I whirled toward the screaming man as a crossbow bolt passed my head, but he’d already thrown the weapon down and was running back toward the dungeon’s fog gate. The big guy—Eddie—slammed his arm into the air in front of him, and a triangle-shaped piece of steel materialized out of nowhere. Tori started casting a spell, and so did one of the other bikers. The third biker went for his axe.

Calvin stepped out from where he’d hidden. “Calm your asses down!” he snapped, his voice the drill sergeant, not the medic. “Put the weapons away!”

I spun back toward Eddie as the crossbowman disappeared into the dungeon. They must not have full cleared it because he hit the fog wall and vanished. For a second, I saw red. I was ready to lunge at Eddie and kick the fight off for real—and it was going to be a fight.

The only thing that stopped me was Calvin. Tori could handle herself one one-on-one; she’d be able to wrap up the other mage. But I couldn’t handle Eddie and manage the other biker, who’d lifted his axe, ready to charge any second. Calvin was out of juice. I knew it, and so did Tori—but the bikers didn’t.

“Eddie, what the hell?” I asked, letting my gauntlet spark. It was at twelve Charge; I’d get two attacks with it. The Trip-Hammer hung in my other hand.

“Let’s all slow down and talk about this,” Calvin said. Only his eyes betrayed the otherwise calm expression on his face.

Eddie laughed. It sounded bitter, resigned, and determined at the same time. “Them’s the rules. We’re supposed to bring back anyone we can and make sure anyone who won’t go isn’t a threat. If you won’t help us, you’re a threat. It’s what we have to do to survive.”

“You were going to kill us!?” Tori screamed. Her voice sounded equal parts fury and fear.

“That doesn’t matter. You don’t see any other way this ends?” I asked, readying the Voltsmith’s Grasp.

“No, I don’t.” He raised an eyebrow appraisingly. “You’re a lot like me. I can see it in your eyes. You push through problems and endure until you win.”

I had to make my move before the crossbowman got back. We were already at a disadvantage. There had to be something I could do to even things out—or to de-escalate.

Calvin opened his mouth, staring at Eddie with narrowed eyes. “Betcha you can’t push through this one.” He waved a hand at me.

There it was. The only obvious way forward was through, but Calvin had given me another solution. “Think you can handle me?”

“I can handle anything,” he growled. “You two, back off.”

I hefted the Trip-Hammer over my shoulder, wielding it one-handed for now, and grabbed a battery bomb. It hummed and started glowing orange as I pushed Charge into it.

Stored Charge 7/15

Bomb: Active

Timer: Five Seconds

Eddie stared at me. I stared back. Then, with a flick of my wrist, I sent the bomb toward him like a bullet.

He ripped his shield up to cover his face and head. The bomb exploded; shrapnel rained down across the ramp to the pier as Calvin and Tori backpedaled and his friends jammed themselves against the fence.

But Eddie was fine. He hadn’t even taken a hit. As I shifted the Trip-Hammer into a two-handed grip, the familiar glow of magic—white this time—shimmered over him. I swung, firing the Trip-Hammer. It hit the shield like a mallet hitting a gong. The ringing was almost deafening. My ears both popped from the pressure wave as I tried to bring the hammer back around for another swing.

Eddie didn’t give me a chance.

He ducked in and punched three times with the razor-sharp end of his shield. Bam, bam, bam. Three light cuts to the arm. I swung again, but he blocked it. The hammer went flying to the right. The gong sound rippled across the pier as he backed up.

I caught the backswing and clobbered him across the shoulder with the motor, triggering the twin hammers as I did. But he was fast. He got the shield in between his face and my hammers. Both tips gouged into the metal, and I twisted the hammer, trying to rip the shield from his grip like I had so many sticks back in Cozad.

“Look out!” Tori yelled. The shield popped free, slicing toward my face as I jerked my whole body back. It missed me by inches; he’d been aiming for the eyes.

He backed up, casting a second spell as I sucked in a breath and readied myself. So far, I hadn’t used the gauntlet; it had enough juice for one Charge surge, and I wanted to keep it in reserve if I could. I readied the Trip-Hammer and swung it overhead, like I was trying to split wood.

Eddie didn’t bother dodging. The hammer’s impact on the spell was strong enough that I felt it all the way into my shoulders. Muscles tore from the strain, and I clenched my teeth. Only my Body score kept the pain from being overwhelming. But his magical shield held. He punched out again, two more slices to my forearm. One caught the gauntlet’s plating, but the other cut across the back of my hand.

I backed off. Attacking wasn’t working—not right now.

“I told you I could weather it, shit-for-brains, but I don’t think you can outlast me.” Eddie’s breaths came fast but controlled. He was working hard to maintain his spell, and I didn’t have that problem, but the only real hit I’d gotten was a tap to his shoulder with the engine. He was right. This wasn’t sustainable.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The fourth biker pushed his way through the fog gate. He eyed the spectators, then us. “You stay out of this,” Eddie growled. “Get your bow, but don’t do shit. I’m almost done here.”

My lungs burned as he advanced behind his bladed shield. I couldn’t outlast him. I couldn’t overwhelm him—his defenses were too solid. He was faster than me, too. But so far, his plan had been pretty consistent. In four days, he probably hadn’t learned too many different techniques. We were all new at this.

I could exploit that.

I hefted the Trip-Hammer again, crashing it down onto his barrier. He held the shield up, and it bounced off the right side. I was ready for the punching counter, and I backpedaled and spun to the left. He grinned. “You’re slowing down.”

The fresh cut across my back—right through the armor—was proof. I nodded. “You’re right. I can’t keep going. Call this a draw?”

“No,” he said. “You’re not walking away from this. I’ll let your friends decide whether to die or come with us, though.”

“That’s kind of what I thought.” I lifted the Trip-Hammer and fired its hammers as I swung—right into the right side of his shield. But this time, as the hammer crashed down, I pushed the whole weapon forward and let go.

Both hammers sliced through the air, hooked onto the shield, and yanked it up into the steel pipe haft. The weapon hit the ground at a terrible angle and crunched. Eddie’s whole body lifted, and I slammed my gauntlet into his chest.

Stored Charge 2/15

A full load of Charge ripped into Eddie’s chest. The shock threw him—and my hammer—back. He slammed into the ramp. I grabbed the Trip-Hammer and swung it into his chest. Something crunched. His head bounced, and I heard his jaw clack from the impact. Then he didn’t move.

No one did.

I stepped over him, picked up my hammer, and pointed it at the three remaining bikers. “We’re done here. Check and see if he’s alive. Come on. We’re leaving.”

Then I turned and walked away as one of the bikers dropped to his knees next to their fallen leader.

----------------------------------------

We headed west, just like I’d told Eddie’s group we were planning.

Then, as soon as I couldn’t hear them following, we doubled back, heading south instead. Calvin took the lead. “Jesus Christ, that was tense. We’ll get those bandaged up, but keep moving. We need to put a few blocks between us and them, then take a breather.”

I focused on walking. Part of me said that I didn’t care if Eddie lived or died.

But most of me did care.

Eddie was a killer. He’d been enjoying the fight. The taunting, the laughing. All of that. He’d sounded like the kind of person who’d fought like that before—maybe with knives. I shivered; I’d gotten lucky, and I knew it.

But if he lived, I’d be okay with that. And if he died, I wouldn’t want to know.

A door hung open nearby, leading into the atrium of an art museum in the canyon-like downtown area. Calvin pointed to it, and we ducked inside. The door was—shockingly—open.

By the time my butt hit the bench, Calvin had a few cans of green beans out. “Eat up. We’re stopped for ten minutes, then we’ve got to keep moving.” His eyes strayed across my arms, and the half-dozen cuts there. He swallowed. Then he waved Tori over. “I’m gonna teach you how to field-dress a minor wound.”

And he did. He coached the girl through every step, making her re-do the bandages when they weren’t up to snuff and ignoring my winces and hisses as she cleaned the cuts out over and over.

“Who were those guys? Did they really take over the museum?” Tori asked.

I gritted my teeth as she pulled a bandage tight. “I don’t think he was lying. They’ve got something going on there.”

“I saw a flash from near the Planetarium just before that guy went for his bow.” Tori stopped working until Calvin touched her shoulder and pointed at my own. She nodded and got to work, but kept talking. “I bet they were sending orders to fight us.”

The last bandage tightened around my shoulder, and I pulled my armor on over it. Calvin handed Tori a bottle of water, and she rinsed her hands, then grabbed a handful of beans. I stared at her; she looked a lot thinner than Beth now after three days in the dungeon, but the resemblance was still there.

After a couple of minutes, Calvin waved his hand toward the cans. I handed mine over, and he gestured at the lid. “That too. Hurry up.”

When I handed him the lid, he ran a finger along the edge, shoved it back onto the can, and repeated the gesture. Then he tossed the whole thing into his backpack. I stared. “Did you…”

“Yeah, survival magic. The apocalypse won’t be all fighting all the time. Humanity will need people like me,” Calvin said. He nodded slowly, closing his eyes. “It’s been a long time since it needed people like me.

I watched him for a moment. He seemed almost smug about it, and I hoped he was right—but I had a bad feeling he wouldn’t be.

Then, with sheer force of will, he pulled himself out of his daydream. “What’s the plan? We still aiming for the museum?”

“Hell yes,” Tori hissed. “My step-mom’s still there, and if that guy’s one of the people in charge, I can’t let her stay.”

I nodded, wincing as one of the bandages caught the edge of a cut. What I really needed was a monster to kill. I had to be close to a level, and a point in Body would be more than enough to fix this. “I’m good with that, but Tori, we’re going to be in danger there. Even if Eddie’s…not a threat anymore, his people saw our faces. Our best bet is to get in, find Jessica, and get out. Got it?”

Calvin shook his head. “I don’t think so, Hal. You didn’t kill him, and I’ve seen gangers like this before. They’re going to put feelers out as soon as Eddie wakes up and gets back to base. They can’t let people like you go unpunished, but if there’s one thing they won’t expect, it’s you going toward them.”

“So you think…” I trailed off.

“We get Tori back to her parental unit. Then we dig in somewhere in this Museumtown. You wait for the dungeons to open. And we see what’s really going on.”

----------------------------------------

Consciousness hit Eddie like an eighteen-wheeler.

He jerked up, sitting straight up. His chest burned as he moved, and he gasped for breath, trying to remember what had hit him.

Right. That guy. The Voltsmith.

One of his boys started saying something, but he held up a hand. “I need to think.” His head throbbed.

It all came back to him as he groaned. The fight. The hammer blows on his shield. His punches and strikes, each leaving a bloody wound on the Voltsmith. He couldn’t remember the man’s name, or those of his companions, but his class was burned into his memory with lightning. In just one second—one slip-up—the Voltsmith had pulled him off-balance, ducked his shield, and ended the fight.

But Eddie had endured. He’d survived. He always survived.

“Water. Now.”

The water bottle slammed into his hand, and he emptied it in a long, endless pull. Then he belched and forced himself to his feet.

“What’s the plan, Eddie?” Tommy asked. He was the perfect second—always ready to fight, and more importantly, always ready to listen. When they’d made their push for dominance in Green Bay last year, Tommy had been there with him. He’d put up with a lot of shit, and he was loyal.

Eddie coughed. His breath tasted like electricity, smoke, and blood. “We’re going to finish our job, then we’re going back to the captain. I’m telling him we’re hunting this Voltsmith down, and I’m returning the fucking beating—and more.”

The others looked at him with raised eyebrows, but Tommy walked behind him as he turned toward Downtown Chicago. After a minute, he heard them fall in, too. He could feel the blood on his teeth, could taste the copper.

Eddie spat red spit into the street.

He had endured this. He’d endured worse.

And now that he’d endured the blows, he couldn’t wait to hit back.