The dragonhorse snorted as they pulled to a stop, its claws scraping against the dusty ground. Jenny slid off Ember’s back, landing lightly despite her awkward balance with one arm. The barren expanse stretched out before them, a bleak wasteland devoid of anything resembling a Bunker or civilization. The wind carried with it the dry, empty scent of sand and stone, swirling faint clouds of dust at their feet.
Jenny dismounted first, brushing her hand against Ember’s side as she moved away. The weight of the previous night still hung between them, unspoken but present. Her steps were purposeful, keeping her ahead of Reed and avoiding the awkwardness of whatever was left after their kiss.
Behind her, Reed pulled the map from his belt with an irritated snap, unfolding it as he scanned the landscape. His jaw tightened, frustration etched into every movement. No Bunker meant no pay. And without the pay... his thoughts trailed off, tightening into a knot he didn’t want to untangle yet. Not here. Not now.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered, his voice sharp with irritation. His finger traced the coordinates on the map for the third time. “This is the spot. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.”
Jenny didn’t answer immediately. She stood still, turning in a slow circle as she surveyed the landscape. Nothing but emptiness stretched in every direction, the only notable landmark the small cluster of town ruins to the east. Her gaze lingered on the crumbling buildings for a moment before sweeping back across the wasteland.
“This is wrong,” Reed said sharply, snapping the map again as if the sound might somehow resolve the situation. “This can’t be it.”
Jenny moved away from him, taking a few steps to the side. Her boots crunched on the dry ground as she looked around, squinting against the brightness. Something felt... off. The expanse was too smooth, too uniform. She glanced at the horizon, noting the slight curve of the landscape and the way it dipped just enough to create the illusion of flatness.
She took another step, then another, moving a few feet one way before stopping abruptly. Her head tilted slightly, and she backtracked, her boots scuffing the dirt.
“Jenny, what are you doing?” Reed asked, his irritation barely masked. He folded the map again, tucking it into his belt. “We need to figure this out.”
She didn’t answer him immediately. Instead, she crouched, running her fingers over the ground. The dirt was loose, unnatural. She stood again, turning her focus toward the town ruins, then the horizon beyond them. Slowly, realization crept into her expression.
“We’re in it,” she said, her voice low.
Reed frowned. “In what?”
Jenny gestured to the surrounding area, her movements subtle but deliberate. “This whole place. It’s a crater. A massive one.”
Reed blinked, his gaze following her gesture. His brows furrowed, and he took a step back, as if trying to see the landscape differently. “You’re saying... the Bunker was here?”
Jenny nodded slowly. “Or it’s still here. Somewhere beneath us.” She pointed toward the town ruins. “That place? It’s probably one of those little towns that used to spring up around bases. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Reed’s jaw tightened, and he turned to look at the expanse again. Now that she’d said it, the subtle curve of the horizon seemed impossible to miss. The realization sank in like a weight, pulling at the edges of his frustration. “A crater this big...” He shook his head. “What the hell happened here?”
Jenny didn’t answer. Her gaze lingered on the distant ruins, her thoughts swirling with possibilities. Whatever had happened, whatever had turned this place into a hollowed-out void, it wasn’t something she was ready to face. Not yet.
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The ruins of the town stretched out before them, silent and still. Jenny and Reed moved cautiously, their boots crunching over broken asphalt and scattered debris. The buildings, low and crumbling, sat in uneven rows, their facades warped by time. Once practical and orderly, the architecture now bore the chaotic marks of abandonment.
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Jenny’s gaze lingered on a pile of bones huddled near a barricade of rusted metal and debris. A sign lay nearby, its jagged letters barely legible: "Let us in!!!" Her stomach twisted as her eyes moved to the remnants of another painted slogan smeared across a wall: "Tech Lords Are Not Our Saviors!"
“This place doesn’t just feel empty,” she murmured. “It feels... haunted.”
Reed stepped past her, nudging a toppled sign with his boot. The message, though faded, was unmistakable: "White Power Only." He crouched, running his fingers over the jagged letters. “Guess that answers why you were so weirded out by Laura and Chan when you first met them,” he said, his tone pointed but not unkind.
Jenny stiffened, her gaze flicking to the sign before shifting away. She said nothing, but her thoughts churned. The slogans, the bones, the desperation etched into every inch of this place—they painted a picture she couldn’t ignore. This is what my home really was.
Reed didn’t press her. He stood, letting the sign fall back into the dust. “Hell of a way to make a point,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “Whatever happened here... it wasn’t pretty.”
Jenny’s eyes roved over the ruins, noting more skeletons slumped against walls and scattered across the streets. Another placard leaned against a cracked storefront: "No Billionaire Bailouts!" The words felt distant to her, their meaning tied to a time she’d never known. But the sheer spread of the signs—the anger they conveyed—was impossible to ignore.
“They were trying to get in,” she said softly. “And they didn’t.”
Reed glanced at her, his brow furrowing. “And the Bunker people? What were they doing?”
Jenny didn’t answer. Her throat tightened, and she forced herself to move. Focus on the goal. Focus on the entrance. She stepped past another cluster of bones, her boots stirring the dust. “Follow the bones,” she said firmly.
Reed raised an eyebrow but followed, his silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. Together, they traced the trail of remains deeper into the ruins. Signs of conflict became more frequent: overturned vehicles, barricades hastily constructed and long since broken, more slogans scrawled on walls and scraps of wood:
"We Are Not Your Experiment!"
"The Future Isn’t For Sale!"
Jenny’s jaw clenched as she stepped over another sign, its letters stark and accusatory: "White Power Scum!" She didn’t stop to read it, her focus locked on the path ahead.
Reed followed, glancing occasionally at her stiff posture. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.
Jenny nodded sharply. “I’m fine. Let’s just find the entrance.”
But she wasn’t fine. The bones and slogans, the barricades and broken lives—they weren’t just relics of the past. They were reminders of a truth she was only beginning to grasp: Her home hadn’t been salvation. It had been exclusion.
As they moved through the ruins, the oppressive silence grew heavier. The trail of bones thickened, leading them toward what had once been the heart of the town. The past pressed in around them, its echoes refusing to be ignored. Jenny pushed forward, her jaw tight, her mind racing with questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
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The trail of bones led them to the ruins of a mall, its skeletal frame looming in the dim light. Glass shards crunched beneath their boots as they stepped through what was once a grand entrance, the faded remains of a logo hanging precariously above. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the faint scent of mildew. Jenny glanced around, her gaze sweeping over rusted escalators and toppled displays.
“It’s here,” she murmured, her voice tight with certainty. She felt it in her gut—the eerie stillness, the faint shift in the air. They were close.
Reed followed silently, his dagger in hand as he scanned the shadows. His attention snapped to the far side of the cavernous space, where a massive circular door lay partially hidden behind rubble. The iconic design was unmistakable: a Bunker entrance.
“There,” he said, nodding toward it.
Jenny’s steps quickened, but she froze as her eyes fell on the obstruction in front of the door. A massive chunk of the second floor had collapsed, resting at an awkward angle against the entrance. She approached cautiously, her fingers brushing the jagged edge of the fallen debris.
“Half the ceiling’s blocking it,” Reed said, crouching to inspect the area. “They must’ve tried to blast it open.” He gestured toward a series of scorched marks along the edges of the rubble. “Explosives. Big ones.”
Jenny’s brow furrowed. “But they didn’t finish the job,” she said, her voice trailing off. Her mind raced, piecing together the fragments of a story she didn’t want to believe. Why stop halfway? Why not clear the way?
Reed leaned back on his heels, his expression dark. “Something stopped them. Something big.”
Jenny’s gaze lingered on the destruction, the weight of realization settling over her. The break in communication between Bunkers 7 and 4—this must have been why. Whatever had caused this collapse had cut them off from the outside, from the rest of the network. But... why hadn’t the people inside finished clearing it?
“What happened here?” she whispered, more to herself than to Reed.
Before he could answer, a sharp voice cut through the silence.
“And who. The hell. Are you?”
Jenny and Reed froze, spinning toward the sound. A tall figure stepped into the light filtering through the broken ceiling, her presence commanding and unyielding. Her axe rested casually on one shoulder, its weight effortless in her grip, but her eyes were anything but casual.