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–that 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.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  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– 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–more 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–there 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–a 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.