1

Cammo sat on a low stool with his right ankle on his knee, impatiently tapping his left foot while keeping a vigilant watch on the stranger sleeping soundly in front of him. He wore his mask just in case the man tried anything, even though ropes tied him tight to the trunk of a thin tree. The moon-man was very naked and the rag Cammo used to cover his genitals had not helped much, and neither did the awkward erection that popped up from time to time. I don’t have time for this, he thought, looking up at the sweltering sun. Can’t he just wake up already? I’ve been waiting for hours… There was a lot to be done and to be explained, and not a lot of time to do it. There was also the problem concerning the man’s complete lack of limbs. Plum, the naive little girl, was absolutely adamant about keeping her savior alive, and as unrealistic as the request was, she forced his hand. All it took was her promise, a juvenile one that claimed that she’d, Hate him forever! It was something that he would’ve ignored earlier, but… but there was something in her eyes that said she meant it. Whatever Plum had seen it changed her. No matter his prodding, she never revealed what. Cammo sighed and rubbed his eyes, wondering how much longer the stranger would keep him from moving on. With any luck he dies in his sleep, he thought. It didn’t seem like he’d be that lucky. The moon-man slept like a stone—and a couple of times during his watch Cammo could swear that he stopped breathing, only for his chest to rise seconds after the thought like a prank, much to his chagrin—but wasn’t as dead. Cammo watched his peaceful face and it stirred, growing worried. He straightened out.

The stranger's eyes began to flutter, making Cammo move his foot off his knee and plant it in the grass, leaning forward to meet him in the eyes. “Finally,” he said, reaching over and slapping his white cheeks. “Come on, wake up, fool. You’ve been sleeping too long. Yeah, that’s it. You’re not dead yet, so wake up.”

2

Vincenzo looked up just as lightheaded as the night before, becoming very aware of the ropes, the sun, and the weird alien guy slapping his face. He was like the girl from the night before—which he was almost sure was some weird dream, at least until this guy started slapping him—but taller and a man. The alien’s hair was pink and long, reaching his shoulders, and he had it slicked back behind his curved and pointed ears. He was five feet and six inches, but he was all skin and bone. Proportionally, he reminded Vincenzo more of that Chinese basketball player than anything else. And unlike the girl from before, instead of a cute button nose, his was a triangle—half a pyramid to be exact. The sides of it were straight as could be with no difference between the bridge and nostrils, stopping flat so two holes at the bottom could poke out from beneath. It looked both fake and real and weird as hell. “Where am I?” Vincenzo asked, his throat hoarse. He turned his head and saw a HUGE white tree with purple leaves towering high above them, along with crops surrounding it in a big circle. They weren’t any kind of fruit he recognized. “I said, where am I? And why am I tied up…?”

“Stop talking,” The alien said, slapping him harder.

“Hey!” Vincenzo yelled weakly. “Who the hell are you?!”

“Just be quiet a second,” he said, ignoring him and standing up. “Don’t move…”

“I don’t have arms or legs,” he told him. The alien walked into the white tree through a doorway, leaving him. “I can’t move… at… all…”

He came out a moment later with a basket full of the same fruits growing all around them. Many of the little stalks were empty, curiously enough. “You feel lightheaded, right? Tired? It’s just a symptom of low mana. Eat these and you’ll be right.”

“Still don’t have arms…”

“I have eyes, better ones than you,” he muttered, sitting back and the stool and placing the wicker basket on his side. “I’ll feed you.” He grabbed one. It was a small—in comparison to Vincenzo—perfectly round and smooth orange fruit that reminded him of, well, an orange. The only difference seemed to be that it had soft skin rather than a waxy rind. “Here.”

“Are your hands clean?” Vincenzo asked.

The alien sighed and shoved the fruit in. He chewed eagerly and stopped, almost spitting it out as the taste spread throughout his mouth. The alien seemed to remember something. “Oh yeah… Different taste buds. Might be sour for you.”

Vincenzo struggled to down the mushy thing with a puckered mouth and twitching eye, but was ultimately happy to have something in his stomach. “It’s like a goddamned lemon… but worse… Damn…” He blew a raspberry to get the rest of the taste out. “Merda… Just terrible.”

The alien had him eat another one. “You overexerted yourself. The other moon-man did the same. My daughter—”

Vincenzo spit it out. “Is she okay?!” he asked, concerned. “She was hurt bad and—”

“She’s fine,” said the alien. “A bit of good medicine, some bandages, some ointment, and she’ll be okay… She’s lying down now. No broken bones. She’ll be up and walking in an hour.”

“An hour?! How?!” She looked worse than just an hour’s rest.

“I already told you,” he said, annoyed. “Medicine, bandages, and ointment. Now, back to what I was talking about… Yes, the ‘gift’. My daughter couldn’t see yours. Said she ran too quick before you guys started to battle. And, the way I see it, you would’ve lost instantly if it had been a straight fight.”

Vincenzo nodded and looked at the ground. He did lose instantly, but he didn’t die when he should’ve.

“So, what’s your ‘gift’. The Blood Moon bestowed two upon you, but I’ll go after that in a minute… The first one is guaranteed to be a physical mutation. The other moon-man had claws, which you no doubt have seen first-hand. So, what’s yours? What can you do? How did you live as long as you did?”

“My ‘gift’?” Vincenzo asked, almost forgetting what he thought was unforgettable. “Oh yeah! My ‘gift’! Yeah, I can, uh, grow back limbs and stuff like that. Pretty fast too… It’s like the axolotl, except my arms come back fully formed. Or like Deadpool, but they aren’t baby arms or legs or any of that shit…”

“So, your arms are going to grow back?” he asked, rubbing his chin.

“I hope so… It definitely seems tougher to do when it’s burned,” Vincenzo said. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m still hungry.”

He nodded and fed him another. “My name is Cammo Noowurl. My daughter’s name is Plum Noowurl.”

The fruit was small enough to swallow whole, so he did. “ ‘Plum’? You kidding?”

“You want a smack?” Cammo asked, bending his arm back. When Vincenzo flinched, he dropped it. “It’s a good name. A name her mother gave her. Now don’t interrupt me again.”

“Okay, okay, okay… But I just have to ask, what happened to that guy? Boon?”

“I killed him.”

“What?” Vincenzo asked, shocked. “H-how though? You’re so…”

“I killed him,” Cammo repeated, coldly. “Easily. Now pay attention. I am going to explain some important things, and these are things you no doubt want to know. You’re probably more confused than me and I’m very confused, but I’m also sure you have a worldview that would completely dismiss all I have to say if given the chance, so just listen. Listen and trust me. I’m not a liar. Understand?”

Vincenzo nodded. He was willing to believe anything after fighting an alien to the death to save another alien. He was in that kind of frame of mind.

“I am a wizard. My daughter is a wizard. And we are both emps,” Cammo explained. “Don’t think for a moment that I couldn’t rip out your spine and beat you with it if a need arose. And… we have to leave…”

“Leave?” The place looked like a paradise. The sun was a little low for his liking, but there was plenty of food, it was pretty enough, and this “Cammo” guy seemed tough. Vincenzo could tell just by the look in his eyes that “easily” wasn’t an exaggeration, even if he was just bones.

“Yes…” Cammo said. “We’re refugees. Well… more akin to runaway convicts depending on how you view the situation… And we decided this place is where we’d run. It’s out of the way, the ground is completely infertile to any outside crops (and anything planted by sentient hands), there are no natives, no predators, and my wife’s spell circumvented the second reason. This lush garden, this home behind me: her doing. Her magic. But… like most spells… now that she’s gone…” He paused for a moment. “Soon, probably in a couple hours, this’ll all be dust in the wind. And we need to leave. We can’t plant crops and the game is too sparse to survive off of.”

A dark green light enveloped him, calm as the surface of a lake with only the slightest of rippling, and he stood up. It was the strangest thing to Vincenzo because, no matter what angle he looked at him from, the light always seemed to come from just behind him, staining his silhouette a that deep green. The emp walked behind him and untied the rope, letting the naked, limbless man free.

“Do it,” Cammo ordered, standing just a foot away from him. “I’ve fed you ten of those things, and yes, they might need to digest a little… But I need to see if you were telling the truth. Grow them back.”

Vincenzo nodded, never breaking his gaze off the wizard. “Just… let me concentrate…”

Imagining the same process that took place over twenty times that night, the one that saved his life over twenty times… he did it. His left arm came out of the burn all at once, hurting a lot more than before, which used to be a painless process. He did it with his right leg, feeling the pain again. And after growing back the other limbs he felt even more weak and fell over, unable to get up.

“Fire…” he panted, moving his head up to Cammo slowly. “Burns… not good…”

“Hmm,” Cammo grunted. “If you didn’t believe me before then just watch. Think of this next time you get any bad ideas.”

Cracked stone replaced the lavender tone of his arm as he shot it right through the edge of the tree, sending splinters into the grass on the opposite side! He took his mask off and put it in his pocket. Vincenzo got the message loud and clear.

“We need to leave,” Cammo said. “Me and her… If you hadn’t saved her life, I would’ve ripped your head off without a second thought… But that’s not what happened. So, I’m going to present you a deal. You can accompany us out and I’ll tell you about the world, its rules, how you’re here, and whatever you want, really; or you can go your own way. I won’t judge, and I don’t care what you choose. But make it in an hour.”

He tipped the basket over towards Vincenzo’s head, spilling the fruits onto the grass so the human could eat them without pushing his body up.

“Welcome to Overworld,” Cammo said, before turning back to the ivory tree.

He left him laying naked under the hot sun with sour fruits and more questions than answers.

3

“Plum?” Cammo called out, rising up the stairs. “Are you awake?”

As his head came above the second floor, he could see his daughter sitting in the center of the room, sewing together old cloth sheets and clothes, intently working at the task. Her bandages were clean and the ointment he administered seemed to have dried; she was healed, whether she knew it or not. She used the light shining on her lap from the window to guide her little hands as they stitched the different rags together.

“What are you doing?” he asked, walking onto the round floor. The insides were empty of any item he thought useful for the journey, all kept in the three bags he packed. Only excesses, items too big to carry, furniture… and old clothes and sheets stayed behind.

“They’re old,” Plum said, keeping her ruby eyes on the sewing needle, “but not dirty. A little stained, but not dirty… And he’s naked. The sun would murder him.”

“Is this what you’ve been doing this whole time?”

“What else was I supposed to be doing?” she said, pausing to glare with her eyes while her head still down. The pink hair she shared with her father had been taken out of its braid when he treated her so now it got in her way, obstructing her vision with thick walls on almost every side which she constantly brushed away, and she moved it again before continuing. “I can’t lay in bed all day.”

“That’s how you heal. Rest,” he said, sitting down on his bed.

“And I healed, and I’m rested,” she said. He guessed she did know. “I’m fine. Here, look…” She was wearing the same style of white gown her mother had worn and peeled the loose fabric off her shoulder, then she peeled off the bandage under that. It was a nasty scar, pink and a little misshapen, but healed. And it had been the worst of her injuries… “And here too.” The gown was long, reaching down to her shins, but she hiked it up and showed the other scar running down her thigh, which healed much cleaner. “I’m fine. In fact…” she said, getting up, “I’m going to go change right now.”

She grabbed another pink dress, identical to all the others in her bag apart from the one destroyed the night before and went upstairs.

Cammo rubbed his face, exhausted from the interaction. It wasn’t new for her to snap at him and it wasn’t new for him to do the same, but that was a problem. Especially when Locine, the one who managed to make peace, was gone. And now you have him, the moon-man to worry about, his mind reminded him. He didn’t fully trust him; he’d be FOOL to. A fissure in our relationship could be bad. And she feels so fond of him already. Just a whisper here or there and he could set her against me. It was a cynical thought, but a valid one. He’d seen what an outside force could do to destroy a relationship, especially when there were already cracks. Just because he saved her doesn’t mean he has her best interests in mind. Another bad thought, but still valid. It wasn’t uncommon for men in his line of work to risk their lives saving women and children, and it wasn’t uncommon for those same men to order those same women and children into their tents… most of the time by force. I’ll deal with him the same way I dealt with them: a heavy swing right through the neck. His hand crept over the handle to his wide sword hanging off his backpack, but brought it back empty. Almost every thought told him to kill the black-eyed stranger, and most of them came from the fact he had black eyes. Eyes of evil, he thought, antsy from just thinking about it. But he couldn’t just do it, either. Plum’s emotions on the matter were very clear. And besides… he wouldn’t have her right now if the moon-man hadn’t put his life on the line. For that, he’d give him the chance at life—whatever he’d choose to do with it.

Plum came back down and went back to stitching, not even looking her father in the eye. She wore her pink dress comfortably.

“He has arms and legs,” Cammo told her.

She stopped. “What?”

“He’s like a tree. Cut off a limb and another’ll grow back,” said Cammo. “Just make sure to add arm and leg holes for him.”

She got up and ran to the window and groaned. It was too high for her. “Damn it…” she muttered, frustrated. She grabbed the stool near the bed and ran it over to the window, using it to peer outside where the man would’ve been. “He’s not there!”

Cammo got up and joined her by the window. The basket and fruits were gone too. “I said he could come if he wanted. If he wanted. He might not do it. Might decide he’s better off alone and leave…”

“Why would he do that?” she asked sadly. But some thought came to her mind and she looked at her father with suspicion. “What did you say to him?”

Threats, mostly, he answered internally. “Nothing,” he answered externally. “Some men want to be alone. Besides, he’s not gone yet.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, urgent.

“I gave him an hour to decide. He might come back, he might not… But the decision is his…” Cammo said, turning from the window and heading back to bed. He took off his boots as Plum stepped off the stool and laid down. “I’m going to take a nap.”

“How can you nap?!” Plum asked, coming close to nag. “I thought you said we were busy.”

“Yes, but what we need to do will be done later,” he growled. “We’ve been up too long.” He extended his hand for her to nap with him. “Sleep, even for a moment, would be good for us.”

“Can’t,” she said, turning away. “I need to finish his clothes… I have to cut holes in the arms and legs now. And even then, they aren’t done.”

“He might not even come back,” Cammo said.

She paused, as if what he pointed out had hurt her in some way. It was not what he intended. “Just go to sleep,” she mumbled, sitting down, her back towards him.

He looked at her a moment before turning over and facing the wall, and after listening to small hands grip and rip fabric for a minute, he shut his eyes.

4

“I’m sweating my ass off,” Vincenzo stated to no one, wiping his brow.

The forest only replied with the murmur of insects and the rustling of leaves, indifferent to him. He wasn’t comfortable among nature; he was a city-boy through and through, and his one memory of the woods was not a positive one. The sun didn’t agree with his complexion and his shaven head didn’t help, the little twigs and rocks that littered the forest floor constantly stabbed at his feet as he went, and the heat was almost unbearable. But it wasn’t all bad. The place was alien enough that he was entertained just by studying the different little creatures and plants all around, pausing every so often to get a closer look at the things that really piqued his interest: weird flowers, green rat things with furry tails that scurried away whenever he came close, and colorful bugs that shined every color of the rainbow.

Overworld, he thought. Emphasis on “world”. It was freaky thinking that he was on another planet, but not surprising. Well, it was at first, but after getting his ass kicked by an alien and being saved by another alien because he saved that alien’s daughter, it was an easier pill to swallow.

Vincenzo fished around the small basket he was holding under his arm and popped another fruit in his mouth, swallowing it whole to avoid the sour acids just beneath its orange skin. It’s mushy enough for that, he thought. It’ll be digested fine… maybe… The thought of shitting hail naked in the woods wasn’t a pleasant one, but he’d rather deal with that than the taste. The feeling of weakness had left him by the twentieth fruit, and he felt fine. He could feel a whole lot better with clothes on. Being as naked as he was, even alone, was unnerving. He felt vulnerable, open to everyone in a way he didn’t like. He placed the basket over his groin as he walked and found what he was looking for: a place to sit down with himself. It was kind of low and covered in shade, a stump sat in the middle next to an overturned log, some small insects lit up the darkest places in their fancy colors, and a little stream ran just behind it. The sound of trickling water was calming. And above all, the little clearing felt private. He set the basket on the grass and sat on the stump, feeling the breeze run over his sweaty body, cooling him, and let out a long sigh.

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“What do I do?” he asked himself, resting his chin on his knuckles as he bent forwards. It wasn’t just geared to that weird dude's offer—it was geared to everything. His life, his future, and what he’d do with both. And they stemmed from the sole reason that… that…

Come on, his mind muttered, goading him into a confession. You know why. It’s the same reason you ignored the plane tickets, the same reason you didn’t take the Father’s advice…

It was true. The only reason he lived his life as he did before—whether he admitted it or not—was because he was hoping he’d die. What better way to die young than living as a mafioso? Especially when that same family was in the middle of war with another; that put his face in the line of fire more times than he cared to remember. So why did he survive? Because he was good at it. It’s why, when safety was just a flight away, he used the excuse to go out doing something of worth—Marco’s approval be damned.

But you aren’t Italy anymore. And you didn’t die. In fact, I’m not even sure if you can at this point…

That was the problem. He was alive. He should’ve died, but he didn’t. Ironically enough, the suicidal gangster ended up immortal. So, the question came up again: What do I do?

His face darkened because he didn’t have a clue. Do you really have to think about it that hard? his mind asked. You already have a choice. The guy gave you one. And don’t you wanna know how you got here? He said he’d tell you, didn’t he?

He did want to know… But something else pushed him the extra step; the emotion he felt when he came between that asshole and the little girl. He never felt anything like that until that exact moment, but it felt right. He didn’t know what to call it. It wasn’t adrenaline, although it was definitely pumping. It wasn’t thrilling, even if his heart was beating faster than it ever had. Hell, the experience as a whole wasn’t positive, as it hurt like hell. But he’d do it again, no question. He’d do it a hundred times over.

Plus, he wanted to see that she was okay himself.

He got up, grabbed the basket and popped another one in his mouth, and started to walk back.

5

Vincenzo made it back to the absolutely massive tree that Cammo had disappeared inside, but didn’t enter. It was still someone's house, after all. Instead, he placed the basket in front of his privates and looked up at the circular window before clearing his throat.

“Anybody up there?!” he yelled, cupping his mouth with his right hand. “I decided to come!” He brought his hand back to the basket and waited for a reply. “Hello?!”

The top half of a child's head—the same one from last night, he recognized—greeted him from the window. “Hi!” she said, waving her hand down at him. “I’ll wake my papa. One second… Oh! Wait there!”

He waited, eyes on the freshly dug grave near the base of the tree, and a second later the top half of her head came back up.

“Here!” she said, throwing down a jumble of cloth with her little arms. “Some clothes! I’m gonna wake him now!”

“Okay!” he replied, making sure she left the window before changing. “Thanks!”

He grabbed the pile quickly and pulled whatever fit over his body, becoming clothed for the first time since crawling out of the mud. They were simple but they worked. Mismatched, mostly brown and stained cloth were stitched together in a sleeveless half-shirt and pants that only reached down to his shins. They were breathy too, letting the breeze in but the sun's rays out; they’d do for now.

He grabbed another fruit and ate before sitting down and pushing it aside, feeling the thing fill him up completely.

Cammo opened the door. “In,” he said, going back inside and leaving it open. “Come on.”

Vincenzo rose and followed him, ducking under the doorway as he entered due to his height, worrying that he’d have to hunch over the entire time. He was happy to find out that the ceilings were pretty tall.

“What was that grave outside?” Vincenzo asked.

“My wife,” Cammo said. “She met the moon-man before you did. I buried her last night.” He went up the stairs. Like everything else, they were carved out of the white wood.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Vincenzo said, following him up. “I only heard your daughter when I crawled out the mud.”

“Mhmm,” Cammo grunted. “We’re going to the top floor.”

“Alright.”

They reached the third, the one with the tallest ceiling and the most light. Almost fifty bowling-ball-sized holes dotted the top, letting the sun’s rays bounce off the white walls and onto the ivory table the little girl sat at. It was heavenly, or something close to it. The golden sun and the white wood looked perfect together, and so peaceful. It was a room for smiles and lazy afternoons.

“Sit down,” Cammo said, pulling out his own seat and taking it. “Before we set out, it’d be good to make sure we introduce ourselves. We’re going to be sharing a long hike.”

“Good idea,” Vincenzo said, pulling out his own seat. It was small, but he could manage it. The lack of armrests made it easier to balance.

There they were. Two “emps” and a “moon-man” sitting at the same table in the peaceful light of the afternoon sun. Vincenzo dominated the scene without trying, his height, muscles, and always pissed expression doing the work for him. Cammo kept his stony face on and sat in between Vincenzo and his daughter, eyes studying the stranger. Plum didn’t seem to mind the fact that the stranger could probably rip her head off with his bare hands, and smiled at him from across the small table, eyes kind and curious.

“You,” Cammo said, nodding to the man with the “X” on his chest. “Go first. I’ll go after.”

Vincenzo nodded and sat up straight. “My name is Vincenzo. And if you’d like to know, Guerriero’s my last. I’m eighteen…”

“You’re eighteen!” the girl asked, her already big eyes becoming bigger. “But you’re so tall!”

“Really?” Cammo asked, looking at him with suspicion. “Eighteen? You look older.”

“I get that a lot,” said Vincenzo, nodding. “But it’s true. In fact—not that I know how it works, with the coming back to life and all—yesterday was my birthday. I’m eighteen and one day, if it’s specifics you want.”

“What’s a birthday?” Plum questioned.

Vincenzo remembered that he was speaking to “emps” and not human beings. “It’s a day we celebrate the day we were born. Birth-day.”

“That seems kind of stupid,” the girl said simply. “For us, it's just another day.”

“That isn’t important right now,” Cammo interjected. “How’d you die?”

“Burned to death,” he said, leaning back. “Not nice, I can say that for sure. Not nice at all…”

“That sounds horrible,” the girl commented. “Are you okay?”

“You get over it,” he lied, waving her off. “I’m alive, and I don’t look burned either. So, that’s pretty cool…” He sighed and stared off into nothing. “But it wasn’t nice at all.”

“Okay,” said Cammo. “Plum, you’re next. Introduce yourself.”

Plum gave him a frustrated glare before smiling at the—well, not one anymore—stranger. “My name is Plum Noowurl. My papa’s familial name was ‘Noo’, and my mama’s…” she began, emotion disappearing from her face. “Uh… ‘Wurl’ was hers. She died.”

“I saw the grave,” Vincenzo said. “When I was coming up the stairs… I’m sorry about that.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Plum muttered, life returning the moment she got off the sore subject. “I’m eleven.”

“What? You’re eleven?” Vincenzo chuckled in disbelief. When she glared at him, he looked over to Cammo. “Really?”

The emp nodded. “From your size, I’m guessing that your aging process is gradual. Emps grow in stages. We eat a lot, go comatose, grow during that time, and do that a couple times over our life cycle. She’ll look her age around thirteen or twelve, continue without growing until sixteen where she’ll grow again. It happens three more times and that’s it. You most likely thought she was six, but she isn’t. She’s eleven.”

“I’m not a baby,” Plum said, a little angry at the man for assuming less. “And I’m not a little kid.”

“That’s enough, Plum,” Cammo interjected again. “It’s my turn now. My name is Cammo Noowurl. I’m fifty-six years old.”

Vincenzo thought he looked either in his early thirties or late twenties, but he wasn’t about to argue. As Cammo said, they age differently. That was explanation enough.

“We’re wizards, me and Plum. And our journey will be long. Three months, almost.”

“Okay, I get that,” Vincenzo said, leaning forwards again. “But can I get an explanation on some things now? Now that we're for sure going together?”

“Some things,” he said, glancing at Plum’s excited shimmy forward in the corner of his red eye. She looked at him with confusion. “I’ll tell you things along the way, Vincenzo, but NOT all at once. Neither of us will. Understand, Plum?”

His daughter sunk in her seat and looked at the table, her joy drained. “Yes, papa,” she agreed, the words squeaking out like a deflated balloon. “I won’t.”

Cammo nodded and turned to the human, his face stone. “It’s insurance,” he explained. “Certain knowledge is ours until we decide otherwise. But for now, I’ll let you know two more things. One, the language we are speaking to each other with is Empish; you can understand any language once it is spoken to you. Consider it another gift from the Blood Moon. And two, the Blood Moon is what’s responsible for you being here.”

“The red thing in the sky?” Vincenzo asked.

“It’s alive,” Cammo stated. “It brings men who died all over the black depths of space here. Men like you. Men like the beast I slayed. I thought that… I thought that it’d come in half a year, but it didn’t. Now you’re here.”

“But why? What’s the point?”

Cammo shrugged. “Fucked if I know. But it does and we just have to deal with it. You’re here because it brought you. Why that is, I have no clue. No one does.”

Vincenzo didn’t know what to think. “Oh… I guess I expected something grander…”

Cammo shook his head again and got up. “Not even my gods have something grand planned for me or anyone else; we just live in wake of their whims. Get ready. We leave now.”

6

The backpack Cammo had ordered him to carry was heavy, with around sixty pounds of shit he wasn’t allowed to ask about. They were ordered outside where Cammo sat them down on the grass and quietly lit a torch, before turning back to his home and throwing it inside. Vincenzo was confused for only a moment, before the answer became clear. The crops that surrounded were already dying, turning black and shriveled as the orange fruits that grew out of them did the same. It was a burial by fire. Flames spread throughout the first floor and up the stairs, causing thick plumes of smoke to pour out of the windows and holes in the top, and the rest soon followed. Cammo ordered them along and they started away.

But Plum stayed a moment, staring at the growing inferno with wet eyes and a frown, sniffling…

Cammo called her: “Plum, we’re leaving. It’s best to leave all of it.”

She turned to him with tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “All of it?”

“You can grieve once you sleep in one place more than a night, more than an afternoon,” Cammo said, his face as emotionless and rigid. “But not now. Now, we move.”

The white bark turned black as the fire climbed up from the trunk. Plum watched it and finally turned away, walking ahead of them into the shade of the woods.

“Are you sure that was a good idea?” Vincenzo asked Cammo when the girl was far enough ahead. “Might be better if she went along without baggage.”

“What’s hanging around a burning tree going to do?” Cammo asked, angry at his brazenness. “How I raise her is my business, mule. And now that she isn’t around, let’s get something straight. That demonstration with that tree earlier wasn’t a threat; it was a promise to rip your heart out and shove it up your ass; a promise to burn you alive just like how you died. And if I even think you’re planning to do anything against my wishes or my plans, I’ll do just that. Now get moving.”

Vincenzo felt a little pissed at the obvious contempt he was held in, but cooled himself down. He made his choice. “Fine, then let’s get moving…”

7

As they moved further away, the forest grew thicker to the point they were forced to hike through it in a single file line, squeezing through narrow spaces and tight clumps of nature. Progress was slowed as a result. Cammo seemed annoyed at that fact and pushed them on with the rigor Vincenzo imagined a drill instructor used, but just quieter. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he didn’t like the purple hardass, either. Maybe it’s the way we started, he thought, pulling his stuck bag out between a pair of trees splitting from the stump. It had been a bad way to spark a long adventure, leaving a funeral pyre with barely a word… Plum hadn’t said anything since then, staring at the ground even after knocking her forehead on the fiftieth trunk, too deep in thought and grief to focus on anything at all. The sky began to darken as they went, leading Cammo to stop them when they reached a sizable clearing.

“Finally,” Vincenzo sighed, letting his rucksack fall to the grass as he massaged his shoulders. “It was starting to drag on me a bit.”

The other two set theirs down as Vincenzo sat on the grass. Cammo grabbed some more of the orange fruits out of her bag and tossed a couple into the pale one’s lap, producing a grunt and a glare, before handing them to his daughter. “Consider this your first lesson on our journey,” Cammo said, grabbing a knife as well. “This is an orage.” He peeled off its skin. “The only fruit we managed to grow… The skin’s a little sweet for my liking.”

He held the over Plum’s open mouth and dropped it without a glance, it fell on her face with a comedic plop before she ended up hoovering it in without the help of hands. An impressive feat, Vincenzo thought, and even more impressive that the emps could eat them without scrunched up faces and pursed lips. They ate in silence as darkness covered the sky, the torturously high temperatures mellowed into a comfortable warm. The light breeze that glided through the dense forestry even seemed to make it chilly. And through the gaps of the tightly knit web of leaves that protected them from the sun was the arrival of the two moons: one large and grey, the other red and small.

I’m here because of that, he thought, staring at the thing with a serious expression. Some part of him hoped that the “grand” reason he was there would steer him where he needed to be, where he could do whatever something wanted of him with reckless abandon. He didn’t want to have to think for himself, he realized. He just wanted to crash into something. So you can die? Is that why you want to know so bad? He shut his brain off and looked down, shoving an orage into his mouth and swallowing it whole.

Cammo finished his meal and grabbed two sleeping bags out of Vincenzo’s rucksack. “If you try to kill us in our sleep, well… just remember what I told you earlier,” he said, before turning to his daughter. “Get in the bag.”

He kept the smaller of the two open. Plum frowned at him as she held down her left foot with her right and removed her boot, before repeating the process with the other. Cammo pulled the bag up just as Plum stepped forwards, encasing her in it, and pulled two small ropes that tightened the fur-lined leather over most of her face; the only things left were her two large eyes for sight and her button nose for oxygen. Vincenzo chuckled at the sight. She looked like a caterpillar. Cammo climbed inside his own sleeping bag and pulled Plum in too, looking like a matryoshka doll. And just before drifting off, he pulled a black leather mask over his head and wrapped his arms around the small girl in what seemed like a defensive manner. Vincenzo raised an eyebrow when his skin turned cracked and grey like stone, but didn’t question it further.

Cammo fell asleep. He sat against the tree bark and lowered his head, holding his daughter with the stillness of a statue.

“Woah,” Vincenzo whispered, watching them curiously. Plum struggled to break free, but the rigidness of her father’s limbs put a stop to it. She sighed in surrender…

“Having trouble there?” he playfully asked.

She squinted in disapproval. “Yeah,” she said, her voice muffled. “I am.”

He replied with a low chuckle and laid on his side, using his elbow to support his body as he arched his leg casually, getting comfortable.

“So…” she said, accepting the fact she couldn’t get free, “why’d you die?”

“Burned,” Vincenzo said, yawning. The more he said it the less real it became.

“No, I mean… why? What happened that led to that? Does that make sense?”

“Oh…” In that small moment of silence after he replied he saw bullets rip through Aldo, a knife gut Pasha, Igor’s throat slit, and heard his bullet hit Geno’s tank and explode into a ball of fire. “No reason.”

“Really? So, it was an accident?” she asked innocently.

He could see a ball of fire fly across the room through the flamethrower’s nozzle and cling to his body, and he thought he knew what pain was waiting for the sinners of hell. “Yep,” he lied, barely registering the thought. “My house caught on fire when I was inside. Left the oven on…”

“Oh… I’m sorry that happened,” Plum said sympathetically. “I only got burned once and that was just a candle… And I set my head on fire once… but that didn’t hurt me—only my hair. I can’t imagine that all over.”

He nodded. “You were quiet.”

She did the best to nod despite her tight circumstance. “I didn’t feel like talking… I still don’t, but… but I need to say something. I didn’t get the chance to before. Well, I did, but I didn’t feel like it… I do now. But… give me a second…”

“Alright,” he said, watching her squirm even more. Cammo, the statue, didn’t even stir. “He’s a fast sleeper, huh. Heavy too…”

“What do you mean by that?” Plum asked, still struggling to bring her arms up.

“He’s not even waking up. He’s just sitting there. You’re moving around like crazy, and he hasn’t noticed.”

“He’s just like that…” Plum said. She finally pulled her arms up and loosened the hole, peeking through, letting the rest of her face breathe as she managed a triumphant grin. “I did it!”

“You did,” Vincenzo said, not nearly as impressed as she would’ve liked. “Now, what is it you wanted to say?”

She pouted a moment before giving him a warm smile, and said something genuine: “Thank you. You saved my life.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said reflexively.

“Why not?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but ended up closing it. The only reason he had to deny her was his past and nothing else. “Just don’t. It was a fluke.”

She shook her head, and he could tell she was staring straight at him despite the fact her eyes were just one color. “That wasn’t a fluke,” she said, stubborn. “You saved me.”

“I understand,” Vincenzo said, “but…”

“But what? I was going to die, but you saved me…” She frowned at him, but not out of anger or annoyance. It was a sad frown. “Can, can I tell you something?”

He nodded, feeling the night breeze come over him and almost force a shiver.

“When I was on the ground… and he was hitting me… I really thought I’d die… I didn’t like that feeling,” she explained, tears almost leaking out as she continued. “And my… my…”

She stopped and swallowed her breath, keeping the tears at bay as she shook her head, and didn’t continue. And, despite how violently he lived, Vincenzo’s heart was too soft not to ask: “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine,” she said, sniffing in such a way that made it obvious she wasn’t. “I just… I was scared.”

She saw her mom die, Vincenzo realized. That’d fuck anyone up. She was young too, and he doubted her mother’s passing was peaceful. I should’ve ripped that asshole’s cock off. I could’ve pulled that off. But in reality, he should’ve just come to her sooner.

Plum sobbed, quiet as a mouse, “I-I was… w-worthless…”

Vincenzo sat up and scooted closer, worry and concern clear on a face that most considered mean, and grabbed her hand. “You’re not worthless. There wasn’t anything you could do. I wasn’t able to do anything, either.”

“You weren’t there!” she protested, her voice still low. “You couldn’t do anything. But I… I just stood there and… and… I peed myself. Like a little kid.”

Miraculously, the girl still refused to let the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes stroll down her cheeks—but it was a losing battle. Vincenzo could see that she was a second away from a complete breakdown, and whatever he was saying wasn’t working… His sympathy was useless. So why not empathy? “I lied to you,” he confessed. “I didn’t die in an accident.”

She sniffled and looked at him with curiosity and just a tad of betrayal, and it stung him a bit. Nevertheless, he continued:

“My dad…” he said, pausing from the strange way the words felt in his mouth. “My dad died, and all I could do was listen… He died for me. And all I could do was… was stand around, listening to him over the phone like a… a…” He stopped, a strange mix of sadness and frustration coming over him as he tried to explain; but the words wouldn’t come. He moved on. “And it was my fault. Tell me, Plum. Would that… animal have acted any differently if you weren’t there?”

Something was blocking her throat, blocking the air, so all she did was squeeze his hand and shake her head. And when she closed her eyes, amazingly, she could breathe again. “Why did you die?”

“Because…” he answered, realizing why, “I never learn.”

Even though his answer was short and simple, she didn’t pry and only nodded. She opened her big eyes and looked into his with an involuntary frown and wiped away her tears, still sniffling.

He knew it was time to change the subject, to focus on something that wasn’t so damn morbid; if not for her, then for both of them. “Think happy thoughts, Plum,” he said, managing a smile and rubbing her small and warm hand with his thumb. “You said you wanted to leave, right? Have you lived here long?”

“All my life,” she said. “To be honest, you’re the first person, besides my mama and papa, that I ever met… I never left this segment—” She cut herself off and her eyes got wide before she relaxed herself, a little embarrassed that she even jumped. “Do you want me to explain? We don’t have to tell him I did… I’ll keep it a secret…”

Vincenzo glanced at the mask on Cammo’s calm face, remembering the colorful threat the emp had given him. “I don’t need to know for now… But you’ve been here a long time, right?”

She nodded again and added, “Eleven years.”

“And do you know anything about the outside world?” he asked, returning his hand back to his lap.

She watched it go with a little sadness but got back to the subject. “I was told stories… and mama would teach me history. I know a bit about it.”

“Good,” he said, smiling.

“You don’t seem old to me, right now,” Plum said, smiling back. She started to blush. “You seem as young as you said.”

“Thank you,” said Vincenzo. Whether it was a compliment or not, he didn’t know, but he took it as one. “Is there any place you wanna go? Anything you want to see?”

She thought about it for a moment… and smiled when the answer came: “The ocean.”

“The ocean?” he asked.

Her nod seemed just as bright as her face had become. “Yeah! The ocean… Rolling waves… Salty water… The sun gleaming on an endless sea…” She blushed, embarrassed. “My mama described it to me a lot. I’ve always liked sea stories…” she explained. “But never the exciting bits where a sea monster jumps out, or a big storm comes along, or a whirlpool tries to eat up the hero’s ship. I liked the quiet parts where they’re just sailing across the water without a care in the world. But most of all, I want to look out far, without a tree, or a hill, or a rock, or anything to block my way.”

“You’ll see it,” Vincenzo promised, leaning closer. “Once you’re out, you’ll see the ocean and it’ll be everything you hoped it’d be. So, chin up, alright? We just have to get on smooth. I’m sure that’ll be easy enough.”

“And you’ll be there too?” she asked, hope lighting up her big red eyes. \

That was unexpected, he thought, searching for an answer. He didn’t know what he’d do, but that wouldn’t cheer her up. “Yeah,” he lied. “I’ll be there too… Now go to sleep. It might end up being a long day tomorrow.”

“I’m not tired,” said Plum, seeming much better than before. “Not a bit!”

“Okay, okay,” Vincenzo relented. He realized that he liked the little brat. But then again, he had a soft spot for them. “But you still need to sleep.”

“I’m not sleeping,” she said stubbornly.

There was something in her voice that told him it was for a reason. Nightmares? he thought gravely. Me and her have that in common.

She asked, “Where are you from?”

Vincenzo ran a hand down his face and figured out that he was the tired one. Still, he answered, “Italy. It’s on Earth, not that you’d know where it is…”

“Tell me about it,” she said. “I don’t want to go to sleep…”

Vincenzo spotted an ounce of worry creeping up in the back of her mind, and knew for sure that it was more than a childish wish to stay up late. Definitely nightmares. I guess I’m not sleeping either, he thought. “What do you want to know about first? We don’t have magic or anything like that, so it might seem boring.”

“I don’t care,” she stated, wonder in her ruby eyes. “Tell me everything.”