Patrick, balanced on one leg, tossed another bag of provisions toward the jeep with a grunt and the crutch supporting him awkwardly. Jude caught the bag midair, quickly wedging it into the crowded trunk.
“You gonna be alright?” Jude asked as he secured the last of the supplies.
Patrick shot him a tired look, rolling his eyes. “I’ve had my fill of adventures with you here, thanks. Time for a well-deserved vacation.” His tone was dry, laced with humour, though his voice hinted that he wasn’t entirely joking.
Delila leaned casually against Patrick’s shoulder, her weight shifting as she flashed Jude a grin. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this one.”
Patrick gave a sarcastic snort, glancing sideways at her. “Yeah, right. I watched you clean up the floor earlier—it was like nothing ever happened. The dust was still there like it had a new home.”
Delila shrugged, her grin widening. “Hey, at least I didn’t destroy the place,” she shot back, looking at Jude.
Jude slammed the trunk shut, dust kicking up as the latch clicked into place. He turned back toward Patrick and Delila, his hand running through his hair, a half-smile playing on his lips. “Well… we should be back in a couple of days, I think,” he said, “Thanks for everything… you guys are... alright.”
Patrick smirked, shaking his head. “Facts are facts.” He reached out and pulled Jude into a tight hug, surprising him for a second before Jude returned it, clapping Patrick on the back. He turned next to Delila, giving her the same.
“Good luck with whatever madness you’re walking into,” she said. “Take care. You’ve still gotta meet Len,” she added. "But that is a whole other adventure."
Jude chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he climbed into the driver’s seat. "If she ever wakes up," he muttered.
Lazaro slid into the passenger seat beside him, stretching out with an easy grin, while Lucy, lost in her own world in the backseat, rummaged through her backpack. No longer pink, Lucy's backpack now sported a bold yellow smiley face, its eyes replaced with black X's, set against a black background.
Outside, Delila gave the jeep two quick slaps on the side, her silent signal it was time. The engine rumbled to life, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tyres as they set off toward A7, leaving the gas station, humans, and friends behind.
----------------------------------------
A7 gave off an eerie sense of déjà vu as they approached—rows of military jeeps lined up in neat formation, just like the starting point. But here, the gates were wide open, the air buzzing with quiet signs of life. Figures moved in the distance, and the faint hum of conversation and clinking metal drifted from somewhere within the settlement. Unlike the deserted military base where everything started for Jude, this place was alive.
It felt as if the soldiers from the first settlement had all retreated here, hidden away behind these gates.
Jude slowed the jeep as they neared the row of parked vehicles, glancing at Lazaro with a sceptical look. "You think it’s safe to just park here?"
Lazaro barely glanced up. "Yeah, they’re chill."
Jude scanned the area, spotting clusters of people lingering in the distance. "Why so many of them here? Something feels off."
Lazaro sighed, his eyes following the same path. "They just follow their last order, so they never moved out. They’re still..." he paused, "...connected."
"Connected? So, what—stuck?"
Lazaro nodded slowly. "Yeah. They’re stuck here until they die."
Jude killed the engine, and the hum of the jeep faded away. Lazaro and Lucy moved quickly, grabbing only the essentials from the trunk—just enough to get by for a few days.
As they walked toward the main gate, no one came to check on them; no curious faces greeted them. The place felt oddly exposed, an open space without the usual tension of military formality. It was as if they had walked into a town that had long since stopped expecting visitors.
They made their way to the central building, its exterior resembling a weathered tavern. From inside came the sounds of clinking glasses, boisterous laughter, and the shuffle of cards on tables. The place buzzed with life—voices rising in animated conversation, the steady rhythm of drinks being poured, and the occasional cheer from a winning hand.
But the moment Jude stepped through the doorway, the energy evaporated. Conversations halted mid-sentence, glasses paused mid-air, and every head in the room turned toward him. The air plunged underwater as if the presence of a stranger had shattered something fragile.
Jude’s hand awkwardly lifted in a wave, his smile uneasy. “Hi...”
A gruff voice broke the silence. “You’re the kid who can mess with things inside the head... with your mind, right?”
Another voice, more cautious, muttered, “We should get Delila.”
A third voice, louder now, yelled across the room, “Someone call Delila!”
Jude’s smile wavered, turning nervous as he shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their stares. Lazaro, standing beside him, looked exhausted, his eyes half-lidded as if he'd heard this all before. He sighed and spoke with a resigned tone, “Leave Delila alone. She can’t block him.”
The room stayed still, and no one moved to challenge Lazaro’s words.
Not a single clink of glass, a murmur, or even the sound of breath. The stillness pressed in as if everyone was waiting for an order.
Then, suddenly, a voice broke through like a burst of energy. “For fuck’s sake, people! That’s Saint Lazaro, one of us, the first child! And Saint Jude—the one who’s gonna bring us all the answers to our prayers!”
All heads turned to her as she stepped forward, her long red dreadlocks swinging wildly behind her. Dressed head-to-toe in mismatched white—tight pants, a form-fitting shirt, and an oversized white coat—she looked like she had walked straight out of some other world entirely. Her wild hair was held back by a pair of oversized goggles perched on top of her head, adding to her bizarre, almost surreal appearance.
“Should be offering them a seat and a damn cup of beer!” she continued, her hands on her hips, her fiery presence snapping the room out of its daze. She was out of place, like a character pulled from a completely different story, but somehow, she owned the room.
With an easy stride, she approached Jude, extending her hand as if they were old friends. “Saint Teresa,” she introduced herself with a grin. “But you can call me Tess... or Teresa. Actually, I like Teresa better.”
Jude accepted her hand, his grip firm. “Jude... though you probably knew that already.”
As they shook hands, Teresa gave a sly smile, turning his hand over slightly. Her gaze flicked to where his finger used to be. “I see you decided not to reattach it.”
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
Jude chuckled. “Lazaro said he’s keeping it for his collection.”
Teresa rolled her eyes, her grin widening. “Lazaro’s full of shit sometimes. You’ll get used to it.”
“I’m starting to notice,” Jude replied.
From beside them, Lazaro huffed dramatically, crossing his arms. “I’m still here, you know.”
Without skipping a beat, Jude and Teresa said in unison, “We know.”
Teresa clapped her hands together, "I like you already, kid!" Then, turning toward the others. “Alright, I’m guessing you came for the landmark scanner. Let’s head to my office.”
Teresa’s so-called office was more of a chaotic storage room, with paper, blueprints, and schematics strewn across every available surface. Towers of 3D models cluttered the shelves, and the desk was buried so deep under the mess it had all but vanished.
Yet, despite the disorder, Teresa wove through it all like she knew every misplaced item’s exact spot. She somehow found her chair, sinking into it with a satisfied sigh, gesturing at the others.
“Please, sit,” she offered casually as if the piles of scattered debris around them weren’t swallowing the space whole.
Jude glanced around the room, his eyes darting over the chaos of crumpled papers buried over the backs of chairs. Lucy’s gaze mirrored his, scanning the clutter, while Lazaro stood keeping his arms crossed.
“Thanks, but I’ll stand,” Jude muttered, trying to hide his discomfort as he eyed a stack of files threatening to collapse.
“Suit yourself, kiddo,” Teresa said with a shrug, her back already turned to them. She tapped a small console on the wall, and a glowing map flickered to life before them, illuminating the room in a soft light. Jude stared at it, feeling a knot form in his stomach. He couldn’t shake the creeping sense that the word "simulation" didn’t quite fit what they were seeing anymore.
Teresa’s fingers danced across the map as it glowed on the wall. “Next stop is B7, right?” she asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. Her eyes flicked over the map, pinpointing the location. “This area should be open for both of you,” she continued, her voice trailing off as she squinted at the screen, her thoughts clearly wandering. “But you still need a scanner to level up... hmm.” She mumbled the last part more to herself than to anyone in the room, her brow furrowing as if B7 held secrets.
Lucy leaned in, eyes narrowing as she tried to make sense of the map, curiosity written all over her face. "What is there?" she asked.
Teresa barely glanced over her shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “It’s an old military zone—abandoned,” she said, flicking her hand at the map dismissively.
“The boys there? They’re just hanging here now, killing time, not expecting any new orders. Let’s just say,” her voice dropped into a conspiratorial tone, “someone cut their connection to the UGS.”
She turned fully now, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “And by someone, I mean me,” she added with a soft chuckle.
Jude didn’t hesitate and bluntly asked. "Are you the one who’s been sending the monthly reports to UGS?"
Teresa blinked, genuinely taken aback, her head tilting in confusion. "Reports?" she repeated, her brows knitting together. “I couldn’t put together a simple SUM formula if my life depended on it. Why on Earth would you think that?”
Jude shifted his weight. “That’s why they sent me. The latest reports—” he paused, “—they don’t match up. Numbers keep repeating themselves.”
Teresa’s brows shot up in genuine surprise, her confusion deepening. “I’m not sending reports,” she said slowly, her eyes narrowing as if trying to piece together something in her mind. “Never did.” She glanced at Lazaro, who leaned casually against a stack of papers.
He shook his head. “Nope, not me,” he confirmed, "Don't look at me."
Teresa’s eyes widened, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. "Who the fuck is still sending reports?" she muttered, more to herself than anyone. Her gaze snapped back to Jude. "I cut the damn connection—they should be completely in the dark about what’s going on here."
She stood up and paced for a moment, turning back to him. "And here I thought you were sent to learn and then sell us out. But just for reports? What the fuck are they thinking?"
Jude shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room, hoping for answers that weren’t coming. “Maybe… that’s exactly why they sent me?”
She leaned closer, her eyes locking onto Jude’s with an unsettling intensity. “Listen, baby boy, sweet child,” she started, her voice smooth but laced with something darker. “You disconnect from this place, and your frontal cortex will fry. All that beautiful data, is your brain soaking up… Gone. Burned to ashes.”
She straightened up, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of her cluttered desk. “There’s no safe way to wake you up unless it’s by your own choice. And with things going the way they are on Earth...” Her gaze flicked to the map, almost as if Earth was right there in the room with them, “it’s just a matter of time before everyone here disconnects, one by one, like a crumbling house of cards. That’s why Paris has his eyes on you. You’re precious, Jude. Very precious.”
Her lips twisted into a crooked smile, “Because humanity needs more pods. And you? You’re our tech dealer.”
"Teresa!" Lazaro almost yelled.
"What?" she shot back. "I’m teaching the boy!"
"Go slow!" Lazaro insisted, his irritation barely masked. "We talked about this."
She rolled her eyes dramatically, throwing her hands up. "The hell with you. If you were a web novel author, it’d be cliffhanger after cliffhanger. I’d hate every second of it and leave you nasty little comments, so I'm sure you couldn't sleep at night!"
Then, without missing a beat, she added, "Oh, did you know Paris loves light novels?"
The randomness of it caught Jude off guard, his expression twisting in confusion. "Uh, what,… really?"
"Really!" Teresa nodded, completely serious, as if this were the most important thing she’d said all day.
“What’s he reading now?” Lazaro casually asked if he wasn't almost screaming a second ago.
Teresa didn’t even pause, answering with a straight face, “That time I woke up to my ex-mafia boss only to find out he's an alien.”
Lazaro’s head tilted slightly, a half-smile forming. “Didn’t he already read that one?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, well, as I mentioned before, I cut all communication. The internet’s one of the things I shut off.”
Lucy, who had been quietly observing, chimed in without looking up. “AI can still give updates from the outside,” she corrected.
Teresa waved her off, her smile returning, though not as carefree as before. “They’re part of the simulation, but AI can’t write a novel or import one unless it’s hooked up to hardware. In here, they’re mostly like… well, a glorified podcast.”
She trailed off for a moment, her gaze drifting as if lost in thought, before blinking and shaking her head. “Wait, what was I talking about again?”
Jude raised an eyebrow, his voice dry. “Landmark scanner.”
Teresa snapped her fingers, the realisation hitting her. "Oh yeah, B7, right? That area’s unlocked for all of you," she said, her voice picking up pace. "Lazaro’s got free passage through the whole phantom zone. No worries there."
Her fingers started tapping against her leg, a nervous energy bubbling under the surface. "It’s just… well, I cut the communication, but I didn’t exactly... pick up any of the hardware that was left behind. If you catch my drift."
Jude frowned, glancing over at Lazaro for clarity. “What does she mean by that?”
Lazaro sighed, eyes narrowing a bit as he spoke. “It means she fucked up—the old stuff—it’s still out there, and whatever's left could be causing problems for us to access the landmark scanner.”
Lazaro didn’t hesitate and added. “She’s playing dumb.”
Teresa sat on her chair, eyes wide with mock offence. “What? How dare you say that!” she exclaimed, her hand resting dramatically on her chest.
Ignoring her theatrics, Lazaro asked bluntly. “Where’s the landmark scanner for B7, Tessa?”
Teresa’s playful expression faded slightly, her arms opening wide as if she were revealing some grand secret. “Turn on the grid for B7, and it’ll light up like a diamond.”
Jude frowned, his confusion deepening as he turned toward Lazaro. “What does she mean by turning on the grid?”
Lazaro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “She means B7’s got some hibernated systems running. We’ll probably need to shut those down before we can even see the scanner.”
Lazaro let out a long breath, his frustration barely contained. "It means also Saint Teresa lost control of her little 'pets,' and now she can’t manage them remotely. So, guess what? We’ve got to clean up the mess for her."
Jude raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask, Lazaro added, “And before you ask why she doesn’t send the hundred guys around here doing nothing—because,” he said, turning sharply to Teresa, “they can’t.”
“They don’t need to go to B7,” Teresa said, her voice flat and unbothered, like she was stating a simple fact. “They’re going to disconnect sooner or later. One way or another, they’ll end up stepping into B7 and leaving poor me behind.”
A sly smile tugged at the corner of Teresa’s lips, her eyes gleaming with some private joke. “So I’m thinking, when the time comes, a Saint will have done the work of hundreds.” The words hung in the air, her grin unapologetic.
Lazaro shook his head. “You’re completely nuts. You fucking lost it.”
Teresa shrugged, unbothered, a wistful smile crossing her face. “And who wouldn’t be living in a world that dances between dream and fantasy? And all we see is the nightmare we seeded. We do not deserve the entry to the gardens.”
Jude felt a small tug on his hand. Lucy, her expression tense, leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t trust her,” she murmured, her fingers tightening around his, her gaze never leaving Teresa.
Jude’s gaze shifted uneasily, catching the flicker of suspicion in Lucy’s eyes. He didn’t need her whispered warning to feel it himself—there was something off about Teresa, something lurking beneath her easy smile and casual demeanour.
His mind drifted to the soldiers outside, stationed without a clear purpose, yet their presence felt intentional. They weren’t just idling; it was as if they were tethered to her, guarding her without question. It all pointed to one thing: she was a Watcher, like him. But what could her ability be?
image [https://i.imgur.com/lnLsNFd.png]