The bridge loomed ahead, the raiders’ makeshift barricade visible even from a distance. Rusted cars littered the road, their frames piled together with tangled barbed wire. The path ahead was almost entirely blocked, except for a small gap where two figures stood watch.

“Stay close,” Altan murmured, his voice low. “We’ll try the toll first.”

As they approached, one of the raiders stepped forward, a toothy grin spreading across his scarred face. “Well, well. Ain’t you a brave one, bringing kids through here. Toll’s fifty caps a head.”

"Thirty,” Altan countered, his rifle at the ready, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. “You don’t want to make a liar out of Grandma Sparkles, do you?”

The first raider’s grin faltered, and his hand twitched toward his holster. But before he could act, Delilah shifted, the grenade launcher rattling against her back. The second raider stiffened at the sight of the distinctive stock over her shoulder, his eyes widening.

“Fine,” the first raider muttered, casting a glance at his partner. “Thirty it is.”

Altan motioned to Delilah, who reached into an outside pocket on his duster, and pulled out a pouch of caps. "Count it out, Lily."

She nodded, nervous eyes flicking between the raiders and the pouch as she counted. "...eighty-nine, ninety." She slipped the leftover caps back into Altan's duster, and held out the pouch. Altan took the pouch, and tossed it over the barricade. A few tense moments passed, and the raiders stood down, allowing the group to pass.

"Pleasure doing business with ya, suckers!" One of the raiders laughed, tossing the pouch up and down. Altan didn't reply, keeping himself and his rifle between the kids and the raiders, until they reached the collapsed section and began to climb up. To their immense relief, none of the raiders pursued, and they made it to the top unmolested. As one, the trio let out the breath they didn't realize they'd been holding, and shared a moment of relieved laughter.

"My heart was beating like crazy!" Bryan babbled out, and Delilah nodded frantically in agreement.

"You were like G.I. Jerry!" Delilah tugged at Altan’s sleeve, her voice tinged with excitement. She pantomimed his stance, adding a mock-serious tone, "Thirty caps. You don’t wanna make Granny Sparkles a liar, do ya?"

Altan chuckled, giving her a gentle smile. "G.I. Jerry, huh? That is the highest of praise." He took a deep breath, his gaze shifting to the horizon as if to shake off the tension. “Fuck, that was stressful,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “But you two did extremely well. I’m proud of you."

“Let’s get over the water,” Altan continued, scanning the path ahead. “We’ll hunker down behind one of those cars, take ten, and reset. I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready to forget those assholes.”

The kids fell in line behind Altan, and they found a spot between two cars to rest. They cracked open the box of Sugar Bombs, sharing the stale cereal between them, laughing and chatting despite the worn edges of their situation. Altan, ever watchful, kept his focus on the far side of the river through his binoculars, his eyes scanning for any sign of danger. The kids' chatter faded into the background, but Altan remained alert, the faintest unease still gnawing at him. His expression darkened as his binoculars focused on hulking, distant figures. A low curse slipped from his lips, and he quickly stashed the binoculars away.

"Altan?" Delilah asked, softly tugging on his arm as he swung his rucksack around, unzipping the canvas case strapped to its side. Inside, several boxy rifle magazines were neatly arranged. With quick, practiced movements, Altan swapped out some of the curved magazines from his vest for the bulkier ones, then slid one into his rifle with a soft click. He zipped up the case, filled with the regular mags, and turned his steady gaze toward the kids, his expression unreadable.

“Alright, you two. We've got super mutants ahead," Altan said, his voice light, but with a flicker of something more serious beneath it. The kids stiffened at the mention of the monsters, but Altan waved it off with a grin. "Not as bad as they sound. They're big, fast, and tough—but also pretty stupid. They usually can't hit the broad side of a barn, and they don’t exactly win any awards for intelligence."

He paused, eyes scanning the horizon as his grin faded just slightly. "That said, they’re aggressive as hell, and cannot be bargained with. They make up for all the fine motor skills they’re missing with heavy weapons." He chuckled, trying to keep the mood light, but his eyes darkened for a moment. "Or, you know, so I’ve heard. I only ran into one once, and it was just holding a board with nails in it. So—"

The tinny sound of "Dixie" drifted from the collapsed side of the bridge, slicing through the heavy silence. Altan froze, his eyes narrowing. The three of them stared, bewildered, as an Eyebot crested the fallen section of the bridge and floated merrily along, oblivious to the danger waiting on the other side of the river. Its cheerful, dissonant tune seemed almost comical against the threat of super mutants looming just beyond.

Altan eyed the bot, an idea quickly forming. He motioned toward the drifting eyebot with his rifle, his voice low but steady. "Stay put. I'm gonna let that bot draw their fire, then take them out. I’ll come get you when it’s safe."

Delilah shot him a worried glance, but he didn’t meet her gaze, focusing entirely on the bot. Bryan fidgeted, but didn’t protest, the tension mounting between them. As Altan took a step after the bot, Delilah stood, frowning. "Wait. I’m coming with you."

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"What?" Altan’s head snapped in her direction. "No, you're not," he said, his voice firm. "This isn't a negotiation, Delilah. I'll handle it."

She took a step closer, her fists balled at her sides. "Why do you always do this? You keep acting like I’m a little kid who can’t do anything!"

"You are a kid," Altan countered, gesturing toward her. "You’re thirteen, Delilah. I don’t want you anywhere near those mutants. Do you even understand what they’d do to you if things went wrong?"

Her expression hardened, a fire lighting in her eyes. "I’m not asking to fight them alone. I just want to help. Why is it okay for you to risk yourself for me, but I can’t do the same for you? That’s not fair, Altan!"

Altan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It’s not about fairness. It’s about keeping you safe. Taking a life... it changes you. I don’t want you to have to carry that."

Delilah crossed her arms, her voice rising. "I already killed an ant yesterday, didn’t I? What’s the difference? Was its life worth less just because it was a bug? You can’t shield me forever, Altan. I’m not a little kid anymore."

"You are to me," Altan muttered, his tone softer than before.

"Then let me grow up," she shot back. "I’m not just tagging along for the snacks, you know. I’m here because I want to help."

"You adults are all the same," Bryan mumbled, turning a glare onto Altan. "You always think you can run off and do things by yourself, and then you-" he choked up, "-you die, and leave everyone else behind."

Altan glanced between them, his jaw tight. He wanted to argue, to put his foot down, but Delilah’s determined face and Bryan’s shaky voice gave him pause. He sighed again, this time with resignation.

"Alright," he said finally, meeting Delilah’s gaze. "But you stay behind me. You do exactly what I say. No heroics, no risks. Got it?"

Delilah nodded, her expression resolute. "Got it."

Altan turned back toward the eyebot, muttering under his breath, "Lord, if you're out there, please watch over us and guide our steps." He paused, a tremor in his voice, "Don’t let me regret this."

They quickly packed up their snack and followed the eyebot at a distance. As it neared the other side of the bridge, Altan held his hand up, and pointed at the grenade launcher slung over Delilah's shoulder. Her eyes widened, and she scurried closer to him.

"Really?!" She whispered excitedly, less a question, more a plea for permission. Altan gave her a stern look, but nodded. He jabbed a pair of fingers at her and Bryan, raised his fist, then pointed at the rusted hulk of a car just off the ramp. The kids stared at him, and he sighed, repeating the motions while whispering what they meant.

"You two, move quickly, over there." He went to make another set of hand motions, but sighed again, "I'll head to the other side of the ramp, and lay down fire. Got it?" They nodded, scampering over to the car. As the eyebot began its merry journey down the ramp, Altan took off.

Several things happened at once. As Altan charged into the open, a deafening whoosh echoed from farther down the ramp. He cursed as a pillar of fire streaked past him, slamming into a building behind the bridge. The explosion that followed erupted in a blinding flash, a deafening roar, and a shockwave that rattled their cover, sending debris flying and making the kids' ears pop.

Delilah coughed, working her jaw to get the pressure back, and peeked over the car to see what Altan wanted her to do. He was-

Her breath hitched as her eyes locked onto Altan’s motionless form. He was lying next to a car, helmet gone, rifle trapped beneath him. Her heart stopped. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move—only stared at him, hoping he'd somehow, impossibly, get up.

Deaf to Bryan's insistent tugs and the whip-crack of bullets zipping past her, Delilah stood up from cover, launcher in hand, searching for the source of the chaos. The launcher snapped to her shoulder as she spotted a pair of brutish, yellow-green creatures in a skybridge, one of them loading a launcher of its own—an old, rusty tube longer than she was tall.

Delilah squeezed the trigger, and the grenade launcher thumped. The deadly payload shot toward one of the ugly bastards—or so she thought. Instead, the grenade hit the skybridge itself, sending both creatures sprawling with a sharp crack and a bright flash. Delilah wanted to scream at them, but she couldn’t. She was already screaming. How long had she been screaming?

She stumbled, falling backward onto the ground, but Bryan was there, pulling her behind the cover. Her mind was reeling, but all she could hear was Bryan’s voice, shaking her back to reality.

"-lilah! Delilah! Snap out of it!" Bryan's voice cut through the ringing in her ears. She gasped, struggling for breath, and fumbled with the grenade launcher's action.

"I need another!" she stammered, tossing the spent casing aside. Bryan shot her a quick, confused look, then pulled a grenade from his bandolier. She thanked him with a shaky nod, loading the new round and snapping the launcher shut.

"I'm gonna see if I got them, okay?" she shouted, barely able to hear herself over the ringing. Bryan gave her a quick nod and hunkered down behind the wreck.

Delilah popped her head up, half expecting to get shot. But instead of more bullets, all that greeted her was an eerie silence and a pile of twisted debris where the skybridge had once stretched.

An even bigger, meaner super mutant lumbered into view from a crumbling ruin beside the road, a minigun slung at its waist, the barrel swinging toward Delilah as it opened fire.

She dove to the side, the grenade launcher clattering to the ground beside the car as bullets hammered into the metal, pinging and ricocheting off the car’s frame. A few punched through the ancient metal with a spray of rust, narrowly missing her and Bryan, and she found herself screaming once more. The fire kept up for a few long, agonizing moments before it finally stopped. Through the ringing in her ears, Delilah could hear the mutant's guttural taunts and the heavy thud of footsteps echoing up the ramp—a chilling reminder that they were closing in fast.

Desperately, she readied her laser pistol, nudging Bryan, who was fumbling with his assault rifle, tears streaking down his face. Then, like a beacon of hope, the blessedly familiar bark of Altan’s rifle echoed, roaring in full auto.

She braved a glance past her cover and saw Altan, screaming obscenities as he limped forward, unleashing a torrent of gunfire on the mutants. Several were caught flatfooted, dropping in twitching piles of dead flesh. The minigun-wielding mutant lasted long enough to swing its menacing death-spitter at Altan, before Delilah’s grenade launcher thumped again, turning it into a red mist.

Altan held his position, struggling to reload his rifle before it slipped from his grasp, hanging loosely against his chest. With a grunt, he drew his laser pistol in one hand and his 10mm in the other, wielding them akimbo with shaking arms. When no more mutants emerged, he exhaled a wheezing breath before finally collapsing to the ground.