns.¡± The woman¡¯s voice was awash with panic. The rifle shook in her hands, finger half squeezing the trigger.


    The man who Clara had landed on crawled out from beneath her. He looked up at Andy holding his comrades at gunpoint, then at Clara sat opposite him. The people in the elevator were all wearing a similar white uniform with blue arm bands. Their boots were black and shiney leather, their weapons as clean and unscratched as if they¡¯d just come off the factory line.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± the man sat opposite her said. His hand not-too-subtly drifted towards a sidearm at his waist.


    ¡°My name¡¯s Clara. This is Andy.¡± Her mind raced to catch up with the situation. ¡°We¡¯re explorers. We thought this vault was empty, so we came to have a look.¡±


    ¡°You came from outside?¡± the man asked, picking a square-like military cap off the elevator floor and setting it on his head. He got to his feet. Clara did the same, keeping one eye on the woman pointing a rifle at her.


    ¡°We did.¡±


    The man stared at her, a deep scowl pitting his eyes. His face was slightly wrinkled with age, but he did not bear the signs of fatigue. He didn¡¯t have any visible scars, none of them had. The men were clean shaven, the woman¡¯s hair was tied in a neat bun. They smelled faintly of chemicals. ¡°You came through the vault door?¡±


    Clara nodded. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to intrude. We didn¡¯t think the vault was occupied.¡±


    Andy grumbled under his breath.


    The man in the military cap looked him up and down. ¡°You survived the apocalypse?¡±


    ¡°Apocalypses,¡± Andy corrected unhelpfully.


    ¡°Truce?¡± Clara said, holding her arms up, motioning for Andy to lower his weapons. The man with the cap nodded, and the woman beside Clara lowered her rifle. The man whom Andy had pinned with his shotgun shuddered with relief as Andy released him, but his eyes remained wide and frightened. The atmosphere balanced on a knife¡¯s edge. However, with their weapons lowered, if things suddenly escalated, Clara and Andy would have the advantage of speed in the tight space able to activate their Augmentation¡¯s powers in a flicker. Static tickled her fingers, eager to be released, but she contained the energy and pressed her heartbeat into submission, controlling her breathing. ¡°Sorry for making you jump like that. We didn¡¯t mean you any harm.¡±


    Clara smiled, but her levity was not reciprocated. The older man glared at her, eyes flittering over her apparel. His head turned to Andy, who returned the stare in his usual blank, sociopathic manner. The man looked away, preferring to address Clara. ¡°My name is Gary. Please tell me, what is the world like now? Has anyone else survived?¡±

 Chapter 47 - Guided Tour

    Andy squinted in the fluorescent light of the tunnel. The bulbs eviscerated even the shadows gathered in the tiny cracks between concave wall panels. A gutter of cables ran beneath the walkway, feeding into door terminals, ventilation fans, and computer systems. People dressed in overalls moved mutely aside, stunned into silence by his and Clara¡¯s presence. Andy let his black fringe drape over his face like a mask, shielding his eyes from the lights as he gazed at the shoes of Clara in front of him. What was with this hangover? It wouldn¡¯t go away, even when he drank.


    They stopped at an alcove in the tunnel beside a metal sliding door. Above the door, a sign read: ¡®Administration¡¯. Two potted plants sprouted in each corner of the alcove, their bright green leaves stark in contrast to the plain white walls. His sister and the vaulties chatted away. From what Andy could gather, they were taking them to see their boss. Another diplomatic congress. More boring conversations. Maybe Clara could negotiate a job out of it, maybe she couldn¡¯t. Why did everything cool have to already be occupied? Clara had made the vault sound so promising. He¡¯d have loved to have pillaged a pre-cat armoury. But his dreams were dashed by the brightly lit, clean smelling corridors.


    The man beside Andy held his assault rifle awkwardly¨Chis strap was too long, plus the safety was still on. The condition of the weapon was immaculate, it might never have been shot before. Andy estimated that it would take him seven seconds to have it raised, cocked and combat-ready if a fight broke out.


    The doors slid open. ¡°This way,¡± the older man with the blue-rimmed cap said. He led them into a wide, flat room. Behind a dark wooden desk, a man sat combing his slick black hair in a mirror. He looked up as they entered, then tidied his desk quickly.


    ¡°I said five more minutes, Gary.¡±


    ¡°This couldn¡¯t wait five minutes, sir.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what-¡± The slick-hair guy bit his tongue, then straightened the gold trim of his black overalls. ¡°Come in,¡± he waved his hand over the room. The concave outer walls had been fitted with vertical square panels, so that dark wooden furniture could be pushed flush up against them, resembling a normal domicile above ground. A drinks cabinet stood beside benches with red velvet cushions. There were framed paintings on the walls, and a large decorative map behind the desk. Andy felt something soft underfoot¨Ca thick shaggy cream coloured rug, now with a dark spot where Andy had tread mud in. He approached the glass cabinet¨Ca constellation drink might lift his spirits. Inside were a dozen bottles filled with sand. Andy opened the cabinet, searching for one containing liquid. ¡°What kind of cruel joke is this?¡±


    ¡°Our reserves ran out a long time ago,¡± the man with slick black hair said. ¡°That¡¯s just a little art project my son has made.¡± He approached Andy and extended a hand. ¡°My name is Nathan. I am the Head Honcho here. I oversee things.¡±


    Andy shook his hand, looking him in the eye, real man-to-man like. ¡°Can you oversee me a stiff drink?¡±


    ¡°Hah hah,¡± slick-hair imitated laughter, smiling with his teeth. ¡°Lively. Very good. But how did you get in here?¡±


    The office grew quiet. Andy glanced around. The four soldiers from the elevator in white overalls with blue stripes were standing by the doorway, each armed with short-barreled assault rifles. More people were crowded in the tunnel behind, peering inside. Two more soldiers had entered the large office room from an antechamber, dressed in grey jumpsuits with red stripes. They faced Andy, armed with pistols and truncheons. Andy smiled at them as his Augmentation¡¯s power rumbled in his gut, hungry for action. Clara had taken the centre of the room, her submachine gun slung over her back, arms at her side, fingers flexed.


    ¡°We had information that this vault was empty,¡± Clara said. ¡°We came here for salvage, but obviously that¡¯s not our intention now. Who are you people? How long have you been down here?¡±


    The Head Honcho started to tell a story about when the vault was created, and why, and who was chosen to enter it, and how, and Andy completely switched off¡­ He sat down, placing the butt of his shotgun at his feet, leaning on the barrel, rocking side to side as Clara went on about the cataclysm, and the apocalypses, and the fall of civilisation and so on. Their conversation dragged on. What did it matter? And slouched back on the bench, fantasising about the armoury. So the vault was occupied, but perhaps that wasn¡¯t the end of the story.


    It felt like an hour had gone by. Finally, Andy interrupted. ¡°I need a piss.¡±


    The Honcho stopped mid-sentence and looked at him. ¡°Okay. O¡¯Niel, show our guest to the administrative restroom.¡±


    Andy winked at Clara as he left the room¨Cshe only had time to scowl back at him before he was gone. The tunnel outside was crowded with men, women and children, all wearing different coloured pastel jumpsuits. They gawked at him as his grey-jumpsuit escort cleared a path to the restroom, ordering them to return to their stations and dorms. The onlookers scattered, or pretended to be attending to tasks in the tunnel as he walked by, stealing glances as he strolled by.


    Inside, the toilet was immaculately clean. Once he was finished, Andy caught his reflection in the mirror. Black bags clung to his eyes. His teeth had begun to yellow, but at least his hairline hadn¡¯t started to recede yet. His long black hair mantled his shoulders, casting his face in a shadow even the fluorescent bulbs could not penetrate. Suddenly, his neck itched. Pulling his collar back, Andy inspected the bite mark which the vampire had given him. All that remained were two small dots, not much of a trophy scar. He¡¯d hoped for something cooler like a patch of dark purple bruising and bulging black veins. It was a vampire after all. Weren¡¯t their bites meant to have a lasting effect?


    ¡°Ah well.¡± Andy excited the toilet. Outside, the crowd of onlookers had grown, standing in doorways or peering through oval windows set into the walls. The children were more bold, creeping down the tunnel towards him in groups to get a better look. Andy combed his hair out of his face and addressed his fans. ¡°I¡¯m hungry. How¡¯s about a tour?¡±


    The four guards escorting him looked at one another. ¡°That could be arranged,¡± the blue cap-guy from the elevator said.


    ¡°What?¡± another started. He was short and stocky, with a thick black moustache. His uniform was grey, and his military cap bore a red band. ¡°Are you joking Gary?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see the issue.¡±


    ¡°The issue? It¡¯s obvious. You don¡¯t have the authority to make that decision.¡±


    ¡°Are you forgetting my role, O¡¯Niel?¡±


    ¡°Your role¡¯s decorative. You¡¯ve gotta be kidding me.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t decorative anymore.¡± The soldier in the blue-rimmed cap squared up to red-cap. ¡°External guard. These guests are external.¡± Beside Blue-Cap, two more of his comrades dressed in white overalls and armed with snubbed rifles stood at his back, staring down the other vaultie.


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    ¡°Oh, oh okay then, yeah.¡± Red-cap flung his arms in the air. ¡°You enjoy your power trip, Gary. Your little moment in the spotlight, see how far it gets you.¡±


    Blue-cap ignored him, turning to the other soldiers. ¡°Disarm our guest, Jamerson.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir.¡± The young man put his hands on Andy¡¯s shotgun. Andy snatched his wrist and looked him dead in the eye.


    ¡°Nah-ah-ahh.¡± Andy waggled a finger in the boy¡¯s face. The boy shrank back, eyes wide, pupils darting over Andy¡¯s face.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ Andy, right?¡± Blue-cap said. ¡°We¡¯ll need to take your weapons before I show you around.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± Red-cap said. ¡°At least get the Honcho¡¯s permission first.¡±


    Andy considered for a moment, then relinquished his shotgun and 9mm sidearm.


    ¡°Your pistol,¡± the boy said.


    ¡°It¡¯s a revolver,¡± Andy corrected.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind,¡± Blue-cap held out his hand.


    ¡°I do mind.¡± Andy looked the man in the eyes unblinking. Blue-cap¡¯s gaze was averted down the long corridor. At the far end, a group of men dressed in the same grey jumpsuits as Red-cap approached them, pushing through the crowd.


    Red-cap¡¯s hand drifted to a sidearm with a square yellow barrel, likely a taser. ¡°Relinquish your weapon, sir.¡± Andy resisted the urge to blow a hole in his chest with Julie.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Blue-cap said. ¡°I get it, you don¡¯t trust us. That¡¯s understandable. He can keep the revolver.¡±


    Red-cap gawked at his colleague, chuckled and shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re fucked, Gary.¡± He stormed off down the corridor to meet with the approaching soldiers.


    ¡°Can you promise me not to cause any trouble?¡± Blue-cap asked.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Andy said noncommittally.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go then. Jamerson, deposit our guests'' weapons in the security office.¡±


    ¡°Will do, Gary.¡±


    ¡°Deonte,¡± Blue-cap said, turning to the final soldier dressed in white. ¡°You¡¯re with me.¡±


    They parted with the main tunnel, travelling into a maze of tight, hexagonal corridors. Each doorway was numbered with a name plate beside a small control panel. An old man walked out of a doorway and jumped at the sight of Andy, dropping a bundle of bed linens. Children pressed their faces against the plastic glass windows lining the walls. Women froze at the sight of him. Men sized him up as he strode by. Andy¡¯s head almost touched the ceiling. A vent blew cold air on him. Looking up, he saw his face reflected in the black glass of a security camera.


    Before long, Blue-cap had led them back around into the main tunnel again. Andy peeked over the heads of vault dwellers who had come out of their dorms to see what the fuss was about, and spotted the group of grey clad soldiers at the opposite end of the long tunnel, where he had been standing just minutes ago. Blue-cap had seemingly circumvented them. The officer presented an armband to the door panel and it opened obediently, revealing a second elevator. The three of them stepped inside and Blue-cap closed the door. ¡°Currently, we are on the first floor. Admin level. Second floor is Hydroponics. Third is Habitation. That¡¯s where we¡¯re heading.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Andy said.


    The elevator hummed softly as Andy felt his gut rise and fall with the acceleration. Something was up with Blue-cap and his subordinate. In the tight space, Andy could smell their fear over the malaise of disinfectant. Blue-cap was sweating, his pupils dilated. He swallowed audibly, then scanned his armband over the elevator panel. It slowed and the doors slid open on a small room lined with shelves full of boxes and tools. A woman wearing a pastel green jumpsuit looked up as the elevator doors opened. She was standing beside a trolley containing grid-like containers full of identical plants. Her jaw dropped upon seeing Andy. A man entered the room through strands of opaque plastic sheeting behind her and started stacking plants on the trolley, oblivious of Andy¡¯s presence.


    ¡°Deonte,¡± Blue-cap said to his colleague. ¡°Fetch Ricky and Carlos. Meet us in the canteen.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± The elevator doors closed behind the young man, leaving Andy and Blue-cap in the elevator alone.


    ¡°Be honest with me,¡± the officer said as the elevator descended. ¡°What is the outside world like? Is there anything left?¡±


    ¡°Erm, yeah. Plenty.¡±


    ¡°Is it dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°But you survive, you¡¯re free. You came here of your own will? Explorers, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°I want you to tell the people that,¡± Blue-cap said. ¡°When we reach habitation, tell them everything. They need to hear it.¡±


    As the elevator door opened on the third level, a symphony of sounds rushed in. A wash of conversational murmur echoed off the two-story ceiling like rainfall. There was laughter, and the thud of a ball being kicked inside a small sports court outside the elevator¡¯s entrance. On either side of Andy were a row of uniform doorways and windows with a balcony separating the two floors. Teenagers lounged on the balcony, shouting and pointing at their friends below. A door hissed as they slid open, briefly unleashing the sounds of a baby crying from within. The occupants were all wearing pastel jumpsuits, although the teenagers had unbuttoned theirs and tied them around their wastes, or torn them at the sleeves.


    ¡°Follow me,¡± Blue-cap said. They travelled around the sports court between two habitation blocks and into a canteen at level three¡¯s centre. A wave of silence swept over Andy as he passed through the vault, quieting the storm. At the crossroads was an open courtyard with tables and chairs. A kitchen with a long counter stood beside an elevator shaft which jutted up like a massive column into the ceiling. Standing in the canteen, Andy could see down all four corridors, each about one-hundred metres, which divided the floorplan into four habitation blocks. Blue-cap was behind him, observing him. ¡°Booze?¡± Andy said.


    Blue-cap shook his head, but someone brought Andy a meal of steamed vegetables, green leaves and a pink squidgy paste. It tasted of salt. Vault dwellers gathered around him as he ate, crowding on all four corners of the balconies overlooking the canteen. Andy tried to ignore them, letting his fringe fall in front of his face. He could hear the buzzing of machinery and whirring of fans from over the crowd¡¯s quiet murmuring. Blue-cap sat down opposite him, two new friends at his back. Neither of them had weapons, so Andy didn¡¯t pay them much attention. ¡°Andy,¡± Blue-cap started. ¡°Tell us about the outside world.¡±


    ¡°Are there many others like you?¡± one man with a crooked nose asked.


    ¡°What happened to the government?¡± a woman with braided black hair said.


    ¡°Is the war over?¡± someone else asked.


    ¡°Did the world end?¡±


    ¡°Has the sun gone out?¡±


    ¡°My husband, Vincent Vondave. Do you know him? He was a politician in-¡±


    ¡°Are the military still active?¡±


    ¡°Did the Bulwark Project work?¡±


    ¡°Did humanity survive?¡±


    ¡°Are there monsters?¡±


    ¡°Are we still in communication with the orbital stations and satellite arrays?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the most dangerous thing you¡¯ve killed?¡±


    Andy looked at the teenage girl who had asked the question. ¡°A vampire,¡± he said.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± she said. Suddenly, the other vault dwellers went silent.


    ¡°Powerful demon guy with magic powers. Weak to garlic, silver and heavy machine guns. My sister killed it, technically. I helped though.¡±


    ¡°What about the government?¡± a woman with long blonde hair asked. ¡°Who is running the world now?¡±


    ¡°How many people survived?¡± a man in glasses asked. ¡°What percent?¡±


    ¡°What currency do you use?¡± someone shouted from the back.


    ¡°What¡¯s the second most dangerous thing you¡¯ve killed?¡± the girl asked.


    ¡°Stone golem,¡± Andy said. ¡°Or, hmm. Let me think. That thing was strong, but slow. Dynamite blew it up. In terms of dangerous, a horde of zombies is pretty hard.¡±


    ¡°Zombies?¡± she asked.


    Andy burped and leant back in his chair. ¡°Wow, you people really don¡¯t know shit.¡±

 Chapter 48 - Mutiny

    ¡°So I said¡­ Stop clowning around! And I shot his big red nose off.¡± Andy grinned at the fond memory. A few of the vault dwellers¨Cthe inquisitive teenage girl especially¨Claughed with him, but the majority of them remained silent, just staring. ¡°Wow, tough crowd.¡± Andy took a swig of the apple flavoured water they¡¯d provided. Given a year to ferment, it might make for a passable cider.


    ¡°So, there¡¯s Clara, standing on the stage trying to communicate with the leader of the mime faction, and this mime¡­ she¡¯s waving her hands about and making all these wild gestures. I swear at one point, she pretended to be stuck behind a glass wall. And all this time, Clara is just trying to find out where the clowns have broken in from. You see, the clowns and mimes were at war with each other. They were separate apocalypses that happened to occur next to each other. Coincidence? I don¡¯t know, maybe not.


    ¡°Anyway¡­ I¡¯m killing these clowns and I swear to you¡­ I shit you not, they¡¯re attacking with wooden mallets and riding on top of balloon animals as steeds. I swear to you I¡¯m not making this up. I know it¡¯s ridiculous but it¡¯s the most fun I¡¯ve ever had in my life. So I¡¯m holding this breach in the main theatre room, which was apparently sacred ground for both factions. I¡¯m fighting with these mime warriors and they¡¯re imitating shooting guns and throwing grenades, and you wouldn¡¯t believe it, but it was working. The clowns were falling down as if they¡¯d been shot by riot control grade weaponry. Bean bags and that. Not enough to kill, but enough to put you on your arse. Apparently, the mime¡¯s power came from their performative ability to suggest that you were being shot with a gun, and your body would feel the impact. Crazy right?


    ¡°Anyway, at one point, I just stop shooting because I wanna watch what¡¯s going on. I don¡¯t want to kill all the clowns and spoil the fun. So the clowns swarm into the theatre, smacking the mimes with their mallets, kicking them with big shoes¡­¡± Andy was laughing too much at the memory to speak. ¡°With big shoes¡­ This one mime fell over¡­ with his arse in the air¡­ and the clown¡­ he booted him and it made a trumpet sound.¡± Andy cackled and banged his fist on the table. He imitated the noise. ¡°Just like that. Then this balloon animal lifts one of the mimes up in its balloon jaws and starts to squeeze him to death. The other mimes try shooting the balloon animal steed, which looked kind of like an elephant to me, I think. Anyway, they¡¯re shooting this elephant balloon animal, but their psychic bullets are bouncing off and hitting themselves. So then the mimes start falling over to their own pretend ricochet bullets. They convinced themselves that they were shot. I couldn¡¯t believe it, I was laughing too hard to shoot.¡±


    Andy shook with laughter, breathing hard as though he¡¯d just gone for a jog.


    ¡°What happened to the mimes?¡± a boy asked. The kids and teenagers were gathered in a group of their own, captivated by his stories.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. We won, I think? I can¡¯t remember, this was years ago before I was Augmented. I just remember these balloon animal clowns and¡­ ahh, it was awesome. Why can¡¯t more of the apocalypses be like that?¡± Andy glanced around the vault at the pastel jumpsuit wearing vaulties, not a spec of grime or sign of injury on them. ¡°I guess you wouldn¡¯t know.¡±


    The soldier in the white jumpsuit with the blue-rimmed cap came and sat next to Andy. He wore a smile, but his eyes were stern, scanning the crowd. ¡°Andy, I need a word in private.¡±


    ¡°Sure, whatever.¡±


    There was a commotion from somewhere deep in the crowd, shouting back and forth. Something clanged as it was thrown against the floor. The shouting rose to a pitch as more voices got involved. A group of grey-jumpsuit wearing guards armed with riot-grade weaponry dispersed towards the fighting. Only two remained to keep an eye on him.


    ¡°Let me show you our kitchens,¡± Blue-cap announced, standing over him. Andy got up and followed him through the crowd towards the building at the back of the canteen. Blue-cap opened a door, and they went inside. Three other soldiers in white overalls and blue armbands came up behind Andy, ushering him inside the canteen.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like being herded,¡± Andy said, stopping just outside the doorway.


    ¡°Please, follow me,¡± Blue-cap said. ¡°It¡¯s for your own good.¡±


    ¡°Oh really?¡± Andy had heard that one before.


    ¡°The Greys are coming for you. They won¡¯t let you leave. You have to trust me.¡±


    The intensity in Blue-cap¡¯s face coaxed Andy on. Whatever he had planned was probably more interesting than eating another vault lunch. ¡°Go on then.¡±


    They passed through the canteen towards the kitchens, then took a detour towards the large column lift. Blue-cap scanned the panel and all five of them went inside. The elevator room was more spacious than the one they had taken previously, large enough to fit about thirty people shoulder to shoulder. Andy stood in the front centre, the soldiers behind him, and Blue-cap to his right¨CAndy intentionally left himself deceptively vulnerable. If one of the soldiers tried to take advantage and drew on him, his Augmentation¡¯s Killer Instinct module would trigger, and he¡¯d kill all four of them in an instant. By exposing himself this way, he could be sure of their intentions.


    ¡°Andy, we want to be free.¡± Blue-cap took his cap off and wiped his brow. Andy wished he hadn¡¯t, because it was easy to forget which one of the soldiers was with them all wearing the same white jumpsuits. ¡°There¡¯s life outside this vault, am I right? People. Animals. The natural world. I remember it, of course I do, but some people find it so easy to forget when they¡¯re trapped beneath the boot of authority.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s some stuff,¡± Andy said. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been stuck down here for nearly nine years, eating the same food, playing the same games, having the same conversations¡­¡± The old man sighed and replaced his blue-rimmed cap. ¡°The Honcho fed us lies. He told us that nothing had survived the apocalypse, that we were the last people on earth. The simple fact that that is not true undermines this entire project. This playground of his. We want to be free.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± the other soldiers affirmed. One cocked his rifle for emphasis.


    The elevator opened on a loading bay. Empty trolleys with grid-like containers stood in a row. The floor was rubbery, the air tasted humid. A few workers in pastel green overalls worked on the trolleys, ignorant of their group¡¯s presence. Andy followed the soldiers through a plastic sheet covered doorway at the back of the loading bay and into a warehouse sized room cast in blue UV light. Spires of light rose to the ceiling on columns of plantlife. Fat green leaves enveloped the UV lights, soaking up its electrical goodness. Andy¡¯s nose attracted him towards a column of tomatoes which bore plump green, yellow and red fruit. A small machine abseiled down the column and picked a ripe tomato off the vine, depositing it in a funnel at the column''s base.


    ¡°We must seem like idiots to you,¡± Blue-cap said, leading their entourage through the hydroponic columns. ¡°Honestly, I can tell that¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking. But we were sceptical, you know. Even before we knew there were survivors like yourself on the surface, we wanted to get out. See for ourselves. It¡¯s only human nature. These walls may be white and clean, but they¡¯re still a cage.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan, Gary?¡± one of the soldiers asked. He was a young man with a thin blonde moustache and soft cheeks¨Cthe very boy who had tried to disarm Andy upstairs earlier that day.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking our guest back to see the Head Honcho. He would never have allowed Andy to speak the truth in Hab Sec. The stories you told¡­ The people know now. Their minds have changed. They are awake, and with your help, Andy, we can set them free.¡±


    Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°Do you have an armoury?¡± Andy asked, snapping a bunch of juicy purple grapes off a vine.


    Blue-cap throwned. ¡°Yes, we do. A small one.¡±


    ¡°Military grade?¡± Andy nodded at the short-barreled rifles each of them held.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s about a stop off?¡±


    There was silence. The soldiers looked at one another while they kept up a brisk pace. ¡°That¡¯s a good point,¡± one of the men said behind him. He was the first soldier to accompany Andy and Blue-cap into Habitation Sec earlier, dark skinned and bald headed. ¡°There¡¯s still more guns in there. The greys could easily arm themselves.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want it to come to violence,¡± Blue-cap said.


    ¡°It¡¯s too late for that. Imprisoning Dave and the others for political crimes. That is violence.¡±


    Their group turned right and headed towards the outer wall of the hydroponics warehouse. Ahead, a UV light shone through fish tanks, projecting a mosaic up the exterior walls. The tanks rose three layers high, each layer comprising a large fish tank above which plants dropped their roots into the water. The fish inside were as fat as his forearm. White tubes connected the tanks, running along their flanks, plunging into the water and rising again, connecting the district like roadways in a city. It reminded Andy of a screensaver which used to pop up on his grandad¡¯s ancient PC if it was left idle for too long.


    Blue-cap pinched his brow. ¡°We just need to convince the Honcho¡­¡±


    ¡°Then why the weaponry?¡± another soldier asked, brandishing his rifle. The man was about Andy¡¯s age, with sharp features and two lines shaved into his left eyebrow. ¡°Is this to be persuasive? Or if he doesn¡¯t agree with us, we shoot him?¡±


    ¡°Keep your voice down,¡± Blue-cap snapped.


    ¡°We should take the armoury,¡± the bald soldier said in a hushed tone.


    ¡°You should definitely take the armoury,¡± Andy said as they came up beside another set of elevator doors. ¡°In my experience, you should always take the armoury.¡±


    ¡°There,¡± the soldier with the eyebrow slits said. ¡°Listen to the veteran.¡±


    ¡°I have friends in the greys,¡± Blue-cap said.


    ¡°We¡¯re doing this for them, too,¡± the bald soldier said. ¡°We all deserve the freedom to decide.¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t shoot them,¡± the blonde moustachioed soldier said. ¡°We¡¯ll just hold them at gunpoint.¡±


    ¡°Let them know we mean business.¡±


    ¡°The Honcho is stubborn. He¡¯ll only respond to might.¡±


    Blue-cap scanned his armband and the five of them stepped inside. The lift was cramped compared to the one which they had taken in the loading bay. ¡°If we had known you were coming,¡± Blue-cap said, face fixed on the interior control panel. ¡°If we¡¯d had time to plan¡­¡± His finger drifted down the panel as he selected a floor. The elevator doors closed, and they descended. ¡°Never mind.¡±


    Andy watched an LED light travel down a tube, passing markers which annotated each level of the vault. Above them was the vault¡¯s First Level, where they had entered from the surface, named Admin Sector¨Cit was annotated to house council chambers, high sec dorms, security offices, observation and the Head Honcho¡¯s office. Below that on Level Two was the Hydroponics Sector, which, as well as the farms Andy had seen, contained a water purification station and a workshop.


    The LED light travelled past Level Three, which was the Habitation Sector, where Andy had eaten his lunch. Below them, Level Four was labelled as Life Support Sector, which contained a hospital, the vault¡¯s mainframe, life support machines and an armoury. Andy smiled to himself, Life Support was an ironic sector for the armoury to be built. Finally, deep underground, judging by its distance of the LED tube between Level Four and Level Five, was the Geothermal Power Sector. If, for some reason, Andy wanted to destroy the vault forever, that¡¯s where he¡¯d go.


    Blue-cap took a deep breath and sighed. ¡°I should have clearance to get into the armoury, but once the Honcho learns what we¡¯re up to, he might have my rights revoked. He can do that from security stations in Admin Sec.¡±


    ¡°What happens then?¡± Blonde-moustache asked.


    The LED light slid into place at Level Four, lighting up the Life Support Sector label. ¡°Then¡­¡± Blue-cap thought for a moment. The doors hissed, but Blue-cap entered a command on the control panel, and the doors froze in place. ¡°If that happens, we cut our losses, and we take the stairwell back up to Hab Sec, stage a revolution. Deonte, get back up there and get everyone ready. Whether or not we can get into the armoury, we¡¯ll need all the sympathisers on our side. If we can get in, that¡¯s great, we¡¯ll arm them. If not, we¡¯ll storm Admin Sec with what we have.¡±


    ¡°This feels rushed,¡± Blonde-moustache said.


    ¡°That¡¯s because it is.¡± Blue-cap responded, keying in a command to open the doors. ¡°The quicker we act, the better we¡¯ll catch them off guard.¡± The officer left the elevator into a wide tunnel. The eyebrows-slit soldier followed him, but blonde-moustache soldier hesitated. Blue-cap turned and addressed him. ¡°If you¡¯re afraid to join us, that¡¯s okay. It¡¯s your choice.¡±


    Blonde-moustache looked at his feet.


    ¡°But we¡¯re gonna need all the help we can get. This is our one lucky chance. The moment we¡¯ve been talking about for years. We¡¯ve got to snatch it.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Blonde-moustache nodded, exciting the elevator. Andy left after him. The elevator doors closed on the bald soldier who remained behind.


    The vault¡¯s tunnel was identical to the one in Admin Sector. Polished steel brackets curved around the tunnel at intervals. Cables and pipes were visible beneath access grates, set into the floor on the flanks of the main walkway. The ceiling was low, Andy¡¯s scalp nearly brushed the roof. Adjoining the main tunnel were several hallways, each smaller and hexagonal in shape, with white wall panels and tube lights running along the top corners. Andy looked through the windows set into the wall on his left. The room was full of beds and medical machinery. Some of the beds were occupied by the sick and ageing, attended to by nurses wearing white jumpsuits with pink armbands. The majority of the ward was empty and clean with a surplus of beds.


    At a crossroads, they took the tunnel right, away from the hospital and towards an area marked ¡®Mainframe¡¯ by a glowing sign in the ceiling. Vault dwellers in pale yellow jumpsuits sat at computers inside small offices, or carried clipboards through the corridors. Many stopped and stared at Andy as he and the soldiers passed, or else they stared dead ahead, pretending not to have noticed their presence.


    ¡°It¡¯s quiet,¡± Eyebrow-slits said.


    ¡°Most of the vault went to Hab Sec to hear Andy¡¯s stories,¡± Blue-cap said. ¡°Our timing couldn¡¯t be better.¡±


    Ahead, there was a shallow groove in the tunnel, about five metres deep, at the back of which was a reinforced door marked ¡®Armoury¡¯. A security camera stood above the door, and against one of the inner walls, a window looked into a small room containing two guards. The men dressed in grey jumpsuits with red armbands lounged in chairs inside the office, eating a stew of some sort and chatting, although the reinforced glass contained their conversation from the outside.


    ¡°Stay here,¡± Blue-cap said, rounding the corner and approaching the door. He scanned his armband over the control panel, but the door didn¡¯t budge. The men inside shifted, and one activated an intercom. ¡°Gary? What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°We need access to the armoury,¡± Blue-cap said. ¡°Head Honcho¡¯s orders.¡±


    Andy activated his radio. ¡°Hey sis, just a head¡¯s up. It¡¯s about to get hot.¡±


    There was no response on the line¨Clikely, their radios weren¡¯t transmitting underground.


    ¡°What orders?¡± one guard said over the intercom.


    ¡°The external guard isn¡¯t enough. We¡¯re arming all the greys in case more invaders get through the vault door.¡±


    ¡°Jesus, really?¡± The guard thumbled at his computer. ¡°Hold on, just confirming with admin.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no time,¡± Blue-cap said, but he was ignored.


    ¡°Greys are on their way,¡± the guard said over the intercom. His tone had changed, less friendly. ¡°Stay there Gary. We can see the others on the cameras. The contaminate is with you, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a survivor,¡± Blue-cap said. ¡°There¡¯s more like him. The world isn¡¯t dead. It¡¯s alive! We should be out there too in the naked sunlight, living our lives free of tyranny.¡±


    The guards inside their post stared out of the window at Blue-cap. They looked sad, as though they had been somehow let down. Not angry, like Andy had expected them to be, upon learning that their fellow vault dweller was mutineering. Just depressed. That intrigued Andy, but it was about to change.


    He drew Julie, feeling the throng of his Augmentation¡¯s powers rumble in his bones, and took aim on the window. The power came to him willingly, building in his feet, filtering up his legs, into his hips. He held onto the power for as long as he could.


    ¡°Blue-cap,¡± he said, jaw rattling with the power accumulation. ¡°Cover your ears.¡±


    Julie shook in his grip¨Cshe was ecstatic. Andy felt the rush within himself, they escalated together until the power was too catastrophic to contain.


    Julie erupted in his hands.

 Chapter 49 - Predator

    The Bottleneck Vortex warped the air as it smashed into the window. A boom rang throughout the vault, shaking the walls. Slabs of reinforced glass cracked free of the frame and crashed to the floor as a hole widened in its centre. Andy could not see the guards inside, either they had died, or fled. Andy focussed his will, imagining the tight beam of the Bottleneck Vortex shot widening. The feeling of energy flowed through him more evenly, filling his arms and legs as it built to a climax. Pulling Julie¡¯s trigger again, Andy strode towards the window and fired a standard Vortex shot, the wide area of effect shattering what remained of the broken glass, leaving a hole in the guardpost wall where the window had once been.


    An alarm sounded. The lights overhead dimmed, joined by spinning red sirens. Andy wasted no time climbing through the opening into the cluttered office space beyond. The guards had left in a hurry, kicking over a desk chair in their haste which now lay in the doorway, wheels spinning. Andy peeked through the open door into the armoury beyond. He could hear footsteps and whispering in the dark room. Andy crept in, but did not turn his headlamp on¨Cthat would only reveal his position and provide a beacon for the guards to shoot at, assuming they had armed themselves already. His eyes adjusted faster than he¡¯d expected in the dim red emergency lighting, assisted by LED lights blinking in the ceiling and a dimly lit sign above each of three doors. The room was lined with lockers. One was open to contain combat apparel. There were riot shields stacked in a row, truncheons on a rack, and a cabinet of tasers, but none of the good stuff Andy was looking for. A sign above a door at the back of the room read ¡®Military Stock¡¯. Bingo.


    There was shouting outside. Somebody screamed, their voice heavy with anger and hysteria, rather than pain. The shouting went back and forth until a gunshot rang out, and the vault dwellers exchanged gunfire for words.The ¡®Greys¡¯ must have arrived, and Blue-cap¡¯s men were engaging them. That left the armoury all to Andy, once the guards hiding inside were dealt with.


    Andy¡¯s head snapped around as he heard shuffling to his right. He scanned the darkness, but the crackle of gunfire outside masked the sound. Somebody jumped out at him. Andy spun on the man and fired Julie, blowing a chunk out of his shoulder. The man collided with him, knocking Andy off balance. Sparks flew in the corner of his eyes. Andy turned, but was too late. Something struck him in the head. His body spasmed, fingers clenched. Julie went off in his hands. Andy hit the deck, his vision blurry. Clara had zapped him like that before with her new Augmented powers. He must have been tased.


    Jumping to his feet, Andy held Julie close to his hip, searching for his attacker. Something stabbed him and filled his body with electricity. Andy clutched at the pain, wrenching taser¡¯s barbs free and darted around the corner of a locker, but realised too late that he had dropped Julie. Due to his Combat Conceptualisation skill, he knew exactly where she was, but it didn¡¯t help, because coming around the corner of the lockers was a muscular man, older than him, with a bat in one hand and a riot shield in the other. At the tip of the bat, white hot electricity danced between two metal teeth. The guard snarled.


    Andy held his hand out to Julie, calling upon their Fatal Attraction, summoning her to him. She flickered across the floor and knocked into the guard¡¯s boot. He glanced down, then booted her away.


    ¡°Nobody kicks my Julie!¡± Andy drew his dagger and got stuck in. Leaping at the heavy-set guard, Andy bounced off his shield like a gangly gazel as the man slammed him against the locker and jabbed him in the stomach with the electrical baton. Andy¡¯s brain short-circuited, but somehow instinctively, he managed to get a grip on the baton¡¯s shaft and wriggle free of the taser end. The guard battered Andy with his riot shield, catching him under the chin, dizzying him. Andy tried to stab the man in the neck, but couldn¡¯t get around the shield. Kicking and ducking, Andy squirmed free as the big man swung wildly in the dark. Andy tried to dash past him to get at Julie, but the guard must have read Andy¡¯s thoughts, because he stopped swinging and took a few steps backwards, standing between them.


    ¡°Give up mate. You¡¯re trapped. Can¡¯t get through either of them doors without this armband. Your mates outside are fucked. The greys¡¯ll get them.¡± The guard pointed his baton at Andy. Sparks singed the air between them. ¡°You¡¯re going down mate. You¡¯re going in a hole for the rest of your life.¡±


    All Andy had was an assortment of knives. After everything he¡¯d been through, all the monsters he¡¯d killed and hordes of zombies he¡¯d faced, it seemed ludicrous to lose here to one bloke with a cattle prod and a good workout regime. Andy was nothing without his guns. He needed to get to Julie, he didn¡¯t want to get locked up inside a vault prison. If that happened, he didn¡¯t have much faith in ever getting out. Andy wasn¡¯t afraid of death, but imprisonment terrified him.


    Andy mustered his Augmentation¡¯s powers, the familiar metallic taste bursting like a cherry in his mouth. Although the tools were different, the principles were the same, weren¡¯t they? Unsheathing his boot knife, he threw it at the guard wrist, just above the padding of his glove. He didn¡¯t wait to see if the knife had hit. Charging forward, Andy leapt through the air knee-frist into the guard¡¯s riot shield. Stabbing wildly, Andy aimed for the man¡¯s throat, but his knife glanced off the protective padding of his grey jumpsuit. Andy¡¯s knife was blunt! Clara¡¯s face popped into his mind, chiding him for not maintaining his gear.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The guard punched him in the temple. Andy flinched, raising his arm to defend, but got punched again and again, twice in the gut, lowering his arm, then once more in the temple. Pretty quickly, he was missing the bite of the prod¡¯s electricity. Fingers crawled over his throat. A primal panic struck Andy. He stuck his forearm into the crook of the guard¡¯s elbow and pried the hand free, then before the man could punch him again, grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in. Andy wrapped his leg around the guard¡¯s knee and they both fell to the floor, Andy beneath him.


    Clawing and tearing at his clothing, Andy exposed the man¡¯s thick neck. An impulse swelled inside him. Something primitive, tainted. His hangover was excruciating. His head pounded. He needed to drink, but not even booze could satisfy his urges. Andy¡¯s nostrils flared at the man¡¯s scent¨Chis sweat, his blood gushing through the arteries of his neck, bulging with strain. Andy could feel the man¡¯s heart beat pound against his chest so rapid, so potent. Andy¡¯s mouth opened, his tongue flickered, tasting the air, as he arched his back towards his prey.


    Biting down, Andy wrapped his skinny limbs around the bigger man and clenched his jaw, drawing the life force from his body. The man screamed and pulled back, but Andy held on tightly. His blood tasted exquisite, like wine, and not the cheap sort Andy used to knock back as a kid. His blood was thick, juicy and sweet, with undertones of oak and spicy nutmeg notes. The man¡¯s scream faded to a quiet groan as the fight started to leave him. With a final desperate effort, he tried to stand, but he clung to him like a tick. Collapsing, the man went limp, breathing heavily, wide eyes gazing into nothing. The more Andy drank, the softer the man¡¯s heartbeat became, until it fluttered to a stop.


    Andy untangled himself and sat against the locker, wiping his lips. The room spun drunkenly as he panted, feeling his headache subside. The heady rush of pleasure soon passed, and Andy was left with the taste of salt on his lips and another man¡¯s blood in his mouth. His stomach churned. Andy bent over and vomited up red bile. Gagging, he crawled across the floor to retrieve Julie, then threw up again.


    What had he done?


    He could feel the other man¡¯s blood inside him. It was disgustingly intimate. Andy vomited again, chunks of vegetables from his afternoon meal coming up, clotted with blood. He stood upright and leant against the wall, washing the taste out of his mouth with a gulp of scotch from his hip flask. A conflict of feelings sloshed in his gut, sweeping through his arms and tickling his brain. He felt gross, but at the same time, energised like never before. Powerful, lean. A predator. The metallic aftertaste of blood was eerily similar to that of his Augmentation. It was as though the two were combining, curdling in his stomach, a cocktail of powers.


    The light of a flashlight pierced the dark room. Andy slunk back into the shadows between the lockers, willing himself unseen. He needed time to think and process these new feelings without interruptions. Besides, he felt a little embarrassed by what he¡¯d just done. Sucking a man to death¡­ it wasn¡¯t exactly his style.


    Andy¡¯s black leather jacket was like a veil of darkness, soaking in light. His long hair curtained his face, drawing the shadow about him like a blanket. Blue-cap entered the room with the blonde-moustache soldier. He shone his flashlight around the room, then gasped as the beam landed on the body of the first guard Andy had killed.


    Blue-cap cursed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too late, sir,¡± his comrade said, heading to the reinforced door. ¡°They stood between us.¡±


    Blue-cap remained still, shining his torch upon the second body. ¡°Carl?¡± he said. ¡°Andy?¡±


    Andy remained still, observing them from the shadows. Blue-cap staggered towards the large doors leading to the vault main and leaned on the wall. He talked to himself softly, fists clenched, then opened the outer door and vault dwellers streamed in. Andy could see perfectly in the dim red siren light spinning in the tunnel outside. Blue-cap¡¯s uprising was in full swing, but Andy kept to the corner of the room, focussing on the waves of sensation flooding his body. Each wash heightened his senses. The nerve endings in his armpits and groin tingled painfully. He felt dizzy, overwhelmed, but remained still, simply observing.


    Mutation adaptation complete. He didn¡¯t recognise his AI¡¯s voice at first. It was the first time in days since his AI had talked to him unprompted. The feminine tone had returned, but with a deep silky quality to it. Delineation Hitman has been modified to suit invasive genetic alterations. New delineation termed: Predator. Subsequent abilities upgraded. Recalibrate at an Augmentation Master Console to complete synthesis.


    ¡°Hello again,¡± Andy murmured, then something caught his attention in the dark. A patch of shadow on the nearby wall, unaffected by the siren light. The darkness clung to the walls like grime, swallowing the white ceramic surface beneath it¨Ca transformative void. Andy squinted. The darkness rippled before him, as though disturbed by the attention of his eyes. Something primal told him that the object was familiar, like in the seconds before sleep, when his mind wandered beyond its limits, and the guiding hand of consciousness fled, there loomed a blight in the dark. Patient. How long had it been stalking him? Andy could not tell. Days? Weeks? Booze blurred his perception of time, but suddenly witnessing the shadowy form in the dim light of consciousness, Andy knew that it was no illusion, and it had not always been with him.


    Andy held his pale hand out to catch the red light of the siren. The shadow it cast was blotchy, and with each rotation of the siren, the shadow grew more disfigured. It was larger than his hand, and swelling in size. A chill swept through Andy upon the sudden realisation. He was not alone. The parasite was coming out of him¡­ out of hiding.

 Chapter 50 - Contamination

    They had talked themselves hungry. Clara was sitting at one end of a long dining table, sampling vault cuisine. In attendance were seven of the vault dweller¡¯s highest administrators, as well as two enforcers armed with tasers. At the opposite end sat the Head Honcho, an older man with a wrinkled face and bushy black eyebrows. Slicked black hair receding over his scalp like seaweed combed by the tide. It was difficult to tell his age, Clara was used to counting a person¡¯s scars. But all of the members of the Honcho¡¯s staff seated with them were unblemished, except for the head of security: a stern looking woman named Gloria who wore a black eyepatch. However, Clara surmised that the eyepatch must be due to a recent injury, as even she had admitted to having never faced the horrors of the apocalypses.


    As the Head Honcho told it, the occupants of the vault named ¡®Alpine Vaults¡¯ had all gone underground years before the cataclysm, fearing nuclear war, keeping the vault door open while they took their time to integrate into subterranean life. When the cataclysm occurred, they wasted no time shutting their doors and locking themselves inside. Their communications with the outside world failed not long after that, and they were left in the dark, or so the Honcho claimed.


    Clara took a sip of water. She had been told it came from a reservoir which ran through the vault¡¯s water treatment centre, and tasted as fresh as any mountain stream she¡¯d tasted.


    ¡°Quadra is the largest nearby settlement that I know of,¡± she explained. ¡°It is run by four tribes who came together to work in unison, each looking after a different division of society and building a safe haven for the people behind its walls. Outside the settlement is farmland and hunting lodges. It¡¯s a dangerous line of work, but profitable. People need food. Quadra is a key trading hub too. It attracts scavengers from all across the wasteland. That¡¯s how Andy and I found the settlement originally, we were accompanying a trade caravan.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± the Head Honcho stopped her, holding out his hand. ¡°There¡¯s trade outside?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, quite a lot. Ammo, food, tech, information. Don¡¯t get me wrong, there¡¯s a lot of dangerous people out there. I¡¯ve worked for some of them. But the leader of Quadra, Old Blue Eyes, is different. He¡¯s¡­¡± Clara took a breath. ¡°He¡¯s a good leader. A good man, I think. He wants what¡¯s best for the world. Stability.¡± It was a bitter pill to swallow, given how Clara had burned ties with Blue Eyes and his gang of Harmonies. But perhaps she could hope for reconciliation yet. If she acted as an envoy for the vault dwellers, perhaps he would forgive her failure and theft.


    ¡°What of the apocalypses?¡± one of the officers asked. He wore a pale red jumpsuit and thin rimmed glasses. What was his name again? Clara had been introduced to each of the attendants, but had struggled to remember all their names. ¡°Are they still active? How dangerous are they?¡±


    The same question had been asked in many ways over the course of two hours. Clara was patient with the vault dwellers, afterall, it was a lot of information to take in at once. ¡°It varies,¡± she said. ¡°Some apocalypses ended after the first few weeks of the cataclysm, others stuck around. I¡¯ve heard of an unnatural storm in one region which covers the entire land. It has been raging for years now, swallowing other zones up with it. It will keep spreading until something stops it. That''s the saving grace of all of this destruction. It¡¯s only because all of the apocalypses happened all at once that they managed to cancel each other out. If not for that, the world would likely have been destroyed by one zombie apocalypse or one killer plague. In some cases, one apocalypse consumed another, took over its territory and grew stronger. That still happens now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± the head of engineering spoke. His name was Kyle, he wore a pastel yellow jumpsuit and had thick workman¡¯s hands. ¡°I don¡¯t quite understand. Are you saying these apocalypses are sentient? And what exactly counts as an apocalypse?¡±


    ¡°Good question,¡± Clara said. ¡°There are a lot of theories. Fact is, we still don¡¯t know.¡± She leant forward in her chair, jabbing her fingers to emphasise the point. ¡°Every apocalypse imaginable, happened. Think back to books and videos you saw before the cataclysm. If someone imagined it somewhere, then it happened on that day. I¡¯ve come across a lot of whacky apocalypses in my time, but it barely scratches the surface of what¡¯s out there in the world.¡±


    ¡°Do they still happen?¡± a short woman in pale-red asked. ¡°Is it dangerous?¡±


    ¡°It is dangerous, yes,¡± Clara said. ¡°But no, I haven¡¯t heard of any new apocalypses happen in the last eight years, just the old ones still going.¡±


    ¡°And sentience?¡± Kyle repeated. ¡°You mentioned mutants, are they¡­?¡±


    ¡°Some of them are,¡± Clara said. ¡°We fought a vampire recently. It talked to us, it was definitely sentient.¡±


    ¡°A vampire?¡± a man wearing blue overalls scowled. ¡°That¡¯s terrifying. It¡¯s almost unbelievable.¡±


    ¡°I suppose those are the kind of horror stories your companion is telling in the Habbitation Sector right now?¡± The Head Honcho scowled at her. ¡°I guess the secret is out.¡±


    So that¡¯s where Andy was. Clara¡¯s radio hadn¡¯t worked since he had left the Head Honcho¡¯s office over an hour ago. She wondered what he was getting up to, but was grateful he¡¯d made himself absent for this diplomatic meeting between the heads of staff. She only hoped that he wouldn¡¯t get into any trouble.


    ¡°It¡¯s not all so bad,¡± she continued. ¡°People find a way to survive. But not only that, civilisation is beginning to recover. There are cartographers who collect information about the apocalypse zones and draw up maps to help people navigate the world, and avoid the most dangerous parts. The terrain outside of this vault is extremely defensible. I could see a community thriving here. You clearly have advanced technology and means for sustainability.¡±


    ¡°You mentioned zones of apocalypses,¡± Gloria, the head of security, asked. ¡°What zone is above us?¡±


    Clara checked her wrist terminal, although she already knew the answer. ¡°It¡¯s marked as Fae Creatures. Think fairies, gnomes, goblins, that sort of stuff. Old folklore and nursery rhymes.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Kyle said. ¡°That stuff¡¯s real?¡±


    ¡°Erm, around here it is,¡± Clara circled the region displayed on her terminal. ¡°We encountered trolls in the mountains nearby. Not a huge threat, really. What you¡¯ve got to look out for is something like in Marsay.¡±


    Clara displayed her terminal for all to see, zooming in on the map location. The staff leaned towards her, squinting at the display. ¡°I was there recently. It¡¯s infested with zombies. Thousands of them, tens of thousands. But they¡¯re isolated, they won¡¯t leave the city unless they¡¯re drawn out. We encountered a cult on the road west of Marsay who used the zombies as a weapon. They drew them out of the city and herded them towards where we were staying inside a shopping centre. That¡¯s an example of how an apocalypse zone can change, expand or diminish.¡±


    The room was quiet. The Honcho¡¯s staff looked at one another, or down at their plates, deep in contemplation. Clara had let her excitement get ahead of her. She was at risk of overwhelming these sheltered folk with horror stories of the outside world. Until just a few hours ago, their society had believed that they were the last people on earth, safe from the desolation above. Clara and Andy had ruined that, shattered their perceptions of reality, and here she was bragging about taking on zombies and cults and demons. She needed to slow down, give them something positive to think about.


    ¡°Your community is clearly well run,¡± Clara continued. ¡°Tight knit. And I hear you have some military equipment in an armoury. Combined with our help, if you hired us, you could make quite an impression on the wasteland. With the technology you have here, if you wanted to open the doors and expand, I¡¯m sure you would be very affluent. You don¡¯t need to worry about the apocalypses, nothing surprises me and Andy anymore.¡±


    All heads turned to the Head Honcho. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that will never happen, Clara.¡±


    Clara bit her lip. Had she blabbed too much and scared them off? ¡°There¡¯s a lot to be gained from expanding onto the surface. You could keep your vault secured, but start trading with other settlements. I can hook you up.¡± Clara leaned forward, looking at each administrator in turn. ¡°Don¡¯t you miss the sunlight? Fresh air? Freedom? It¡¯s all still out there. Opportunity. We can help you expand. The world above is young. You might be the most powerful settlement¡­¡± Clara shook her head, searching for the words, ¡°on the continent. Your potential is enormous.¡±


    ¡°Our lighting systems simulate sunlight just fine,¡± the Honcho said grimly. ¡°We have vitamins and air recycling. We don¡¯t need the dangers of the outside world. It was a travesty that the door was ever opened.¡± The old man glared at Kyle, head of engineering. ¡°It shall not happen again.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to be afraid,¡± Clara said. ¡°The world¡¯s changed, but people are still going.¡±


    ¡°Are you old enough to remember the old world, Clara?¡± The Honcho¡¯s bushy eyebrows creased. ¡°It was a dangerous place even before the apocalypse. War and disease, the threat of nuclear annihilation. Economic collapse. Tyranny and rebellion. From what you¡¯ve told me, it has somehow gotten worse.¡±


    ¡°The worst of it is over,¡± Clara said. ¡°Humanity survived, and we¡¯re no longer on the brink. Some people want to rebuild-¡±


    ¡°Rebuild what?¡± the Honcho said. ¡°The same corrupt world, so that the same catastrophes happen again?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you decide?¡± Clara shook her head. ¡°You could be a part of the new world. You can¡¯t just stay down here forever.¡±


    ¡°We can do what we please,¡± Gloria said, fixing Clara with a cold stare.


    ¡°This vault has a predicted lifespan of nine-hundred years,¡± the Honcho said. ¡°It is state of the art, one of only three in the world. Just over eight years have passed since it was first inhabited. That leaves eight-hundred and ninety-two remaining years until we must repopulate the earth.¡±


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Eight-hundred years?¡± Clara said. ¡°The world will have repopulated itself by then, and the technology you have here will be nothing. You¡¯ll be like cavemen coming out of the ground.¡±


    ¡°Stop!¡± The Honcho stood up and slammed his hands on the table. ¡°Stop talking, or this insubordination will go on your record. I¡¯ll give you the benefit of the doubt, Clara. You do not know how we do things down here. You¡¯re uncivilised. A vagabond. However, I shall teach you how to live here, for it is my begrudging pleasure to inform you that you shan¡¯t be leaving our vault.¡±


    Clara froze in her chair. A chill sensation rushed up her spine as her Augmentation¡¯¡¯s artificial hormones seeped into her veins. Her skull prickled like static energy before a storm. Clara gripped the edge of her seat to stop herself jumping up. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°We cannot afford to have our wearabouts leaked to these tribes of barbarians that you talk about. However, I hesitate to execute you. We preserve life here in Alpine Vaults, not extinguish it, something which you must adapt to, as I am left with only one option¡­ to integrate you into our society.¡±


    Clara began to object, but the Head Honcho held up his finger. ¡°One thing, I must make clear. I do not yet invite you and your companion to contribute to our genestock. I don¡¯t care what types of friends you make in Habitation Sec, nor how lonely you become, bereaved of the outside world, you shan¡¯t be breeding, not until the requisite checks can be made of your DNA. I won¡¯t have my population corrupted.¡± The Honcho poured a glass of ice water from a glass jug. ¡°Speaking of your companion, where is he now, Gloria?¡±


    The woman with an eyepatch engaged her radio. ¡°Status on the contaminant''s whereabouts?¡± She smiled at Clara, spiteful and sharp, accented by the brick-red lipstick she wore.


    A strand of Clara¡¯s hair escaped her ponytail and rose on the static energy growing in her body. She had relinquished her submachine gun and sidearm to a security office before the administrative gathering had started. There were fewer firearms amongst the vault dwellers than she was used to seeing. The guards dressed in grey jumpsuits with red trim were all armed with tasers, not firearms. If the situation became violent, she would have to rely on her Augmentation¡¯s powers for the first time ever. Her nerves were laced with a virile power, urging her to act.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± she whispered to Ohm, assuming her AI was paying attention. The wash of adrenaline ebbed like a trigger half-pulled, ready to activate in a flash.


    ¡°This is habitation guard. Contaminate is not visible,¡± the radio sounded. ¡°He entered the kitchen''s elevator, escorted by the external guard.¡±


    ¡°Cameras. Hydroponics?¡± Gloria said.


    The radio buzzed, a new voice spoke. ¡°Contaminate was escorted through Hydroponics a few minutes ago. We didn¡¯t receive an update from them, but they¡¯re well armed. The contaminate shouldn¡¯t pose a threat.¡±


    ¡°Where are they now?¡±


    ¡°Inside the primary elevator. I assumed the external guard were transferring the contaminate to Admin Sec. One moment Ma¡¯am, incoming request.¡±


    The smile faded on Gloria¡¯s face. ¡°Stall the request. Revoke Officer Jones¡¯ access rights immediately.¡±


    ¡°Yes Ma¡¯am. Access revoked.¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re not welcome,¡± Clara said. ¡°Then we¡¯ll leave. No need to cause a fuss.¡±


    The Honcho shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s too late for that now. Gloria, status?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± the woman rose from the table. ¡°I¡¯ll see for myself what¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°External guard have requested access to the Level Four armoury,¡± the radio buzzed. ¡°Can you confirm?¡±


    ¡°Deny. Deny.¡± Gloria¡¯s voice cracked like a whip. ¡°Officer Jones is to be considered defected until I can confirm his intentions The external guard are to be considered compromised. Vault security shall be arriving shortly.¡± The door hissed and slid open and Gloria stormed out, her boots clanging off the metal walkway beyond.


    ¡°Trouble with your staff?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Trouble with our guests,¡± the Honcho quipped. ¡°Stephenson, detain this young lady.¡±


    A young enforcer posted by the doorway approached her. Clara stood to meet him, raising her hands. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t, Stepherson. I have magic hands.¡±


    ¡°Please miss.¡± The young man grabbed her wrist, forcefully, but not painfully. She wondered if he was showing restraint out of fear, or due to her being a woman. Clara pinched his hand below the knuckle, squeezing his thumb joint, and yanked his wrist across his body. Like lighting a fuse, the pressure she applied set off a chain of events through his body. Clara grabbed his elbow and twisted until it wrapped around her waist, gripping the nerve in his hand until he submitted to his knees.


    ¡°Stepherson, you wimp,¡± the Honcho shouted. ¡°Do your job properly, or not at all.¡±


    Kyle, the head engineer, strode around the table towards Clara, a businesslike expression on his hard face.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be violent.¡± Clara pushed the young guard to the floor and stepped back, raising her hands. ¡°I¡¯m not your enemy.¡±


    Kyle ignored her, grabbing her by the throat and slamming her against the wall. Something dug into Clara¡¯s back painfully. She kicked at Kyle¡¯s groin, but he was standing side-on, defending his vulnerability behind thick thighs.


    ¡°Submit, young lady,¡± he growled.


    Clara slapped the engineer in the ear, emitting a Thunderclap of electrical energy on impact. Kyle screamed and fell to his knees covering his ear. Clara punched him in the jaw for good measure. Sparks flew as her knuckle connected, knocking the big man on his back. She darted for the doorway, jamming the door panel, but it would not open for her. The administrators screamed and jumped out of their seats, then an arm wrapped around her neck. Reflexes kicked in. Clara pushed her tailbone into her attacker¡¯s hips, grabbed his arm and fell to one knee, throwing the man over her shoulder. He slammed into the doorway, arms and legs flailing. The security guard¡¯s armband must have scanned it while he was in flight, because the door panel blinked green and opened. His young face stared up at Clara from beneath her, eyes wide, expression shocked. Clara patted his cheek. ¡°Don¡¯t follow me.¡±


    Dashing out of the dining room, Clara fled down narrow corridors. Large rooms were visible behind windows, well decorated and well looked after. This was the council¡¯s sector of the vault¨Cthe upper echelons of their society. Clara followed signs on the ceiling until she reached the vault¡¯s main tunnel. At each end was an elevator¨Cone led to the surface, the other, deeper underground.


    ¡°Andy,¡± she radioed, stopping at the corner, but there was still no signal. If only she could get onto the vault¡¯s radio network, she could send him a message, ask him what was going on. It was that, or search for him on foot. There had to be a better way. She hadn¡¯t revealed the true extent of her Augmentation¡¯s powers yet, nor had she informed the council of Bulwark Project and its Augmented super soldiers; that was an ace she¡¯d kept up her sleeve, and clearly for good reason. Despite her victory over Kyle an the scrawny guard, she didn¡¯t fancy her odds against the entire vault security staff single handedly, magic hands or not.


    Clara had memorised the map in the Honcho¡¯s office while they chatted that afternoon. To her left down the tunnel were Security Stations, Observation and Prisons. She checked that the dimachaeron device which Gabriel had given her was still in her pocket. Perhaps it could help her hack the internal systems too.


    ¡°Hello, are you lost?¡± A woman in blue pastel overalls stopped beside her in the main tunnel. She was holding a small girl¡¯s hand. The child was wearing a matching overall rolled up at the ankles and sleeves where it was a little too baggy for her.


    ¡°Head Honcho¡¯s office?¡± Clara remembered the way, but felt obliged to answer the woman out of politeness.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just at the head of the High sec.¡± The woman pointed to Clara¡¯s right, down the tunnel, towards the exit elevator.


    ¡°Who is it?¡± the young girl asked.


    Clara looked into the girl¡¯s unflinching eyes. The child¡¯s expression was brilliantly honest; she had nothing to fear, and nothing to hide. Clara had forgotten what that looked like. ¡°My name is-¡± for a moment, Clara faltered.


    ¡°Stop, miss. Please.¡± The young guard from the council room had caught up, hobbling down the corridor after her. ¡°Backup is on its way. You are outnumbered. Lay down your arms.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m unarmed, idiot.¡± A clamour caught Clara¡¯s attention. Vault dwellers in grey jumpsuits and red armbands were running towards her from the Security sector, armed with riot gear. Clara ran in the opposite direction, following the signs towards the Head Honcho¡¯s office. She rounded a corner, recognising the route, and spotted the office ahead. Two double doors were set into the large alcove. Tall plants stood in pots beside the doorway, basking in the light of blue bulbs. Two guards were receiving orders from an officer wearing a military cap. The officer turned as Clara came into view. Gloria scowled. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be detained by now?¡±


    Shocked, Clara¡¯s hand went to her hip, feeling for a sidearm. But no, that wasn¡¯t necessary anymore. Charging forward, she summoned thunderous energy in her palms glowing with golden light. Gloria¡¯s eyes went wide, the sneer fell from her face and she raised her hands to fight. Clara clapped in her face, compressing the energy into a dense sphere, and pushed her palms outwards. The alcove flashed like searing thunder, blinding them.


    Clara ducked and swung a powerful punch from her hips, striking one of the guards in the temple. The other guard, she jabbed in the solar plexus, then kicked in the head as he bent over. With each strike, she discharged a little more electrical energy on impact. Every blow was cripplingly fast. She¡¯d never felt so powerful in her life.


    A hand grabbed her shoulder, sharp nails digging in. Clara spun on the woman, but something struck her in the chest. The object filled her with electricity. It was like being plunged into an ice bath. Her muscles rippled, her senses flooded with ecstasy. There was no pain or black spots in her vision. The taser only invigorated her. Clara punched the woman in the chest, detonating a Thunderclap, transferring all of the energy pent up inside her. Instead of just stunning the woman, the Thunderclap catapulted Gloria backwards across the alcove, sending her crashing into the vault wall where she slumped to the floor, breathing heavily and clutching her chest.


    Clara tore her armband off as Gloria watched her limply, eyes spinning in their sockets. Scanning it, the Honcho¡¯s office door hissed and opened. Clara grabbed the interior door panel and sent a shock of electricity through its system. The metal casing crackled and popped as the electronics fried. She skirted inside and closed it after her, locking it from the control panel inside. Just as the two doors were sealing in the centre, Clara caught glimpses of a troupe of guards coming into the alcove, shields and electrical rods at the ready. She turned on the Head Honcho¡¯s desk, searching for the administrative computer.


    ¡°Right then,¡± she said to herself, fishing the dimachaeron hacking tool out of her pocket. She scanned an upright monitor with the little domed device, watching and listening out of an affirmative beep or LED. ¡°Come on, work.¡± The Honcho¡¯s PC seemed to be built into the desk itself. A second terminal framed in a glass panel covered half of the desk¡¯s oak wood surface. The keyboard was fixed into a roll-out draw. There was no obvious electronic casing or ports. It was one solid system, however a knot of cables running from underneath the desk into the floor gave her a clue.


    Unsheathing her knife, Clara stabbed her way through the glass panel covering the inbuilt monitor. Guards banged on the door, shouting threats, their voices dulled by the tight seal. How long would it hold once they got a crowbar between the joints? Could she chop her way through the oak desk to the computer inside and hack it before they broke in? And what was Andy doing, galavanting around with vault security, visiting the armoury? She had a pretty good guess. Clara grumbled, thinking of what she¡¯d say once she gained access to the vault¡¯s comms.


    Bracing her back, Clara lifted the heavy desk and toppled it on its side, revealing its underbelly. An odd colouration separated two slabs of wood, the grains of which did not match. The cables fed through a hole beside it, possibly a weakness in the design. That¡¯s where she¡¯d start chopping.

 Chapter 51 - Plodder

    Most of Gabriel¡¯s paints had dried up. He sat at his desk beneath the orange light of his lamp, scraping some of the dry paint into a mixing pot. Next, he added warm water, a drop of PVA glue and a sprinkle of plaster cement, careful not to get any on his baggy Hawaiian shirt. The mixture¡¯s resulting colouration was a little thinner than the original paint, but it would serve the purpose. Dabbing some of the upcycled white paint on one of his fine detail brushes, Gabriel ran the bristles over the garden gnome¡¯s eyes. He kept this brush in good condition, rarely using it except for important tasks, such as finishing touches.


    He had salvaged the garden gnome a couple years ago while scavenging for supplies in a nearby mountain village. Something about the chubby figurine had called out to him¨Cit was unlike the other models he collected and restored for his display cabinet, but had a certain old-world charm. The gnome had been covered in thick black paint, like tar. It had taken Gabriel months to scrape away the blotchy paint, wash it in paint-stripper solution and sand down the edges. Though, to be told, the task hadn¡¯t been exceptionally time consuming, Gabriel was simply a professional procrastinator. What was the rush? He had a dozen models to repair and repaint, a hundred computer circuit boards to re-solder and re-wire, and stacks of books to read, and not much reason to do any of it other than to kill time. They weren¡¯t going anywhere, and neither was he.


    Licking his brush, he re-loaded it and painted the second eye, checking one of his many monitors for the video feed of the vault door, set into the mountainside beyond the highway. The video feed had been quiet ever since the two mercenaries, Andy, and the beautiful Clara, had stepped inside, and it had closed after them. Gabriel was keen to inspect what they recovered from the vault, and hoped it would be enough to pay off his debt to them. As much as he relished the company of a strong, intelligent, sexy, independent woman in his bunker, Clara¡¯s brother was not so pleasant. In fact, he was vulgar, dangerous, and Gabriel was not ashamed to admit, a little intimidating.


    Gabriel shivered at the memory of Andy. The man had carried a dark aura around with him. It was the sort of bad luck which Gabriel did not need. But what else could he do? Because of that stupid distress signal, they now knew where he lived, and were willing to sabotage his vault and smoke him out in order to extort him. Like with any bully, Gabriel had a tried and true procedure: put up with the abuse and give them what they wanted until they left him alone.


    Shaking his head, Gabriel returned his attention to the gnome in his hands. The porcelain model was classic, and so the paint job Gabriel had given it reflected that. A bright red hat drooped over the gnome¡¯s glowing chubby pink cheeks, propped up by its thick eyebrows framing two wide eyes. Its little mouth made an O shape, as if the gnome was shocked or embarrassed at something it had seen. Gabriel had used wraith-blue paint for the waistcoat and a forest-green for the jacket; the shorts were auburn-red and his little wellies were chaos-black. Gabriel had left some of the tar-like residue on the bottoms of the gnome¡¯s boots to give the authentic effect that it had been wading through mud.


    Gabriel lay the model down on its back and cleaned his brush. The gnome¡¯s arms and legs were sprawled out, making it impossible for the model to stand up on its own. A bit of a design floor which only made the model more unique and valuable. Loading the very tip of his fine detailed brush with black paint, Gabriel planted his elbows on his desk and held the gnome as steadily as he could, then dotted the whites of each eye. Adding the pupils made all the difference. The transformation was miraculous. Where once was a soulless porcelain imitation, now lay a real life garden gnome, seemingly in possession of thoughts and feelings. Gabriel gazed at the gnome¡¯s expression. He had not before witnessed the distress on the little guy¡¯s face, but now it plain as day. The gnome floundered, as though drowning. He wasn¡¯t just embarrassed or shocked¡­ he was terrified.


    A notification pinged on Gabriel¡¯s desktop. He opened the tab and scowled. A satellite tower was attempting to make contact with his network using one of his own ID tags. It could be a hacker, or some sort of cyber-apocalyptic force trying to break into his mainframe, or it could be something else. Intrigue got the better of him. Gabriel checked that his system¡¯s defences were operational and accepted the request. His adrenaline spiked as his activity log was flooded with information, scanning the data, half expecting an attack, ready for a war. But the script halted before any breach was made, leaving only one programme blinking in his task manager. Gabriel opened the software and grinned. It was his home-brewed dimachaeron interfacing programme. It had gained remote access to some sort of network, presumably the vault¡¯s mainframe. That meant the vault must still have power. He expanded the vault¡¯s network before him, fingers clacking on his keyboard like a madman, igniting his virus software like a wildfire, consuming every modem and node in the vault¡¯s system. Their netcode was so out of date, they didn¡¯t stand a chance.


    Windows flashed frantically on his screen. Quickly, he compartmentalised them, spreading the information over his array of monitors. Suspense seized Gabriel as he watched the loading bars climb. New information was popping up every second like muzzle flashes in a firefight. He had to admit, the user interference of his software left something to be desired, but he was familiar with the chaos.


    Gabriel leaned in close to his central monitor, eyes darting around like an automated turret, pinpointing targets. Waves of information crashed into his system, but Gabriel was able to spot the important details, with his background understanding of the vault¡¯s blueprints. He had been studying for this moment¨Cyears of work flashed before his eyes¨Cconstructing a network map of the vault. The vault¡¯s video feeds and radio networks were putting up a bit of a fight, but he already had gained access to written records, a list of what software and hardware was installed, what items were in the vault¡¯s stockade, how many personnel it housed¡­


    Personnel. Gabriel focussed on the feed, expanding the habitation database. The most recent record was written just one-hundred and seventy four hours ago: ¡®Mrs McLain gives birth to the McLain family¡¯s primary child. Boy. Twenty pounds. Mole McLain.¡¯


    Gabriel sat back in his chair with such a force that it rolled across the floor. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. The vault was occupied. Clara and Andy likely wouldn¡¯t be able to salvage anything from inside. His debt would not be repaid.


    Suddenly, the warring software raging on a battlefield of networks seemed far less exciting than before. Perhaps he could still get something out of it, at the very least, he wouldn¡¯t be bored so long as he remained lodged in the vault¡¯s network. Perhaps he could manipulate their systems¨Csurplant their leader, instate himself as some sort of god¨Chis very own resource strategy game with real-life consequences. But, that would be evil, wouldn¡¯t it? So maybe not that exactly¡­ He¡¯d think of something else, something cool.


    Gabriel was so focussed on the monitors that he hardly noticed when something moved in his periphery. He froze, staring at the porcelain gnome. Slowly, the figure retracted its outstretched flailing limbs, pulling them into its chest, hugging itself in a ball. Gabriel blinked, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. That couldn¡¯t be possible. Was he going insane? The figure was still again, but lay in the foetal position. It had definitely been poised in a star shape before, right? Definitely.


    Gabriel prodded the gnome. It rocked slightly, but did not move. He stood up from his desk, hand over his mouth, and scanned his bunker for a weapon. Grabbing a tennis racket which he sometimes used to hit balls against the wall, Gabriel stood a good distance from the gnome, waiting for it to move again. Above the gnome, his monitors flickered as software windows layered on top of one another, pulsating with priority information, running strings of code which sparked briefly before closing themselves. The frantic window flashes cast the gnome in dazzling light like a silent storm. The gnome¡¯s face was turned away from the array, swathed in shadow. There was a sound, like the whimper of a small, frightened animal, then the gnome rolled onto its belly and rose to its feet.


    Gabriel shook with terror, as time slipped by dizzyingly-slow. He raised his tennis racket, ready to swat the gnome to death if it posed a threat. The chubby porcelain figure straightened its jacket and looked up at the array of monitors. The cone of its hat drooped as it looked upwards, suddenly animate as though someone had turned on the creature¡¯s physics engine. The gnome turned and startled when it saw Gabriel. The two stared at each other for a moment, then the gnome wet its lips and spoke.


    ¡°Where am I? Is this¡­ the bottom of the pond?¡± Its voice was high and congested as though it was speaking with a cold, yet with a pleasant resonant rasp, like a brass instrument. ¡°I had hoped that, in my death, my mourning would finally lay itself to rest. And yet, it persists. Shall I never know peace? Why has such suffering befallen me?¡± The gnome bowed its head, little red hat falling over its face.


    A million questions raced through Gabriel¡¯s mind, but none of them could break through the mayhem and surface on his lips.


    ¡°I see that I have stricken you with fear,¡± the gnome went on. ¡°It was never my intention, and for such, I apologise¡± The gnome¡¯s voice stuttered. Its eyes glistened as though someone had just applied a fresh layer of gloss. ¡°Furthermore, you have my deepest apologies for this intrusion of mine. I assure you, it was an accident, and I shan¡¯t trouble you any longer.¡±


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The gnome bowed its chin to its chest and hiccuped. Wiping its eyes, it toddled towards the desk¡¯s edge, then took a step into space and fell towards the concrete floor.


    A vision of the gnome''s delicate porcelain form shattering sprung in Gabriels mind. Before he knew it, he¡¯d dropped his racket and dove towards his desk, hands outstretched. Gabriel landed hard on his chest, wincing in pain, but caught the gnome in both hands. Its eyes were screwed shut, expression contorted, bracing for a fatal impact.


    Gradually, the gnome opened its eyes. The two of them stared at one another from centimetres away. ¡°Please,¡± the gnome said. ¡°It is my wish to die.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s wrong. I won¡¯t let you.¡±


    ¡°I have lost everything. Everyone. I should not be here.¡±


    ¡°None of us should.¡± Gabriel said. ¡°None of us.¡±


    Getting to his feet, Gabriel placed the gnome back on his desk and sat in his chair. Suddenly, the cacophony of information on his computer monitors seemed inconsequential. Trivial. Here was a being in pain, and Gabriel''s heart ached at its suffering.


    ¡°Why am I here?¡± the gnome asked.


    ¡°I was restoring you.¡± Gabriel pointed at the brushes. ¡°Painting you. I just finished repainting your eyes.¡±


    The little gnome looked up at Gabriel, its simple black-dotted pupils like those of a child, transfixed on the profound. A light glittered inside the gnome¡¯s eyes like a faint star in the night¡¯s sky, the spark of consciousness, the gift of life.


    ¡°The kindness of your heart must have restored me,¡± the gnome said. ¡°I am in your debt.¡± Tugging its hat off its head, black curls bounced before its face. Gabriel hadn¡¯t painted the hair beneath its hat¨Chadn''t even seen it on the model. How was that possible?


    The gnome bowed its head once more. ¡°How can I ever repay you for this gift?¡±


    Gabriel placed his finger gently beneath its chin and raised its head. He smiled. ¡°Tell me your name.¡±


    ¡°Plodder,¡± the gnome said.


    Plucking the hat from his hands, Gabriel placed it back on Plodder¡¯s head and patted the little gnome¡¯s dome. ¡°I¡¯m Gabriel. It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±


    Something buzzed beneath Gabriel¡¯s desk. ¡°One moment,¡± he said, fetching the device from beneath a pile of clutter. It was an old radio transceiver which he¡¯d forgotten he had, still plugged into his network. It was picking up a transmission. Gabriel hefted the device onto his desk, blew the dust off it and accepted the relay. Unhooking the handset, he cleared his throat and held down send. ¡°This is Gabriel speaking. Who am I talking to?¡±


    Radio static assailed him. Voices stabbed at him, breaking up and cutting off. Opening the associative software, he realised that he was transmitting a signal to the entire vault, and all of the security personnel on the frequency. Gabriel¡¯s virus had since completed its invasion of the vault¡¯s security cameras. Muting the radio, he opened their video feeds and searched for Clara.


    Plodder pulled up a roll of duct tape on his desk and sat on it, observing Gabriel¡¯s hands at work. ¡°What are you doing? Creating music? Clickety-clack.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m controlling the monitors,¡± Gabriel said. ¡°It¡¯s a computer. Do you know computers?¡±


    Plodder shook his head. ¡°Not in my world. This is new to me.¡±


    ¡°Watch. Let me show you.¡± Gabriel pointed with his finger at the video feeds. He had dedicated one monitor each to the display of the Admin, Hydroponics and Habitation sectors¨Cthey seemed to be the most important. The remaining sectors, Life Support and Power, were much smaller, and each feed fitted on one large forty-two inch monitor above his head. ¡°Here I can see a video from inside a vault. Look. There are many different cameras. I can switch between them.¡±


    ¡°What is a video?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ looking through somebody else¡¯s eyes.¡±


    ¡°Do the videos mind you using their eyes?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s what they¡¯re built for. They are machines, tools built by humans.¡±


    ¡°Fascinating.¡±


    Gabriel clicked through the video feeds, searching for Clara or Andy. They would stand out, being the only people in the vault not wearing pastel coloured overalls. There were dozens of occupants in Admin Sec, and hundreds in Habitation. A long way from being deserted, as he had assumed. As he clicked through the feeds, Gabriel began to develop a sense for what was happening down there. Inside Habitation Sector, a group was gathering in a cafeteria, but they weren''t eating, they were just standing around. There was some pushing and shoving. One man stood atop a table shouting while another group chased away two others, shouting and kicking at them. Gabriel didn¡¯t have any sound on the video feed, but the sense of unrest was evident.


    Gabriel flicked through Hydroponics Sector, but it was relatively quiet. Admin Sec was where the action was at. A group of men wearing grey overalls with red armbands were trying to pry a door open with a crowbar. They were armed with riot gear¨Carmour, shields and batons. All around the sector, people were running from station to station. Gabriel flicked to the observation bay, smiling at the ruin he had sewn there. One man was transfixed on his computer screen mid-way through tearing his hair out with his hands. Another was pacing about the room, flinging his arms around, dashing over to the PC to inspect the network¡¯s collapse. By now, Gabriel''s virus would have invaded their root directory, spreading its poison into their system¡¯s very BIOS and hardware itself. He considered sending a direct transmission to the techies in the observation station, gloating over his victory, but that would be cruel.


    Focussing on the guards in the vault¡¯s main tunnel, Gabriel clicked on the room beyond. The camera feed showed a lavishly decorated room with a desk in the centre, flipped on its side. A woman crouched behind the desk, knife in her hand. Her combat jacket had fallen off her shoulder. Blonde hair poked through the back of her baseball-style cap in a ponytail. Gabriel¡¯s heart fluttered. ¡°That¡¯s Clara.¡±


    ¡°Is she your friend?¡± Plodder asked.


    ¡°Erm, sort of.¡± Gabriel isolated the communications transmission to target the intercom inside the room labelled as the ¡®Head Honcho¡¯s Office¡¯ on the video feed. ¡°Hello Clara. Do you hear me?¡±


    Clara jumped up from behind her desk, swivelling around, searching for the sound.


    ¡°I¡¯m on the intercom,¡± Gabriel said. ¡°I cannot hear you, but follow my instructions, and I soon can¡­ soon shall, I mean. Erm, anyway¡­ key your radio into thirty-point-eight. I will code it into the vault¡¯s system.¡±


    He watched Clara configure her radio, then a request popped onto his interface. He connected the radio to the vault¡¯s network, adding its partner radio as well¨Cpresumably Andy¡¯s.


    ¡°Hello?¡± Clara¡¯s voice came through. Her tone was firm and lyrical, like the hoot of an owl. ¡°Do you read?¡±


    ¡°Loud and clear,¡± Gabriel grinned. ¡°Although, there seems to be a delay of approximately two seconds on the transmission.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck is Andy doing down there?¡±


    ¡°Hey sis.¡± Andy¡¯s voice rasped over the static.


    ¡°Where are you?¡± Clara said. ¡°Security is after you.¡±


    Andy held the button down on his radio for a good few seconds before answering. In the background, Gabriel could hear people yelling. He searched through his video feeds, trying to locate the mercenary. ¡°Level four. Life Support Sector¡­¡± Andy chuckled over the line. ¡°Well, not anymore. I found the armoury.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t do anything drastic,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Bit late for that,¡± Andy said. Gabriel corresponded the transmission to his location, but still couldn¡¯t see him. Four cameras covered all corners of the armoury¡¯s largest room. It was filled with lockers and riot gear. Vault dwellers were raiding the stocks, pointedly avoiding one isle where two bodies lay stiff and dead. ¡°Also, there¡¯s something here.¡±


    ¡°Something what?¡±


    Gabriel squinted. The light was dim. Red sirens span in their fixings. Gabriel remotely accessed the nearby security station and halted the siren lights, turning off the alarm system and restoring bright light to the room. The video feed glitched¨Cfor a moment it appeared as though a patch of darkness on the walls remained, then the video feed caught up, and the black spot was gone. Andy stood in one corner. At first, the pixels around his form were fuzzy and distorted, then the effect faded.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome for the light,¡± Gabriel said.


    ¡°Who is this?¡± Andy asked.


    ¡°Gabriel.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Gabriel. You were in my bunker yesterday.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t recall.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Kid with the flowery shirt?¡±


    ¡°Let me think, what was it?¡± Gabriel paused for effect, but he hadn¡¯t needed to. He¡¯d been wearing the same shirt for weeks now. ¡°I believe it was hummingbirds and honeysuckle, one of my favourites.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Andy said. ¡°You turned the lights on?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve hacked into the vault¡¯s system. I have control over everything.¡±


    ¡°Right. Nice job. Keep those lights on honeyboy.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Gabriel.¡±


    The video feed flashed white for a second, then the spot above Andy¡¯s head appeared darker than before.


    ¡°Shit, you do that?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°No, I swear!¡±


    ¡°I said keep the lights on.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t touch anything!¡± Another bulb burst inside the armoury, then another.


    Andy dashed out of the camera¡¯s view. ¡°Clara, we¡¯ve got a problem.¡±

 Chapter 52 - Mice Under the Floorboards

    The rich air stung Andy¡¯s nostrils as he tried to calm himself. His head swam, inundated with excess power. The blood stuck to his throat, staining his thoughts with more primal urge, but he had nothing to wash the taste out. Now, more than ever, he needed a drink.


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me,¡± Clara radioed. ¡°The Honcho wants to arrest us.¡±


    Another bulb exploded above his head. The darkness about him expanded like a storm cloud.


    ¡°No,¡± Andy radioed. ¡°I mean, a problem.¡±


    The radio crackled. He heard Clara breathing on the other end. ¡°Ah, shit.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± the third voice said over the room¡¯s intercom. ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    Andy ignored him. Like in a dream, he drifted towards the back of the armoury, through the doorway, into the military-grade section. Unslinging the rucksack which Clara had made him bring for salvage, Andy started filling his pockets with ammunition. The vault¡¯s military-grade armoury was smaller than he had hoped, and much of its stock had already been pilfered by the vault dwellers-turned-revolutionaries. Andy could feel their eyes on him as he assessed the two remaining short-barrel assault rifles in the gun rack. They were pristine black, likely never used before. He¡¯d soon change that.


    About a dozen revolutionaries were crowded together in the small armoury, chatting to one another. Blue-cap tried to get Andy¡¯s attention to ask him a question, but Andy ignored him. They weren¡¯t important, so long as they didn¡¯t get in his way. Hurriedly, Andy filled his rucksack with as many boxes of ammunition he could carry, then latched two straps to the assault rifles and slung one over each shoulder.


    Looking up, Andy saw Blue-cap right in his face. ¡°What do you say?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re on our side, right? You¡¯ve helped us get this far. Help us escape, and we¡¯ll reward you however we can.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, erm.¡± Andy sniffed, loading each rifle with a magazine and chambering a round. ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Then we go straight to Admin,¡± Blue-cap announced to the room. ¡°We take the stairs so that the Honcho cannot interfere with the elevators. We storm the office, seize his access card and open the vault door.¡±


    The revolutionaries responded with a pitter-patter of ¡°Yeah¡±¡¯s. The light above the exit doorway flickered and went out.


    ¡°Today, we finally see sunlight again!¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± the room responded more excitedly. One woman near the exit started yelling and screaming. She must have been really excited, Andy thought. But as he turned to her, she collapsed, a bloody gash across her face. She dropped her rifle and started kicking at the air. Above her, a jagged shadow crawled over the dimly lit wall like a spider. One limb peeled free and rose to the low ceiling, sharpened like a spear, poised to strike.


    Andy took a step backwards as the revolutionaries scurried away from the shadow like rats startled by a flood. The woman scrambled to her knees, but her foot was caught in something¨Cthe blackness stuck to her leg like muck. The spear above her jutted out of the wall like an insect¡¯s mandible, piercing the air above her head, stabbing her in the skull.


    The bone cracked as the black blade protruded out the other side, severing her jugular.


    Chaos erupted in the armoury. Screams and gunshots. Andy slunk against the wall, cautious not to get caught in the crossfire. Shrapnell and ricochet pinged around him as he fiddled with his new weapons. It was a little difficult, weidling the rifles akimbo. He had to cram the stock of each under his armpit, using the tensile force of the straps to hold them in place while he used each free hand to work the chamber.


    Someone crashed into the gun rack beside Andy, knocking it over with a clatter. A rifle shook in the old man¡¯s hands as he clenched the trigger, but the rifle would not fire. The safety was on. Andy sidestepped the man, glancing up to check that there were still plenty of people between him and the shadow demon thing. Confident that he still had a few seconds to spare, he inspected his new weapons. Their handguards were a little plasticky for Andy¡¯s liking, he preferred it rougher, but he could always wrap some tape around them when he got the chance. The iron sights had a small green dot in their centre, that was a nice touch, it made up for the cheap grip.


    A splatter of blood dashed Andy¡¯s cheek. A black lance jutted out of the old man¡¯s chest, shooting up from the floor beneath him. The man¡¯s mouth hung agape, eyes wide as he clutched at the wound. Andy opened fire. A hail of bullets penetrated the shadowy lance ricocheting off the metal floor behind it, but the shadow seemed unaffected. Andy frowned. That might be a problem.


    The vault dwellers fled to the back of the armoury, firing wildly at the looming apparition peeling away from the vault wall. Bullets pinged around the room. Andy slinked against the wall trying to track their trajectory with his Ricochete ability to make sure he didn¡¯t get hit, but it was like a swarm of bees. Shrapnel pattered off his leather jacket, unable to pierce his stylish leather armour. A bullet shard cut his ear. He raised his rifle to protect his face, peering at the demon.


    Where the shadow expanded, bulbs flashed and went out. The darkness coated the space before them in a veil of black which boggled the mind, making it impossible to tell the depth and distance of its form. It was as though an enormous black expanse had opened up before Andy, swallowing the armoury¡¯s exit. It rippled, a bolt of blackness shot from it, piercing a revolutionary as he retreated. The man rolled onto his back and shot into the shadow. With his keen ballistic senses, Andy could see each bullet disappear into the blackness causing little more damage than a small ripple over its surface. However, with each shot, the rifle¡¯s muzzle flash doused the shadow in hot white light, singing its surface. So that¡¯s how you hurt it.


    Andy strode forward, rifle in each hand, mouth awash with the metallic taste of his Augmentation¡¯s powers. He opened fire, spraying the demon from point blank range. The shadow burned away as the flashes from his rifle¡¯s muzzles tore holes in its form. Andy plunged one rifle deep into its black body, squeezing the trigger and ripping it apart from the inside. Once his fusillade was up, the space before him had become a patchwork of shadow, like disparate tyre-fire smoke. Andy drew Julie and fired a Vortex shot three times. The force dispelled the shadow like a gust of wind, each brilliant muzzle flash burning bright wounds in its midnight flesh. His power flowed freely through Julie, as though they were more entwined now than ever before.


    The shadow demon dissipated, but its black residue clung to the walls like a stain. Reloading each rifle from the magazines held by two revolutions who had fallen, Andy strode towards the exit.


    ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± Blue-cap shouted. He stood in the centre of the room shaking, an empty pistol in his hand. Around him, the revolutionaries cowered, huddled together and crouching beneath tables. One man tried repeatedly to cock his rifle, though the mechanism was jammed. How he¡¯d managed to jam such a fresh new firearm, Andy didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°What was that thing?¡± Blue-cap repeat. The other revolutionaries had similar questions on their minds, screaming up a hysterical anthem. Andy didn¡¯t have time for that. He left the armoury and ventured into the corridors beyond. He looked around, trying to get his bearings, then activated his radio. ¡°Clara, you had any trouble with demons up there?¡±


    ¡°Andy, are you safe?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, just about.¡±


    ¡°What was that thing?¡± the new guy asked over their channel. It was the hacker. What was his name again? Something to do with honeysuckle.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Andy said. ¡°Bullets didn¡¯t work, but the muzzle flashes hurt it. It seems to be hurt by light. It keeps popping the bulbs. Honeyboy, can you do something about that?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± the third voice asked.


    ¡°Yeah, who else?¡±


    ¡°My name¡¯s Gabriel.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± Andy said. ¡°Fix the lights. Clara, I¡¯m coming up to you. Stay there.¡±


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    Andy ran down the vault corridor, trying to follow the directions of signs set into the ceiling to find the main tunnel which would lead to the elevator.


    ¡°You¡¯re going the wrong way,¡± Honeyboy buzzed over his radio.


    Andy stopped. A sign to his right read ¡®Waste Disposal.¡¯ That wasn¡¯t right. ¡°Okay, help.¡±


    ¡°Turn back the way you just came and take the first left.¡±


    Andy followed Honeyboy¡¯s directions, running through a maze of corridors and small laboratory rooms. Each door opened for him before he arrived at it, another perk of having the techie on their side. The lights in this area were stable. It seemed that the shadow demon was concentrating its attacks elsewhere in the vault. Between Honeyboy¡¯s instructions, Andy relayed what he knew about the shadow demon to Clara over the radio, and what he suspected.


    ¡°Have you heard of anything like that before?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Is the vampire back?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that.¡±


    ¡°But you said light hurts it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s different,¡± Andy said. ¡°Similar in ways. Dark energy, dislikes lights. But not just sunlight. Anything bright, I think.¡±


    ¡°Last door on the right,¡± Honeyboy chimed.


    Andy burst in on a room full of vault dwellers wearing pale yellow overalls fussing around a row of computer terminals. One man stood up and challenged him, but went deadly silent when he saw what Andy was packing. Another door slid open before him, and Andy passed the stunned vault dwellers into the wide main tunnel. Opposite him was the medical centre. Andy peeked through the windows as he walked by, though the blinds were drawn shut on many of the rooms, he couldn¡¯t see any lights on inside.


    ¡°He techie,¡± Andy radioed. ¡°How¡¯s Med Bay looking?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell, it¡¯s too dark.¡±


    ¡°Compromised,¡± Andy said. ¡°Keep the doors closed. Seal them if you can.¡±


    ¡°Affirmative. I¡¯ll do what I can.¡±


    Ahead, the group of vault dwellers from the armoury entered the tunnel. They ran in a disorganised panic towards the elevator shaft at the far end. Two men in white overalls took the rear, aiming their rifles down the tunnel at him. ¡°Friendly,¡± Andy shouted, waving his akimbo assault rifles in the air.


    ¡°There is a disturbance upstairs,¡± Honeyboy said. ¡°People are running everywhere. Oh, by the way, I¡¯m sorry that the vault is occupied. I promise you, I did not know. And I didn¡¯t know there was an evil creature down here too. I know it might seem like I laid this trap for you and sent you to your deaths, but that absolutely was not my intent.¡±


    Andy walked past the rear guard and headed towards the elevator. None of the revolutionaries tried to stop him. They were arguing about what to do next, too absorbed in their own confusion and fear to pay him any attention.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Clara radioed. ¡°Stay focussed. You were talking about upstairs? Where is that? Hydroponics?¡±


    ¡°Habbitiation,¡± the techie said. ¡°Just above Andy. You should be able to see them now.¡±


    Just then, the elevator doors opened. About twenty people crammed inside burst into the tunnel. Many were injured, or carrying their bloody brethren. They ran past the group of armed revolutionaries at the head of the tunnel, heading for Medical Bay. Blue-cap was shouting and grabbing people, asking them questions like ¡°What is up there?¡± and ¡°What could do this?¡± Before Andy could reach the elevator, the doors closed, and it travelled upwards again.


    ¡°Is there a stairwell,¡± Andy radioed.


    ¡°Repeat that,¡± Clara said, her voice from the radio speaker barely audible over the pained moans and barks of panic around him. Letting one of his rifles hang on its sling, Andy held his radio to his mouth and repeated the question, then held the speaker to his ear.


    ¡°To the right of the shaft,¡± Honeyboy said.


    People were streaming into the tunnel from a doorway beside the elevator, fleeing manically like zombies charging ahead of a horde. That must be the stairwell. Andy slung his rifles over his shoulders and waded through the crowd, going against the tide. The stairwell was a tight squeeze. A hail of footsteps stormed down the metal steps above. A tall man crashed into Andy, almost knocking him off his feet.


    ¡°Watch it,¡± Andy said. The vault dweller got to his feet then took off down the remaining steps, not turning to apologise or even acknowledge Andy. Whatever was up there was apparently more scary than Andy looked even with two rifles strapped to his back. He had to admit, he was a little bit wounded by that.


    Andy glanced up the steps. Although it was only about five stories high, vault dwellers were likely packed at the stairs entrance, which would block him from going any further. A woman ran past him, carrying a screaming child. Two men followed her, terror in their eyes.


    ¡°What¡¯s up there,¡± Andy asked over his radio.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to tell,¡± Honeyboy said. ¡°Something¡¯s killing them.¡±


    Andy strolled back out of the stairwell and into the main tunnel of Life Support Sec. People were crowded around the doors of the Medical Bay, which ran down the stretch of the tunnel and adjoining corridors. Many fiddled with control panels, scanning their arm bands, trying to get the doors open.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± Andy said, but they ignored him.


    ¡°Andy,¡± he heard his name being called. ¡°Andy, help us.¡± It was Blue-cap again, with his ionic blue-rimmed military cap. ¡°You¡¯ve got experience. You killed the one in the armoury. What are they?¡±


    Andy shrugged. ¡°Shadows. I didn¡¯t really kill it though.¡±


    ¡°Why won¡¯t the doors open,¡± someone yelled behind him, banging on the windows to the hospital. Beside Andy, the elevator door opened again and a crush of people spilled out onto the floor, falling over one another to get free of the metal box. Andy was lifted off his feet. One of his rifles got caught between someone¡¯s arms and was dragged away with the crowd. Clinging to the strap, Andy was pushed back twenty paces down the tunnel before he broke free, rescuing the rifle and slunk against the wall. All around him, the vault dwellers looked and smelled terrified, eyes bulging, slick with sweat. Blood soaked their pastel coloured overalls. A woman collapsed beside Andy, but nobody helped her. At the tunnel¡¯s head, the elevator doors closed again. Andy cursed, he wouldn¡¯t miss his next chance to ride it upwards.


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan, sis?¡± he radioed, checking his immediate surroundings for shadows. The tunnel was well lit, but the window at his back was dark. Andy could see beyond the blinds, there were no lights on inside Medical Bay.


    ¡°Make your way to Level 2, Hydroponics. It¡¯s the least populated area. I can access it via a security lift nearby. Currently, I¡¯m hunkered down in Admin, but I¡¯ll be alright. I¡¯ll meet you in the Workshop. Gabriel, you got that?¡±


    ¡°Copy,¡± Honeyboy said.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t I just come to you?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Because, this situation requires some finesse, and that¡¯s not exactly your strong suit.¡±


    ¡°Ouch.¡±


    ¡°Give us both directions, Gabriel,¡± Clara said. ¡°Do you have control over the elevators?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then operate them remotely. Make sure Andy gets where he needs to go. Keep the lights on. If you can help us get out of this alive, then we¡¯ll consider your debt paid.¡±


    ¡°I hear you loud and clear,¡± the techie said. ¡°You have my undivided attention.¡±


    ¡°This is so exciting-¡± came a quiet voice on the radio, before the feed cut it off.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°Just a video in the background,¡± Gabriel said. ¡°Andy, the elevator is coming back. You need to hurry.¡±


    ¡°I got it,¡± someone yelled nearby in the tunnel, and a doorway to Med Bay wooshed open. Vaulties started streaming into the dark hospital. Andy pointedly headed in the opposite direction. Squeezing past Blue-cap¡¯s revolutionaries, he slunk into a corner beside the elevator doors and waited for them to open again. The armed mutineers stood around limply, waiting for Blue-cap to take charge. The older officer was arguing with two men in grey uniforms and red trim¨Cthe same as those who defended the armoury. They were exchanging spiteful words while carrying an unconscious woman wearing an eyepatch.


    A blood-curdling scream cut through the throng like the wail of a fire alarm. Somebody fled the recently opened door to Medical Bay, tripping and banging their head against the wall. They lay unconscious as more vault dwellers poked their heads inside. Blue-cap¡¯s revolutionaries bravely backed away from the cries, rifles raised into the crowd of civilians, pointed past the backs of their heads.


    The elevator door pinged beside Andy, and a fresh batch of some twenty or so civilians streamed into the vault tunnel. Many were wounded and limping. They trampled past those backing away from the commotion in Medical Bay, and each group pressed together in a melee. Andy shimmied inside the elevator and activated his radio. ¡°Can you take this thing up for me Honeyboy?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Gabriel. Yes, I can.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go then.¡±


    A light flashed on the elevator¡¯s control panel, but the doors would not close while an object blocked the way. An old woman had collapsed in the doorway, her feet splayed on the ground. Andy nudged her shoe over the threshold, and the panel pinged pleasantly with a robotic affirmation. ¡°Doors closing.¡±


    But before the doors could seal shut, a hand grasped the opening, and activated the failsafe again. Blue-cap climbed into the elevator with him, followed by six of his remaining revolutionaries. ¡°No good being down here,¡± he was saying. ¡°Our mission remains the same. Secure Admin Sec and ensure that the vault doors open so that we can evacuate.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we take the stairs,¡± another asked.


    ¡°Too crowded. We¡¯ll risk it on the elevator.¡±


    There was another scream from Medical Bay. Panic swept through the tunnel. The vault dwellers fled deeper into Life Support Sec, leaving their injured behind on the tunnel floor, or limping after them in the growing dark. The crowd dissipated into adjoining tunnels, likely seeking places to hide. Andy watched over their heads as the space cleared, and the lights in the tunnel went out one by one. Black shapes crawled over the walls, following their victims into the quiet recesses. Everybody down here was trapped, like mice under the floorboards.


    ¡°We can¡¯t help them,¡± Blue-cap said. The elevator doors began to close, but something caught Andy¡¯s eye in the open doorway of Medical Bay. A fat, muscular leg slapped against the floor, pulling the grotesque object through the door. At first, Andy thought it was a person, horribly obese to the point of deformation. Its flesh was swathed in an obsidian robe which seemed to consume the light around it. And besides, it couldn¡¯t be human, because Andy counted six limbs, not four.

 Chapter 53 - Humanity vs Them

    Clara couldn¡¯t remain inside the Honcho¡¯s office. There was no time. Taking a deep breath, she activated the control panel and opened the door. Gabriel had intercepted their communications and informed her that the security officers believed she had a taser hidden on her body. Retreating to the middle of the room, she stood with her hands out to her sides to demonstrate that she was unarmed. Clara wiggled her fingers, feeling the electrical energy build as adrenaline soaked into her chest, warming her arms.


    Outside, a dozen or so security personnel armed with riot gear stood in formation, accompanied by a handful of administrative staff. The two men who had wrenched a crowbar between the door¡¯s seam backed up, batons and bar raised. Gloria¨Cthe head of security¨Cwas no longer slumped against the wall. Clara¡¯s eyes flickered over the group, challenging each man and woman to make a move, before looking at the Head Honcho. The others seemed to be waiting for his signal.


    ¡°Surrendering yourself?¡± he said, barging to the head of the group. Behind him, two security personnel dressed in the black overalls with red trim carried Andy¡¯s shotgun and Clara¡¯s submachine gun. The Head Honcho snapped his fingers, and three other personnel approached her.


    ¡°That¡¯s not a good idea,¡± Clara said, slipping her backfoot into a fighting stance. ¡°Your vault is compromised. You need to evacuate.¡± Clara let her electrical energy seep into her hands. Blue teslatic energy shot from her fingertips and scribbled across the metal floor. The men approaching her stopped. ¡°Listen to me,¡± she said. ¡°I know what you¡¯ve seen on the security footage. I know you¡¯re confused. But right now, whatever that thing is¡­ it¡¯s inside Habbitation sector, and it¡¯s killing your people.¡±


    ¡°You brought it here,¡± the Honcho snapped. ¡°Didn¡¯t you? You¡¯re trying to seize control of the vault. You murderous bitch.¡± The old man shook with anger. He gritted his teeth, flushed red with anger. ¡°Seize her.¡±


    Clara stuck out her hand. ¡°Wait. I can help. I¡¯m about the only person that can. I have experience fighting these things.¡±


    ¡°Put your hands down,¡± one of the security personnel said. He held his circular riot shield at his chest, baton by his side. Clara had been struck by Gloria¡¯s taser and it hadn¡¯t hurt her¨Cif anything, it had invigorated her. Although the electrical shock of the batton couldn¡¯t hurt her, Clara had no good defence against getting pummelled, or shot.


    ¡°You idiot,¡± Clara said. ¡°You want to detain me while there¡¯s a demon in your vault?¡±


    The security personnel fanned out, flanking her, but they were hesitant to engage. Clara had maybe a few seconds left before the situation escalated and became hopeless. She could make a run for it, dash between the guards and head into the Security Stations where an elevator could take her down to the Workshop on Level Two. But it was very risky. ¡°Listen to me,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m not your enemy.¡±


    ¡°You have orders,¡± the Head Honcho said.


    Somebody screamed behind her. The sound was tinny, compressed, coming from a speaker set into the wall, echoing throughout Admin Sector on a dozen other systems. The terrifying sound rose in pitch as more voices joined it, a dreadful choir that sent a jolt of primal panic through Clara. The guards stopped in their tracks, seized by fear, scanning the room for the source. One man¡¯s eyes glazed over, staring into space, lost in the horrible sound. Abruptly, it cut off, replaced by the sound of radio static, and Gabriel¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Sorry, I know that was startling,¡± he said. ¡°Although, that was kind of the point. Anyway, what you just heard was an audio feed taken from the microphone of a personal computer in Habbitation Sector. Just one room of many. It¡¯s hard to see on the webcam video feed. They¡¯re still screaming though. I can see the waveform. I¡¯m not playing it again. I don¡¯t want to. Unless you need to hear it again?¡±


    The man before her paled inside his riot armour. His arms dropped and he turned back to look at the Head Honcho. The old man¡¯s face was frozen in a snarl.


    ¡°I can help you,¡± Clara said, seizing the initiative. ¡°Open the vault doors. Evacuate everyone now.¡±


    ¡°Open the doors,¡± the Honcho muttered. ¡°Open the doors, and let more of them in? Is that your plan?¡± Grabbing Andy¡¯s shotgun from the hands of one of his subordinates, the Honcho attempted to pump-load it. Clara¡¯s heart fluttered. He was insane. He would kill her.


    Shoving aside the nearest guard, Clara darted past the vanguard personnel, releasing the restraints on her power. She got within five metres of the Honcho and released a Teslatic Burst. Blue lightning shot from her hands, crackling through the air, grounding itself through the Honcho¡¯s body. His spine arched as the shotgun went off in his hands, blasting the ceiling above Clara¡¯s head. The lightning spread to four more members of his guard, scattering sparks about the tunnel. They jumped, spasming as they were shocked. Clara slid to one knee, wrenching the shotgun out of the Honcho¡¯s stiff hands and pump-loaded it, pointing it at the guard wielding her submachine gun. ¡°Drop it!¡±


    He did as she said, unslinging the gun slowly and placing it at his feet.


    ¡°Anyone else?¡± she said, scanning the tunnel. The security personnel had backed up, interlocking their shields in groups of twos and threes. They still outnumbered her. If they rushed her, they could still take her down.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she said. ¡°I am taking control of this vault. My men have hacked into your systems. And we are going to evacuate this vault. Any questions?¡±


    The security personnel were silent, then one woman walked forward, lowering her shield. She had dark skin, green eyes and short black hair in curls. ¡°Can we save them?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Clara paused, the subdued fear in the woman¡¯s voice catching her off guard. A second ago, the woman was her enemy, now she was something else. ¡°Get down there. Secure the elevator. Do anything you can. Light kills it, this shadow entity. Turn on the lights, evacuate the vault.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± somebody asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± Clara stammered for a suitable name to call it. ¡°I¡¯ve seen things like this before. Light will kill it, muzzle flashes, torches. Your tasers will work, the brighter the better.¡± Clara¡¯s mind raced, it wasn¡¯t the first time she had to get creative to kill a monstrosity in the wasteland. ¡°Can your weapons be modified? Amplified? Turn up the strength?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s only one setting,¡± somebody said.


    ¡°Flashlights then,¡± Clara said. ¡°Arm yourselves.¡±


    ¡°I think I know something that could help,¡± another soldier said. He was short and stocky, with a thick black moustache, and a red-brimmed officer¡¯s cap. ¡°A crowd-control weapon, a shock rifle. It¡¯s in the workshop.¡±


    By the looks on the others¡¯ faces, this was news to them.


    ¡°Top secret,¡± the short man said, then nodded at the Honcho lying dazed at Clara¡¯s feet. ¡°Guess that doesn¡¯t matter much now.¡±


    ¡°The workshop?¡± Clara said. ¡°Good, that¡¯s where I¡¯m heading. We re-arm there, then we assault the Habitation Sector, establish control over the main elevator, and begin evacuating civilians.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the woman with green eyes said. ¡°My husband is down there. I have to go now.¡±


    Most of the security personnel voiced their agreement. Though they were afraid of Clara, she was still an outsider, they wouldn¡¯t follow her orders.


    ¡°Okay. Do what you¡¯ve got to do,¡± Clara said, grabbing her sub-machine gun off the floor and flicking the torch attachment on. ¡°Keep comms open. Stick together. Remember, light kills it.¡± If they were going to assault Habitation Sector now, they¡¯d need all the firepower they could get. She handed the woman with green eyes her submachine gun. ¡°Trust me.¡±


    The woman nodded, leading the majority of the security personnel down the tunnel towards the elevator. ¡°Take me to the workshop,¡± Clara said, addressing the short stocky officer.


    He glanced at her shotgun, weighing his options, not so easily intimidated. ¡°What aren¡¯t you telling us?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. What do you need to know?¡±


    ¡°Where¡­ why are you here? What is that thing?¡±


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Clara stared into his eyes, and felt the tension behind his gaze. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said slowly. ¡°You need to react now, or we¡¯re all dead.¡±


    The man blinked, and the tension disappeared. ¡°Renold, gather the upper sec civvies, get them upstairs.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir,¡± another of the men in grey overalls said, taking three guards with him down an adjacent corridor.


    ¡°Alright then, this way,¡± he turned, accompanied by the two remaining soldiers. ¡°My name¡¯s O¡¯Niel, head of Hab-Sec security.¡±


    ¡°Clara,¡± she said, though she doubted there was an officer left in the vault who didn¡¯t know hers and Andy¡¯s names by now. ¡°What do you mean by upstairs?¡± she asked, nodding at Renold and his team.


    ¡°The vault door,¡± O¡¯Niel said.


    ¡°Reckon it¡¯s safe?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea what¡¯s safe right now, young lady.¡±


    Clara pointed at her feet. ¡°Right here, with us. We don¡¯t know where it¡¯s coming from. Could be upstairs. But, we can fight it. We can keep people safe.¡±


    O¡¯Niel¡¯s chin creased, then he nodded, activating his radio. ¡°Renold, scratch that. Meet us in the workshop.¡±


    ¡°Affirmative,¡± the radio responded.


    At the bottom of the vault tunnel, the main group of security personnel arrived at the elevator heading down. Clara was still unsure what they were up against. Had those men and women departed on a death march, or a valiant assault? She hoped they stood a chance.


    O¡¯Niel took one last look at the Head Honcho, lying on the floor of the tunnel, clutching his chest, then headed down a hexagonal corridor. ¡°This way.¡±


    ¡°Where is Gloria?¡± Clara asked as they broke into a jog.


    ¡°The infirmary,¡± O¡¯Niel said. He had a sharp accent which seesawed between high and low notes, unlike anything Clara had heard before. ¡°You shocked her hard and good. What weapons you got hiding?¡±


    ¡°Nothing hidden, it¡¯s a natural ability. I¡¯m an Augmented soldier, so is Andy. There are more like us outside. We are designed to fight the apocalypses, just like this one.¡±


    ¡°The world has changed a lot,¡± O¡¯Niel said, scanning his armband over a control panel to access the room beyond. Clara could have asked Gabriel to open the door for them before they arrived; it would have saved them a few seconds, but she decided to let the officer lead the way. Having some control over the situation would probably be good for his head. Clara needed the soldiers to be sharp and alert if they were going to get out of here alive.


    ¡°Gabriel,¡± she radioed. ¡°Update.¡±


    ¡°Andy has arrived at the workshop. There are seven others with him. They¡¯ve all got guns.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the situation like in Life Support Sector?¡±


    The radio was silent for a moment, as Clara and her team approached an elevator. Awaiting them at the elevator were four more vault dwellers, two women, a man and a child.


    ¡°Bad,¡± Gabriel replied. ¡°I don¡¯t want to look there anymore.¡±


    ¡°And Habbitation?¡±


    ¡°People are hiding, locking the doors.¡±


    ¡°Can you keep the lights on?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying my best,¡± he said. ¡°The creature seems to be overloading the circuits, causing the bulbs¡¯ fuses to burst. There¡¯s nothing I can do from here.¡±


    Imagery rose to the forefront of her mind¨Cswirling colours forming an electrical current. ¡°Can you detect an overload in the circuitry and limit the amplitude?¡± Clara said. ¡°Dim the lights which the shadow targets?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love to, but by the time I detect a surge, it¡¯s too late.¡±


    Clara¡¯s mind raced. She stood outside the elevator, waiting for it to arrive, staring into space. ¡°Get on the intercoms in Habbitation. Inform the population of everything we know. Tell them to shine flashlights, start fires if they have to. Stop the lights from going out.¡±


    ¡°Affirmative.¡±


    The elevator doors opened for them. ¡°Can you access the vault doors from here, the one on the surface?¡±


    The radio feed paused while Clara got inside the elevator. The officer keyed a command and the door closed behind them.


    ¡°I can,¡± Gabriel said.


    Clara paused, an order on her lips. If she opened the vault doors now, it would ensure that they had an escape. There was a chance that they would lose that option later, for whatever reason. However, there were other risks. Although the Head Honcho was a paranoid fellow, he wasn¡¯t completely insane. He may have been correct in thinking the shadow entity had slunk in with Andy and Clara when they opened the vault door above. Though the apocalypse zone was marked as ¡®Fae Creatures¡¯--Clara didn¡¯t know anything about shadow demons in that genre of lore.


    ¡°Andy, do you read me?¡± she radioed.


    ¡°Heyup.¡±


    ¡°Any ideas where this thing came from?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, me, I think. Whoops.¡±


    Andy¡¯s words resounded over her radio speaker in the quiet elevator chamber.


    ¡°What makes you think that?¡±


    ¡°Erm, I dunno. A hunch.¡±


    ¡°I doubt that,¡± Clara said out loud, then quietly into her radio¡¯s microphone. ¡°Keep that theory to yourself.¡± Either way, it couldn¡¯t be a coincidence that they had entered the same day which the shadow demon attacked after the vault had remained isolated for nine years. Regardless of the details, the vault was safe until she had touched it. Guilt welled up inside her, but she squashed it down. It wouldn¡¯t do her any good. Her mission was clear: help the vault dwellers evacuate. Depending on how many people she saved, she could feel guilty later.


    As for whether there would be more monsters waiting outside the vault entrance, there was no way to be sure. They hadn¡¯t seen anything on the road while approaching the vault, but then this creature was clearly intelligent. It may have hidden in the shadows like a fox outside a rabbit¡¯s tunnel. If she asked Gabriel to open the vault doors now, more of them might get in, then they truly would be trapped. It was better to keep the doors closed until they were ready to evacuate, then do so in force, rather than be trapped and attacked from both ends.


    The elevator panel pinged and the doors opened on an alcove in a large tunnel. Clara came face to face with the barrel of a rifle. Two women and one man stood on both flanks of the alcove with a full arch of fire on the elevator chamber. ¡°Drop your weapons,¡± the man shouted. Clara squinted. She recognised his thin blonde moustache and white overalls from when she and Andy had burst into the entryway elevator that afternoon.


    ¡°We¡¯re on your side,¡± Clara said, but they didn¡¯t budge.


    ¡°I won¡¯t tell you again,¡± the young man said. His mouth curled into a snarl.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Andy¡¯s voice rang down the tunnel alongside his heavy footsteps. ¡°You best not be pointing a rifle at my sister, you moustachioed prick.¡±


    The young man began to babble a response, rifle lowered, then Andy came into view wielding one assault rifle in each hand, and headbutted him. The rifleman fell to the floor clutching his nose.


    ¡°Andy! Too far,¡± Clara said, lowering her shotgun and raising her free hand to the two women, displaying that she wasn¡¯t a threat. ¡°We¡¯re friendly. Honestly, I¡¯m sick of saying that.¡±


    Suddenly, more vault dwellers rushed into the tunnel¡¯s alcove, each was armed with the same black short-barreled assault rifle, however their uniforms were all different colours.


    ¡°Traitors,¡± O¡¯Niel spat. ¡°Opportunist scum. Have you no honour?¡±


    Clara recognised one of the vault dwellers in the group¨Cthe head of the external guard, Gary, whom she had accidentally landed on in the elevator earlier that day. ¡°All of you, out. Greys, over there.¡± He pointed down the short tunnel. At the other end, a door opened on a workshop station. Clara was glad to see the lights on inside.


    ¡°Load in,¡± Gary said. His subordinates began filing into the elevator.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Clara asked dumbfounded.


    ¡°To retake this vault.¡±


    Clara blinked. The man¡¯s stupidity was stunning. The doors began to close on the seven armed militia inside, leaving Clara and Andy with the three guards in grey overalls alone.


    ¡°Gabriel, halt the elevator,¡± Clara radioed. ¡°Open the doors.¡±


    Almost immediately, the elevator doors opened before her. Gary was scowling at the elevator control panel, scanning his armband over and over again.


    Clara snapped her fingers, releasing some of her pent up anger in the form of short electronic bursts. The sound, like firecrackers, caught their attention. ¡°Let me catch you up on events. The vault is compromised, that means there¡¯s a shadow entity running rampant, killing people. Are you aware?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we know,¡± the young man who Andy had headbutted said, clutching his bloody nose.


    ¡°The monster in Habbitation?¡± Gary asked.


    ¡°Yep, and Life Support sec, and probably finding its way up here right now.¡±


    ¡°How bad is it?¡± Gary asked.


    ¡°Bad. I take it you guys are some sort of revolutionaries, that¡¯s swell. But I¡¯m in control of this vault now. My men have hacked it. The Honcho has been usurped, not by you, but by me.¡± Clara took a deep, calming breath. ¡°Do you have a problem with that?¡±


    The revolutionaries stared at her, then looked to Gary for a response. The older man¡¯s expression seemed to be stuck in a loop. His eye twitched errantly. Beside her, Andy slowly raised his assault rifles akimbo, pointing them into the elevator shaft.


    ¡°Andy,¡± she groaned. ¡°Not helpful.¡±


    ¡°Will you let us escape?¡± Gary said.


    Clara winced and shook her head like she was shivering. ¡°Yes, of course. Why would I want¡­ We have a plan to evacuate the vault. Are you prepared to work together?¡±


    ¡°With you?¡± he asked. ¡°Or them?¡±


    ¡°Me, him, the greys, the whites, the people wearing fucking yellow overalls and green caps with the red fucking trim-¡± Clara screamed, then clenched her jaw shut, squeezing her eyes closed. Her body thronged with electrical energy. When she opened her eyes, she noticed a yellow light glowing beneath her combat jacket, illuminating her hands. She spoke slowly, releasing wisps of yellow light with each word. ¡°We are going to work together, okay, to save as many lives as we can. Everyone is on everyone¡¯s side. There¡¯s something you have to learn about the apocalypses. It¡¯s humanity vs them. Got it?¡±


    One by one, Gary¡¯s revolutionaries excited the elevator, rifles lowered. One woman approached the grey uniformed security personnel and offered her apologies. Finally, Gary bowed his head and approached Clara. ¡°Is the vault really under your control?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°What are your orders then, Head Honcho?¡±

 Chapter 54 - Honcho Supreme

    Clara examined the tools laid out before her on the brightly lit workshop surface. She didn¡¯t know the names of more than half of them, but had a solid conceptualisation of how she wanted them to be modified. Minutes earlier, security personnel dressed in grey overalls had taken the elevator back up to Admin Sec to pillage the security stations for riot gear. They had returned with a group of Admin Sec personnel who had followed O¡¯Neil¡¯s radio messages to meet at the elevator, and two duffel bags full of truncheons and tasers. One man also carried an armload of armoured vests and shields. Clara wasn¡¯t sure how useful the armour would be against the shadow demon, but she instructed them to return upstairs to gather as much as they could. The feeling of armoured padding might give them a confidence boost, and looking at the civilians-turned-soldiers around her, she could tell they needed it.


    ¡°Gabriel,¡± Clara radioed. ¡°Update me on the civilian quarters.¡±


    ¡°It seems that the vault inhabitants have started burning their possessions to ward off the shadows.¡± His voice crackled on her radio. ¡°They¡¯re using flashlights too, just as my message instructs. They are aware that help is coming, or at least, they should be. The speaker system is still working, but they all seem to be hiding. The shadow is¡­ well, it has taken over the main room. The civilians have taken to their dorms.¡±


    ¡°Amend the message,¡± Clara said. ¡°Add that rescue will be coming shortly, but any survivors who can¡¯t find shelter should try to come here, to the workshop area on Level Two.¡±


    ¡°Amendment received,¡± Gabriel radioed. ¡°Over and out.¡±


    ¡°Just over,¡± Clara said. ¡°Stay on the line.¡±


    Clara observed the room. She had set Andy and Gary to guard the workshop¡¯s main exit. Two more of the rifle-armed revolutionaries were posted beside each of the workshop¡¯s two windows, looking out into a small tunnel which acted as a buffer between them and the massive Hydroponics warehouse. Slowly, a trickle of Hydroponics staff joined them, each dressed in pastel green overalls, however as of yet, they hadn¡¯t received any survivors from deeper levels of the vault. Hopefully, the amendment to Gabriel¡¯s message would change that.


    At one end of the tunnel outside was the vault¡¯s main elevator shaft, which ran between every layer of the vault; at the opposite end was an entryway into Hydroponics. The lights were all on, nothing buzzed or flickered. Clara listened out for the elevator doors in the tunnel beyond. Any moment now, survivors from habitation might start coming up to meet them.


    Currently, their group consisted of thirty-two vault dwellers, mostly new arrivals: personnel from Admin Sec and Hydroponics. They huddled together in groups, eyes bright like frightened deer. Some talked loudly about the horrors they had witnessed, rambling about escaping the vault at all costs; others slouched on the floor mutely, expressions glazed over, eyes elsewhere. Among them, they had three trained mechanics dressed in yellow overalls. Clara gathered them up and explained to them her vision for the weapon modifications.


    ¡°Turn up the power. Make them brighter. Can the taser be set to discharge an electrical burst, rather than plug the spikes into a target and transfer a shock? I don¡¯t think that will work against the shadow demon.¡±


    ¡°Demon?¡± the mechanic blanched, her eyes drifting to the workshop¡¯s doorway, which was guarded by Andy and Gary¡¯s soldiers.


    ¡°The intruding¡­ entity,¡± Clara corrected. ¡°Can the weapons be modified?¡±


    The other mechanic noded. ¡°I think so. The stun battens can be overcharged, however they¡¯ll be subject to malfunction and low battery life.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. We don¡¯t plan on staging a pitched battle. What about the taser?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± he said.


    ¡°It could work,¡± the female mechanic said as her eyes drifted back to Clara¡¯s face, and back to reality. ¡°Disable the safety fuses and fit a pulse modulation circuit.¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± Clara nodded without understanding half of it. ¡°That sounds good. Do it. Hurry.¡±


    Clara pointed at a group of rifle-armed revolutionaries who were standing apart from the other survivors, surveying them with suspicion. ¡°You lot, help them. Do whatever they say.¡± One of the revolutionaries, a tall older man whose belly inflated his pink overalls, stepped towards the mechanics, rifle poised across his chest, finger on the trigger. Clara put a hand on his chest to stop him and readjusted the strap so that it slung diagonally over his shoulder, then swivelled the gun around to his backside. He scowled down at her as she dressed his gear, but didn¡¯t utter a word of complaint. Clara patted him on the shoulder once she finished. ¡°It¡¯ll be there if you need it, now focus on helping them.¡±


    O¡¯Neil returned from a room adjacent to the workshop, carrying three unusual rifles in his arms. The experimental shock weaponry housed a battery unit where the magazine would normally be. Red and white wires coiled down the barrel, visible beneath a yellow hard-plastic mesh casing. More wires were plugged into nodes on an exposed circuit board, fixed into the stock behind the trigger. They looked rough, but O¡¯Neil vouched that they would work, and began explaining their design to the mechanics.


    Clara left them to work, strolling across the wide workshop floor towards where Andy guarded the workshop¡¯s exit closest to Hydroponics. The workshop ceiling was a little taller than in the rest of the vault to accommodate a network of ventilation pipes which, once activated, would suck toxic fumes up from the workstations and pump them through tunnels to the surface. Clara had already asked Gabriel if they were large enough to crawl through, but after inspecting the vault¡¯s schematics, he¡¯d replied in negative. Apparently, a couple people could squeeze into them, but with an entire vault to evacuate, the tunnels would get clogged, people would be trapped. It would be a slaughter.


    Pushing the morbid thoughts from her mind, she approached the vault security wearing white overalls with a blue trim, and addressed their leader. ¡°How¡¯s it going Gary? How are the Level Three team doing?¡± Clara was dialled into the same radio channels as Gary, she had heard the same radio chatter from the forward security team attempting to establish a bulkhead in the main elevator entrance in Habitation Sec. But something drove her to ask the older man for an update anyway.


    ¡°They have secured the elevator,¡± Gary said. ¡°They¡¯re using a couple hand-held spotlights from Hydroponics to light it up.¡±


    ¡°Have they engaged the entity?¡± Clara asked. She knew the answer, but she wanted to hear him say it.


    ¡°No. Not yet. It¡¯s grim down there, apparently.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll back them up soon. Keep on that channel. Inform me if something changes.¡±


    ¡°Yes Honcho.¡±


    Clara paused. ¡°Okay, sure.¡±


    ¡°Sis.¡± Andy slouched against a wall, two assault rifles at his side. ¡°What are we doing here?¡±


    ¡°Modifying the shock weaponry to fight that thing.¡±


    ¡°No, I mean here generally?¡±


    ¡°Helping these people evacuate.¡±


    Andy glanced around the room. ¡°Okay, why?¡±


    ¡°Because they need our help.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we just leave? I¡¯ve got a rucksack full of ammo.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re our employer,¡± Clara said, framing it in a way that might satisfy him. ¡°Think of it like that.¡±


    Andy raised an eyebrow, then turned to Gary and held his hand out to shake. ¡°Andrew Mercy-Mercenary. Glad to do business. I hear you¡¯ve got a problem with shadow demons tearing people to shreds?¡± He whistled. ¡°That¡¯s an expensive job.¡±


    ¡°Andy,¡± Clara waved him over. Peeling away from the wall, he walked with her out of earshot from the vault dwellers. ¡°What¡¯s your problem?¡±


    ¡°My problem?¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t have a problem.¡±


    ¡°We let that thing in here. We¡¯re responsible.¡±


    ¡°Really, are you sure?¡±


    ¡°You said so yourself, you said it oozed out of you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah but that doesn¡¯t prove anything.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not-¡±


    ¡°It was just a feeling I had,¡± Andy interrupted. ¡°Maybe I was wrong. A shadow, underground? Doesn¡¯t sound uncommon.¡±


    Clara shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s not a coincidence is it? The day we arrive, it starts killing them all.¡±


    Andy bowed his head.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter how much we¡¯re getting paid, okay,¡± Clara said. ¡°Some things are more important.¡±


    ¡°We could just leave, cut our losses.¡±


    ¡°Are you afraid, Andy?¡±


    He paused. Clara hadn¡¯t expected that. She searched his face for emotion, but it wasn¡¯t fear. Apprehension? It was hard to tell.


    ¡°If you wanna risk your life, then sure, let¡¯s do it,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t really see the point though.¡±


    ¡°The point is, if we can kill that thing and help this society establish itself on the surface, they¡¯ll be allies for life. Employees for life. We¡¯ll still be able to pillage the vault, or use the technology to build infrastructure for the vault dwellers on the surface. A lot of good can come of this still. It¡¯s not too late to salvage the situation.¡±


    ¡°Pun intended?¡± he said.


    ¡°Andy, pelase.¡±


    He was silent. Clara knew that he¡¯d follow her anywhere, that he trusted her. She knew he loved her as well, though he had strange ways of showing it. At times, when he was briefly sober, he¡¯d open up, and they could have a normal conversation on the road, or over a meal in a safehouse. With the kindness he sometimes showed her, it was easy to forget sometimes just how little compassion Andy possessed for the rest of humanity.


    ¡°They¡¯re scared,¡± she continued. ¡°You know why? They think that that thing is stronger than us. They¡¯ve never met Augmented people before, they don¡¯t know what we¡¯re capable of.¡± She smiled. ¡°They don¡¯t know what you¡¯re capable of.¡±


    The corner of Andy¡¯s lip twitched. Using the barrel of one assault rifle, he brushed his fringe out of his face.


    ¡°I think we ought to show them what a real merc looks like.¡± Clara lowered her brow, grinning conspiratorially. ¡°Put on a bit of a show, you know?¡±


    ¡°Alright, whatever you say Honcho supreme. I¡¯ll keep guarding the boring door.¡±


    Clara took a breath. She had gotten caught up playing commander with the vault dwellers, she had forgotten the very basics. Andy wasn¡¯t a soldier. It was useless pushing him into play like a pawn. Besides, they were equals. It was wrong of her to order him around. ¡°No, do your own thing. Whatever you think is best. But don¡¯t headbut anyone else, please.¡±


    ¡°No guarantees,¡± he winked.


    As Andy walked away, an idea occurred to her. ¡°Hold on.¡± Clara unstrapped her wrist terminal. ¡°Slip this on first.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Why?¡±


    ¡°I want to see if you have any tricks we can use.¡±


    ¡°Oh, what, shooting¡¯s not good enough for you anymore?¡±


    ¡°Just come here,¡± Clara said, grabbing his wrist and slipping the device on. ¡°Stop wriggling.¡±


    The terminal¡¯s conductive module synchronised against Andy¡¯s skin, displaying a written list of his Augmentation¡¯s abilities. Nothing had changed within his Marksman delineation, however in place of Hitman was a new delineation: Predator, which possessed a new enhancement module.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Delineation: Predator


    Predator Intuition: Driven by ancient urges, the Gunslinger¡¯s senses are enhanced to detect and stalk prey, smell fear and vulnerability, and hone composure before striking.


    ¡°You having fun?¡± Andy asked.


    ¡°Your Hitman delineation has changed. I didn¡¯t know that was possible.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah. And¡­?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s called Predator now, and you¡¯ve gained a new module.¡±


    ¡°Predator?¡± Andy wrinkled his nose.


    ¡°What? You don¡¯t like it?¡±


    ¡°It makes it sound like I hang around near schools.¡±


    Clara snorted. ¡°Look,¡± she pointed. ¡°Detect and stalk prey. Have you noticed any changes?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Andy tried to pull away, but Clara held his wrist.


    ¡°There¡¯s something else,¡± she said, scrolling to the bottom of the list and reading aloud. ¡°Mutation synthesis complete.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± he said unenthusiastically. ¡°Can you edit the names from there?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask your AI?¡±


    ¡°Eh. Already tried that.¡±


    ¡°Focus,¡± Clara tapped the screen. ¡°Mutation synthesis complete. It didn¡¯t say that a couple days ago, did it?¡±


    Andy shrugged.


    ¡°Has something changed?¡±


    Andy turned away from her. ¡°No,¡± he said, then paused. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°Someone¡¯s coming,¡± one of the window guards shouted, pointing to the main elevator shaft in the tunnel outside.


    ¡°Maybe what?¡± Clara said.


    Andy nodded towards the elevator shaft outside. ¡°Should probably see to that.¡±


    Reluctantly, Clara unstrapped the terminal and slipped it back on her wrist, running over to the guard¡¯s side. Gary opened the door into the tunnel and sallied out with his revolutionary soldiers. Clara watched them run past each window outside as they caught up to the group of survivors and helped them into the workshop bay. Six adults and two children entered, bloodied and panting. They collapsed to the floor. A woman clutched her child, nestling the young boy¡¯s face into her shoulder. Clara¡¯s heart twanged like a struck chord. Her chest tightened, it was difficult to breathe. She¡¯d done this. She.


    Other survivors gathered around the newcomers, offering them canteens of water and first aid. Clara turned away and returned to the engineers at the worktops, seeking something to distract her from their pain.


    The three vault dwellers in yellow overalls were taking apart the equipment, instructing their helpers sorting through parts and preparing tools for use. Clara knew it was too soon to ask for an update, so she held her tongue, not wanting to distract them from their work.


    ¡°Gabriel,¡± she radioed. ¡°Any update?¡±


    ¡°Not particularly,¡± he said, isolating his response through her radio only. ¡°However, I finished fixing up my gnome figurine that I showed you and-¡±


    ¡°Can you see the group in Hab Sec?¡± she interrupted. ¡°Do you have eyes?¡±


    ¡°Not quite,¡± he said. ¡°Some of the cameras have stopped working. They may be linked to the circuitry of the lights.¡±


    ¡°Any other abnormalities?¡±


    ¡°Erm, you¡¯ll have to be more specific.¡±


    ¡°Like doors opening. Computers turning on and off? Electronics playing up besides the lights?¡± Something about their conversation brought back a hazy memory. Somebody had said that recently¡­ Who was it? Clara tried to focus on what it was, but it escaped her.


    ¡°No, just the cameras.¡±


    ¡°Good, tell me if that changes. What can you see of the elevator in Hab-sec? Is there anyone outside it?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a camera around a corner, but it¡¯s blocked from view by something, I can¡¯t tell what, and there¡¯s one in the distance, but it¡¯s very blurry.¡±


    ¡°Have you detected any disturbances on any vault levels other than Hab Sec and Hydroponics Sec?¡±


    The radio feed paused. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°Such as fluctuations in electrical current, destabilisation in the vault¡¯s power systems?¡±


    Gabriel stammered. ¡°I know that it may not appear as such, however, I am only one man, Clara, I cannot observe everything all at once, and I haven''t had the time to write a programme to do that for me.¡±


    ¡°Okay, sorry, you¡¯re right. Focus on keeping the lights on in Hydro and Hab. Make sure the vault door is ready to open when we¡¯re ready to leave. Keep an eye out for anything unusual and update me in five.¡±


    Clara¡¯s mind raced like a machine pushed into its top gear. Had she missed any details? She went through her plan in her head again, although it was painfully simple. A lot of factors hinged on modifying the security weapons to work against the shadow demon. Once that was done, she could draw up something more concrete.


    ¡°Erm,¡± Gabriel buzzed. ¡°Might I ask, what is it you¡¯re working on there?¡±


    ¡°The weapons?¡± Clara asked, searching the workshop for a security camera, wondering where the techie was observing her from. ¡°We¡¯re modifying them so that they emit brighter lights.¡±


    ¡°Can you send me the model numbers? I may be able to help?¡±


    ¡°Sure, do you have a second transceiver though? I could do one better?¡±


    ¡°My software enables me to split transmissions however I please.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Clara raised her voice to address the room. ¡°Who has a radio they¡¯re not using?¡±


    Two people approached her, one of Gary¡¯s white-overall soldiers and a woman who had just arrived from Admin Sec. Clara took the woman¡¯s radio, but let the soldier keep his. ¡°Use a closed channel,¡± she explained to the mechanic, handing over the radio. ¡°My technician is on the other end. He¡¯s a very smart man. He hacked this vault. Listen to his advice.¡±


    As soon as the two radios were synced up, Gabriel and the engineers engaged in a slew of technical jargon over the airwaves. Thankfully, due to Gabriel¡¯s second transceiver, he and the mechanic could communicate on a separate channel to the one she had already established, ensuring that she maintained their open line.


    Clara left the techies to their devices, assessing the room. Things were running relatively smoothly in spite of the air of fear, teetering on frenzy. Her plan was coming to fruition, but it wouldn¡¯t take much to de-stabalise the survivors. Currently, only a minority of them were armed with weapons that could damage the shadow demon. If they were attacked now, how long would they hold their positions and fight before succumbing to blind panic? She¡¯d been on the other end of it before, as a child, but now somehow, due to circumstance, they were all relying on her to come up with a plan. Clara glanced at a frightened child, cowering in her mother¡¯s arms. Her lips moved, and though Clara couldn¡¯t hear her voice over the clamour, she knew the words; they had been her own. ¡°What¡¯s happening? Why? Why? Are we going to die?¡±


    The doors leading to Admin Sec elevator opened, and a group strolled in. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to see me, did you?¡± a man announced. He was heading a group of three others, all of them wearing stripy white and black overalls, accompanied by two of Gary¡¯s rifle-armed revolutionaries. Clara hadn¡¯t noticed the revolutionary¡¯s departure, she wondered how long they¡¯d been gone, and who these new arrivals were.


    O¡¯Neil stepped forward to meet their arrival. At first, Clara expected them to clasp hands, but something about the mood was off. The remaining soldiers under O¡¯Neil¡¯s command gathered to his side, and the two groups stood off. Clara¡¯s eyes flickered to Gary; he was watching the situation intently from across the room, eyes on the back of O¡¯Neil¡¯s head, both hands on his rifle.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± O¡¯Niel said. ¡°Cause you should be fuckin¡¯ dead.¡±


    ¡°You wanna take a shot?¡± The man in stripy overalls pounded his chest. His back was arched, his knees were bent. His posture was terrible, Clara recognised from having seen prisoners before.


    O¡¯Neil stood his ground. ¡°I¡¯ll fuckin¡¯ kill you now if you jeopardise the safety of this vault.¡±


    ¡°Good job you¡¯ve been doing keeping it safe.¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± Clara barked, sensing the situation getting out of hand quickly. ¡°Who are you?¡± she addressed the newcomer.


    The man looked her up and down. ¡°Who the fuck are you?¡±


    ¡°Clara. It¡¯s lovely to meet you. Do you mind?¡±


    ¡°No, I don''t mind. I¡¯ve been locked in the box for god knows how long. How long¡¯s it been, O''Neil?¡±


    ¡°Not long enough,¡± the officer replied. O¡¯Neil¡¯s small entourage of security personnel echoed his sentiment, spitting ¡°traitor¡± and ¡°scum¡± at the newcomers.


    Clara clapped her hands, discharging a flicker of energy as she did so. Several survivors in the room yelped at the small explosive sound. ¡°I¡¯m new here, so I don¡¯t know the history of events. By the sounds of it, the two of you have some personal matters to work out. I¡¯d prefer it if you waited until we were all on the surface to do so. Frankly, I¡¯m bored of it already.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s this bitch?¡± the ex-con said.


    Clara snorted as her blood pressure spiked. What she wanted to say was ¡°I¡¯m the bitch that¡¯s gonna blow you apart with this here shotgun if you don¡¯t shut up and listen to reason.¡± But what she really said was ¡°I¡¯m a mercenary. I¡¯ve taken control of your vault¡¯s systems and¡­ You know what, someone else catch up this gentlemen on events. I don¡¯t have time for it.¡±


    Clara observed the room. There were a lot of politics at work that she didn¡¯t understand and didn¡¯t have time to learn. It was all completely irrelevant to their survival. Her evacuation plans would never work if she couldn¡¯t keep the vault dwellers from arguing amongst themselves. The more survivors who found their way to the workshop bay, the harder it would be for her to keep them focussed. She needed them to be a united force, and she had an idea how.


    Ushering Gary and O¡¯Neil to a private corner, Clara watched the men in silence, preparing what she wanted to say. O¡¯Neil stood beside her, keeping an eye over the room. His shoulders were fixed back, his chin held high, exuding an air of confidence which didn¡¯t rely on the merit of the situation. The vault which he had been tasked to protect had been invaded, compromised by an unknown murderous force, his people slaughtered, friend and family missing in the dark; his squad in the workshop was now outnumbered by the revolutionaries ten to three and outgunned besides. Without Clara''s intervention, they may well have executed him and his men on the spot. Despite all of that, his expression remained stern, implausibly in control.


    Gary, on the other hand, wilted with exhaustion. His face was soft, his eyes passively wild like a prey animal scanning for the dark hunter. Clearly, he was in shock, but currently, he was in control. The other revolutionaries looked likewise, they weren¡¯t trained soldiers, selected for their abilities. They were simply vault dwellers, technologically mollycoddled and sheltered from the carnage of the cataclysm above, with an added sprinkle of fanaticism. Despite that, they were the members of survivors with heavy weaponry.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Gary asked her.


    ¡°Sit down,¡± she said, pointing to a tall stool beside the workshop table. He and O¡¯Neil took a seat opposite one another. ¡°I¡¯m glad that the two of you have accepted me to lead this evacuation mission. I have the best resources, knowledge, and between me and Andy, we can kill that thing.¡±


    ¡°Your advice is welcome,¡± O¡¯Neil nodded. ¡°Can¡¯t fault you so far, young lady.¡±


    ¡°But I can fault you,¡± Clara said, giving time for the words to sink in. ¡°I need you two to work together. I shouldn¡¯t really have to say that really, should I? It¡¯s obvious.¡±


    Gary bowed his head, but O¡¯Neil looked at Clara unfaltering. Clara tried to read his expression. His air of authority had intertwined with arrogance. Clearly, he felt that he had done nothing wrong.


    ¡°Control your soldiers,¡± Clara told him. It must have struck a nerve, because the stocky officer lowered his gaze. ¡°And for God¡¯s sake talk to one another. I don¡¯t care what happened six hours ago before we arrived, or a week, or a month, or nine years. Right now, you¡¯re fighting to survive. Get in gear. Unite. Control your people,¡± Clara addressed Gary. ¡°No bickering. I won¡¯t tolerate it.¡±


    Gary scowled. ¡°This goes a lot deeper than you know. Those prisoners were locked up just for speaking out against-¡±


    ¡°Andy and I can leave right now, if you¡¯d like, let you get on with your little revolution. We can close the vault doors behind us, and lock you down here to sort out your differences.¡± She sighed. ¡°We¡¯re offering you our help. No¡­ actually, we¡¯re offering you our services. You¡¯re our employer now, both of you, as representatives of this vault. We¡¯re your mercenaries, we¡¯re here to do a job. Don¡¯t get in the way.¡± Clara rose from the workbench. ¡°Once we¡¯ve finished modifying the shock weaponry, we¡¯re going to move out as a unit. Gary, supervise the redistribution of ballistic weapons. There¡¯s no point your revolutionaries having all of the firepower. How many of them are even trained to shoot a gun?¡±


    Gary¡¯s expression sank. ¡°We won¡¯t just submit-¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m asking you to do,¡± Clara said. ¡°Distribute the rifles evenly. Gather into teams. Get ready to move out.¡±


    ¡°Teams of six,¡± O¡¯Neil said. ¡°Works best in the corridors.¡±


    Gary nodded along. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Those who can fight, gather them up. These two of you are in charge of making the teams. Only people who are trained to use rifles get to carry them. I don¡¯t want guns going off behind me in these corridors because someone¡¯s trigger happy or frightened. Also, each team should be armed with a variety of weaponry. Rifles, batons, tasers. We¡¯re not sure yet what exactly will work best against the demon.¡±


    ¡°We can do that,¡± O¡¯Neil said, fixing Gary with a look. ¡°Right? Happy to share?¡±


    ¡°Um, yeah. No issue.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Clara said. ¡°Am I right in thinking there¡¯s one main elevator in the vault?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± O¡¯Neil said. ¡°The main elevator shaft connects every level. Then there¡¯s two more shorter elevators, the one we used to come from Admin Sec to the workshop, and one on the other end of this level which goes down from Hydroponics to the kitchens in Habitation Sec.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so the main elevator will be the fastest method of escape?¡±


    ¡°Affirmative.¡±


    ¡°How long does it take to travel to the top from Habitation Sector?¡±


    O¡¯Neil paused, looking at Gary for confirmation. ¡°About a minute?¡±


    ¡°About that,¡± Gary said.


    ¡°Okay, so two minutes to travel from Hab to Admin sec and back?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s pretty slow,¡± Clara said. ¡°Okay. What I want is to post teams of soldiers at the main elevator entrance on levels one, two and three. We¡¯ll use the Hydroponics level as a stop-off point for evacuees. That way, we¡¯ll have to wait less time for the elevator to travel back down to Habitation Sector with each new load of civilians. Plus, the elevator will be ready quicker if the soldiers guarding Habitation Sec need to retreat.¡±


    ¡°That makes sense,¡± O¡¯Neil said.


    ¡°What about the people who can¡¯t fight?¡± Gary asked.


    ¡°They¡¯ll go to Admin Sec. Seems to be the safest place in the vault currently. Gary, I want you to be in charge of that. Once we have the modified shock weaponry, send a team of six people you trust to escort them upstairs.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°We play it by ear,¡± Clara continued. ¡°O¡¯Neil, I¡¯ll want you to go down to Level Three. Help people escape. Think you can do that?¡±


    ¡°Just waiting for the yellow-jackets to give me a shock rifle.¡±


    ¡°Andy and I will remain here, ready to support either level when necessary. Survival takes precedent,¡± she continued, driving her point home while she had them both listening and agreeing on something. ¡°The two of you have had it pretty good down here in this vault for a while, whether you know it or not. So, let me be the first to officially welcome you to the apocalypses. Get your shit together. You won¡¯t have a second chance.¡±


    ¡°Hey Clara,¡± Andy called from across the room. ¡°Checkov¡¯s deodorant can.¡±


    Clara patted the workbench to conclude the meeting and turned to Andy, trying to spot what he was pointing at amongst the storage rack of workshop supplies. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Remember that deodorant I used with a lighter to burn those plants a few weeks ago?¡±


    ¡°Erm, yeah.¡±


    Andy hefted a canister off the shelf. There were two more beside it, each painted red with warnings messages written on their surface. ¡°Reckon this is flammable?¡±

 Chapter 55 - Evacuation

    The elevator doors closed, sealing O¡¯Neil and twelve other vault dwellers inside. They were armed with the first addition of modified weapons: stun batons which sparkled like a white flares, tasers which emitted bursts of static electricity, riot gear armour, shields and four assault rifles. O¡¯Neil himself was armed with the first of the shock rifles which the mechanics had inspected for combat readiness, another of his men was armed with the second. That left one more in the workshop. Clara supposed they¡¯d be the strongest thing they had against the shadow demon.


    O¡¯Neil¡¯s face was stern. He gave Clara a curt nod as the doors pressed together in their centre, and the elevator shaft ran down.


    In the workshop, Gary was deciding on who would make the cut for his combat teams. Not many of the survivors inspired much confidence in Clara, but their task was the easiest: guard the Admin Sec elevator shaft up to the surface and protect the civilians already rescued. Meanwhile, the engineers had spread their work across three worktops, dividing tasks amongst those who could help, creating a bootleg factory-line production of the modified shock weapons.


    As Clara walked amongst them, her attention was stolen by Andy. He was flitting around the workshop, grabbing bits and bobs for the little project he was working on, talking animatedly with Gabriel over the radio. The communication line was intended for the mechanics, not him, but Clara knew better than to interrupt his flow. Perhaps he was onto something with those flammable canisters. Fishing through duffel bags of gear taken from the security stations above, Clara replaced the radio which Andy had taken, tuning it to the specific channel and placing it on the central worktop.


    ¡°-constant flame. I don¡¯t want spurts.¡± Andy¡¯s voice buzzed over the radio, echoing four-seconds later from where he stood across the workshop. ¡°What should I fix it to?¡±


    ¡°Have you seen anything with a trigger?¡± Gabriel said over the channel. ¡°A power washer, or a paint gun?¡±


    ¡°A paint gun¡­¡±


    ¡°More from low-sec,¡± someone shouted behind her. Clara excited the workshop into the adjoining tunnel, and watched as four bloodied and beaten survivors excited the elevator. Clara helped carry an elderly woman into the workshop, where others attended to them. The old woman¡¯s grey hair was plastered with blood, one eye was swollen shut. She wobbled and swayed, mouth agape. Clara¡¯s hand lingered on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her body in her palm. A cold thought occurred to her: she doubted the old woman would make it out alive.


    ¡°Erm, Clara.¡± Gabriel¡¯s voice pressed against her stupor.


    Clara turned away from the survivors and lifted the radio tiredly to her ear. ¡°Copy.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a problem. My cameras went out. There¡¯s only a few remaining in Habitation Sector, and none of them have a clear sight of the elevator.¡±


    ¡°Did you see anything before the camera cut off?¡±


    ¡°Flashing lights.¡±


    Clara unclipped her second radio which she¡¯d pilfered from the security stocks and radioed O¡¯Neil. ¡°What¡¯s your situation?¡± The feed was quiet. Clara checked the radio¡¯s dials, then realised they weren¡¯t set to the channel she had thought. Perhaps they¡¯d gotten knocked? What channel had they agreed on? Clara froze, then checked each of the handsets nine local channels one at a time, asking the question and waiting ten seconds for a response.


    ¡°-kill it but the flashlights aren¡¯t enough.¡± O¡¯Neil¡¯s shouted down the feed, his voice punctuated by the sound of gunfire.


    ¡°Repeat that.¡±


    ¡°The thing¡¯s evolving. We¡¯re killing it how we can. More people heading your way.¡±


    ¡°Evolving how?¡± Clara asked, waiting by the elevator. When no response came, she transferred to her other radio and pressed the transmission button, but found she had nothing specific to ask Gabriel. Releasing the button, she stood in the tunnel, looking through the window into the workshop, listening to the muted sounds within. She watched people¡¯s mouths moving, but due to the tight seal on the doors and windows, only a murmur reached her ears. A vent hummed quietly above her head, blowing cold air down her neck. Clara adjusted her ponytail underneath her cap, making sure her fringe was all tied up, and retied the laces on her boot. She remained kneeling, listening to her own breath. She could feel the two men posted outside the elevator staring at her, but she didn¡¯t care. Her heart sank. Suddenly, she felt out of it, like none of this was real. Not exactly like a memory or a dream, just not real. It was as though she could see herself kneeling on that vault floor, shotgun slung over her shoulder beside her backpack.


    She thought about turning her hand over, and a second later, it obeyed her. There was grime under her fingernails and in the cracks on her palm. Calluses blotched her pale skin. A white scar cut through the flesh connecting her thumb and forefinger where she had cut herself with a knife trying to open a can of food years ago. Closing her fist, she compressed the energy within her palm. Glowing yellow light seeped through her fingers, hot like a stone plucked from a campfire. She felt the energy throng throughout her body, exciting the branches of her nervous system, breathing light into the recesses of her body. Clara closed her eyes again, clenching the light. She could do this. She could help them. She and Andy could make it out alive. They had to try.


    The elevator door opened before her. Clara jumped up, ready to help carry the injured out. A young girl wailed over her mothers¡¯ shoulder. The child¡¯s face was twisted with such ruin of grief that Clara had not seen since the days of the cataclysm. ¡°Daddy,¡± she screamed, over and over again, as her mother carried her into the workshop. Clara let them go, watching the doors close behind her, cutting the little girl''s screams off, sealing them on the other side.


    ¡°I¡¯ve spotted something in Life Support Sector.¡± Clara heard Gabriel¡¯s voice distant over the radio. ¡°People are moving into the stairwell.¡±


    ¡°How many?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to see. I¡¯ve adjusted the video¡¯s exposure, but I can¡¯t spot any details.¡±


    ¡°Rough numbers?¡±


    ¡°Five? Six?¡±


    Clara switched radios, opening the channel to O¡¯Neil. ¡°You¡¯ve got some people coming from Life Support Sector below, taking the stairs.¡±


    Her radio crackled twice, conveying a confused smatter of sounds, like gravel being poured onto glass. The third time, O¡¯Neil¡¯s voice cut through the static. ¡°Affirmative.¡±


    The workshop doors activated with a hiss, opening the floodgates on distress within. Gary approached her, his expression the same diluted shock as before. ¡°We¡¯re ready.¡±


    ¡°Are the weapon mods done?¡±


    Gary nodded mutely.


    ¡°You know your mission, right?¡±


    He nodded again.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    Gary looked around, then pointed over his shoulder. ¡°Escort them upstairs.¡±


    ¡°And guard the elevator,¡± Clara confirmed. She wondered if she had made the right choice in reinforcing Gary¡¯s self-imposed leadership. Clearly, he was in over his head. But it was too late for that now. Clara glanced at his troupe through the window. Six men were dressed in riot-grade armour, bearing the modified batons and tasers. More beside them held flashlights, flares, and even laser pointers, for what good they might do. But at least they were armed. Gary and two others bore assault rifles. Among them was the young man with a blonde moustache, now splattered with crimson where Andy had headbutted him and broken his nose. The arch between his eyes had swelled purple, but it was minor injury compared to what some of the civilians had faced.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Clara said. ¡°We¡¯ll see you up there soon. Keep the radio active, channel four. Update me if anything changes.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Gary said, setting off towards the short elevator shaft which led upwards to the security stations in Admin Sec. The civilians gathered in the workshop trailed after him, carrying their injured, and their melancholy, with them. Within a minute, the room was quiet again. Clara re-entered the workshop and watched the engineers at work. One of them soldered hasty modifications onto the shock rifle while another fiddled with the electronics on a taser. Andy had stolen the third mechanic away to help him work on his own little project with the hazardous canister.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Clara¡¯s radio with O¡¯Neil buzzed, but no one spoke. ¡°Come in?¡± she said, looking around the room, waiting for a response. At the workbenches, a handful of vault dwellers remained, including the three revolutionary soldiers Clara had instructed to help earlier. They had since relinquished their assault rifles to members of the assault teams, and had busied themselves with jamming screwdrivers under protective casings, breaking safety seals, sorting through parts and gathering battery packs from non-dangerous devices. Two more men were on standby beside the main elevator shaft, however they were not yet armed with any of the modified weaponry. Everything had so far been given to the two teams on Level One and Three. Their floor was the last to receive arms, they were scavenging from the leftovers.


    The radio buzzed again. Unlatching her radio with Gabriel, she asked, ¡°What¡¯s the situation downstairs?¡±


    ¡°I can see people in the middle of the room. They¡¯ve moved through a canteen area. They¡¯re shooting at things. I can¡¯t see what, it¡¯s too dark and blurry. They¡¯re heading inside a small building. The cameras inside are labelled kitchens.¡±


    ¡°And the elevator?¡±


    ¡°There are flashes of light. Still not a good camera feed on it.¡±


    ¡°O¡¯Neil, what¡¯s your situation?¡± Clara said into the second radio. ¡°Do you need relief?¡±


    There was no response. Clara waited for three breaths, then approached Andy. ¡°You ready to rock?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, give me a minute,¡± he said, turning to the mechanic. ¡°Jam it in there.¡±


    ¡°Can it wait?¡± Clara said. ¡°I think that shock rifle is ready to use.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, it won¡¯t be as cool as this.¡±


    Clara looked at the device they were working on. Strapped to Andy¡¯s rucksack was a battery pack, from which a thick cable ran to a trigger activated welding torch. A snub-nosed spray gun intended for paint had been jury rigged with one of the flammable canisters Andy had found, tied together with duct-tape. ¡°At least the shock rifle will work.¡±


    ¡°Have ye no faith?¡± Andy said.


    The doors to the workshop opened. One of the men positioned in the tunnel outside called into the room. ¡°More people coming.¡±


    Clara strode over to the elevator, a sudden spike of anxiety fluttering her breath. Monsters and demons, she could handle any day, but seeing this much suffering was starting to take its toll. She took a deep breath. The elevator pinged.


    The doors began to open, but the lights inside the chamber were dark. Suddenly, the bulbs above her head burst. The doors jammed half-open. The two men posted outside scrambled for the light. Clara¡¯s radio buzzed, but all of her attention was focussed on the shape shifting inside the elevator. A bloated hand grasped the doorway and wrenched it open. Sharp bones jutted out of its fingertips like snapped branches. Black scar tissue pitted the skin of its arm, like a tattoo depicting a human-like face. Two black oval eyes, nostrils, and a gaping hole for a mouth stretched tight over bruised purple flesh, from which protruded a swollen black tongue.


    Clara flung her shotgun around and started blasting. She emptied eight shells into the elevator while backing up. Each shot lit the chamber with a spasm of light, revealing a swollen abomination recoiling inside the pit. Once emptied, Clara reached for her sidearm, but found her holster empty once again. Clara stood her ground and gazed inside the elevator. The monster had shrank beneath her volley of fire. Black gore spattered the walls around the entryway. A thick, wet limb flopped onto the floor, inhumanly long and grotesquely misshapen. Streams of black shadow spiralled up its length, swimming in the darkness of the elevator chamber. Suddenly, it lurched forward, more limbs grasping at the ceiling and walls, climbing into the vault tunnel after her.


    ¡°¡®Scuse me,¡± Andy said, stepping past her. The air filled with the smell of fuel as he sprayed the abomination with a stream of liquid, then lit the welding torch. Flames spread through the liquid stream, wreathing the monster in fire. It writhed, limbs flailing in the crackling heat, smoke filtering into the vents overhead. Andy chuckled, his voice rising and echoing over the inferno.


    Clara began to reload her shotgun out of habit, then remembered her Augmention¡¯s abilities. Clenching her fist, she grasped a dense electrical charge, the first step in activating her Thunderclap ability. But she had no intention of discharging it like a flashbang. What she needed was a grenade. Condensing the energy until she could barely hold it, Clara envisioned a powerful epicentre to the orb with a large pressurised aura around it. She wanted the neutral aura to act almost as a fuse, containing the energy at its centre just long enough that the orb could be thrown towards her target. Interlocking her fingers, she clenched her hands, pressing the charge into her stomach, tensing her biceps against the strain. Andy cackled like a madman beside her, drenching the monster in flames. Smoke filled the tunnel, obscuring her view, but she could sense it looming behind the veil. Whether the darkness of shadow touched, it grew in strength.


    Bracing herself, Clara launched her orb towards the abomination. It lanced through the air like a missile, sinking beneath the demon¡¯s malformed flesh, then exploded in a brilliant flash of light. A rain of half-cooked flesh pattered like rainfall as the beast thumped to the floor. Its long misshapen limbs twitched then went limp. Smoke stung her eyes. Clara crouched and prepared another Thunderclap grenade, but the demon was still. Vents in the ceiling activated, sucking the smoke out of the room. Clara felt her heart race. She licked her lips. ¡°That¡¯s not a shadow.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve always got to one-up me,¡± Andy said. He hooked the blowtorch onto his belt and drew his revolver, nudging one of the thing¡¯s limbs with his boot. ¡°Pretty, huh?¡±


    ¡°What is that thing?¡± Clara shook herself. She was starting to sound like the vault dwellers. Activating her radio, she tried to contact O¡¯Neil, but the channel was dead. ¡°Did you see that¡±? she asked Gabriel on the other radio.


    ¡°I did. Is it dead?¡±


    ¡°Are there more of them?¡± Clara asked. ¡°Check the video feeds. Tell me if there¡¯s more. Wait, where did this one come from? Habitation Sec?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ How¡­¡± he stammered. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s dark down there.¡±


    ¡°Are there any survivors? Are there any lights on?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Gabriel said. ¡°There¡¯s still at least one team fighting down there. Some lights are on in the gym and dorm rooms. There¡¯s pockets of survivors, it seems. I only have access to five-percent of the cameras now.¡±


    ¡°We need to get down there,¡± Clara said. ¡°Finish the evacuation.¡± Taking one last look at the smoking mess, Clara entered the workshop. Surprisingly, none of the survivors had fled. The three vault dwellers armed with assault rifles had been standing beside the window, watching the fight. She was grateful for their timidity¨Chad they jumped in, they may have caught Andy and her in the crossfire. The engineers huddled behind one of the workbenches. One of the men clutched the shock rifle in his hands, jaw clenched shut. Everyone looked at Clara, waiting for her to say something.


    ¡°Who has family down there?¡± she asked.


    The vault dwellers each responded mutely, nodding their heads.


    ¡°Arm yourselves. You.¡± She pointed at the engineer wielding the shock rifle. ¡°Know how to use that?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then stick by my side. Take point. Don¡¯t fire it if anyone is standing in front of you. The rest of you, take the rear. We¡¯re going down there to hold the elevator exit and get everyone else out.¡±


    Her audience looked at one another, their expressions gaunt. ¡°There¡¯s people waiting for us to rescue them.¡± Clara clapped her hands. ¡°Snap to.¡±


    Is this a bad time to interrupt? The voice chimed inside her head. At first, Clara thought it had come from her radio, but then recognised the tone and remembered her artificial intelligence implant.


    Turning her back to the room, under her breath she said ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    It seems you have quickly mastered the Thunderclap ability and developed its effects beyond its original parameters. I have been developing a programme alongside your experimentation, classification: Thunderlance. The programme is incomplete. Please continue to experiment with this ability, so that I can gather data and refine the code.


    ¡°Okay. What happens once you¡¯ve finished?¡±


    The Thunderlance ability will operate more optimally, with a reduction in charge time and increase in energy efficiency. However, this will require a recalibration at an Augmentation Master Console in order to install.


    ¡°Noted.¡±


    Furthermore, recalibrate to avoid the change of DNA corruption.


    Clara snorted. ¡°Not worried about that right now.¡±


    Chance of DNA corruption currently at one-percent.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Clara shook her head. ¡°Be quiet.¡± She was starting to see how the AI voices always bugged Andy. Stepping out into the adjoining tunnel, she watched as Andy trounced about the fleshy wreck of the abomination, nudging its limbs with his boot, inspecting its corpse. It seemed to have a definable torso¨Ca centre to its mass from which its limbs sprouted¨Ccurrently lodged between the elevator doors, blocking their passage.


    Picking her way through the wreckage Andy¡¯s flamethrower and her Thudnerlance had caused, she flicked her wrist terminal onto the scanner which James had installed, and waved it around the elevator¡¯s gory interior. ¡°It¡¯s not radiated,¡± she read. ¡°That¡¯s a relief. Ready to kill some more?¡±


    ¡°Sure, I think the elevator¡¯s bust though.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s another elevator at the opposite end of Hydroponics,¡± Clara said, revising what O¡¯Niel had informed her of the vault¡¯s layout. ¡°It leads to a kitchen area in Hab. We¡¯ll use that to help evacuate the assault team, and anyone else we can.¡±


    ¡°You know what, I should never have doubted you.¡± Andy¡¯s black fringe covered his chalk-white face, but Clara caught an evil grin beneath the veil. ¡°This is fun.¡±

 Chapter 56 - Final Boss Fight

    Andy parted the opaque plastic strips with the barrels of his assault rifles and entered the massive Hydroponic warehouse. The fuel canister he had attached to his belt got caught in the plastic strips, tugging at his hip. Andy wrenched it free, wincing as the hot-end of the welder¡¯s torch grazed him under his jacket. He was carrying too much, he knew that. But how else was he going to engage this shadow demon thing properly¡­ professionally, without weidling two assault rifles akimbo and a DIY flamethrower backup with Julie to boot? He only wished he had room to throw one of those shock rifles into the mix, but alas, he was forced to stand aside and watch the vault techie use it. The tall, skinny man strode ahead of their little group, Clara beside him, directing the way.


    Andy kept a wide berth on the path, scanning the warehouse for movement. Huge pillars of plantlife rose to the ceiling on stems of UV light. Some of the bulbs flickered, but remained intact, casting a hazy blue aura in the humid air. A cart, half packed full of potted leafy greens, lay toppled and abandoned on the rubbery floor. Andy stepped around it, his gaze darting between the dark distant walls and the thin shadows at the base of each hydroponic fixture. However, to his disappointment, nothing emerged.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± the skinny shock-rifle techie said, pointing his special weapon down a district of flat walls, onto which clung vine tomatoes and a mix of berries. ¡°Something moved.¡±


    Clara fanned out, shotgun aimed at the empty space. Suddenly, the skinny techie opened fire. A flash of white hot electricity crackled through the air, bursting a bunch of tomatoes in a spray of red flesh. ¡°Hit!¡± Skinny shouted.


    ¡°Miss,¡± Andy corrected. ¡°There¡¯s nothing there, idiot.¡±


    ¡°I saw something.¡± His head swivelled around to face Andy. ¡°I think.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just tomatoes,¡± Andy said. ¡°Clara, it¡¯s just tomatoes.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yeah, I can see fine. Can¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a little dark.¡±


    ¡°Not for me. There¡¯s nothing there. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Andy took the lead, strolling through the vegetable highrise, scanning the shadows, trusting his reflexes to an ambush. They reached the other side without a hitch. Dipping beneath another opaque plastic gateway, he entered a large loading bay. It was abandoned too. All of the civilians on this floor must have already fled upstairs, under Clara¡¯s directions. Ahead, the wide elevator doors opened for them before they arrived. Honeyboy, the bunker techie, must be tracking their progress, assisting them remotely. Andy wondered what stakes he had in this. Clara had no doubt worked her magic on him and convinced him that helping them was in his interests. Whatever, as long as his tampering didn¡¯t get in the way.


    The large elevator doors closed behind their group without requiring input, then the room shook slightly as it travelled to the floor below. The doors opened on a dark tunnel. Quiet. Just three bulbs remained intact, one of them was flickering, pitting the walls with erratic shadow. Andy strode into the open, rifles akimbo, tickling the triggers.


    The silence broke with a static buzz. Honeyboy¡¯s voice came over an intercom in the ceiling. ¡°The demon thing is weak to lights, not so much physical damage. So think about torches, and flares¡­ I don¡¯t know if you have anything like that down in your vault. Oh, I guess I should explain who I am first, no, that¡¯s not important. Oh, and evacuees, I mean, people who can get safely to the workshop area on Level Two, should. Basically, yeah. Start fires, but don¡¯t burn yourselves, obviously¡­¡±


    It went on, rambling and repeating itself, ruining the eerie atmosphere. At the end of the corridor were two separate doors. The pop of gunfire sounded from somewhere distant. ¡°Open them,¡± Andy radioed to Honeyboy. The doors opened, and the sound of gunfire amplified, accompanied by distant shouts. Andy followed it into the room beyond, some sort of kitchen area. Sprinting past the worktops, Andy shoved aside a collapsed shelving unit and burst into the room beyond.


    Before him was a stomach-high counter squatting beneath a low ceiling, like a large pillbox bunker with a broad firing window, looking out on the massive Habitation sector. Beyond the counter was a canteen area which Andy recognised from earlier that day. The sounds of gunfire echoed off high ceilings in the habitation¡¯s main sector, accompanied by muzzle flashes and the sparks of electronic weaponry, stinging the dark looming walls. Plugged into the high ceiling, and inside the civilian quarters, a scatter of bulbs flickered tiredly, clinging to life.


    Andy jumped hands-first over the counter, spinning on his belly and crashing to the floor on the other side. Athletics were difficult without having his arms free. Getting to his feet, he ran through the canteen, kicking past flimsy chairs and tables towards the sounds of battle.


    ¡°Andy,¡± Clara shouted behind him, then radioed ¡°Be careful.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t make me,¡± Andy yelled back. Just then, something shot at him from the left. Andy let rip one of his rifles, peppering the dark blade with explosive light. He could see clearly in the dark. The thing¡¯s shape was unnaturally linear, like shards of shattered glass, jutting out of a black velvet blanket draped over the floor and several canteen tables. Its surface prickled and bulged as sharp shards of shadow emerged as though someone was stabbing the canvas with an arsenal of knives from beneath. One blade launched towards Andy. He ducked as it glanced off the shoulder of his leather jacket and brought both rifles around to bear. His rifle¡¯s muzzle flashes tore through the extended blade, separating it from its central mass. A fissure of faint orange light burned away at the shadow¡¯s edges, crumbling the severed blade into ash. Andy swivelled, firing upon the shard-pond. Each flash punched small craters of orange into its veil, but the volley of fire had little effect. Only when he traced a line with his shots and severed a shard of the shadow did it seem to suffer any real loss of mass, and therefore damage.


    The dark pool bubbled up, like a viper recoiling its neck to strike. A black lance shot towards him, seeking to skewer him through the stomach, then a dazzling blast of golden light hit them both. Andy blinked the spots of light from his vision as he saw a huge burning wound open up on the pooling shadow¡¯s surface. Clara was stalking the demon¡¯s flank, her hands pressed against her chest emitting a growing golden glow. The vault dwellers trailed her like moths drawn to a flame, electrical weapons discharging small blue sparks randomly into the darkness around them. Clara pitched another lightning bolt into the dark mass. The thunder stretched like an elastic band between them, then snapped forward and exploded, decimating the entity. Shards of shadow flung into the air weightlessly like ash, orange fire eating at their seams like crumpled, burning paper.


    Andy emptied one of his rifles into the remaining shards, cutting through them with precision arcs. He let one rifle hang on its strap while he re-loaded the empty weapon, taking from the magazines crammed into his jean pockets. Something more explosive would be a treat, but the vaulties had confiscated his grenade bandolier earlier. Julie and the DIY flamer would have to do.


    ¡°That way,¡± Clara said, pointing down the intersection. They were standing in the centre of the Habitation Sector now, at the centre of a cross forming four wide pathways. Lights flashed behind the windows of one of the large civilian quarters, punctuated by gunshots.


    In the relative quiet after gunfire, Honeyboy¡¯s transmitted message squawked over a dozen tiny intercoms like buzzing cicadas. ¡°Start fires, but don¡¯t burn yourselves, obviously¡­ Acquire bright lights and close the doors, and lock them shut, because help is on the way. So unlock the doors when that arrives, unless you think that maybe the demon is tricking you by knocking on the doors, as part of a deceiving trick to get you to open them¡­¡±


    ¡°Honeyboy, cut the safety lecture,¡± Andy raided. ¡°It¡¯s harshing my buzz.¡±


    The rambling ceased. Andy let Clara go ahead while he remained in the canteen, scanning the room at large. Puddles of black shadow spread across the walls worse than the black mould he remembered in his cousin¡¯s apartment as a kid. The entity¡¯s mass was denser than the rest of the darkness, as though they consumed the light itself. Blood licked the floor in patches, Andy could smell it. What surprised him was the lack of bodies. The canteen had been packed the last he knew, hundreds of people confined in this warehouse space. Following his nose, Andy spotted smatterings of flesh, like a butcher¡¯s offcuts, forming a cursed trail down one of the four paths. At the end of the path, behind a small fenced sports court, was a two-story building with the half-lit sign ¡®GY-NA-IUM¡¯. Mounds of flesh burst through shattered windows and cracked doorways like rising dough overflowing in a cake tin. From this distance, Andy couldn¡¯t see the details of the monster, but he knew a final boss fight when he saw one.


    ¡°I¡¯ll create a distraction,¡± Andy radioed, raising his rifles akimbo.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°That¡¯s not necessary,¡± Clara replied over the radio, her voice echoing across the room behind him. She and the vault dwellers had reached the civilian quarters, huddled together in a tight sphere against the wall.


    ¡°There¡¯s a big guy over here,¡± Andy yelled as he ran towards the gym. ¡°I¡¯m covering the flank.¡± That was something Clara often said. It was probably a good excuse. Besides, Clara would be safe without him. Her new Augmented powers were ideal for fighting the entity, she was probably better equipped than him, if not for his ingenious new flamethrower. Andy couldn¡¯t turn down a fight like this, he¡¯d never forgive himself.


    Dashing through the sports court, Andy kept to the centre of the corridor. His headlamp flickered and popped, but he could see well enough without it. The patches of corporeal shadow favoured the walls and balcony overhangs, well out of reach. He could see their angular forms writhing in the dark, congealing around him. He had maybe a couple minutes before they surrounded him. He knew it was dangerous, but he couldn¡¯t resist.


    Slowing to a stop, Andy beheld the gym. Purple, bloated and bruised flesh foamed within the building like a freshly poured pint of beer. The seams connecting metal wall panels cracked and snapped as limbs bulged through the gaps, widening them. A bolt shot into the air like a bullet as a doorway was lifted off its brackets, torn from the floor by hulking muscle and sinew. Shadows streamed out of the breach, followed by groping hands. Obsidian snakes writhed over its mass like arteries, forming pools of blackness inside its obese folds of flesh.


    Andy stared, stupefied. He wanted to take a photo, and fished into his pockets for a disposable camera which Clara sometimes made him carry on missions to provide evidence for their employers. Miraculously, it was still there, caught in the torn lining of one of his inner pockets. Winding the reel, Andy posed the shot in the viewfinder and pressed the button. But to his dismay, the flash did not work. He turned the camera over, and noticed a crack in the lends and plastic flash cover. ¡°That¡¯s a shame.¡±


    A fierce screech forced Andy to cover his ears. Before him, the gym gave way like a cracked dam, ripping and bursting open all at once. The abomination tore aside its metal prison, immense amorphous limbs stretching towards the ceiling. One limb, like an enormous elephant trunk, slammed down beside Andy, shaking the floor beneath his feet. Chucking the camera aside, Andy snapped both of his rifles up and opened fire.


    The fusillade of bullets tore into the abomination, spraying plumes of black fluid in the air, forming a fine mist. Andy searched for a weak spot, his Augmentation targeting programmes drawing his attention to random details: a person¡¯s head fused with the trunk-like limb so that its cheek and eye socket were mangled into a twisted snarl; a crop of hulking arms, the largest of which possessed three or four elbow joints a piece, grasped and clawed its carnal carriage towards him¨Ca bulbous thorax and protruding spine; high up, five metres off the floor, a scrap of pastel blue overalls were being swallowed by rolling folds of flesh, two legs protruding from the clothing being absorbed into the mass. As the abomination rose above him, a cavernous toothless maw opened in its centre. A stench of death washed over him.


    He could hear Clara¡¯s voice over his radio, but the sound was snuffed by his rifle¡¯s fire, and went quiet before the guns clicked dry. Wielding the rifles akimbo may have felt cool, but it hadn¡¯t been especially effective. It was hard to gauge how much damage he was inflicting on the abomination. Bullet wounds oozed blood and puss as severed limbs, cut by concentrated fire, streaming over its flesh. A mammoth limb slapped against the wall, humongous fingers worming their way through doors and windows, writhing over the balcony, gripping and dragging itself forward inexorably.


    Andy took a step backwards and slung his rifles over his shoulder. They just weren¡¯t cutting it. Snatching his radio, he opened the channel. ¡°You alright sis?¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± she said tersely. It was all the reassurance he needed.


    The creature stretched itself out of the confines of the gym, lumbering closer. Andy backed up, grinning with excitement. He unhooked his welder¡¯s torch and fuel-rigged paint sprayer. Pulling the trigger, a concentrated stream of liquid fuel shot forth. The pungent spray of fuel contended with the miasma of death. It reminded Andy of playing with water guns in his garden as a kid. He arched the fuel spray, trying to get it inside the beast¡¯s mouth, but the stream came up short, dousing its fleshy bib in acrid fumes.


    Another limb lifted out of the malformed folds and flopped beside Andy. The creature seemed encumbered by its own weight, like an obese factory farm animal that had never walked nor seen the light of day. Andy darted closer, bobbing and weaving as errant limbs attempted to snare him, until he was close enough to aim the spurt inside its mouth.


    Surrounded by a writhing pit of flesh, Andy activated the welding torch. The blue cone cast hellish shadows around him, igniting the liquid fuel spray of his canister, a storm inferno that wreathed the abomination in flames. Andy¡¯s face lit up with glee as eyes stared back, stretched and horrified. Andy spun, lost in the sauce, gripping the flamethrower¡¯s trigger in a frenzy. Gooey flesh pockets melted and burst, spraying him with viscera. The heat of the flames coated Andy¡¯s body in sweat.


    Something collided with him, but in the smoke and shadows, Andy was lost. A had closed around his leg. Andy angled the flamethrower downwards, singing his thighs as he freed himself. He stumbled and ducked as a massive limb swung overhead, dousing the protrusion in liquid fire.


    A tidal shudder rattled through the abomination¡¯s massive form as it recoiled in agony, raising its appendages to the roof. Then, at once, they cascaded upon him. A rush of adrenaline chased the taste of whiskey down Andy¡¯s throat as his Evasive Fire protocol activated, launching him into gear. Andy swivelled and ducked between the giant¡¯s attacks, dancing like an ember on the flames. Liquid fire droplets spattered the floor at his feet, setting puddles of fuel ablaze. It seemed, in his excitement, Andy had flung himself into the eye of the storm. Flames shot up his legs. Yelping, but not taking his fingers off the triggers, Andy fled backwards, wreathing fire in his wake. His back hit something spongy, but immoveable. His hair stuck to it as he peeled himself free. A fat hand grabbed him under the armpit. Andy kicked himself free, leather boots ablaze, sauteing his toes inside.


    Colliding through a passageway of flesh, Andy spun his flamethrower around. Liquid fire coughed up a torrent of choking smoke and caustic steam. Engorged limbs encircled him, snuffing and starving the torrential fire. Smoke erupted, filling his lungs. Andy choked and his eyes tung too much to see. At this rate, he¡¯d suffocated before the beast crushed him to death.


    Dropping the welding torch so that it trailed against the floor, Andy drew Julie and fired a Vortex Shot at the wall of flesh. The shockwave boomed with a gust of wind, clearing the smoke. It blew apart the creature like a quarry struck with dynamite, but failed to blast all the way through. Andy braced himself, taking a deep breath of the clearing air. He gripped Julie firm in his hand, aiming her beautiful muzzle into the blast crater.


    Reality warped as Andy drew his strength through her. Smoke funnelled into Julie¡¯s muzzle as the flames bent towards him, singing his hands and forearms. The heat was almost too much to bear, but Andy did not move, screaming in pain as he kept Julie on the edge of ecstasy. Flames lapped at his jacket, singing his jeans, burning his cheeks. His hair curled and crackled as he was cooked alive in a roast of his own making.


    Andy pulled the trigger and fired a Vortex Cannon at the revolting wound. It blew apart with a tremendous backdraft, quenching the flames engulfing him. The blowback sent Andy skidding backwards, but he was ready for it. Falling into a crouch, Andy toppled forward into a sprinter¡¯s crouch, then dashed towards the gaping wound. The fleshy tunnel dripped with gore like a dank cave as Andy was birthed on the other side. Holstering Julie, he lashed the welding torch up via its cable and bathed his foe in flames. He swayed back and forth to an inaudible rhythm, a primal tune in his heart as a flickering sun rose on Habitation Sector. Smoke billowed from the amorphous mass as the fires spread, a rain of liquid fire cooking it alive. The air hummed with a gargantuan moan¨Clike the agony of a thousand people, gagged so that their screams could not vocalise. The mass shivered in the white hot flames, and the moan rose to a sonorous wail¨CAndy¡¯s concerto crescendo.


    Distantly, he could hear Honeyboy and Clara chattering over the radio strapped to his chest, like unruly audience members in the rafters. He was far too mesmerised by the fire before him to pay any attention. The meaty bonfire cast a storm of shadows about the high walls around him. Where the light touched, the darkness retreated, curling its sharp limbs into the crevices of walls and doorways. Black residue streamed from the abominations gargantuan form, forming puddles beneath its cavernous form. Andy backed up, firing spurts of flame at its dark, crispy corpse. Andy¡¯s mouth watered at the barbeque stench, but fought the urge to rip a strand of monster-jerky off and sample it. The canister felt light in his hand, it had all but run dry. He fixed it back on his belt, welding torch in his other hand, perveying his carnage.


    As the flames died down, a swarm of shadows formed around the monstrous corpse. A lake of blackness opened up beneath it, spreading like a flood.The darkness solidified, multiplied. Andy scowled. Shouldn¡¯t the demon be dead? Shouldn¡¯t the shadows stop moving? He¡¯d eviscerated it, hadn¡¯t he?


    A spear of blackness swam across the floor towards him, kicking its dagger tail like an attacking shark. Andy¡¯s Reflex Shot triggered and he fired Julie. Her powerful bullets ricocheted off the floor, but only the light of her muzzle damaged the shadow itself. The blade shot through the air, torn apart by Julie¡¯s explosion, ripped into black shards which dashed Andy¡¯s face like razors. His cheeks and eyes stung as he quickly reloaded Julie, blood dripping over his nose. Stepping backwards, he ducked as another blade struck him. The dagger pierced his leather jacket, but Andy arched his spine, narrowly avoiding his stomach from being sliced open. Pain struck him. Firing Julie at point blank range, Andy retreated. Why wasn''t the demon dead? He¡¯d burned it to death, hadn¡¯t he?


    Behind the black wreckage of the abomination¡¯s singed flesh, an enormous shadow reared its head, enveloping the walls and ceiling. It snuffed out Andy¡¯s victorious dawn bonfire like a candle flame, casting the vault into complete darkness. At once, Andy realised his error. He had been drawn in by the fleshy abomination¡¯s hideous allure, and missed the details. A vicious blackness swept forth from the mountainous charred corpse. It had not been the final boss fight, it had merely been a tool of the demon¡¯s true intelligence, constructed of flesh to cast a living shadow.


    And by setting it on fire, Andy had just made things a whole lot worse.

 Chapter 57 - Resignation

    The gunfire from Andy¡¯s rifles diminished as Clara ventured through the vault¡¯s habitation quarters. The door before Clara opened and closed on its pistons like chattering teeth, barring their way. Clara pressed her palm into the door¡¯s control panel, her Current Control module painting a picture of the circuitry¨Cshe knew just where to press to stall it. With a spark, it stopped moving. Shoving it aside, she darted into the chaos beyond. The civilian block rose five-stories above her head into the roof of Habitation Sec. Pockets of light defied the darkness¨Cpockets of survivors clinging to life. Clara ran towards a small rectangular courtyard beneath the column of balconies. Three people huddled back-to-back, armed with tasers, flashlights and firearms. Blood streaked down one man¡¯s face, his knees and head slumped as he staggered and absently batted at the darkness with an electrified baton.


    Clara arrived at their aid, clutching thunderous energy in her palms like two glowing golden boxing gloves. Her artificial intelligence had coined the ability Guiding Light, but against the shadow demon, her fists were as powerful as furnaces, eviscerating the dark. She threw her fists and felt the impact of the shadow like pools of water. Releasing light in arches, she waded through the dark, casting the shadows back. ¡°Here,¡± she shouted. ¡°Join us. We¡¯re evacuating.¡±


    Her team of combatants trailed her, assimilating the three newcomers into their group, assessing their injuries and briefing them on their plans. At first, Clara had just intended to hold the exit elevator, but she¡¯d been captured by cries for help, screams of pain. She couldn¡¯t turn her back on anyone that had survived. She had to rescue them all. O''Neill''s team was nowhere in sight. They were probably still alive, fighting inside one of the four civilian blocks.


    The fighting to get here had been tight, she couldn¡¯t risk electrocuting the survivors in a Teslatic Burst or Thunderlance. Instead, she pounced on the congealed darkness where she saw it, carving a path through the dark. Twice already, Clara had been cut by dark daggers. The wounds stung, but they were bearable. Her heart raced¨Cshe barely felt the pain. Here at least, in this small courtyard, they had some space.


    ¡°Hold this point,¡± Clara said, then pointed at three uninjured men, including the soldier with the shock rifle. ¡°You three with me. We¡¯ll rescue who we can.¡±


    A scream sounded shrill, reverberating off of cold metal walls. Clara winced, but gritted her teeth. A flash of light illuminated a window ahead. Clara ran inside the dorm room, like ducking into a cave, the small ceiling pressed down on her. A terrible void rose out of the floor at the back of the room, dagger limbs poised to strike at two people trapped in the corner. There was no time for caution, Clara pressed her hands together and surged the energy to breaking point, readying a Thunderlance. But before she could, the shadow demon struck at one of the survivors. Its dagger limb pierced his chest. He slammed his taser into the outstretched blade, shocking it with blue energy, severing the limb. Then he fell to his knees. Behind him, a woman shrieked, hands over her mouth, cowing in the corner.


    Clara launched her Thunderlance. It stretched across the room like a laser beam, then sprung forward, detonating with a flash as bright as a car¡¯s fog lights. Beside her, the engineer with the shock rifle opened fire, dousing the shadow demon¡¯s burning remains in bursts of electricity. Clara put her hand on the stock of his rifle, lowering it, before running through the scattered furniture towards the two survivors. The man was already still, dead. But he had bought a few seconds for the woman. She was curled up on the floor, shaking. Clara clenched a surge of golden electricity, casting her in a halo of protection, then patted her on the back. The woman lurched, eyes wide, and kicked Clara in the shins. Clara brought her Guiding Light close to her face, forcing her to lock eyes with her. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re the rescue team. We¡¯re evacuating the vault.¡±


    ¡°Lisa.¡± The vault dweller behind Clara reached out. ¡°Lisa, it¡¯s time to go.¡±


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Lisa said numbly, in shock.


    ¡°Outside,¡± the man said, reaching out. Lisa took his hand and crawled to her feet. She was bleeding badly from the stomach. Clara grimaced. She wouldn¡¯t survive, but at least she wouldn¡¯t die in the dark. Clara could do that much. Together, they backed out to the open balcony area.


    Glancing down, Clara checked that the majority of her force was still alive and defending their exit, then she climbed the stairs upwards towards another stab of light. Her heart raced. She was flushed hot with exertion and sticky with sweat.


    ¡°How many more survivors are there?¡± she radioed to Gabriel.


    ¡°Erm, I can see pockets of light on the camera feeds. Those that are still working anyway. Most of the cameras-¡±


    ¡°Gabriel,¡± Clara snapped, but he hadn¡¯t released his finger yet to receive a transmission. She couldn¡¯t interrupt him.


    ¡°-it seems, so given all of that, I can confirm about fifteen flashes, but predict maybe double that, going as high up as the fourth floor of this civilian block. The soldiers who ran down here into Habitation initially came here first, so this is where most of the survivors are. I don¡¯t think they managed to assist any of the other three civilian quarters. Those, erm¡­ There¡¯s less lights in there.¡±


    Finally, the transmission ended. ¡°Fifteen here?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s right. They were split up. The civilian population managed to use flashlights and little things like that for a while, but they have seemed to stop working.¡±


    Fifteen flashes of light. Fifteen places where people were fighting to survive.


    ¡°Your brother,¡± Gabriel radioed. ¡°I think you should know, he¡¯s fighting something¡­ freakish.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Something meaty¡­ Well, something like¡­ Have you ever seen Akira?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Have you ever read the manga?¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Never mind. It¡¯s like¡­ a lot of flesh.¡±


    ¡°Is he winning?¡±


    ¡°I think so, wait. Okay, I¡¯m not so sure.¡±


    Clara ran down the balcony towards where she had seen a glimmer of light in the window at the opposite end. ¡°You hearing this, Andy?¡± The radio channel was silent, but she knew not to worry. He could handle himself.


    Approaching another dorm room, Clara tapped the control panel. It opened for her obediently, and she dashed inside. Clara used her Guiding Light to wave a golden glow across the room, her headlamp providing a pale assisting shimmer. It was empty, but an orange glow permeated from the bottom of a corridor beyond. The civilian quarters felt like a maze, Clara still hadn¡¯t gotten used to their layout. So many of the rooms looked the same, with the same furniture and features, then out of nowhere, there would be an adjoining corridor or staircase or dead end. It hardly mattered though, she was drawn towards the dwindling lights, wherever they survived. As for getting lost, so long as people guarding the exit remained where they were, shining torches and firing tasers, she would be able to find her way back out.


    Jogging down the corridor with her men in tow, Clara kept her bright fists at the ready. The stench of smoke filled the air, fumes pooling on the ceiling, following invisible currents to the suction fans whirring in ventilation systems. She reached the doorway and peered inside. A fire was burning in the centre of the room, consuming the carcass of a mattress and bedframe. Smoke filled the room, too thick for the vents to clear in time. A group of people huddled at the back of the room. A family: two adults and three children, one of whom was a teenage girl just a little younger than Clara.


    ¡°Come to me,¡± Clara said. ¡°We¡¯re evacuating the vault.¡±


    The adults rose, shadows dancing up the wall behind them, cast by the firelight. Clutching their youngest, they ran around the room¡¯s edge towards her. Clara¡¯s eyes stung from the smoke. She fought to keep them open¨Cto look out for threats¨Cbut tears blurred her view. A soft body brushed past hers. She followed the civilian back out into the corridor, where the smoke was thinner. Rubbing her eyes, making sure to keep her fists clenched so as to contain the light within, she retreated into the living room with the family. ¡°Are there any more of you?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the father said. ¡°On the upper levels.¡± He had blue eyes which twinkled in the glow of her headlamp, swimming with intensity. A young child buried his face in his arms. ¡°Do you have any weapons?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll protect you,¡± Clara said, nodding towards the two remaining vault dwellers accompanying her. ¡°Stick together.¡± She ran back into the balcony area and pointed at the nearby stairs. ¡°Take them to the main group. Guard the exit. I¡¯ll join you in a bit.¡±


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± asked the engineer with the shock rifle.


    Clara glanced around the open balcony space. No lights were visible on this level anymore, but a glimmer shone on the ceiling high above. ¡°Up another level.¡±


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t split up,¡± the other vault dweller of her team said. ¡°We¡¯re useless without you.¡±


    ¡°Rejoin the larger group,¡± Clara repeated bluntly. ¡°Hold the exit and fend them off.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t fight them,¡± the man said. His voice shook with panic and he slurred his words. ¡°What, with this?¡± He held up the modified taser he was wielding, a circular riot shield in his other hand. ¡°I can¡¯t do that. I can¡¯t kill them with this.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve saved everyone we can,¡± the engineer said.


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong,¡± Clara snapped. ¡°These are your family and friends, right? You¡¯d abandon them like that.¡±


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    ¡°My family¡¯s fucking dead,¡± the engineer said woodenly. Tears welled in his eyes, but his expression was a void. ¡°Why did you come here?¡±


    Clara¡¯s heart sank, but she swallowed the guilt. ¡°Shit happens. We¡¯ve got to deal with this.¡±


    One of the men wielding a taser clutched a child to his hip, sheltering her behind his riot shield. Her eyes were as crazed. The man glanced upwards through the maze of balconies and rooms, then shook his head. The others were as still as him. They¡¯d already given up and cut their losses.


    ¡°Then go,¡± Clara hissed, shoving past them. ¡°I¡¯ll do my job.¡± She ran up a nearby staircase onto the second floor and radioed to Gabriel, ¡°Direct me.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t see anything.¡±


    Clara ran through the dark, burning a path with her Guiding Light, scanning for a penetrating light. The rooms encircling the balcony area were all dark except for tiny dashes of LED light, like blinking stars in a cloudy sky. ¡°The third floor then?¡±


    ¡°Yes, two areas of interest. Two places where there¡¯s light, that is.¡±


    ¡°Keep it snappy,¡± she growled. He was hogging the transmission. She wanted to lecture Gabriel on airwaves etiquette, but didn¡¯t have the time. ¡°Direct me.¡± Reaching the staircase, Clara began to climb when a sound distracted her. There was fighting beneath her, the crackle of tasers and shouts of men. A girl screamed. Clara stole a glance at the courtyard two stories below. Her team had rejoined the survivors, clumped like cattle protecting their young. Those armed with weapons had taken to the front of the group, darting in and out of the darkness, thrusting the super-charged tasers at semi-corporeal shadows, which spat back at them with razor sharp claws, closing in.


    Shaking with the effort, Clara summoned an orb of Guiding Light and cast it down over the courtyard. It flickered and dimmed as it drifted through the shadows, but burned them away, buying the survivors another minute or two. Clara¡¯s knees wobbled as a heat dizzied her vision. Gripping the balcony railing, she steeled herself and started out even before her vision returned. A glimmer reflected in a nearby window. Clara ducked inside the dark room, forcing an electrical glow into her fists.


    Upturned furniture displayed a scene of carnage. Bodies littered the floor, twisted and frozen. Clara tore her eyes from the destruction, focussing on one of the connecting rooms. ¡°Survivors?¡± she shouted.


    Flashes of light responded, sieving through a small fist-sized crack in the jammed door. Clara vaulted over a couch and grabbed the door, bracing her foot against the frame, trying to rip it open, but it wouldn¡¯t budge. Instead, she pressed her palm into the door¡¯s control panel. Static electricity shot up her spine and down her arms, prickling her fingertips. The tesla electricity felt distinct to her thunder abilities; it was more erratic in nature, surging through her nervous system like the circuitry of a motherboard, whereas her thunder abilities such as Guiding Light and Thunderlance amplified in waves of condensed electricity, much easier to contain and direct.


    The small display panel glitched, spewing a string of gibberish as sparks flickered from her fingertips into its circuitry. The door remained jammed.


    ¡°Help!¡± The sound came from the room beyond, followed by flashes of light. The voice as familiar, though coated in panic. ¡°O''Neil?¡± Clara yelled, peaking through the crack, scanning the darkness.


    She activated her radio. ¡°Gabriel?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t open the door,¡± he radioed. ¡°It¡¯s not responding.¡±


    ¡°You good sis?¡± Andy chimed in.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she said. But before she could have a go at Andy for going off on his own, something slammed against the door from the other side. Clara jumped, then O¡¯Neil¡¯s face appeared in the crack. ¡°Help me!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying,¡± Clara said, zapping the control panel again, this time giving it some more juice. The device sparked as its circuits overloaded. That had worked before on doors in the vault, but not this one. The metal panel remained lodged in place. Clara braced against the door again, as O¡¯Neil gripped the other side, trying to pry it open. It wouldn¡¯t budge more than a handspan. Clara scanned the room of a crowbar-like device, but the room was dark and scarce.


    ¡°Fuck, this is it.¡± O¡¯Neil¡¯s arm appeared before her, pressing through the gap up to his shoulder. His cheek pressed against the gap, and the corner of his mouth stretched over the frame. He panted, staring at Clara wide eyed and red faced. ¡°My Janey, did you get Janey?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°My girl!¡± He heaved, gritting his teeth.


    Clara pulled on the door with all of her strength. She could feel the door¡¯s gears grinding reluctantly.


    The door jolted on its tracks. O¡¯Neil stuck his chest through the gap, wiggling to get his hips through. Then his spine arched and he screamed in pain. He grabbed Clara¡¯s arm, fingernails digging through her combat jacket. His jaw clenched, face vibrating, eyes bulging out of his skull, drilling into hers. Then he released his grasp and fell halfway to the floor, jammed limply between the door and its frame.


    Blackness oozed over his corpse like oil leaking from a shattered engine. Clara took a step backwards, shocked. Minutes ago, he¡¯d been alive. O¡¯Neil had been hopeful, and he¡¯d followed her orders bravely. And this was his fate.


    Clara¡¯s heart pounded, each beat wobbled her vision. A tide of emotion welled up inside her, but she pressed it down. Not now, not yet. Backing away from the door, she retreated into the balcony area. A cold resignation froze her limbs. Numbly, like watching through the eyes of a waking dream, her mind trod familiar pathways. Ever practical, she took stock of their situation, making a quick tactical assessment. Above her, the orange glow of fire had faded to a soft shimmer, only visible in her peripheries. There were definitely more people up there, trapped and fighting for their lives. But she couldn¡¯t save them, let alone find them in the dark.


    More screams. Men roared¨Ca swell of fear and anger. Something clattered against the floor. ¡°Help!¡±


    Clara lingered beside the staircase, then circumvented it, heading downwards. The distance from one stair to the next felt like falling down a canyon. Her heart sank, and the golden glow of her Guiding Light diminished to a muddy bronze. That was it then. That was all she could do. This was the limit of her powers.


    Swallowing the dread was like passing a stone down her throat. Steeling herself, she ran.


    A dark rippling river streamed down the walkway pillars, flooding into the courtyard where the survivors were gathered, fighting for their lives. The pool coalesced in patches, forming cruel stabbing arms which shot at the survivors. One man had fallen on his back, raising his riot shield to his chest, jamming his taser into the floor beneath him. The weapon sent shockwaves through the blackness, which stabbed at him furiously, glancing off his shield and piercing his legs. He screamed and kicked at it as two more vault dwellers were attempting to drag him backwards by his collar.


    Clara condensed the Guiding Light in her hands into a powerful Thunderlance and threw it into the black river as she leapt from the balcony. The explosion bore a flaming hole in its centre, sending a shockwave through its surface, bright sparks showering it like shrapnel. Dagger forms collapsed into the shadow like the sails of ships sinking below the sea. Clara landed and rolled to her feet. She had injured the demon, but still, streams of the black liquid-like substance streamed down from above, gathering on the floors and walls.


    ¡°Run!¡± she screamed. Channelling teslatic energy, Clara¡¯s fingers splayed uncontrollably as blue lightning slashed out of them. She braced herself, rattled by the energy sweeping through her. Each Teslatic Burst burned the air above her, lighting a thousand small fires in the shadow¡¯s encroaching form. She gasped between each burst, pumping the energy through her body like a hose, then when she could take no more, she turned and ran for the exit.


    It felt as though she was wading through sand. Her body was on fire, she had sweated through her combat jacket. She relied on her headlamp to guide the way, too weak to summon a Guiding Light. Ahead, the rush of bodies reached her in the dark. Clara followed the noises, trying to remember the path out.


    Danger, Ohm chimed. Overload detected. Reduce the usage of uncalibrated Augmentation powers.


    ¡°Not possible,¡± Clara said, bursting through a door into the wide open space of Habitation sector. The sound of gunfire echoed through the cavernous space. ¡°Andy, do you read me?¡± she radioed, pushing to the head of the group of survivors, coming up alongside the engineer wielding the shock rifle. There was no reply over the feed. ¡°Gabriel, what¡¯s Andy¡¯s status?¡±


    Gabriel¡¯s voice came in over the radio in chunks of static.


    ¡°Do you read?¡± she repeated.


    ¡°-control-¡± he said. ¡°-mainframe is- -delays in the- -hello?¡±


    ¡°Do you read me Gabiel?¡± Clara said.


    Clara turned towards the sound as muzzle flashes and spotted Andy standing at the edge of the canteen, wielding an assault rifle in each of his hands. All about him, shadows loomed in the fading light of some huge bonfire at the bottom of one of the main corridors. Smoke billowed in the high ceiling like foreboding storm clouds. The ruins of some enormous creature lay crumpled, crackling in the flames. That must be what Gabriel had meant about ¡®flesh.¡¯


    ¡°Andy,¡± she shouted, firing a Teslatic Burst into the ground around her, clearing a path through the pooling darkness for the survivors to follow. ¡°Disengage.¡±


    He reloaded, kicking over chairs as he ran to meet her at the canteen kiosk. Behind him, the shadow swept in like a tide.


    ¡°Help me hold it off,¡± Clara said. The vault dwellers trailed behind her, then began climbing over the counter, but many were injured, or children. They weren¡¯t as fast as her and Andy. ¡°Get to the elevator,¡± Clara shouted. ¡°Quickly.¡±


    She strode out into the canteen area, to join Andy. All about them, flickering wall-mounted bulbs and the wavering firelight extinguished before a massive black expanse, like a starless sky, impossibly deep, the oblivion of deep sleep, the inevitability of death. Golden light swelled as Clara raised her fists, casting a sheen over the darkness. The demon recoiled at the light¡¯s touch. Clara panted, beyond fatigue, into a new level of exertion. Her senses heightened, but something distracted her¨Ca trepidation, not as obvious as the demon before her. She pushed the feeling from her mind, focussing the electrical throng in her palms, flowing throughout her body, pulsating with power.


    The radio on her lapel buzzed as Gabrile¡¯s voice came in choppy. Then something lashed at her¨Ca black blade. Clara clapped her hands together before it struck, detonating a Thunderclap in the space before her eyes. The flashbang effect disintegrated the stabbing shadow, pushing against the pitch black wave like dynamite struck in a cave.


    Her radio crackled again as Andy opened fire beside her, waving his rifle¡¯s flashing barrels in arcs. The density of blackness gathered above him, probing blades protruded from its surface, waiting for a break in the gunfire to strike. This close, she saw bloody cuts covering his face, tearing his jacket. Screaming her hatred, Clara threw a Thunderlance into the desolate sky, annihilating the looming demon like the flash of a shooting star.


    Pain cut through her as something struck her in the hip. Clara spun around and thrust her hand out, firing a Teslatic Burst into the attacker. The spike of pain added to the electricity¡¯s intensity, a hail of blue lightning cutting through the dark.


    ¡°-the mainframe,¡± her radio squawked. ¡°Can you hear-¡±


    ¡°Gabriel,¡± Clara radioed, hand extended, fingertips spitting out blue sparks. ¡°What¡¯s the issue?¡±


    ¡°-corrupt.¡± His voice returned, followed by a wave of static, then silence. It was then that her mind pieced together what had been bothering her. The jammed doors and unresponsive control panels, and now the decaying communications channel. The shadow demon¡¯s invasion into the vault went far beyond turning out the lights, it was gutting the vault¡¯s systems. The mainframe¡­ The vault door. As their control over the vault¡¯s systems dwindled. The vault door which she¡¯d ordered Gabriel to remain locked was now a massive steel slab, high above their heads, blocking their access to the outside world. A boulder for a tomb.


    ¡°Open the door,¡± Clara screamed into her radio. ¡°Open the vault door. Do you read me, Gabriel. Open the door now!¡±


    There was no response. Darkness enveloped them.

 Chapter 58 - Plodder鈥檚 Tale

    ¡°Open the door-¡±


    Gabriel typed frantically, modifying the code which he had installed across the vault¡¯s basic systems to reroute power to the main external door. For the command ¡®Reserve Power¡¯ he inputted ¡®0¡¯. In the ¡®Redirection List¡¯, he copied ¡®All¡¯. Clara¡¯s voice jittered over the transceiver¡¯s speakers. Absorbed in his coding monitor, flashes of light caught his attention from the video feeds which he had assembled on the monitors above his head. The cameras were going out one by one. At first, he thought it was a problem with his programming¨Csomething he had overlooked in the vault¡¯s automatic antivirus software, locking his access out of basic operations such as elevators and doors¨Cbut then the corruption struck in force, severing his control over the mainframe. There was no anti-virus on earth which he knew could contend with the volume and artifice of his trojans. This was something much more sinister. Where before, he could access personnel files and vault schematics, now displayed  a chaos of information and distorted pixels. Suddenly, a horrible screeching sound transmitted over the vault¡¯s internal communications systems, sounding over his audio interface. Gabriel turned down the volume on his own system so that the screeching was subdued to a mosquito''s wine, and focussed on trying to open the exterior door.


    Minutes passed. The video feeds went out until only one remained in the Habitation sector. Gabriel¡¯s patchwork coding failed. The external door remained sealed. What the shadowy monster had done to the light bulbs¨Coverloading and frying them¨Cit was now doing to the vault¡¯s circuitry. Its actions demonstrated a degree of intelligence and cunning which he had not suspected. It sent a shiver down his spine.


    Gabriel¡¯s fingers lingered on the keyboard, the blinking cursor awaited his command as his strings of code disappeared into dying systems. He turned to the video feed. Clara was a blip of light, golden, seraphic, and fierce. She moved like a shimmering pearl panther, leaping over a canteen table, upturning it to act as a barricade, and blasting the encroaching shadow with a shower of sapphire lightning. Andy followed after her as they retreated, a mere flicker compared to Clara¡¯s solar radiance. They fought desperately, risking their lives to save the vault dwellers from ruin. But it was hopeless. Gabriel¡¯s eyes scanned the few remaining video feeds, displaying the deeper recesses of the vault. There, the darkness amassed, congealing with the flesh of its victims. What they were fighting in the Habitation sector was a mere vanguard. Once the tide rose from Life Support sector below, they would be drowned, trapped underground.


    ¡°What is happening, Gabriel?¡± Plodder asked. The little garden gnome sat atop a desktop speaker, kicking his little legs as he observed Gabriel at work. ¡°You look afraid.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m locked out of the systems,¡± Gabriel said. ¡°Or rather, to put it more accurately, there are no systems anymore. They¡¯ve been destroyed. Scorched earth.¡±


    ¡°Are your friends okay?¡±


    Gabriel laughed, the words sounding ironic and sour in plodder¡¯s cartoonishly squeaky voice. ¡°They were just acquaintances.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°It means¡­¡± He could justify watching them die, he thought. Gabriel turned off the video feeds and sat back in his chair, chin to his chest. What did he owe them anyway? They had only met yesterday, and they¡¯d threatened to smoke him out of his bunker because he couldn¡¯t pay them for a simple job! They were mercenaries, this was their fate. They should never have gone down into the vault, although it was based on his recommendation. But this shadow demon thing had nothing to do with him. It wasn¡¯t his fault. It wasn¡¯t his responsibility. He had helped them on their little salvage quest-turned-rescue mission as best he could. He had acted charitably. This sort of work normally cost a pretty penny, all of this hacking and monitoring, a lot more than mercenaries charged to kill a couple trolls. He had already paid his debt to them in full, whether or not they survived. With them trapped underground, he didn¡¯t have to worry about them spreading the location of his bunker to other nasty mercenaries. As for the vault dwellers themselves¨Cthe surviving families¨Cthey were none of his business. Unfortunate casualties of a cruel world. This sort of tragedy happened every single day all around the world. Only, today it was happening within his purvey. But that wasn¡¯t necessary anymore.


    There was one video feed remaining¨Cthe camera above the canteen, displaying Clara and Andy fighting for their lives. Grimacing, Gabriel minimised the window¨Che didn¡¯t close it¨Cthat didn¡¯t feel right. Though, the window would close automatically once he withdrew his control over the vault systems. Typing the command, Gabriel sat quietly at his desk, fingers resting on his keyboard. His computer¡¯s cooling fans whirred down as the stress on their systems ebbed. He closed his eyes and breathed softly, and after a moment, it was as though the events of the past couple days had never happened.


    ¡°Are they safe?¡± Plodder asked.


    Okay, things weren¡¯t entirely the same. Gabriel now had a gnome companion to keep him company. ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I think they made a bad decision going down into that vault.¡±


    ¡°Do they need our help?¡±


    Gabriel¡¯s shoulder sank. ¡°I cannot, anymore.¡±


    ¡°But, the black paint they were fighting. I saw it getting closer. Did you see that too?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then we must help them.¡±


    ¡°I cannot,¡± Gabriel repeated, firmly. ¡°That¡¯s it. I¡¯ve done what I can.¡± He shrugged.


    ¡°No,¡± Plodder shook his little head. ¡°They are your friends.¡±


    ¡°No they¡¯re not,¡± Gabriel barked, folding his arms and spinning around on his desk chair to look away. ¡°I don¡¯t have any friends.¡± Tears welled in his eyes, and he struggled to control his ragged breath.


    The silence between them stretched.


    Finally, Plodder spoke. ¡°There was once a gnome called Peanut. He was the first of our kind. Peanut travelled the world, breathing life into garden gnomes like myself, rescuing us from the eternal black of non-existence. In exchange, we made a promise to him: when the time came, we would fight his war.


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    ¡°Once awakened, I found myself suddenly with friends, garden gnomes like myself who had been blessed with life. We played together while the humans slept. Hide-and-seek in the moonlight, and catch the toad in the tall, wet grass, while owls hooted overhead, wondering what mischief we were up to that night. Each morning, when the sun rose, I would pose beside my wheelbarrow, beaming with joy and remain still so that the humans would never learn of our secret lives. When the sun would set, a new magical night of laughter awoke! Us gnomes made friends with the ants and foxes, the rabbits and woodlice, all creatures who loved the moonlight, and danced with us, a celebration of life. We tended our gardens, made homes for the insects, protected them from storms and the crushing feet of men, housing them inside our porcelain bodies when came the plight of pestilent spraying chemicals during spring, and the biting frosts of winter snow.


    ¡°Many months passed before Peanut returned. I must confess, I had forgotten his face, and the promise I had made in exchange for this gift of life. Peanut¡¯s expression was grave, pitted and scratched, as though he had fallen through the sharpest thorn bush into the most jaggedest gravel. He gathered us on the darkest night and proclaimed that if we wanted our freedom, we would have to fight for it. No more secrecy, becoming statuesque at the sight of humans. No more lawn mower accidents, or dogs marking their territory on our faces. I admit, those days were rough, treacherous at times, but the way Peanut described it, it made us sad. As he spoke, it was as though the moonlight grew brighter, burning away our favourite spots of hiding beneath the hedgerow. He was a master of words, and patriarch of all gnomes, knowing our hearts and minds as a spider knows its web.


    ¡°Preaching atop the most magnificent marble bird-bath podium you could ever find, he declared that this world was built for us gnomes, and that the humans had conquered it while we slumbered in non-existence. As he spoke, my heart turned bitter, like a peach fallen to the mud, eaten by worms. Just as he had breathed life into our bodies, now so he breathed hatred.¡±


    Gabriel was stunned, but too enthralled in the little gnome¡¯s story to speak. Plodder bowed his head and went on. ¡°We attacked them in their sleep. Some of the things I did, I am not proud of. I only knew humans as the enemy. I did not know that some of them loved garden gnomes.¡± He raised his head, eyes meeting Gabriel¡¯s for a moment before turning aside. ¡°Peanut¡¯s campaign of terror was insatiable. He would not stop at conquering one street, he meant to dominate the entire world: four streets lined with houses and gardens, and a petting zoo at the edge of the eternal wilderness. It was there that we met our gravest foe. Though we had bested the mowers and spades, sabotaged the great crushing wheeled machines and subjugated the canine menace, we were unprepared for what bounded inside that petting zoo. A sinister evil in the soulless eyes of horned beasts. Devilry and callousness. The dreaded pygmy goat.¡±


    Plodder pulled his big red hat over his face, huddling his arms into his chubby chest. Gabriel¡¯s heart was wary that this was all some big joke, with him as the butt. But there was no hint of insincerity in Plodder¡¯s voice. The gnome shuddered, crouching beside Gabriel¡¯s mouse pad. Every logic-driven instinct in Gabriel was screaming that this was a lie. The contradictions with his own sense of reality were dizzying.


    Sitting back in his chair, Gabriel caught his breath. A familiar sense of anxiety covered him like an itchy woollen blanket. Gabriel breathed slowly. Focussing on the cowering gnome, he counted to ten, sorting his thoughts. In the past twenty-four hours, he¡¯d witnessed a shadow-demon transform human flesh into an abomination. As far as apocalypses went, the fae creatures which sometimes roamed outside his bunker paled in comparison. Gabriel had remained relatively sheltered from the horrors of the apocalypses. The world was a far more evil place than he had recently expected, yet also somewhat more spectacular. Plodder had miraculously come alive¨Cthat much was evident¨Cso why couldn¡¯t other gnomes have done so too?


    ¡°I think I believe you,¡± Gabriel said.


    Plodder raised his head, peeking up at Gabriel from beneath his red hat. ¡°You were in doubt?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. But you must admit, it¡¯s pretty ridiculous. A land of gnomes killing humans and fighting goats? And a gnome-Jesus?¡±


    Plodder cocked his head. ¡°That is how I remember it.¡±


    Gabriel¡¯s heart swelled. Assuming his story was true, the poor little gnome had nothing left in the world. No people. No home. And Gabriel had forced him to live out his suffering. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he said with a weak smile. ¡°You¡¯re safe now. That¡¯s all in the past.¡±


    ¡°Not in my mind, it isn¡¯t.¡± Plodder hopped down from the speaker, turning his black from the glow of the monitor array and paced across the desk, staring into the darkness of the bunker. He squinted, thick eyebrows like slugs sloping down his brow. ¡°I fled. I was afraid. My brothers and sisters were smashed to pieces. The agonised screams¡­ the shattering of clay¡­ They haunt me to this day.¡± Plodder shuddered. ¡°The pygmy goats chased us, and our allies¨Cthe foxes¨Cbetrayed us, fearful too of the pygmies'' wrath. They hunted us in hiding, free to rule the world with the humans gone. I was cowering beneath a tower, stacked with human supplies, when two goats found me. They toppled the tower, and a flood of paint fell upon me. My final memories were drowning in a bucket that had landed on my head. Suspended in paint, my mind wandered to that first night of precious sentience, when I had first gazed at the stars and held hands with my friends, until finally, my thoughts faded away.¡±


    Plodder rubbed his eye and turned to face Gabriel. ¡°I am probably the last of my kind. I know what it is like to lose all of my friends. Perhaps if I had fought alongside them, things would be different. Maybe I could have made a difference. Perhaps more of us would have survived, not just little old me.¡±


    The face of a ghost flashed in Gabrile¡¯s mind. He hadn¡¯t always lived alone, afraid of the outside. Long ago, when the cataclysm hit, Gabriel¡¯s technical expertise had bought him into a governmental job. He had survived on the surface, sheltered away inside a base. Yet, as the world collapsed, the government divided into gangs, living above became unsafe. Escaping underground, he had connected with an online community of techies. They¡¯d playfully dubbed themselves ¡®Nerds of the Apocalypses¡¯, and shared all the knowledge they had on the cataclysm and zones. Some spoke about a unified governmental project which was set to keep humanity from the brink of annihilation, but none within his merry band were the wiser. They spent their days building a network, establishing nodes, and securing power sources. Some had plans to release the network globally, others simply wished for the others¡¯ company, speaking as much about their woes as they did coding. An online community¨Clike those of old¨Cisolated by distance, yet thriving.


    Within a week, half of his acquaintances went quiet. The group suspected a latent apocalypse had struck. Later, they heard reports of an asteroid impact. The situation worsened. One by one, his friendly nerds died or disappeared. Within a month, it had been just Gabriel and an engineer named Harris left. Their last correspondence was over five years ago now. Gabriel had only survived because he lived alone, closed his doors, and never dared to venture outside.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Gabriel said. ¡°Fear is natural.¡±


    ¡°Fear perhaps, but cowardice¡­¡± Plodder raised his head. ¡°Cowardice is the mind¡¯s tyranny.¡±


    Gabriel¡¯s heart raced. The guilt he had squashed down rose inside him like a flame. He stood up, but couldn¡¯t tell what for. It had been no lie - there was nothing he could do. The vault was no longer working, and no amount of programming could repair a faulty wire. Something on his display shelf caught his eye: a black knight figurine from Gabriel¡¯s favourite book. A hero. Scanning his bunker, his eyes fell on the piles of junk, much of it salvage in need of repair. Amongst the junk were a few items he had never intended to use: a bicycle with a punctured wheel; an old, unsharpened replica sword; a motorcycle helmet missing the chin strap and a battery-powered floodlight.


    ¡°What do you suggest I do?¡± Gabriel choked out. His throat was tight. His heart was racing.


    Plodder looked at him with solemn, glistening eyes. ¡°What you must.¡±

 Chapter 59 - Dancing with Shadows

    Andy crammed into the elevator, now full of the vault dwellers which Clara had rescued, and held his breath as the doors closed behind him. Their fear was pungent. It made his stomach queasy, like the effects of a hangover, caught between sickness and starvation. When the doors opened again on the Hydroponic level, the civilians rushed out of the compact lift, but then mingled in the loading bay outside reluctant to stray from the herd.


    Clara pushed to the front followed by a man wielding one of the experimental shock rifles. Andy begrudgingly took the rear. He¡¯d chucked his assault rifles once they¡¯d run out of ammo. Compared to Clara¡¯s flashy new powers, Andy didn¡¯t have very much which could combat the shadow demons. Julie tried to console him, humming in her holster, but Andy could only deal temporary damage with her Vortex abilities, distorting the shadows, but not destroying them. He was supposed to be the one that handled these situations, while Clara did the people management. But his Augmentation just wasn¡¯t very useful against something that was immune to bullets. He had run out of fuel for his homemade flamethrower, and overall felt impotent.


    Distorted screeches mocked them on the speaker systems as they fled through the massive Hydroponics chamber. The monolithic pillars of UV light on either side of their path blinked out, sending waves of panic through the survivors. Children sobbed in their mothers arms. A cold wind swept through Andy, although there was no air current in the vault. He paused to look back. The darkness seeped out of air vents in the ceiling, blooming like a rapid mould infestation from the loading bay where they had been just moments before. It congealed, forming blobs, puddles of black liquid streaming together to form a lake, which swelled upwards and outwards, shrouding everything in an impenetrable veil.


    ¡°You¡¯re pretty,¡± Andy admired. ¡°Shame I¡¯ve got nothing to kill you with.¡± But¡­ perhaps if they headed through the workshop area he could pick himself up another fuel canister and reignite his barbeque-babe. What would be a nice name for a flamethrower? Freja? Felecia?


    ¡°Gabriel, come in.¡± Clara¡¯s voice sounded through the radio on his lapel. ¡°Do you read?¡±


    There was no response from the techie, or else his voice was drowned out by the machine-screams on the intercom. It didn¡¯t make much difference to Andy. What had he been doing anyway, opening doors and operating elevators? Andy could do that himself.


    Turning his back on the dark entity, Andy caught up to the group of survivors. Clara had strayed from the main path, veering towards an outer wall with no exit in sight. Her route took the group of civilians through a thicket of growing walls, aquaponic ponds and steel-bearing trees, disorientating them further.


    ¡°Wrong way sis,¡± Andy radioed.


    ¡°What? Really?¡± Clara replied.


    ¡°Yeah, can¡¯t you see?¡± To Andy, it was only a little dull. Perhaps it was a new Augmentation module. The voice had said something about becoming a predator. Suddenly, the phantom memory of a man¡¯s neck pressed against his jaws. Andy¡¯s stomach turned, the aftertaste of sickly-sweet blood bubbled up his throat. He didn¡¯t want to think about that right now.


    ¡°Only as far as my guiding light.¡±


    ¡°Turn left about fifteen degrees. Get back on the main path.¡±


    Clara turned, beckoning her group to follow. They ran after her like a pack of hungry dogs, attracted to the golden light held in her hands. Andy continued down the main path, heading straight for the workshop. Due to Clara¡¯s detour, he got there first and keyed the door to open, however it jammed half way. Slipping through into the short corridor beyond, he didn¡¯t waste time on the second door leading to the workshop, instead, he blew the glass window out of its frame with a Vortex shot. Clearing the shards with the sleeve of his leather jacket, Andy hopped into the workshop and searched for more fuel. Behind him, the cries of the surviving vault dwellers rose to a frenzy as they all struggled to fit through the half-opened door.


    To Andy¡¯s delight, he found a fuel canister, but upon testing it, discovered that it was already empty. He rummaged through boxes and shelves, searching for that sweet, succulent ¡®FLAMMABLE¡¯ icon, but couldn¡¯t find it anywhere. Today, his arsenal was just one disappointment after another.


    Julie vibrated at his hip, a low disgruntled grumble.


    ¡°Not you, babe,¡± Andy said, giving her a pat. ¡°Of course not you.¡±


    Andy¡¯s ears pricked up as gunfire sounded in the Hydroponics warehouse behind the corridor. He looked for Clara amongst the dozen or so people who had made it through the door, but she was absent. Had she stayed behind to protect the vaulties¡¯ backs as they squeezed through the door? Shit, of course she had. And now she was in danger.


    Andy scrambled through the crowd towards the door and tried to push against the stream of refugees. ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said, very politely, but then one man shoved him back. He felt a bump behind him and a small voice cried out, some kid falling to the floor.


    ¡°Out of the way,¡± the vault dweller said. ¡°People coming through.¡±


    Andy considered shooting him and blasting his way through the door to relieve Clara on the other side, but it would probably be unnecessary. Clara would undoubtedly have a massive fit about him killing innocents, and then after all that, he probably couldn¡¯t help her anyway, because he could barely harm the shadow monster with any of his weapons.


    Sulking, Andy let the man push him back, getting dragged away in the current of refugees. His heel tangled with something on the floor and Andy grabbed a nearby stranger not to fall. Beneath him was a boy, maybe twelve years old, terrified and trapped beneath the crowd. As the vaulties squirmed through the door¡¯s gap, they burst into the corridor, pushing and shoving to get to the front of the throng. Weak as he was, Andy was uprooted by the turmoil, but he struck his arm out and caught the kid by the collar, dragging him away from the melee.


    ¡°On your feet, kiddo,¡± Andy said, propping him against the corridor¡¯s wall. The boy¡¯s pale face was awash with fear. His eyes were tear stained red. Kneeling beside the boy, with the panicking crowd behind them, Andy had a distinct memory of rescuing Clara from a stampede on a city street during the early days. Andy¡¯s heart beat warm once, then settled back to its usual cold crawl.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± he said. ¡°It gets easier.¡±


    Clara¡¯s voice came from behind him. Finally, she came through the gap, drenched in sweat as though she¡¯d just been on a ten mile sprint. Following her was the vault dweller wielding a shock rifle. Now that was one sexy piece of firepower. Why should that randomer get to wield it. Why not himself?This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Give me that,¡± Andy said, grabbing the man¡¯s shoulder to get his attention.


    ¡°What?¡± he said. ¡°No, only I know how to use it.¡±


    ¡°I could figure it out,¡± Andy said, grabbing the stock. ¡°I¡¯m Augmented. I¡¯m special. I¡¯ve got this thing¡­ combat-something-or-other.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the man yanked back. ¡°I¡¯d be defenceless.¡±


    ¡°Andy,¡± Clara called over the clamour of voices in the tight corridor. ¡°Quit stalling, use your own guns.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t work,¡± he protested.


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡±


    Andy let the rifle go, sulking at the back of the group again while Clara led the refugees down the corridor and towards the vault¡¯s primary elevator. Andy glared at the back of Mr Shock Rifle¡¯s head, making a note of his short ginger hair and scruffy, torn yellow jumpsuit. He would slip up and get taken out by the shadow demon soon enough, and Andy would be by his side to repossess his weapon.


    Suddenly, a freezing cold jolt shot through Andy¨Cit was as though someone had dropped a handful of ice down his back. Spinning around, Andy drew Julie and fired a Vortex shot into the doorway. Spears of black dissipated like smoke, but all about him, the darkness was drawn like a curtain. It swooped down, faster than ever, plunging him into pitch-black waters. Andy thrashed out, adrenaline flooding his veins. He could feel the tug of the shadow, like a threadbare blanket covered in a layer of slime. Digging his nails in, he tore holes into the entity, clawing his way to the surface.


    A flash of light stunned him. Andy clenched his eyes shut, flailing blindly at the dark. When he opened his eyes he was standing in a smoky ruin. Clara was beside him, fists clenched with golden light, her face aghast. The air lit up with a million tiny embers as Clara waved her glowing lights through the smoke, burning it to ash. Andy could taste the familiar metal tang of his Augmentation¡¯s powers activating, but there was a new flavour too¨Cacidic and potent¨Cwhich he recognised having tasted once before in the vault¡¯s armoury. Andy cleared his throat and spat on the floor, reaching for his hip flask to swill the taste out, but it was still empty. Groaning, he picked Julie up off the floor where he¡¯d dropped her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, baby,¡± he said. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to drop you.¡±


    ¡°You three, with the shields,¡± Clara shouted to the vault dwellers cowering at the opposite end of the corridor. ¡°Block this door. I¡¯ll help you.¡± She turned to Andy. ¡°How did you do that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Do what? I just fought back.¡±


    ¡°You touched it,¡± she said, amazed. ¡°You tore it up.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that something everyone can do?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡± A bulb strobed above the doorway, taunting the steady glow of Clara¡¯s golden aura with a bluish white light. ¡°You just¡­ stuck your hand in it. How is that possible? Was that your Augmentation?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t think so, it¡¯s pretty fucking useless right now honestly.¡±


    Clara scanned his face, scowling. ¡°Something about you¡¯s changed. Are you feeling alright?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, a little hungry. Oh, yeah actually I did, erm¡­¡± Andy trailed off, fidgeting with Julie in her holster. ¡°It¡¯s a little embarrassing actually.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Clara said. Two men with shields plugged the gap in the door. Clara stood over their shoulders, fists of light ready to fight off the shadow. At the opposite end of the corridor, the vaulties were entering the elevator one small group at a time. Mr Shock Rifle was absent, he must have gone up with the first group.


    ¡°I got in a fight,¡± Andy said. ¡°And it¡¯s hard to explain but¡­ erm, I don¡¯t feel comfortable saying it.¡±


    ¡°Just spit it out.¡±


    Andy muttered the confession under his breath.


    ¡°What?¡± Clara said. ¡°Speak up.¡±


    ¡°I drank this man¡¯s blood.¡±


    One of the shield bearing vaulties looked around at him disgusted. Clara¡¯s eyes flitted to the floor, brow furrowed in thought. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why, okay. It was just an impulse. I was unarmed and getting beaten up.¡±


    ¡°So you bit him?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ and then some.¡±


    ¡°Andy, that¡¯s disgusting.¡±


    ¡°Fuck, I know! That¡¯s why I didn¡¯t want to tell you.¡±


    ¡°What if he had a disease?¡±


    ¡°Oh god, I didn¡¯t even think of that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re revolting.¡±


    ¡°I know. Don¡¯t make fun of me.¡±


    A grin crept on Clara¡¯s lips, then she shook her head and regained composure. ¡°How did it make you feel?¡±


    ¡°Pretty good,¡± Andy shrugged. ¡°Except for the taste, and the shame.¡±


    ¡°Have you noticed any other changes?¡±


    Andy looked at his hands¨Cthey seemed the same to him, but there was something else beneath it all. His senses were heightened, his vision and smell amplified. Andy had passed it off as having been sober for too long, but now, with touching the shadow thing¡­ what was happening to him?


    Clara glanced at the ceiling above the doorway, and Andy followed her gaze. A thick shadow oozed out of the air vent there. ¡°Let¡¯s retreat,¡± she said, pulling the shield bearers away from the broken door and fled down the corridor. At the opposite end, the vaulties were filling into an access stairwell beside the elevator shaft. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°The elevator¡¯s jammed,¡± someone responded.


    ¡°They¡¯re stuck in there,¡± someone else said.


    ¡°Get up, quickly. People with weapons to the front.¡± Clara turned her back on the group, addressing Andy. ¡°Help me guard the rear.¡±


    ¡°Yes Ma''am.¡±


    Lamplight carried by the citizens cast a network of shifting shadows above them in the stairwell shaft. Their footsteps echoed in the dark, clanging like atonal church-bells.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering,¡± Clara said. ¡°You got bit by that vampire. Maybe that changed you.¡±


    ¡°No way.¡±


    ¡°Drinking blood. Being able to touch shadows. Sound familiar?¡±


    ¡°No fucking way.¡± Andy¡¯s hand shot to his mouth. ¡°I thought it was just¡­ Augmentation stuff.¡±


    ¡°Maybe not this time.¡±


    ¡°Hold on.¡± He stopped and tensed his muscles, envisioning sprouting demonic wings from his back, but nothing happened.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Transforming.¡±


    Clara slapped his shoulder. ¡°Stop being stupid.¡±


    ¡°What do you reckon I can do now? Think I could fly?¡± Andy looked over the edge of the stairs. They were about three flights up.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you try taking off from the ground first?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a pussy move.¡± He climbed onto the railing, but Clara dragged him back down by the collar of his jacket.


    ¡°If you really want to know, then stick my wrist terminal on and transcribe your abilities.¡±


    ¡°Huh, that¡¯s not a bad idea, actually.¡±


    ¡°Are you messing with me?¡±


    ¡°No. Pretty sound advice.¡±


    ¡°Are you being sarcastic?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not being sarcastic! Slap it on, let¡¯s see what I¡¯ve got.¡±


    Clara looked at him sceptically. ¡°Okay, good. But not now. Let¡¯s get to safety first.¡±


    Andy rolled his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re kidding me. This is like¡­ your number one fantasy. I actually give a shit.¡±


    Clara scoffed, but a grin crept over her face. ¡°Not now.¡±


    ¡°This opportunity might never come again,¡± he threatened.


    ¡°Yes it will.¡± She grabbed his arm. ¡°Stop being stupid. Come on. We¡¯ve got a job to do.¡±

 Chapter 60 - Scramble to the Surface

    At the top of the stairs was the long tunnel of Admin Sector, with many smaller corridors branching off. By the flickering light of the remaining bulbs, Andy could see the exit elevator leading to the surface at the far end. Their escape.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the extract team?¡± Clara said, but she was ignored. With the exit in sight, the civilians fled for themselves, charging down the tunnel. ¡°There was a team up here,¡± Clara said. ¡°Some with weapons, a lot of civilians.¡±


    ¡°Maybe they¡¯re upstairs,¡± Andy pointed to the ceiling.


    ¡°Do you mean above ground?¡± she said, activating her radio. ¡°Gabriel, do you read me? Come in. This elevator is stuck. If you can hear me, please bring it up. Open it. There are people trapped inside.¡±


    A sparkle of light, like a welding torch set to metal, cast sharp shadows up the walls as Clara tampered with the elevator¡¯s controls. Andy strayed down the tunnel, Clara¡¯s voice accompanying him on the radio. The clamour of stampeding vault dwellers rang around him, catching him from all sides, disorientating him. Something tickled his nose¨Cthe smell of blood. Streaks of it painted the white walls, seeping through cracks in the walkway. But there were no bodies in sight. ¡°Clara,¡± he called. ¡°Let¡¯s bounce.¡±


    She caught up to him, a stern look on her face. ¡°I can¡¯t¡­ People are trapped in that elevator.¡±


    ¡°What do you want me to do about it?¡±


    ¡°We have to try something.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing the controls don¡¯t work.¡±


    Clara paused. ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get mad. I don¡¯t have a clue.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t just leave them.¡±


    Andy looked towards the elevator, already shrouded in a pool of shadows, and shook his head. Clara followed his gaze, the golden light of her hands diminished as she paused. His sister spun back towards the exit, her expression stone. Ahead of them both, the vault dwellers crammed into the final elevator leading to the surface. It appeared to be inoperable as well, so they were climbing through the roof hatch, passing up the children, leaving behind the injured and elderly, and scrambling up the elevator shaft towards the surface vault door.


    ¡°I can¡¯t reach Gabriel,¡± Clara said. ¡°We might have a problem.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me.¡± Andy pointed at the blood streaking the walls.


    Clara held the light of her hand up to the wall, then shone it into a nearby alcove, peering down adjacent corridors. ¡°See any survivors?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think there are any.¡±


    ¡°Hello?¡± she shouted into the dark. ¡°Evacuation. Everyone get out. Don¡¯t hide.¡± She ran from corridor to corridor, repeating the message. ¡°Leave now. We¡¯ll cover you.¡±


    There was no response. No sound of movement. Just an icy breeze on Andy¡¯s back. Trailing behind her, he peered into shadows left behind by Clara¡¯s aura, readying himself for what was to come. Towards the end of the tunnel, Clara dipped into the Head Honcho¡¯s office and returned, pocketing a small dome-shaped device. Together, they met the remaining crowd of vault dwellers at the foot of the final elevator shaft.


    Sitting on the floor was an elderly woman clutching her chest with ragged breath. There were a few more, too injured to climb up through the escape hatch in the elevator chamber¡¯s ceiling two metres off the floor. Andy could smell the blood on them. One man in torn blue overalls was soaked in a dark purple patch, clutching his arm against his chest. Another lay on the floor, his leg a bloody mess, mute, staring up at Clara and Andy for an answer, awaiting his death.


    ¡°Help me,¡± Clara said, offering a leg-up to one of the injured. The young girl¡¯s hair stuck to her face, sticky with fresh blood. Andy gagged, his stomach churning. He pushed the girl up, trying not to breathe through his nose, as she stood on Clara¡¯s hands and scrambled through the hatch. On the other side, Andy recognised a man¡¯s face in the dark. White overalls with a blue-rimmed military cap. Blue-Cap grabbed the girl¡¯s arm and pulled her into an embrace.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take her,¡± he stammered.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Clara shouted upwards. ¡°There¡¯s more.¡±


    Blue-Cap trembled. ¡°They¡¯re¡­¡± He shook his head.


    ¡°No they¡¯re not,¡± Clara argued, though the subtext was lost on Andy. ¡°Help me here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too late,¡± he said.


    ¡°Send someone down,¡± Clara said desperately. ¡°Help them. They¡¯re your people.¡±


    ¡°There are injured above,¡± Blue-Cap protested, hugging the girl close to his chest. ¡°We¡¯ve done all we can. My arms are full.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving them.¡±


    Blue-Cap backed away. His voice grew grave. ¡°I have to save this girl.¡±


    Clara paused for a moment, then nodded. Pain flickered over her face¨Cperhaps one of her wounds causing her discomfort. Then she burst into gear. Leaping up through the hatch, she turned and struck her hand down. ¡°Pass them up.¡±


    ¡°What, these?¡± Andy said, waving at the enfeebled vaulties, too injured to stand.


    Clara snarled at him, so Andy got to work. The first man he chose to help could barely get off the floor. He¡¯d clearly lost a lot of blood, and was slipping out of consciousness. Discarding him, Andy moved onto the next¨Ca young woman doubled over in pain clutching her gut. Andy tried to lift her up but she screamed at him, dropping to the floor.


    ¡°Fuck sake Andy,¡± Clara yelled. ¡°Be careful.¡±


    Andy flung his arms in the air as though he was surrendering and shook his head. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Help her up.¡±


    ¡°None of these people are going to survive, they won¡¯t even stand up.¡±


    ¡°Just help them.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    Clara paused, her expression, at first angry, recoiled with bitter scrutiny. ¡°You really don¡¯t care.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying,¡± Andy said, grabbing the woozy fellow by his collar and lifting him up.


    ¡°Pass me him,¡± Clara said, her voice subdued into an eerie calm.


    Andy strained to lift the man onto his shoulders, then braced his knees and lifted him overhead. Clara grabbed him, taking some of the weight, but the man wouldn¡¯t help, his body was almost limp. He was too heavy. Andy shrank beneath his weight until his forearms gave out. Clara clung to his wrist above for a split second before letting him go.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± she said, rummaging in her rucksack. ¡°I have some rope.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have a zipline, pulley thing?¡±


    ¡°That broke,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll tie a couple knots.¡±


    Andy glanced back down the tunnel. The darkness was palpable. Encroaching. ¡°There¡¯s probably not the time, sis.¡±


    ¡°Hold it off.¡±


    ¡°You wanna swap? I¡¯ll tie the knot and you fight the evil demon?¡±


    ¡°Done,¡± she said, passing down a length of rope. There were two extra knots in the middle for footholds.


    ¡°Alright, now what?¡± he said.


    ¡°Now help them climb up.¡±


    ¡°Hey you,¡± Andy nudged the young woman with a gut wound with his boot. ¡°Fancy a climb?¡±


    The woman rose to her feet shakily and grabbed the rope.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Andy said. ¡°One hand over the other, come on now.¡±


    Clara dropped into the elevator and shouldered past Andy, wading into the dark tunnel, fists clenched with a defiant light.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Andy said. ¡°Hop up.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± the vaultie wheezed, falling backwards into the wall and sinking to the ground. ¡°Kill me.¡±


    ¡°Now that, I can help you with.¡± Andy drew Julie and pointed her at the woman¡¯s skull. Then he thought about how Clara would react. She might not believe that he had shot her out of mercy. His sister thought the worst of him sometimes. Granted, he was cold, but not gratuitous. She¡¯d definitely find a way to judge him if he put the old lady out of her misery, which over the years, she¡¯d find a way to bring up again and again, subtly or directly. A little exertion now could save him a lot of hassle in the future.


    Stowing Julie, Andy pointed at the man with the gammy leg. ¡°You there. You¡¯re gonna die anyway. Help me with this.¡±


    The man stared at him blankly, lost in a daze.


    ¡°Old lady?¡± Andy said, addressing the third of the stragglers in the elevator. ¡°Fancy going out in a blaze of glory.¡±


    The old woman¡¯s hands shook as she drew them off her chest. ¡°How can I help?¡±


    ¡°Lift this one up with me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± the old lady nodded.


    Drawing the younger woman¡¯s arm over his shoulder, Andy slung her onto his back. She screamed in agony, mouth muffled against his leather jacket, and kicked her legs.


    ¡°Not helping,¡± Andy grunted, wrestling with her and the rope. ¡°Hey, robot. Can we just pretend this bitch is a machine gun?¡±


    Negative, his AI voice chimed, drowned out by the woman¡¯s screams.


    ¡°Come on, just this once, don¡¯t I have a special ability for that?¡± Andy said, reaching for the rope. ¡°I¡¯ll pretend she¡¯s a rocket launcher or something, and gain superhuman strength.¡±


    Your ability Heavy Weaponry engages through the reflection and absorption of excess kinetic and thermal energy transmitted by high-calibre, high-temperature and explosive weaponry. The AI¡¯s voice was less robotic than usual, with a silky feminine quality to it.


    This energy is redirected into your musculoskeletal structure, assisted by combat enhancing hormones, allowing an adaptive response to weapon mass, recoil dynamics, and operational parameters. Note: This ability does not extend to the operation of organic materials.


    ¡°Spoken like a true psychopath,¡± Andy said, gritting his teeth and pulling on the rope. Behind him, the old lady stroked the woman¡¯s head and cooed, calming her. She stopped wriggling, and Andy managed to snatch the line. Flashes of golden light lit the tunnel behind him as Clara sent thunderbolts whizzing into dark. They exploded like discharged shotguns. Andy could feel the electricity in the air, prickling the hairs on his flesh like the primordial anticipation before a thunderstorm. Meanwhile, he struggled to climb the rope, gripping it with the soles of his boots, the rough coil like sandpaper in his hands. ¡°Are you helping to lift?¡± he accused the old woman.


    ¡°I¡¯m weak,¡± she moaned.


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me.¡± Determined not to be shown up by Clara¡¯s combat effectiveness, Andy dug his feet into a knot in the centre of the rope and pulled himself up the short distance to the elevator hatch. Bracing his forearms against the roof of the elevator, he strained to bring his injured cargo through the gap.


    ¡°Climb out,¡± he said through clenched teeth. The woman wriggled on his shoulder, squeezing through the narrow gap. She kneed him in the face as she did so, and he almost lost his grip. Andy growled, his nose stung. Finally, her weight was lifted from him. Crawling on his belly, Andy pulled himself over the edge and lay on his back beside the lady. Something dug into his spine, but he didn¡¯t care, he was exhausted. Panting, he sat upright and cupped his mouth to shout down into the elevator. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Flashes of light responded, puncturing the darkness, growing brighter, then Clara¡¯s face appeared beneath him. Andy offered his hand down to her, but she paused, glancing at the three remaining in the elevator shaft, too injured to make the short climb.


    ¡°Wait,¡± she said, frozen in place.


    ¡°No,¡± Andy said. ¡°It¡¯s done. Come on.¡±


    ¡°We can¡­¡± the words fell limply from her lips like droplets from a leaky roof. ¡°Maybe we can-¡±


    ¡°Sis,¡± Andy shouted, stealing her attention. He thrust his hand towards her like a command. Closing her eyes, she took it. As she climbed through the hatch, the light in her fists went out, leaving only the soft glow of her headlamp remaining.


    Once on the roof, Clara fell onto her back panting.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Andy asked. It was rare that his sister seemed so out of shape.


    She closed her eyes and nodded. Sweat poured from her brow, tuning the rim of her cap a darker shade. ¡°It¡¯s the new stuff,¡± she panted.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Uncalibrated,¡± she said, flexing her fingers. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± Opening her eyes, she stared past him up the shaft, some five metres to the surface cave. ¡°Can you climb the ladder?¡± Clara asked the injured lady.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she whimpered.


    ¡°Good,¡± Andy said. ¡°Cause my arms are killing me.¡±


    ¡°Go first,¡± Clara said, helping the young woman to her feet, directing her towards the narrow ladder built into the groove of the elevator shaft. She climbed slowly, followed by Clara, who wove her arms under her shoulders, providing a frame like a turtle shell in case she fell. Andy lingered behind, patiently waiting for their slow ascent. He checked his ammunition situation¨Cthere was plenty for Julie, and a bandolier of grenades in his rucksack, but that was all. Perhaps, with his new vampire powers, he could be useful in some other way?


    The quiet vault dwellers in the elevator chamber below came awake, yelling in terror, beseeching god for mercy, praying to their mothers for relief from agony. All the usual stuff. Andy shot each of them dead, then finished Julie¡¯s cylinder with two Vortex Shots into the elevator chamber. The backdraft wooshed up past his face like a plume of steam, dissipating the shadows in the shaft, and turning the vaultie¡¯s corpses to mush. It might hold the demon back for a minute or two. Slamming the hatch shut, he turned to climb after Clara. After a minute more of exertion, he rose into the large cave¡¯s entrance and breathed in the wet, almost-fresh air. Survivors dotted the walkway steps, sitting or lying in each other''s arms, crowded as far away from the elevator as possible. Andy strode through them towards the large steel door. Clara was running her hands over the metal slab, a faint glow seeping between her fingers.


    ¡°What¡¯s the holdup,¡± he said. At the foot of the vault door sat a group of men, their heads bowed, riot shields lay at their feet. Blue-Cap and his merry band of revolutionaries, reduced from eight men to just three. The child with long ginger hair had joined their ranks, clinging to Blue-Cap like a baby monkey to its mother. Though, they looked nothing alike. Andy wondered if the kid was his.


    ¡°It¡¯s not working,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°What isn¡¯t?¡± Andy said. ¡°Just press a button.¡±


    Blue-Cap raised his voice. ¡°The controls are in the Head Honcho¡¯s office.¡± He sounded hoarse from shouting.


    Andy sighed. ¡°Well why didn¡¯t you say earlier?¡±


    ¡°He did, over the radio.¡± Clara answered. ¡°I checked. We tried. They¡¯re unresponsive. I thought maybe the dimachaeron device which Gabriel gave us would work if we applied it directly to the door, but there¡¯s no control panel here. No nothing. No electronics.¡± Clara lowered her arms, her back to him, staring at the impassable wall. ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Stand back,¡± Andy said, drawing Julie. ¡°I¡¯ve got this.¡±

 Chapter 61 - Last Stand

    Andy cradled Julie to his chest, murmuring sweetly into her cylinder. She thrummed in his hands, warm and welcoming. ¡°Okay baby, this is the one.¡± Andy held her at arm''s length, firmly, but not suffocatingly. The surge of power started in his feet, rising up from the cave floor through the soles of his shoes. It shook his knees, but he braced to keep it under control as energy swelled through his hips and stomach, reverberating in his chest, pushing up past his neck into his skull where it tingled like fireworks. Andy breathed in the power, containing it, indulging in it for a moment before sharing it with his lover. He squeezed Julie¡¯s trigger lightly, feeling the energy wash over her, pooling in his shoulders and flowing down his arms. Aiming her at the vault door steadily, Andy let it all go. A Vortex Missile thundered through the air¨Ca lancing vortex which ripped a wound in space¨Cstabbing into the steel slab.


    The sound of the impact was deafening, like a thunderstrike inside his skull. It vibrated Andy¡¯s organs. The walls of the cave shook as dust and rubble fell from the roof, but the door was still standing. Three dents were drilled into its centre, but none had managed to pierce it.


    ¡°It¡¯s not working,¡± Clara said, taking her fingers out of her ears. She was standing behind him at the edge of the walkway which delved into the cave. Gathered around the elevator shaft at the opposite end were the sum total of surviving vault dwellers, about fifty people wearing different coloured overalls, all splotched and stained with red, like an eclectic pastel painting.


    ¡°Give me another go,¡± he said. ¡°Julie¡¯s just misbehaving.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have another go, the roof¡¯s going to cave in.¡±


    ¡°Just one more.¡± Andy turned his back on Clara, whispering to Julie. ¡°You¡¯re not holding back on me, are you?¡±


    Julie suddenly felt cold and heavy, drooping in his hand.


    ¡°We can break this door. Come on, just connect with me.¡±


    Julie wouldn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°What? What is it? What have I done? Why are you being a bitch?¡±


    ¡°Andy. Don¡¯t shoot.¡± Clara rounded on him. ¡°It¡¯s too dangerous.¡±


    Andy paused, inspecting the cave¡¯s roof. The excavation job was rough¨Cfissures cut through the rock and chunks of stone protruded from the roof like loose teeth. ¡°Got any other ideas?¡±Andy said.


    ¡°We may have to stage a counter attack.¡± Clara was holding her ribcage where she had been cut. Her black vest underneath was stained with blood. She sighed heavily. Andy knew the sound. Fatigue.


    ¡°I¡¯m game,¡± Andy said, topping up Julie¡¯s cylinder with fresh rounds.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be easy. Actually, it¡¯s suicidal.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m a little bit less game. I don¡¯t want to die for these people.¡±


    Clara shook her head, stuttering to get her thoughts out. ¡°We¡¯re well beyond that now. We¡¯re trapped down here with them. There¡¯s no¡­ there¡¯s nothing. Why did we come here?¡±


    Andy paused. ¡°Salvage.¡±


    ¡°I mean, why¡­¡± she struggled for words.


    ¡°We got a shock rifle out of it I guess. That¡¯s a small victory.¡±


    ¡°Victory,¡± Clara hissed. ¡°Andy, come on. Give me a break. We lost.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no escape hatch? Emergency tunnel for two? I don¡¯t mind if it only fits us, I¡¯ll make that call.¡±


    Clara leaned against the railing, gazing around the cave as she thought. A soft blue glow emanated from her fingertips, lighting her face as though she had sunk beneath murky waters. The wet smell of the cave mingled with the sharp tang of blood. Below, at the bottom of the walkway, the vault dwellers were removing their clothes, gathering flammable items into piles, ready to light them if the shadow entity attacked. They were working under the light of torches, beams spinning this way and that, casting a mirage of shadows up the cave¡¯s walls. Many more of the vaulties kept their flashlights trained on the walls, dispelling the darkness where it crept in, but Andy could tell that it was pointless¨Cthe darkness wasn¡¯t yet palpable.


    ¡°There is a ventilation hatch.¡± Clara flicked through her wrist terminal, zooming in on something. Andy took a look, but couldn¡¯t make sense of it. ¡°Two in the workshop. But that¡¯s two levels down from here. There¡¯s also a natural stream which runs through the Water Purification centre at the opposite end of Hydroponics. We ran past it, but I doubt it would have been of any use. Besides, I asked Gary already. He¡¯s been looking for a way to escape the vault for months. If there was a better option, he¡¯d know about it.¡±


    ¡°That vent sounds good,¡± Andy said. ¡°I¡¯m skinny and you¡¯re¡­ well, you¡¯d probably fit.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s do that.¡±


    Clara hesitated. ¡°Everyone here would die.¡±


    ¡°Everyone here¡¯s gonna die.¡±


    Clara shook her head. ¡°The vents are in the workshop area. We¡¯d have to fight our way through Admin Sec to get to them, down the staircase, into the workshop, then climb up into the vents in complete darkness, and crawl about one hundred metres up to the surface. I say crawl, we¡¯d probably be climbing it. Straight up. Are you fit enough to do that?¡±


    Andy tensed his biceps. ¡°I am a specimen of mankind.¡±


    Clara smiled meekly and bowed her head. Her shoulders shrank. The brim of her cap hid her face. Her body twitched as she hiccuped, then she raised her face and whipped her eyes. They were red, her cheeks flushed, her nose wet. Andy froze, confused. Clara removed her cap and fixed her unruly ponytail, then whipped her face on her sleeve. ¡°I feel bad for them.¡± Her voice was razor thin. ¡°It¡¯s our fault.¡±


    ¡°Nah¡­ What, this?¡± Andy waved his arm over the room. ¡°This is the apocalypse, baby. This sort of thing just happens.¡±


    Clara shook her head. ¡°We brought it here. We let it in.¡±


    ¡°Ehh, did we though?¡±


    ¡°You said so yourself.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we probably did, but we¡¯ve been trying to help.¡± Andy waved at the survivors beneath them. ¡°See, and we¡¯re not even getting paid.¡±


    ¡°They were safe before we came here.¡±


    Andy snorted. ¡°Yeah, for how long? A bunch of them were trying to break out.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the point,¡± Clara said, fists clenched. Golden light swelled in her hands. ¡°They were safe. They were fine without us. But because we were greedy-¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°No, come on. We thought the vault was empty.¡± Andy holstered Julie and patted Clara on the shoulder. It was intended to cheer her up, but she just looked at him puzzled. ¡°Where¡¯s our tech support anyway? Shouldn¡¯t he be opening this door for us?¡±


    ¡°He went silent.¡±


    ¡°Course he did. Bet this was all part of his plan.¡±


    ¡°I doubt that.¡± Clara¡¯s voice sounded hollow.


    ¡°Cheer up sis. Shit happens.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the point.¡±


    ¡°What is then?¡±


    Clara turned her head away from him, gazing into the cave. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Taking the stairs, she descended into the cave. Andy sat on the top steps, watching as she approached the vault dwellers, walking amongst them, talking with them. Andy wondered what she got out of it¨Cwhat was the point? Vault dwellers moved around them, tending to the injured and undergoing small tasks, keeping themselves busy. A few had ventured off the walkway to inspect the cave¡¯s walls for cracks or crevices¨Csecret ways out. Andy could see well enough in the dark to know it was hopeless.


    Clara wove through the throng and knelt beside a mother with her two kids. Not many children had gotten this far. One boy held a small flashlight in his hand, the light of which had grown dim. Taking the flashlight off him, Clara clutched it in her hands, saying something to the boy and his mother. Andy watched them with piercing eyes. They might turn on Clara¨Cblame him and his sister for bringing the shadow demon here, despite that the two of them were the vaulties last remaining hope of survival. People did strange things when they were so close to death. He¡¯d seen it happen before. A dying man¡¯s gambit for revenge¨Ca bloody trigger pulled with a man¡¯s final breath. It was commonplace in the wasteland. Yet, these vaulties weren¡¯t like that. They¡¯d been sheltered from it all. This was their first exposure to the madness.


    The soft yellow glow around Clara was shy at first, then it grew stronger, defying darkness. When she returned the flashlight to the child, it twinkled like a gem. The boy turned it over in his hands astounded, then started waving it around excitedly. His mother squinted and stroked her boy¡¯s head, then said something to Clara. She smiled, like a grimace, then rose.


    Watching from afar, Andy sighed and relaxed. ¡°If you¡¯ve been coding some sort of burrowing, Megamole ability,¡± Andy said to his AI. ¡°Now would be the time.¡±


    Negative, the voice informed him.


    ¡°What about you?¡± he said, drawing Julie. ¡°Ready to tell me what¡¯s up?¡±


    She didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°You sure do pick your moments, don¡¯t you. Has this got something to do with my cool new vampire powers? Are you jealous?¡±


    Julie dangled from his finger, limply ignoring him.


    ¡°That¡¯s it, isn¡¯t it? I¡¯m sorry babe, but I¡¯ve got more going on in my life than just¡­ this.¡± Andy set Julie down on the stairs. ¡°I¡¯ve been a killer long before I met you, and now I¡¯m doubly special. An augmented-vampire. Probably the only one in the world.¡±


    Julie was silent.


    ¡°Never mind then, if you¡¯re not going to say anything.¡± Andy reached for his hip flask, but it was still empty. His chest felt tight, but he had to be strict. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s time we took a break from things.¡±


    Somebody screamed in the cave below, rising to a shrill chorus as the vaulties fled the elevator shaft. ¡°They¡¯re coming,¡± they screamed, stampeding up the steps towards him. Andy holstered Julie and clutched the railing, wading past the horde to get to the elevator shaft. Clara cast light on the rectangle metal shaft poking up through the walkway. Black smoke sifted through the metal seams, like silk threads, rising on an inexplicable cold wind.


    Suddenly, the smoke got caught in the beam of bright white flashlight, singing it to dust. A mother clutched her child at the back of the walkway, pointing the flashlight on the elevator shaft. Clara charged ahead, adding her golden light to the assault, but what followed the smoke wasn¡¯t so easily dispelled.


    Amorphous flesh bulged through the seams like rising dough escaping a cake tin. The doors screeched as they were dragged open on their tracks. Engorged limbs cracked the steel casing like an egg shell. The aberration reached out of the darkness, grasping the edges of its confines, birthing itself into the cave. Clara struck it with a thunderbolt. The air crackled as the cave shook. More flashlights joined the mothers¡¯ in the assault, forming a blazing spotlight upon the crumpled elevator enclosure.


    Two fat, seven-fingered hands gripped the broken elevator doors, followed by all manner of limbs, trunks and tentacles. The militant vault dwellers backed up, weapons raised, huddling in groups with riot shield bearers at the front.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Andy said, from the back of the group. ¡°Excuse me, please.¡± He could eviscerate the monster with just one Vortex Shot from Julie, assuming she behaved, if only the vaulties moved out of his way. Ahead of him, Blue-cap limed into the melee, shoving the barrel of his shock rifle into an outstretched trunk like a spade into mud. He pulled the trigger and sparks erupted from the contact, showering him with a furnace glow, screaming profanities. The vault dwellers entered some sort of primal rage, emboldened by Blue-cap¡¯s heroism, and charged headfast into the fray. One man kicked and bashed a trunk-like limb with the barrel of his gun, another stabbed it with a kitchen knife. They banded together, arm over leg, severing limbs, repelling the monster off its purchase.


    Blue lightning showered the elevator enclosure as Clara pumped wave after wave of electricity over the hull. With a crash, the monster plummeted down the shaft.


    ¡°Yeah, fucking die down there,¡± Blue-cap yelled as the vaulties cheered in victory.


    ¡°You¡¯re never getting up,¡± someone else shouted.


    Andy ignored them, surveying the damage. He had already learned that the hulking monster was just a fleshy vanguard¨Ca tool which the shadow entity used to bore a path towards its prey. It had tore a hole in the elevator doors, ruptured the metal frame, created a breach. Job done. It might come back to widen the gap a couple more times¨Cin fact, Andy hoped it would. So long as the fleshy-thing was attacking them, the main threat was absent. Once the shadows came for them, they were in real trouble.


    Andy sat at the bottom of the walkway steps, watching Clara organise the combat-ready vaulties. There were only so many useful weapons to go around, which left the majority of the vault survivors huddled on the steps behind Andy, keeping their flashlights on dim settings, ready to shine them on the elevator shaft if something popped its head out to say hi. But Andy knew, if there was no way out, and he couldn¡¯t blast a hole in the vault door, then it was only a matter of time for them all.


    ¡°I¡¯ve sent a distress signal.¡± Clara sat beside him on the steps, wincing at the wound in her chest. Settling in, she tapped her wrist terminal. ¡°This close to the surface, I should be able to transmit outside. I think¡­ No, I can. It is transmitting outside. Anyone passing will detect the signal and know that there are people in here. Then¡­¡± She got lost in her own thoughts.


    ¡°Then they¡¯ll open the door, probably looking to ransack the vault themselves.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. There¡¯s a control panel on the outside. They can¡­ Probably, they can¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, they¡¯ll just press the green button, it¡¯ll open. Voila. That said, I hope I didn¡¯t damage the door too much that it¡¯ll get jammed.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll have a problem in that regard.¡±


    ¡°What are you trying to say?¡±


    Clara glanced back at the vault door, barely dented by his efforts. ¡°I¡¯m trying to say your skillset is a bit lacking, Andy.¡±


    Andy¡¯s jaw dropped and he stared at his sister in mock horror.


    She snorted. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°So, I can¡¯t blow up a vault door built to withstand a nuclear bomb, and my skillset is lacking?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Clara smiled softly. ¡°So is mine.¡± She gazed at her hands. Her eyes were pitted with bruises, her breathing shallow. Her head lolled on her neck, and she leaned on Andy¡¯s arm. He sat a little stiff, then she rested her head on his shoulder. She was shorter than him, so he had to slouch a little to make it comfortable for her. Putting his arm around her, Andy glared at the elevator shaft, a fresh determination sweeping over him. No matter what came out of there, he¡¯d murder it. Nevermind logistics, or the odds of them surviving, or how long it took. He didn¡¯t care. He¡¯d kill whatever came for them. That was that.


    After a few minutes, Andy took off his leather jacket and laid it on the floor for Clara to rest her head. She lay at his feet and fell asleep almost immediately. Andy loomed over her, legs spread out on the step, moving for no one. When vault dwellers approached, seeking Clara¡¯s attention, Andy glowered at them, a death stare which sent them away. Clara murmured in her shallow sleep, legs twitching. The minutes slithered by as time chased its own tail, spinning out into the darkness, getting lost and growing meaningless. Likely, hours had passed as Andy marinated in the stale air. The mountain hummed above him¨Cnot so much audible as it was physical¨Clike an engulfing subsonic oppression. The moist air of the cave coated his skin, filling his lungs, tainted with the smell of human bodily fear, tickling his tongue with a sickening hunger.


    A scraping sound alerted him, coming from the elevator shaft. The voices of vault dwellers picked up around him, a gaggle of geese, waking Clara from her rest. She gazed up at him, a question in her glassy eyes.


    ¡°Wakey wakey,¡± Andy said. ¡°It¡¯s last stand time, sis.¡±

 Chapter 62 - Annihilation

    Andy peered through the torn steel gaps of the ruined elevator enclosure. A black smokescreen pooled in the shaft. Andy backed up, holding Julie at his side, waiting for the aberration to show itself. Something wriggled out of the dark, poking through a tear in the steel and grasped the walkway. Andy aimed Julie, but a peculiarity stayed Andy¡¯s hand. A face looked up at him at the top of the obtuse limb, like a fat demonic slug. Its jaw was stretched and fused into its obese neck, teeth jutting like crooked thangs. Its eyes were wide open, pointed in opposite directions, the red flesh of their sockets exposed and stretched over its face. Slowly, its veiny pupils swam around to focus on Andy¡¯s face, regarding him with an agonised, imprisoned expression. Its throat gargled as its tongue drooped out of its mouth. ¡°Kill¡­ me¡­¡±


    ¡°Obliged.¡± Andy shot the face point blank with a Vortex Shot. It exploded in chunks of flesh, but more limbs replaced it, dragging a bulbous body behind them like a tick. Andy fired again and again, like shooting into a mudslide, a swathe of explosive force which destroyed the elevator enclosure. With Julie¡¯s final bullet, Andy braced himself, summoning all of his remaining power. ¡°Come on baby,¡± he murmured, as Julie rattled in his hands. The fire of a Vortex Cannon raged inside him until he couldn¡¯t take it any longer, and he pulled the trigger, releasing the pressure, annihilating the gore-beast with one shot.


    An upright trunk with three arms for fingers collapsed with a wet thud as the devastated carcass slid back down the elevator¡¯s shaft, leaving behind a splatter of gore and severed limbs. His and Julie¡¯s power was ecstatic, releasing a knot in Andy¡¯s chest. He rubbed Julie¡¯s polished-wood handle with his thumb, but the apology wouldn¡¯t come. Later, he told himself. Andy reloaded her cylinder delicately, savouring the sensation of filling her up, while all around him, the vault dwellers panicked and fretted. The shaft was fully exposed now. No barricade, just a hole in the ground, and darkness below.


    ¡°It¡¯s the devil!¡±


    ¡°Help us!¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Was that the Honcho¡¯s face?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re doomed!¡±


    ¡°Help us!¡±


    ¡°Are those our¡­¡±


    ¡°That was the Honcho¡¯s face.¡±


    ¡°What has it done to him?¡±


    ¡°Are they¡­?¡±


    ¡°The others?¡±


    ¡°Is that what it has done to them?¡±


    ¡°Why won¡¯t it die?¡±


    ¡°Fires,¡± Clara shouted. ¡°Light the fires. Arm yourselves. It¡¯s coming.¡±


    Out of the elevator shaft rose an impeccable darkness. A blight on reality. It billowed like a mushroom cloud, spreading to the cave¡¯s roof in an instant. Lightning shot past Andy¡¯s face, burning a hole into the black sky, bubbling through its surface like a white hot ball of lead dropped into a freezing lake. The shadow shuddered and shrank as the vaulties focussed their flashlights on it, plunging the white beams beneath its surface, while shock rifles crackled overhead. The combined glare stung Andy¡¯s eyes. Shielding his face, he held Julie at his hip, ready to intercept with a Vortex Shot, for what little good it would do against the apparition.


    Blue-cap jammed his shock rifle into the mouth of the elevator shaft and pulled the trigger. The shockwave severed the shadow¡¯s seeping tail. Other vaulties joined him, cutting off the looming darkness above them from its main body, deep underground. For a moment, the shadow entity shrank back into the recesses of the cave, clinging to the walls, wreathed in burning in light. Clara¡¯s golden thunderbolts shattering over the cave walls like a catastrophic storm. For a moment, Andy thought they might kill it. Perhaps its form was finite. If they could seep it out of the vault like leaking a car tire, they could burn it out, repel it over and over again. They might survive. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Clara fell to her knees, the golden glow in her fists diminishing. Andy ran to her aid, but she hadn¡¯t been hit. She was just exhausted. The light around them dimmed as flashlights shattered, and one by one, the lights went out.


    Like the drawing of a curtain, the shadow swept across the walls of the cave. It swooped down upon the civilians huddled on the walkway steps like a sudden shower of rain. People screamed and cried, banging on the vault door, clawing at the walls, echoing endlessly, drowning Andy in the din of carnage.


    Andy focussed on the elevator shaft. Spears of black, unnaturally polygonal, stabbed at the shields of the militia. One pierced through the gaps and cut down a man, stretching out and pinning him to the walkway. He writhed in pain as his comrades severed the spear with zaps from their tasers. But it was too late for their comrade. Clara staggered to their aid, thrusting her hands forward, fingertips extended, firing bursts of blue electricity. Andy followed her, firing Vortex Shots into the dark, pushing back the demon, buying them a few seconds. The vaulties broke and retreated to the steps while Clara remained on the walkway. Around them others had managed to light fires from piles of gathered materials, but they did little to hold back the black tide.


    Spears struck from the dark. Andy¡¯s Reflex Shot triggered, and he blasted at anything incoming, counting his bullets, swiftly reloading when he got the chance. Suddenly, with a gust of wind, the fires went out. The vault dwellers shrieked and fled, jumping over the walkway onto the uneven rock, slipping and falling over one another. The sounds and smells of mayhem inundated him. His mouth watered and his heart raced. Andy¡¯s thoughts receded to urge, and he clung to Clara¡¯s jacket not to drown. She grabbed his wrist, guiding him in the dark, the warm glow in her palm tempering his heartbeat.


    Clouds descended on them. Andy opened fire, but it was like pushing against a wave. A dagger struck Clara in the dark. Her thunderbolt fizzed and discharged. She fell at Andy¡¯s feet, clutching her head. The smell of blood bit Andy¡¯s nostrils. His sister. His blood, whom he was supposed to protect, had been spilled. Desecrated. A grenade went off in his gutt. Andy hadn¡¯t remembered his capacity for suffering until he saw Clara cut down. Beneath the surface, deep underground, locked inside a concrete box was an apocalyptic grief, like the fusion core of an atomic bomb, barely contained with its lead shell. The fuse was lit. His sister screamed¨Cthe sound, a potent memory, etched into the grooves of his brain¨Cturned real, conjuring a cruel spirit on the world. Crueler by many magnitudes than the demon engulfing them.


    Hatred annihilated him. His rage was inferno, and within its purifying flames, bliss. Andy bore into the black veil¡¯s throat as it latched onto him with ripping scythes. Dogs with locked jaws, twisting and tearing, seized in death¡¯s throws, beyond pain and feeling, just kill, kill, kill.


    Blue lightning crackled across his vision, consumed by the black. Clara¡¯s voice in the dark. A soft hand on his shoulder, then a stabbing pain in his chest. Andy gritted his teeth and ragged his head like a wolf tearing chunks of meat from its prey. The shadow tasted like ice in his throat¨Cstinging his teeth. He choked¨Cbeyond breath now¨Conly death. His blood mingled with the shadow as the two clawed and coiled. The end was near, yet Andy dove for the exit. His boundless pain would remain until the last drop of blood fled his veins, and mercifully, he would be laid to rest.


    Bright light stung his face like a bucket of bleach thrown over his head. The body of his prey evaporated beneath him. Andy toppled to the floor, empty. There was a deep crack, as though the cave had split in two. Andy looked around for the source of the sound. He tried to push himself up but was too weak. The walkway was cold against his ace. His consciousness bled away as an impossible light washed over him. Panting, he struggled to his knees, scanning for danger, but a fierce light burned everything away.


    He turned to face Clara, expecting her to have risen into some sort of angelic being, casting the demon back to hell. But she was lying at the bottom of the steps, clutching her wounds, a mere candlelight of energy in her fists.


    An impossible draft swept through the chamber, billowing fresh air with the growing light. From atop the walkway, the vault door slid open on its treads. A figure stood silhouetted in the daylight. He wore shorts, holding a biker¡¯s helmet under his arm and an ornate cavalry sword. The man strode forward, arms outstretched like a saint addressing his devotees. ¡°Erm¡­ Hello everyone.¡± He waved. ¡°Hello. My name¡¯s Gabriel. You¡¯re safe. Come on then.¡±


    The vaulties clustered around the exit cheered and gasped with relief, swaying towards the light. Before him, Clara raised her head numbly, tired jaw hanging open. ¡°You came.¡± Despite exhaustion, her voice was astounded.


    ¡°Did you ever have a shadow of doubt that I wouldn¡¯t rescue you?¡±


    Andy crawled over to his sister and lay beside her, surrendering to exhaustion, nodding to himself. ¡°That¡¯s a fine pun, sir.¡± He closed his eyes. ¡°Well done.¡±

 Chapter 63 - Exodus

    Clara dragged herself and Andy up the remaining steps and collapsed in the sunlight. With her back against the cave wall, she drank in the early afternoon sun¡¯s rays. Survivors staggered into the light and collapsed in its glow, sobbing and preying. An old man gazed at the sky like a child, enthralled in its glory. Others were too tired to take it in, simply lying on their backs breathing heavily. They were out of it, in shock, almost all of them¨Cforty in total. That¡¯s all she¡¯d managed to save. Nearby, at the top of the internal walkway, Gary curled into a ball, his back to the ceiling, cradling somebody beneath him. A young girl pried herself free of his long slender arms and staggered into the sunlight, gazing at the sky for the first ever time. Gary, however, remained motionless.


    Clara¡¯s limbs were reluctant to obey her as she rose on wobbly knees and hobbled to his side. His back was shredded to ribbons, white overalls now a wet red. A woman staggered past him into the light, barely noticing his body. It seemed that the vault dwellers had witnessed so much, so quickly, that they¡¯d become numb to it.


    ¡°Help him,¡± she said to passersby. They mutely obeyed, carrying the man by his arms and legs into the sunlight outside. Clara fell beside him, watching the vault dwellers cross the dividing line into the wasteland and into freedom. Just less than twenty had survived. They were all injured, and now they were stranded, clueless and unarmed.


    ¡°I came when I realised that we had lost connection,¡± Gabriel explained. He stood above her, dressed in cargo shorts and a garish red and green flowery shirt, which mocked the horrors of her recent memory. He swung an ornate sword as he spoke, there was a pep in his step and a lilt in his voice like a puppy dog dancing for praise.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said.


    ¡°The journey wasn¡¯t easy. I had to cycle here on a flat tyre. Well, mostly flat. I think I bruised my coccyx, you know that bone at the base of your spine?¡±


    Clara glanced back into the vault. Andy sat inside with his back to the vault door. Despite what they had just gone through, he still favoured the shadows over the sunlight. That was new about him, likely a quality of being a vampire now. Half-vampire? She¡¯d have to strap her wrist terminal to his arm and get a reading before she knew.


    Clara extended a hand to Gabriel. ¡°Help me with something.¡± Together, they headed to where Clara had parked their motorcycle. It was a surreal feeling, being stood in the same spot, only twenty-four hours later, after so much had changed. So much death. They should never have come.


    ¡°Wheel it,¡± she said.


    Gabriel grabbed the handlebars and pushed, but the parking brake scraped across the concrete. Clara kicked it up for him and followed behind, slouched over in exhaustion. She lagged behind as Gabriel wheeled the bike over to the vault entrance. Her legs hurt, her hands stung, her head throbbed, her feet killed. Her combat jacket rubbed against the wounds on her ribs, breast and stomach¨Ca dozen or so cuts, some deep, bad. They would all leave ugly scars.


    Catching up, Clara started unpacking her bags. There were some spare clothes which she handed out to a couple vault dwellers to tear into strips and use as bandages. But more importantly, there was a small first aid kit and two bottles of water. She quickly patched the worst of her wounds, taking a swig of water, then handed the bottles out to the group. Blinking through glassy eyes, a few of the vault dwellers rose and began asking questions, taking stock. A couple of boys ran down to the stream as an older woman commanded her youngsters to strip unstained clothing into bandages. Gradually, the vault dwellers woke from their nightmare, rousing themselves in the sunlight. Clara was grateful that finally, the weight of survival wasn¡¯t pressed solely on her shoulders. Yet it wasn¡¯t cause for her to rest yet.


    Kneeling beside an injured man, Clara inspected his wounds. For about an hour, she tended to the wounded, rationing the first aid kit as best she could, bandaging lacerations. She only hoped that the shadow demon¡¯s blades were clean, or weren¡¯t poisonous. She¡¯d know soon enough if she came down with a fever.


    She was grateful to be working in the sunlight. The warmth of it restored her energy, trickling down through the top of her head, making her arms twitch and tingle. Sweating, she removed her blood soaked jacket, then all of a sudden pang of intense hunger doubled her over, aggravating the gash in her stomach. She knelt, then lay on her side in a heap breathing heavily as a wave of dizziness washed over her. It alarmed her just how little it took to bring her close to unconsciousness. She was holding on by a thread.


    Gabriel offered her water, and she took a sip. A pleasant breeze funnelled through the canyon sheltering the highway beside the vault entrance, carrying the fragrance of the forest beyond. Clara heaved herself upright, her mind churning through delirium, trying to figure out where her next meal would come from. A fresh wave of cramps gripped her organs. She clenched her teeth as her stomach twitched, fresh blood seeping through her bandage. There were rations in the bike, right?


    Upon her request, Gabriel rummaged through the duffel bag and compartment, finding four dry ration bars. Clara took one, letting the surviving vault dwellers split the rest. Yeah, it was greedy, but she told herself that she¡¯d need her strength if she was going to lead them. Truth was, an animal side of her brain had already taken over.


    ¡°You want half?¡± she asked Andy.


    ¡°Nah,¡± he said lucidly.


    ¡°Thank fuck.¡± Mouth watering, she wolfed half of the bar in one bite, feeling the calories restore a balance to her body and mind.


    ¡°I¡¯m dying,¡± a familiar voice said. Gary had fallen on his side, head against the ground. Blood washed his white overalls in red, drying in his hands, dripping from his mouth. He muttered something else. Clara got close, listening over the distilled conversation of survivors gathered in the mouth of the cave.


    ¡°Turn me,¡± he said.


    ¡°Turn you what? Where?¡±


    ¡°The sun.¡±


    Clara dragged the man by his shoulders so that his body straightened out, then sat upright, cross legged, and rested his head in her lap. His eyelids flickered and opened, staring at the sky. Resting a hand on his forehead, Clara¡¯s throat tightened. If she had the strength, she would have cried.


    ¡°She¡¯s okay,¡± Clara said, looking at the youngest of the survivors: a child of maybe five years squatted beside a crop of daisies poking through the concrete, sharing in their appreciation of the sun.


    ¡°Who?¡± Gary¡¯s eyes closed.


    ¡°The girl. You protected her. She¡¯s okay.¡±


    Gary¡¯s breath was shallow. ¡°Did I?¡±


    ¡°You did.¡±


    A smile crept onto his face, and froze there for a moment. Clara looked away. She didn¡¯t know this man well enough to watch him die. It felt rude, uncomfortably intimate. But they were both human after all. One thing they all shared was mortality. Clara slouched over Gary for as long as she could withstand the physical discomfort in her stomach and spine, stroking his forehead in her lap, looking at the canyon above them, the green shrubbery at its top and the blue sky above it all.


    Finally, she rose, resting Gary¡¯s head against the earth. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Turning her back on his corpse, Clara peaked around the vault door into the shadowy entrance where Andy rested. His leather jacket was covered in cuts, his face was plastered with blood. He breathed softly, shrinking into the shadows.


    ¡°What?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re staring.¡±


    ¡°Come on out. I¡¯m closing the door. Can¡¯t risk it coming back.¡±


    He rose without a word, then held his hand out to the sunlight and paused.


    "What are you doing?" Clara asked.


    "Just making sure I won''t catch fire."


    Clara¡¯s instinct was to scold him for being stupid, but she held her tongue. This mutation was unprecedented territory for them both. ¡°And?¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    He turned his hand over, inspecting it. "Nope, not this time.¡± Stumbling into the carpark outside the cave¡¯s entrance, he found a shadow to sit in. Clara glanced around the vault¡¯s entrance, down the walkway and into the cave which housed the elevator shaft. The chamber was doused by a shifting blade of sunlight. There were human bodies inside, all dead, but she had to double check, or else they¡¯d haunt her nightmares. A trickle of energy flowed into her hands, enough perhaps to ward off the shadow demon if it attacked again, but she was too exhausted to outright oppose it. However, she suspected that the sunlight had defeated it, for the time being, and this was too important to forgo. Descending into the dim, Clara held her breath as she listened out for the vault door to randomly start closing behind her. She inspected the bodies scattered across the walkway, torn and severed, twisted and bent. They were dead, she could be sure.


    She kept her distance from the elevator shaft, still oozing with visceral pulp where Andy had shot the abomination climbing out of it. She could see limbs moving within, dampened by the sun¡¯s rays. Once they closed the vault doors, whatever it was would climb up out of there in the dark and kneed these bodies into its mass like dough. It couldn¡¯t be avoided. At least they were dead. She would have carried the bodies out of the cave, if she¡¯d had the strength, or time, but the sun shifted across the sky, piercing the cave with an ever thinner blade of light.


    Beneath the body at her feet was an assault rifle. Clara picked it up and checked the chamber, then magazine, but it was empty. Slinging it over her shoulder, she climbed the stairs. Something shifted in her peripherals. A trickle of darkness which consumed the light. Though beaten, the demon was not destroyed. And when the door was closed, it would gain strength again.


    ¡°Gabriel,¡± she said, exciting the vault with one hand on the thick steel doorway to steady herself. ¡°Close it. Lock it.¡±


    ¡°Can do, kangaroo.¡± Interfacing with the external control panel, he set the doors to closing. The heavy slab ground on its tracks as a silent red claxon spun above her head.


    ¡°Wait,¡± a man said, hobbling towards the entrance. ¡°There are others.¡±


    Clara was lost for words. She stood beside Gabriel as the vault sealed behind her.


    ¡°There¡¯s no others, man,¡± another dweller consoled his comrade. ¡°It¡¯s just us.¡±


    ¡°Shut it,¡± a woman said spitefully. ¡°Bury it. Burry them.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let that thing out,¡± another echoed her sentiment.


    Clara hid her face in her backpack, taking longer to retrieve something than was necessary. About her, the vault dwellers murmured as the door clasped shut and the claxon abetted. Finally, Clara withdrew a can of spray paint which she had intended to use to mark the vault¡¯s interior corridors with directional arrows so that they didn¡¯t get lost scavenging. Once the vault door locked in place, she shook the can and wrote on its surface in large letters: ¡®BEWARE - DEMON¡¯.


    Once finished, she observed their group. Many huddled in the mouth of the shallow cave, as though afraid of the open sky. Others wandered over the concrete, awestruck by their surroundings. Some inspected the derelict cars¨Cperhaps the vehicles which they had driven in on the way to occupy the vault nine years ago. Clara watched as the young girl approached Andy and handed him a daisy she had picked. Andy¡¯s face was in his chest, his black fringe covering his face. The girl knelt and Andy raised his head. Combing his hair behind his ear, he accepted the flower, not with a smile, but with a frown. Then he unholstered his revolver and handed it to the girl in return.


    ¡°Whoa, whoa,¡± Clara said, marching over. ¡°That¡¯s not for children to play with.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s unloaded,¡± Andy said, twirling the flower between his thumb and forefinger.


    ¡°Even so.¡± Clara took the revolver off the child and handed it back to Andy, then picked the kid up. ¡°Hey everyone,¡± she raised her voice. ¡°Let¡¯s get away from the entrance. We can gather in that bus over there.¡±


    Immediately, about half of the survivors picked themselves up and started following Clara¡¯s direction. But the over half wavered. Some appeared confused, exhausted or afraid. Others were angry.


    ¡°How can we trust you,¡± a man with dark hair spat, the same man who had protested her sealing the vault door. ¡°This is your fault, it has to be.¡±


    Clara didn¡¯t have the time or energy to consider his accusation. It was unimportant. ¡°You saw us fight for you,¡± Clara said, with more aggression than she¡¯d intended. ¡°We risked our lives to save you. And now, we¡¯re your best shot.¡±


    The man was silent. Clara knew he had good reason to be angry, but she hadn¡¯t the energy for coercion. Until these people were safe, somewhere in the wasteland, she had a job to do. ¡°Do what I say, and you might survive the week. If you¡¯d rather wander off and lead yourselves, then I can¡¯t stop you.¡±


    The stragglers trickled past her, heading towards a derelict bus on the highway where the others gathered. Clara followed them, her tired mind racing to piece together a plan. The vault dwellers were too injured and exhausted to travel far, but they weren¡¯t safe out in the open. Gathering inside the bus''s leaky interior, Clara had them pile their weapons on the front row. Most of them were modified for use against the shadows, and wouldn¡¯t work so well on the likes of trolls or zombies or mutants. However, among the haul was a shock rifle still intact and two 9mm sidearms. Clara took a pistol containing five rounds, relinquishing her assault rifle to the pile alongside two others¨Cthey were useless until they found ammo for it.


    ¡°There¡¯s a settlement that will take you in,¡± she explained, once the group were seated amongst the moss-covered cushions. ¡°Milltown. There¡¯s a lot of abandoned buildings, and some industry. You¡¯ll be able to rebuild your lives there.¡±


    ¡°What about the monsters?¡± a woman asked. Her eye had swollen shut, a deep gash across her brow. ¡°Where do we go when the sun goes down?¡±


    ¡°That thing in the vault was not common,¡± Clara said. ¡°It¡­ Honestly, it was a lot stronger than anything we¡¯ve faced before.¡±


    ¡°There are more of them?¡± the man who had objected earlier said. His leg and boot were covered in blood, his short black hair stuck up with sweat.


    ¡°No,¡± Clara said. ¡°Well¡­ There¡¯s more of a lot of things, but most of them are easier to handle than that.¡±


    ¡°We need weapons,¡± the man said.


    ¡°You need rest.¡± Clara said. ¡°Andy and I will secure the perimeter. We will stay here for a day, maybe two-¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not safe,¡± the man moaned. ¡°We can¡¯t stay outside.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the best you¡¯ve got,¡± Clara said. ¡°Listen to me. I have experience. I know this land better than you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust you,¡± he spat. ¡°Who even are you? Where did you come from? You¡­ brought that thing here.¡±


    ¡°They saved us,¡± a woman yelled¨Cthe one whom Andy and she had lifted through the elevator shaft. Blood streaked her face, and she bent over clutching a gut wound, but she was live. ¡°They risked their lives and they saved us.¡±


    ¡°They brought that thing.¡±


    ¡°No. They killed it.¡±


    At the back of the bus, an old man rose, wide eyed. He gazed at the ceiling in freight as though monsters crawled across the roof. ¡°We need to go. We need to leave.¡±


    A younger man put a hand on his arm and guided him back to his seat. ¡°It¡¯s okay. We¡¯re outside. Look at the sunlight dad.¡± The younger man pointed out the window. ¡°Look outside.¡±


    ¡°Listen to me,¡± Clara said, calm but firm. ¡°I¡¯m telling you, you can¡¯t trek through the mountains as beat up as you are. You need to rest. We form a plan first, then we leave tomorrow morning.¡±


    ¡°Whose plan?¡± the rowdy vault dweller said. ¡°Yours?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m open to suggestions,¡± Clara said half-heartedly, turning towards the exit. Andy was sitting in the driver¡¯s sea with his legs up on the dashboard. Beneath him, the little girl curled up in the footwell, eyes like a cat¡¯s silent and judging.


    ¡°Andy, a word.¡±


    He heaved himself up and followed her outside. The girl trailed behind him, skipping down the busses steps to grab his hand. Andy didn¡¯t flinch at the contact, he just looked down at the girl and held back.


    ¡°We need to secure the area,¡± Clara said, leading them out of earshot of the vault dwellers. Inside the bus, voices were raised as the survivors argued over what to do next, or moaned in pain as others applied bandages, or praised their gods for a second chance at life.


    ¡°On it,¡± Andy said, letting go of the girl¡¯s hand, patting her on the head. ¡°Wait here. Warn me if you see something,¡± he commanded her with a wry wink.


    The girl smiled and flittered over to Clara¡¯s side, grasping her hand.


    ¡°We¡¯ll move them to Milltown,¡± Clara continued before Andy could get away. ¡°We¡¯ll go on foot.¡±


    He nodded, already purveying the roadside for vantage points and danger.


    ¡°Hey, Andy,¡± she said as he departed. ¡°We did our best.¡±


    He stopped and turned to her, then glanced at the bus of refugees. A younger man helped his elderly father down the steps of the bus. He nodded as he passed Andy, directing his father into the sunlight on the road. There, they sat on the bonnet of a car and stared at the sky.


    ¡°They¡¯d all be dead if not,¡± Clara said, motioning to the girl at her side, mouthing ¡°This one too.¡±


    Andy was expressionless, but his gaze lingered on the girl, then rose to Clara. She shivered as something seemed to pass between them like an exposing breeze. Then Andy nodded, and without a lick of emotion added, ¡°Yeah, well done.¡±


    That night, Clara lay half-awake on the bus¡¯ roof, Andy beside her and the girl in her arms. The little one didn¡¯t talk at all, and Clara decided not to pry. She was clearly in shock, an orphan to madness. All she needed was a warm body beside hers. Clara knew the feeling, though it had been a long time since she¡¯d remembered it.


    ¡°Milltown,¡± Gabriel mused, beside her atop the bus. ¡°I think I know it, though the journey may be tough. I¡¯ve developed three blisters on my right foot just coming here, and frankly, I¡¯m quite hungry. I didn¡¯t pack for a round trip.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll scavenge,¡± Clara said tiredly, staring at the stars beneath a blanket. ¡°You¡¯re better off sticking with us, though, you¡¯re welcome to head back home if you want.¡±


    There was a long silence. After a while, Clara wondered if Gabriel intended to speak at all.


    ¡°I could go scavenging,¡± he said quietly.


    ¡°Wait until light,¡± Clara said, closing her eyes. ¡°Thanks Gabe.¡±


    He chuckled awkwardly. ¡°It¡¯s not a problem. I¡¯m not entirely useless away from a keyboard, you know?¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she said, drifting off, exhaustion taking over. ¡°Thank you.¡±

 Chapter 64 - Daisy

    In the morning, Clara rounded up the survivors, crafting two stretchers from old riot shields, and set off. Those few who had protested her plan, lingered with the bus outside the vault¡¯s entrance. However, before an hour had gone by, she spotted them jogging to catch up, afraid of being left behind. Clara checked her terminal once more for the best path towards Milltown only to realise the distress signal she had activated inside the vault¡¯s exit was still transmitting. Ending it, she mapped out a route, and marched on, leading the thirty-nine total survivors around one bend in the road at a time.


    By early afternoon, the road dipped between two cliffs and widened at a gravel verge, staring up at a wide valley. Snow capped mountains rose around them. Shrubbs climbed the hill to their right, and a small stream trickled over stones, pooling in the road before cascading over the cliff¡¯s edge to their left Clara filled her bottle as the others fell upon the stream, drinking firstly. The climb had been steep, and the roads were logged with traffic. Their pace was further slowed by the injured. Despite that Clara was the vault dweller¡¯s guide, she didn¡¯t feel like their friend. They spoke in hushed voices while she was near, casting wary eyes. For now, they had no other option than to trust her judgement. The little girl with ginger hair, at least, never left her side.


    Sitting on the roadside, Clara inspected her wounds. The bleeding had stopped, but the pain was ever present. Still, she found strength from somewhere¨Cher will, or perhaps that of her Augmentation. Whatever the source, she managed to rise in search of supplies. Venturing down the road while the others rested, she spotted a lodge built into the cliff¡¯s face. An old hotel maybe. Clara returned to the vault dwellers and announced, ¡°Who can walk? There¡¯s a building we can scavenge for supplies. Food, maybe medicine.¡±


    A boy raised his hand and emerged from the crowd. He looked about in his early teens. None of the adults tried to stop him as he ventured forward. Presumably, his family were still down in the vault.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Clara smiled. ¡°Are you coming too?¡± she asked the girl at her hip. The kid nodded eagerly. Taking both kids by their shoulders, Clara pulled them in close and bent over conspiratorially. ¡°We¡¯re going to go on a super important mission. Are you sure you have the strength?¡±


    The girl nodded, and the boy whispered ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Right, follow me. We¡¯re going scavenging for food.¡±


    ¡°What should I do?¡± Gabriel asked, wandering over. He rested his thin ornament sword over the back of his neck as though posing for a regal painting.


    ¡°Follow us. Keep a lookout.¡±


    Clara left Andy with the survivors on the roadside and and walked amongst the derelict highway, peering through windows and opening up boots and lifted up blankets, searching for supplies. The little girl accompanying Clara grabbed her hand and held it tight. Clara squeezed it gently. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    The girl stared up at her through full-moon eyes, twinkling in the light of day. A dark smear of blood stained her pale ginger hair.


    Clara smiled in response. ¡°My name¡¯s Clara.¡± Picking up an empty can of beans, she showed it to her helpers. ¡°This is what we need, but not one that¡¯s open like this. The ring on top cannot have any holes in it.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± Gabriel said. She hadn¡¯t expected him to be behind her.


    ¡°Oh, I meant, keep a lookout at the bus,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Yes, well, I thought maybe I could help you instead.¡± This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Okay.¡± Why had he asked if he wasn¡¯t going to listen? ¡°We need food mainly, but ammunition wouldn¡¯t hurt.¡±


    Stick-like amalgamations, long since trimmed of flesh, occupied many of the vehicles. Clara barely recognised them as skeletons anymore, but with the children at her side, it was like seeing things through their eyes¨Ca fresh perspective. A skull lay in the footwell of a small pink car, grime stretched over its dome, coating its features like a layer of flesh. Clara reached past it to get at an old rucksack, rotting beside it. The girl didn¡¯t seem afraid of the dead, either she didn¡¯t know what a skeleton was, or she was in such a state of shock that she couldn¡¯t feel fear.


    Ahead, Clara lifted the girl over a patch of broken glass. Her thin slipper-shoes weren¡¯t suitable for the rough terrain, not like Clara¡¯s steel-toe-capped boots. A buzzing sound caught Clara¡¯s attention¨Clike the whirring of a computer fan with something stuck in the spokes. She scanned the sky for the sound. But before she could spot it, the boy skipped around the side of a truck, brandishing something. ¡°Is this it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the one,¡± Clara said, inspecting the can. Vegetable soup. She pierced it and smelled the contents. Spoiled, but not rotten, nothing a hot fire wouldn¡¯t fix. ¡°Good job¡­ Sorry, what¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Sam,¡± the boy replied, a note of pride in his voice. ¡°I¡¯ll get more.¡±


    ¡°Show me where it came from,¡± Clara said, following the bot towards a large pickup truck with a canvas stretched over the boot. Sam climbed up inside and was rummaging around for more prizes. He and Clara seemed to share something in common: staying active provided him with a semblance of control, stability. That was good. It was a useful trait in the apocalypses.


    The thrum of an engine cut through the canyon. Clara¡¯s head shot around. It came from back the way they had come. Had Andy managed to get a vehicle started? If so, that was a miracle, so long as it was something agile like a motorbike which could cut through the traffic. They could use it to carry the injured and pick up their pace. Perhaps Clara could scout ahead with the bike, or send a messenger to Milltown to expect their arrival.


    ¡°Come on, this will do. Sam,¡± she said. ¡°Let¡¯s go back.¡±


    A cloud passed over the canyon. The engine grew louder, and with it, a sense of unease. So the vehicle wasn¡¯t stationary. But what kind of engine was that? A truck? A tank? Climbing on top of a car bonnet, Clara stared down the highway towards a bend in the road where the survivors gathered. Gabriel turned around and walked back towards the approaching vehicle, his biker¡¯s helmet full of scavenged supplies. It couldn¡¯t all be food; thinking back to his cluttered bunker, she wondered what useless crap he¡¯d taken from the cars.


    There was an impact, and a dreadful screech shrieked across the canyon like someone was dragging an enormous metal fork over the rocky walls. Then the glimmer of polished metal reflected the waning sunlight. Clara squinted, though her eyes were unfocussed, fatigued. Some large machine waded through the wreckages. The trumpet of a horn startled her, and sent a shiver through her body into her fingers. She recognised the sound, modified pipes distorting it to sound like a baying stallion. The Trojan battlewagon. The Patricians.


    ¡°Come here,¡± Clara said, picking the girl up and overhead, handing her to Sam. ¡°Stay in the boot, pull the canvas over your heads. If anything happens, stay here.¡±


    Sam looked puzzled, but did as he was told. Behind her, more engines joined in the mix, distinctly motorbikes. Clara remembered having seen them parked outside the Patrician¡¯s church outpost in Milltown. Why were they here? Had they detected her distress signal? The timing of their arrival was uncanny. Her gut told her that something was wrong. The last time Clara had spoken with Alister was about a week ago, and he had said something about her not having a choice in her future. Is this what he meant?


    She withdrew her sidearm and turned towards the sound, but paused. What good would five bullets do? She had better rely on her Augmentation¡¯s abilities, and besides, the pistol could mean a lifeline to the kids if they got into trouble. ¡°Take this,¡± she said to Sam, making sure the safety was on. ¡°That¡¯s a very dangerous tool. Do not point it at anything you don¡¯t want to hurt. This is the safety, this is the chamber. The bullets come out of this end. You¡¯ve seen action movies, right?¡±


    Sam nodded.


    ¡°You know what this does then?¡±


    His expression was blank. He looked from the pistol to Clara and shrank away into the dark under the canvas.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid,¡± Clara said. ¡°You¡¯ll need this to protect your sister.¡±


    ¡°My sister?¡±


    ¡°Daisy, here.¡± Clara smiled at the little girl and handed Sam the weapon, then pulled the canvas over their heads and turned to meet the Patricians.

 Chapter 65 - Bloodloss

    Andy was sitting by the roadside, dangling his legs over the cliff¡¯s edge when he heard the engine. They had guests. Now was his moment. He scanned Clara¡¯s flock of vaulties for his target: a young man wearing white overalls with blue trim carrying the shock rifle pillaged from the vault. Andy had let him tend to the weapon for long enough. While he was distracted scanning the approaching vehicle, Andy slipped the rifle off his shoulder and turned aside.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he called, but Andy strode away.


    At first, the shock rifle felt off-balance in his hands, the wire coils and containment fixed to the barrel pulled the muzzle down, and he wasn¡¯t sure how to use the controls. But his Firearms Finesse Augmentation module quickly configured its attributes, adapting him to its unusual weight, guiding him to the trigger¨Ca rubber protected button much like the one on his walkie talkie.


    Exciting the bus, Andy strode out into the middle of the road to greet the newcomers. Five motorbikes poked their heads above the wreckages, weaving down the flanks of the highway, while up the centre waded a large armoured vehicle fitted with a triangular dozer blade, painted to look like the snarling canine jaw. Two metal sheets slanted above the windshield like angry eyebrows, a fringe of barbed wire bounced like luscious curls as the truck rumbled through the wreckages. Andy recognised the vehicle from somewhere, but the recollection was buried beneath countless drunken blackouts. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure if they were friendly.


    Drawing Julie, Andy fired a warning shot into the sheet metal armour above the battlewagon''s windshield. With a jolt, it broke to a stop. The eyebrows lowered over its face, forming a protective visor. The motorbike engines stopped getting louder¨Clikely, the riders had dismounted to sneak towards him on foot. Andy checked his hip flask again, praying that there was a drop hidden in some miraculous crevice, yet it was still empty. He¡¯d kill for a drink.


    ¡°I would refrain from shooting, if I were you.¡± The voice carried across the canyon on hull-mounted speakers, once more, oddly familiar.


    Striding forward, Andy climbed atop the bonnet of a car, using its roof as cover. Shapes moved amongst the cars ahead of the battlewagon, coming closer. Two cars to his left, the afternoon sun shone brightly off the bald head of a short man. He looked at Andy sheepishly from where he crouched not-so-stealthily. Andy waved with Julie, holding the shock rifle in his other hand. ¡°Come for the party? Did you bring anything?¡±


    The man looked at him puzzled, then shifted back into cover.


    Andy¡¯s heart beat raised the tempo. They weren¡¯t aggressive, but they weren¡¯t friendly either. That was all the justification Andy needed.


    ¡°It¡¯s BYOB,¡± he said, switching to his shock rifle and taking aim.¡°You need to bring your own B.¡±


    The pop of a gunshot and ping of a bullet ricocheted off the car roof where he was kneeling. Ducking into cover, Andy clicked the trigger of the shock rifle, kicking out a beam of lighting which scattered over the bald man¡¯s hiding spot, showering the derelict car with sparks. Andy heard him yell over rifle¡¯s fizz, then two more bullets whizzed past his ears, and he decided it was time to jump down.


    ¡°Lay down your arms,¡± a voice commanded. It sounded louder and closer than was possible, but it wasn¡¯t coming from the speakers¨Calmost as if the voice was in his head. Wouldn¡¯t be the first. Darting through the shadows of wreckages, Andy flanked his attackers. The short, bald man was sitting on the floor, clutching his chest, eyes wide, breathing heavy. A young man knelt beside him, peeking through the shattered car window towards the bus of vault dwellers, near where Andy had been standing just seconds before.


    ¡°How does it feel?¡± Andy asked. The boy jumped, his legs splaying out beneath him. He fumbled with a shotgun which looked all too large in his hands. Andy shot him with the shock rifle, a direct hit. The boy¡¯s arms and legs straightened and flopped on the concrete like a fish. Residual lightning peppered the bald man as he curled into an egg, covering his face.


    ¡°Do you have any history of medical conditions?¡± Andy said. ¡°I want to get the settings right. I can turn up the power more, but I imagine that will drain the battery.¡±


    The bald man panted, grasping his heart, while his younger companion groaned face down in the dirty road.


    ¡°On a scale of one-to-ten, one being ¡®not debilitated¡¯, ten being ¡®I just shat myself¡¯, how painful was your experience?¡±


    ¡°Drop your weapon!¡±


    Andy kicked off the floor like a grasshopper, landing on his back and firing at the voice behind him. Somebody had snuck up on him, holding a rifle to his face. As Andy shot him, he shot back, an arch of bullets narrowly missing Andy¡¯s face. The rifle continued to spit bullets as the man fell, spasming in a shockwave.


    Andy spun back into cover, ducking low and relocating to the edge of the highway beside the cliff face. With his back to the rock, at least one of his flanks was secure. His vision wavered as he scoured the roadside, sunlight gleaming off of car roofs. His temples stabbed and throbbed as the familiar concoction of combat enhancing hormones seeped into his veins, though the taste was notably diluted. His reflexes felt slow. There was very little left in the tank. Andy shook his head. There was shouting coming from the vaulties¡¯ bus, but no more gunfire.


    ¡°Andy,¡± Clara squawked over his radio. ¡°Where are you?¡±


    ¡°Left flank,¡± he replied. ¡°You get any beans? Beans or booze, I¡¯ll take either.¡±


    ¡°Surrender.¡± The voice came from the sky. Andy looked up, but no one was there. ¡°You will not be harmed.¡±


    ¡°I could blow up their wheels,¡± Andy radioed, then turned to Julie. ¡°Not as tough as a vault door, I¡¯m sure you could manage it.¡±


    Something struck him in the elbow, and he dropped Julie. Andy¡¯s Reflex Shot instincts triggered, but a moment too late. He fired the shock rifle, but suddenly a weight was upon him, as though somebody was sitting on his chest. Andy¡¯s knees buckled, flailing at the pressure, but his attacker was invisible. Not another apparition monster! Andy grunted as his skull banged off a car bonnet and he fell beneath the chassis. Above him, hovering impossibly, as though suspended on invisible strings, was a man whom he certainly did recognise¨Cthe bloke who had tried to cheat him at pool days earlier. Long sandy hair haloed his face, catching and absorbing the sunlight. He floated downwards, hands outstretched, fingers splayed as though he was tinkering on two invisible pianos.


    ¡°Come for a rematch?¡± Andy said, though the words rumbled together in his compressed throat. Reaching out, Andy summoned Julie to him. She rattled across the concrete, drawn by their Fatal Attraction, but suddenly halted, merely inches from his grasp. Andy stretched out for her, but she was motionless. His heart sank. She had abandoned him.


    The pressure intensified. Andy gasped, struggling for air, as his nemesis drifted closer. The countless wounds criss-crossing his limbs ripped open, staining his bandages red. Pain tore at him, startlingly potent. Andy ground his teeth as the pressure in his skull built to a breaking point, his headache boiled his eyeballs in their sockets, bursting them with flashes of blistering white light. His nemesis snapped his fingers, and consciousness staggered into black¡­


    Andy was looking down on himself, lying dead by the roadside¡­ Or was that his reflection in a motorcycle helmet? Blackness. The smell of diesel. A grinding pain in his spine. Blackness. Something yanked his arms and pulled his hair. Pain. Blackness.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    When Andy woke, his hands were bound behind his back. He opened his eyes, but only a sliver of light penetrated the veil before his eyes. Adrenaline fizzed as his heart stammered to beat faster, but he was almost too exhausted to react. The synthetic smell of a canvas shopping bag merged with the warm stench of his own breath. Something was strapped across his chest, propping him upright. Someone coughed beside him and muttered. Andy could tell from the acoustics that he was in a small room, which wobbled on suspension. Likely, he was in the back of the battlewagon.


    ¡°Clara?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± she said, sitting opposite him.


    ¡°No talking, you two,¡± another voice said, low and gruff.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Andy asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not hurt,¡± she said.


    ¡°No talking,¡± the man said sternly. Andy looked towards the sound, his hearing keen. He imagined he could sense the man¡¯s body beyond the bag covering his face. Andy leant forward against his restraints, feeling them press against his shoulder¨Ca cross over his chest. Probably a seatbelt. Slivering around, he searched for the clasp with his fingertips.


    Something struck him in the face, knocking his head to the side. He collapsed, utterly incapable of anticipating the impact. ¡°I don¡¯t want to do that again,¡± the voice said. It didn¡¯t sound like the sandy-blonde pool cheat.


    Andy was shoved upright, a stranger''s hands grasped him by the shoulders. He was wet and cold, except for hot slashes where his wounds had reopened. Panic rushed in to fill the void of exhaustion. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me,¡± he growled. Pressing his back to the wall, Andy kicked out, feeling the satisfying impact of flesh beneath his boot. Kicking, Andy bounced back against the wall, trying to make himself a moving target. Someone grabbed his leg, but Andy kicked at the fingers, his heavy boots stamping them like twigs.


    A force like a hammer smashed into Andy¡¯s skull. His head bounced off the back of the truck. Again, the hammer struck him, pinning him to the seat. Andy tucked his chin into his chest, but the hammer struck again. And again. Clara screamed, but her voice abruptly muffled. Andy lay on his side, trying to curl his legs above him, squirming in his restraints.


    ¡°Stop that!¡± someone yelled. ¡°He¡¯s chosen, don¡¯t break him.¡±


    ¡°He kicked me in the nuts.¡±


    ¡°Control yourself.¡±


    Andy¡¯s head swam with all the different voices. He breathed into his bag, expecting another blow at any second. ¡°Where are we?¡±


    There was no response, so Andy sat up and repeated the question.


    ¡°No talking,¡± someone said, softer this time.


    ¡°Fuck you. Where am I?¡±


    ¡°Gag him,¡± the gruff voice said. ¡°I¡¯m not listening to this shite the whole way there.¡±


    Andy flinched at invisible hands, lifting his head to peek through the slit of light beneath his nose. He could see their feet surrounding him in the dim light. Hands grasped his arms, one under his neck. Andy squirmed, but it was useless. There was a rasp of gaffer tape, then someone wrapped the bag over his mouth. For a moment, he sat still, unable to breath, until they tore the bag over his nose, creating a small gap from which he could see out. Andy snorted in the musty air, the torn bag tickling his nose.


    There were seven men in the back of the truck, sitting on benches, or standing clutching chains which dangled from the roof. They were all armed with military grade weaponry¨Cassault rifles, shotguns, grenades and the like. There were firing slits in the walls, reinforced with metal sheets and sliding latches. A rope canvas covered the roof, suspending large rucksacks, bulging with supplies. A tool rack clung to the double doors at one end, as well as a medical kit, a coil of thick rope, and a stack of books locked into a wire-mesh cabinet. There was a hatch on the roof with a retractable ladder¨Cone escape option, if the chance came¨Cbut Andy had a feeling it wouldn¡¯t.


    Andy checked his belt and pockets as best he could in cuffs, but he had been stripped of weapons. His holster was empty. Had Julie really abandoned him? Surely, he was mistaken. Andy tried to sense her, but their Fatal Attraction was dim. Either she was far away, or she was ignoring his beckon.


    Andy glanced at Clara. She was staring at him. Andy murmured against his gag, trying to reassure her, or stick his thumb up or wink, but it was impossible to communicate anything. Sighing, he sat back on the bench, rocking steadily against the truck¡¯s suspension. Each jolt in the road kneaded his injuries, rubbing against his countless cuts, sustained by the shadow demon. But he was almost too tired to care. His wounds, once sharp, grew numb¡­


    Andy hadn''t noticed falling asleep until the truck¡¯s engine stopped. He blinked awake, but the bag still obscured his vision. By his estimates, he¡¯d been out for a few hours. The sound of heavy boots clanged against the metal floor as a group of men disembarked. Andy remained still, pretending to be asleep, listening to their conversations. It dawned on him then just how bad their situation was. There was no fight to be had. They¡¯d been captured, tied up, disarmed. He was so tired he could barely keep awake, even when he needed to be alert. Bloodloss. That, and sheer exertion. Andy sighed and tried to speak, then remembered the gag.


    ¡°Are you there?¡± Andy murmured, imagining the presence of his AI implant inside his skull.


    Present, the voice returned.


    ¡°Any words of wisdom?¡± His words were muffled by the gag, but so long as he spoke them out loud, it seemed his AI was able to listen.


    Negative.


    ¡°Any suggestions?¡±


    Negotiation is recommended. Evidence indicates that the man observed levitating may be an Augmented individual, possessing the Telekinesis archetype, developed during the wave two of Bulwark Project serum.


    ¡°Okay, what are his powers?¡±


    My information is based on the development schematics of wave two Augmentation serums, however, these schematics only cover initial design, they cannot accurately predict the development of the Telekinesis archetype¡¯s progression. Please restore the Bulwark Master Network and-


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Andy grunted. ¡°What can you tell me now?¡±


    The Telekinesis archetype was developed during the second wave of Augmentation serums designed to combat the variety and severity of apocalypses in the months preceding the cataclysm, focussing on combative capabilities without a reliance on modern technology or access to energy sources. This second wave of Augmentations were designed to flexibly adapt to the challenges their implanted soldier¡¯s faced.


    ¡°What abilities?¡± Andy repeated.


    Telekinesis. Control over foreign objects using the materialised focus of one¡¯s mind. The pushing and pulling forces. Predicted avenues of progression are the propulsion of objects to create projectiles, the fineness of precision manipulation from distance, and the elevation of heavy objects, improving or allowing aerial manoeuvrability.


    Andy grumbled and sat upright. ¡°Sounds overpowered.¡±


    The second wave of Augmentation serums were fourteen percent more effective than the first wave at developing an effective countermeasure to the cataclysm.


    ¡°What wave am I?¡±


    Your Augmentation serum was amongst the first to be developed. Archetype: Gunslinger. Wave one.


    OG, Andy thought cynically. Or maybe not. I¡¯m a Vampire Gunslinger now, that¡¯s got to be even better. Dare he say it¡­ Wave Four?


    With nothing to do but wait, Andy listened as the men embarked and the engine started again. They drove for hours, the soldiers sharing scant conversations, but Andy didn¡¯t have the energy to listen in for what good it would do. Finally, the truck rolled to a stop and he was dragged out, pushed and shoved in seemingly random directions. His legs shook beneath him, made wobblier by his lack of vision. He tripped, but thick hands caught him under the arms, dragging him on like a piece of meat. Andy stiffened and squirmed, but could do no more. He listened to the footsteps around him as their number diminished from perhaps dozens, to just three, echoing off the interior of some building. There was a strange metallic scent in the air, oddly clean, mixed with a breeze of fresh air.


    Andy was made to duck down, then stand still. Somebody cut the tape over his mouth and wrenched the bag over his head. Andy snarled, eyes fixing on his captor¡¯s neck, but before he could pounce, others shoved him to the ground and closed a cage over the small doorway. Andy lied on his back, staring at the ceiling, listening to footsteps depart. His cell was a small room, seemingly coated in a silvery sheen. There was no intact furniture, just bare metal walls and a cold, gritty floor, littered with an odd, metallic debris. Rolling onto his front, Andy curled into a ball then sat upright. He crawled on his knees over to the doorway and pressed his face into the steel bars. Outside was a small corridor, wide enough for just about two people to fit down. The same metal rubble had been swept aside, forming banks in the bottom corners of the floor. Soft moonlight glinted in the walls, shining from somewhere unseen.


    Andy panted as he wilted. The cage bars dug into his cheeks, but he didn¡¯t have the strength to move. ¡°Clara. Sis, are you there?¡±


    Silence.

 Chapter 66 - Captivity

    Andy grimaced as his leather jacket peeled off his wounds, which had bled and dried against the fabric. He remained still against the hard floor, careful not to reopen the worst of the lacerations. Andy hadn¡¯t begrudged being stabbed, slashed and scratched in the heat of combat, with adrenaline flowing and rage taking precedence over his mind. However, there was no passion to be had from germinating in his wounds in a dark cell. The pain wasn¡¯t so much a challenge to bear so that he could dig his teeth in harder, but a nuisance¨Ca faceless recurring inconvenience.


    Putting his back to the cage door and observing his prison, Andy scanned the debris for any tools or potential weapons. The metal frame of a miniature table and chair stood bare against one wall. It reminded Andy of a ruin that had been set on fire¨Call the plastic and wood materials burned until only non-flammable objects remained, however there were discrepancies: the walls were not smoke-stained, contrary to that, they glimmered as though covered in a polished metal coating. Andy could tell by the raised door frame that the floor had sunk a couple inches since its construction. He sat on top of a shard of cracked metal, beneath it was a layer of dirt. Andy felt the edge of the shard, disappointed to find it smooth to touch. He had hoped it might make for a useful stabbing weapon.


    Hours passed. Andy listened to the sounds outside his prison¨Cmen¡¯s voices, talking in thick accents, further confused by the acoustics of the strange metal walls. Then the noises died down. His stomach growled and his lips were dry. Andy shifted in his restraints, no matter what position he rested in, after a few minutes, it became unbearable. He rested easiest lying down on his side facing the doorway, anticipating someone to come. After a time, boredom succeeded, and he hoped they would.


    With the light of morning came the sounds of activity. Somewhere outside his prison, a motorbike¡¯s engine revved. Voices entered the chamber ahead of footsteps, carrying a conversations towards his cell. They spoke in a language Andy did not understand. Sitting upright, he put his back to the wall and blinked the grit from his eyes. He wasn¡¯t inside a normal brick prison, the walls sold sheet metal, bolted in place. Everything was smooth and golden, the walls, the table frame, the rubble floor, only the dirt underneath and the steel bars over the narrow doorway had some natural colour to them. Andy inspected his cage. The golden frame along the top half was jagged and scratched, as though someone had sawed through the wall to expand the doorway.


    As he looked, a familiar face appeared in the doorway¨Cthe man who had knocked Andy unconscious the day before¨Cthe pool shark and gang leader. He wore a denim jacket and denim jeans, arms folded across his chest, chin raised aloft. Andy struggled to his knees not to be looked down on, but couldn¡¯t make it to his feet.


    A young boy opened the cell door and stepped inside. He had a strange, ungainly way of moving, as though he was being operated by marionette strings, the knots of which were tied out of sight beneath a woollen jumper with white fur cuffs and collar. He carried a fold-up chair in both arms, which he set down near the cell¡¯s exit, placing atop it a bottle of water and a tupperware of steaming fish.


    ¡°You must be very thirsty.¡± The boy¡¯s accent was smooth, each word uttered with a precise amount of emphasis. ¡°I have brought you a drink, and a fresh catch, fried. Can you smell it?¡±


    Andy certainly could. The fish invaded his senses, kicking his stomach into turmoil, causing his mouth to drip with saliva. He swallowed, leaning over to address the man in the doorway¨Chis nemesis. ¡°Where¡¯s my sister?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need for you to be our prisoner,¡± the boy answered, intercepting his gaze. ¡°If you agree not to be violent, I¡¯ll take off your cuffs now, and you can eat.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯ve hurt her, you better keep these things on, kid.¡± Andy pressed his back against the wall and slid upright, standing above the child. He wore black gloves, outdoorsy trousers, boots and a black beanie hat. Only the skin of his face was visible, pale with faded blue eyes¨Cthe eyes of a junkie, with a thousand-mile stare.


    ¡°Your partner is unharmed,¡± the boy said. ¡°Turn around, I¡¯ll take those off.¡±


    ¡°Where is she?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s safe.¡±


    Andy opened his mouth to speak, but the boy interrupted. ¡°I¡¯m not going to tell you that.¡±


    And glared at him, considering the ways to kill him. There were many. A swift kick to the head would do it. But the boy wasn¡¯t a threat, he was just a messenger. Time and again, Andy¡¯s eyes fell on the banquet of fish and water, perched atop the fold-out chair. He was starving by no exaggeration. Grimacing, Andy swallowed his pride and turned his back to his captors. Moments later, his restraints slackened, and he freed his hands.


    The impulse to kill swept over him in a dizzying wave. The kid must have sensed it, because when Andy spun back around, he had skipped over to the cell¡¯s doorway, putting the succulent meal between him and Andy. Behind him, Double Denim watched on, silent like a sentry. Andy snatched up the fish, scoffing it where he stood, then necked the water. His stomach purred gratefully, although the water didn¡¯t quite hit the spot. ¡°Got anything stronger?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I might.¡±


    Andy felt the scrutiny of the boy¡¯s milky eyes, observing his every move. ¡°Where¡¯s Julie?¡±


    ¡°I told you, your companion-¡±


    ¡°No, my revolver.¡±


    ¡°Your revolver has a name? Of course, Gunslinger archetype, and¡­¡± the boy withdrew a wrist terminal from his jumper¡¯s stomach pouch, similar to the one which Clara carried. In fact, it might well be hers. ¡°This affinity delineation of yours... Marvellous. Not the first time I¡¯ve seen it, but fascinating nonetheless.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    A warm sensation hummed in Andy¡¯s gut. He felt the life returning to his limbs, stiff muscles flexing and relaxing, blood pumping regularly. But he was not sated. The boy¡¯s neck was hidden behind a high collar. If Andy yanked his chin back, he could claw open the top button and tear open his arteries. He wouldn¡¯t feel bad about that, the kid wasn¡¯t innocent, only, Double Denim might stop Andy before he got the chance. The man had magical powers¨Ctelekinesis.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Andy said, restraining the impulse to attack.


    ¡°To chat,¡± the kid said. ¡°To see how you¡¯re doing.¡±


    Andy held his arms out. His ribs creaked, one of them felt broken. His shirt peeled away from the dry blood of his stomach, tugging at the wounds there where the shadow demon had pierced him. ¡°Fantastic. Anything else?¡±


    ¡°You are a powerful man, Andy,¡± the boy went on, taking a tentative step inside his cell. Behind him, the bars hung open on their hinges. ¡°You understand the laws of this new world. No¡­ understand isn¡¯t the correct word. You embody them. In a way, you are the beauty we aspire to be.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Andy said. ¡°Bit weird that you¡¯re a kid and all, but I¡¯ll accept the compliment. Can I leave now?¡±


    The boy smiled. ¡°Listen Andy, you¡¯re not taking me seriously. I may appear as a child, but all is not as it seems. Please, converse with me. Speak your mind, but listen to what I have to say.¡±


    ¡°You got any more fish?¡±


    The boy looked back towards Double Denim, who relayed the request to someone else down the corridor, out of sight. Andy wondered how many more were out there? ¡°And booze,¡± he added to the order.


    ¡°Booze, meat, servants, guns.¡± The boy strode forward, opening his arms, palms up, as though he was holding the objects. ¡°Power and territory. Women.¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Men?¡±


    ¡°Just booze,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°You could have it all,¡± the boy continued, taking on a theatrical tone. ¡°Anything you want. You shouldn¡¯t be a mercenary, not with the power you possess. You should be a leader. A saint, or a tyrant. Your choice.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to be chained to your partner¡¯s fear. She is hesitant to join us, even though she knows it is the right decision. Take that burden from her, make the right decision for the both of you. Join our ranks. Study with us, the ways of the New Patricians. We are the law, and the purity, and the power of this new world.¡±


    ¡°Cool,¡± Andy said. ¡°Good for you.¡±


    Behind the cell¡¯s bars, Double Denim grumbled, but the boy¡¯s expression remained unflinching. ¡°We are coming to this little patch of your world. You cannot oppose us. Alister and his group are just the vanguard. Our strength is many times that which you¡¯ve witnessed, and I''m offering you to be a part of it.¡±


    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll join. Let me see my sister and we¡¯ll hash out the details.¡±


    The boy regarded him, then all at once, his neutral expression snapped, delving into a sneer. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re being genuine with me. Are you stupid? Is that it?¡±


    ¡°Genuine question?¡±


    ¡°Belligerent. You are not the most powerful saint amongst us, far from it. You are not the most powerful Augmentus in this room.¡± The boy chuckled. ¡°It would be a shame to bleed your serum on this prison floor. A tragic waste.¡±


    ¡°What, you?¡± Andy said. ¡°You¡¯re magical too?¡±


    ¡°Magical? No, I¡¯m Augmented, imbecile. My purpose is to elevate mankind.¡±


    ¡°Sick one. Let me see my sister, she calls the shots.¡±


    The boy paused, puzzled. He shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re a fool.¡±


    ¡°Me, I¡¯m a fool?¡± Andy pointed at the boy¡¯s chest. ¡°You¡¯ve got something on your jumper.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Food, there.¡± Andy stood closer, pointing beneath the boy¡¯s chin. The kid looked down without thinking, it was the oldest trick in the book. Andy flicked him in the nose then punched him in the face. Leaping over the kid¡¯s sprawling body, Andy darted for the exit.


    ¡°Stay.¡± The command struck Andy like a wall. Double Denim held his hand outstretched, eyes bulging with fury. Andy¡¯s heartbeat thumbled. It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dunked on his head, staggering his rush of adrenaline. Before he could react, Double Denim dipped into a low stance and hooked Andy in the ribs¨Chis broken ribs. The force flung him back with a sickening crunch. Andy gritted his teeth not to scream in agony. White splotches danced across his vision. He hissed, the breath like fire in his chest.


    When he looked up, the cell door was closed and the boy was standing outside, clutching his broken nose. ¡°When you¡¯re willing to talk, I¡¯ll tell you about your sister,¡± he said. ¡°Until then.¡±


    They departed. Andy shivered, sensing the residue of Double Denim¡¯s command inside his veins like a toxic hangover. It hadn¡¯t felt like intimidation, the command had been something else. Probably one of his special Augmented abilities. As soon as the spell lifted, he knelt and sniffed the air, sensing the spot of blood that had spurted from the boy¡¯s nose spattering the ground. Lowering his head, he licked the blood tentatively. It tingled his tongue with a warmth much like the nettle tea Clara often made for them on the road. His stomach rumbled as he lapped up what blood he could. Salivating, Andy swallowed, and the life force trickled down his throat. Immediately, he felt a fraction of his strength return. His senses sharpened. His vampire mutation was working. He was no longer on the retreat. He was in recovery.


    Crawling across the cell, Andy gripped the bars, testing their strength. They were bolted onto the metal walls by three thick hinges, locked in place by a padlock. If Julie were here¡­ But no, he was alone, and sober, with only his thoughts to keep him company.


    Sitting on the ground away from the light of the corridor, Andy waited patiently, conserving his strength and building his resolve. He had to believe that Clara was okay. If these paediatricians¨Cor whatever they were called¨Cweren¡¯t willing to kill Andy after he¡¯d smacked one of their kids in the face, then it was likely she was alive too. They wanted her to join them, or something, so they wouldn¡¯t have killed her yet. She was smarter than that. She¡¯d figure out a way to get to him. Then they¡¯d escape together, just like they always did.


    Andy imagined ripping the Double Denime¡¯s throat out, tasting his blood, letting it flow down his chin and neck, the squirt of his heartbeat pumping down his gulping throat. It excited him, energised him. Andy focussed on the pleasure, grinding his jaw, sharpening his canines. Over the last week, his nails had grown into claws, his senses had sharpened. Beneath his exhaustive malaise, he felt stronger, quicker, he only needed to rest and heal. Although he missed her presence, he didn¡¯t need Julie anymore. He was becoming something else, a demon, or whatever. There was a tonic in his blood which desired the taste of death. His captors thought that he was defeated, weakened and unarmed. He¡¯d play the role, skulk in the shadows until the time was right, and Clara gave him the signal. Then he¡¯d unchain the predator desire.

 Chapter 67 - Futility

    Clara sat alone in her cell: an old shipping container with a mattress on the floor and a bucket by the door, which after holding it in for hours, she had begrudgingly used. She ran through the events of the past few weeks in her head over and over, trying to make sense of her situation. Clearly, the New Patricians wanted her and Andy alive, but why? She remembered her conversation with Alister a few days ago and his invitation to join their nation. Had he taken her refusal personally? Was he seeking revenge, or else to subjugate her? What power did he hold within their faction? Was he their leader?


    She had seen two groups of Patricians stationed in Milltown recently, two separate battlewagons; presumably that meant two Augmented individuals, each leading their own gang. Was Alister acting on his own, or on someone else¡¯s orders? The Patricians must have been tracking them while they travelled to the vault to set up such a timely and effective ambush. Right now, they might be trying to open the vault doors to scavenge inside. Doing so would release the shadow demon and kill anyone excavating the vault, but that wasn¡¯t her problem anymore. If they ignored the message she had sprayed on the doors, then good luck to them.


    Clara took a deep, shaky breath. Her wrist ached where she had rubbed her small silver watch too hard. She focussed on the pain, and the cold metal band, trying to ground herself, trying not to panic. But in the dark, her mind inevitably wandered. Perhaps the New Patricians had followed Gabriel when he came to rescue them? Maybe they were working with Gabriel. Clara shook her head. It was good to consider every possibility at least once, but she had to trust her gut on some things, or else she¡¯d be completely lost, and her gut told her that Gabriel was just as much caught up in this as she was. Besides, as far as she knew, he and the vault dwellers were left behind when Alister kidnapped them.


    The fight had been brief. Clara had found Andy unconscious, Alister looming above him with an ominous aura. She had blasted him out the air with a Teslatic Burst, and meant to do more, when his subordinates fired a warning shot and held her at gunpoint. Alister had risen to his feet angry, shocked, perhaps a little afraid of her. He had not stepped to meet her challenge, nor had his subordinates rushed her. However, held at gunpoint, her advantage quickly ebbed. She had surrendered quickly in order to save face. Accepting their handcuffs, Clara had kept her eyes on Alister, who remained at a distance, then retired to the front of the battlewagon. Clara and Andy had been hauled in the back. Could she have done more? She couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that she had let Andy down.


    Waiting on the cold, uneven floor, Clara¡¯s consciousness drifted as the hours blurred. Her train of thought tangled and tied knots on itself driving inexorably towards some mirage of clarity. Her mind absently tugged at the tracks, testing the knots for weakness, probing in odd places¡­ They had travelled for hours in the back of the battlewagon, maybe eight to ten in total. Where could that place them on a map, what was the radius? What did she know about the apocalypse zones within that circle? She tried recalling them all, but much about the local territory which was still unknown to her records.


    A memory of violence flashed in her mind. Dark blades, cold and murderous. Clara shivered and cast a faint yellow light in her fist to ward off the dark. She wasn¡¯t there anymore. It was over, though her wounds were still fresh. They¡¯d escaped, only to have fallen into another trap. What had happened to the vault dwellers on the surface? What of the two kids she had left hiding in the jeep? And Gabriel? She hoped he was safe; being captured by the New Patricians would be a sorry reward for having come to their aid in the vault. A paranoid thought occurred to her. Perhaps Gabriel was working for them? Perhaps he had been in contact¨Cperhaps he was a Patrician himself. Had there been signs in his vault? Clara replayed their conversations in her mind, but couldn¡¯t validate her suspicions. Yet a sense of uneasiness remained.


    There had to be an explanation for things. How had it gotten so bad so quickly? Did all of this have anything to do with James, the cartographer in Milltown? He hated the New Patricians, and had said as much outright. Could she be in Milltown now? It was just outside the radius she¡¯d imagined they had travelled, but it wasn¡¯t an impossibility.


    Did this have something to do with Old Blue Eyes? Could there have been a bounty on their heads, which Alister was collecting on? No, that didn¡¯t make sense. Snippets of her conversation with Alister in Miltown repeated in her mind, pressing through the milieu. His philosophy followed that Augmented people were superior¨Che wouldn¡¯t hand her and Andy over to a sapien for reward.


    Alister had other plans for them. For her. A look in his lingering topaz eyes stuck in her mind, the forwardness of his stare, and the menace behind it. Desire.


    As Clara drifted into half-consciousness, she forgot that she was Augmented at all, thinking of herself only as a woman, one who might be forced to bear a child.


    Clara had developed a thick skin to unwanted admiration. Some couldn''t help but stare, others indulged and vocalised their fantasies, while a few used their sexual desire like a dagger of intimidation. She had received it all, spoken to like unconquered meat, or a diminutive fae. People rarely expected a young woman like her to fight back, but Clara didn¡¯t hesitate towards aggression. Her temper was a weapon which she liked to keep concealed until it was absolutely necessary, more the surprise and advantage.


    But she never displayed weakness. Never gave an inch. Never let the wrongness of it settle in, until she was safe in the company of Andy, and she could vent her fear and frustration without endangering their lives or affecting their careers. There was an animal law to all of this: You don¡¯t turn your back on a snarling dog, and you don¡¯t shrink and submit before a man¡¯s carnal appetite, not unless you want to get hurt.


    Yet, alone in her cell, there was no affront to maintain, no mask to wear, no Andy to protect her, and no hope that she could protect herself. Clara was cold, and tired, and defenceless, and the memory of Alister¡¯s desire beheld her from the corners of her vision, goading her to return the attention, to yield to him. Her mind recoiled. Her breathing quickened, a sharp rush of blood stabbed her heart.


    Clara spasmed awake, kicking out and jumping to her feet. Energy swelled in her fists as she searched for an attacker. She panted, vision swimming as a rush of blood settled in her head, and her heartbeat steadied. She was not defenceless, even while alone, not anymore. But old trauma died hard.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The shipping container was empty. Pale sunlight sifted through breathing holes, drilled into one wall. Clara pushed her face to the holes and peered out. Golden light dazzled her, reflecting the morning sun''s rays, making it difficult to identify shapes or depth to her surroundings. She sat back down, hugging her knees to her chest, replaying events in her mind, running calculations. The New Patricians had taken her weapons and wrist terminal, but she could still talk to her AI implant, for what good it did. For over an hour, she asked it questions, changing how she worded things in the hopes it could give her a useful response.


    ¡°How could the Patricians have followed us to the vault?¡±


    Possible surveillance devices might include aerial observation or tracking devices.


    ¡°Do you analyse any data regarding their facial expressions? Tone of voice? I need to figure out their intentions before they come back. I need to stay one step ahead. On the truck. Were you watching? You can see what I can see, right?¡±


    I am able to access your visual cortex, as well as other sensory data that aids in the development of your Augmentation¡¯s abilities.


    ¡°Okay, but, anything else? Can you work out a puzzle? Can you figure out a way to escape?¡±


    Please clarify.


    ¡°Can you suggest how to open these container doors?¡±


    Your Current Control ability under the Teslatic delineation may be used to operate electrical equipment, such as the control panel of a door.


    ¡°Right, but this door isn¡¯t electronic.¡±


    There was no response, afterall, it wasn¡¯t a question. The quietness returned, disturbed by the rev of a motorbike engine. Clara wrestled with her thoughts, but the more she struggled, the more her worries surmounted. Where was Andy? Why had the Patricians separated them? Was Andy safe? Was he being amenable? She hoped that he wouldn¡¯t give them an excuse to hurt him.


    The sound of footsteps approached her cell doors. Clara leapt upright, the metallic tang of her Augmentation¡¯s combat hormones on her tongue. She took comfort in the electrical energy vibrating through her body. If that was Alister, come to claim her, she¡¯d kill him, or die trying. Andy would understand. He¡¯d forgive her.


    The doors slid open smoothly. In the light of day stood a boy, his eye bruised and swollen. He appraised her silently, emotionlessly. Like an ember pressed by the cold wind, she straightened her spine, the yellow glow of her body growing with defiance.


    ¡°An odd power, that,¡± the boy said, nodding at her hands.


    Clara looked past him, through the crack in the door to the outside world. The sun shone brightly, and the sound of gulls swept over the wind.


    Stepping away from the container¡¯s doorway, the boy stretched his hand out, palm up. He moved stiffly, as if each minute action was considered purposefully. His nose was black and swollen¨Cseemingly recently broken¨Cand blood splattered his collar, yet he did not seem in pain. ¡°Would you like to go for a walk?¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m your guide and company for this morning.¡±


    Clara stepped slowly towards the container¡¯s exit, ready for an ambush. Why had they sent a child? Was this a mistake? Was she being set free by a good samaritan? The stranger waited for her, unflinching like a mannequin. Outside, fresh air swept through her lungs, carrying with it a wet metallic tang. Despite the overcast sky, the world around her shone. Clara squinted as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. She suddenly felt vulnerable, caught off guard; if she were attacked now¡­ But no, if they wanted her dead, they could have shot her inside the cargo container. Taking a deep, cooling breath, Clara turned on her captor. ¡°Where¡¯s my brother?¡±


    ¡°Your brother,¡± he said, setting off at a leisurely pace down a rubble strewn path towards a lake. ¡°We¡¯ll get to that. First of all, you must be thirsty.¡±


    There were no adults nearby. Clara could make a run for it, but she¡¯d have to locate Andy first. The boy handed her a bottle of water, and she felt the stiffness of his fingers through his leather gloves. She gulped half of the bottle down, then pocketed the rest¨Cbetter to save some, just in case. The path he led her down was flanked by gleaming piles of golden rocks. The ground itself was a layer of golden slabs, cemented together by fuzzy streams of moss, reds, greens and purples, which formed a network through the cracks, cutting the path to pieces like shattered ice.


    Ahead, the lake¡¯s surface shimmered and sparkled brighter than seemed natural. Clara squinted, perhaps her eyes were still adjusting to the light of day after being locked inside the container. Rubbing them, she searched beyond the river. A golden hue danced upon a city¡¯s ruin. Behind the buildings, forests rose atop large hills like a dark shadow by contrast to the city¡¯s gleam. To her right, the lake ran into a vast, hilly plane, and beyond the river, triumphed snow-capped mountains. Clara filled her lungs with the refreshing air, and felt connected to those snowy peaks, as though a residual part of them had travelled the distance to connect with her and fuel her.


    ¡°Where am I?¡± she asked.


    ¡°The Golden City. Our southernmost headquarters.¡±


    ¡°Why have you brought me here?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t bring you,¡± the boy said, pointing towards two chairs, a small fold-out table and a parasol placed before a short wall against the river. ¡°Please, take a seat. There¡¯s food at the table. I will answer your questions.¡±


    Clara hesitated. Kindness always came at a cost. She scanned her surroundings. Down the lake¡¯s bank about fifty metres, a golden dock harboured more than a dozen boats. She could see people working there, obscured by the shimmering light. A single small ship floated away from the bunch, it sails lowered to catch the wind. She heard the lake¡¯s soft waves wash against the bankside¡¯s golden walls. A tiny bird chirped as it scribbled through the sky, catching flies.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Alister?¡± she asked.


    ¡°By the dock house, probably. Why?¡±


    Clara didn¡¯t answer. She followed her captor¡¯s gaze towards a large metal building with a semi-domed roof. It was the only structure around that wasn¡¯t in a heap, although its walls were cracked and concave, held together by tarnished metal scaffolding.


    ¡°And where is my brother?¡±


    ¡°He decided not to join us.¡± The boy took a seat, motioning for Clara to sit beside him. ¡°My name is Vincent. I understand yours is Clara. Do you have a second name?¡±


    Clara bit her lip. She hadn¡¯t spoken it since the cataclysm. ¡°No. Where is Andy?¡±


    ¡°In a cell. He is a rather unruly sort.¡±


    ¡°He do that?¡± Clara nodded at the boy¡¯s broken nose.


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    Clara paused¨CAndy didn¡¯t normally hurt children¨Cbut she didn¡¯t let her confusion show.


    ¡°I am sorry for the rough nature of your escort,¡± VIncent went on. ¡°Alister tells me that things got a little out of hand.¡±


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Clara said bluntly.


    ¡°Just to talk, and get some answers.¡±

 Chapter 68 - Bloodbound

    Clara gazed out at the lake, willing to appear placid, while secretly, she harboured her strength, letting the electrical tingling of her Augmentation¡¯s hormones drip into her bloodstream. ¡°Are we free to leave?¡±


    ¡°Frankly, no.¡± Vincent opened a box beneath his chair and placed a bottle of wine on the table along with two bulb glasses. ¡°We have an unlimited supply of this stuff where I come from. Do you like wine?¡±


    Clara raised an eyebrow at the child.


    ¡°I never did. Too acidic. But, as it transpires, that¡¯s just because I could only afford the cheap stuff.¡± Turning the bottle over, he read the label aloud. ¡°Chateau Beychevelle, 1999, Grand Cru Classe St Julien.¡± He scowled. ¡°Not sure I¡¯m pronouncing that correctly, but it won¡¯t change the flavour.¡± He poured two glasses, placed hers beside a little tupperware of fried fish, then sipped from his.


    ¡°Sure that¡¯s good for you?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re not free to leave, because the world cannot do without people like you. The Augmentus. The prime species. I won¡¯t see you go to waste. You might not understand, but you will thank me one day.¡± Vincent spoke slowly, the tone of his voice controlled, following the grooves of musical pitch, but absent of melody. Atonal, except for subtle changes used to emphasise or diminish certain words. Although his proclamation was sinister, there was no threat in his voice, no anger, no lust. Clara was wary to relax, but for the moment, she did not feel in danger. Vincent was just a kid after all.


    ¡°Let me tell you about the New Patricians,¡± he continued. ¡°We follow a doctrine written by the supremacy, but we are free to do what we want within its code. We seek strength, rule of order, and above all, a restoration in line with the laws of nature. Might proves right. Our empire is huge, and growing. Tell me, how far have you travelled?¡±


    ¡°Very far,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°From the north? South? Judging by your skin colour, I would say north.¡±


    Clara nodded. ¡°England.¡±


    ¡°So, you lived in the UK before the cataclysm?¡±


    Clara nodded.


    ¡°Tragic, what happened to that island. You must have been quick to make it out alive.¡±


    Clara was silent. Those first few days of the cataclysm were a blur. She had been so small, swept away in the chaos, gripping Andy¡¯s arm like a thread of string dangling over a crushing pit. She barely remembered any of it, but the panic had soaked into her skin and stained her forever.


    ¡°You¡¯ve travelled a long way. What for?¡±


    ¡°Work. A life. Same as anyone else, a safer place. I¡¯m sorry, you seem very grown up for your age, but is there an adult I can talk to? I¡¯m happy to negotiate, just as long as Andy is alive.¡±


    ¡°For now, you will talk to me.¡± There was a directness to Vincent¡¯s voice which confused his age. If Clara looked across the lake, she could almost imagine she was speaking to an adult woman, or a man whose voice was high pitched. But sat beside her was a child maybe twelve years old¨Cfifteen at a push, if he were underdeveloped.


    ¡°And all the time that you travelled,¡± Vincent continued. ¡°It was with Andrew, am I correct?¡±


    Clara nodded. An unfamiliar feeling blossomed in her chest. It was as though his questions were massaging an overlooked tension inside her body. The conversation thickened her breath. It was pleasant, but she was wary to indulge. Whatever manipulation Vincent was working, despite her best efforts, it was having an effect. She felt more willing to speak and share, categorise her memories and explain her life. Clara clenched her jaw shut to prevent it chattering.


    ¡°He is violent. Does that bother you?¡±


    ¡°Everyone is violent,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Not like him. Not that willing, not that¡­ good at it. Why do you follow him?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t follow him. We¡¯re partners.¡±


    ¡°Not siblings?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re siblings.¡±


    Vincent fished inside his jumper pocket and withdrew a terminal, handing her it. ¡°I have here your DNA records from when you both calibrated at Alister¡¯s master console one week ago. It appears that the Augmentation you possess is an entirely new generation, developed very recently. I have to admit, it¡¯s extraordinary. You¡¯re extraordinary.¡±


    The terminal displayed their Augmentation¡¯s readings, with a list of delineations and powers, and their personal genetic information. Clara recognised it all. They had a full reading of her abilities and Andy¡¯s but were missing details on Andy¡¯s vampiric mutation. The Augmentation Master Console mustn¡¯t be programmed to identify mutations. That, at least, they had managed to keep a secret. It might prove an advantage.


    ¡°Wave three Augmentation,¡± Vincent said. ¡°Are you aware of the implications?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Clara said, uncertain, but unwilling to admit it.


    ¡°Read the manufacturer¡¯s notes. They were written by a man named Linton and stored in the artificial intelligence memory. It seems that your Augmentation serum was created in quite an unconventional way. It was the first serum to be manufactured in seven years, and not a replicate archetype, but an entirely unique strain, just as potent as those developed by the Bulwark Project themselves. There are many amongst our ranks who possess duplicate, identical archetypes, there is no one else quite like you, Clara.¡±


    Clara squinted, flicking through the interface trying to find the entry.


    ¡°How does that make you feel?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Clara said, unwilling to entertain the thought, afraid of giving her emotions or thoughts away.


    ¡°Does that name mean anything to you? In the notes there,¡± Vincent¡¯s hand shot out, and he tapped the terminal. ¡°Linton?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Clara said, though her voice was uncertain.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe that,¡± Vincent said, and before she could react, he took the console out of her hands and placed it back in his pocket. Clara had the urge to snatch it back off him and fling it into the lake. Anxiety washed over her. She was constantly on the back foot with Vincent, answering his questions, being led around by his narrative. However weird, he was just a child¨Cshe had to take the initiative.


    ¡°You¡¯re Augmented too then?¡± she asked.


    Vincent nodded. ¡°All officers of the New Patricians are.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you¡¯re an officer?¡± Clara snorted.


    ¡°A commander.¡±


    ¡°Really? What are your powers?¡±


    Vincent''s mouth sharpened to a grin. ¡°My archetype?¡±


    Clara nodded. ¡°You have information on us. It¡¯d be rude not to share. Didn¡¯t your mother teach you anything?¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°That¡¯s valuable information, the sort I would be happy to indulge, should you join our ranks.¡±


    ¡°Give me a clue,¡± Clara said.


    Vincent looked away for a moment, preparing his statement. ¡°I have been Augmented for a very long time, and I have spent that time developing my strengths. You, it seems, have been Augmented for only two weeks?¡±


    ¡°About that.¡±


    ¡°And your brother, six years?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, about that.¡±


    ¡°Answer me this. How has he survived so long, and yet developed so little in that time? As far as we can predict, less than one percent of soldiers injected with wave one Augmentation Serum have survived to this day. They were employed on the front lines during cataclysm. Mortality rates were high. Those who survived are much further along in their development, having had years to hone their abilities. But your brother¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you asking me why he¡¯s so lazy?¡±


    ¡°Lazy? Unmotivated? Undirected?¡± Vincent raised an eyebrow. ¡°We can change that. We can offer you wealth, a unit of sapes to command, a chance to become more powerful. What exactly about this deal does not work for you?¡±


    ¡°Taking orders,¡± she said quickly, although that was only half of it. ¡°Andy won¡¯t do it.¡±


    ¡°But he will take orders from you, yes?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± Clara said. ¡°We¡¯re a team.¡±


    ¡°Siblings?¡±


    Clara swallowed. The silence that stretched weighed on her. ¡°Yeah, why?¡±


    ¡°We have both of your DNA records, Clara. You cannot hide anything from us. The chromosomes don¡¯t match. You¡¯re not blood related.¡± Vincent''s eyes narrowed his one unswollen eye. ¡°But you knew that already, didn''t you?¡±


    Clara froze. It was a fact which she had tucked away, kept even from herself, compartmentalised with all the other inconvenient truths of their world. Andy was not her brother, not genetically speaking. She¡¯d never had a brother. Two sisters, actually, older than her, whom she barely remembered. A short time after the Cataclysm occurred, the city she had grown up in collapsed.Andy had chosen her out of a stampeding crowd. She had been ten years old, defenceless, separated from her family, shocked and awed by the magnitude of death and destruction. Andy had saved her life and started calling her Clara, his sister. He was her angel, and he asked for nothing in return, only Clara knew that she must play the role of someone who was gone. As a child, it had felt like a game, the meaning behind it was discarded in her immediacy to survive.


    As the years had gone by and they travelled together, helped one another, bled for one another, the lie became the truth. Clara loved Andy. The child she had been before the cataclysm disappeared long ago, replaced by a distorted image of Andy¡¯s real sister. Her birth name, long unused and dissociated, had sunk beneath dark waters. There were two versions of herself in her mind: the dream version¨Cthe pristine childhood, full of joy and wonder and grandparents, trips to the beach, ice cream and video games and school and cartoons. Then there was the new her, the real her: Clara. Woman. Mercenary.


    Liar.


    Vincent''s innocent face looked up at her. There was no empathy in his eyes, no confusion, no weakness. He wasn¡¯t a child, he was something else. ¡°Should I inform Andrew as well?¡±


    Clara¡¯s heart thudded, but she bit her tongue.


    Vincent leaned forward a fraction, his wine glass balanced in his small hands. ¡°He doesn¡¯t know, does he?¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t believe you. Chromosomes¡­¡± Clara laughed. ¡°Do you think that means anything to him?¡± Anger shot through her, and she rose from her chair. ¡°Do you think that means anything to me? Blood? Parents? Nothing, gone.¡± Clara clenched her fists, blue electricity discharging through her fingers. ¡°How dare you judge me. What the fuck even are you?¡±


    The strange boy surrendered his hands, leaning back in his chair. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to offend.¡±


    ¡°Yes you did. Don¡¯t lie.¡±


    ¡°No, I did not.¡±


    Clara booted the small table, shattering the wine bottle against the cracked golden pavement. ¡°Yes you fucking did. And don¡¯t threaten me either.¡± She jammed her finger into his face, barely containing the energy shooting down her arm.


    ¡°Please,¡± Vincent said, raising one diminutive gloved finger to match hers. Slowly, he pressed her hand away from his face, moving her whole arm with the simple, precise motion, an unforeseen strength beneath that disarming woollen jumper. ¡°I understand your anger but you must control it. If you make yourself an enemy of the New Patricians, Augmented or not, I will end you.¡±


    The calmness in his voice unsteadied her. Clara lowered her hand, meeting his hazy eyes. They were silvery blue, faded, like in the newly dead. Controlling her breath, but remaining standing, Clara measured him. ¡°He won¡¯t believe you.¡±


    ¡°For more than eight years, you followed him.¡± Vincent¡¯s tone of voice had changed. No longer was it flat and precise, like an equation of pitch, now he indulged, lilting and sipping from his wine glass. ¡°You manipulated him into thinking that you were precious to him. His little sister. When in fact you were a stranger. You know as well as I the importance of power, or else you would not have clung to this man like a parasite. That is the worst sin of sapes. You held him back, lied to him, kept him from his true potential¡­ It is only because you are Augmented now that I have allowed you to remain breathing.¡±


    Clara sized him up, then glanced around them, searching for a gunman. There could be someone hidden in the golden rubble, scope trained on her chest, or perhaps Vincent really did fancy his chances against her alone.


    The boy sighed. ¡°Ah, but I am repeating myself. I do not mean to offend, however, your actions are offensive to me.¡± Vincent rose from his chair mechanically. ¡°I am willing to overlook your past, and forgive your transgressions, if you are willing to tread the right path. Correct history alongside us, or else, join the ruin and ash. It was nice to meet your acquaintance, I¡¯m glad to have had the chance. Feel free to roam the city, I know you won¡¯t escape without your brother, and he isn¡¯t going anywhere, not until he submits. But don¡¯t think of yourselves as our prisoners, I want you to be our brethren. Please.¡±


    He reached into his deep pockets and withdrew a small tattered book, placing it on his fold-out chair. The book possessed a hand-painted cover¨Cthe spine was bound by metal clamps and glue. Clara thought she recognised it from somewhere. ¡°This is a gift. Read it, let it guide you, should I be absent. Speak to your¡­ partner. See if you cannot convince him to see reason.¡±


    Vincent strode down the lake¡¯s bank towards the docks, where a fleet of small ships unfurled their sails in the valley wind. Clara remained stranded on the shore. After a few minutes, she took a seat on the small lake wall, dangling her heavy boots over the edge, drowning her vision in the syncopated rhythm of the gold-flecked waves, absorbed in her thoughts and distant, unearthed memories. Shame sat on her shoulders. But it was her weight to bear. She could never tell Andy the truth¨Cadmit that his blood-sister was dead. It would kill him. She was certain.


    A gust of wind ruffled the book¡¯s pages behind her, catching her attention. The contents were handwritten, annotated with diagrams. An envelope swept out from behind the cover onto the pavement. Curious, Clara stepped on it to prevent it fluttering away, then opened it. Printed at the top of the page was a short sequence of letters and numbers.


    Encrypted data unlocked, Ohm informed her.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    Programmer notes available.


    Clara scowled. Her AI had mentioned something during her initial calibration about a note being left behind by Linton which possessed information on her Augmentation¡¯s manufacture. Given the events of the past week, it had slipped her mind to follow it up. ¡°Summarise them.¡±


    The Augmentation serum Electrobiotic Conductor was developed in tandem with a captured apocalyptic vessel, inspired by its molecular matrix to develop a parallel reaction, a kryptonite, if you understand the phrase.


    Clara¡¯s heart thumped. ¡°What apocalypse vessel?¡±


    The associative apocalyptic platform was described by the author as: ¡®A shadowy demon. A construct of pure evil. A blight on the world.¡¯


    ¡°A piece of that thing was in the research centre?¡±


    Affirmative.


    ¡°And it followed us?¡±


    That would only be possible if it managed to escape its containment chamber.


    Clara remembered the shattered vats inside the Bulwark research laboratory, the faulty electronics. Linton had been afraid of the dark, muttering about shadows... Then there was that monster in the basement near Milltown¨Ca fleshy construct, lumbering in the dark. It had travelled with her, clung to her like grime, burrowed inside her like a parasite.


    Clara gripped the golden bankside as she rocked above the waves, sick and dizzy. All of her mental barriers were crumbling¨Cthe walls which she had erected against trauma came crashing down. It felt like her head was split open. Everything was spilling out. The shadow demon hadn¡¯t been waiting outside the vault for them to open the hatch, nor had it come from the surrounding apocalypses. It had been with them since the laboratory¡­ with her, waiting for the perfect time to germinate. It had revealed itself on the outskirts of Milltown in the hilltop university basement, yet she had fled, and put it out of her mind. Just another apocalyptic peculiarity.


    It had stalked her in the dark bowles of Moltengarth¡¯s lava lamp factory, but remained dormant for a lack of prey. She had escorted it to the vault in the pursuit of salvage¨Cin greed, and belligerence. She had provided it a feast. The vault¡­ hundreds of people, safe underground, protected from the horrors of the wasteland. Dead, all of them, torn to pieces, except for the few she had managed to save.


    ¡°Oh god.¡±


    Grief caught up with her, and Clara sobbed. A storm raged in her heart. She had killed them. She had lied to Andy. She had lost her freedom. It was over. They were done. Dark clouds swallowed her mind.

 Chapter 69 - The Golden City

    The sun disappeared. A chill wind swept through Clara, but she would not draw her jacket around herself for comfort. The lakebed shone a murky bronze beneath the overcast sky. Clara surrendered her vision to the lake''s shimmering surface, letting her subconsciousness take over. Her thoughts staggered to reconnect the pieces of her shattered mind, glueing them together in unusual patterns. Unfocussed memories floated to the surface of the waters, appearing for a second before bursting in the daylight like bubbles. She saw flickers of her old life before the cataclysm, some of them real memories, others, dreams she¡¯d imagined to fill the void; Clara had difficulty telling them apart.


    Riddhi¡¯s face appeared in the lake¡¯s ripples, still alive, undefeated by fear. Beside her, floating to the surface, was Linton, full of hatred at her betrayal. Old Blue Eyes surfaced¨Ccalm, wise, now her enemy. The glint of James¡¯ glasses caught in the waves, his face concerned, warning her of the New Patricians. A wave lapped against the bankside, and in the foam, Clara saw the face of the teenager she had shot in Hallow Hill in order to save Robert¡¯s life. Elsewhere in the waters were her grandparents, their kindness blurred almost beyond comprehension. Deep beneath the waters were faces which didn¡¯t have the strength to float to the surface, their lives lost to the depths.


    Clara wanted to join them¨Cto push off the edge and fall beneath the waves. She didn¡¯t deserve her life, she didn¡¯t deserve Andy. But she couldn¡¯t abandon him either.


    Clara shivered and got to her feet. She could spend the rest of her life sitting still, processing the events of her past, feeling all of the fear and pain and loss that she had suffered, and inflicted, draining it out of her like a reservoir, and still never see the bottom of the lake. Better to keep swimming, stay afloat. Wiping away a tear, Clara took a deep breath and headed down the lakeshore towards the settlement.


    A slum of tents rose out of the Golden City¡¯s rubble strewn lakefront like beggar¡¯s rags draped over a cemetery of conquered statues. As Clara approached, the smells of life reached her, diluted by the fresh winds, accompanied by the everpresent aftertaste of metal. There was the perfume of fresh fish, smoke and spices, hand in hand with the muted chatter of fishermen¡¯s families, who gathered in small groups repairing nets and repurposing scavenged tools.


    A small, thin child with dark skin pressed herself into the cover of her mother¡¯s arm as Clara walked by. The adults refused to look Clara in the eyes. Many spoke in languages she didn¡¯t understand, or in exotic accents too thick to decipher. They gathered in ethnic groups, yet all were coated in a sheen of gold, blurring their genetic differences. Smoke wafted from inside a nearby tent. An old woman was tending an oven, built from scrap metal, shining white hot in the flames. A younger woman watched Clara wearily, clutching a chunk of flatbread to her chest, eyes sharp and fearful.


    Clara bowed her head and moved on. They had seen her talk with Vincent, perhaps they assumed she was a New Patrician, which seemingly gave them reason to fear her. Closer to the docks now, Clara could hear mens¡¯ voices echoing tinnily off the golden streets. The tents abruptly stopped before a patch of open ground. Moss carved its way through the shattered golden pavers towards a small district of warehouse buildings¨Cthree which Clara could see¨Cstill standing amongst the rubble, heavily reinforced by metal scaffolding and timber brackets. Men were repairing the scaffolding, working atop the warehouses¡¯ low roof, seemingly without protective harness or lines. Hanging from windows, or flying amongst the scaffolds nearby were banners of the New Patricians: three spears piercing a concave semi-circle.


    The large doors of the frontmost warehouse were absent, exposing a gaping hole into the building¡¯s shell. Clara squinted inside, pulling her cap over her eyes against the dazzling golden light. Clara could see shapes inside, seated or moving about, but couldn¡¯t focus on their faces. Somebody ventured outside holding a cane. He stopped in the doorway to stare back at her¨Ca tall man with bronze skin and sandy hair that seemed to melt away into the golden walls around him: Alister.


    Clara avoided his gaze, turning to follow a wide ramp which dove into the lake, around which a sparse dock waited for ships to return. The wharf itself was made of wooden planks, stark in contrast to the glistening streets. Ships floated on the lake¡¯s golden-flecked waters like ducks, motionless due to the illusion of distance. Nearby, fishermen were unloading a catch from a white yacht, supervised by two of the New Patricians¡¯ militia. Their posture was ridgid as they marched across the decking, rifles in hand, snapping orders at the fishermen. Clara had witnessed this slave-master dynamic before, but it was never easy to swallow. She wondered how many of those fishermen used to live in Milltown, how many had fallen into debt, or gotten into trouble, and been forced to come here to serve the New Patricians?


    Clara sighed and closed her eyes, fingers caressing the silver rim of her broken watch. She could feel Alister¡¯s eyes in the back of her head. It was only a matter of time before he approached her. She had to do this. She had to hide her guilt and swallow her pride. Face her fear.


    Turning towards the warehouse district, Clara strode purposefully towards Alister. The closer she got, the better her eyes adjusted the light inside. Beds and furniture lined the smoke-stained walls, forming pods for the residents, in the centre of which was a large fire pit encircled by chairs. There were about two-dozen men inside, dressed as she¡¯d remembered them from the church in Milltown, all Alister¡¯s crew. They grew quiet and motionless, turning to face her.


    Clara stopped a few paces before their boss and opened her arms. ¡°Well, I¡¯m here.¡±


    Alister held her gaze, his lips forming minute shapes without speaking. He held a peculiar cane¨Ca metal rod with copper wire coiling down its length¨Cand a revolver at his hip. After a pause, he found the words he was looking for. ¡°I¡¯m very glad. My apologies for the rough transfer.¡±


    ¡°Rough? Was all that necessary?¡± Clara glared. ¡°How¡¯s my brother? He was hurt.¡±


    ¡°He is recovering well. Quite animated, if I may say so.¡±


    ¡°Prove it. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°I would rather-¡±


    ¡°If you want me on your side,¡± Clara interrupted, ¡°then that starts with you proving that Andy is okay. Then we can talk.¡±


    Alister considered for a moment, then shut his mouth and turned around. ¡°This way.¡±


    Clara paced behind Alister as he led her around the Patrician¡¯s hangout. Behind it was a courtyard of  open terrain which spanned each of the three other warehouses. Clara gazed through open windows, draped by curtains or else boarded up with timber beams, bolted into the golden walls, but something about the architecture was off. The windows were too small and too low, doorways half the size they should be, except where someone had taken a power tool to the metal and expanded them. Where the golden walls met the earth, they didn¡¯t delve underground, but instead rested atop the cracked golden turf, torn along their edges like paper.


    ¡°The Golden City,¡± Clara said. Ahead, Alister stopped and turned, waiting for her to catch up to his side. ¡°There¡¯s not much left of it.¡±


    The tall man smiled, a mirthless, seemingly well-practised expression. ¡°But beautiful, nonetheless. Would you like to hear the story?¡±


    ¡°How long¡¯s the walk?¡± Clara said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep it brief,¡± Alister said, setting off again, but this time at a much slower pace, planting his coiled cane with every step. ¡°This place was once the financial centre of the world, the wealthiest city ever in human history. Zurich was its name, before its destruction and rebirth. The city turned to gold, dreams came true. Wealth in abundance, and destruction. What do you think happens when the properties of brick, timber and glass transform in a matter of minutes?¡±


    ¡°It crumbles,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°It shrinks,¡± Alister answered, tapping his cane on the golden stones. ¡°And at different rates too. These warehouses are the only buildings we¡¯ve been able to find which retained their original structure. They were built of the same grade of metal with few structural complexities. Even so, they require renovating.¡±


    As Clara gazed beyond the open space of the warehouse district, she picked out shapes in the rubble which she hadn¡¯t seen before: polished square panels, once windows, were piled up like leaves amongst branch-like poles and the golden beams of a once colossal building; a diminutive flight of stairs rose like a crumbling column beside a graveyard of vehicles, their components reduced at different rates, misshaping them almost beyond recognition. Piles of rubble, fine like sand castles, engraved by the coarse winds, featured the memory of industrial silos, ventilation tunnels, chimney stacks, grounded boats and toppled cranes. There was no plantlife save for the purple speckled moss which sprouted in the cracks of the paving stones.


    ¡°At first, when the sapes picked themselves up out of the rubble and looked around, they thought they had inherited insurmountable riches. Gold was a precious object in the old world, not just for its alluring appearance, but for its application. Conductivity, microchips and electronics. Of course, as with everywhere during the cataclysm, people believe that the apocalypses were isolated incidents. When they discovered that the world had changed, and that the value of gold had diminished, they were desperate to exchange it for food, fuel, guns and ammunition. The Bulwark Council ordered that the residents evacuate, take their boats and follow the canals to the reestablished population centres. But many remained, intending to weather the storm, and accrue the wealth.


    ¡°Those beleaguered citizens on the lakeside,¡± Alister said, wrinkling his nose. ¡°That¡¯s them, in all the wealth of the old world. They work for us now.¡±


    In the thin shadows of a gleaming hut, two men watched Clara intently as she walked beside Alister. Each of them were attending to weaponry, stripping rifles on a long golden table manufactured from the assorted rubble.


    ¡°Ironic, no?¡± Alister said.


    ¡°What is?¡± Clara took her eyes off the onlookers.


    ¡°The story of riches to rubble. It cannot be a coincidence.¡±


    Clara scowled. ¡°But it is.¡±


    ¡°How sure are you? They could have caused this to happen¡­ the sapes and all of their mistakes. There are members of the New Patricians who study the causality of the cataclysm who work to connect the dots.¡± Alister slowed his pace even further as they approached the overhang of a stout warehouse at the rear of the district. ¡°But I want to know what you think.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all random,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°All of it? Are you sure not just some of it is intentional?¡±


    ¡°Random. Chaos. Coincidence. A bit of this, a bit of that.¡± Clara nudged a slab of gold which jutted out of the shattered ground. ¡°But no, they didn¡¯t cause this. How could they? Something else did.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°What?¡±


    Clara shrugged. ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    ¡°Look at where we are,¡± Alister said. ¡°A city made from gold. Where is your sense of magic?¡±


    Clara didn¡¯t give him the satisfaction of a response. Alister led her beneath the warehouse¡¯s stout archway into a small room poked by cracks and shrunken doorways. Two holes were cut into the nearby walls to expand the doors there, leading into thin corridors beyond. In the centre of the small room, three men lounged in fold-out chairs, engaged in a game of cards. Clara recognised one man to be Knockoff. The stocky tattooed man sat upright as Alister and her entered, but didn¡¯t put his cards down.


    ¡°Has he been behaving?¡± Alister asked.


    ¡°Quiet as a fox,¡± Knockoff said. His eyes flickered over Clara¡¯s body, then to her face. ¡°Ma¡¯am.¡±


    Clara bit her tongue and followed Alister into an adjacent corridor. Knockoff said something under his breath as they departed, and his companions sniggered. Clara ignored them, eyes wide, observing her surroundings, trying to take in every little detail. The walls here were riveted together, seemingly once made of sheet metal. Anything not bolted onto the walls¨Csuch as lighting fixtures and doors¨Chad come loose when the city transformed and shrank. The rubble had since been cleared away. The walls shone with a sterile reflective sheen, broken only by the black iron bars bolted over a doorway at the bottom of the corridor.


    Clara¡¯s heart raced ahead of her as she approached the doorway. Once at the bars, she pressed her face between the gap and peered inside. Folded into the shadows in the corner of the cell, long black hair draped over his arms and knees, was her angel, Andy. He lifted his face slowly at their arrival, bloodshot eyes coming into focus, then jumped up suddenly and staggered toward her. Reaching through them, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into the bars, hugging her tight. Sudden random emotion flared up inside Clara. It filled her throat and burned her eyes. She was so happy to see him alive, so sorry that he was in pain. She bit her lip, but the tears still came, streaming down her face. She held her breath not to cry, just breathed in, smelling the worn leather of Andy¡¯s jacket, the must of his grimy hair, the roughness of his sweaty odour. ¡°You need a wash,¡± she said, voice quivering.


    Andy pulled away and took a deep breath, staring her deep in the eyes, a wealth of questions on his face.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± she said.


    He let go of her, his gaze drifting over Alister standing over her shoulder. His expression went blank, hard like a spade. He was motionless.


    Clara¡¯s heart skipped a beat, pulled in opposite directions. Her hands curled into fists as energy trickled into her palms, yet her mind raced to dampen her urgency. Now was not the time to fight. Not yet. She was better than that. Smarter.


    Clara¡¯s mouth was dry with anticipation. ¡°Alister hasn¡¯t hurt me,¡± Clara said, wetting her lips. ¡°And he¡¯s sorry for kidnapping us. He wants us to join the Patricians. Do you remember what we talked about?¡±


    Andy was a statue, not even his eyes moved.


    ¡°I¡¯m just¡­¡± Clara let out a shaky breath. She fiddled with his cage bars as she spoke. They were bolted into the golden wall on solid hinges, latched and locked in place by two heavy duty padlocks. ¡°I¡¯m so glad that you¡¯re alive.¡±


    Andy¡¯s eyes returned to Clara¡¯s face, but the softness was gone, burred by contempt, then his gaze fell on Alister¡¯s hip, and his eyes widened with rage. ¡°No.¡±


    Clara backed away from the cage, but kept one hand on the bars. ¡°What?¡±


    Alister grinned. With one hand on his eccentric cane, he rested his other on his revolver at his hip. Clara hadn¡¯t recognised it before, but the handle looked familiar. It was the same as the one which Andy normally carried. It might even be the same gun.


    ¡°Julie,¡± Andy whispered.


    ¡°Julie?¡± Alister asked, a sharp teasing tone on his tongue.


    ¡°How could you?¡± Andy growled, then slammed into the cages. Clara jumped away in shock. ¡°How could you, you traitorous bitch.¡± His face turned red and he reached through the cage towards Alister, who stood just out of range, grinning, as though he was watching a dog frantic on its leash.


    ¡°Whore!¡± Andy screamed, spittle flying out of his mouth. The bars stretched the skin over his skull as he reached through, fingers curling to touch his revolver¡¯s handle. ¡°How dare you?¡±


    ¡°Andy, calm down,¡± Clara said. ¡°Fucking hell.¡±


    Andy carried on spitting profanities, incoherent and inconsolable. In a state of shock, Clara found herself being led away from the cell by Alister, back down the corridor, with Andy¡¯s hateful ramblings echoing off the tinny walls. Once she was back inside the warehouse, she strode ahead of Alister, outside into the open air to catch her breath, shaking the residual anger out of her.


    ¡°He has been like that a lot.¡± Alister approached her from behind and put a hand on her shoulder.


    Clara shrugged him off. ¡°You knew the gun would trigger him.¡±


    ¡°The gun?¡± Alister said. ¡°His revolver? I had no idea.¡±


    Clara swallowed her bitterness, chewed through the abrasive cogs in her throat, and presented a calm on her face. ¡°So, you have our gear?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We didn¡¯t throw anything away, afterall, it is yours. We do not want to rob you, or molest you. We want you to join us, and we are finished with taking no as your answer. I apologise for the harshness of our hospitality, but it is just the cruel nature of the world.¡± Alister shrugged exaggeratedly. ¡°In the end, we are more powerful. We are right. And you are needed, Clara. I need you.¡±


    ¡°I need my meds,¡± Clara blurted. ¡°I need them now.¡±


    Alister paused. It wasn¡¯t the answer he had expected. ¡°For your injuries? I can summon a doctor.¡±


    ¡°Not so much,¡± Clara said. ¡°But thank you for the offer. I need my medicine for my condition. Seizures, had them since I was a kid.¡±


    Alister paused, regarding her. As the wind blew, he stroked his sandy blonde hair behind his ear. ¡°What medication?¡±


    ¡°Lamictal and Ferrous Fumarate. They should be in my rucksack.¡±


    Alister furrowed his brow. ¡°Iron tablets?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m deficient, and Lamotrigine.¡±


    ¡°We have medicine, and a doctor.¡±


    ¡°I need to take my meds daily,¡± Clara said. ¡°It¡¯s not normally an issue, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d make it one.¡±


    Alister stammered. ¡°Where is your medication?¡±


    ¡°In my rucksack.¡±


    ¡°What pocket exactly? I will have someone fetch it. There is something more important we must attend.¡±


    Clara huffed. ¡°Will they know what they¡¯re looking for? There are other tablets in there, a small first aid kit and painkillers. I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re making such a big deal out of this.¡±


    ¡°I do not know that I am... It is only that¡­ I would rather know that-¡±


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Clara interrupted. ¡°You haven¡¯t destroyed them have you?¡±


    ¡°I have not. All of your-¡±


    ¡°If you can¡¯t trust me to look through my own rucksack for my own medication, then how am I supposed to trust you with my entire life? Our futures?¡± Clara cocked her head. ¡°Come on, it¡¯s give and take. You let me do this for me, and I¡¯ll do something for you.¡±


    Clara left the proposal enticingly ambiguous. Alister held her gaze, but his eyes fell over her body for just a second. ¡°This way,¡± he said, pointing with his copper-coiled cane across the yard, back the way they had come. ¡°You know, you might not need them anymore, now that you are Augmented.¡± He set off across the cracked golden paving stones and mossy moats, clacking his cane as he walked.


    ¡°I know, but finding out is risky. Besides, withdrawals can be bad.¡±


    ¡°I would not worry,¡± he said. ¡°But if it makes you relaxed, then I am happy to help. It is probably a good idea that you recalibrate quickly. Our AMC is here, it would be no issue. I can see, the last few days have been difficult for you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. We got into a fight,¡± Clara said, keen to change the subject off of recalibration. The less the New Patricians knew about hers and Andy¡¯s recent abilities, the better.


    ¡°Nothing you cannot handle.¡±


    ¡°It was rough.¡±


    ¡°You are safe now,¡± Alister smiled. ¡°But the question I need to hear an answer to is¡­ will you be our ally? Do you think the future is bright?¡±


    Clara¡¯s mouth twitched into a smile. ¡°Maybe... But I have some questions.¡±


    ¡°Go. Ask.¡±


    ¡°Would Andy and I be free if we worked for you?¡±


    ¡°It is not work, it is a marriage,¡± Alister said. ¡°You will be as free as we can trust you to be. That is your future, whether you join us or not.¡±


    Crossing the courtyard, they returned to where Clara had spotted men tinkering with machinery outside a cylindrical vat, likely once a liquid tower. The men stopped their tasks to salute their boss¨Cthree fingers splayed across their hearts. Alister acknowledged them, then led her inside. Sunlight glinted through cracks in the walls, illuminating weapons racks and storage lockers which must have been imported by the Patricians. A tarnished golden countertop stood in the centre of the room, cluttered with tools, clamps, and weapons. One machine caught her interest: a gutted drone, with its wiring strung out on the counter, one of its propellers broken. Perhaps that¡¯s how the New Patricians had tracked them down to the vault? But she hadn¡¯t the time to wonder. Clara¡¯s eyes lingered on a fully intact pistol beside three more disassembled weapons. Its magazine was in the housing, perhaps it was loaded.


    ¡°Here,¡± Alister said, opening a locker, taking her rucksack out and placing it on the worktop. He remained at her shoulder as Clara unzipped the main compartment and rummaged around. Her fingers touched the small metallic object she was searching for, she placed it into the crook of her palm, then her fingers closed in on the packet of tablets.


    ¡°Here,¡± she said, withdrawing the tray and popping open a pill. She stuck her tongue out and placed the white tablet on the tip, making a show of it, then swallowed. ¡°Told you I wouldn¡¯t cheat.¡±


    ¡°For your seizures?¡± he asked.


    Clara nodded.


    ¡°And your iron tablets?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take the chance,¡± Clara said. ¡°Augmented now. Probably got iron to spare.¡±


    Somewhere outside, a horn blurted across the city. Clara raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Outside,¡± Alister said, guiding her out of the storage room, not taking his eyes off her.


    ¡°What¡¯s that then?¡± Clara asked.


    ¡°That will be Crane, the other southern duke of the New Patricians, and the sapes who you extracted from the vault. They have come to join our ranks.¡±


    Without another word, Alister strode towards the lakefront, Clara in tow, eager to witness the approaching convoy. The road which ran beside the lakefront was clear of debris. Muddy tire tracks marred the golden surface, leading off towards a forested mountain range beyond the city. Without her wrist terminal, Clara couldn¡¯t check a compass, but if she had to guess by the sun¡¯s position, the road led south. That coincided with the direction of the vault. Therefore, somewhere in that mountain range was also Milltown, the Molten Corp factory, and just beyond it, Gabriel¡¯s empty bunker.


    A horn sounded again. The fierce head of a canine-like demon emerged from a glittering cloud of dust, its twisted snarl stretched across a dozer blade snout. A dozen or more motorbikes flanked the wagon like runts circling the alpha male. Clara stood aside as the bikes sped past her and Alister towards the warehouses, where the men riding them dismounted. The riders were well equipped with heavy leather jackets, military helmets and armour. They had shotguns slung over their shoulders and grenade bandoliers strapped across their chests, yet peculiarly, a plethora of melee weapons as well: crudgels and sledgehammers, axes and even shields. Clara had thought that a faction as affluent as the New Patricians would be able to equip their militia with the best military firearms and ammunition, making melee weapons obsolete, but perhaps there was more to it than that.


    Alister¡¯s boys came outside to greet the newcomers. They clasped hands and shouted boisterously as the battlewagon trundled up the rear, herding a column of people behind it. Clara strode away from Alister to get a better view. Guarding either side of the column were more militia men. One glared at Clara behind his bandana as he passed. The flesh around his eyes was cracked and scabbed, as though he was in the process of healing a horrible facial wound. At first, she thought he was wearing armoured gloves, but upon a second glance, his hands were so fat and calloused that his fingers could hardly fit inside the trigger of the double barrel shotgun he was carrying. His waist was so wide that it affected the way he walked, causing him to hobble like a gorilla. All of the newcomers seemed to be like that, with unusual shapes to their bodies which affected the way they moved, and scars on their faces and hands. What was it? A disease? The effect of an apocalypse zone?


    The column came into view, and Clara¡¯s train of thought was cut short. Walking in the exhaust fumes of the battlewagon were the vault survivors, dressed in pastel jumpsuits, and at the back, barely able to keep up with them, his hands tied and eye bruised black, was the man whose selfless bravery had saved Andy¡¯s and her lives just yesterday: Gabriel.

 Chapter 70 - A Burning Flower

    Every step was agony. Gabriel¡¯s feet had never hurt like this before, he never knew they could. With the RPG games he had installed in his bunker, there was often a run-lock key he could press and the character would jog off towards the skybox forever; their stamina might deplete¨Calthough Gabriel often modded that function out of games (he found the stamina bar anti-fun)¨Cbut if it did deplete, it would regenerate anyway, and they would only ever stop if they got stuck in a corner or hit an invisible wall.


    Gabriel prayed to nameless gods to send him a run-lock key. The ropes around his wrists tugged, forcing him to take another excruciating step, or else fall into the mud again, where he¡¯d be beaten, and the barrel of a gun pressed against his skull, and he¡¯d be made to stand. Gabriel didn¡¯t want to die, now more than ever before in his life, but neither did he want to take another step. The former only just outweighed the latter.


    The rope pulled again, tied to the wrists of the man in front, and Gabriel tottered along, wincing as his soles cried out in agony. He shut his eyes and bowed his head, retaining just enough vision not to trip. He didn¡¯t want to see ahead, didn¡¯t want to envision their tortuous path, didn¡¯t want to spend any more hours calculating how many steps he had taken, and how many more were left to go.


    The battlewagon at the front of the convoy belted its horn. The motorcycles nearby revved their engines and sped off ahead. Sunlight slivered in through the dwindling canopy overhead. Gabriel dared a glance at the landscape before him, and what he saw stole his tired breath away. A glittering pile of gold stretched beyond a glistening lake, like the enormous haul of some ancient dragon. There might well be a dragon somewhere in these mountains who had amassed all of the gold on the planet in this one valley. Gabriel blinked, trying to make sense of it, then gave up. He had lived in his bunker since near the start of the cataclysm. He had never attempted to brave or understand the outside world, seeking instead to observe it through hacked camera feeds and intercepted transmissions. However, due to his stupid bravery, Plodder¡¯s misguided speech about friendship and his desire to impress Clara, he was a prisoner of a gang of orcs, being dragged through the mountainside towards slavery, or butchery, or whatever evil deeds they had in store for them.


    In some ways, walking downhill was harder than up, it put more weight on the soles of his feet as he practically fell upon his ankles, cockling and more than once falling on his arse. But he was quick to rise to save the ire of the guardsmen and the prisoner in front, who on more than one occasion had had to help him up. Gabriel closed his eyes again and counted his steps. He made it to triple figures, then opened his eyes again. The lakeshore was to his right, he could hear its soft waves of the grumble of the battlewagon¡¯s engine. Then ahead, on the side of the road, her beauty, a sudden stab of hope, was Clara. Her eyes were wide and blue, glinting in the golden atmosphere, brighter than any gem, any star. Gabriel swallowed, his throat dry. His legs gave out and he fell to the ground.


    A hand caught his arm, soft but firm. It lifted him to his feet, and there was Clara, so close to him that he could feel the heat of her radiant presence on his skin. Gabriel¡¯s lip quivered with all the things he wanted to say: I need water, and Don¡¯t worry about me baby cakes, I¡¯m fine, and Please for the love of god get me out of here!


    ¡°This one¡¯s with me,¡± Clara said, addressing a tall man approaching from behind her. ¡°Cut the ropes.¡± She walked alongside Gabriel to keep up with the marching column, her hand cradling his tender tricep.


    ¡°Who is he?¡± the tall man asked. His features were striking, as were his wardrobe choices: denim jacket and denim jeans, accessories with a metal cane coiled with copper wire.


    ¡°He¡¯s mine,¡± Clara said, and Gabriel almost passed out with joy. Suddenly, the pain in his body was gone, and it felt like he was floating in the warm waters of a pristine lake. ¡°I¡¯m allowed an entourage aren¡¯t I? Well, I chose him. He¡¯s my sape.¡±


    ¡°Your what?¡± Gabriel wheezed.


    The tall man cut Gabriel¡¯s ropes with a dagger and dragged him aside. ¡°Open wide,¡± he said, and Gabriel¡¯s jaw shot open with the command. Gabriel tried to turn his head, but with a flick of his wrist, the man snapped it back around as though he had pulled on an invisible string. He leaned in closer, inspecting Gabriel¡¯s throat, all the while, invisible fingers prodded and groped his body. Gabriel tried to turn, shield his face and eyes, but he could not move. He was frozen in place, beheld by this patriarch. His jaw agape, Gabriel whimpered.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Clara said, a wilted anger in her voice. ¡°Don¡¯t hurt him.¡±


    ¡°He seems to be in good nick,¡± the man said, ¡°If a little fatigued.¡±


    Suddenly the spell was released and Gabriel fell to his knees, massaging his jaw. He lowered his face in shame, staring into the man¡¯s polished leather boots. He was an embarrassment, defenceless and weak. A beta male, worthless.


    ¡°Why him?¡± the man said, towering above him.


    ¡°He¡¯s resourceful,¡± Clara said. A flicker reignited in Gariel¡¯s heart.


    ¡°Possessing a retinue of sapes is for New Patricians only,¡± the man said. ¡°Am I right to think that this means you have made your decision to join our ranks?¡±


    ¡°My mind has changed about many things, Alister.¡± There was a softness to Clara¡¯s voice which burgeoned on sweetness, prickling at Gabriel¡¯s ears. ¡°For one, yourself. I must admit, I got the wrong impression of you in Milltown.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s have this conversation another time,¡± Clara said. ¡°In private.¡± Her treacle sweet voice made Gabriel sick to his stomach with jealousy. So, Clara¡¯s taste in men was more the strong leader types, those who could protect and serve her. No surprise there. It was a dangerous world¨Cit had been the same in the jungles, when mankind were apes¨Cnow it was the same in the apocalypses. Women had always wanted an alpha male. Andy, Clara¡¯s companion, suited that description, and now so did this Alister. She would never go for a runt like him. All that Gabriel could hope for was to receive her mercy and serve as her assistant, just long enough that he figured out a way to escape and a way back to his private bunker where he could lock the doors, never again to send out a distress signal or open them to a buxom maiden in distress, never again to foolishly wander the world of behemoth beasts and men, content instead with his games and figurines, and fantasies of virtual worlds and alien lands.


    ¡°Where are my quarters?¡± Clara said, picking Gabriel up and wrapping her arm around his waist. Her hips against his, her breast so close to his chest. How could he help but fall in love with her? With that one touch, all of Gabriel¡¯s doubts surrendered. He melted in her arms.


    ¡°You don¡¯t expect me to sleep inside that cargo container again?¡± Clara said. ¡°That¡¯s not a good place to build a team.¡±


    ¡°I will have something arranged,¡± Alister said.


    ¡°Do it now,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Do it now,¡± Gabriel mimicked in the voice of the Terminator, though his impression was impaired by the dryness of his throat.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Alister said.


    Gabriel kept his mouth shut and looked the other way. With Clara¡¯s help, they made it down the lakeside towards a tent city. Gabriel gritted his teeth, wincing, but not verbalising his pain. He didn¡¯t want to come across as a baby to his escort. Ahead, women and children were herded out of a large tarpaulin structure, forced at gunpoint to set up shop elsewhere. Gabriel and Clara entered their abandoned domicile, complete with floor-mattress furnishings, a heap of golden rubble acting as a fireplace and a pile of ash beneath for the open fire. And there, beside the bed, was a miraculous jug of water.


    ¡°This will do nicely,¡± Clara said, setting Gabriel down on the bed. Rolling over, he took the jug of water in both hands and slurped it down. ¡°When would you like to see me again?¡±


    Alister licked his lips in the open flap of the tent. ¡°Tonight,¡± he said. ¡°I will have a meal prepared and shall contemplate our discussion. I trust you have the book Vincent gave you? Our manifesto?¡±


    Clara drew a book from the large pockets of her combat jacket and read the title. ¡°The Augmentus Epoch, by The Superiority.¡±


    Alister smiled. ¡°That is the one. I am sure you will find it illuminating. Until the night.¡± He bowed and made his exit.


    Having drunk his fill, Gabriel sank into the torn spring mattress like it was a bed of feathers made for the kings of fairy tales. For what felt like a long time, Clara just stood there, staring out of the tent flap into the afternoon air. Gabriel¡¯s heartbeat jittered as his brain swelled, and his temples throbbed. He closed his eyes, consciously relaxing every muscle in his beaten body. He didn¡¯t know when he¡¯d be forced to rise again, so he intended to maximise his rest time. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡± Clara¡¯s face was above his. When had she gotten so close? She touched his forehead. ¡°You¡¯re hot.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Gabriel said, then immediately regretted.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get some more water.¡±


    All throughout the afternoon, Clara attended to Gabriel¡¯s wounds, quietly explaining what she could about their situation, and apologising far too much than she needed to that he¡¯d been dragged into it. She undressed his clothes, respectful of his modesty, and washed his face and feet with a cloth. Gabriel focussed as hard as he could to retain every single second of it, as though he was coding the memory of it into his brain. They didn¡¯t talk, but as the silence between them stretched out, Gabriel found himself more relaxed than ever. Clara hummed softly to herself, a tune which Gabriel could¡¯t place.


    ¡°What is that?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°That song?¡±


    ¡°What song?¡± she asked.


    Gabriel tried to hum it back, but his voice was nothing like a rusty hinge compared to her pristine obo.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Clara smiled. ¡°It¡¯s a tune from my jeep. Well, it was off a CD that was stuck in the jeep. But, it¡¯s gone now.¡±


    ¡°The jeep or the CD?¡±


    ¡°Both.¡±


    ¡°What was the song?¡±


    ¡°No idea,¡± Clara said. ¡°It was stuck in the system when I bought the jeep. I never found a case for it, or knew anyone who recognised it.¡± Her smile widened. ¡°It¡¯s lost.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Gabriel said. ¡°You carry it.¡±


    Clara chuckled, the sound like soft rain off tin roofs and wind chimes in the valley. ¡°That¡¯s a nice way of thinking about it.¡±


    ¡°Sing it again,¡± Gabriel said. ¡°I might know it.¡±


    Clara cleared her throat, raising her chin to stare off into the canvas walls, eyes glazed over. Then she sang for him, at the edge of his lifeline, at the end of the world. ¡°They say the meek shall inherit the earth. But all I see are the helpless, crushed by the wheel of man.¡± Clara closed her eyes, absorbed by her song. ¡°We¡¯re in the shadow of a dying world. We¡¯re in the shadow of a dying world.¡±


    She hummed the melody a few times over, then her eyes shot to him. ¡°Anything?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t recognise it.¡±


    Clara blushed. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever realised before how depressing those lyrics are.¡±


    ¡°It sounds nice to me,¡± Gabriel said.


    Clara smiled. He¡¯d made her smile. Him. Gabriel, man of charm, harbinger of gayety and cheer. Silence befell them once more, but it was a comfortable quiet, like the one which Gabriel had experienced in his bunker with his figurines and AI chat scripts; he didn¡¯t feel like less of a man for it being there, as though he should be forced to say something, or else be discovered imbecile or a bore. Rather, he was confident in the silence, content to snooze while Clara sat by his side and read her book, as the sun dipped in the late winter sky outside and night rested upon them.


    Gabriel awoke to the rowdy sound of men outside their tent. He held his breath as anxiety swept through his body, expecting them to intrude, but they walked on by. Unable to sleep, Gabriel listened to the rustle of the tarpaulin and periodic flicker of a turning page as Clara read her book. Gabriel¡¯s feet were hot and swollen, so he stuck them outside his blanket, holding them to the cold draft of the tent flap. Their little room was lit by candlelight, and the smouldering glow of a log fire beneath the table. The flickering shadows on the canvas walls reminded Gabriel of what he had witnessed on the vault¡¯s video feeds: shadow demons slaughtering defenceless people. If he had been in Clara¡¯s position, could he have helped them? Would he have the strength, let alone the guts to do something? Probably not. This one overnight trek from the vault¡¯s entrance to the lakeside had left his body in tatters, his resolve teetering on a knife¡¯s edge. Yet there was Clara, poised like a regal painting, focussed on the book in her hand. The depth of Gabriel¡¯s admiration for her magnified. Not only was she stunning, and kind, and intelligent, but she was strong. Normally, characters such as that annoyed him in video games, too pristine to be realistic, too flawless to be likeable. Yet, Clara¡¯s perfection was effortless, it simply emanated from her as warmth does a flame, or the sweetness does a flower.


    ¡°Clara,¡± Gabriel said before he could stop himself. She turned to face him, expression soft, absent of judgement. ¡°I¡­ You¡­¡±


    Heavy footsteps approached their shelter. Alister pulled back the tent flap and ducked inside. ¡°My lady, the sun is setting over the lake. I thought you might like to see it.¡±


    Clara marked her page and folded the book back into her jacket pocket. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m starved.¡± She rose and stretched, removing her baseball hat from her head. ¡°But I need a mirror first, to get ready. A gold plate won¡¯t do. I can¡¯t see my face in that.¡±


    ¡°How quickly you¡¯ve filled the role of princess,¡± Alister laughed. ¡°I shall have one delivered.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Clara said, turning her back to Alister. ¡°You¡¯ve been very accommodating, even after our grievances. I¡¯m sure Andy will come around too, given a little time.¡±


    Gabriel¡¯s heart shrunk to hear the smile in her voice.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Alister said, and departed.


    Clara waited a few seconds before checking outside their shelter that he had gone, then she knelt beside Gabriel. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Gabriel said.


    ¡°How are your legs?¡±


    ¡°Sore.¡±


    ¡°Good enough to move?¡±


    Gabriel nodded.


    ¡°Good enough to run?¡±


    Anxiety stabbed him. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I could,¡± he stammered.


    Clara put a hand on his chest, drawing the panic out of his body like poison from a wound. ¡°Get some more rest. Sleep, I¡¯ll be back.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back,¡± Gabriel muttered under his breath as Clara rose, quickly fixing her hair into a scruffy ponytail, drawing the plume through the rear hole in her cap¡¯s strap, and excited their shelter, leaving Gabriel alone.


    For more than an hour, Gabriel fretted, awaiting her return. Nobody came with a mirror, nobody checked up on him, or came to bind him in rope and drag him away. Gabriel¡¯s stomach rumbled, but amongst the rest of his bodily pains, hunger was the least of his worries. He wondered what relation Alister had with Clara. He had assumed they were adversaries at first, given the nature of their kidnapping, but now they talked alliably. Was it an enemies-to-lovers situation? Were they out on a date? Gabriel wanted desperately to climb out of his tent and sneak up on their meeting to eavesdrop, but even if he¡¯d had the energy to do so, it wasn¡¯t what Clara wanted. Her command was to rest, so Gabriel remained deadly still, preserving every joule of energy he had, devouring his fat reserves in order to keep his nutrition up, his wounds healing and his heart pumping.


    Gabriel burnt a handful of calories to straighten his blue and red honeydew Hawiian shirt, dusting some of the dirt off of it to make himself more presentable upon Clara¡¯s return. Minutes slipped by, and Gabriel found himself dreaming of walking an impossible distance, harried by hurtful voices. Though distressed, Gabriel could tell that he was asleep, and accepted the state as the most optimal mode for maximum rest, and so braved the journey, taking one pained step after another until finally, voices penetrated his slumber more real than those he imagined, and he roused from his imagined toil.


    ¡°I would have hated being your enemy,¡± came Alister¡¯s pompous voice.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Clara chimed, sweet like a spring melody. ¡°You would.¡±


    ¡°Then I will need your partner¡¯s answer soon,¡± Alister continued. ¡°The winter is late. The snow has thawed. We shall be returning to the nation. I might be convinced to stay here with you to teach you, or you could perhaps travel north with us.¡±


    There was a belated pause, during which Gabriel wondered if the two of them had walked out of earshot, then Clara¡¯s voice sounded loud and clear through the tarpaulin flap. ¡°He will join. I¡¯ll convince him.¡±


    ¡°How easily?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s our best option,¡± Clara said. ¡°He¡¯ll understand, but I¡¯ll wait until the morning to speak to him. Give him some time to cool off.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Alister said. ¡°But may I ask, what has changed your mind.¡±


    ¡°The nation¡¯s power. I underestimated you and the New Patricians. I didn¡¯t think that your ambitions aligned with our own. I thought that you would limit us.¡±


    ¡°But we will not,¡± Aliser bellowed triumphantly. ¡°We will aid you, and fight with you. Strategise and work with you, side by side.¡± Alister paused. Gabriel held his breath. ¡°There is so much we need to rebuild.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to be honest with you Alister,¡± Clara said. ¡°It¡¯s going to take some getting used to. But I appreciate everything you¡¯ve done for us, even if it was a little rough, your mercy hasn¡¯t gone unnoticed.¡±


    ¡°Mercy between equals and would-be allies is merely an inalienable advantage of social evolution.¡±


    Clara chuckled, though it sounded to Gabriel like a tin bell being struck with a rubber mallet. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have worded it like that, but I guess so.¡±


    ¡°Then, this is goodnight,¡± Alister replied.


    ¡°Goodnight.¡±


    As Clara ducked into their shelter, Gabriel caught a glimpse of Alister behind her in a waning light of dusk, his bronze skin tinted by the red sky above, sandy hair like clouds, catching the basking rays of his victory gloating about his head. Clara let the tent flap fall behind her, then remained still while Alister¡¯s footsteps disappeared down the road. A moment longer, and she slumped into the fold-out chair with a weighty sigh. ¡°Here,¡± she said, handing a tupperware carton to him. Inside was fresh fish on a bed of leaves, cooked and seasoned. Gabriel sat upright and wolfed it down. Something tapped his knee¨Ca bottle of water¨Cand a chunk of bread fell into his lap.


    ¡°You eat like Andy,¡± Clara said, and the fondness that swept up in her voice could not have been faked. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Gabriel made an affirmative sound while his mouth was crammed with food. What¡¯s happening? He tried to say, but it came out a muffle.


    ¡°I have a favour to ask,¡± Clara said.


    Gabriel swallowed his food and looked at her, holding her eye contact for as long as he could bear. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°If we can get you back to your bunker safely, can Andy and I stay there, just for a short while?¡±


    Gabriel nodded. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Just while we regroup, figure things out.¡±


    ¡°Yes, be my guest. You¡¯re my guests, I mean. You can stay with me for as long as you want.¡±


    ¡°Okay, good.¡± Clara¡¯s eyes danced about the tarpaulin walls, as if trying to discern the future from the shadows cast upon them.


    ¡°But how?¡± Gabriel said.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna break Andy out tonight.¡±


    Gabriel took a sip of water. ¡°I¡¯ll refer to my previous question.¡±


    Clara smiled, fishing something out of her small breast pocket. A packet of what looked like paracetamol tablets, and a key, the teeth of which were all filed to the same length. ¡°With this.¡±

 Chapter 71 - Breakout

    As far as prisons went, Andy¡¯s golden shell was alright. It was dry enough, with a pile of rags for a bed. He¡¯d been brought two meals and given time to be alone. No interrogations or torture, except for the boredom. Just knowing that Clara was safe made his stay easier, even if there was Julie¡¯s bitter betrayal to wrestle with. For hours, he ground his teeth, wondering why she had done such a thing¨Cjoin another man¡¯s side, be at his hip like that, ready to shoot for him. It made him feel sick. Her actions were disgusting, and what made it worse was that he didn¡¯t fully understand them. Was she ignorant, or had she joined his nemesis¡¯ side out of spite?


    Things between him and Julie had advanced so quickly over the past two weeks, he could barely keep up; before, they¡¯d just been gun and shooter, but now they were locked in a very physical relationship with one another due to his Affinity delineation. But it felt cheap to explain what they had away as being just a product of his Augmentation¡¯s powers. No, the passion he felt for Julie must be real, it was the first time he¡¯d felt this way about someone or something, and that scared him.


    Andy pantomimed confronting his once-trusty revolver, pacing about his cell, shouting wildly and whispering softly. In one version, he told Julie that he didn¡¯t need her anymore, that he had grown beyond what power she could lend him; in another, he apologised for neglecting her feelings, although he didn¡¯t exactly know where he¡¯d gone wrong. Women, eh.


    Still, the hours crawled by, and Andy hit a dead-end with his imagination. All that could give him closure would be speaking to her directly. Until then, Andy returned his attention to the jagged triangle of gold in his hand. He had been filing its edge on the floor to make an improvised dagger. It was a shoddy weapon compared to Julie, but filling it gave him something to do.


    Somewhere outside of his cell, the voices of his guards rose to a ruckus. He could smell their alcohol from his cell. He¡¯d never needed a drink so badly in his life, something to squash his affliction and kill his boredom. As the sheen of daylight outside his cell settled in the black, so too did their voices until there was just the quiet of night. With nothing at all to distract him, other voices rose to the forefront of Andy¡¯s mind. Some were gibberish, gargling moon-speak, like a choir of babbling babies, but others were sophisticated, philosophical. Andy could comprehend neither, but engaged with them for a lack of anything else to do. He chattered to himself, one voice amongst many, swimming in a pool of souls. Maybe that¡¯s what they were: people he¡¯d killed. Maybe, because he killed them, a little bit of their consciousness stuck with him, trapped inside his skull until the day he died. The more he theorised, the more it made sense to Andy¡­ somewhat.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± he asked the council of philosophical voices.


    Their self-indulgent response was so elaborate that the syllables of each elongated word bled into one another, forming strings of syllables without any meaning, yet with a tone that boasted grandeur, just a long maggot of vocal nonsense boering away into his brain.


    ¡°I regret asking,¡± Andy said.


    Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, more real than the illusions, shoeing them away. Andy remembered having once being told that, so long as he could differentiate between the hallucinations and reality, he hadn¡¯t gone completely insane. So at least there was that. Andy slid his golden dagger into his breast pocket and glowered through his fringe at the cell door.


    Clara¡¯s face appeared between the bars. Andy¡¯s chest swelled as his vision came into focus. ¡°Are you alone?¡± he asked, rising and approaching the bars.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Clara was fiddling with the padlocks, inserting a key and bashing it. He¡¯d seen her do it before on several occasions, most recently in a basement full of zombies. ¡°We¡¯re breaking out.¡±


    ¡°Finally.¡±


    Clara got the first padlock off without a hitch and started working on the second.


    ¡°What¡¯s the layout like?¡± Andy asked.


    ¡°Large compound. Four warehouses and a yard in the centre. Everything is made of gold. Don¡¯t ask. It¡¯s a big city, but mostly rubble. There¡¯s a lake two-hundred metres away, and a road alongside it that leads out of the city.¡±


    ¡°Vehicles?¡±


    ¡°Motorbikes parked in groups. I know which one to take, found out whose was whose when Alister gave me a romantic tour of the lakeside.¡±


    ¡°Ow-la-la. We going to have to hotwire it?¡±


    Clara wiggled her fingers, sparks sputtering out of their tips. ¡°Got it covered.¡±


    ¡°Look at you go,¡± Andy said. ¡°Armoury?¡±


    ¡°Sort of, yeah, one warehouse down. Our gear¡¯s in there, but it¡¯s not worth it.¡±


    ¡°What isn¡¯t?¡±


    The second padlock came off. Andy opened the gate and stepped into the corridor. He took a deep breath and stretched his limbs. It felt like he¡¯d walked through a portal into another world.


    ¡°It¡¯s not worth going back for our gear,¡± Clara said. ¡°We just need to keep quiet and leave stealthily.¡±


    Andy chortled. ¡°Clara, I fully intended to kill everyone here.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid. We¡¯re outnumbered, we need to escape.¡±


    ¡°So they can track us down again?¡±


    Clara stopped at a doorway ahead of him and peeked around the corner.


    ¡°They want us to join them, right?¡± Andy whispered. ¡°Be their slaves, or something?¡±


    ¡°They want to rule us,¡± Clara said. ¡°Tell us where to go, what to do. Use us as pawns with perks, but I¡¯m not interested.¡±


    Andy peered around the corner into a large room with a dustbin fire in the centre, and a large open doorway leading outside. The flames had died down, but the light they cast was enough that Andy could see three tarpaulin shelters, inside which men slumbered. A table built from rubble bore the evidence of a good night¨Ccards, poker chips and several bottles of booze.


    ¡°So we kill them. Now¡¯s our chance,¡± Andy said.


    Clara shook her head. ¡°I zapped those three with a neural shock, put a bit of extra juice into it. They should be out cold for the night. No point killing them. We only risk waking them up and causing a scene.¡±


    ¡°Okay, them three last.¡± Andy stepped into the room, senses heightened in the dark. He inspected the bottles on the table, finding one half full of whiskey. Delighted, he gulped it down. ¡°Oh fuck that hits the spot.¡±


    ¡°This way,¡± Clara said, heading towards the wide open exit, outside of which was a bleak golden yard beneath the overcast night sky.


    Whipping his lips, Andy glanced at the three shelters. Could his nemesis be inside one? Drawing the tent flap back, Andy saw a man sprawled out amongst rags, sharing his bed with a bolt-action rifle. Andy slipped the rifle out and contemplated killing his captor, but between his dull golden blade, his teeth and the rifle, the kill would either be quick or quiet, but not both. Checking the chamber of the rifle, Andy took a moment to appreciate its weight, the grain of the wood stock and the resistance of the trigger. It was a good rifle, solid and simple, not many moving parts. A chamber, a hammer and a muzzle. Versatile and accurate.


    Clara had taken point behind the doors, watching outside for movements. She appeared to be unarmed, but with her new Augmented abilities, that shouldn¡¯t be a problem.


    ¡°The armoury,¡± Andy said, strolling outside. He could see well enough in the dark to know the yard was unoccupied.


    ¡°That¡¯s not necessary,¡± Clara hissed. ¡°Knockoff¡¯s motorbike is beside the lake. Gabriel is waiting for us. If we can avoid alerting Alister, we can get out here and be gone, take some time to regroup.¡±


    ¡°Whoa whoa,¡± Andy protested. ¡°Too many names. Knock-what? Gabriel, the computer kid?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ve thought it all through.¡±


    Clara set off before he could argue. Together, they reached the outer wall of the second warehouse, lurking there for a moment to check they hadn¡¯t been spotted.


    ¡°Sis, when are we going to get an opportunity like this again? They¡¯re sleeping. We just set some fires, put some bullets in their heads and grenades in their sleeping bags.¡±


    Clara pointedly ignored him, making a show of looking around, but Andy knew she was stalling for time, stuck on the prospect of what had to be done.


    ¡°If you feel bad about murder,¡± Andy continued. ¡°You know I¡¯m your man. Just show me the armoury and cover my back. I¡¯ll do the dirty.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too risky, there¡¯s a lot of them.¡±


    ¡°How many?¡±


    ¡°Fourty or so in total, and two Augmented leaders.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± Andy said. ¡°But we should leave a message. Kill a bunch of them so they think twice about tracking us down.¡±


    ¡°Well, then you¡¯re adding revenge to the list of their motivations.¡±


    ¡°And fear,¡± Andy said, then he snapped his fingers. ¡°I¡¯ve got it. We kill their leader¨Ckill their strongest guy, the one who stole Julie away from me, right? Double Denim. I¡¯ll stick a bullet in his face so when his boys think about tracking us down, all they¡¯ll be able to imagine is a big fat exit wound out the back of his skull.¡±


    ¡°Bloody hell, Andy,¡± Clara scoffed. ¡°Keep it professional.¡±


    ¡°I will do if you do.¡± Andy took a deep breath to control his anger. ¡°You know the rules. No mercy, no exceptions.¡±


    Clara closed her eyes for a moment, chewing her lip. ¡°Alister won¡¯t quit. He¡¯s fixated, obsessed.¡±


    Andy squeezed his little sister¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll do it, just say the word.¡±


    Clara closed her eyes, leaning against the wall, head bowed. Andy nudged her in the ribs with his elbow. ¡°Go on, you know I¡¯m right.¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°Stop it.¡±


    ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°Owch,¡± she snarled. ¡°That¡¯s where I¡¯m cut, arsehole.¡±


    ¡°Oh, sorry.¡±


    Clara cursed under her breath. ¡°Just Alister.¡± Her face contorted, lips pressed shut. ¡°But only if there¡¯s a clean shot. We don¡¯t need a firefight, not now. We¡¯re too heavily outgunned.¡±


    ¡°Show me the armoury,¡± Andy said. ¡°I¡¯ll even the odds.¡±


    Clara¡¯s eyes darted this way and that, biting her lip. ¡°We have to play this right. We can¡¯t fight them all. The priority is Alister.¡±


    ¡°Too right it is,¡± Andy said, picturing the vile man with Julie in his hands.


    ¡°Okay, this way.¡±


    Andy grinned to himself, following Clara across the yard, keeping to the shadows. Ahead, a silo stood before a mound of cleared sparkling rubble. Scaffolding climbed the walls like vines. Metal bars, like the ones over his cell, bolted the excavated doorway. Clara started working the locks while Andy kept watch. A flicker of light emanated from the reflective innards of a large warehouse at the front of the yard, about thirty metres away. Beyond that, a knee-high wall bordered a blank expanse¨Cpresumably, that was the lake which Clara had mentioned. The hum of chatter skipped towards Andy over the cracked, moss-pitted pavement. A man rounded the far warehouse¡¯s corner, into the shadows of the yard, and leaned against the wall. He was too far away and likely too drunk to spot them in the night, but Andy drew a bead on him just in case, covering his head with the pin of his rifle¡¯s ironsights.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Clara murmured.


    ¡°What¡¯s the hold up?¡±


    ¡°Lock¡¯s rusty.¡± Clara bashed the key and juggled the clasp. Finally, it came free.


    ¡°Hello?¡± The voice came from directly above them. Andy turned and aimed his rifle directly upwards to the roof of the silo. The bright light of a torch returned. ¡°Who-¡±


    Andy fired and cocked the rifle before the torch smashed against the floor. There was a banging on the silo roof, which echoed throughout its innards.


    ¡°Dammit,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t be helped.¡±


    Clara huffed and bashed the second padlock and swung the bars open, ducking inside. Andy took cover in the doorway. Above them, a bell rang out. So there was a second man up there. Andy counted his ammo, weighing the rifle. Nine bullets.


    The man on the roof started shouting. Across the yard, people gathered in the shadows. Andy estimated the watchman¡¯s position above him and fired into the roof. There was a crashing sound, and the yelling became screaming¨Che¡¯d hit his target, but not killed the man, likely not enough penetration.


    ¡°Here,¡± Clara said, tossing him a double barrel shotgun.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Andy said. ¡°I want a rifle.¡±


    ¡°Most of this shit needs repairs.¡± Clara threw open locker doors, darting around the table in the centre of the room. She slung a rucksack over her shoulders and checked the chamber of a 9mm pistol.


    ¡°Is that it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Clara said, peering through the doorway. ¡°Still want to fight an army?¡±


    ¡°How much .308 do we have?¡±


    Clara pushed a box towards him. Most of the rounds inside were missing their caps, chalky with gunpowder, requiring reloading. ¡°Aww.¡±


    Clara slapped a handful of shotgun cartridges into his hands. ¡°Change of plans. We¡¯ll hit Alister another time. Let¡¯s bounce.¡±


    Outside, a group of ten or more people were running across the open yard towards them. They were shouting like a pack of dogs, but the watchman on the roof was too busy gritting his teeth and moaning to update them. As Clara and Andy excited the silo, the first snap of gunfire clipped the wall at his elbow, casting a flicker of golden sparks. It was like the first note of a homebound symphony, held for just a moment longer than was necessary, a teetering whistle and ping before the calamitous drop.


    Andy spun around, shouldering the rifle. His Augmentation¡¯s combat enhancing hormones burst like a cherry on his tongue. It had been too long since shooting something had felt good. Dashes of light flickered their meteorite tails between the heads of his assailants, drawing lines of collision, where one well placed Ricochet Shot might kill three. Like waiting for a fish to bite, Andy held his breath and squeezed the trigger, then struck, launching a magic bullet into the night. Three men fell, one after another¨Cthe forerunner lost his head, the man behind him a heart, and the third man crumpled to the floor as his shin snapped in half.


    ¡°Thwar, you¡¯ve got some kick,¡± Andy said to the rifle.


    Clara dragged him around the edge of the silo by his belt as the militia returned fire. ¡°Fire and move.¡±


    ¡°Affirmative,¡± Andy said, mocking the formality in her tone.


    They sprinted through pathways amongst the indiscernible mounds of rubble, snaking towards the lakeside, leaving the calamity of injured men behind. If they relocated quickly, they¡¯d still have half an element of stealth on their side. Andy could smell the fresh waters over the city¡¯s metallic tang when a headlamp lit up the night. Clara dove into cover behind a row of crumbling miniature cars as the light cut through the ruins. Andy remained a few steps behind, peaking between the cracks towards the light. He recognised the heavily armoured vehicle parked some distance down the main lakeside road. The lights blinked as people moved in front of them, spreading out into the ruins and getting closer.


    ¡°There,¡± Clara said, pointing at a cluster of motorbikes parked across the road. ¡°I¡¯ll start her up, cover me.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Andy said, aiming his rifle. There was a shape hiding amongst the bikes, close to where Clara pointed.


    ¡°No,¡± she said, waving her arms. ¡°That¡¯s Gabriel, he¡¯s coming with us.¡±


    ¡°Right, sure.¡± Andy took her position by the edge of the road while Clara dashed over the open ground towards the bikes. The headlamps dazzled him somewhat, but squinting, he spotted five men jogging down the road towards them. Ricochet potential danced in his blurry lamp-spotted vision, too difficult to catch. He¡¯d have to do things oldschool. Targeting the forerunner¡¯s legs¨Ca man dressed in a hooded coat¨CAndy drew on the aid of his Augmentation¡¯s Enhanced Precision targeting systems and blew his kneecap apart. The man went down screaming¨Cbetter for Andy than the silence a headshot brought¨Chis rifle clattering across the street. His companions split, taking cover. One of them¨Ca teenager with curly orange hair that soaked up the headlamp¡¯s rays like a beacon¨Cbelly-flopped onto the pavement and hid behind the stock of his rifle like it was a shield. Andy chuckled, lining the boy¡¯s skull up with his muzzle... But nah, the kid clearly wasn¡¯t much of a threat, it was a waste of a shot, and he only had six left.


    The rev of an engine barked over the injured fellow. Their position was blown, but the gang was scattered, for now. Clara and Gabe wheeled a bike out of the back of the pack onto the road. Andy chose two of the four remaining assailants, locked onto their heads, and with Enhanced Precision, exposed their brains to the night¡¯s air, replacing his spent rounds in the echoes of their final lamentations.


    ¡°Andy,¡± Clara shouted, behind the isolated motorbike. ¡°Covering fire.¡±


    Andy broke cover and crossed the distance between them while she emptied the 9mm¡¯s magazine down the road. The bullets whistled past Andy and panged off the golden streets. Andy reached them, and aimed down the road while they mounted. Clara started the engine. It was a smooth operation¨CAndy had killed a bunch of them with ammo to spare. It wasn¡¯t as gratifying an outcome as he¡¯d hoped, but he knew when to stick on the cards he was dealt. He was about to take his eyes off the road when a figure caught his eye. A tall man in a thick jacket strode down the centre of the street, backlit by the battlewagon¡¯s headlamps, cane in hand like a pimp. One more kill couldn¡¯t hurt.


    ¡°Clara,¡± the figure shouted. ¡°Please tell me that isn¡¯t you.¡±


    Andy squeezed the trigger, but a fraction later, his target flicked his wrist. Somehow, Andy had missed. No, that wasn¡¯t possible, the man had deflected the shot. It was then that Andy noticed the man¡¯s outfit¨Cdenim jacket and denim jeans, and brighter than anything else in the golden city, almost too brilliant to look at, the silver hammer of a revolver glittered in a holster at his side. Julie.


    Double Denim thrust his palm out, and a shockwave rushed through the thicket of motorbikes like a wave, demolishing them, reducing their cover to none. Andy crouched and leant into the wave, but beside him, Gabe didn¡¯t have such a good time, crashing into their motorbike, almost knocking Clara off her feet.


    His sis jumped into action, the hot light of a thunderbolt condensing in her hands before launching it like a baseball. The light stretched away from her like a javelin, as fast as a tracer round, illuminating the golden road as it zapped towards Double Denim. It sparked upon impact, energy coursing through the ground at his feet, spreading through the golden ruins like a spark in a powder keg. However, he remained standing.


    ¡°What?¡± Clara blurted.


    Double Denim flung his hand out as though he was tossing a rope. Something snatched Andy¡¯s collar bone, then it pulled him off his feet. Crashing into the handlebars of an upturned motorbike, Andy clutched his chest, but there was no solid object attached to him. And yet, with another tug, he was pulled backwards over himself like a dog on a leash.


    ¡°Last mag.¡± The hammer of Clara¡¯s pistol clicked twice before her arm snapped back and the gun was flung from her hands. ¡°The cane,¡± she shouted. ¡°Now!¡±


    Andy rolled onto his knees and drew a bead on his target. At the same moment, Clara launched a thunderbolt down the street. The electricity doused Double Denim in sparks, once again dissipating, but for a moment, he was blinded.


    Andy squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew perfectly, not towards Double Denim¡¯s face, where he might deflect it, but towards the cane, snapping it out of his hands. The coiled rod rattled to the pavement as another golden light blossomed behind Andy. Frantically, Double Denim darted to pick it up when a thunderbolt struck him in the chest. This time, Clara¡¯s attack blasted him off his feet. Double Denim landed on his back, electricity dancing over his body as if someone had stuck jumper cables down his pants.


    Andy ran out into the road to get a clear shot on him to finish him off, but a volley of fire returned. A flush of heat coarse through Andy as his Evasive Fire protocol triggered. Skidding to his knees, bullets whizzed past his head. Andy fell to his stomach, aiming his rifle to finish the job, but somebody jumped over Double-D¡¯s body and intercepted the shot. Andy the martyr in the back, surely penetrating his spine, surely hitting his target. But was it enough?


    Andy rolled into the cover of roadside rubble as bullets pinged off the golden roadside beside him. Cocking the rifle, he aimed again.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Clara revved the engine.


    Groaning, Andy jumped up and onto the back of the bike behind Gabe. Clara throttled the engine. The acceleration almost flung Andy out of his seat. He wrapped his arms around Gabe¡¯s waist, bolt-action rifle in the crook of his arm, the double barrel shotgun slung over his other shoulder. Behind them, the flash of headlamps cast their shadows across the ruins. Engines howled like wolves, revving like yipping dogs, exhilarated to chase their prey.


    Andy whooped. ¡°I think we got him.¡±


    The bike bounced and wobbled, overloaded on the uneven road. There was riding bitch, and then there was sitting behind Gabe¡¯s fat arse, barely holding on above the rear wheel cover while Clara accelerated to forty, fifty, sixty miles an hour on the rubble strewn streets. Andy¡¯s teeth chattered as the base of his spine took the brunt of the force. Given the horrors they faced on a daily basis, dying in a motor vehicle accident wasn¡¯t exactly how he¡¯d envisioned going out.


    The road followed the lakeside, turning steadily and rising towards a mountain range. The crumbled remains of once large buildings narrowed their path. Clara broke to take a corner, but the wheels skidded against the road¡¯s glimmering surface. At once, she and Andy leaned to the right, angling the bike into the turn. Gabe shrieked, shifting in his weight the other way. Andy would have slapped him if he could spare a hand. They cut across the corner with a fraction to spare. The rear wheel beneath Andy churned through rubble as Clara righted their trajectory. But the manoeuvre had cost them speed. With the three of them weighing the bike down, they¡¯d need to get a good head start if they were going to outrun the wolves.


    The straightened onto a direct highway out of the city. Ahead, the terrain opened up. To their left, the golden sheen of the city ebbed and gave way to a more solid blackness of soil and foliage. Hills rose out of the landscape, dotted with sprawling forest. Beyond them, the shaggy peaks of wild crouching mountains held aloft the overcast night sky. The road ahead had a golden shine, but it was toned down, diminishing into the hills. Trees had broken through the cracks in the pavement. At a junction, Clara slowed the bike to a stop.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Get into the trees.¡± Clara hopped off the bike and ran back down the road. There, one last ruined building stood gleaming on the roadside before the emptiness of the hills. ¡°Take position. We¡¯ll ambush them here. Gabriel, get the bike off the road.¡±


    ¡°Why are we stopping?¡± Gabe said, limping off the bike.


    ¡°Andy was right. They¡¯ll chase us, and we¡¯re not as fast. We can¡¯t keep running.¡± She clenched her fists, yellow light forming in the centre. ¡°They won¡¯t expect this, not so soon, not here. They¡¯ll think we¡¯ve fled.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s more like it,¡± Andy said. ¡°But erm, I¡¯m running a bit low on ammo.¡±


    ¡°Do what you can,¡± Clara said. ¡°Target the battlewagons. I¡¯ve got a plan for the bikes, but the wagons... You need to stop them before they reach us. Can you do that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Andy grinned. ¡°They don¡¯t know who they¡¯re dealing with.¡±


    Clara¡¯s face was grave. ¡°They will soon.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I reckon so.¡±


    ¡°As soon as I throw up a flare, get off the ground. Don¡¯t get caught in the blast zone.¡±


    The air thrummed with engine howls and the battlewagon bellows as the pack of machines neared. Andy whistled. ¡°That¡¯s some last stand shit, right there.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a last stand,¡± Clara said. ¡°It¡¯s a plan.¡±

 Chapter 72 - Last Stand II

    Headlamps lit the mile-long road like distant alien probes, first just a couple of scouts, but before long, an invasion fleet. They sped over the golden road, growing brighter, a steady drumroll of engines, crescendoing until the cold night air vibrated in sympathy. Andy perched in a spindly tree that had broken through the roadside¡¯s golden shell. The sapling could barely hold his weight, but Clara insisted he get his feet off the ground for what she was about to do. She crouched on the opposite side of the road behind the rubble of a dilapidated billboard. Gabe had disappeared into the young forest to find a branch thick enough to hold his weight, good riddance that he was out of the way.


    As the leading motorbike approached, the illusion of distance made it seem like it was speeding up. It flew past them, but Clara remained hidden. Two more raced past their position without spotting them, then Clara jumped out of cover into the middle of the road ahead of the main pack and slammed her hands into the floor. A crackle of blue lightning washed over the road in a shockwave, fizzing at the forerider¡¯s wheels. But it wasn¡¯t enough, the blast dissipated like a bunk match. The pop of gunfire chirped like a mechanical carrion bird, spitting low-calibre bullets into their position. Many more of the bikers swung melee weapons above their heads, like swords in the hands of cavalry, racing close enough to kill.


    Clara raised her hands to the heavens as though she was trying to drag the sky to the ground, then thrust her palms into the road again and screamed. The shockwave expanded to reach the pavement beneath Andy¡¯s feet, licking at the soles of his shoes. It travelled through the golden road like a flame tossed into a puddle of gasoline, dousing the motorbikes in sparks. The foreriders let go of their handlebars and dropped their weapons, spinning out of control. Their bodies were too stiff and spasming to break their fall and protect their heads. They crumpled on the road as Clara dodged their smoking vehicles skidding past her. But more were coming, and those they had allowed to pass were turning around. Divided from the main group of bikes, they would make easy pickings for Andy. Hopping down from his tree and unslinging his shotgun, but froze with shock. Clara was going for another burst.


    Andy dropped the shotgun and scrambled back into the branches as the world erupted around him. The smallest of the trees around him burst open like grenades, spraying him with splinters. Andy craned his head, squinting as another tree exploded nearby, but couldn¡¯t see Clara, except for the phosphorus glow in the centre of the road, shrieking with rage, hurling blue sparks across the golden landscape. Unable to break in time, the pack of bikes collided with her radiant storm. Energised appendages clawed at them like skeletal fingers sent from the underworld, ripping the riders from their steeds, pulling them into the raging abyss. One engine exploded in a fireball as the vehicle spun head over tail, crashing into the treeline. Andy clung to his sapling liferaft. The ground beneath him was awash in a deadly current, clawing at his boots, splashing him with painful stabbing sparks. Every hair on his body stood erect, like miniature pylons, reaching out to bridge the gap between him and certain death. Heartstopping electricity ran up his spine, tickling his brain. His mouth stung like he¡¯d chewed a nettle and tears welled in his eyes.


    Finally, the storm died down. Andy jumped out of his perch, retrieved his shotgun, and ran over to Clara. Errant sparks flickered over the golden road and rubble piled beside it. His sister drooped on her knees, head in her chest. Andy was hesitant to put his hand on her shoulder. ¡°You good, sis?¡±


    She didn¡¯t respond. Clenching, expecting a shock, Andy took her underarm and dragged her into the cover of the young forest. All around them, bodies lay limp, twisted and broken, or otherwise unnaturally stiff. Andy stepped over a man whose arms and legs were straight at his sides as though he was impersonating a fish. His jaw was clenched shut, his eyeballs bulging, a white foam speckling his blue lips. The cool lakeside air was suddenly sodden with the smell of burned rubber and expelled bowles.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± Clara said, short of breath.


    Andy set her down and scanned the road. The bikes they had let pass were now mere blips of light on the highway, fleeing or otherwise keeping their distance. He chuckled. He bet it looked like a nightmare from where they stood. But the fight wasn¡¯t over yet. Looking back towards the city, about half a mile down the long road, two battlewagons brought up the rear of the convoy. They were slower than the bikes, better armoured, more powerful. Clara couldn¡¯t ride in her condition, whether or not their motorbike¡¯s electronics were still operational. They were out of tricks, revealed and exposed, facing an insurmountable enemy with nowhere to run or hide. Now that was some last stand shit.


    Andy checked the chamber of his bolt action rifle, assessing its weight to make sure his maths was correct. Three rounds left. The shotgun was double-barrelled with seven spare shells, but it wasn¡¯t the quickest to reload. He had no grenades, no machine guns, no Julie. It would have to do.


    Andy took aim at the oncoming battlewagons, placing his iron sights between the frontmosts¡¯ headlights like the spot between a person¡¯s eyes. ¡°What am I looking at here, robot?¡±


    Affinity weapon absent. Combat options limited.


    ¡°I know that,¡± Andy hissed. ¡°Do an analysis or something, tell me its weak spot.¡± Andy settled the butt of the rifle into his shoulder, flexing and relaxing. The muzzle rose steadily with his breath. He took his finger off the guard and placed it on the trigger.


    Recent memory indicates that the target is equipped with frontside armoured plating, a reinforced hull and protected wheels.


    ¡°Weakspot robot, I won¡¯t say it again.¡±


    A visibility slit in the driver¡¯s side window may expose the occupant, however, current engagement range exceeds effective parameters. Hold fire advised.


    ¡°Thanks for the encouragement.¡± Andy pulled the trigger. The rifle kicked back as the bullet sped down the road, its trajectory lost in the battlewagons¡¯ bright headlamps. ¡°Was I near?¡±


    Visual compromised. Target is outside effective engagement range. Likelihood of success: Mitigatable.


    Andy licked his lips, a familiar metallic taste in his mouth. His Augmentation¡¯s Marksman combat hormones were trickling into his veins, calming him, improving his senses. He aimed a little higher to account for the bullet drop, nudged the muzzle slightly right towards the driver¡¯s side and fired. Straight away, he felt that it wasn¡¯t perfect. A couple seconds later, he sighted the bullet pinging off the battlewagon¡¯s front armoured plating, scratching the paint job slightly. Andy sighed. ¡°One more.¡±


    Ammunition limited. Hold fire is advised.


    ¡°Yeah? If they get closer, they¡¯ll outgun me anyway.¡± Andy cocked the bolt, loading his final round. This was it then. The pop of distant gunfire echoed down the road as the battlewagons returned his greeting gesture. In a minute, they¡¯d be on him, and he¡¯d have to resort to taking on two tanks with a double barrel shotgun. He didn¡¯t like those odds.


    But Andy didn¡¯t feel hopeless. Not yet. More miraculous things had happened in this world.


    An accurate shot is currently implausible.


    ¡°Would you say impossible?¡±


    Affirmative.


    Andy aimed his rifle like it was the finger of death, closed his eyes and fired. He exhaled, as a shiver ran through him. Perfection. The sound of tires shrieking came right on cue. Andy opened his eyes. The frontmost battlewagon had veered into the roadside verge, swerving to correct itself. But the turn was too fast, the machine too heavy. The wheels along one flank lifted off the road. The wagon behind it slammed into its belly, dozer blade toppling it like a rhino. Sparks erupted beneath the wagon like it was being welded into the road as it screeched atop the gold, a harrowing cry of machine anguish and death. Like a dying animal, the screeching diminished to a whimper and it slid to a stop.


    Andy clenched his fists and whooped. ¡°That¡¯s what you get,¡± he screamed. ¡°Impossible, they said. It couldn¡¯t be done. Where you at now, robot?¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Calculating.


    ¡°Yeah, calculate my arse.¡± Andy slung the rifle over his shoulder and crouched next to Clara. ¡°Tell me you saw that.¡±


    Her head bobbed as she lifted it to look him in the eye. Though fatigued, her eyes sparkled as they always had. ¡°Nice shot, bro.¡±


    ¡°Too right, nice shot. Shot of the century. Shot of the apocalypse. I closed my eyes and all. Did you notice that I closed my eyes?¡±


    Something crashed through the canopy above him. Andy slung his shotgun around, Killer Instinct triggering, but as he fired, the muzzle of the shotgun was flung aside, and a boot collided with his head. Andy¡¯s fingers clamped around the shotgun¡¯s butt as he scrambled to his feet, but a force like a car drove into his chest, flinging him through the air. He landed and rolled with the impact, skidding to his knees on the golden road beside the forest. Levitating above Clara¡¯s head was his nemesis: Double Denim, back for more, a cane in one hand and Julie unfaithfully at his hip.


    Andy fired again with Enhanced Precision, aiming to turn Double-D¡¯s head into a spray of mist, but the man stuck out his hand like he was doing a karate chop and split the shotgun¡¯s blast down the centre. Ball bearings scattered either side of his face, but a little of the shot connected, peppering the shoulder of his denim jacket. His nemesis didn¡¯t flinch, punching the air, projecting something with his mystical telekinesis powers. Andy leapt aside, fishing in his pocket for more shells. His feet got swept up in the invisible blast, but he was already rolling and reloading, and getting to his feet. Something struck Andy in the gut, forcing him to his knees, but he fired back twice. The first shot was deflected, but the second tore into Double-D¡¯s arm.


    The man screamed, pain and fury combining into a fierce snarl.


    Andy darted into the cover of rubble, snapping the barrel to insert two more shells, but suddenly the shotgun was torn from his grasp. Andy¡¯s fingers closed around the strap before it could get away from him as the shotgun seemed suspended in the air between him and Double Denim. Then a hail of rubble smashed into the side of Andy¡¯s head. He released the strap to protect his face as the barrage continued. Andy was unarmed, but not without a fight. The metallic taste of his Augmentation¡¯s steroids thickened like a broth, sickly sweet. His gut howled with a carnal hunger. A fire swept through his veins as a Killing Frenzy purified his blood, and set him alight.


    Andy launched towards the floating vestige of meat, fingernails like scalpels to open arteries, his jaw desperate for the clench of flesh. The man rose into the air, but not far enough. Andy leapt and grabbed his boot, dragging him to the ground. There, he writhed and struck out, blasting Andy with hammer after hammer of blows. But each attack felt padded, muffled by Andy¡¯s rage. He clawed open the man¡¯s jacket, exposing his chest beneath, boering like a rat, frenzied to disembowel his prey.


    An impact, and blackness coated Andy¡¯s vision. Fireworks burst behind his eyes. Andy blinked, back on his feet before he realised that he¡¯d hit the ground, then another blow struck him, cracking his jaw loose from his skull. Andy staggered, then his knee snapped backwards and he fell. He snarled, but the pain spread through him like wildfire, difficult to ignore. Andy rose to one knee, gathering his strength for one last effort, when he came face to muzzle with his beloved Julie, and all of the will to fight drained from him.


    ¡°You¡¯re beat,¡± Double Denim growled. His cheek was torn open and blood was flowing over his chin. His unruly blonde hair obscured one of his eyes, the other glowered at Andy wide with fear and intensity. ¡°Must I spill your blood, beast? It is more valuable than you could know.¡±


    ¡°Babe,¡± Andy said, clutching his jaw, barely able to speak. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Double Denim said. ¡°You tell me why. It was your decision. I offered you sanctuary, wealth, work. All of this destruction¡­ what is it for?¡±


    ¡°Why him?¡± Andy stretched his hand out, but couldn¡¯t bear to use his Augmentation¡¯s Fatal Attraction powers to summon Julie to him. She had to make the choice for herself.


    Suddenly, Double-D¡¯s hand snapped out as a gunshot rang down the road. Andy detected the bullet veering off at the last moment, narrowly avoiding his heart, punching through the hem of his denim jacket. Before Clara could get off another shot, Double-D struck out like throwing an invisible noose and dragged her to the ground. The pistol she had salvaged scattered out of her hands over the golden road.


    ¡°Cow,¡± his nemesis said. ¡°Know when you are defeated.¡±


    Clara rose on shakily legs and staggered towards Andy, then fell once more. ¡°Please stop, don¡¯t kill him.¡±


    Double Denim didn¡¯t turn to her, only planted his copper-wiring staff into the ground and held Julie level with Andy¡¯s face. ¡°I am sorry, Clara. This one is beyond my help.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t. Please don¡¯t.¡± Clara¡¯s voice was harsh with desperation. ¡°We¡¯ll join you. We¡¯ll do anything.¡±


    ¡°It is too late, Clara. You betrayed my trust. You killed my sapes, my men, who I am obliged to protect.¡± His jaw was clenched, voice tight with fury. ¡°Your freedom shall be revoked, but do not worry, your blood is too valuable to spill. You will serve the nation, one way or another.¡±


    Planting a hand on his knee, Andy rose to his feet and spread his arms out wide. Julie¡¯s muzzle remained still, pointing now at his chest. ¡°You won¡¯t do it, babe.¡±


    ¡°What,¡± Double Denim said. ¡°Do you think that you are immune to being shot?¡±


    Andy lifted his chin. ¡°I have faith.¡±


    Behind Julie, Double Denim snarled. ¡°I checked the cylinder. I¡¯m not stupid. You are not the only person who knows how to shoot a gun, Andrew.¡±


    ¡°I know we¡¯ve been through a rough patch,¡± Andy said. ¡°But me and you babe, we¡¯re meant forever.¡±


    ¡°Delusional,¡± Double-D said. ¡°Die now, dog.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me, but do you mind not interrupting-¡±


    Suddenly Julie roared at him as her hammer struck the primer. The bullet smashed into Andy¡¯s right-side chest, putting him back on his arse. Her vitriolic outburst was more painful than any wound Andy had ever received before.


    ¡°Andy!¡± Clara screamed, and suddenly he was in his sister¡¯s arms, gazing up at the night¡¯s sky.


    Andy groaned and clenched his teeth. ¡°Okay,¡± he managed. ¡°I deserve that.¡± Sitting upright and knelt before Julie, held in the grotty hands of Double Denim. ¡°I should never have doubted you¡­ never have let you leave my side.¡± Andy swallowed, tasting blood. ¡°But haven¡¯t I suffered enough?¡±


    ¡°Your suffering is of little consequence,¡± Double Denim interrupted. ¡°I cannot train you, and you only poison the girl. It is a shame, but it is necessary.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the only one for me, Julie,¡± Andy said. ¡°You have to know that. These cool new vampire powers¡­ the going mad and sucking blood¡­ it¡¯s all just a fling, I swear.¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t kill him,¡± Clara said. ¡°I need him. I won¡¯t cooperate if you do.¡±


    Double Denim shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s too late.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me,¡± Andy said, heart swelling in his chest, beating louder with every gush of blood that spurted from his gunshot wound. ¡°I know I¡¯m hard to be with, but that¡¯s why I need you.¡±


    ¡°Look at you,¡± his nemesis interjected. ¡°You are a disgrace. A waste of an Augmentation. There is no greater sin. If I could drain the serum out of you and repurpose your powers, perhaps there would be a reason for your life. But however, I cannot. This is the end, Andrew.¡±


    ¡°No, wait,¡± Clara blurted. ¡°Please wait.¡±


    ¡°Say goodbye.¡±


    Andy braced himself for words he couldn¡¯t remember having ever said before. ¡°Julie¡­¡±He took the leap. ¡°I love you.¡±


    His beautiful revolver¡¯s trigger was pulled. The hammer cocked as the cylinder spun to chamber a fresh round. Then, with a horrible popping sound like a dislocated limb, Julie detonated in Double Denim¡¯s hand. Julie freed herself from his grasp as Double-D screamed and bent over in pain, clutching his injured hand.


    Bloodlust swept over Andy. He leapt up on his one good leg and caught his nemesis by the neck, digging his nails in, exposing his trachea. But Double Denim still had strength. He pulled away as Andy¡¯s broken jaw fumbled around his throat. Andy tightened his grip, clinging to Double Denim¡¯s neck with viper claws. His nemesis pushed Andy¡¯s face back, the blood on his injured hand getting smooshed into Andy¡¯s broken jaw. Ignoring the call of pain, Andy withdrew the spearhead of gold which he had sharpened in his cell and drove the point through his prey¡¯s eye. Double Denim convulsed and grasped in agony, struggling to breathe, but Andy bore the improvised blade deeper. Andy¡¯s jaws closed around the man¡¯s neck, canines dug into flesh.


    The lever of a pistol sounded somewhere in the depths of Andy¡¯s hunger. It was impossible to ignore. Andy glanced up from his carnivorous coil at Clara, standing above the two of them, pistol in hand.


    ¡°Andy,¡± she said. ¡°One moment, if you would.¡±


    Andy licked the taste of blood off his lips and staggered back panting. He was bathed in sweat and a good deal of his own blood.


    ¡°Why?¡± Double Denim croaked, cowering beneath Clara. ¡°I offered you everything. Why do you treat me like this?¡± His voice rose to a shrill, but the effort drained him. He lay on the ground, golden dagger protruding from his eye, throat sliced open. ¡°We could have been together,¡± he whispered. ¡°Started a family. Children.¡± His lips continued to move, but no sound came out.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing personal,¡± Clara said, pointing the pistol at his head. ¡°We¡¯re just mercenaries.¡±


    ¡°Your secret¡­ will not die with me¡­¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Clara said. ¡°It¡¯s a little personal.¡±


    Andy¡¯s sister pulled the trigger, and the wasteland¡¯s night was returned its cold silence.

 Chapter 73 - Cracking Shot

    Clara closed her eyes and turned away from the corpses. She¡¯d had no option. They wouldn¡¯t leave her alone. The New Patricians could use whatever flowery language and fancy manifesto they wanted, but she wasn¡¯t fooled. They saw her and Andy as a resource. They would use them up, punish them if they strayed, and discard them once they were spent. All factions were like that, that¡¯s why she and Andy were mercenaries. It was the only way to be free.


    Clara rubbed her small silver watch, eyes pinned on the road. She inspected the crashed battlewagons just over a mile down the road and estimated that everyone inside was either dead or concussed. The New Patricians didn¡¯t seem to be making any advances towards them. Likely, they¡¯d had the fight knocked out of them, their men dead, their leader killed. Or one of their leaders, at least. There were still two more Augmented Patricians nearby: Vincent, Crane and his oddly mutated underlings. She wasn¡¯t certain of their Augmentation¡¯s powers, but no doubt, they knew everything about her and Andy now.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± she asked Andy. He sat on his knees, clutching his gunshot wound, admiring Alister¡¯s corpse.


    ¡°Yeah. Woozy.¡± Suddenly, his eyes snapped into focus. ¡°Julie.¡± Crawling on one hand over to his revolver, he picked the gun up and cradled it in his lap like a wounded puppy. ¡°Oh god, Julie. Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°Ugh.¡± He was fine. Trudging down the road, Clara sought Gabriel and the hidden motorbike. Emerging from the trees, their brightly dressed companion fretted over her wounds, but Clara barely registered any of it. She checked the bike¡¯s engine still worked, then got Gabriel to help her wheel it over to the road.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be alright, baby,¡± Andy cooed over his gun. The cylinder was crooked and ashen, the hammer loose on its pin.


    ¡°You lucky son of a bitch,¡± Clara said, slouching beside him.


    ¡°Luck?¡± He scoffed, sounding more offended than Clara had ever heard him. ¡°This wasn¡¯t luck. Julie sacrificed her body for me. Look at her¡­¡± His voice choked as what seemed like real tears welded in his bloodshot eyes.


    Clara glanced at the revolver suspiciously. For a moment, she entertained the idea that Andy had been right all along¨Cthat his revolver had somehow become sentient, something to do with his Augmentation¡¯s powers¡­ No, that was stupid. It didn¡¯t coincide with any of the other crazy rules of the apocalypses. However, maybe Andy was an outlier¡­


    No. Clara shook her head. She was wary, but not as crazy as her brother yet. ¡°We¡¯ll get her fixed up,¡± she reassured him, entertaining the feminine pronoun for once, if only to sooth his broken heart.


    In the distance down the road, figures gathered around the overturned battlewagon. Clara could hear their distant voices shouting to one another, and engines disappearing into the Golden City.


    ¡°Let me see that,¡± Clara said, fishing in her rucksack for a bandage. She tried to remove Andy¡¯s arm from his jacket to inspect his chest wound, but the pain was too much for him.


    Cursing through gritted teeth, he pulled away. ¡°Nope, ain¡¯t happening.¡±


    ¡°Does it hurt?¡± Gabriel asked. He was standing nearby, hands crossed over his stomach like a nervous child.


    ¡°Course it fuckin hurts,¡± Andy said.


    ¡°We¡¯re gonna have to cut you out,¡± Clara said.


    ¡°Aww.¡± Andy¡¯s face sank. ¡°The jacket too?¡±


    Clara drew a small knife from her bag and cut his collar and down the back of the shoulder, widening the tear so that she could pull the leather down over his shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s cause you don¡¯t look after your gear,¡± Clara said, applying every pad that her small med kit possessed to the exit wound, and wrapped the bandage.


    ¡°What is?¡± he said.


    ¡°The backfire.¡±


    ¡°Julie?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, whatever.¡±


    ¡°Backfire?¡± Andy said. ¡°She saved my life.¡±


    ¡°She missfired. I mean¡­ it did. You don¡¯t clean your weapons enough. I always have to do it for you.¡±


    Andy shook his head solemnly. ¡°Dear Clara, sister o¡¯ mine. You could never understand the love between us.¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡± Clara tied the knot on the bandage, but already blood was soaking through. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to alarm you, but¡­ How are you still alive?¡±


    ¡°I dunno. There¡¯s something I¡¯ve gotta do, sis. I don¡¯t want you to watch.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Andy nodded at Alister¡¯s corpse. ¡°Heal up.¡±


    ¡°Eww.¡±


    ¡°Stop.¡± Andy¡¯s voice was just barely on his breath. ¡°It¡¯s that or I die.¡± He hesitated, and then held his broken revolver out to her. ¡°Julie shouldn¡¯t see this either. Not while she¡¯s weak. Take her.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Clara pocketed the gun and paced down the road to give Andy his privacy, taken a seat atop a discarded motorbike. Firing the Teslatic Wave had taken all of her strength and concentration. She¡¯d never channelled the ability for that long before, and never known she could until she tried. Her vision was still blurry from the exertion as flushes of heat throbbed through her limbs. She was drenched in sweat. The muscles in her arms spasmed, her fist clenched and unclenched against her will. But it had worked. The gold was superconductive, just as she¡¯d predicted, and she¡¯d managed to maintain the burst enough to do some serious damage.


    A body lay twisted in the gutter. Clara averted her eyes, the glow of victory fading from her chest. She had spent her life avoiding killing people, but in just one night, she¡¯d dealt a lifetime¡¯s worth of death. This new power she possessed gave her the ability to make extraordinary choices. A dozen lives or more, traded for hers and Andy¡¯s. It was difficult to fathom. It was inhuman. She felt sick, but still, she couldn¡¯t think of anything she could have done differently.


    And should she do more? The refugees from the vault were still inside the Golden City, beleaguered and stranded in the horrible wasteland, destined to bolster the ranks of fishermen and slaves kept by the New Patricians to sustain their ambitions. If she could, she¡¯d set them all free, give them all a rifle, let them decide their own futures. But it wasn¡¯t that simple. Few people were as lucky as her and Andy. Few would survive without safety in numbers, and the oversight of the Patricians¡¯ military. Those who had the strength to would find their own way to escape. That was the best she could hope for. Perhaps she¡¯d return another day, with another plan. But at least she¡¯d gotten Gabriel out of there.


    Forcing her muscles to move, Clara withdrew her wrist terminal from her rucksack and latched it to her arm, soothed by its familiar weight. She checked their coordinates. They were about a day¡¯s ride north of Gabriel¡¯s bunker. The journey took them back through the plague of toads territory, east past Milltown, and down into the woods of fae creatures. It would be slow with their injuries, but nothing they couldn¡¯t handle. Clara¡¯s finger hovered over the marker for Milltown, trying to think of a reason why they could stop off and rest there, but the New Patricians would have spies. It wasn¡¯t safe there. It wasn¡¯t safe anywhere except Gabriel¡¯s grimy little hole in the ground.


    Behind her, Andy murmured with delight, seemingly enjoying his meal. Clara made a point of not turning to look, when Gabriel wandered over to her side, his dark skin was coated in a sickly pale sheen.


    ¡°What¡¯s he doing?¡± he said.


    Clara shrugged and patted the bike beside her, inviting him to sit. ¡°Drinking.¡±


    Gabriel¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You don¡¯t both do that, do you?¡±


    ¡°Just him.¡±


    Gabriel pointed a finger at her then froze. ¡°Wait¡­ Are you the bad guys?¡±


    Clara snorted. ¡°We¡¯re just the guys. Hey, I saved your ass didn¡¯t I? And Alister¡­¡± she shuddered. ¡°DO you know what he wanted with us? Do you know why he was so persistent? He wanted to breed me.¡± Clara¡¯s mouth grew dry as her stomach turned at the thought. Just another horror to push to the back of her mind.


    Gabriel¡¯s eyes bulged as he stared at one of the roadside corpses. ¡°Ew.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, right. Can¡¯t say I¡¯m upset that he¡¯s dead.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    He swallowed, then took a seat on the bike beside her, dusting a dry leaf off his cargo shorts and straightening his shirt. ¡°Erm. What¡¯s the plan-io?¡±


    ¡°Can you drive a bike?¡±


    ¡°Ye¨C A motorbike?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then all three of us are going to have to share. Are we still cool to crash in your bunker?¡±


    Gabriel hesitated. Behind them, Andy slurped up the silence.


    ¡°Well?¡± Clara pressed.


    ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s coolio.¡±


    Clara propped the motorcycle up and stowed her rucksack. ¡°Andy, you done yet?¡±


    ¡°Just a sec,¡± he said with his mouth full.


    As Clara mounted the front, Gabriel stood beside the bike, fidgeting. Clara laughed. Even faced with death and blood-sucking horrors, the techie managed to maintain a uniquely awkward aura. ¡°Hop on.¡±


    Gabriel gamely climbed on board.


    ¡°Thanks, by the way,¡± Clara said. ¡°For saving us in the vault. I don¡¯t know if I mentioned it before.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he muttered, shifting closer on the seat behind her, chest pressed against her back.


    ¡°No, really, not many people would have rescued us.¡± Clara twisted around, catching him in the corner of her eye. ¡°It was pretty badass.¡±


    He smiled, hiding his face in his unruly fringe. ¡°A friend gave me some good advice.¡±


    ¡°You know, we work pretty well together,¡± Clara said. ¡°Have you ever thought about being a mercenary?¡±


    Gabriel¡¯s eyes went wide as he rattled his head. ¡°No. No, not for me. No thank you.¡±


    ¡°What about, say¡­ an accomplice?¡±


    ¡°In what regards?¡±


    ¡°Call it tech support. We¡¯ll need to find a new employer soon and it was pretty handy having you on the end of the radio. Plus, we need a base of operations¨Cmore than just a short-term stay. We¡¯ll give you a fair cut of what we earn. Although, I¡¯m going to have to teach you about airwaves etiquette.¡±


    Gabriel glanced at her, then averted his eyes to the battlewagon wreckage down the road. There were shapes moving amongst the wreckage, but none were coming any closer. Still, Clara felt that they had lingered long enough.


    ¡°What do you say then?¡± Clara said, mounting the front seat.


    ¡°So long as I don¡¯t have to leave my bunker, ever again.¡±


    ¡°Not if you don¡¯t want to.¡±


    Andy wiped his lips and climbed onboard, then they set off into the night. Clara followed the directions on her terminal through old mountain roads. The world outside their motorbike¡¯s headlamps and engine¡¯s rumble melted away, as though the three of them existed inside a bubble, alone in the wasteland.


    As the sun rose, Clara stopped inside the mouth of an open-air tunnel which bordered the mountainside. Wheeling their motorbike inside, she scanned the skies for prying eyes. She guessed that the Patricians had used drones to track them before, likely combined with eyes on the ground. They might be following now.


    Holding her breath, the air was quiet. Below her, the valley plummeted into a lake, concealed by the high tops of evergreen trees. A blackbird flittered amongst the high branches, chirping with delight. The sun shone warmly off icy crystals clinging to the high rocks above her head. Clara closed one eye, blocking an electrical pylon from view, and at once was absorbed by the beauty of nature. The concrete parapet felt rough in her hands as she leaned over the edge, taking a cool breath of the moist mountain air.


    ¡°Are you sure you know where you¡¯re going?¡± Gabriel said behind her. ¡°Because I feel like we¡¯re lost.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Clara said, not for the first time. Sighing, she turned from the valley view, and unpacked their medical supplies to treat Andy¡¯s wounds. He had dismounted, and was sitting in the shade of the tunnel, eyes closed, breathing softly.


    ¡°Oh!¡± Gabriel exclaimed. ¡°I neglected to mention. So much has been going on, but you¡¯ll never believe it. I couldn¡¯t find the right time to say, I knew that it would require some explaining. But my gnome, I repainted it and brought it to life.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s nice,¡± Clara said absently as she pried Andy away from his leather jacket to dress the wounds up his arms. The lacerations caused by the shadow demon had swollen to an ugly purple, whilst his fresh cuts and bruises glistened red. The gunshot wound concerned her the most, taken in the stomach. Seemingly, the blood he¡¯d gorged on was replenishing his own, keeping him alive.


    He stirred, licking his lips.


    ¡°There¡¯s no booze,¡± Clara said preemptively. ¡°Just these.¡± She tapped a couple strong painkillers into her hand and popped them in his mouth, carefully pouring him a sip of water.


    Andy sighed, and his fingers brushed her arm. He squeezed gently, then drifted elsewhere, head slumping in his chest.


    ¡°Truly, I couldn¡¯t believe it myself,¡± Gabriel was rambling behind her, though Clara hadn¡¯t been listening. ¡°Part of me thinks I may have just gone mad, but you¡¯ll see when we arrive back at my home.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Clara said. ¡°How do you feel?¡± she asked Andy.


    ¡°Weird,¡± he murmured. ¡°Shattered, but tingly. I can¡¯t pass out. It¡¯s weird.¡±


    ¡°How are you alive?¡± Clara breathed.


    ¡°Ecstasy,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s like a three day fet binge.¡±


    ¡°Well, shout me if you feel like you¡¯re going to pass out.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    Clara repacked the bike, but it felt wrong leaving the pile of bloody bandages by the roadside¨Cthere was a bit of Andy in there. His DNA, the Augmentation, the mutation. Scrunching them up, she tossed them out of the tunnel¡¯s large window. They broke apart as they fluttered to the treetops¨Ca stain on the pristine landscape.


    By nightfall, they made it back to Gabriel¡¯s bunker. Dismounting, Clara unloaded their gear and rolled the bike off the roadside verge. It tumbled down the cliff face, colliding with trees until it was out of sight. Anyone tracking them would have a hard time spotting it. It wasn¡¯t thorough, but she was too tired to be thorough. All she could think about was bed. Andy used his double-barrel shotgun as a walking stick as they climbed the steep verge, the empty bolt-action rifle strapped over his shoulder. Clara kept her pistol at the ready, scanning the dim forest, praying that the apocalypses would give them a night off. Just one night off.


    Blessedly, they reached the bunker without any more surprises. Tapping the control panel, Gabriel opened the outer door and slid inside. Andy strode ahead as she and Gabriel stayed behind to lock up. Once the door was bolted, Clara descended the short spiral staircase underground into darkness. Too exhausted to summon a Guiding Light, she waited while Gabriel stumbled through the cluttered darkness for a light switch.


    ¡°Plodder, we¡¯re home,¡± Gabriel announced. ¡°United at last. No longer a trio, now a quadrat, to brave the wastelands together.¡±


    Clara scowled, trying to make sense of his ramblings. She dropped her backpack where she stood as the lights flickered on. Andy was already sitting on the bed, head in his arms, shotgun resting upright beside him. She strode over to the bed when something unusual caught her eye. A porcelain gnome leant against a pillow behind Andy, hands clasped over its belly. The figurine seemed to be looking right at her. A primitive panic flickered through Clara. Her fingers tingled with electricity, yet she held her breath.


    ¡°Gabe,¡± Clara said warily. ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Plodder,¡± he announced excitedly.


    The gnome moved by itself, extending its hands outwards. Clara stared, stupefied. Andy glanced at Gabriel with a tired, dismissive expression, unaware of the porcelain entity behind him.


    ¡°Greetings!¡± The gnome figurine announced boisterously. Andy jolted like a cat, springing into the air. ¡°I¡¯m so excited to-¡±


    Andy¡¯s shotgun boomed. The gnome exploded. Gabriel screamed, half falling to his knees, staggering with grief.


    ¡°What was that thing?¡± Andy¡¯s trained his shotgun wide-eyed on the bed. ¡°Damn, that made me jump.¡±


    ¡°Plodder,¡± Gabriel wailed, flinging himself at Andy¡¯s feet. ¡°Oh god. Why did you kill him?¡±


    ¡°Kill it?¡± Andy said. ¡°Was that your pet?¡±


    ¡°He was my friend!¡±


    ¡°You should have warned me,¡± Andy said, mimicking Gabriel¡¯s screeching pitch. Shoving him aside, Andy slouched in a chair, letting the shotgun dangle at his side. ¡°I have this thing called a reflex shot, you know. It goes off when I¡¯m spooked.¡±


    ¡°You monster,¡± Gabriel wailed, scrambling onto the bed, picking through the gnome¡¯s remains.


    ¡°Was that-¡± Clara started. ¡°Was that thing alive?¡±


    Gabriel turned to her aghast, tears welling in his eyes. ¡°He was my friend.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant,¡± Clara said. ¡°Well done, Andy. How long was that? Five seconds before you murdered someone?¡±


    ¡°New record,¡± Andy winked. ¡°Oh lighten up, it¡¯s only a gnome.¡±


    ¡°Only a gnome?¡± Gabriel shrieked. ¡°He had more of a heart than you, psychopath.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Andy muttered. ¡°Fair play.¡±


    ¡°Get out,¡± Gabriel cried. ¡°Go away.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Come on Andy,¡± Clara said. ¡°Give Gabe some space.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me explain it.¡±


    ¡°You monster,¡± Gabriel sobbed.


    Clara approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°I think you better sleep upstairs.¡±


    ¡°Aww, really?¡± Andy said.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault. I thought he had a gun,¡± Andy said, straight-faced.


    Clara scowled. ¡°No you didn¡¯t.¡±


    A grin cracked over Andy¡¯s face. ¡°Alright, fair enough... But I did think it was evil.¡±


    ¡°Get out,¡± Gabriel hissed.


    ¡°Go on,¡± Clara added, nodding towards the stairwell. ¡°Give Gabriel some space.¡±


    Andy rose reluctantly and treaded to the stairwell. He stopped on the bottom steps, looking back towards the bed. ¡°Listen Gabe, I''m sorry.¡±


    Gabriel remained kneeling on the bed above the porcelain corpse, refusing to look Andy in the eye.


    ¡°But you have to admit,¡± Andy said. ¡°It was a cracking shot.¡±


    Clara and Gabriel raised their voices in unison. ¡°Get out!¡±


    ¡°Hold on, I¡¯ve got more,¡± he said, tapping his skull. ¡°Shot him right in the gnome¡­. Dome. Get it?¡±


    Clara¡¯s fingers crackled with electrical energy as she gave Andy a death-stare.


    ¡°Alright, fine.¡±


    ¡°Why,¡± Gabriel sobbed. ¡°He only wanted good. He was so kind.¡±


    Clara resigned herself to Gariel¡¯s chair, swinging her feet up onto the desk. Pulling her cap over her face, she shut her eyes. Fifteen minutes later, Gabriel was still blubbering, gathering up the pieces of his gnome in a dustpan.


    ¡°Just¡­¡± Clara said. ¡°Can it wait?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± he asked, wiping away tears.


    ¡°I¡¯m exhausted. Can it wait?¡±


    ¡°Can what wait?¡±


    He was milking it now, but Clara bit her tongue. ¡°Never mind.¡± It was going to be a rough stay.