To their backs, another massive light burst into existence.

Another bonfire?! Zan cursed. Was it a trap or just back luck?

“To the sides!” Jiehong yelled.

Instantly, Zan obeyed. He ran with Whiskey to the ditch and threw himself in, hoping it was dark enough to evade the enemy.

On his back, Zan watched the many golems march on the road. What happened? How had the automotrons gotten to their backsides? More importantly, why would the golems have not attacked said backsides even though they had the advantage? Did they not see them? Was there another road to their back they didn’t know about which allowed the golems, in complete ignorance, to build and light the bonfire without their knowledge? So many questions, yet not a single answer.

Having his eyes adjust to the new half-dark, half-light intensity before them, and seeing no golems come into the ditch after them, Zan pressed his earpiece and said to Jiehong over the communication device to “Keep moving forward if you can.”

Since Whiskey did not have a communication device, he wildly waved his hand, making what he thought was ‘forward’ motions, urging her on. She understood what he meant eventually, though he had to make himself look like a clown for a while.

On all four and inching forward through the cold dirt and sometimes mud, they escaped from the golem troupe and gained enough distance to go from merely elbowing their way through the earth to slouching their way through the earth.

Zan’s heart pounded.

The automotrons lighting up those bonfires had taken him totally off-guard.

Then Zan thought: ‘wait, maybe this is a good thing? It must mean we are getting close to something!’

But how close, that was the question.

Advancing along the ditch, Zan and his company made good time despite the soldiers. Zipping along the ditches, easily evading the mobile woodwork, Zan and company saw more bonfires light. “Let’s follow the fire,” Whiskey said.

Zan had no objection, so he followed close, Jiehong in rear-gear as well. With their eyes now well adjusted to the semi-illuminated dark of the shadows and flames, the three Ranger-Knights came upon the perimeter of the border after several hours of travel.

Reaching the edge of a large encampment, whose borders were mostly of a natural formation, and of iron and steel when nature had no recourse for defense, Zan signaled for the group to pause. Whiskey did not like the stop and said, “Why?! We’re on the camp. Almost home free!”

Shooting back, Zan said, “What do you mean ‘home free,’ lady? We’ve only just arrived and I am freaking tired!”

“So you want to just haunch on your laurels and rest like pigs?!” she said, a venom on her tongue he hadn’t seen before.

“Take your tone down! The enemy is right over there!” Zan said, making a rude ‘shushing’ sound with his finger to his lips.

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To her credit, Whiskey cooled her temper down.

Zan continued, “And yeah, I do want to rest! We spent hours grinding on that trail in the middle of the damn night. Give us some credit! How useful do you think we’ll be if we’re keeled over in sweat as the enemy throws everything they had at us?! Yeah! Not very useful, huh?!”

Whiskey chilled to ice right away. Zan got his way and did not feel bad about it. She did not give them enough credit, even though he and Jiehong were giving her everything, despite their lack of knowledge about her.

“I think we could go…” Jiehong whispered.

Zan saw Jiehong do nothing but stare at Whiskey the whole time. He saw the sweat of his brow glint in the moonlight. He wasn’t being serious. He probably only wanted to impress Whiskey with his manliness or some crap like that.

“You need rest, too. Jiehong. Both of you need to get real. Are neither of you are tired? Seriously? After walking for hours under duress?! Forget me with that,” Zan replied in anger, not impressed at the petty politics being played before his eyes.

Both of his companions needed rest. Whiskey needed rest. And he did too, whether she, and Jiehong, knew it themselves.

Fifteen minutes was all Zan took for his break. Which was just enough time for a water break and a snack break. Housed down with the absolute minimum, and his attitude worsened by the attitudes of his battle buddies, Zan took every second for granted.

“Ready?” he asked the group. They were tired. But they all shook their heads.

They were ready.

“Okay, let’s advance and rescue these people before they’re gone forever !”

Slipping into the camp, Zan thought it was easy enough. However easy though it might have been, he did not want to waste their surprise advantage.

“Guys,” Zan whispered. “Be careful. Move only when you know you are not in sight of an enemy. We don’t want to waste our edge; besides, how do you think it will be for us if we get caught and have an entire command post at our backs?”

This time it was Jiehong who responded negatively. “We know, Zan. You don’t have to be so patronizing.”

“Fine. Sorry! I just wanted us to be on the same page. Since we clearly weren’t even with our break times…”

Zan did not give his companions time to argue. They wanted such a fast-paced advance? Fine. He would give it to them.

Signaling they should follow, Zan dashed into the open field and made a beeline for the densely packed interior of the camp.

Moving, Zan had spotted metallic boxes piled high and many wooden crates besides. It looked to be hand-held weapons and bits of molded iron, presumably for their war engines. Or perhaps for the higher ranked automotrons who, as Zan had seen, required precious ores to reinforce their flimsy wooden bodies.

Moving through gaps and entryways between the freight, Zan thought they made good time, considering the size of the camp and the many soldiers milling around. Inside the camp, Zan saw several bonfires illuminate. Zan assumed it was the light from these bonfires which kept the golems active; even so, Zan noticed the golems were slow and only barely lumbering around. Still a whole lot of them, though. Zan reminded himself to keep hidden.

From their hiding place, Zan saw a huge makeshift road. The invaders were sending row after line of troops, reinforced wagons drawn by horses, and other vehicles Zan did not understand. All of which had flanks of (unbearably) slow-moving soldiers. Seeing, finally, an opening between the ending of one massive group and the start of the next, Zan made the decision to run at a breakneck speed. He knew it was dark enough where the shadows would cover their tracks.

Hearing his team’s footsteps behind, Zan took faith in a sole solace: his team followed him, despite all their whining earlier.

Thinking it would be safe to cross again on the way out, Zan saw his hopes dashed as behind them, powerful searchlights powered by firepits scanned the road behind them.

Zan watched as wide-circles scanned all over. If we were to be spotted by one of those, we would be done for…

“Know another way out?” Zan asked Whiskey.

It was hard to tell her facial features, but Zan knew right away, without her replying, she did not know. It was going to be them and, when freed, a bunch of people. People who would be scared, tired, confused. Those people would then look to them to lead them to freedom.

What was Zan to say? Only lies. Or the truth, which was more terrifying than lies.

Zan shook his head. They were going to die here. He knew it.

This camp would be their graveyard.