Clara’s mind wandered over the lights of their jeep’s headlights as Linton’s words echoed in her mind. It will change the world.

Clearing her throat, Clara quickly organised her thoughts. “Any ideas where the thieves headed after they stole the briefcase?” Clara said. You said they were cultists?”

“East, like I said, maybe somewhere in the mountains. We didn’t know there were any other humans in this area. We haven’t had any contact.” Gazing out of the window, Linton lowered his voice. “They must have been watching us.”

“They might not be entirely human.” Clara said, slowing their jeep to a crawl. “Andy, take over.” She shifted over to the passenger seat and checked her maps while Andy climbed over to the wheel. One-hundred miles east of Marsay, a mountain range stretched from the sea to far inland. Her apocalypse zoning maps suggested that the zombie infestation had spread beyond the mountains, but that didn’t omit the threat of anything else.

It had been eight years since the cataclysm had divided the world into zones of apocalypses. Since then, some zones had expanded while others had diminished. There might be more than just undead roaming these lands. The two scientists had talked about demon worshipping cultists. Clara had nothing like that in her map’s notes. Her and Andy had never travelled this far east before, and Clara’s maps contained only disparate reports of what apocalypses lay beyond the mountains. She hated travelling into the unknown. It was like casting out into the ocean, unable to see what lurked beneath the waters.

Clara studied her maps, planning a route until their fuel gauge hit halfway. She told Andy to pull over to fill up the tank–Clara didn’t like travelling on less than half, you never knew when you’d need it. Retrieving the medical kit from the boot, Clara went over their escortees’ wounds one at a time. Though they were bruised and battered, they were unbitten. She disinfected and redressed a week-old wound on Riddhi’s arm which she’d apparently sustained within the research facility itself.

“What’s that?” Linton said. He was shining one of Clara’s flashlights out of the window at the nearby treeline, flicking it this way and that into the shadows.

It was the fourth time the scientist had alerted them to nothing, and Clara’s reaction was much less enthusiastic than the first. “What?”

“There, in the dark.”

“A tree?”

Linton huffed. “Do you have a firearm I can requisition?”

Clara paused. She hadn’t considered it before, but could she trust Linton? He was paranoid and secretive. He might even be deranged after the trauma of it all. And besides, she didn’t know him. He claimed to work for Blue Eyes, but that was the only thing they had in common. And besides all of that, her instincts were telling her something was off.

“Are you trained to use one?” Clara asked.

“Am I trained? I’ve used one. I’ve had to. I know how. It’s not rocket science. It’s flick a switch and pull a trigger.”

“Linton.” Riddhi shared a look with her colleague. The wiry man’s face relaxed a notch, and he returned his attention to the roadside.

Clara took over the driving for a bit, following the route she’d mapped. In the backseat, Linton continued to shine the flashlight on the night road. Clara had hoped that once they were driving again, he’d put it away. But he was obsessed. “Linton. Excuse me.”

“Huh?” He didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“That’s not necessary.”

The older man muttered something which slid under the sound of their jeep’s engine.

“You’re wasting the battery, come on now.”

“You can recharge it in the morning.”

Andy made a show of turning around in the passenger seat, glaring at Linton. The scientist returned his gaze for a moment, before his eyes shifted to the flashlight in his lap, then he turned it off and kept his head bowed.

As their path took them around the outskirts of a coastal city, the roads grew more congested. Clara navigated the streets while their guests drifted to sleep beneath a blanket in the back. When morning came, the sun painted a highway of rusty, derelict vehicles in an auburn glaze. Clara yawned and checked her maps. They were close to the mountains now. Ahead was an old fuel station. Years ago, when Clara and Andy made their living as fuel jockeys, they’d stop off at every station they could find in search of a well they could plumb. Whether or not there was anything to salvage at the station, Clara needed to stretch her legs and have a moment of privacy.

Wrecked cars queued at the empty pumps, long since abandoned. Exiting the jeep, she eyed the ransacked station, its windows smashed and vandalised. One slogan spray-painted over the walls read: ‘Avoid the shadows’. Another read: ‘Immigration to blame.’ She took each with a pinch of salt.

Linton roused awake while Riddhi slept on his shoulder.

“Do you want some more water?” Clara asked them.

“Yes please,” Linton said, shifting out beneath his partner, resting her head gently on the back seat. “I’ll be right back,” he said, shuffling behind the gas station out of sight for a few minutes.

Clara passed him a bottle of water when he returned. “Lost your shoes?” she asked.

“I had to leave them at the children’s play park thing.”

“We can check the cars for some your size.”

Clara led the scientist around the wreckages, peaking through the windows in search of booted skeletons.

“Tell me more about these cultists who stole the tech,” she said.

“They were dressed like goths,” Linton said. “Do you remember goths? Oh, you might not, you’re quite young. They wore black leather and all of them had long hair. Silver jewellery. Bats and pentagons and tattoos of the devil. Evil people. Horrible music.”

“A cult?”

“Yes. They ambushed us as we escaped the laboratory. Seemed to know we were coming. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d directed the horde of zombies right at us. They were organised and well armed. Riddhi and I escaped, but as for the rest of us…”

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“Then they drove off east?” Clara asked. Linton had already told her as much, but she wanted to make sure he had his story straight.

“That’s right,” Linton said. His eyes wandered as he seemed to wrestle with a thought. “It might be better if you returned us to Quadra before we go on.”

“I…” Clara faltered. The old scientist looked shattered, and more than that, afraid. She hated being the bearer of bad news. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Linton’s breathing quickened. “Perhaps you can call for reinforcements and get them out here. Get some help. Blue Eyes would send a convoy if he knew what was at stake.”

Clara withdrew the radio from her hip. “Do you have anything with a stronger signal than this?”

Linton paused, then held out his hand. “Let me take a look at that.” He turned the radio over, tracing it with his fingers as though he might find an undiscovered amplification button on the back. “Maybe one of you can go back with us, and the other go on to retrieve the briefcase?”

Clara retrieved her radio. “That’s not happening.”

“But-”

“We’re professionals,” Clara said, “And we have a job–keep you alive and retrieve the payload. We won’t put you in harm's way. You’re safe with us now. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“What if I return on my own?” Linton said, but his voice was deflated.

“You sure you want to wander the wasteland alone? Without shoes?”

Linton didn’t answer, he just sat down in the doorway of a car, gazing at the ground. “Give me a minute, would you?”

Returning to their jeep, Clara removed a camp stove from their jeep’s boot and lit it up. Nothing lifted the spirits like a hot meal. She cracked half a dozen eggs into a fold-out pan, preparing flatbread and chutney while they fried. Once done, she put a kettle on the boil for coffee and portioned out the food into four mess tins. Andy woke to the smell of cooking eggs and wolfed his portion down. The two scientists took their food gratefully. Riddhi thanked her profusely, complimenting her cooking.

“It’s just eggs and a little sauce,” Clara said.

“It’s wonderful,” Riddhi insisted.

Clara smiled, handing each of them a ration bar for dessert to go with their hot coffee. Clara nipped into the service station toilet, then found a nice deflated wheel to rest against and took in the morning rays, sipping her coffee. She breathed in the morning air and leaned forward, stretching her legs. She checked the time. They had been stopped for thirty minutes, they could afford to rest for ten more.

They’d survived another night, but it had come close. Working for Blue Eyes was no joke. Already, the mission was getting out of hand. But clearly, pushing Andy to new extremes had paid off–his new Vortex ability was spectacular. And what’s more, if they could retrieve the payload and return to Quadra with everyone alive, they’d make a bomb. The price of the mission was already negotiated, but Clara was certain she could convince Blue Eyes of paying them a handsome bonus.

Clara imagined buying a proper cabin somewhere behind the walls of Quadra where she could spend time reading and studying the maps on her terminal. Clara reckoned that, assuming Linton wasn’t exaggerating the value of his research, she could trade the payload for all the data in the Visionaries’ archives… The secrets of the cataclysm at her fingertips.

Andy whooped, stumbling out of the gas station swinging a bottle around. “I can’t believe no one checked the ceiling tiles,” he said, throwing the bottle in the air and catching it. “Fifteen year old scotch. Apocalypse aged. Our luck’s looking up sis.”

He reached over to top-off her coffee, but Clara covered the flask with her hand. “No thanks.”

Andy waved the bottle at their escortees. “Specs? Ballpit?”

“No thank you,” the head researcher said. “My name is Linton, actually. And that’s Riddhi.”

Andy’s expression didn’t change. He swigged the bottle and embellished in a loud “Aghh”, smacking his lips. “Good stuff.”

Clara began packing down for departure, then a rhythmic sound caught her attention. It started off as just a thumping beat, but grew with a low riff.

“Did you fix the player?” she asked.

Andy leaned out of the passenger seat, bottle in hand, looking at her blankly.

“One of you?” she asked the scientists. They were each dozing in the back seat.

“Excuse me?” Linton said.

Clara paused to listen. “Can you hear music?”

Andy’s expression suddenly turned serious. Clara dropped the stove in the boot and unloaded her high calibre rifle from a duffel bag. Fixing the scope, she checked the magazine and cocked a round into the chamber. Flicking the rifle’s bipod onto the bonnet of their jeep, she aimed it down the motorway towards the sound of music. A repetitive thud punctuated shrill screaming and a droning bass. The frequencies dipped in and out, floundering over the distance, then a glint in the sunlight gave away the approaching vehicle. The sleek, black van sped down the motorway, recklessly weaving between obstacles.

Andy advanced forward, using derelict cars for cover. Clara trained her sights on the driver’s side of the front window, adjusting for distance and conditions.

“I have a shot,” she said over the radio. “But we don’t know if they’re friendly.”

“I’ll ask,” Andy said, walking out of cover and into the middle of the road.

“Andy, get back.”

He waved his hand at her in dismissal.

“Do you recognise the van?” she asked the scientists. They shrugged. She ushered them up to the scope of her rifle for a closer look.

“My eyesight isn’t the best,” Linton said. “But the music sounds the same.”

Clara pursed her lips sceptically and moved back behind her scope.

“It is them,” Linton said, though his voice wavered. “Shoot them. Kill them. They’re who took it.”

“Sit back down,” Clara said, not taking her eye off the road.

“Quickly, don’t let them pass. They’re dangerous, they can’t see us.”

“Man,” Clara said, briefly forgetting the scientist’s name in her anger. “Shut up. Don’t distract me.”

Riddhi took the man by the arm and steered him away from Clara. She breathed through her frustration, refocusing her sights on the van. Andy was standing in the middle of the road, shoulders and hips squared against the oncoming van. He held the bottle of scotch in one hand, his other hung over his revolver, fingers splayed like the jaws of a cobra.

The registration plate on the van had been removed, so Clara had to guess which side the driver’s seat would be on. She shifted her crosshair to the right, assuming the vehicle was from the continent pre-cat.

Something pinged off the road far to Clara’s right. Moments later, the pop of gunfire sounded from the van. Two more pings and pops followed. Andy drew his revolver as Clara squeezed the trigger. They fired at the same time.

The van’s windshield shattered and the vehicle swerved, colliding with a barrier at the motorway’s edge. It tipped onto its side with a piercing shriek and slid down the road until it crashed into the back of a derelict lorry and stopped.

Andy blew the barrel of his revolver. “What a shot,” he shouted.

“Thanks,” Clara radioed.

“Oh, you’re going to take credit?” he yelled down the road..

“Check the wreckage if you want, your shot hit the passenger side, mine slew the driver.”

“Slew?”

“Yeah,” Clara said. “Slew.” She aimed down the scope, checking the crash site for any movement. The front of the van faced her, while the back was obscured from view, dented and lodged beneath the lorry’s rear wheels.

“If you did kill him,” Andy radioed. “It’s cause I trained you well.”

“Yeah, and your Augmentation trained you well too.”

The radio feed crackled twice and went silent before Andy had a response. “Rude.”

“Oh,” Clara radioed. “Did you turn your powers off for that shot to put us on even footing?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“What a gentleman.”

Andy sauntered down the motorway ahead of her towards the crashed van, spinning his revolver around his finger. “Let’s go say hi to our guests.”