"Run! Run!" Stanton yells as the fire the Burn members started begins to spread. "Everyone, back to the house! Walker, Lawrence, help me with Paul."

"Is he dead?" Emma panics as Lawrence and I pick up the injured man. "Oh, God, is he dead?"

"Passed out from shock," I answer, trying hard to move him without causing further injury. "I don't think an artery was nicked, but we'll need to get inside and tie and tourniquet around his arm."

Stanton frowns at me. "Are you a doctor, Walker?"

I shake my head. "Me? No, no. I just-I just know that because.... because um..."

I don't actually know how I know that.

But thankfully I don't have to think of an answer, because we make it to the house, shutting the door and dragging Paul's unconscious form against the wooden floor to set him down. Colors from the stained glass paint the walls and floor, a beautiful contrast to the bleeding man inside the house and the fire spreading outside of it.

Stanton looks at Emma and then points to the velvet chaise longue. "Get that up against the door. Lawrence, turn over that table. Walker, search the back room there for tools. I'm sure I saw some through the windows. And make sure the back doors are locked."

With a nod I dart off, first checking the doors, since I'm sure the Burn will try the most simple option first. Once I'm sure everything is locked and they won't be able to get in easily, I check that backroom Stanton suggested. It's clear she wants to board everything up, make it harder for them to break the windows or bust down the doors. In the back room there are some hammers, nails, wood-the standard supplies for a project. I'm guessing this is one of those extra rooms, which makes sense seeing how many rooms this manor has.

I grab up everything I can fit in my arms, trying to rummage around and find anything that might be useful. I nearly drop a few things, my balance swaying dangerously from one side and then the other as I try to keep everything from crashing down on the floor, or worse, my feet. I only pause when I hear the muffled voices of the others a few rooms down.

"Is he going to die?" Emma asks.

"No," Stanton replies, perfectly calm. "Here."

I flinch when I hear something ripping. Emma gasps loudly.

"The tapestry! What-"

"That's what's going to stunt his blood loss. We brought him into this. We can't let him die for us."

I swallow down the lump in my throat. She's right. Poor Paul had nothing to do with this. He just thought we were here to play paintball and stay for a few nights. That's what Charlie told him.

I wish Charlie were here for us now. We need her.

I head back to the others, supplies in my arms. Stanton sends me a nod of approval when she sees the long wooden planks, hammers and nails.

"Good work. Now start boarding this door up, and then the downstairs windows in the basement. We might be able to buy ourselves some time."

I nod. Setting down most of my supplies at the door, I pick up one of the planks and press it against the wall. Pursing my lips in concentration, I start hammering it into place. It's not the most efficient, since my goal is to keep from smashing any fingers, but it's probably not the worst that's ever been done.

Emma is busy tying up Paul's arm, and I'm not sure where Lawrence is. Stanton probably sent him somewhere else in the manor to get supplies that we might be needing. Even with us barricading ourselves in, that won't stop them for long. They've been following us for days now. I doubt a house-even one as lovely as this manor is-will turn them away.

That means we'll have to get food and possible changes of clothing in order to be stocked up enough to make our escape.

I'm really hoping that's what Stanton is having Lawrence do now.

I finish nailing one of the planks to the door, and then nail up another one. I'm not entirely sure how many will hold them, but I make a guess of three, mostly because I don't want to waste any time and leave the downstairs windows easily accessible to be broken into. Once I finish with the door, I grab the rest of the planks and nails and head to the stairway, clomping down them in a rather ungraceful manner.

This downstairs portion is large, but there are only a few windows. Since the cellar that's connected to this won't have any, and the sub-basement goes farther down into the ground, this room is all I need to worry about. These windows are small, meaning only one or two planks need to be used to hole it up, which makes work quick for me. My arms feel a bit fatigued, unused to this. I almost want to laugh at myself for being so weak after having been so strong before.

Wait... when was I strong?

I blink in confusion, but then shake my head and continue to secure the windows. Once I'm done, I set the hammer down to wipe away the sweat on my forehead. Something on one of the tables catches my eye, and I cock my head in curiosity as I walk towards it. It looks like an old wind-up radio.

I hum, lips pressing together in thought. My hand reaches out but stops just an inch short. Do I really need to try using it? I take a moment to consider, shrugging because it's not like it would hurt to try, and then grab the radio. My hand holds the crank and I start to wind it up, going faster and faster, my brows furrowing. It's doubtful that anything will go through because of the EMP, but-

"Hello, siblings in nature, and thank you for listening," A woman's voice comes through, and I nearly drop the radio in shock. A surprised smile spreads over my face. If this is working, then maybe it means Charlie will be able to get back into contact with us soon!

"I know times are hard at the moment," The woman continues. "We've all grown used to a world in which anything we could possibly want is only a mouse click away. We've had hot water when we want it, want houses in the winter, and cold ones in the summer. We can eat food from all around the world and every season, every day of the year. We stopped seeing these things as luxuries and started to believe they're necessities. We think we're entitled to them, but we're not. You're not! And now they're gone away and they're not coming back."

I frown. What is this woman getting at?

"Now you're probably terrified of the thought of coping without them, but there's no need. Our ancestors lived for hundreds of generations without these things."

"Our ancestors also thought the world was flat," I mutter.

"You're all descended, every single one of you, from survivors. You can do it! Eventually, you'll discover you'll enjoy doing it. We at New Tomorrow clearly have."

Oh. Oh, now this makes sense.

"You're probably very angry with us right now. That's okay too," The woman says. "Nobody likes to take their medicine, but they still go to the doctor. And the world was much sicker than most people imagined. It's nearly terminal. We've given you the treatment, but we can help with the cure too. We're not going to leave you to suffer alone. We'll be sharing all our top tips for surviving a post-power world. So, keep well, siblings, and keep listening."

My face twists into something truly disdainful as I put the radio back on the table. "No thanks."

New Tomorrow works with the Burn. I don't care for anything they might have to say.

I stare at the radio for only a few more moments, before I glance over at a newspaper clipping about wolves in Scotland. I think I heard something about that in the news before the EMP went off in Inverness. Footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Wing-Commander Stanton coming down the stairs. Her brows rise in surprise when she sees me down boarding up the window.

"Impressive quick work, Walker," She says, and I simply shrug. "Come back upstairs if you're done. We've moved Paul to the sitting room. It's better for him to be on the sofa."

I nod, following her up the stairs. "Is he still unconscious?"

She nods as we enter the sitting room. Paul's lying on the couch, with Emma looking over him with worry. She looks like she might cry.

"Wake up. Wake up," She tells him, clenching her fists when he doesn't. "Why did Charlie pick him? She must have known that if the Burn turned up here, we'd only be able to defend ourselves with paintball guns."

"And our pistols," Stanton adds. "But their weapons outrange us."

"Not anymore!" Lawrence shouts from the other room. He walks in with a wide grin and a rifle in his arms. "Look what I found!"

Emma raises a brow. "You sure that's not a paintball rifle?"

He smirks before pointing the rifle up at the chandelier and pulling the trigger. A crack fills the room as a bullet shatters through one of the crystals of the chandelier, and Emma screams.

"Yep. I'm pretty sure this isn't a paintball rifle. There are more in the other room," He says, sending a grin my way. A surprised, joyous laugh bubbles past my lips, whereas Stanton looks at him with interest.

"Well, then. Looks like we're still in this fight."

I sputter out to Lawrence to show us where he found the guns, and he does, leading us into the next room. He hands one to me, then Stanton and Emma. My heart pounds in my chest like a drum as I try to remember the last time I shot a gun. There's a familiarity of holding it, although I can't figure out why.

I head over to one of the boarded-up windows. My fingers dig at the lock to click it in place so I can push it open. Readjusting the rifle, I push the barrel through the cracks between the planks that have been nailed up by Stanton and Emma. A shuddering breath escapes my lips as I watch, wait.

A figure darts up and runs, so fast it's almost a blur. Without thinking I pull the trigger. Two gunshots sound off, and the figure moving around falls to the ground.

"You hit one! You hit one, Walker!" Emma gasps, and I bite the inside of my cheek. "Do you have experience with guns?"

"Not really," I answer. "I mean, I grew up in America, so I went hunting, but... that was when I was a kid-"

I cut myself off by firing again, managing to clip one moving figure in the arm, and I grit my teeth. The irritation in me dissipates as soon as it appears. Why am I upset that I didn't kill that guy? Sure, they might be after us, but I shouldn't want to just... kill them. I already killed one!

I killed someone...

The realization hits me hard, and I taste bile in my mouth. My throat burns, and I try to swallow it down.

The worst part is I fire again without even thinking, managing to hit another one somewhere in the chest. I don't even remember making myself do it. It was like my body acted on its own, muscle memory.

Only there's no memory there. I don't shoot people!

"You're a good shot for someone who doesn't have much experience," Emma states, fascinated. "Come on. Maye you can get a good shot through the next window."

"They're heading 'round the back of the house," Lawrence announces. "Come on, quickly!"

I stand up, following the others through the rooms to look through the windows. Even though my chest is tight from what I've just done, I still don't put down my rifle. We look through the windows that have been boarded up, frowning when we don't see any moving figures.

"W-where did they go?" Lawrence stammers, confusion and worry written on his face.

Emma purses her lips. "Maybe they left. There were only eight of them, and Walker killed two and wounded one. Maybe they got scared and ran home to their mums."

I force a smile at her joke, but the smile slips off my face as soon as she and Lawrence turn their attention to Stanton. She motions for us to look through another window, and as we do, Emma lets out a mocking laugh.

"Oh, yeah. Fraidy cats. Too scared to come out and face us now that we've got rifles, aye? What are they even doin' down there? Looks like they're messin' 'round with some cans or somethin'."

"They're setting the house on fire," Stanton states, and Emma whips her head to look at her, paling significantly.

"But I thought... if they killed us, the boxes we're carrying would self-destruct."

"They may feel it's worth the risk."

Lawrence's eyes go wide. "They want to smoke us out. We're here, with no Charlie, with a man who's fainted from blood loss, in a house that's gonna go up like a tinder box! If they wanted to force us to run through the front door and into their arms-well, this is the way to do it!"

"We need to search the whole house. See if we can find anything useful."

He scoffs. "A TARDIS, maybe?"

She sends him a dry look. "Just get moving. I'm not giving up just yet."

•

Fire crackles loudly, although it hasn't reached the part of the house we're in just yet. I flinch when Stanton fires her rifle, her brows knit together.

"There's still a chance. If we take out some of the attackers here at the back, we might be able to make a run for it."

She looks up as Lawrence dashes into the room, closing the door behind him. His chest is rising and falling from the sprint, and he drops the items in his arms onto the center table.

"Okay. I've done a thorough search of the house. More guns, ammo, knives. Fully equipped for post-disaster living, this place."

Emma points to the buckets of water. "I got these and towels, and Walker got some foil blankets, hiking equipment and other survival gear."

He nods. "Which will be useful... if we survive."

"We'll survive," I tell him, reaching up and grabbing at my cross necklace. "We have to."

His eyes scan my face, and he opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but he just closes it again. I can't waste time waiting to see if he'll try to speak again, so I start putting some of the equipment in my backpack and some into the other's, where there is room. It's best to have the equipment split up between us, just in case one of us...

I force myself not to finish that thought.

"We're in the old stone part of the house here, with an exit to the grounds," Stanton says. "We'll seal the door with towels soaked in water and see how many of them we can pick off before the smoke-"

"Kills us?" Lawrence finishes, and she glares at him. He pulls back a bit, but he doesn't look sorry for pointing out what we were all thinking.

"It'll kill us a lot quicker if you don't do as I say."

He scowls at her, but he doesn't argue. He just grabs a towel and dunks it into the bucket of water, making sure it's thoroughly soaked before shoving it at the base of the door. He grabs another towel and starts doing the same thing while I continue stuffing everyone's backpacks with the supplies we need.

I freeze when Paul groans, eyes fluttering open. His face scrunched up in pain. "My arm."

"Yeah, yeah," I say, gently, forcing a soft smile. "You were shot, but we've been able to stop the bleeding by using the tapestry. Um, just-just give me a few minutes. I found some painkillers and put them in our bags. It's not the strong stuff, but it might help."

He nods, his face still twisted into a grimace. The smell of smoke hits my nose, and the sound of crackling fire is growing louder. We may be in the stone part of the house, but everything else is going up in flames all around us!

Lawrence and Stanton continue sealing the door off, the room growing hotter from the fire outside. I feel sweat start to form on my forehead, and my chest heaves as I finish stuffing all out backpacks with the gear we required. Thankfully I found some extra backpacks with the hiking gear, so Emma and Paul will be able to carry some instead it all going to me, Lawrence and Stanton.

But Paul has the lightest bag-as light as I could make it without it meaning we'd have to leave stuff behind.

I hate how he's in on this now. He didn't deserve any of this. And now because of us, he's been shot, and the manor he's supposed to look over is burning to the ground!

Smoke seeps past the towels, and I cough, trying hard to catch my breath as I look through the side pockets of the backpack to find the pain medication. I found multiple bottles while raiding the cabinets, so I tried to split them among us, just in case something were to happen and we got split up. When I find some, I pull out the bottle and then grab one of the bottles of water from our packs.

Lawrence coughs and shakes his head as he backs away from the door. "It's no use. The smoke's getting in through these towels." He coughs again. "It's getting hard to breathe."

"We've-we've got to get out of here," Paul says, his voice slurring slightly.

"It's okay, Paul," Emma hums gently. "Sit up. Drink some water."

He grunts in pain as she helps him sit up, and I hold out two pills to him. He takes them without question, popping them into his mouth and swallowing them with a drink of water. I doubt the pain meds will do much good with an injury like this, but it's worth a try.

"They're... they're gonna burn the house down, aren't they?" He asks.

"You heard us talking," Stanton sighs. He continues to stare, waiting for her to give him a direct answer, and she does. "Yes. Do drink some more water."

He doesn't. "There's another... there's a way out."

"We've checked all three exits. We're surrounded. They laid a fire at the side, where the house is timber."

"I'm supposed to-I've lived on this estate for five years. It's my job to protect the house." He looks positively aggrieved as he says that, and I don't believe it's from the gunshot wound.

Emma stares down at him in pity. "We brought this to you. I'm so sorry, Paul. We didn't know. We didn't think this would happen!"

"It's the terrorists, isn't it? The ones who took out the electricity and bombed Inverness Station? I heard about it from cyclists three days ago."

"I can't be sure-" Stanton starts.

"Yes, it's the terrorists," Lawrence interrupts, ignoring the nasty look Stanton sends him. "They want to stop us because we have evidence that will incriminate them."

Paul nods slowly, before eyeing Stanton curiously. "And you're... Army?"

"I'm Air Force," She corrects.

A bitter laugh leaves his lips. "People come here because they want a taste of adventure. That's what we do, make them feel like they're in the middle of a war zone." He tsks. "Not so fun when you're actually in one... Okay. Help me up."

I grab ahold of him to help him stand. My face twists when he hisses in pain, and sympathy stabs at my heart.

"Take it easy," I tell him after I let him go, but he ignores me words and jerks his head towards one the stairs.

"Come with me. We're going down to the cellars. We'll take what we need from the equipment store, and we'll go through the sub-cellar level."

Stanton frowns, coughing as the smoke gets stronger. "Probably not wise to hole up down there. You can get trapped too easily."

"There's an old priest hole three, routes out up into the mountains. It's been closed for years. The tunnel's subsidin'. It's dangerous, but it's a way out."

"Then lead the way," I say immediately. I don't like the idea of having to crawl through the subsiding tunnel, but I think dying from fire or smoke inhalation is much worse. There's no chance of getting out alive or without being captured if we stay here, so we have to move through that priest hole.

We all put on our backpacks, but Emma opts to carry Paul's in her arms since it isn't very heavy, and she doesn't want him to be in any more pain than he's already in. When he leads us to the equipment store, we put in anything else we might need that I hadn't grabbed-boxes of matches, a couple of extra flashlights and batteries, and some thicker jackets. Paul says we'll definitely need those since we'll be getting out in the mountains by the time we exit the priest hole.

That's where he leads us to next. Paul crawls through first, trying hard not to let his pain show on his face as he puts pressure on his arm. Emma goes in next, then Stanton, then Lawrence, and then me.

Lawrence grunts as he tries to shift through the tunnel. "Ugh. Well, this is a tight squeeze. You're sure we're not gonna get stuck in here?"

"Not unless there's been a rockfall I don't know about," Paul answers, a low hiss leaving his mouth as he starts moving.

"So, you-you're not sure?"

"We're sure we'll either dire in a fire or fall into the hands of the Burn if we stay in that house," Stanton snaps, and he huffs.

"Well, I'm not convinced that dying all smashed up together in a-a tiny rocky passage is that much better."

She ignores his comment. "Everyone, turn your torches on. Walker, close the trap door."

As everyone else turns on their flashlights that we'd taken from the storage room and hadn't bothered to squeeze into our backpacks, I close the trap door. It shuts with a squeal, and Emma inhales shakily.

"Any chance of... openin' that door again?"

"We've got to keep moving," Paul says, pushing forward. "There's fresh air on my face. That means a breeze can get through, at least."

We move, slowly, although a second later we still at the rumbling of rocks and the vibrations under our hands as rocks shift.

Emma gasps. "What was that?"

"Only a few pebbles falling, for now," Paul answers. "This passage is 300 years old. The mountain is trying to take it back."

"Get moving," Stanton commands.

•

Rocks rumble and shift, and it almost makes me stop moving out of fear. The burning in my arms and legs keep me from stopping, since the faster we get out of here, the faster I can be standing upright again instead of in this uncomfortable position.

"I-I'm sure I just felt one of these timber struts move," Lawrence pants.

"Probably so," Paul replies, voice laced with pain. "We had to close this priest hole due to structural instabilities. We had a small rockfall during an adventure weekend. Banker got his leg caught."

He huffs out a laugh. "I-I think this is probably my moment to make some kind of joke about bankers, but I'm too terrified. Walker, can you hear anything back there?"

I go quiet and shake my head after a few seconds of silence. "Nothing."

"Then that means they haven't found the flagstones lifted in the sub-basement."

"Or they have, and they're gonna toss in a grenade," Stanton adds, and he gasps.

"You're-you're-you're a bundle of laughs, aren't you? Why not try thinking positive for once?"

"I have no time for self-delusion. Had enough of that growing up. Remember it was thinking positive about Adebayo that almost got us killed."

"Still," I pipe up, "if they were to throw a grenade down here, there's nothing we could really do about it to stop it from killing us. So, you mentioning it only makes us feel anxious, so there was no need for you to mention it at all."

She doesn't say anything, mostly because I'm right. She could have kept that thought in her head, but she was saying it mostly to damper Lawrence's hope that the Burn hadn't found that passage yet. I know she isn't particularly fond of him for some reason, but she doesn't have to be a downer and make the rest of us panic.

"They'd have to tear about the house to find that entrance," Paul states.

She replies, "They might."

"But not quick enough." He pauses as a strut groans. "Look. Ahead. Do you see it? Light!"

"Oh, thank God!" Lawrence sighs, and I try to look around the multiple people in front of me to catch a glimpse of the outside, but it's to no avail.

"Does that mean we're-" Emma starts, but Lawrence is quick to cut her off.

"Don't say it. You'll jinx it. Just hurry up."

"Here," Paul instructs. The tunnel widens a bit so we can stand. "Just up these stairs. Once we get to the opening, you'll need to jump."

He heads up the stairs with the rest of us following. When we reach the exit, I nearly choke when I see just how big the jump is. Emma pales, and her wide green eyes glance from Paul to the snowy cliff below.

"That's quite a jump for a priest to make. Were they all Olympic long jumpers or something?"

Paul gives her a half shrug. "Anyone's capable of more than they think when they have to be. English soldiers who want to burn you at the stake concentrate the mind wonderfully."

And with that, he jumps, making it with ease. I guess being the groundskeeper gives you decent athletic abilities, even when you've got a bullet wound in the arm. Emma takes in a deep breath of the cold air from outside and then jumps. She hits the cliff's edge and nearly topples off, but Paul is there to grab her and pull her to safety. Stanton goes next, and once she makes it, she turns to look at Lawrence and me expectantly.

"And here we are, basically fleeing the same thing," He mutters, straightening his shoulders before jumping. He makes it, although he stumbles and nearly falls on his face. "It's like we're uh, historical reenactors or something. Just really, really dedicated historical reenactors."

They all turn to me, and I swallow nervously. If they could all do it, I'm sure I can. With shaking hands, I jump, stumbling and falling onto my hands and knees into the snow, hissing due the cold. Lawrence helps me to my feet, a half grin on his face, probably because I'm the one who looked the worst while jumping.

"No one behind you," Stanton says, looking at the exit. "We've made a clean getaway."

"Y-Yeah," I say, shivering. Paul was right about needing these jackets. "Still we should probably keep moving to make sure our getaway stays clean-"

There's howling in the distance, and I stiffen.

"Are those wolves?" Emma asks with furrowed brows.

In reply she gets more howling.

A/N: Here you go, guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please be sure to vote and comment. Thank you and have a blessed day!