The pair reached the end of the desolate street and paused for True to catch their breath. They needed shelter, and desperately wanted their pack.

"Gallows!" a familiar voice startled True for the second time in too few minutes. They bit down a frustrated scream. Craned towards none other than Suni Valdivia, her daughter and two other civilians stood with her.

The barn owl and the feral cat, they realized when they got closer. Linc's bodyguards look a little different in the midday sun, sans the cowering and slinking. All their backs were unburdened, a detail that clenched True's stomach. If Radio didn't have their pack Valdivia didn't have their pack, then they'd just run out of people who might have brought it along to—wherever there was. They couldn't bear the thought of it lost somewhere in the Rockies. It made the inside of their head feel like a hive of angry thought-insects.

"Look who survived." That was Valdivia's version of a greeting. Her voice butted into the haze. "Good damn thing, too, you've got enough of my blood in you."

"Your blood."

"O positive." She tapped her inner elbow, as if that answered a damn thing.

"How the fuck do you know that?" they asked. The smaller Valdivia's head bobbled at her mother's side. "Hell," they corrected themself.

"You remember the house."

Right, the spooky too-clean house with the fridge full of blood bags and the cabinets stuffed with blood-typing kits. They remembered.

Big Valdivia waited a beat for the memory to sink in before she continued. "The factioneers who stayed there had a bunch of old transfusion tools and I used to be a vet. Between the two od us, we got you earthside." She gestured to Radio.

"Earth," they let the word die and unspool bonelessly from the end of a too-short breath. Down by their waist, out of sight, Radio looped the tail of their sash around their hand. Rough fabric scratched their skin. "Where?"

"Vancouver," Valdivia tipped her head in the opposite direction, motioning for them to walk with her. "We're on our way back to my caravan now, come with us."

"Where is my pack?"

"Don't worry, I know how you scavengers are with your stuff. It's safe at my caravan, everything's the same except your first air kit is used up."

The thought insects riled, swarming down their spine. They knew before Valdivia spoke that if the pack had made it here with them, it wouldn't have made it untouched, but knowing it and hearing about it were different. Hearing about it filled them with disquiet that they were too raw to deal with.

Rough fabric tightened over their hand. They pinched a tassel, rolling it between their thumb and finger. The bite of the thread brought them back. Not all the way, but it made them a little less like a hive of angry bees. They hadn't lost everything, they had what was in their pockets, and if they trusted—that was a stretch, alright, believed Valdivia, then their pack was waiting for them.

"That's your biggest concern?" The Cal dropped his two cents into the conversation.

"Yeah, Cal, it is," True said, grinding the tassel into the side of their finger. Survival first, details later. If that was the kind of question Cal asked then maybe he was less of a feral cat and more of a house pet.

"You remember." Mu, the owl-faced one, beamed. He scratched the back of his neck, smile melting into a nervous chuckle. Scrunching his fists into the crooks of his elbows, thumbs under fingers. Not much fighting sense in him, True thought. It was a wonder Linc had picked him up as a bodyguard. He was monstrously tall, and without a lick of sense he would be almost too easy to manipulate. A personal golem.

"Did you see her?" Mu sank to a stage whisper, as if it wasn't already difficult to hear him, "in there?"

"Was it scary in there?" Valdivia's mini-me bubbled in. She, too, framed her question in a stage whisper. She turned to peer at True with her good eye, knocking into her mother as she did. Big Val righted her with a gentle, practiced ease. "I bet it was scary."

"It's not that scary," Mu said.

"To you!" Little Val crossed her arms. "There's shadow monsters in there, they could eat me."

"Eliza's a—"

Big Valdivia cleared her throat, cutting off Mu. His mouth snapped shut, a lick of repentance curling his shoulders up to his ears. But the kid wasn't stupid, and True could see the colour draining from her face.

Speaking of the fox woman.

"Eliza traded something to get me fixed," they cut in, drawing the attention from the nightmarish children-eating shadows. They needed to know how much they had to trade back to make up for the stitches. "Explain that to me."

It was Cal who filled in the blanks. "We didn't know Linc's gun was empty. Eliza put it together after that comment you made."

"She's smart," Mu interrupted.

"She's crazy," Cal said, "she dragged us all up here to hang out with Doctor Demented."

"This is her home," Mu said softly.

Cal started to snap back, but caught himself, grey eyes darting to the kid. "Whatever. We're here now, and since we owed you one for the bullet, so are you. You're welcome." He wrapped up his story the same way he'd started it quick and to the point.

Well, at least that was one question answer.

The Valdivias led them down a coastal road, past a broken-down pier shelter. Patchy slate clouds and dark, choppy waters spanned the distance between where they crouched and the fist-sized island teeming with activity. Rusted metal and greying wood made up the ancient metal monolith, bay doors hung open like a hungry mouth to take in its victims. Gravel and foot traffic kept most of the island foliage at bay, and if True craned they could make out the corner of a storage shed tucked on the other side of the island.

Sheets of pressboard and old tarps had been fastened over the places in the factory walls where the elements had eaten the exterior or windows had been smashed out. Someone had spray painted a fire red medic symbol over on of the boards and it cast an angry gaze over the only way onto the island; a concrete bridge that had been washed away.

Who else was watching? There were two patrols circling the island, and one stationed on the factory side of the bridge, but True couldn't tell if there were any more spying out of the upper levels of the factory itself.

"Used to be a fishing factory," Big Valdivia whispered, "the Reds moved in last summer... come to think of it, we lost a lot of the caravan around that time, too."

"Lost?" True asked.

Big Valdivia shrugged. "There hasn't been an After Market in this area since those guys arrived. We've been forced to go farther for new supplies, and we knew some people left to join the Faction but the rest? We figured they found greener pastures."

Grim silence settled over the group. True tracked a factioneer as he walked across the bridge. They couldn't help but notice how high out of the water the be-barnacled, rotting pillars lofted the main platform. It made their stomach clench. But they'd have to get over it, at least for the minute it would take to get over the bridge. Running a finger over their stitches, they peeled off from the group.

"Where are you going?" Big Valdivia hissed.

"Across that bridge?" they tried. They hadn't planned farther ahead than that.

"And?"

They threw up their hands, winced at the pull to their stitches. And? It was a stupid idea. And? They weren't thinking clearly. They weren't anything clearly, the world filtered to them through bubble wrap and gauze. And? They hadn't come this far to do nothing.

"How are you getting across?" Big Valdivia trailed after them with her hands on her hips, and Radio had abandoned the unspoken shovel's length rule to creep along inside their personal bubble. They nudged it back a couple steps. Personal space was personal space, and they could walk fine on their own now.

"Walking," they said, lifting their feet extra high for emphasis, and also because they were a child, apparently.

"What will you do if you make it to the island?"

Sighing, True stopped and turned to face her. They aimed an imaginary gun at her head.

"Pitches, from the woman holding all my tools captive."

"Come to the caravan for the night. We can make a real plan, rest, eat."

"We," they repeated, rocking back on their heels, they narrowed their eyes at her. Great, good, exactly what they wanted, to be around dozens more people. "Last time I tried to warn people it didn't go well."

"This time you have me," Valdivia countered, "the caravan knows me, and they know something fishy is going on around here, they'll listen."

True wanted to argue that Valdivia herself hadn't been willing to listen when they'd first met. But the truth was, True made people uncomfortable, Valdivia didn't.

"The Faction wasn't your problem two weeks ago. Your words."

"Quit being stubborn."

Bang, they squeezed the imaginary trigger and hobbled away. Stubborn was right. They had come here for one reason, and one reason only, and they would be damned if they didn't get that shit done.

"Wait." Her hand landed on their shoulder, unrelenting as she pulled them off course.

'If I have to light myself on fire to burn the Faction down, I will." They said it and they meant it. Shoving her off, they turned and had to rear back to avoid Cal. Someone really needed to teach these people what a space bubble was.

"Frankly, that's the stupidest thing I've heard in a while," he said and nailed True between the eyes.

A muffled commotion followed. Radio hooked Cal's ankle and snapped his feet from under him. A move that it definitely could have pulled before he'd crunched True's nose. Its grip closed on True's elbow, preventing them from staggering away. Valdivia snagged their other side at the same time and clamped her hand over their mouth. Mu broke Cal's fall, stumbling under his weight with wide eyes. By the time the first drop of True's blood hit the foliage, the dust was settling.

The groans of the swaying bridge swept across the shore, carrying Little Valdivia's quiet, "Mom? Is that Ali?"

"No, honey," Big Valdivia said. Lied. She was a shit liar, True thought, watching her knuckles go bloodless around her staff and her expression crumple and smooth with an effort.

A pair of factioneers cut across the bridge, quick like sharks through calm water. Faction patches decorated their jackets and a flopping red-headed body hooked between them. The redheads feet dragged in the dirt, and blood darkened the fronts of the factioneers' grey shirts.

True wrenched free of Big Valdivia, unsuccessfully. She let go anyway, in favour of cupping her daughter's face to turn her away from the bridge. True pulled their mask down to mop up the blood. Pinch and tilt, except they didn't have much to pinch so they settled for more of a smush and tilt.

"Tuguy," they muttered, shooting Cal a nasty glare. Radio smacked them.

"You're fine." Cal said.

"Come over here, I'll teach you how find it feels," True said, a sentiment that was greatly damaged by a wave of vertigo. Reluctantly, they steadied themself on Radio.

The frenetic energy True had been wired with since the fungus house drained out on the river running from their nose. Dizzy and exhausted in a way that made their lungs feel heavy, they managed to keep their legs mostly under them, and that was it.

The factioneers hurried North, away from the group hiding in the bushes. Smearing the last slug of blood from their nose, True pulled their mask into place and crept after the factioneers. Instinct told them to run the other way, but there was a hole in their gut where all their common sense was falling out. Or something like that. Their thoughts unravelled. Which meant they didn't have long to find out what those two factioneers were up to with poor Ali.

Radio pinched their coat. Valdivia might have been distracted, but it wasn't, and neither were Cal and Mu.

"Do you want to know what the Faction is doing here or not?" True whispered, breaking free of Radio's loose grip. Radio crossed its arms, but followed instead of stopping them.

"Wait."

They waited. More out of fear of getting whacked with that big stick Valdivia carried than anything. The factioneers shrank into the treeline, the opportunity to follow shrinking with them.

"Mu, come with me back to the caravan," Big Valdivia beckoned to him. She had her daughter tucked protectively under her arm, and she held out her hand. When the sunlight pooled in her calloused palm and the creases around her eyes, she looked downright motherly. For an instant, True could see a glimmer of who she would have been, before.

Too bad the apocalypse had scraped the kindness out of people a long time ago. She just wanted a big body to scare off lurkers while she walked back to her stay.

Mu cast a nervous glance to Cal, his thumbs dug little white tracks into the corners of his elbows. Only after Cal gave an approving nod did he split from Cal's side and join the Valdivias.

Alright, now that that was settled.

The factioneers had disappearing into the treeline opposite the shelter. True wasted no time scuttling across the clearing. They had to hope the watchdog on the other side of the bridge would pass them off as a passing wanderer. In a matter of seconds, they were creeping into the brush again, with Cal and Radio trailing behind, the factioneers' heads bobbing in their vision.

Deeper into the buckled city they limped, the gravel under their feet turning into broken concrete. With the sun beating down on them and grass tickling the tops of their palms. The blood damping their mask kept the pollen at bay, for now.

A handful of caved-in car frames dotted the street, unsteady tall buildings swayed on either side. A desire path had been trampled into the brush, drag marks and browning blood decorating the crushed foliage. The factioneers lurked between rusted car frames in a sheltered parking lot, stopping in a slab of sunlight that poured from a hole in the concrete above. One turned to the other, said something that made them both laugh, and they dropped the body.

Anger sparked over True's too-warm skin. That was it? They were leaving him there? The Red Faction had the gall to call scavengers immoral and degenerate and that was how they treated the dead?

They didn't even notice the factioneers turning to come back down the desire path until Cal grabbed them and dragged them into a bush-crowded alley. Heart cramping their throat, they peered through the dense branches. Spots danced in their vision, and they could hear the chatter and footfall of the approaching factioneers.

They reached for their shovel. Shit, it was with their pack. They grabbed a broken concrete chunk instead, clicking through the math in their head. Two factioneers, three of them. Cal could throw a punch and Radio gripped its knife under its poncho.

Sucking in air, they held their breath as the chatter grew close. Radio's arm snaked out, its fingers dug into the back of True's neck, sticking them in place until the factioneers passed by.

As soon as the chatter had faded out of earshot, True shoved it into the wall. It flicked both hands away from its eyes and pointed at them, a reproachful scowl on its face.

"I don't know what that means but when I figure it out I'm gonna kick your ass," True said, straggling to their feet. They stumbled towards the patch of sunlight. Someone had to take care of that corpse and the Faction sure as hell wasn't going to.

"I'm surprised you two are still traveling together. Shadow crawlers and scavengers don't normally get along."

"It's a scavenger."

"A scavenger without a pack," Cal said like he thought it was bullshit. Because it was bullshit.

"Yeah." True snapped back. They weren't in the mood. "And why would you care." He was the one who came all the way out here with Eliza, and she was the one with filed teeth.

"I don't, but Suni won't like it, and neither will the caravan."

True walked a little faster in hopes of leaving the conversation behind. Cal was right, but their head hurt too much to think out a solution right then.

The soft hush of grass and crickets blanketed the parking lot. A body lay akimbo in the sunlight, painfully bright hair matched a gaping red slash across his throat, purple-black bruises ringed his raw wrists and ankles. And he wasn't the only one.

Row after row of corpses heaped into little piles littered the parking lot. None stacked higher than the wild grass, so that from a distance the grass and the car skeletons obscured them. All a bloodless grey, stained with matching bruises and withered by the elements. And most of them... True touched the edge of their mask.

"Oh, fuck." Cal's strained voice came from very far away.

The body of the redhead marked the start of a new pile. His brown eyes had frozen open, and blank, one tiny and mucus-y.

If anybody asked, they would argue that the weakness in their watery knees came from the injury, a remnant of the pipe cleaner legs. Never mind the sinking in their chest, the weird old sore spot behind their solar plexus. All consequences of being overtired. They did not feel for the half-blind corpse, did not wonder whether the body would have been theirs, or Radio's.

They did not feel.

With practiced hands they straightened out the body, drew out their lighter, flicked it once. Twice. The tiny yellow flame swayed peacefully, ready to scorch away the evils soaking into the parking lot earth. With a grimace, they buried it back in their pocket. If they couldn't march straight across that bridge from here, then they couldn't afford to let the Faction know they were here, yet.

They found Radio standing over a heap, tracing the bruise that ringed its neck. The pattern stamped into its skin matched the marks on the corpses. It watched them out of the corner of its eyes, its lips compressed into a flat line. They signed its name.

Lifting its hands, it hesitated, then seemed to think twice about signing and crouched to write in the dirt instead.

Back later.

And it walked away.