Barton’s voice boomed from the speakers high on the walls. It bounced off the concrete and cut through the freezing air. Above the plaza, the twin barrels of the automated turrets hummed as they tracked every small movement in the open yard. Caleb stood frozen in the hard white light of the floodlights. His hands still gripped his wooden spear like a drowning man holding a piece of wood. He looked from the twin barrels down to Nia. His chest rose and fell hard as the truth of the betrayal finally sank in. “You let us fight those men in the mud,” Caleb said. His voice shook with anger and disbelief. “You walked with us through the dark. You sat by our fire.” “Sympathy is a luxury for people who are not starving,” Nia said. Her voice stayed flat. She kept her back pressed against the concrete pillar and refused to look him in the eye. “My brother is down in the lower pits. Barton gave me a choice.” Abigail crouched behind the low concrete barrier. Her revolver was aimed straig

The lower levels of the Syndicate perimeter did not smell like earth or clean stone. They smelled like stagnant rust, old machine oil, and the slow rot of things left behind long ago. Asher moved through the dim red glow of the emergency lights with his shoulders squared. His boots hit the ribbed metal floor with a steady rhythm. He did not need a lantern to find his way. He knew the shape of these underground vents from years of running through the shadows of the outer border. Behind him, Caleb’s boots dragged against the wet grating. Each step sounded heavier than the last. “My legs feel like lead,” Caleb muttered. His voice echoed thinly off the curved steel ceiling. “I think the air down here is half poison. My chest burns every time I try to take a deep breath.” “Stop talking and keep your feet moving,” Abigail said from right behind him. She kept one hand on the small of his back, pushing him forward when his pace slowed. “If you stop walking in this damp air, your muscl

Asher pulled himself up over a slick shelf of grey limestone. His boots found a narrow crack. He reached down and grabbed Abigail by the forearm. She caught the stone with her free hand, hauled herself onto the ledge with a quiet grunt, and dropped into a crouch beside him. Below them, Caleb clung to the wet rock face. His boots dangled over the dark drop of the ravine. “My grip is gone,” Caleb gasped. His voice trembled as rain slicked his fingers against the cold stone. “I cannot hold on much longer.” “Do not look down at the drop,” Abigail called out. She leaned over the edge and reached down as far as she safely could. “Look at my hand, Caleb. Take it now.” Caleb let out a ragged breath. He released his hold on a treacherous patch of moss and lunged upward. Abigail’s fingers clamped around his wrist just as his boots slipped off the narrow ledge. She threw her entire weight backward and dragged him over the lip of the rock onto the safe flat of the shelf. Caleb collaps

Heavy boots kept their steady crunch against the wet gravel as the distance closed to the overturned oil drums. Rain lashed the asphalt around him, but his dark eyes stayed locked on the men holding the line.“Hold it right there, big man,” the tall scavenger in the iron helmet barked. He stepped into the center of the lane and leveled his heavy machete at Asher’s chest. “Five rounds of live ammo or three inches of workable steel. That is the fee to walk this asphalt today.”Asher stopped two feet away. His arms hung loose at his sides under the wet canvas of his coat. “I do not pay fees to dead men.”The tall scavenger blinked. His thick brow furrowed beneath the rusty lip of his helmet as he laughed. “What did you say to me, stranger?”“You heard him!” an evacuator behind Asher shouted. He took a tentative step forward into the open gap. “He said get your filthy rusty drums out of the way!”“Shut your mouth back there!” one of the guard scavengers snapped. He swung his rusted shotg

The road did not stay open for long. Asher followed the long curve of the highway down into the flats. His heavy boots were caked with red clay that grew thicker with every step. The rain slowed to a cold drizzle that smelled of sulfur and river mud. Ahead, where the asphalt bent toward the canyon wall, a wide brown river churned through the rock basin. “Hold up!” a voice shouted from a wooden shed beside the road. Asher kept his pace. His eyes swept the treeline along the muddy bank. Three men stepped out from behind a rusted shipping container. Each carried an old hunting rifle slung across his chest. “I said hold up, stranger!” the lead man barked. He raised a thick hand. “The bridge is down!” Asher stopped ten yards away. His coat hung heavy with water. “How far down?” “Blown right out of the middle,” the man said. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Scavengers dropped the main span three hours ago. Nothing is crossing on four wheels or two legs.” “Is there a ferr