My head is on a swivel as I follow James outside the outpost. I can’t stop staring at the wall to the north. The size is all wrong, and my brain keeps refusing to believe it’s actually a wall and not some trick of the eye. Eventually, I know I’m going to find a way to go see it for myself, no matter how dangerous the others say it is.
Bugbug drifts behind us in his little craft. By now, I’m certain nobody else can see him, though I’m not in a hurry to admit I can. My best guess is they implanted something in my head. But if he was supposed to be here to help me, he’s utterly failing. All he does is follow me and occasionally repeat his extraction request.
James glances over his shoulder and makes an impatient gesture. “Come on, Garrick. We’re scouting, not sightseeing.”
I nod, pulling my eyes from the wall and the trees, jogging to catch up with him.
This morning, I woke too late and Lana snapped at me for it. An unmarked man named Josef chewed me out for ladling too much of the breakfast stew. Kato the Roman grunted something I couldn’t understand and shoved me bodily out of his way so he could do a squatting exercise in the snow. Every one of them treated me like I was a mild inconvenience instead of a threat.
In a weird way, it was like my own little version of the opening sequence from Home Alone. I know the others would probably think I was crazy for saying so, but I’m already loving my time in this new place, wherever it is. To them, it’s the end of everything. All I ever had was a skeleton and a TV and a calendar full of skulls.
“Any tips on figuring out my power?” I ask, voice muffled by my thick scarf.
James walks a few steps ahead, rifle held mid-stock, a long curved knife in his free hand for the branches that get in our way. Bugbug drifts behind us both, sullen, still pinging out his requests for extraction to a Central that never answers. I’d feel bad for the little guy if he weren’t such a grumpy asshole.
“I could kind of feel mine,” James says. “Hard to explain, but it was like an instinct.”
I try to move my awareness through my body, searching for anything out of the ordinary. The problem is it all feels unusual. I’ve never been cold like this before. Never worn heavy clothing. Never had the skin on my face prickling and going numb.
But I try to look past all that and think maybe there’s something wrong with my forearms. When I focus hard enough, I think I can sense a kind of fuzziness in both of them. Almost like static electricity, but the left feels different from the right in a way I can’t pin down.
“What are we scouting for, exactly?” I ask. “Lana never said.”
“Yeah, she’s not big on explanations. Says she used to be a CEO in her time. A health food company, I think?” James chuckles. “We didn’t have those in my time. Should’ve seen the shit they sent us for rations in the war. But I do miss the smokes. Fuck, I could use a smoke.”
“What about Frederick?” I ask.
James squints, as if he’s having trouble remembering. “Don’t think he said. The tie means he probably worked in an office. Or could’ve been a door-to-door salesman or something, I guess.”
“I still don’t understand how any of this is possible. People from different time periods in one place? How far back do you think they pulled from, anyway?”
“Frankly? I don’t give two shits, brother. Because my unit had a saying back where I come from. If you can’t point your gun at it and shoot it, then it’s a problem for another day. And all we have for certain is today. You follow?”
I shrug. “I think it’s worth trying to figure it all out. Like why do we have powers? What do all the markings mean? What do they want with us? Why is there a huge fucking wall, and why—”
James holds up his hand, cutting me off. “Look. You want to worry about that shit? Do it in the safety of the outpost. But out here, we need to stay sharp. So if you’ve got extra time on your hands while we’re out here, use it to figure out your power.”
I bite back the rest of my questions. “Alright. So you never said what we’re even looking for. You want me to stay sharp? Tell me how to help.”
“We’re walking a circle around the outpost. I walk it a little wider each day and note the kinds of tracks I see. Little by little, I’m getting an idea of the movements of our enemies out here.”
“Enemies?” I ask. “Like the people from the other outpost?”
“Yeah,” James says. “Them. And I’d be pretty shocked if there’s only one other outpost out there. Could be dozens. Hundreds. No way to know for now, but we do know our neighbors are hostile.”
I nod. At least that makes sense to me. All the cooperation and trust in our own outpost has been hard to accept, but the idea of violent neighbors? That has me feeling right at home.
“There are the animals, too,” James continues. “So far, we haven’t seen a single creature out here that won’t try to kill you. All the ones I’ve seen have been… fucked up in various ways. Hard to explain, but make sure you’re on your toes. No trying to pet the wildlife.”
“Alright. Can’t say I was planning on it.”
“The other threat is the empties. They’re like people, but wrong. Like the shit they fished up from lakes near where they tested atom bombs. Empties travel in packs, and they’re aggressive.”
“Violent neighbors, fucked up animals, and fucked up not-people…” I repeat. “Got it. Honestly, this doesn’t sound so different from where I come from.”
James eyes me. “Where do you come from, anyway?”
“After it all ends, I guess.”
“Do me a favor, don’t spoil the ending for me.”
“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” I admit. “Nobody remembers how it happened.”
He grunts, giving me another long look before turning and continuing to walk.
I keep my eyes out for signs in the snow, but I’m mostly trying to figure out what my power is. James said he felt an instinct, but all I feel is this damn tingling. If I strain my focus hard enough, it almost feels like my left arm is… hungry?
“Shit…” James breathes after we’ve been walking a few more minutes.
I pause, heart already pounding. Ahead, two people are talking.
Based on what he told me, I think that means we just stumbled upon a pair of our violent neighbors.
I grip the bow they’ve given me, hand squeezing around the rough wood. I have no experience firing a bow, but spare weapons were in short supply back at the outpost.
James looks at me, seeming to sense my lack of confidence with the bow. He draws the long knife from his belt, offering it to me, hilt first.
I nod my thanks, taking it and feeling marginally better.
“Stay behind me,” he mouths, lifting the rifle to his shoulder and squinting down the sight as he swivels, scanning the trees. He motions for me to follow him up a small hill. He kicks out a patch of snow for himself, then gets in a prone position, rifle aimed in the direction of the noise. I follow his lead, covering behind a tree and drawing an arrow.
My hands are shaking, and my confidence of hitting a damn thing with this bow is near-zero. That won’t stop me from trying, though.
“Two people,” he whispers, one eye squinted shut as he looks through his scope. “One looks like a knight. The other… can’t say.”
I wait, bracing for the noise of his rifle. But it doesn’t come after several seconds. “Why aren’t you shooting?”
He lifts his eye from the scope, looking at me. “They’ve been violent in the past. But we should try to talk first. See if they want to trade. Talk peace,” he adds, as if there are all sorts of logical reasons not to shoot them on sight.
“I don’t think we should trust them,” I say. My fingers dig into the wood, knuckles bright white. Memories of letting Earl into my bunker flash through my mind. For a few hours, I’d actually let myself believe I hadn’t made a mistake.
“I never said I trust them,” James whispers. “But I’m not going to kill them in cold blood.”
For a second, I consider leaving James where he is. If he wants to risk his life, that’s his own foolish choice. But something else itches at me. This is how people were. I saw it in the tapes plenty of times. Even when it was irrational and put them in danger, they would’ve done exactly what James was doing.
Jaw clenched, I decide I can do this. I’ll watch his back and let him handle this his way, even if it feels fucking insane.
“Yeah, well… I’m going to wait right over there. That way, if they try something, we’ll at least have a surprise ready.”
James stays in position as I do my best sneak-walk to a nearby tree, making myself small. I’ve got five arrows. If shit hits the fan, I figure I’ll try my luck with one shot from here. Then I’ll rush the bastards.
My chest feels tight, heart beating out of control. Life in my bunker was relatively soft compared to life topside. But that doesn’t mean it was easy. Every time I went out to trade, I was constantly having to make plans like this. Always plans on top of plans in case shit went sour, and it usually did.
It’s only a few seconds before the two men come into view. One is wrapped in animal pelts with a bald head and strange, completely white eyes. The other wears full plate armor with an animal skin cloak. There’s a huge sword strapped to his back.
They don’t see us, but they’re heading straight in our direction.
James fidgets, finger on the trigger of his gun. “Stop right there!” he calls out.
I hold my tongue, but wish he’d at least shoot one of them in the leg to improve our chances.
The bald man pauses. The soldier doesn’t. He keeps walking right toward James.
“Come out,” the armored man shouts. “You the one I heard about? Shot Lenny the other day in the ass with your little… gun. Was that you?”
“We don’t have to be enemies,” James calls back.
“No,” the soldier agrees. “But your outpost has marked ones. We know you do. So either let us have them, or we’re going to take them.”
“What do you want with marked ones?” James says.
My jaw ticks, teeth already aching from clenching so hard. Every second they talk, the men are getting closer, erasing the advantage of James’s gun.
“You don’t know?” the knight laughs. “We saw the walls come up around your outpost. Someone in there knows. I guess they haven’t told you because they’re still deciding if they want to keep you or spend you.”
Spend us? What the hell does that mean?
The bald one with clear eyes stops, tapping the knight’s shoulder and pointing straight through the trees and shrubs toward James. “There,” he says.
The knight says nothing. He just breaks into a dead sprint, metal plates clamoring as he moves far faster than anyone in full armor has any right to. There’s a sharp whisper of steel as he draws his sword, its edge blurring as if it’s growing hotter.
A gunshot splits the air, so loud snow rains down from nearby trees. The knight jerks sideways, glances at his hip, but somehow stays upright and keeps coming with a slight limping gait.
The knight is close enough that James will be lucky to get one more shot off. I know my arrow has no shot of punching through his armor, so I draw and aim for the bald man who is running at more normal speeds, a little ways behind the knight. I close one eye, steady my breath, and loose.
The arrow wobbles immediately, swerving several feet wide and landing sideways in the snow.
James stands at the top of the hill, face completely impassive as smoke drifts from the barrel of his rifle. “Next one goes between your eyes. I suggest you—fucker,” he grumbles when the knight keeps charging. He cocks his rifle, ejecting a red-hot cartridge into the snow.
I’ve got to help, or we’re both going to get killed.
The knight is running straight for James and the bald man isn’t far behind. From my position, I could cut off the bald man, at least. If nothing else, I can slow him down and give James time to get another shot ready.
I slide, half-stumbling down the hill. I’ve already slid the bow back over one shoulder and shifted my focus to the knife James gave me. I’m no warrior, but I can figure out how to work a knife.
He’s on me before I can raise my knife, driving a wooden spear with a stone tip up toward my throat. I stumble, feet slipping as I try to stop my momentum and avoid impaling myself on the spear. I fall back, accidentally dodging the first attack.
I roll to the side, trying not to cut myself with my own knife as he stabs at me, spear jamming into the snow. I bump against a raised embankment, eyes going wide as I see him pulling back to jab the spear through me.
It all happens so fast. There’s no time to register that I’m about to die or how to stop it. Instinct takes over and I raise both arms in front of my face, forming an “X.” Time seems to slow as he throws his weight into the attack. I brace for the pain, knowing the spear will punch through both my arms and then my neck.
But the spear skids off my forearm, bright blue and white light bursting from the impact. Sparks of magic fly away and there’s a sound like a knifepoint scraping across glass.
We both freeze for several seconds. Him staring at my arm, face going gray as if he’s recalculating the decision to fight me. I’m stunned, staring at my own arm, which still has a blueish sheen over the skin that ripples like water.
Then I notice my arm is throbbing, but not with pain. It’s a kind of… fullness. Before I can think harder about what that means, James fires his gun again. The sharp crack seems to shock me and my opponent back to focus.
He rears back again, spear aiming lower this time as he throws his body into a thrust. I try to step back, raising my arm again to block. There’s more light, sparks, and that horrible screeching sound, but no pain.
It’s my power. There’s no time to think about the specifics or start theorizing. All I know for now is that my forearms are impervious to this asshole’s spear, and that should be enough to win me the fight.
Up at the top of the hill, the knight is clutching his stomach, bleeding from the gunshots and moving far slower now. His free hand drags the sword behind him, its heated aura seeming to sputter and fade.
The bald man reaches in his boot and pulls out a small dagger, throwing it at me as he stands. I jerk my arms up, expecting the flash of light, but there’s only a cold thump as the knife imbeds itself in my right forearm. I’m still staring at it when he stabs at me again. I’ve dropped my knife and started stumbling back, but I manage to knock away his spear with my left arm. I wince, bracing for the bite of more metal, but the light comes again.
What the fuck?
I fall to my ass beside my dropped knife, picking it up with my left hand.
Left forearm blocks. Right forearm… does jack shit?
It’s not much, as far as theories, go, but I rise to my feet and charge him. My attack is clumsy, but the bald man hardly seems like he knows much about weapon combat, either. He tries to dodge, halfway trips over himself, and then my shoulder catches him in the chest.
He stumbles back, waving his spear wildly for balance as I fall to one knee.
The moment my knee touches the ground, there’s another crack from behind. I look up and see a small, dark red circle just below the bald man’s right eye. He stares at me, starts to lift a hand toward the spot, and then tips back.
I stare for a couple seconds, making sure he’s not about to get back up.
Dead. He’s definitely dead. I might even be relieved, but I look down at my right arm and stare at the dagger sticking straight through me. Gingerly, I turn my arm over and see its point coming out the underside of my forearm. Pain from the injury starts to creep in as the adrenaline fades.
My neck itches, and even without reaching to feel it, I have a sneaking suspicion the number on my neck just changed.
Beyond the pain, I feel something else. My left arm feels even more full than after the first block. The fullness feels like it’s snaking up my arm, cold as ice. I frown as I feel it pumping straight toward my heart. No… toward my core.
When I’m back to a normal number of holes in my body, I decide to sit down and figure out exactly how this all works. Now that I know the basics, I imagine I could get someone to help me test it in a less life threatening way.
James makes his way down the hill, rifle still aimed at the bald man’s corpse. Behind him, I see the knight is motionless, blood pooling in the snow. “This one finished?” James asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Do people with powers survive gunshot wounds to the brain?”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
“Probably dead, then. Fuck,” I groan between my teeth. The pain is still ratcheting up. I rolled my ankle pretty bad once, got stabbed a little in a disagreement over a trade, and once even got bit by a rodent that I’m pretty sure was mildly radioactive. But this is another level.
In a move I instantly regret, I yank the knife out of my arm and a strangled, garbled sound slips out of me. Blood patters to the snow, bright red and hot. “Ohhh, fuck,” I hiss through my teeth. Pain and nausea roll through me in thick waves. “I’m gonna die.”
James chuckles. I can hear him tearing fabric off the dead guy’s body. “You’re not going to die, brother. It’s just a little hole.”
“Little?” I ask, eyes bulging now. I hold up my arm and meet James’s eye through the wound. “We’re making eye contact. Through my fucking arm.”
“It’s a little slit. Not a hole,” he says. “I’ve seen worse.” He wraps a thin strip of cloth around my bicep and pulls it tight. “This will slow the bleeding. We’ve got something close to alcohol back at the outpost. It’ll burn like a son of a bitch, but that’ll get you disinfected.”
I’m having trouble thinking straight through the pain. I close my eyes, trying to focus as James finishes wrapping and bandaging me as well as he can. “There’s something we have to do before we go.”
“I thought you were about to die. Now you want to take your time?”
“Just—” I say, patience unusually thin as my arm keeps teaching me it’s not done hurting. Not even close. “Something that guy said. It reminded me of… fuck. I’ll explain later, but just… we need to cut one of them open and look in their chest. Look for an orb thing. Like glass ball.”
James slowly raises an eyebrow, smiling a little. “I think you might be in shock, brother.”
“Either you do it, or I’m going to try,” I say, starting to sit up.
“Alright, alright. You want me to cut into a dead fella’s chest to look for a glass orb? You’re lucky that’s not even the craziest thing I’ve ever been asked to do by a wounded man.”
He goes to the bald man and starts cutting. I’m equal parts impressed and horrified by how nonchalant he is about the whole ordeal. It makes me think about the kind of horrors he must’ve seen.
James looks over his shoulder, one arm already covered in blood to the elbow. “Can’t believe I’m elbow-deep in a body because—” he pauses, brows furrowing. He rummages around in the man’s chest a little more, grimaces, then pulls another glassy sphere. It looks just like the one I saw inside my chest on the ship. And, more importantly, just like the one I saw slotted into the silver disk back at the outpost.
“The fuck?” he asks.
Realization dawns on me with sickening clarity. These orbs are currency here. And all of us with markings on our neck are walking around with them stuffed inside our chests.
“We should get the one out of the guy in the armor, too,” I say, keeping the idea to myself for now. I need to at least make sure it slots into the disc before I voice my concerns. “Maybe try to collect his gear?” I try to stand up again. My vision swims and I immediately and violently puke, just like the girl from the Exorcist.
“You good?” James asks as he wipes blood from his arm in the snow.
“Great. Yeah.” I throw up again, a little less spectacularly. “I feel better after that.”
I flinch when I look up and see Bugbug, who doesn’t seem to care about the orb we pulled from the dead guy. Instead, he’s scanning my chest with his light again. I look down and see a silvery blue light passing from my forearm to my chest. Two, strange crystal-like growths made of light are sprouting from the sphere at the center of my chest.
“Uhh…” I say, giving Bugbug a look that says I hope he’s planning to explain.
“This is… Concierge Bugbug… extraction will no longer be required.”