The SDO trucks met up with Sarah Guernsey about ten miles outside of town. The door to the hold slid open and put the whole debacle in plain view of the twenty-odd detainees who were too busy gulping fresh air to care about Sarah's plight.

Even with two armed, military trained police officers on either side of her, Sarah refused to dismount. She spoke through her mask, confident at first, then argumentative, and finally outright hostile. She held a paper out insistently, but the SDOs shook their heads. She continued waving it at them until one officer hefted his baton—more of a promise than a threat—and stood back to make room for her on the road. She slowly pocketed the paper, slid from the saddle with practiced ease, and yanked the mask from her face.

"Well, go on then," she said. "Do what you're going to do. Never mind that I'm a tax-paying citizen and probably pay your—"

A second officer lifted a thin, matte black barrel to Sarah's face. She gasped and closed her eyes. Within seconds, the thermometer beeped.

Sarah blinked.

"Fever," he said.

Easing into comprehension, Sarah slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no! It's not a fever! Take it again."

The SDO grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the truck.

"Wait. Wait! Take it again! I'm just hot! Look," she said, unbuttoning her shirt with her free hand. "I'm riding out in the sun. I'm just overheated. Look!"

Sarah yanked one side of her shirt down and flashed a bare shoulder covered only in smooth human flesh. It was enough to make the officer hesitate.

"Just toss her in so we can go," his partner insisted, but he held the thermometer to her forehead a second time. The hold's detainees—now a captive audience—held their collective breath. Seconds later, Sarah burst into tears as the SDOs grabbed her by each arm and tossed her in face first.

She scrambled to her feet and held the door, crying, "My horse! You can't just leave him here!"

"Sure we can."

"Unharness him at least," she begged. "And let me—"

An SDO stepped in front of her with his pistol drawn. "I'm done here."

"Hang on, hang on," said the other officer.

He leaned in and whispered. They both nodded.

"Alright, sweetheart. Tell you what, you can stay in that truck. Or," he said, "you can get up on that horse of yours and ride back the way you came." He smiled and made a little scoot along motion with the hand that wasn't holding a gun.

Breathing hard, she looked back and forth between the officers, looking for the trap. The SDOs didn't disappoint.

"Your horse fast?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Good, good. Alright then, it's like this. You ride like the wind, honey. Got it? We'll give you to the count of ten." He shrugged. "Could be fun. Let's see what happens."

"I don't understand," she said.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

He wiggled his pistol in response.

"Monsters," she said in disbelief, "the both of you."

"If you say so. Let's get on with it."

Sarah debated for a few seconds. Then she let go of the truck door and took a step backward before falling to her knees. "Please will you just unharness him so he can—"

"Ah, you're no fucking fun," the SDO said, slamming the truck door mid-sentence.

Like so many of them, Sarah cried for the first few minutes. Once the heat sunk into her bones, though, she sat cross-legged, dried her eyes, and focused on her breathing. Eventually, her vision adjusted to the dim lighting, and she looked around the poorly ventilated hold, noticing several familiar faces. One in particular.

"You," Sarah said.

"Hey Sarah. You were right," Tansy replied. "Co-op was closed."

By the time they reached the outskirts of Allentown, the sun rested on the green horizon. Through the hold's ventilation grate, the sky glowed pink and purple, dotted with rippling, luminescent clouds backlit by white and gold crepuscular rays. It was a hopeful sky, full of promise and joy, the kind of sky that once drew vulnerable cave dwellers out onto their rock ledges for a pure, indelible moment of awe and gratitude.

Gratitude.

Tansy would be grateful for some water and fresh air. The thin, lukewarm current drifting from the hold's meager AC vent was no match for the sun, nor for the dozens of breathing bodies the SDOs had amassed on their 20-mile trip.

They sat idling for what felt like an hour. Finally, the door creaked open, revealing the imposing gray facade of the SDO building. It stood shrouded in an eerie darkness that clutched at it from every direction, stirring up long-buried memories in Tansy's mind, memories drowned in a sea of tears and entombed beneath layers of ancient emotional wreckage.

She was nine years old again, stumbling behind the truck that held her grandmother, mother, father, and 5-year-old brother. She had followed it for miles, her bare feet plastered with the bloody muck of a hundred bodies flattened beneath the tracks of the 80-ton transporter. Stop, she cried, until at last it did. The looming gray walls of the so-called hospital yawned, and into its ravenous maw went the last of her family.

She stood in the hold and leaned over, propping her hands on her legs.

"Ma, I'm gonna be sick," she said under her breath. Ma didn't answer. Ma was in a dark drawer. Ma was in the gray walls. Ma was in the soil, in the forest, feeding nematodes and trees.

Tansy retched.

"Not in the truck!" Sarah yelled. "Someone get her to the door."

Before she knew it, Tansy was on the ground, rough hands shoving her forward.

"No," she whispered. Inside her body, incessant heat vied with violent chills, and she threw her head forward, heaving great dry heaves that threatened to tear her head from her neck.

"Take her to Heller," an officer commanded.

She tried to scream, but couldn't catch her breath. Wave after wave of nausea enveloped her, her mind swirling with terror and confusion.

"No," she pleaded, a guttural, desperate scream stifled by the growing commotion. She couldn't let them take her inside. If she went inside, she'd never come out alive. SDOs grabbed her arms and legs, dragging her toward the building. She heaved and convulsed, unable to quell the tumultuous storm raging within her.

Not again, she thought, not this time. She wasn't a helpless child anymore.

"Stop!" she shrieked. She took a deep, ragged breath before screaming again. "Stop!"

With a sudden, jerking motion, she fell to her knees. The officers holding her stumbled forward. They tugged, but her body didn't budge.

Her hands planted in the cool grass, Tansy's senses extended into her environment. Awareness of other living things pulsed through her as vibrations from deep within the earth resonated in her bones, anchoring her in place. Her body responded instantly as healing clarity flooded her veins like warm honey. She felt the SDO's surround her, pull at her, pressure her body into movement, but she remained rooted in place, shockingly alive.

* New Ability: [Resilient Roots] The Green Witch absorbs the resilience of neighboring flora, channeling their regenerative properties to nearby allies. While rooted, the Green Witch cannot move, making her vulnerable to both melee and ranged attacks. This ability lasts 15 seconds, after which the Green Witch will lose consciousness for ten minutes. This ability has a 12-hour cooldown.

"Wha—what?" she panted. A circle of darkness edged into her peripherals. The ringing in her ears overtook the deepening chorus of cries surrounding her. The earth began spinning, slowly at first, then accelerating into a dizzying whirlwind of chaos and disorientation.

At least I didn't puke, Tansy thought.

Then she passed out.