Red Blue Genesis: Chapter Two

Scene One

Coffee.

God, how he missed the taste— or at least, he was pretty certain he did, for he no longer recalled what it tasted like. The mushroom water the kitchen spat out worked great, but Jack had to chug it. There was no such thing as enjoying a hot cup of grounded up mushrooms.

Even so, there was a skip in his step as he carried his mug through the cavern halls. He must have been smiling, as every face he passed seemed to get brighter after they exchanged greetings. Even the cold chill that lingered throughout the Enclave couldn’t ruin the buzz that jolted through his veins.

The Lounge— a cavern specifically for drinking, gambling, and having a good time in the wee hours of the night— was alive with energy. Amber bulbs hung on wires from the ceiling, a center bar wrapped around a rock pillar. Rudy, tall, skinny, and a sharp tongue was the tender, with a younger girl working the crowd on the other side. People shouted for drinks, and Rudy barked back, never rushing himself as he poured one glass after another.

There was no music that night, just the sounds of conversation and laughter, children chasing each other between the tables, and groups of youth hollering in their corners. Jack shared a few greetings as he made his way to the usual spot. On the other side of the entrance, a booth carved into the cavern walls where Harris sat. He had his arm around Jayda, his wife and partner in crime. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she was biting back a smile as she leaned into her husband’s hold.

“This looks like a very uncomfortable arrangement. I better include myself,” Jack announced as he took the seat on the other side. He set his mug down as they watched him with amused expressions. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood.

“Ah, our trusty third-wheel has returned to us, my Love,” Harris dryly remarked.

Jayda’s brows drew together as she leaned out to look into his mug. “Are you drinking coffee? At this hour?”

“The signal is stronger at night.” Jack shrugged as Harris’ eyes glanced off to the side, a look of disapproval fighting to take control of his face.

She only appeared concerned. “Honestly, Jack. It’s not good for your body to mix up the day’s cycle.”

“Cycles are for women.” He quickly took a drink from his mug as Harris barked out a laugh.

“At least he’s sleeping,” came a voice from the floor. Jerry’s gray mullet was adorned with an olive green headband from the days of the War. His goatee still held flecks of red, but the lines carved into his face from years of hard living made him look far older than he was. He set down a bottle of whiskey— a brand that would be considered expensive even in the City— pushing his way into the seat next to Jack.

Pulling the cap off the bottle, Jerry poured the brown liquor into Jack’s mushroom coffee. “Taste much better that way.”

“Don’t get him too drunk. He’s got a signal to decipher,” Harris added, reaching for his own share of the bottle.

“I listen better when I’m drunk. At least, that’s what Lily claimed.” He had certainly noticed her when he walked in. She used to join them on such nights, but ever since their harsh break up she had retreated to be amongst friends of her own.

Better that way.

“I miss not being the only female at the table.” Jayda softly sighed.

“Why? You get all of the attention now.” Jack winked before laughing at Harris’ soured face.

“What brings you out of the Comms hole you’ve been hiding in?” Jerry downed his cup in a second, his whiskey-tanged breath brushing Jack’s face. “Ain’t seen you here in some time.”

He couldn’t help the grin that cracked his cheeks, and he let the curious looks grow a moment longer before replying, “I spoke with Henry Marsh earlier today.”

Muscles on Harris’ face twitched. His friend hated Henry, but there was no denying the man’s usefulness to their cause.

“He’s meeting a Divine Overseer.”

The news quieted the table, cheeks losing color and eyes finding others. It was as if all had become sick to their stomach. Harris cleared his throat before speaking, “So, what if he is? Getting one of our own so close to them…” He leaned forward, his voice dropping so low it was hard to catch over the noise of the cavern. “It could ruin everything, Jack.” He straightened his back, eyes scanning the crowd wearily as the muscles in his jaw went taut.

Jayda gave her husband a reassuring look. “We can’t get comfortable in this life, Love. It’s no way to live.”

Jack was surprised to hear the voice of reason amidst fear from the Nurse. He inclined his head with respect. “She’s right. Henry said he’s being worked into something important. He can’t share the details just yet, but it could change things. Give us the edge we’ve been looking for—”

“Reckon you’ll be abandoning your plan of kidnap?” Harris appeared more relaxed, but there was still a hesitation in his eyes. It was constant and unusual for him, and he glanced at Jayda with a look of concern.

What has gotten into him?

“No. We have to push forward on every front. Either Henry comes through, or Jamie Hamilton does.” He shook his head as the thoughts of potential poured into his mind. “How many humans do you know have met an Elohim? Not the sword end of the Cherubim, but an actual statesman of their species?” He looked urgently at his friend, desperately begging him to see the importance of what was to come.

Jerry finished off another cup, slamming it down with a sound of satisfaction escaping his lips. “Not used to seeing you so scared, Harris.” He narrowed his pale eyes at their brother-in-arms. “Noticed it in training the other day. Snapping at the youngsters if they showed even a kitten’s hiss of aggression.”

Harris’ chest heaved, his lips pressing tight as Jayda scooted-in closer to him. She answered just as his mouth twitched, “I’m pregnant.”

Oh.

Jack sat quietly, his eyes finding the empty bottom of his mug. Harrison Becker. A father.

He’ll be a great one.

Jack grabbed the nearly empty bottle, refilling his tin mug and lifting it up in a toast. “Hell, Harris, you should have led with that.”

A brief look, more emotion than Jack had ever seen, passed across his friend’s gaze as he grabbed his own cup and clinked it. They both threw back the whiskey, an understanding passing silently between them. Things were about to change for them both.

Jerry let out a chuckle. “I love to hear it. I’ll be right with you, Jay, I thought you were letting go.”

She shot him a look that could impale but Jerry was unfazed or uncaring as he claped his hands together. “Hoo! I’m going to be Uncle.”

“Don’t recall granting you such an honor,” Jayda muttered.

Jack leveled a serious gaze. “Harris, if you need to step back for a bit—”

He threw up his hands. “Don’t. I’ll be fine, Jayda is fine.”

“Then act like it,” Jerry retorted. “No offense, brother, but you can’t let your nerves seep into the young guys. They don’t have our experience, and their world is far more dangerous.”

There was a brief second where Jack thought Harris was about to stand, anger flashing across his visage, but he sighed deeply, cutting a curt nod towards Jerry. “You’re right. I feel better just letting you guys know, but Jack—” Their eyes met, a look of warning Jack had never seen from him staring back. “Keep in mind what you’re risking. Because if it comes down to losing my child or living here, scraping by forever, I know which one I’d take.”

He softly smiled. “Who do you think I’m fighting for?”

Every child in the Enclave was precious to Jack. The future of humanity. Free of alien control, and raised to fight back for what rightfully belonged to them. He couldn’t promise there would never be a loss, or that it would ever be easy, but he would die for each and every one of them.

Born or unborn.

He felt an elbow dig into his side. “Look alive, Commander.” Jerry grabbed the bottle of whiskey and slipped away as Lily approached with pursed lips and stormy eyes.

“Jack,” she greeted.

“Miss me, do you?”

She didn’t bite. “Being the leader of our community, I’m sure you haven’t forgotten what tomorrow night is.”

His eyes narrowed, mouth opening as no answers gave voice.

She released a sound of annoyance. “Graduation? Dozens of kids ready to take on an apprenticeship?”

Oh. Right.

“You’re unbelievable. April has been waiting for this day for months. Do you even have a speech ready?”

He sighed. “Why do I have to speak? I gave one for last year’s graduates. There’s lots of upstanding adults at the Enclave that I’m sure the kids would listen to.”

“Oh, give the speech, Jack,” Harris griped.

“I gave the speech last year.” Lily was on a roll. “You weren’t even present.”

He clicked his tongue. “Ah, see that’s why we were so great together. You were the face, and I was the brains.”

Her pale skin looked red under the dim lights, and she seemed to collect herself for a moment before speaking, “It would mean a lot to April if it came from you. She looks up to you, Jack. Why? I’ll never know, but she does.”

Her words quieted the rebellion that sprang to his lips. April was Lily’s only child, not Jack’s, but he had grown close to her over the years. Even after he and Lily had separated, April still couldn’t wait to wave hello to him, or excitedly rush to share with him something she’d made in class or learned about the world. He was soft on her, even if he’d never be her father.

He nodded at her. “I’ll be there. Tell Helen to do the introduction, and I’ll arrive shortly after.”

“Thank you.” She looked as if it pained her to say, and then as if she wanted to say more, but stopped herself, turning away and disappearing amongst the crowd.

“Always fun when you two catch up,” Harris remarked.

“It’s good, what you’re doing,” Jayda added. “She’s right. The kids love you. You’re a hero, Jack.”

Once upon a time…

Sometimes he wished he were still young, fighting shoulder to shoulder with America’s last soldiers, pumping aliens full of lead. Simpler days, being a young gun and taking orders.

“Busy day tomorrow,” he spoke, mostly to himself.

“Department checks?” Harris guessed.

Jack shook his head. “Marsh is sending information on an Abedim target, and then Casey and I will link up with Hamilton.”

Harris scratched his chin. “Sending a scout team out to the Raleigh.”

His ears perked up. “Place ought to be picked clean by now.”

“Nah, not even close. Every trip is a risk, and we never can transport enough. Food scouting will be pushing further south. Running low on meat.”

“Who’s leading the team?”

“Noah. Only his third trip in command, but the kid is good.”

“He grew up fast,” Jayda remarked. “I still remember patching him up every single day. Always fighting with the other boys.”

“He’s a good one. Reminds me of you, Jack.”

Jack slowly nodded, barely hearing them. He felt the stress rise up to his neck. There was so much going on that was vital to their future, to maintaining their safety. It never ended, and his nights hanging around the Command Chamber, listening to the damned signal over and over again, was beginning to feel like the only peace in his life.

He stood from his seat, grabbing his whiskey-stained mug. “I better get back to work.” He left them, their concerned looks burning into his back as he moved. He knew he’d find Casey passed out in his office, and Jacob, hard at work, monitoring the signal. He needed to busy his mind with what was important, to keep moving forward.

Every second matters.

Scene Two

Bethany walked through the door marked “NO ENTRY - ACTIVE BIO WORK” in large, red letters. Shutting it quickly behind her, she hurried over to the shortwave receiver hidden within a cabinet of the dimly lit Lab. She retracted the antenna, her teeth biting her lower lip as a giddy feeling built in her chest.

Turning the dial, she adjusted the frequency on the green-lit display. A small red light began to blink in a pattern, and the voice of the Ghost crackled through, “Good evening, Ladies and Gentleman. The Ghost here, broadcasting from a paradise untouched by the alien freaks that invaded our world. No doubt, they’re scrambling to intercept this signal, desperately listening to my sweet voice in hopes of finally taking me down.” He paused only briefly as his accent morphed from one of American English, to Australian— a trick he used often to keep the Elohim on their toes. “Unfortunately for them, I’m already dead. Not even aliens can see the dead, but I’ll be here, haunting their radios.”

Bethany couldn’t wipe the smile from her face, and it only grew when Tanya came through the door, excitedly hurrying over to listen.

“Have I missed much?”

Bethany shook her head. “Just getting warmed up. A little taunting, as you know.” They shared a giggle, hushing each other as the Ghost began to speak once more.

“It’s a beautiful day in Paradise, especially with the latest news I’ve gathered over the month.” He made an elaborate show of clearing his throat, and when he resumed, his accent had changed to one she couldn’t place. “A little, exotic birdie told me that there’s derision within the European region of the Elohim Overseers. A ‘lone ranger’ if you will, causing some ripples. I hope my brothers and sisters are ready to poke and prod, preferably with their trigger fingers.”

She shared a serious look with Tanya, who raised a thick brow as they leaned their heads in closer. The signal of the Ghost was always very weak, and the audio had to be cranked to max to hear him over the static.

“Hmm, they’re not going to like me sharing that. I better my lock my door. In the meantime, here’s a song my grandfather used to sing to me— very badly— working under the hot, African sun… or was it Italy?” His voice faded, replaced by a slow, acoustic song from a time that long predated Bethany’s birth. A time when humanity still ruled Earth.

Tanya dramatically placed the back of her hand to her forehead. “I could listen to him speak all day.”

She grinned, sharing the sentiment. If it were possible to fall in love with hearing alone, than Bethany’s heart had long since been given away. She let out a soft sigh, her senses refocusing on the claustrophobic confines of the lab— cramped with shelving, cabinets along stone walls. There was barely enough room for four people to move around freely within. It wasn’t much, but it was exactly as her late father had set it up to be when he made the Enclave their home.

Tanya’s own smile faded as she spoke with little enthusiasm, “Have you taken inventory for the morning?”

Bethany shook her head. It was unusual, and she had been late getting into the lab, having stayed up late with friends in the Lounge. “I’ll get right to it. Sorry, Tanya.”

The older woman had worked under Bethany’s father, and her own son, Noah, had grown up with Bethany. The thought of him brought an uneasy feeling to her stomach. He was leading a scouting party that day, not his first, but a big one. He had told them all about it in-between drinks. It was dangerous, yet important. She worried for him as she did any of her friends that worked in harm's way.

A knowing look crossed Tanya’s face as Bethany stood from her stool. “You’re worried about him, too.” She reached over the counter, grabbing Bethany’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “He’d be delighted to know that. Not that I’d say word, mind you.”

She felt her cheeks color. She wasn’t oblivious to Noah’s feelings, but she couldn’t get herself to return them in kind. He was plenty dashing, and good, but his presence often frustrated her as much as it brought any mirth. They were simply not right for one another. “I better get to counting. I know we’re low on syringes. Nearly out, I’m afraid.”

Tanya made a sound of interest, her eyes probing Bethany just as she turned her back. “Well, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. I passed along the list of vitals to Noah before he left.”

Her heart sunk. That could mean only one thing: Noah and his team were heading to the Hospital. Far from the Enclave, and closer and closer to the mega city's boundaries...

And Cherubim patrols.

Scene Three

Eight… Nine… Ten.

Noah signaled for the team to move forward, falling in behind their point man, Robert. There was an overcast of clouds darkening the environment around them, and he even felt a chill work up his body as he stepped softly on the damp ground. Peaking out from behind the thick trees ahead was the four-story Raleigh General Hospital— brick and concrete nestled within nature and ruin.

They carried duffel bags on each of their shoulders, with their own gear limited to what they could bring on their person, minus provisions. It heightened the dangers of every mission, but their goal was to get in and get out with as much supplies as they could scavenge. Still, Raleigh was a week’s hike from the Enclave. It was a grueling journey that sapped one of all energy due to the rationed food, and water. There was no time to hunt and risk detection with a fire. Every delay was a risk, and so Noah pushed aside the weariness in his muscles, the hunger that clawed at his abdomen until he felt hollow.

A sudden drop in his stomach had him lurching off to the side, puke spewing from his mouth. He sensed the team come to a standstill around him as small streams of liquid left his body, and pain stabbed his abdomen, for he had little to expel as it were.

His face burned as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and he spared a look back at an amused Derek— whose mouth twitched into a small smirk as he waited on one knee.

Great, he thought. He and Derek weren’t enemies as they had been as children, but they were both very competitive, and if there was anyone threatening to take patrols from Noah, it was him.

A hand on his shoulder snapped his attention to the weathered and mud-smeared face of Jerry. “Keep moving,” he mouthed out. He patted his shoulder once more, retreating back to the rear, twigs and leaves sticking out of his mullet. He always looked a little wild, but Noah assumed he wanted it that way.

Swallowing his pride, he fixated on the back of Robert, slowly creeping up to take a knee near a large stone. It was a good spot, offering a view of the old parking lot in front of the Raleigh yet still allowing some concealment. Only the sounds of nature could be heard as they stared out at the ruins. The town had long been overtaken by fauna, but remnants of a gas station, and other buildings were still visible through the brush.

It always left him in awe to try and imagine it as the Last Generation described. That there had once been an open, functioning society of humans that ruled only each other. It sounded like a fairytale, but the evidence was right in front of him.

Robert’s head inclined sternly before leaning in. The bearded veteran spoke with a hushed tone, “They’re outside of the zone today. We got lucky.”

Noah shook his head in agreement. It was impossible to predict when the Elohim drones would be monitoring any area at any moment, and the presence of a drone patrol meant they would be holding out for as long as possible— and that could mean heading back to the Enclave empty-handed.

He turned to greet the approaching steps behind them, witnessing Derek having abandoned stealth— he was upright, his steps loud, and his breathing heavy. “Guys,” he tried to whisper, but his voice was loud enough to make them wince.

Noah wanted to admonish him, especially after his own earlier embarrassment, but with no sighted drones, it wasn’t as much of a concern, and the urge to do so was driven by immaturity he could no longer allow.

Robert seemed to agree, letting volume seep into his own voice, “What happened? Where’s Jerry?”

Derek’s face was paler than was typical, his sweat beading his forehead. “We found something.”

Noah and Robert shared a quick look before coming to a stand, creeping as carefully as they could while still moving at a quicker pace. They followed Derek through forty yards of brush and trees alongside the parking lot perimeter— all the way up to a cracked and largely sunken road.

Jerry stood alone, looking down at something with a gaze that could level a Manhattan skyscraper. Noah spotted a hand first— graying in color, dainty and limp in a bed of grass. His eyes followed it up to its owner, taking in the sight of a lifeless young woman with brown hair pulled back. Her face was round, and delicate, hardly older than Noah himself.

Her attire was dirtied— suggesting weeks if not months on the move, and wearing a tattered red hoodie, and a soiled gray shirt. The burning hole through her chest was not a wound from a drone— Noah had seen one before, and though it burned cleanly through, it was not as large in diameter.

“I know this girl,” Jerry finally spoke. There was an unusual softness in his tone, and he knelt down and touched her face gently along the jaw. “She’s from Cohutta. One of their Runners.”

Robert’s thick brows drew together. “Why would a Runner from Cohutta be this far north?”

Noah was listening, but his eyes were glued to the Girl’s— dark, staring upward into the thick canopy above. He followed her line of sight, imagining the last thing such a beautiful girl might have witnessed before her life was taken. He could see a bird’s net, nestled onto a high branch, and he hoped the sight of such life had encompassed her mind before her own faded to Heaven.

His gaze settled back to earth, back to to Jerry as he stood with a grave expression. “I don’t know,” he muttered, almost inaudible. His head slowly shook. “It don’t make a lick of sense.”

“What killed her?” It was Derek asking the question, his own face flashing a multitude of grief as he looked upon the Cohutta Girl. Noah had seen death before, but he wasn’t certain the same applied to Derek. He found little hostility towards his rival in that moment.

“That’s a wide shot,” Robert remarked before looking at Jerry, their expressions as if sharing a silent, yet serious conversation. It made the hair on Noah’s arms raise, his eyes darting at the trees around them.

Jerry looked away from them, towards the road. “It’s from a Cherubim— one of them polearms. Stabbed her right through the heart.”

They stood in silence, the growing fear pressing down onto Noah as if it were humidity in the summer time. He had never seen a Cherubim in person before. He heard only stories, of their alien strength, speed, and senses. Of the manpower it took for human beings to kill just one of them.

Robert tugged at his old, stained boonie-hat as if a nervous tic. Noah could see him swallowing hard as his feet shuffled slightly, eyes looking around them. “She ain’t been dead for very long, Jerry.”

“I ain’t in charge, Robert,” was his only reply, his eyes still glued to the road.

Robert’s gaze shot his way. “Noah, you’re young, and you’re going to be a force to reckon with one day, but we need to retreat.” His eyes were wide, burning with worry, urging Noah to listen. “If there were Cherubims here, it means they’re looking for something. Looking for us.”

Noah hated the thought of leaving without any supplies. Supplies that they badly needed, but what he hated worst of all was the feeling of fear that had taken over his body. His mouth moved, but no words came out, and he only nodded at first, slowly regaining enough control of his senses to speak. “Let’s not hang around any longer.”

“Something ain’t right here,” Jerry muttered, his head shaking and eyes as if he were lost in another world. “We’re missing something. Something important.”

Robert’s head tilted to the right, his mouth twitching as if he were annoyed. “What ain’t right is standing around waiting for them to come back.”

“Why would they leave her body?” Derek’s question cut through the growing tension, and he dropped to his knees before the Girl. “It seems so wasteful.”

Noah moved forward, grabbing him by his fatigues to yank him up. “We’re like cattle to them,” he snapped. He wasn’t sure why his words came out so harsh, why anger was burning through him as he clutched the taller man by his collar. The Elohim were bug-like in their decisions and purpose, but they had all of the bodies of human beings they could ever want, and it pissed him off to think of even one being used as some sick resource.

Derek’s dark eyes narrowed at Noah, be he made no move to push him away. “I’m not leaving her.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Robert spat.

There are tears in his eyes, Noah realized. Derek was genuinely grieving, his expression pained.

“I’ll carry her.” Derek didn’t blink, and it took a moment for Noah to understand that the boy he had fought endlessly throughout his youth was pleading with him. “No one has to help, and no one has to wait for me— but she deserves to rest with her people.”

“You’ve lost your damn mind,” Robert muttered, storming forward and shouldering Noah out of the way. He stuck his finger in front of Derek’s face. “We can’t afford to lug around a body. Cherubims could be on our tail any minute—”

Derek leaned forward, inches from Robert’s face. “We wouldn’t abandon someone from the Enclave. We’re all in this fight together, aren’t we?”

Noah glanced at Jerry, who watched with an unhelpful, and unreadable expression.

Damn. I’ve got to make the call.

He looked back and forth at the intense exchange, then down towards the still body. She was one of them, was she not? The Cohutta Clan was a smaller group of survivalist far south of them— Georgia, is what his teacher had called it. They were long-time trading partners of the Enclave, but less aggressive, caring more to stay as hidden as possible from the Elohim.

He made up his mind.

“We’re taking her. I’ll split carries with you, Derek, but at any sign of Elohim activity, we’re dropping her and bucking it.” He looked sternly at Robert. “She’s one of us, and I reckon the Cohutta would be very thankful if we could return her to them, maybe get some answers as to why she was so far north.”

Relief crossed Derek’s face as Robert stepped back, his chin rising. He regarded Noah from head to toe before finally nodding, but saying nothing. It was a good indication that the orders were understood and would be carried out, even if he didn’t agree.

Robert went straight to helping Derek lift the stiff body onto his back, and though she was likely over a hundred pounds, Noah could tell from her midriff that it hadn’t been by much. She had died starving.

A hand softly touched the back of his neck, and Jerry looked up at him with a glint in his eyes. “You’re doing good, Son. Damn good.”

Noah watched him take up point, his own feet slowly kicking into gear.

God, I hope I’m not making a mistake.

Scene Four

Yvonne calmed her senses, relaxing her body as they followed the line to the Checkpoint. To her right, the Lugger hovered loudly, a high squeak sounding every time it had to slow down. Her eyes briefly met Abélard’s, whose dark gaze and stern face always killed any lingering fear.

The minimalist architecture that punctured the skies of Elohim rule slowly descended into Haussmannian buildings— windows patched with metal or plastic sheets, balconies sagging or all-but collapsing over lazy, wood and metal sheeted additions. The streets narrowed, the people dirtier and pressed against one another like canned sardines. Abélard kept his eyes peeled for any daring sorts. It was rare for someone to be so desperate they’d attempt a theft on State cargo, but she knew as well as anyone the desperation that came with hunger or for loved ones.

The Porte d’Italie Checkpoint came into sight, and she watched a blue force field between the Black-Pillared Gate switch to red as the lead convoy was allowed to pass through. The smell of sewage slowly invaded her senses, a common greeting of the low suburbs of Paris.

Squeak.

The Lugger came to a stop before the red field. The Abedim Guards were rod-still, faces hidden behind the black visors of their helmets. The Man in charge did not hide his face, wearing only the body armor. He approached with a scrutinizing look. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle,” he began as a red light flashed from the gate pillar, methodically scanning peoples and cargo. “Work order?”

“Work Order Delta-Foxtrot-One-Six-Three-Eight-Four-One-Zero, Monsieur.” Her voice was steady in her ears, blue eyes unbreaking from the Abedim’s own. He was a man of middle age, well-shaven, and eyes like a fox. Not a fool, and they rarely were if trusted with authority by the Elohim.

A security Drone floated down to be level with his head, projecting a screen of data as it pulled her Work Order. His eyes scanned it carefully. “Destination?” They always asked what they already knew, as if they might catch her slipping.

“Outpost F-17, Ore Refinery - Sector 4B.” His eyes passed slowly over the cargo. From the outside, the Lugger was a large hunk of metal hovering in the air, a massive crate eating up most of the space, and two leather seats crammed onto the front. There were no controls for steering, as Elohim-approved Luggers were designed to stay on route.

The Drone began to display a list of items, and X-rays of what the crate contained. He nodded at her to continue. They both knew the drill.

She began to list the haul, “Twelve replacement filtration cartridges, eight spare motors, four kilograms of calibration weights, and two liters of hydraulic fluid.”

A subtle nod from the Man, and the drone displayed her entire life for him to review as his gaze found Abélard. “Identification?”

“Yvonne Bret,” she stated. “Clerk Three-Three-Nine, Gamma-Nine Logistics Depot.” Abélard rattled off his own identification, and a light on the drone flashed green as its projection disappeared.

“Cleared to proceed,” the Abedim stated.

She fought the sigh of relief that always pushed to the surface when she heard such words. “Merci, Monsieur,” she said as she climbed back into her seat upon the Lugger.

Abélard hopped into the seat next to her as the Lugger groaned and squeaked itself awake. Even as they passed through the blue field, she couldn’t shake the feeling of the Abedim’s gaze upon her. Did he suspect something?

No. Any Abedim with suspicion would investigate without second thought.

It was the paranoia. The screaming in her head everywhere she went that eyes were watching her, that the walls were closing in tighter than before. It was a dangerous game that she played, and she knew she would likely die doing it, as so many had before, but it was a role few would take on in the fight for humanity.

As the Lugger roamed into the thick, smog-filled outskirts of Paris, Abélard seemed to relax. He squinted at the rising sun over the Outer-Slums, his fingers absentmindedly tugging at the pointed end of his black beard.

Yvonne passed the time stitching the latest tear in her olive-green pants, but her eyes kept flicking to Abélard, wondering what was in that thick head of his. No one stressed more before each trip than he, and yet, there was no one more prepared, more experienced to get them through it. At twenty-years old, she had been working with him for nearly two years already, yet despite the comfort his presence brought her, she could never figure him out.

Men prefer it as such, I suppose.

A Watcher Drone passed overhead just as a group of children barely snatched their football from the path of the unstoppable Lugger. “faites attention, imbéciles!” Abélard cried out as the giggling children disappeared into a trash-covered alleyway.

People parted the streets as if directed by Moses, and ahead, to where the city truly ended, a field of yellow grass shined under the sun. Leaving Paris always felt as if stepping through a portal to another world, or perhaps the light that awaited them all at the end. Yet the hardest part of the journey was yet to come. Leaving with the cargo was one thing, smuggling it off the route without being caught was another.

“I don’t like it,” Abélard finally said as the last of the dilapidated homes were behind them.

She rested her needle hand onto her thigh as she looked up. “What? They didn’t pester us any more than usual.”

“No— How that Abedim Guard was looking at you.” He began examining the dirt under his finger nails as if he hadn’t just said something bold enough to embarrass them both. “It was upsetting.”

Disbelief escaped her lips as she gazed at him incredulously. “I don’t follow your interpretation.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he shot back. She hated the sudden irritation in his tone, as if demeaning or barking at her despite no fault of her own.

She quickly began to put her sewing kit away in its little tin-box, nearly losing a needle in the process. A cursed slipped her lips as she felt the heat growing on her cheeks. Why must he do this now? The last thing wanted was an entire week’s journey of awkwardness and mild manners.

“Yvonne,” he tried, his tone softening. “I’m not angry at you, I’m just worried. I won’t be around for much longer.”

Ah… That.

She wished he hadn’t brought it up. It was the quickest way to take the hope she needed to push forward with their mission, and smash it into an oblivion of depression. Abélard was being reassigned from Gamma-Nine. It was a random event, completely at the whim of the Abedim who ran the Depot. They had worried he was compromised, but the truth was that he had simply done his job too well.

If only they knew.

It was a good thing for the Resistance. He would have access to better supplies, and new routes, but the cost would be leaving her on her own. She would have to vet her new coworker, to ensure they were someone who could be trusted to help, and worse yet— kill him if he were not, as Abélard had done to the weasel in her place prior. Every risk she took was for the future, yet at that moment, she wanted to think of nothing else.

They were silent upon reaching Fontainebleau, and Yvonne preferred it so, as she basked in the nature that was overtaking the cracked-and-hole-covered highway. Trees closed in on each side, some reaching out and brushing the cargo. Far off in the distance, she could see another Lugger moving along the green tunnel.

The noise of the Lugger fell second to the quiet life of the forest. The occasional raven and crow calls left her eyes scanning the trees for any sign of them. A bird in the tree was a far more pleasing sight than the dead ones that line the streets of Paris, often scavenged by the hungry. She took a deep breath of the damp earth and wet leaves that peppered the air, her eyes growing heavy as she leaned back in the seat, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. Somewhere, lost in the thicket of trees, was a grand Château that sat abandoned and decaying. A once powerful symbol of her peoples culture reduced to just a ruin amongst filth. She drifted off as she pictured what it might have been, before the invasion, her heart burning with desire— A desire to make the Elohim bleed.