The empty bottles were piling up on the mill table. The alcohol was warming up the atmosphere. Outside, cheerful voices echoed. Engrossed in the celebration, our companions chatted away, oblivious to the passing time. Two good hours had gone by during which they discussed everything and nothing. From vital subjects to the most trivial, from past adventures to future plans, nothing was spared.

Now, they were debating who among them would be willing, in an extreme situation, of course, to swallow a Goliath snail:

"No, you don't understand! What I mean is... personally, if I were truly starving... starving to the point of gnawing on the mast of my ship, you know? Well, I think that..." Lloyd defended. "What...?" Venig responded, waiting. "Well, I would devour its gastropod face, without any remorse!" "That's disgusting!" Venig replied, repulsed.

"But no, not at all! Listen... First, I would boil it in a huge cauldron, then I would take it out of its shell, and finally, I would cut it up Korean barbecue style! Well, I admit I would probably regret it afterward... when I'm crouched over a hole, holding my stomach. But hey, in times of necessity, you have to know how to..." Venig interrupted him in a low voice, "Lloyd, we need to move. Right now." "What are you talking about? The kid isn't stupid, he wouldn't do anything reckless. Let's have one last drink and join him..." Lloyd joked. Venig's gaze was enough to make him serious again. He fell silent. With a nod of his head, the Breton indicated an opening in the wall. They approached it stealthily. Lloyd didn't immediately understand what he wanted to show him.

Outside, the sky had taken on that characteristic burnt hue of mid-afternoon. The winds blew vigorously up high, carrying the clouds and giving the impression of a flock of dark birds in flight. Taking advantage of this lull, the fauna and flora were bustling with fervor. A gentle breeze caressed the trees, spreading a pleasant scent of dried pine. In the distance, a small grove rose on a faded hill, its treetops blending with the color of the sky. Something caught his gaze towards the peaks, but he couldn't precisely identify what captivated his attention. Then, he saw it. A nearly motionless form, concealed among the evergreens, cleverly camouflaged by a refracting alloy. Only the propellers of the drone betrayed its presence.

How long had he been observing them? "Hiding like a coward," Lloyd fumed in silence. He nodded at Venig to indicate that he had spotted the intruder, then gestured towards the exit with another nod. Venig agreed and began counting on his fingers. Three... He grabbed his jacket. Two... His backpack. One... They rushed through the door. The surroundings of the mill were deserted. To their left, the old road ran alongside the river. The few scattered trees here and there provided meager shelter. To the right, the remains of the constructed riverbank exposed them to the clutches of the machine. So, they continued straight ahead, without looking back, fleeing as far as possible in the opposite direction of their pursuer.

After a frantic run of 500 meters, Venig shouted, "TO THE RIGHT, INTO THE WOODS!" and sharply turned starboard. Lloyd came to a screeching halt and followed closely behind. Further up, young ash trees guarded the edge of a wooded area that ran along the coast. They plunged into it with relief. Sheltered by the trees, they ventured deeper into the leafy canopy to catch their breath. With the corner of their eye, they kept watch for their pursuer through the foliage.

"Do you see that selletaer?" Venig whispered.

"No, but we haven't shaken him off... He must be waiting for us to come out. Or maybe he's already alerted his buddies... and there are probably three or four squads of the GC heading our way as we speak. Either way, it's a mess," Lloyd replied, putting on his jacket.

"Three or four? You're generous, Lloyd. At my age, even one would be too many," Venig said.

"Don't worry, old man. Your old carcass still has some agility left, evidence being that you dragged it here," Lloyd retorted.

"Always the witty one... aren't you, kabiten?" Venig smiled.

"What can I say? At my age... you can't change. And don't call me that or tell me what it means..." Lloyd sighed.

In response, Venig tapped his shoulder before continuing, "Well, if we don't want a squadron of the GC on our tail, we'd better not waste Mr. Spier's time. It might encourage him to call for reinforcements."

"What are you thinking...? You want to take him down?" Lloyd asked, surprised.

"Take him down? Yes. Something like that," grumbled Venig, enigmatic.

"Okay, I'm completely onboard with taking down whatever you want, but there's a small problem... I'm not armed. I lost my rifle when the GC caught up with us this morning."

"Well, then I think we don't have a choice. Let's head down to the lookout to find the farm and our weapons, then we dismantle his genoù," Venig proposed.

"You've got my interest," admitted Lloyd. "But if we do that and reveal the camp's position, we'll have to get out of here quickly."

"Do you see a better option? Staying here won't get us any further," Venig emphasized.

Lloyd pondered for a moment and eventually concluded, "After all, it's not me who's going to object to a simple and violent solution. I'm with you, old man."

Protected by the foliage, they followed the coast for a good five kilometers. The vegetation gave way to concrete and asphalt. A small village opened its doors to them, but only abandoned ruins remained. A twisted sign still stood, bearing traces of a name erased by time: "...the-lake." They continued along the road, blocked by sandbags, while scanning the horizon.

The skies were low, filled with fast-moving dark clouds. A true sea of darkness roiled above their heads. The speed of the winds reassured them, knowing that no lightweight aircraft could navigate through them. Finally, they arrived at a gas station parking lot. A pole lay sprawled on the ground, obstructing the road.

Observing the dormant screens, Venig commented, "Imagine, we were ready to pay 3.5 bucks for a liter of this crap?"

Lloyd replied, "I don't know, my parents never had a car. So the price of oil didn't really concern us. But water, now that worried my old man." He looked pensive.

Venig nodded and added, "Ah, I think everyone went through that. Even us in Normandy, and we had plenty..."

Lloyd abruptly interrupted him, "Venig, wait, we have company!"

In the sky, a motionless spot was rapidly growing. They leaped over the pole and started running up the road. The drone abandoned all attempts at stealth and followed them from a distance. In the distance, they caught sight of the lake where the river poured into it. One more effort and they would be within reach of the bridge. Behind them, the menacing shape observed their every move. Its undulating silhouette appeared with each gust of wind as they ascended the main street that ran through the town.

Finally, the asphalt left the ground to touch the black surface of the water, which churned with a mass of fins and scales. Giant schools of fish feasted on the provisions brought by the wind. Taking advantage of the opportunity, hungry birds swooped in to hunt. A cacophony of cries and splashes reached our companions. Powerful seagulls dived in large numbers to extract fish from their aquatic abode. Working together in pairs or threes, they ascended with talons full. However, the fish fought back, diving to avoid the birds' assaults, leaping to free their captured kin, tearing wings and legs. Soon, it became difficult to distinguish predator from prey. The blitzkrieg of seagulls turned into their Waterloo. When the spectacle came to an end, a bedraggled and crestfallen flock fled with their meager, hard-earned catch.

Meanwhile, Lloyd and Venig had reached three-quarters of the bridge. Beyond that, the collapsed remnants lay at the bottom of the water. In their place, a rusted footbridge served as a passage. Behind them, not a trace of the patrol drone remained. Not a sound either.

"Do you think it ran out of battery?" Lloyd asked, perched on a railing.

"No, I don't think so. It must have landed to conserve power. Let's not delay, the winds are picking up. The kid could be in deep kaoc'h," Venig replied, jumping over the small gate that closed off the platform. He took the lead, with Lloyd close behind.

With utmost caution, they advanced on the swaying footbridge, gripping tightly onto the rails on either side. The gusts of wind intensified, causing the metal beneath their feet to creak. They knew that every step counted, that the slightest misstep could send them plunging into the turbulent waters below. Their hearts raced as they approached the other end of the footbridge. Every moment was crucial, every second seemed eternal. Their gazes intensely focused on their objective, ignoring the chaotic movements of the waves below. Their knees trembled as they finally set foot on the other bank, greeted by closed barriers.

On the side, a large sign topped with the word "STOP" displayed a tourist message: "You have just crossed the Durance, drive carefully." Behind it, deserted tents awaited, buried in dust. Under torn canvas, crates of ammunition and several racks of firearms rested.

"They don't make them like this anymore!" Venig commented.

The rest of the town was just as desolate. The streets were littered with debris and trash, evidence of long-gone human activity. Dilapidated buildings stood like frozen ghosts in time, their broken windows allowing black dust to seep in, which had invaded the place. The dust settled on every surface, covering everything with a grayish veil, erasing the colors of the past. As they moved forward, their steps kicked up black clouds, giving the air a strange hue. They traversed silent streets, disturbed only by the sound of their breathing and the crunch of rubble under their boots. Each street corner seemed to reveal a bit more of the extent of the oblivion that had taken over the city. Finally, they passed by a dilapidated sign: "Leaving Savine." A familiar buzzing resumed behind them.

*

Struggling along the river, Venig and Lloyd faced a treacherous and unpredictable path. The steep trail made every step uncertain, forcing them to find their balance between slippery stones and tangled roots. But the incessant buzzing of the drone behind them gave them wings. Venig never took his eyes off the device throughout the journey, casting nervous glances at Lloyd. As they approached the camp, worry mingled with excitement. The imminent confrontation and its potentially fatal outcome challenged them. Soon, there would be no turning back. Soon, they would have to face it, whatever the cost. While they pushed forward, the drone disappeared once again behind the trees, planting doubt in their minds. The longed-for farmhouse was in sight, but the rough road had exhausted them.

"I still don't see it, Lloyd," Venig worried.

"Don't worry, it'll come back once we're inside. They won't be able to resist the urge to follow us. Guys like us, we're like... a fly to shit. They'll want to know what we're up to," Lloyd tried to reassure him.

Despite his words, Venig remained concerned as he approached the entrance. Boot prints went in and out of the building, leading further towards the back. "Make the kid succeed," he silently hoped. Lifting the tarp, he entered the farmhouse.

Inside, chaos reigned. The imposing wooden table they had kept was now covered with a multitude of pairs of glasses. "Why the hell did he take all this out?" Venig wondered, surprised that his privacy had been violated in such a way. Most of the transport crates remained open, and their contents cluttered the floor.

"Damn, the kid really went all out! He should have asked me where I had put the baloon before taking off, that idiot!" exclaimed Lloyd, oscillating between amusement and dismay as he entered the room.

"Let's just say he wanted to overdo it," Venig tempered.

"Yeah... Have you happened to see my weapons in all this mess?" Lloyd asked.

"I just arrived, like you," Venig remarked. Lloyd grumbled and began hastily rummaging through the clutter.

Through the window, Venig scanned the horizon, detecting no trace of the drone.

"Are you going to help me or what? They could show up any second now, and we're more defenseless than a virgin on her wedding night!" called out Lloyd. "Venig, are you listening to me?! Venig...?!"

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Venig turned around, pale. He raised three fingers and silently mouthed the words "killer drones."

In a flash, they frantically started searching the ground. Suddenly, a devastating explosion reverberated, shaking the foundations of the farmhouse. Venig held tightly onto a phaser that was lying around, while Lloyd pulled a sniper rifle from its case. The force of the blast violently threw them to the ground. With a deafening noise, the roof collapsed, burying them under the debris in an instant. The sounds of propellers approached, dissipating the smoke that escaped from the collapsed farmhouse.

Buried beneath the rubble, hidden beneath the heavy table, our two friends regained their senses, dazed. "Any major injuries, Breton?" murmured Lloyd, panting. Venig shook his head, indicating that he was fine.

"I'm fine too," Lloyd resumed. "But we're in deep shit. Killer drones... one of the worst damn things our kind has created. Just our luck. By any chance, did you see what they looked like?"

"Why? Is it important what they look like, Lloyd?" Venig asked, perplexed.

"Just answer me, that's all!" Lloyd insisted.

"Alright, alright, no need to get worked up. I'm warning you, I didn't have much time to observe them. They were maybe... let's say twice the size of the one we encountered earlier. Four propellers. A stabilizer. A stasis cannon. Optical camouflage..." He listed the features on his fingers.

"And the cameras, did you see them?" Lloyd asked impatiently.

"The cameras...? What do you want me to tell you about the cameras?" Venig asked, surprised.

"The number of lenses, their positioning, the angle relative to the body, their size..." Lloyd enumerated.

"I don't know, I caught a brief glimpse..."

"Come on, think, old man!"

"Well... I'm sure there was a pair of cameras. In the middle of the head, like on crabs. As for the angle, I have no bloody idea, who pays attention to that? They were medium-sized, I'd say..."

"Two cameras... Hmm, interesting. The number of lenses?" Lloyd insisted.

"Honestly, I don't know. I don't want to say any bullshit."

"Venig...!"

"Maybe two... or three. No, really, I have no idea."

"Two?! Are you sure?!"

"I'm telling you, I'm not."

"But you said two!"

"Yes, it could be two."

"Do you know what that means?!"

"No, but you're going to enlighten me."

"It means those idiots are still using the GB-12 cameras. Haha, damn amateurs! Want to know? The GC ordered entire shipments of them when they hit the market. But unfortunately, it turned out that the then-CIO was colluding with the manufacturer to embezzle money. As a result, none of the cameras from the order had a thermal lens. What a shame for the so-called world leaders in security. Yet, it didn't stop them from equipping all their drones with them. All that money couldn't go to waste, right? Maybe the stocks still haven't run out... Here's the plan: I have a smoke grenade in my pocket, I kept it for escaping from a Hercules bear or something like that, but I think now is the right time to use it. We make our way through the debris with the laser. I throw the grenade. Their cameras won't be able to see us anymore. We head to the woods, from there we can take them down quietly."

"Or maybe I miscounted the lenses. They have a thermal lens. We get out. We're screwed. Besides, you're relying on potentially outdated information. Remind me, how long has it been since you left the Global Cortex... fifteen years? Twenty years? Do you really think they're using such ancient equipment?" Venig lamented, dejected.

"If you have a better solution, feel free to share," Lloyd replied, smirking. "I would like to point out that we're stuck under a table, at the mercy of three piles of scrap metal." Venig remained silent. "Well, it's decided. Get ready, old man! It's going to be rock 'n roll!"

He turned the dial on the stock of his weapon, causing a dozen flashes of light that blinded Venig. When his vision returned, Lloyd had vanished. Through a smoky gap, faint daylight seeped in. He heard Lloyd shout, "Hurry up, you old bastard! It won't hold all day!"

Coming back to his senses, Venig gripped his weapon tightly and squeezed through the opening. Outside, chaos reigned. The dust kicked up by the explosion mingled with the smoke from the grenade, creating a suffocating atmosphere. The sounds of impacts resonated all around them, a sign that the combat drones weren't giving up. "Damn it, Lloyd, maybe they can't see us, but that doesn't stop them from hitting us," Venig thought anxiously.

However, his concern was momentarily eclipsed by the unusual sight of his friend. Lloyd was cheerfully whistling amidst enemy fire, moving with disconcerting ease to the rhythm of the bursts, getting closer to the edge of the forest.

Without wasting any time, Venig hurried to join him before the cover dissipated completely. The impact of the shots lifted the ground, adding to the cacophony. Venig felt the menacing presence of drones around him and heard them reloading. One, two, three bursts whizzed by nearby. He mentally counted five seconds, rushing forward at each interval. One, two, three bursts. Five seconds. One, two, three bursts. Five seconds. One, two, three bursts. He was now halfway there. Under the protection of the trees, Lloyd signaled to him. One, two, three bursts. Two seconds. Venig neared three-quarters of the way. He stumbled. Three seconds. Grass and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Four seconds. A violent jolt followed by a thud resounded. Five seconds. One, two bursts. The smoke gradually dissipated, revealing a lifeless enemy drone just a few steps away. Its counterparts were frantically spraying the thickets with gunfire.

In a split second, Venig knelt down, adjusted his aim, and the phaser hummed in his hands. An electric wave surged from the weapon, hitting the nearest target head-on. The drone hovered in the air for a moment before crashing heavily to the ground. Barely had Venig had time to target the third drone when it swooped down on him at breakneck speed. He squeezed the trigger again. The electric wave shot out from the phaser, the rotors of the drone engaged. A red streak cut through the sky, and molten metal crashed just inches away from him. A gaping hole now adorned the drone's carcass. Behind him, Lloyd ran up, his weapon glowing red.

A helping hand grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. They allowed themselves a brief pause to catch their breath. Their bodies were covered in a mix of mud, blood, and pine needles. Their clothes bore the marks of the explosion, a testament to the intensity of the battle. An acrid smell of burning filled the air, while the collapsed farmhouse, about fifty meters behind them, was engulfed in flames.

Dazed, they hurried towards the truck, moving it away from the fire that threatened to consume it. Their helpless gaze fell upon the equipment and provisions that were devoured by the voracious flames. In front of them, the vehicle had miraculously survived the explosion, although its tarpaulin was now charred and its body bore the marks of the impact. The intense heat emanating from the flames caused the metal to vibrate, creating a visual distortion. The tires, exposed to the intense heat, crackled and deformed until they burst under the pressure.

Without hesitation, Venig pulled on the scorching handle of the door. In a scream of pain, it opened. Lloyd rushed inside the truck, nearly stumbling on the step, and turned on the ignition. The engine roared with power, drowning out the crackling of the flames that surrounded them. The transmission briefly grinded before engaging, propelling the truck out of the inferno, carrying with it the debris of their destroyed shelter. Limping on its flat tires, it parked not far away.

Meanwhile, Venig swallowed his pain, contemplating the burn running along his palm. His skin had become tough and dry, blackened in places. In the center of the burn, the raw flesh began to swell, fueled by an incandescent heat. Near him, Lloyd emerged from the cabin. He asked in a voice filled with concern, "How bad is it, old man?"

"My hand is scorched, I need water to stop the burning," Venig responded in a strained voice, gritting his teeth to contain the pain.

"Wait, I have something better than that," Lloyd said, heading towards the trailer. The remnants of the tarp continued to burn, radiating heat onto the surrounding metal. Using a thick branch, he attempted to unlock the doors, but the expanded metal and the frailty of the lever foiled his efforts. Resigned, he decided to enter through the interior passage, using the driver's side door that remained open. As he entered the cabin, the heat inside was stifling, but he was relieved to see that the seats were not on fire. Squeezing through the narrow space with difficulty, he finally reached the interior of the trailer where the air became almost unbreathable. At any moment, he feared that the batteries would explode in front of his face. Shielding his face in the crook of his elbow, he hurriedly searched the crates and cabinets for what he was looking for.

Finally, he found it: a frost spray. The army used it to stabilize wounds on the front lines, but he mainly used it to make cold bombs. These products were incredibly effective at cooling burned flesh. Tucking the aerosol into his pocket, he quickly exited the trailer, contorting himself until he reached the cabin, and jumped out of the flaming coffin. Venig was waiting, sitting on a rock, protecting his wound with a torn piece of fabric. Lloyd approached him swiftly. With caution, he turned the dial on the bottom of the bottle. Directing the nozzle towards his friend's outstretched hand, he pressed the trigger, releasing a bluish gas. Under the effect of the substance, the skin whitened slightly, and a thin layer of frost formed on the surface of the burn. After ten seconds of this treatment, the fire that ravaged Venig's nerves subsided. A crust of ice covered his palm.

Nightfall had arrived, but they had to wait another half hour before they could return to the truck. The temperature inside was barely bearable, but fortunately, the metal was no longer burning to the touch. Even better, they managed to open the doors of the trailer, which proved useful in retrieving a spare set of tires and hydraulic jacks. An hour later, with new tires installed, they resumed their journey towards the cathedral. The road was bumpy, the bull bar tearing a path through thorny bushes, and the body of the truck jolting over hidden bumps and potholes in the grass. On the horizon, a storm approached, the cold glow of the moon revealing particles carried by the wind. After a few turns, the silhouette of the building emerged in the darkness. They entered the deserted square.

Lloyd skillfully maneuvered the truck and managed to park it in front of the entrance. They quickly jumped onto the ground. Outside, the weather was in a frenzy. Dust swirled, scratching their faces and seeping into their boots. The wind howled, accompanied by the thunder drums that resonated through the night. Suddenly, a shrill cry pierced through the chaotic requiem. Amidst the surrounding cacophony, it was difficult to determine its source. Anxious gazes wandered, hoping not to discover Norman's dying body.

The gusts of wind intensified, further amplifying the atmosphere of terror. A new, chilling scream made their blood run cold. It seemed to emanate from inside the building. They rushed through the opening of the door, their hearts pounding, desperately scanning the vast prayer hall. No trace of their friend. The scream echoed once again, spreading through the nave. They frantically searched in every direction, their disbelief growing, until Venig shook Lloyd's shoulder in despair. He pointed to something on the back wall. In a discouraged voice, he said, "It's coming from there..."

Perplexed, Lloyd replied, "I don't see anything at all. Are you talking about the kid?"

Venig shook his head and said, "No, the organ pipes. The sound is coming from there... There's nothing but wind in the bellows." Lloyd took out his flashlight, which illuminated the brass pipes. "Damn it all!" he grumbled, spitting. "Stupid piano."

Venig paced back and forth. Meanwhile, Lloyd worried quietly, "Damn it, kid! Don't do this to us, not now! We can't stay here, our position is compromised." He then addressed Venig, "Come on, old man, let's take one last look and get out of here. We need to expand our search area. He couldn't have gone far. If necessary, we'll retrace our steps to..."

He stopped when he saw Venig staring intensely into the darkness of the bell tower. Approaching him, he asked, "Do you see something?"

"I'm not sure... Do you see that thing up there?" Venig replied.

"In this darkness, I wouldn't even see a goat jump in my face," Lloyd remarked sarcastically, directing the beam of his flashlight toward the ceiling.

The light revealed an imposing figure perched on the edge of a hatch. Below, a ladder was visible. Lloyd became excited, "Great Scott, it must be him! Go get me the crossbow and some rope! I'm going up there to get him."

Venig disappeared through the door and returned shortly after, his arms laden with a heavy trunk. Lloyd retrieved the old hunting crossbow from its case. He modified the bolt to attach the end of the rope. In record time, he positioned the projectile between the rungs of the ladder. Once the rope was secured, he began to climb. However, when he reached the top, he had to face the truth: Norman was no longer there. Only the remnants of the balloon, which he had spent three days repairing, bore witness to his presence. What they had mistaken for their friend was actually just the control mechanism of the apparatus, stuck against the ledge. Lloyd shouted in frustration, "He's not here, Venig! We missed him!"

"What happened?" Venig asked.

"I don't know. All that's left is the control terminal and the rope up here. It seems the wind carried away the balloon, but I don't think it took the kid with it... I would have found evidence here," replied Lloyd.

"If the rope is here with us, it means he couldn't have used it to descend... Do you see anything that could help us locate him...?" Venig inquired.

"Venig, there's a cable hanging along the exterior wall!" Lloyd interrupted excitedly.

"Perfect, he might have used it! Follow it and see if we can trace his path," Venig suggested.

Lloyd rappelled down the bell tower, and Venig joined him outside.

"There's blood here," Lloyd said tensely, pointing to a pile of stones.

"So, he was injured. Alright... Any traces of mud? Dust?" Venig inquired.

"Yes, down below. Scattered around for a few meters," observed Lloyd.

"That's a good sign. It means he was able to jump," noted Venig.

"You call that a good sign? We're still eight meters above the ground..." Lloyd tempered.

"Don't you see any crushed human remains, do you?" Venig emphasized.

"Somebody could have picked them up..."

"So, let's assume he's still with us," sighed Venig. "That seems like a more encouraging working hypothesis."

"Whatever you say, old man."

"So, I was saying, he wanted to jump, but where? Do you have any ideas from your vantage point? Any suggestions? Where would you jump, for instance?"

"Me? Hmm, I think I'd bet on the roof. It's a bit far, but it would be easy for me to reach the ground if I made it."

"That seems plausible, what do you think?"

"At first glance, not much. No blood on the tiles. They don't appear to have been moved. No impact marks."

"Look closer. Check further upstream."

"Then there are the beams... No one would be crazy enough to jump from this height onto a rotten piece of wood... Ah! Wait... I think I've got something! Blood, a lot of blood. The structure is broken at this spot."

"And nothing else? Any signs of movement in the runoff?" Venig asked.

"No, they're straight."

"So... he fell!" Venig exclaimed.

He rushed to the ground below Lloyd. Dried blood stained the stone, but only a few droplets. "It doesn't add up," he murmured.

"What are you saying?" Lloyd asked.

"I'm saying he didn't touch the ground," Venig concluded.