My comm chirped to life, the screen on my HUD flickering as an incoming video call pierced through the haze. The face that appeared on the screen was one I had hoped never to see again—Rollo Hinge, his features as familiar as they were now alien in their betrayal.

  “Kovach,” Hinge's voice was calm, almost friendly, a stark contrast to the chaos around us.

  “Hinge...” My voice was a mix of anger and disbelief. “How is it you’re alive?”

  He smiled, a cold, humorless expression. “More than alive, my friend. That is what I was trying to explain to you. I’ve found purpose, a cause greater than any we served before.”

  The revelation of his survival was one thing, but his allegiance to The Order was a jagged pill to swallow. “You’re with them? You helped bring about all of this?” I gestured to the desolation around me.

  Hinge’s eyes hardened. “Solomon was a gift from me to you. He betrayed us in the end. He'd served his purpose, mostly. In the end, he thought he was too small to be part of our plans. And yes, Joe, with The Order, I helped bring change. Something we could never do with Banshee Team. You and I both know the corporations that ran the governments and the wars could never be reined in. The world needed to evolve, and The Order is the only force with the vision to see it through.”

  His words were like a dagger, twisting in a wound that hadn’t even begun to heal. “You call this evolution?" I shifted the view from me to the battlefield. "This is chaos, pure destruction! Jesus Christ, Hinge, we are going extinct out here. What in the fuck is wrong with you?"

  Hinge leaned closer to the screen, his gaze intense. “It’s a necessary upheaval for a new order, Kovach. Get off your goddamn high-horse and listen for a minute. I’m offering you a place at the table. Join us. You've seen what we're capable of, but you are clueless on where it is all headed.”

  I felt a surge of repulsion at the offer. “Join you? After everything you've done? You're delusional, Rollo.”

  His smile faded. “Think about it, Kovach. Power, answers, a chance to shape the new world. Don’t let your emotions blind you to the opportunity. How many times did we bitch about command throwing countless lives away for no reason at all? Trust me when I say we have a reason.”

  I shook my head in disgust. “Hell, no, I’ll never be a part of your twisted vision. Face it, Hinge, you aren’t serving some higher purpose. No...you’ve betrayed everything we stood for.”

  Hinge’s expression darkened, the friendly facade slipping away. “I have no idea why I ever thought you would be reasonable, Kovach. If that is your answer, then you leave us no choice. You and your Banshee Team are a threat that will be eliminated. I’ve been holding off the wolves until now. I’m sorry, Joe. Goodbye.”

  The screen went blank as the call ended, leaving me with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Hinge was alive, and worse, he actually was the enemy I'd been hunting, or at least one of them. The man I had once trusted, fought alongside, was now determined to be the architect of our destruction.

  Priest returned, his expression grim. “Solomon’s gone, man. It’s over for him. Riker found parts of the dude, but the Decimator turned him into hamburger meat.”

  I nodded, my mind still reeling from Hinge’s call. “He's not…the only problem we have."

  "Rollo?"

  "Yeah,” I answered wearily. "… he’s with The Order.”

  Priest was in as much shock as I was over the revelation of the last hour. I now knew why his name was on that list…but what about my own?

  "What comes next?" Koog asked.

  Hinge had made his intentions clear—we were targets, obstacles to be removed in his quest for a new world order.

  “We need to move,” I said, determination steeling my voice. “Our old C.O. was a damn good soldier. He wants us eliminated. We must be ready for anything.”

  "Why didn't he just shoot you when he locked your suits up, Joe?" Lux asked.

  I looked at the kid. I hated showing him how much this betrayal hurt, but I'd promised myself not to lie to him.

  "He had an offer to deliver."

  "For us to join him?" Riker asked.

  I nodded, "Something like that."

  "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Priest swore. "What is it with these people?"

  Lux programmed the now dead Decimator to recharge from its built-in solar array, then to home in on our beacon. No one knew if it would actually follow us, but it was a nice thought. If it did, though, we would have to disable the tracker.

  “Ada, how the hell did Hinge freeze our suits?”

  “Working on it, Joe. He apparently has command override keys for all RDT equipment. The only likely reason he didn’t secure the Warbot is it wasn’t on his list of our assets.”

  “Can you block him? I mean, you know, if he does it again?”

  “I will let you know once I find the command function. It is not in any of the control system specifications.”

  “Just do your best.”

  "Let's find the girl and get moving," I told the team.

  They all wanted to know—to where? I didn’t know. The dampening field was down, comms was back up, but I hadn't been able to reach anyone that might help. I just really wanted away from this miserable valley.

  “Prowler, you gonna need to see this.”

  We moved as quick as we could to Priest’s position. The terrain was rugged, a harsh reminder of the brutal reality we now faced. The WitchWalker was lying beside a shattered tree, her form still, yet her chest rose and fell with the shallow breaths of the living. An injury marred her side, a dark stain against her ethereal presence. It wasn’t mortal, but she was weakened, vulnerable in a way I had never seen her before.

  Koog treated the wounds, and we managed to get her into one of the recovered battleskins. I helped strap a Medbot to her wrist and had to marvel at her unblemished skin. She was filthy, but not one bug-bite, no scars other than the impact injury. It was amazing.

  Lux, his Decimator drained of power and ammo in the firefight, stayed close by her side. His Warbot, which had been a huge asset in our journey, now stood like a statue, a casualty of the relentless battle we were waging. In its absence, Lux’s didn't skip a beat, he effortlessly moved from one role to another. This one was championing the recovery of the girl, his friend, with a tenderness that belied his age.

  “We need to get her to safety,” Lux said, his voice firm. He glanced around at the motorized CML transport bots that kept diligently trailing us. With quick, efficient movements, he and Riker repurposed one into a makeshift transport for the WitchWalker.

  As we continued our journey, Lux rode with the WitchWalker, his demeanor one of quiet determination. He tended to her injuries at Koog’s direction, applying bandages and administering the Anadium painkiller and other first aid with a steady hand.

  The WitchWalker’s eyes fluttered open occasionally, meeting Lux’s with a wordless gratitude. There was an unspoken bond forming between them, a connection forged in the crucible of battle and survival.

  I watched them, a mix of concern and admiration in my heart. Lux had grown so much since the day the world fell. He was no longer just a kid caught in the chaos; he was a warrior, a vital member of my team. Now, the WitchWalker’s presence, even in her weakened state, was also part of our rag-tag group. These very human bonds were what I relied on to overcome The Order. I understood, they felt they had a higher calling or some bullshit, but killing off most of the species does not equal out to any higher purpose in my book.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY

  In the snow-covered expanse of the badlands, we could only hear the crunch of our footsteps over the frozen ground. Ada's persistent attempts to connect with the IAS Stone Mountain yielded nothing but silence. My own calls, to my dad and Damiana Voss, also still went unanswered, leaving a knot of concern in my stomach. It appeared the wasteland wasn't ready to let us go just yet.

  Following a mountainous trail south, we once again encountered Jarek and his group. They called themselves The Tribe. Unlike the typical raider bands we'd faced, they carried themselves with a weary dignity. Jarek, their leader, had a rugged look, his eyes reflecting experiences of a hard-lived life. Much of it, no doubt, since Last Day.

  “We’ve had our fill of Solomon and his tyranny,” Jarek began, his voice holding a raw honesty. “We split from his group a while back. Couldn’t stomach his methods. We had to hide out deeper in the waste, not all of us survived. Been trying to make it on our own since then.”

  There was a straightforwardness in his speech that resonated with us. In the lawless chaos of the Red Zone, it was rare to encounter others who shared a similar distaste for Solomon's brutal reign. The man had done a good job of eliminating his detractors.

  “Your fight against Solomon,” Jarek continued, “it’s given some of us a hope. Not all who wander the wastelands are lost to madness.”

  We relaxed slightly, sensing a common ground. “Appreciate the words,” I replied. “We’re all trying to find our way through this mess. You won’t have to worry about Solomon again, although I feel sure someone else is already likely slipping into that role.”

  "You survived the Bad Place, you must be doing something right," the old woman said with a laugh.

  The Tribe, despite their rough exterior, showed signs of organization and a desire for something more than mere survival. Their camp, a short distance away, was a haphazard arrangement of shelters, but it was clear they had put effort into making it a livable space. Still, the radiation here was causing them problems that even I could see.

  "We knew it was dangerous," Jarek said. "Living here, eating wildlife, drinking the water. We know the risks, but out there were Solomon and the Furies.”

  As we shared a modest meal, Jarek recounted their story—how they had once been part of Solomon’s group, but disillusionment and disapproval of his ruthless tactics had driven them to break away. Life since then had been a constant struggle, but they preferred it to losing their moral compass under Solomon. Several of them had been forced to violate Indian burial sites nearby in search of something the man desired.

  They knew some ways to survive out here but the exposed tumors, tooth loss, and angry rashes were a sure sign they were losing the battle with the nuclear fallout.

  Their story was a reminder of the complex tapestry of life in the Red Zone. Not everyone could be clearly defined as villain or a saint; most were just trying to navigate the chaos as best they could.

  After the meal, we prepared to move out. The brief respite with The Tribe had been unexpectedly comforting, a small pocket of camaraderie in a world torn apart. I suggested they move back into safer territory, take their chances with whatever was left of Solomon's people.

  "I think you would be a good person to take over whatever is left of that group, Jarek."

  The man seemed stunned.

  "You're reasonable, you want something more for your people, and I don’t see you compromising on your principals. I also think you realize you and they have to get out of this Red Zone if you hope to survive. One way or the other, this part of the world is no man's land. Hiding out here is a death sentence."

  He didn't disagree but didn't look eager to take on that bigger challenge. When the CMLs showed up, we offered them some of our anti-rad drugs and some of our dwindling supplies. We decided to stay the night hoping the rest would help the Witch's injuries. By morning, I had our next stop already programmed in. It was going to be a brutal hike over even more mountains.

  We resumed our journey the following morning, leaving the temporary sanctuary of The Tribe behind. The brutal landscape stretched out before us, ‘Big Sky country’ they used to call it. I understood why, wide open spaces, nowhere to hide. But man, the nights were beautiful. I'd never seen so many stars.

  As we marched, Priest broke the silence that had settled over us. "I still can't wrap my head around it. How is Hinge alive? You and I both saw what happened to him on that mission," he said, his voice tinged with confusion and disbelief.

  His question hung in the air, echoing the thoughts that had been nagging at me since the encounter with the cloaked figure. The thought of Hinge, a man I had once trusted, now aligned with The Order, and orchestrating our downfall, was a betrayal that cut deep.

  It was Ada who offered a possible explanation. "My guess is that Hinge may have been part of a covert resurrection program. The Order is known for their advanced biotech capabilities. It's plausible they found a way to bring him back, possibly with altered loyalties or even as a manipulated asset."

  The idea was chilling, the implications far-reaching. The Order's capabilities were more advanced and sinister than we had imagined. If they could bring back the dead and bend them to their will, what else were they capable of?

  "They can do that?"

  Ada gave an affirmative response. "Advanced cloning techniques with genetic and cerebral manipulation might also explain it."

  "So, he isn't who he thinks he is?" I didn't buy that one, despite his abrupt turn from friend to enemy—he still seemed like Rollo Hinge.

  Priest shook his head, a mix of anger and sorrow in his expression. "That's twisted. Using the dead as puppets..."

  Koog cut in, “Pretty sure that was the guy up in orbit. You know, the other ship that was there? The one that must have attacked us?”

  Lux, who had been quietly listening, spoke up, his voice firm. "If so, then it was his people who killed my mom. He needs to pay."

  His words resonated with a resolve that reflected the determination in each of us. That attack had cost his mother’s life and marooned us here in the waste. Still, it was obviously apparent that we were up against an enemy that was not only powerful but also willing to cross boundaries we hadn't even imagined.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-ONE

  As we pressed forward through the rugged terrain of the Red Zone, a sudden streak of fire moving fast above shattered the oppressive silence. A massive object struck the ground in the distance, the impact sending a shockwave that rippled through the air and ground. The force was colossal, kicking up a cloud of debris that mushroomed into the sky.

  We halted, stunned by the suddenness of the event. "What the hell was that?" Koog blurted out, his eyes wide as he stared at the rising dust cloud.

  Ada quickly analyzed the data, her voice tense with urgency. "That was an orbital strike. If I am correct, a targeted asteroid drop. The trajectory suggests it was deliberate."

  “That was a ranging shot, Kovach,” Priest said, his years in the field coming into play. "It wasn't the first one either. I've been hearing and feeling those for a few days now."

  "This is a weapon," I said, realization fully dawning in me.

  "Sounds a bit over the top if they’re just trying to get you, Kovach," Koog stated.

  "Hinge always did say overkill is underrated," Priest offered grimly.

  The notion of such a weapon being deployed was horrifying. It was a level of destruction that went beyond conventional warfare, a demonstration of terrifying power. Whoever was controlling such a weapon had the capability to obliterate entire areas with impunity.

  They have the ultimate high ground. Something we briefly had, but we never thought of throwing giant rocks down at the planet.

  The noise disturbed the WitchWalker, who had been silent so far, in and out of consciousness, and she began showing signs of stirring. She had been quiet, almost ethereal since we found her injured body, but now she seemed suddenly galvanized by the event. Surprisingly, she spoke, her voice a raspy whisper that carried a weight of urgency.

  She motioned toward me, and I moved close. "Watch the boy," she said, her gaze fixed on Lux.

  Her words were strange and cryptic, but the intensity in her eyes suggested an underlying knowledge or foresight that we couldn't ignore. Lux looked at her, a mix of confusion and curiosity in his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked.

  But the WitchWalker said no more, retreating into her silent vigil.

  We continued our trek, each of us lost in thought over the WitchWalker's warning and the implications of the orbital strike. The Red Zone was dangerous enough on the ground; the thought of threats from above added a new layer of danger to our journey.

  If they had been tracking the Warbot, perhaps it would take them time to zero in on us. I was hopeful, but honestly, not that optimistic. These guys had tech that was far outpacing our own. In my own case, I was becoming convinced that they had been the one to supply my own upgrades. Shit, they owned me.

  We kept an eye on the massive plume of fire and dirt kicked up by the impactor strike. Our contemplation was abruptly cut short by a new threat. A wild creature, mutated and ferocious, burst from the underbrush, its eyes wild with hunger and aggression. It was unlike any wildlife we had encountered before, a product of The Order and the wastelands’ twisted ecology.

  I barely had time to register the creature before it was upon us. It moved with shocking speed, bounding on all fours like some grotesque hyena, its muscular frame propelled by powerful haunches. But this was no ordinary animal—its body was a misshapen horror, a hodgepodge of disparate animal traits warped into a single predator.

  The head was almost canine, with a blunt snout full of jagged teeth. But the eyes were distinctly feline, with slitted pupils that seemed to radiate a fierce intelligence. Matted fur covered its body, streaked with ichor and filth. The front limbs ended in long talons, while the rear legs were thick and powerful. A single row of spines protruded from its back, glistening with milky pearls of what I suspected was venom. This thing was absolutely built to kill.

  Riker moved to place himself between the creature and Lux. His rifle was on full auto as he poured plasma rounds at the thing’s flesh. Priest stepped toward it and began aiming for anything vital, any soft spots. Rounds were hitting the thing, but it just seemed to ignore any damage they caused.