Doomsday to the Maxi

#2 of the Doomsday Chronicles Trilogy, following the events of Doomsday by Design.

Free Speech Press

Truth is stranger than a fairytale.

4 Years Ago...

“Maxi! Oh my God—stop being stupid and come down!”

The night scene of pre-war Seattle shone and bustled with life on this long, tireless evening—and after an extensive night of partying, Maxi’s mind seemed heavier than ever before, burdened and plagued with thoughts he fought to escape and failed.

He hovered high above the others, a few members of the High Rollers gang standing three stories down, gazing up at the edge of the building and hollering for their leader to step down. Bess was shouting the loudest, and Joe periodically yelled angry remarks up at the edge of the rooftop, Tina bordering on tears, Branden simply standing by and looking conflicted. The rest of the High Rollers were still inside the club across the street, unaware of what was transpiring—all except for the big and burly Rocky, who was slowly creeping up the fire escape behind the building, hoping to ambush Maxi from behind and restrain him.

Maxi sauntered up and down the edge of the building carelessly, combing his sandy hairs back and chuckling as he tottered dangerously close to falling to his death.

He upturned his flask and drank, wiping his mouth and draining it before rearing back and pitching it clear off the building, the little metal flask soaring through the air and taking a long fall downward before clattering loudly on the Seattle street.

Maxi nearly lost his balance after the throw, waving his arms once and just barely managing to regain his footing.

Bess jumped, her face twisting up with frustration.

“Maxi!” she screamed again, thoroughly agitated. “Would you stop being a fucking idiot?!”

“Whaddo you care?!” Maxi bellowed down at her, swatting the air. “Hush up now! Fuckin’a…”

“Maxi—for fuck’s sake—you being stupid isn’t gonna bring him back,” Bess yelled. “He’s gone! He’s fucking gone—just get over it!”

Maxi slowed to a stop, gazing down at her as if she had somehow managed to slap him across the face from such a great distance.

“Just get over it,” he exhaled, releasing a series of mad, breathless laughs. “Oh, aye, okay… ahahaha… yeah, that works! Hah! Just get over it! Aye, I never thought of that before! Oh, well, that just makes it all better, dunnit? Thank you!”

Bess sighed and glared up at him caustically. “You know what I mean.”

“No I don’t—no I really don’t,” Maxi chided angrily. “’Cause when a member of my family dies—I know this is a foreign concept to you—but I actually fucking give a damn! And I’m really startin’ to think I’m the only one who does!”

“Shut the fuck up with that shit!” Joe hollered up at him. “Goddamn, man—Lonnie was like a brother to me—but he got all fucked up on meth, and yeah, it fucking killed him! That’s what happens when you fuck around and take too much! It’s his own damn fault he died! And we can all see that shit—why can’t you?!”

“HE WAS TWENTY-THREE YEARS OLD, JOE—AND WE WERE SUPPOSED TO KEEP HIM FUCKING CLEAN!” Maxi roared in a rage, hunching hazardously over the building’s edge and leering wildly down at him.

He continued glaring downward for a moment before slowly rearing back, choking out a sob and running a hand down his face, his breaths trembling as he turned away and shook his head.

“Twenty-three… fuckin’ tw…”

Rocky slowly emerged on the rooftop, standing opposite of his gang leader, Maxi’s back facing him. He inched steadily closer as Maxi faced his comrades down below again, a tear rolling down his cheek as he continued to fume at them with disdain.

“You lot just don’t care,” Maxi figured. “I really don’t think you do…”

“Maxi—we all cared,” Bess shouted. “But he—”

“No—no—you don’t,” Maxi cut her off, raising his voice again and gesturing madly as he spoke. “You ran me outta the funeral early so you could come here and party—all of you did. Why is—why is it so fucking impossible? Hah? Tell me that.”

Bess shot him a look. “Why is what impossible—?”

“WHY IS IT FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE FOR ANYONE TO GIVE A DAMN?!” Maxi exploded, jutting his arms out crookedly and almost losing his footing again. “Oh, aye, sure—you all know what to say. You all recite the goddamn stock responses like ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ or ‘we all cared’ or whatever—but you don’t fucking care! None of you do! You’re fucking empty, Bess—you’re fucking empty! And Joe—you little fuckin’ hypocrite—you’re all strung out on coke, and you’re bashing Lonnie for gettin’ all fucked up? Really? THAT SHIT’S GONNA HAPPEN TO YOU TOO! WAIT FOR IT!”

“YOU’RE A FUCKING ALCOHOLIC, MAXI!” Bess erupted. “DON’T PLAY THAT GAME—BECAUSE YOU’RE A FUCKING HYPOCRITE TOO!”

“AYE—WELL, THERE’S A DIFFERENCE!” Maxi screamed terribly. “I DON’T GIVE A GOOD GODDAMN WHAT HAPPENS TO ME!”

At that—he gently raised his foot, letting it hover over the edge and taking a deep, dreadful breath as he prepared for what came next.

Rocky slowly moved closer to him from behind as the other four watched Maxi anxiously from down below.

“MAXI—WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO TELL YOUR FAMILY IF YOU DIE?!” Bess hollered, her voice cracking.

Maxi stood on one foot, glancing down at her and laughing vacantly. “Pfffff… hahaheheheh… tell ‘em to have fun partyin’ at the wake, because they don’t give a damn either. Nobody does. Nobody does…”

Then—a distant ringing caught his attention, making him freeze on the spot.

Far down below, Maxi’s own phone began to ring from the sidewalk beside the curb, lighting up and vibrating from the spot where he’d thrown it down earlier in the evening, its screen lighting up in the darkness and slightly cracked on one side.

It played his favorite song as a ringtone, and the noise echoed on the night air, rolling up the side of the building and faintly meeting his ears.

“I traveled far and wide, lay this head in many ports… I was guided by a compass, I saw beauty to the north. I drew the tales of many lives, wore the faces of my own… I hold these memories all around me so I wouldn’t be alone! Some may be from showin’ up, others are from growin’ up… sometimes I was so messed up and didn’t have a clue…!”

Maxi easefully lowered his foot, standing properly and glaring downward with a stoic visage.

Bess huffed at him, stepping onto the sidewalk and lifting the phone off the pavement.

“I got your name written here, in a rose tattoo…!”

Bess answered the call, silencing the song and holding the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

Someone spoke into her ear who no one else could hear, and Maxi stared emptily down at her as she listened to the caller. After a few moments of this, he sighed dismissively and raised his foot over the edge again.

Bess then raised the phone, meeting Maxi’s eyes from a distance and narrowing hers pensively.

“It’s your little sister, Maxi,” Bess informed. “And she’s crying her eyes out.”

Maxi’s foot flattened on the edge at once, his heart jolting painfully and his expression beginning to fracture. “What…?”

“She needs you,” Bess told him firmly. “She wants to talk to you.”

Maxi gulped painfully, everything inside fighting him now, every notion of hopelessness seeming to vanish from him all at once, replaced by a sudden worry.

He stepped off the edge and turned—inhaling sharply and almost jumping at the sight of Rocky standing so close.

Rocky merely gave him a somber look, waving him over to the fire escape, and Maxi followed.

The two of them marched down the metal stairs of the fire escape.

When they reached the ground, Maxi hurried around the building and took the phone from Bess, holding it to his ear and attempting to clear his throat before he spoke.

“Mary?” Maxi uttered.

“M-Maxi,” the light, trembling tone of Mary O’Sullivan whimpered into his ear. “I wanna come with you…! Please come get me! I can’t… please come get me, I—”

“Mary… slow down. What happened?” Maxi asked, his tone of confident authority making a sudden return. “Where are you?”

“R-Rathskeller,” Mary sputtered weakly.

“What?” Maxi hissed. “Christ alive—you know you can’t go there by yourself. Jesus, did you walk there?!”

“Please come get me…!” Mary pleaded, fighting with her cries. “Please…!”

“Tell me what happened,” Maxi insisted, snapping his fingers and motioning to Bess, gesturing for her to go and retrieve his bike.

“J-Joseph got mad at me again ’cause I didn’t do good on my math test at school, and h-he t… he told me I…” Mary stopped and released numerous sobs before managing to speak on. “He told me I… he told me I was never gonna amount to anything, and he t… he told me I was gonna be worthless… j-just like you… and h… he…”

Maxi’s teeth began to grind angrily as he listened, Bess vanishing into the parking lot of the nightclub in order to retrieve his motorcycle.

“He kept… talking mean about you… and I screamed at him,” Mary sobbed. “And he… he hit me in the face…”

“What?” Maxi rumbled, his jaw twitching.

“I don’t wanna be home anymore…!” Mary cried almost uncontrollably. “Please…!”

“Where’s Dad?” Maxi asked. “What did he do?”

“H-he didn’t do anything!” Mary stammered. “He jus… he just told me to do better next time at school… and he d… he doesn’t believe me…”

“He doesn’t believe you?”

“N-no… he doesn’t believe me… he doesn’t think Joseph would hit me, but Joseph… he does… sometimes… he…”

Maxi’s hand ran down his face, fingers lingering over his mouth and curling around his cheek as his nails began to dig into his skin, feeling a terrible sense of déjà-vu.

It seemed his life back in Salthill, Ireland—and his dysfunctional routines with Joseph during childhood—were now happening to Mary the same way they had Maxi years ago.

Joseph would do cold and cruel things whenever Father wasn’t home, and Father would be hesitant to believe the victim party whenever he eventually returned, a trapping sort of situation that Maxi could definitely and unfortunately relate to.

He knew his brother and father were incredibly distant and practically emotionless at times, and he himself had gotten into numerous physical altercations with Joseph in the past—but he had no clue his older brother ever resorted to putting his hands on Mary before. In fact, it sounded as if their father had no idea, either. And, if their father was hesitant to even believe such a thing—then there was no way Mary would get any help out of her predicament.

Not unless…

A wild idea struck him, something he might face great consequences for—but the consequences almost didn’t matter to him.

In fact, as he stood rooted to the sidewalk with the echo of his motorcycle’s engine drawing steadily nearer—he resolved that they didn’t matter whatsoever.

After all, back when he was Mary’s age, he would’ve given anything for someone to whisk him away from his abusive home—and unlike Maxi back then, Mary actually had that option now. Removing her from this situation was simply the right thing to do.

And it was most assuredly worth the risk.

“Oy… kiddo,” Maxi muttered, his tone lightening as he flashed a small, whimsical half-smile. “You wanna go on a vacation?”

Mary stopped talking for a second, sniffling and stifling her cries. “Vacation…?”

“Aye… see, me and my mates were gonna head on down to Vegas at the end of summer again,” Maxi told her. “And, until then… we figured we’d tear up Seattle for a little while. I reckon you’d like that, especially if we’re stoppin’ off at all the ice cream places.”

“B-but you said I couldn’t,” Mary murmured. “You said I couldn’t go with you and your friends because it… it wasn’t for kids…”

“Aye, well… I figure you being around my lifestyle is safer than you being at home, apparently,” Maxi replied grimly. “I can adjust our plans a little bit… hit less pubs and nightclubs and hit more beaches and ice cream parlors. Oh, hey… you remember where Dad hides his credit card?”

“Yeah,” Mary replied, her voice seeming to brighten, and Maxi could almost see the smirk forming along her face now. “I took it before I left…”

“Hah! Thatta girl,” Maxi laughed. “Okay. We’re gonna pocket some cash and start your summer vacation a little early. You and me… we’re gonna spend the whole summer together. Hell—we might even start all new lives somewhere. Somewhere outside of Godforsaken Seattle. How’s that sound?”

Mary giggled breathlessly through the phone. “Awesome…!”

Bess rode out of the parking lot, slowing to a stop and propping the motorcycle on the pavement beside Maxi.

“Okay—stay right where you are, kiddo,” Maxi ordered, mounting the bike. “I’m gonna come get you now.”

“M’kay,” Mary mumbled. “I’m at the payphone outside…”

“I’ll be there real soon,” Maxi promised. “Love you.”

“Love you too…”

Maxi hung up and stuffed the phone away, glimpsing aside and meeting eyes with Bess.

“You’re drunk as hell,” Bess remarked. “You really wanna drive right now?”

“Tch. I haven’t had anything but that watered-down shit in my flask,” Maxi replied. “I’m not drunk. Not in the slightest.”

Bess stared at him. “Then what the hell were you acting so upset for…?”

Maxi gave her a long, searing look, a sense of grave disappointment glistening in his silver-black stare.

He paused for a second, sighing heavily and shaking his head without responding.

Then—he revved the engine, gripped the handlebars viselike, and sped off with absolute haste, racing across Seattle to retrieve Mary O’Sullivan.

The others watched in silence until their leader was out of sight.

The New Age

Four years after the dawn of the holocaust—everyone in Sanctum lived in relative peace.

The ordinary American lifestyle had changed drastically since the doomsday world came to be.

Searching for phone plans, job-hunting online, stopping at gas stations, and grabbing food from fast-food places were all routines of the past—replaced by the skills of old, as well as the new routines that had become necessary, hunting and farming for food, riding horses, scavenging gasoline, generating power on one’s own, communicating VIA Insurgence radios and satellite phones, working for whomever happened to be nearby and in need of assistance—it all became commonplace to the average citizen, many of whom—in this new day and age—belonged to the American Insurgence.

First founded by Dorian Levi, and named whimsically after a lyric from Flobots song—the doomsday-prepping Insurgence spanned far and wide across and even beyond the country now, each state’s homestead having spread throughout their respective lands and having claimed or created numerous towns and cities on a whole.

The wildlands remained in many places—the unclaimed and unsafe areas of the American wasteland—but the Insurgence worked hard to create a foundation of stability during the long four years that passed since the bombs destroyed the infrastructure of the old world, as well as the governments and countless civilians across the globe.

And now—the Insurgence was no longer a simple network of doomsday preppers discussing their hobbies, skills, and conspiracy theories amid their own communities.

They’d become the brand new backbone of America—with sheriffs and mayors, with communications across the country, with trading routes from state to state, and with tools, guns, medical supplies, foods, and ammo being manufactured on the regular.

It brought an era of peace to America—and to Sanctum, Nevada, where Maxi and his friends had settled since the new world first began.

A long, adventurous, and painful road led Maxi O’Sullivan to his new home—losing his little sister to a tragic car accident, meeting Sandra, Jon, and Arya at St. Luke’s Medical Center, being betrayed and attacked by his old gang, the High Rollers—traveling through the fresh apocalypse in search of Sanctum, and scouring high and low for the Insurgence’s first founder, Sandra’s uncle, Dorian.

The journey led them all the way up to Washington, where Joseph O’Sullivan had seized total control of the infrastructure, using his high-ranking job at Seattle Imports to hold power over all the food brought into Seattle. He’d walled off the city, brought in numerous civilians by force, and even planned to cut down on the population and remove the possibility of an uprising—but as luck would have it, Maxi returned home to Seattle just in time to put an end to his brother’s dystopian reign.

A grand revolution transpired in Seattle, and Maxi ended Joseph’s life, allowing the Washington Insurgence to take his place and take control of Seattle, freeing it from its once dreary, dark, and desolate state.

And now, throughout the entire Insurgence—Maxi had a nickname, a title he didn’t even intend to earn, one he never quite knew how to respond to whenever he heard it spoken to him.

Folks often called him the Savior of Seattle, a grand and heroic title he felt he hardly deserved—but nevertheless, everything turned out fine in the end.

The folks in Seattle were saved from Joseph’s plan, Sandra was reunited with Dorian, and Maxi and his family of friends were finally able to return to Sanctum, free to live out the rest of their lives in peace.

Though now—he felt anything but at peace anymore.

His trailer sat on the edge of the mountainside, one of the many mountains surrounding the large, serene, and isolated town of Sanctum. The trailer—generously towed into town by Dorian and a few of his friends three years ago—belonged solely to him, a brand new home all to himself, a privilege he’d never had before now. It faced the vast open field behind the heart of town, which separated the center of Sanctum from the large flea market off in the distance—and now, Maxi sat in his doorway, his front and screen doors hanging open as he leaned lazily against the side of the door’s frame, his arms folded and his expression distant, watching the big party unfold.

On this day—August fourteenth, Dorian Levi’s birthday—countless Sanctum townspeople had gathered in the field, enjoying a humongous birthday party for their founder.

Folding tables were set up across the expanse of grass, a big grill sending smoke into the air as Carter and Maggie took turns grilling food, balloons floating above each table as the children ran and played. Various games had been set up—a shooting game being the prime attraction, one comprised of large hunting targets in the shape of animals, and all the circular targets on the fake animals had balloons taped onto them, which everyone took turns gleefully shooting at with paintball guns.

Maxi sighed as he watched the distant party carry on.

Sandra and Arya were just visible in the distance, sharing a kiss before sauntering off to grab one of the paintball guns. Jon was already positioned in front of the fake animals, shooting with great accuracy as his fiancé, Xaranda, clapped and cheered for him. Roland and Alexia had just arrived along with Ray and Shiro, the four of them heading straight for the food, and numerous other familiar faces amid the crowd were laughing, playing, sharing drinks, and chatting with one another.

Maxi’s eyes mindlessly followed them around as they moved about the crowd.

Jon Thatcher, Dorian’s doomsday-prepping apprentice—Arya Ashraani, the doctor from St. Luke’s—and Sandra Levi, Dorian’s niece and seemingly everyone’s best friend—they all seemed to wear the same grins as they enjoyed the party in full.

Sandra, Jon, Arya, and Maxi—at one point in time, the four of them were the greatest of friends, bound by circumstance and bonded like a family.

But nowadays—after a long, peaceful era of adjustment to their new lifestyles—it felt entirely different from before.

After all, the other three had lives now—partners to marry, plans to have children, and jobs they cherished here in Sanctum.

For a long while now, Maxi tried not to notice, tried to avoid the change unfolding around him—but it was impossible to ignore.

The four of them weren’t the same tightly-knit group of freedom-fighting vagabonds they once were. The others were moving on, as everyone eventually did. Everyone but Maxi himself.

He always seemed to be the one left behind whenever these life changes came to be. Truly, he loved the idea of friendship triumphing all, but the reality of it was plain and clear. Friends moved on, found new lives and new purposes, and found new people to become close to, leaving people like Maxi behind.

And it wasn’t their fault—they’d done nothing wrong, and he knew that—but it always disturbed him nonetheless.

Now, as he watched them enjoy themselves and mulled over his own thoughts, a gnawing restlessness began to eat at the back of his mind, one he’d been feeling for months now.

He felt as if he ought to be doing more, more than simply hunting with Travis’s hunting party during the day and watching old DVDs at night. He couldn’t shake it, the ache to act, the urge to travel; his life was filled with action and travel in the old days, and it was all he ever knew. Of course he was grateful to have a home now—but his old instincts were trying to claw their way back into him, and quite honestly, he felt as if it wasn’t simply due to the lifestyle he was accustomed to.

There was another reason.

It was another troubling thing, another thing he’d attempted to ignore—but the situation was clear to him.

For weeks now, rumors and whispers had been floating around Sanctum that bothered him deeply, stories of a mysterious faction in the wasteland indulging human-trafficking, not to mention the utterances he’d heard about food and ammo shortages amidst the various Insurgencies across America. The Insurgence was sometimes clashing with a faction of human-traffickers, and he seemed to hear more and more distant tales about it every day.

He couldn’t know why—why such stories bothered him so much, especially since they didn’t concern him, and he didn’t even know how true they were—but they simply did bother him, and it seemed to be weighing extra heavily on his mind now.

Not to mention, watching all of his friends move on with their lives.

Maxi continued to scan over the massive crowd of Dorian’s birthday party, his eyes narrowing, only just realizing that the man of the hour was nowhere to be seen throughout the great party.

Then—a gentle tapping caught his attention, and Maxi straightened up, glancing to the side and spotting Dorian just next to him, tapping on the wall of his trailer and smirking.

He looked the same as ever, wild white hair messily combed back, turquoise eyes, small glasses clipped to the collar of his dark button-up, and sleeves rolled up to the elbows in order to combat the heat of late summer.

“Oy…” Maxi sat fully upright, giving him a nod. “Whatcha say, Prepper Man?”

Dorian shrugged and pocketed his hands. “Just wondering why you’re not at the party.”

Maxi chuckled. “It’s your birthday, mate—why aren’t you there?”

“Oh, I was. Just stepped away for a break,” Dorian told him.

“Okay then. Whatcha need?” Maxi asked. “Damage control? Somebody get in another fight at the saloon?”

“No, no… not today,” Dorian replied with a laugh. “Actually… can we talk for a sec?”

“Aye, always.”

The two of them stepped into Maxi’s trailer.

To the right was the kitchen area, separated from the living room by a bar counter. The living room had a couch and a recliner facing the TV against the wall, and Dorian sank onto the couch, Maxi claiming the recliner and twisting around in it to face him.

Dorian intertwined his fingers, pressing his hands to his mouth and releasing a deep sigh.

Maxi read his expression, sensing something was amiss.

“Okay…” Dorian began slowly. “I don’t… really know how to bring this up, to be honest.”

“Then do it my way,” Maxi offered. “Bluntly and without a care in the world.”

Dorian laughed. “All right, well… Carter and I have been trying to work out a big problem with the other leaders outside of Nevada. I don’t wanna scare you or anything, but… some of the traders from Arizona aren’t coming anymore. We’re having a shortage of certain things… not a major one, but… point is… we’ve had to communicate a lot more with the other Insurgencies because of this, and… as a result, we’ve been hearing about…”

He leaned fully back, sighing again.

“Some of our guys in Texas crossed paths with a couple of those old black military trucks a couple weeks ago,” Dorian informed. “They’re usually just used by us and a scattered few random scavengers nowadays… but this was different. They blocked off the road, so our Texas Insurgence buddies went to talk to them, and a firefight broke out. Luckily, our guys won, but… what they found in the trucks was… concerning.”

Maxi nodded silently as he listened.

“People… and weapons,” Dorian stated gravely. “And I’m not talking normal people or normal weapons… I’m talking slaves and science fiction shit you only see in comic books. People bound up in chains, and handcuffed in one truck… and the other truck was full of supplies that our guys couldn’t even identify. Weird chemicals and compounds… and a few schematics for guns that they couldn’t make heads or tails of. All with the word ‘proton’ on them.”

“Proton,” Maxi uttered. “Y’mean like… lasers?”

Dorian nodded. “Yeah. But, the most concerning thing was… the notes they found. Notes and scribbles talking vaguely about their transportation plans… and, it mentioned a name. It’s not the first time I’ve heard the name, either. Carter and I have been hearing about our guys seeing human-traffickers moving around the wasteland, and this isn’t the first time our people have butted heads with them… but it is the first time we actually found evidence of who they are. Now… I know you and I have gotten pretty close the past few years, and I hate to bring up some of the things you’ve told me in confidence, but… it might tie together with this.”

Maxi squinted at him questioningly. “How?”

Dorian stared into him with a stern, troubled expression.

“One of the notes they found mentioned the leader of this little syndicate of human-traffickers,” he said grimly. “And his name is Evander.”

There was a tense silence following his words, Maxi slowly rearing back in his seat, his visage fading from confusion to severity.

Dorian bit his lip, staring down for a moment, then looking to Maxi again. “We believe the heart of this little organization is on the east coast, and we know it has more than one leader, since they operate in random places across the country… but the head honcho of the entire syndicate is named Evander. We know that for certain now. And, since he’s likely on the east coast, it’s possible that he’s…”

“My father,” Maxi sighed.

Dorian nodded again.

“Now… I didn’t wanna make that assumption just based off the guy’s first name,” Dorian said. “Just because he has the same name as your father doesn’t necessarily mean he’s the same guy. But, since your father’s last known whereabouts were on the east coast… and, since he apparently had friends in high places… and, since we’ve got this new information… I wanted to ask you. Personally, do you think your father is capable of running something like this?”

Maxi was silent for several seconds, leaning far back into his cushions and stroking along his chin. “Ehh… that’s… really hard to say. I mean… logically, yeah. He’s a cunning old bastard, and he’d have the connections and the brainpower to get it done. But morally? I dunno. I dunno if it’s in his heart. I don’t even know if he has a heart. I never really knew…”

“When you were growing up, back in Ireland… did he ever have ties to criminal activity?” Dorian wondered. “We know immigration is on the rise on the east coast now… all by boat, of course, since planes are a thing of the past…”

“Oh, hell… I dunno,” Maxi shrugged. “He was in business and politics before he hooked that job in Seattle. I reckon business and politics both have shady shit going on, but I dunno what he did, really. I never really cared, to be honest. I was never home. Place was chaotic as all hell…”

“Ah… so… Evander was abusive…?”

“No, not… entirely. Not really. Joseph was the abusive one for the most part.”

“Okay, so… Evander never hit you or anything. That’s a good sign.”

“Well… he did,” Maxi admitted. “But it wasn’t really…”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed. “Maxi—if he hit you, then that’s abuse.”

Maxi chuckled. “Nah, that’s Irish discipline.”

“Maxi,” Dorian said seriously.

Maxi groaned out a sigh. “Aye, all right. Well… it was different. Joseph would just attack me for whatever the hell reason. That wasn’t Dad’s way, though. Bloke was stoic and distant, very elegant, but… y’know… colder than Joseph. Harder to read than Joseph. And he’d only pop me real hard on the side of my head whenever he got pissed at me. Not that I’m sticking up for him or anything—I hated the bastard—but still. He wasn’t half as bad as Joseph.”

Dorian released a heavy cloud of breath. “Okay… well, that’s… disturbing.”

Maxi blinked. “Is it?”

Dorian frowned. “The fact that you even have to ask…”

“Oy—wait—hold on,” Maxi said suddenly, scooting to the edge of his chair. “You think if I hunted him down, I could bring a stop to his little operation?”

Dorian stared at him for a moment. “I thought you weren’t sure he was our guy.”

“Aye, well… who am I kidding?” Maxi snickered. “’Course he is. And even if he’s not—I’d be willing to hunt down a stranger named Evander and bring him down all the same. Especially if he’s runnin’ a slavery operation right under everybody’s nose, here.”

“Good God, Maxi… I just needed your opinion,” Dorian said with a chuckle. “I wasn’t asking you to travel across the country and bring down a criminal empire.”

“Yeeeah… but c’mon,” Maxi grinned devilishly. “Hell of a mission, innit? And with a hell of a good turnout if I manage to get it done. Stopping slavery. I’d fight for that in a heartbeat.”

“Maxi,” Dorian muttered, his tone darkening. “That’s an extremely dangerous thing to take on.”

“So? Lookit this,” Maxi replied, reaching into his shirt and pulling out the silvery round necklace hanging off him, his Insurgence ID reading Maxi O’Sullivan. “Every ally we have out there knows who I am, and you know me pretty damn well by now—so you know I could wrangle together an army made of Insurgence folks if I ever needed to.”

“You seem excited,” Dorian observed. “Like you really want to…”

“Oy—I’m wastin’ away here, mate,” Maxi told him. “I’m not used to being cooped up all the time—and it ain’t like I don’t appreciate it, because I do—but I’m just not ready to settle yet. I got nobody to settle with—and there’s a lot more to be done out there. Especially if there’s a bloody slave operation going on.”

Dorian stared into him for a long while without speaking.

Eventually, he leaned back again, sighing deeply and scratching his stubble.

“Damn,” he exhaled. “I feel like I shouldn’t have even told you…”

“What?” Maxi barked, giving him a look. “Why?”

“Because,” Dorian responded. “I don’t wanna send you out there to God knows—”

He pressed a fist to his mouth, falling silent and shaking his head.

“Okay,” Dorian uttered seconds later, facing him properly. “Okay… I’m not totally against the idea… but you have to be extremely careful, Maxi. There are still a million different places that are totally unaccounted for out there, full of raiders, and cannibals, and God knows what else. And you can’t go alone, either. You need at least one person at your back.”

“What? No… I can’t take anyone,” Maxi determined. “All my mates here have people they have to stay here for. I’m the only one who doesn’t.”

“Oh—oh, I know,” Dorian said, snapping and pointing at him. “There’s this guy in Shostone—it’s in southern Idaho, and you’d cross right along his path if you’re going to the east coast. He was a detective in LA back in the day, and he’s a regular hand of law and order in his town. He’s a damn good detective, and if you’re following criminal trails, then he’s exactly the kind of person you’d need helping you.”

“A cop?” Maxi uttered. “You wanna partner me with a cop? D’you even know me…?”

“Trust me,” Dorian told him firmly. “This is exactly the guy you need. You can meet up with him in Shostone. I’ll mark it on a map for you. Matter of fact—I’ll mark every known Insurgence town along your route, and I’ll pack up John’s special truck for you, too. Electric truck with a bulletproof exterior. You know why all those mystery black trucks are electric? Me and Carter figured they were designed for a world that wouldn’t be allowing gasoline anymore—no, wait, sorry, that’s a tangent. Back to the point. If you’re gonna be heading out to the east coast, then you’ll wanna head to Astrovale in New York. My God—you really would have an army then! Oh, I’ve heard about how much Astrovale has grown, but I haven’t seen it! From what I hear, it’s a total metropolis now! Damn, I wish I could go—!”

“Jesus,” Maxi laughed. “Take a breath, mate.”

“Okay—okay, sorry,” Dorian muttered, swatting the air and shaking his head. “Point being—if you’re really dead-set on doing this, then you’re gonna do it right. And you’re gonna take a radio, too. We need to be able to communicate. If we had that before, then we could’ve avoided a whole lot of trouble four years ago. Now, listen—we don’t know a whole lot about this syndicate. We’ve been able to ascertain that they have one big stronghold out west, but there seems to be more syndicate activity on the east coast based on the info we’ve gathered so far. But if we find any new info after you leave, we’ll be able to tell you on the radio, and we can all keep each other up-to-date. All right?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” a new voice joined in.

Maxi and Dorian turned their heads—seeing Ray and Shiro standing at the edge of the back hallway. A stark contrast from four years ago, the two of them were in their later teens now, both considerably bigger and taller.

These two young boys—whom Maxi and his friends discovered during their travels, and brought safely to Sanctum—lived with Roland in his trailer, though they visited Maxi’s fairly often and treated the place like a second home, as Maxi frequently hung out with the boys on a regular basis.

The two of them had walked inside from the back door at some point, and it seemed they’d overheard a lot of the conversation, Shiro giving them a confused stare and Ray glaring pensively at them.

“Wait a sec,” Ray interjected, stepping forward and holding up a hand. “You’re gonna go to New York?”

Maxi and Dorian traded brief glimpses.

“Probably,” Maxi uttered. “Somebody oughta look deeper into this—and if it’s my father doing it, then I’d be the best guy to hunt him down. I know him better than anyone else.”

Ray and Shiro swapped their own glances.

“Maxi-san baka-desu,” Ray grumped.

“Hai, hai… wakaranai,” Shiro murmured, nodding and eyeing Maxi. “Nanni-ten—?”

“Hey, hey—speak English, both of you,” Dorian said with a laugh, waving loosely between them. “Don’t speak in code.”

“Aye. And… if you’re gonna call me an idiot,” Maxi added, slowly reaching his feet and cocking his head challengingly at the boys. “Then you oughta do it to my face, you snarky little shit-birds.”

Ray and Shiro stared at him, slowly turning to each other.

“When did he start understanding us?” Ray mumbled faintly.

“When you started bunking in my house and speaking Japanese around me constantly,” Maxi chided. “And when you started watching anime on my TV all the goddamn time—aye, yeah, I picked up on a couple things.”

“Sou-desuka?” Shiro griped, stepping forward “Anata-wa baka-no-roba desuka?”

Maxi opened his mouth to retort, but he failed to create a response, inhaling a deep, frustrated breath and clenching his teeth.

“Okay—okay, I don’t know what the fuck you just said,” Maxi griped, jabbing a finger at him. “But I know it was mean.”

“He said ‘Is that right?’ and ’Are you a dumbass?’” Ray informed, Shiro planting a hand on his mouth and stifling a sudden laugh.

Maxi glared at them caustically. “Yeah. See? Yeah. Fuckin’ mean.”

“I guess you’re not gonna answer,” Ray quipped. “But if you’re gonna drive off to New York alone in post-apocalyptia—then yeah. I guess you are a dumbass.”

“Watch it,” Maxi snapped. “I’ve got important shit to do and it’s not your business.”

“You’re gonna die doing that, stupid,” Ray grumbled.

“It’s not a good idea,” Shiro agreed, much of his thick accent having diminished greatly over the past few years. “Especially if you wanna go alone.”

“Do I look like a fuckin’ newborn to you? Huh?” Maxi shot back. “I’ve seen enough danger to fill a lifetime—and I saw it well before any damn apocalypse happened. I’m not gonna stand here and get lectured by a couple of snarky little shits who’re barely outta the bloomin’ cradle.”

“You are stupid,” Ray determined. “You can’t even tell what we’re gettin’ at here. Damn, man… and I thought you were supposed to be Mr. Mind-Reader.”

“We can go with you,” Shiro stated. “We don’t have anything keeping us here, either. And you need backup, so…”

Maxi took back for a second, then shook his head. “No. No—you’re sixteen years old. I don’t need that weighing on my mind the whole damn time I’m gone.”

“We’re not kids anymore,” Ray told him flatly. “We know how to—”

“No—I don’t care! It’s not a damn vacation!”

“We know that—”

“No—ya’ don’t! And I can’t get caught up babysitting you the whole damn time!”

Maxi and Ray continued snarling at each other with Shiro occasionally adding to the argument—and as the three of them exchanged heated yells with one another, Dorian watched in silence from the couch, his hands intertwined and pressed to his mouth, his stare severe and fixating thoughtfully on the boys.

“All right—all right, that’s enough,” Dorian spoke over all of them loudly, standing and waving them down. “Boys—come with me. Maxi’s made himself clear. He wants to go alone. And Maxi—I’m gonna mark an atlas for you and pack up whatever you need in the truck, and then we’ll go from there. All right?”

Maxi nodded and released a deep cloud of breath, Ray and Shiro both shooting him angry and disapproving glares.

After a small pause, Dorian marched out of the trailer, Ray and Shiro reluctantly following him outside and closing the trailer’s doors behind them.

They silently followed Dorian across the grassy clearing, glimpsing at each other as they did.

“That’s messed up, man,” Ray commented, frowning at Dorian from behind. “You’re seriously just gonna send him all the way across the country? Alone?”

Dorian slowed to a stop, Ray and Shiro halting close behind him.

With a heavy sigh, he then turned to face them, sliding his hands into his pockets and giving each of them a serious look.

“I get it,” Dorian told them in a low, clear voice. “I really do. I nearly died twice out there just within the first few weeks. I get it. I know it can be dangerous as hell for someone who’s on their own, and I really do get that. But… the world’s changed a lot. The Insurgence has regular travels and trading routes all over, and they’ve made a lot of areas vastly safer than they were before.”

“Yeah, okay—aside from the slave-running that’s going on all over the place,” Ray griped sarcastically. “Plus God knows what else.”

“And the wildlands,” Shiro remarked. “The wildlands aren’t safe, either.”

“I get it,” Dorian reiterated, glaring into them firmly. “And you didn’t let me finish.”

Ray and Shiro exchanged eyes before facing him again.

Then—Dorian revealed a wide, childlike smile.

“I have an idea.”

“Hey!”

Just after Dorian’s departure, Maxi grabbed a bottled water from the fridge, swinging its door shut and glimpsing u—just in time to see Sandra leaning in through the front door.

She smirked and stepped inside, Maxi taking a swig before sitting at the bar between the kitchen and the living room, sparing her an interested squint.

“Whatcha need, Ginger?” he asked.

“I need my whole family at this party,” Sandra remarked, jabbing a thumb at the open doorway. “What’re you doing in here?”

“Eh.” Maxi leaned on the bar’s surface and shrugged. “Contemplating.”

Sandra shifted her red comb-over to the side, sitting on the stool across from him and staring into him expectantly.

Maxi caught her questioning gaze, took a deep breath, and explained it to her—revealing much of the conversation he just shared with Dorian, as well as the possibility of a secretive faction of human-traffickers emerging throughout the wasteland.

When he finished, Sandra wore a vacant sort of frown, staring downward and nodding mildly.

“Yeah… I heard some of the same things in the past few weeks,” she mumbled. “Dorian and Carter keep trying to piece information together and make up a bunch of new protocols for the Insurgence now.”

“Aye, well… see, it…” Maxi smacked his lips and sighed, looking away and feeling a touch of conflict. It was difficult to explain to her—but he truly did intend to leave for the east coast in order to investigate the matter, and he wasn’t sure how to tell her.

After all—the two of them shared a strange little kinship, an odd sort of closeness neither of them could define if they tried.

And—while Sandra and Arya were still very happily together—a powerful bond existed between her and Maxi, as the two of them had numerous things in common, from experiences to personality. While both of them were always fairly rebellious, hardheaded, and self-depreciating to some degree—they also shared the same hard streak of overprotectiveness, and Maxi knew for certain Sandra wouldn’t like hearing of the plans on his mind now.

“He said Evander,” Maxi uttered seriously. “Dorian said Evander—he used that name. Apparently, some Insurgence folks got some info on these guys, and their top leader’s name is Evander.”

Sandra met his eyes again, this time with a long, darkened stare.

Maxi nodded grimly, reading her face sighing deeply.

“It might not be the same Evander,” Sandra muttered. “It might not be your…”

“Aye… it might not be,” Maxi admitted. “But it might be. This really might be my father. Joseph said he went to the east coast right before the bombs fell… and that’s apparently where the head leader of this little syndicate is now. He was in business and politics. He’s in the right place for it, and he’s got the right skills for it. It really could be him, Ginger.”

“Maxi,” Sandra breathed, wearing a concerned visage. “I hope you’re not…”

“Aye—it’s exactly what you think, yeah,” Maxi affirmed. “I’m gonna head out east and see what’s goin’ on. Even if it’s not my father—I’d be doin’ some good in trying to bring the guy down all the same.”

“Why?” Sandra murmured sadly. “Why do you wanna leave now…?”

Maxi gazed into her with a torn look, releasing a cloud of breath and sliding his hand across the table, gently patting the top of hers.

“Lookit me,” he said softly. “This… is what I’m tailor-fucking-made for. This is the kinda thing I’m good for. And it’s not just because I’m good at it, and it’s not just because it’s my father… it’s also because I just want to. I don’t feel right just sittin’ around and doing nothing. I’d feel a hellova lot better if I was out doing some good somehow.”

“You can’t go alone,” Sandra argued. “I can—”

“Don’t you dare,” Maxi cut her off, shooting her a forbidding glare. “No. Doctor Man would have a goddamn heart attack if you ran off. He needs you here—and your uncles do, too.”

“But you can’t just go alone.”

“I’m not. Apparently, your uncle’s got some partner lined up for me in Idaho. Might end up making some other friends along the way, too. I always tend to somehow. Y’know I do.”

They stared silently at one another for a moment—Maxi looking determined while Sandra remained worriedly skeptical about the whole ordeal.

Then, after what felt like ten straight minutes of silence—Sandra finally gave him a reluctant nod, now flashing her own look of determination.

“Okay,” she said, her tone strengthening. “Okay—I know you, and I know you know what you’re doing—but you better meet up with this guy in Idaho. You better have at least one person watching your back—and you especially better get your ass back home when it’s over.”

Maxi smirked and laughed. “’Course.”

“You have to take a radio so we can communicate with you.”

“I know.”

“You have to lay out a route to take.”

“Aye… your uncle’s doing that for me.”

“You have to pack everything you could possibly need, and—”

“I knooow…”

“And you have to take this.”

Sandra reached into her black tank top, hooking the golden chain around her neck upright with her finger. She pulled the necklace off and handed it to him—the one attached to the shiny gold compass Dorian had made for her long ago, with the engraving on the side and the needle shaped like a tiny black spade.

Maxi held it in his palm, staring down at it before looking to her again.

“I don’t know how much I believe in luck or anything,” Sandra said, tapping the compass and flashing a half-smile. “But… if anything like that exists in the world… then you having that with you is good. It’s good luck… and it’s a good reminder.”

Maxi’s fingers coiled shut around it, his eyes remaining on hers. “Aye. It always has been.”

Sandra squinted at him. “It always has been what…?”

“This little thing’s always been a good reminder to me,” Maxi told her, slowly revealing his signature charming smirk. “And it’s gonna sound corny as hell, but… it reminds me miracles happen… and, that… well… truth is stranger than a fairytale.”

Sandra returned the smile, Maxi leaning back and running a hand down his face.

“Blimey… this is weird,” he chuckled. “Usually, I end up leaving a place because I have to. And I don’t usually have a family waitin’ around for me to come back, either.”

“Yeah, well… you do have that now,” Sandra told him flatly. “And you better not forget that when you’re gone.”

“’Course not.” Maxi stood, moving around the counter. “Now, look here… I dunno when I’m leaving, but it’s gonna be really soon. So… I’m gonna go ahead and say goodbye to you now.”

“Okay.” Sandra jumped off her stool and faced him. “What about everybody else?”

Maxi let out a stressed little sigh. “Ehh… I dunno. I don’t wanna deal with all that. And I don’t really want ’em to know until I’m gone.”

“Why?”

“Because… Jonno would give me a nonstop preparedness lecture for hours on end, and you know Doctor Man wouldn’t sleep until he managed to talk me out of it altogether.”

“Oh. Well, that’s… yeah, that’s true…”

“Say goodbye for me, yeah?” Maxi said with a whimsical smile, wrapping his arms around her. “I love ya’ to pieces. Tell ’em that for me, too.”

“Yeah… love you too,” Sandra sighed, returning the embrace. “We all do…”

Maxi straightened up and planted a hand on her shoulder—and Sandra grasped his arm, turning and yanking him toward the door.

“But if you’re leaving—then you have to come party with us,” she demanded, forcibly escorting him outside. “Come on!”

“Aye… okay.”

Maxi laughed, draped the compass around his neck, and followed her out of the trailer.

The two of them trekked across the expanse of grass, snickering and making small talk until they faded into the enormous party in the distance.

Maxi spent his final night in Sanctum lost amidst a cloud of fun, chatting with all the familiar faces and leaping into competition with Jon and the shooting game, shortly before screaming behind Arya’s head and scaring him, making him jump and launch a cheeseburger from his paper plate straight into the air.

“Oh hell. You’re on a roll.”

Inside the saloon—where Carter was serving a few of the regular customers—Dorian was leaning hunched over the bar’s surface, examining an enormous atlas rather closely and marking on it with red and black markers.

Carter stood on the other side, narrowing his eyes down at the map, then giving Dorian an odd look. “What’s the occasion? Who’s going out east?”

“Maxi,” Dorian mumbled down at the atlas.

Carter shot him a look. “Why?”

“He wanted to,” Dorian uttered.

Carter tapped along the bar stressfully, groaning out a sigh and frowning. “I told you not to tell him. I told you he’d go on a damn tirade—”

“Carter,” Dorian interrupted, raising his head and meeting his eyes. “He’s the only reason Seattle’s revolution succeeded—and he’s the only reason Sandra even got there.”

Carter took in a deep breath. “I know that, but you know he’s got family issues all mixed up in his head, and that’s not—”

“That’s not something that stopped him the first time,” Dorian stated. “Besides—if this turns out to be his father, then he deserves that closure.”

At that, he returned to his task of marking on the map, Carter eyeing him rather intently.

“Closure, huh,” Carter grumped.

Dorian nodded down at the papers.

Carter leaned firmly onto the bar, giving Dorian an investigative stare.

“Y’know what,” he mumbled. “I can’t help but think… this looks awful damn familiar.”

Dorian continued mapping out areas on the atlas.

Carter’s eyes narrowed. “That’s exactly what you said when you wanted to go all the way to fuckin’ Indiana when Sandra was twelve. You said she deserved that closure.”

Dorian maintained his task as if he simply couldn’t hear him.

“Because… the moment you found out where your brother was, you wanted to run after him and force him back into Sandra’s life somehow,” Carter added on. “And you just wouldn’t listen to me when I told you she was better off without him.”

“I did listen.” Dorian circled another area on the map, then faced Carter again. “Otherwise I would’ve gone there.”

“Yeah, well… all right… that’s fair,” Carter agreed. “But he was a crook. He ripped off a mob boss, Dorian. And you thought he’d have some miraculous change of heart if he got to see his daughter again. I know it’s a hard thing to wrap your head around… your own brother being that level of a criminal… but it was blatantly fuckin’ obvious. He was a danger to her, and it’s better that he’s not part of her life. And now, this… this little thing between Maxi and Evander… it’s awful damn similar. I don’t want you making the same mistake with him.”

Dorian stared at him. “You’re acting like I’m his father.”

“You’re as good as—yes,” Carter said straightly. “Because Maxi doesn’t have a real father.”

“Maxi’s also a grown man,” Dorian reminded him. “And he wants to go there. I didn’t talk him into it—I tried to talk him out of it—but he’s insistent on going.”

“Fine,” Carter disclosed, raising a hand. “Fine. But we barely know anything about the syndicate so far. Aside from the fact that they have a big place somewhere in Wyoming, and their main base of operations is somewhere in New York State—we’ve got basically nothing else to go on.”

“That’s why Maxi’s going,” Dorian told him, cracking a slight smirk. “Because Maxi’s a mastermind at gathering information from people—and his partner is a pro at hunting down criminals. Best two people for the job.”

“Partner…?” Carter leaned over the bar and squinted closely at the map, then stood upright and made an understanding nod. “Oooh… you’ve got him going right through Shostone.”

“Ye’ap,” Dorian grinned.

“Easton Morales,” Carter mumbled thoughtfully. “Good guy. Hell… I heard he busted a kidnapper right outside their town just a few weeks ago. No way of knowing if the kidnapper was tied to the syndicate, but… if he’s good at busting those types of people, then he really is Maxi’s best bet for backup.”

“Exactly.”

Dorian finished marking the map, lifting it and giving it a once-over before folding it up and stuffing it in his back pocket. “Well’p—now I’ve gotta talk to John about commandeering his vehicle, among a million and one other things.”

“Dorian,” Carter said seriously. “Make sure Maxi’s careful… and make sure he’s got whatever he needs to get this done.”

Dorian sauntered over to the swiveling doors, turning back and giving him a sly, caustic smirk.

“Carter,” he said coyly. “You know that if I’m good at anything… it’s preparing.”

Well after nightfall, once the party was over and his friends had all gone home—Maxi wasn’t sure how long he sat in the doorway of his trailer, merely staring out into the darkened Sanctum, a sight that had become all too familiar to him.

For a while, he sat still there, clasping the compass and his necklace, fidgeting with them blindly, his expression solemn and distant as his eyes remained lost in the wonderful sight of his only real home.

He knew he had to leave—but this was the first time he felt that he was leaving a place he truly belonged. It felt surreal to have a home, a place where he was honestly, truly welcome—but something pulled him beyond the gates of sanctuary, and as always, he had to answer that longing once more.

It was the trademark of Maxi O’Sullivan, to always wander until he found a reason to stay.

Sighing, he reached into the inner pocket of his leather vest, pulling out a pack of cigarettes he hadn’t touched in weeks. Smoking was a rare habit for him, but now, he needed a bit of relief.

He lit a cigarette, inhaled a puff, and allowed the nicotine to lull his senses just the slightest bit, gazing into Sanctum and wondering how long it would be before he saw this grand sight again. The more he thought about it, the sooner he wanted to go—as he saw no point in waiting around, and he certainly didn’t want to risk losing his nerve.

It was a familiar sensation, preparing for a life change and readying himself to embark on yet another journey.

Back in the old days, those journeys involved trips across Ireland or motorcycle rides out of Washington. This time would be different, but not terribly so, and the biggest difference wasn’t that the world had transformed into something new and apocalyptic.

No—this time, he actually had a real home to return to.

That was something he never had on any of his journeys prior.

It was a wonderful thing to have, but he wouldn’t return home until he found whatever he was looking for out there. He wasn’t sure what that was—but he’d know it when he found it for sure.

Maxi glanced behind him, where many of his belongings had been packed into bags, placed near the door.

He was ready to leave—and after Dorian finished his preparations, he’d be free to go.

Eventually, it was always time for Maxi to drift away and find the next phase of his life, and that hadn’t changed even with the coming of the worldwide doomsday.

It was simply that time again.

After a while, Maxi was able to see the lumbering shape of Dorian slowly approaching from the darkness, carrying numerous things under his arms and barely managing to keep a hold on them. Aside from the atlas, he also carried an Insurgence radio, a beanie, a gasmask, a large cowboy hat, a belted holster containing a handgun, and a huge bottle of wine.

Maxi slowly stood, eyeing him up and down.

Dorian grinned. “You like wine, right?”

“I’m a recovered alcoholic, but… sure,” Maxi laughed. “I’ll take it.”

“Okay—good—uh—” Dorian shuffled a bit, trying to hand him the wine, but he had trouble maneuvering without dropping everything he carried. “Could you just—?”

“Aye, here, gimme that.” Maxi took the belted holster and the wine bottle, relieving some of the load from him. “What’s with the gear? I have my own guns and stuff, y’know.”

“You don’t have the Kevlar clothing Jon and I made,” Dorian responded with a smile. “This beanie was his, and this hat and gasmask are mine. The same ones I wore during the battle for Seattle. I want you to take them with you.”

“What—are you serious?” Maxi asked, slightly taken back. “What if you have to go somewhere? You’re gonna need protection if you leave.”

“Oh, I have more,” Dorian assured. “Sandra and Jon and I—we’ve been making these kinds of clothes for the past three years. It’s become something of a side-business for us, remember? I guess we haven’t been doing it as much lately, but I have these things to spare now.”

“Okay then…” Maxi stared at the gear, releasing a heavy breath. “S’pose this is it.”

Dorian raised his brows. “What… are you leaving right now?”

“I was plannin’ on it,” Maxi answered honestly. “I gotta get outta here, mate…”

“You’re not gonna stick around until tomorrow, at least?” Dorian muttered. “Not gonna tell anyone goodbye, or anything?”

“Nah. I don’t wanna put them through that,” Maxi replied half-truthfully.

In reality, he was more worried about how he would handle a series of hard goodbyes rather than how his friends would.

Dorian frowned. “All right…”

Maxi offloaded everything Dorian carried, placing it beside his own bags near the open door of his trailer.

Then, he faced Dorian, and the two of them were silent for a moment, both wearing the same intense expressions.

Dorian released a cloud of breath, pulling Maxi into a hug and patting him once on the back.

“Be careful,” Dorian advised. “If you need anything, contact me. I wrote instructions for the radio on the back of the atlas.”

“Aye.” Maxi stepped back and nodded. “Thanks.”

“The truck is parked near the back of my house over there,” Dorian said, swatting loosely toward the town. “It’s packed up with everything you should need. Sandra and Arya are asleep now, so…”

Maxi gave another nod, pulling the keys from his pocket and inhaling deeply.

“Thank you, Dorian,” Maxi said seriously. “I’ll do right by ya’ out there. Seeya on the flip side.”

After saying their goodbyes and goodnights, Dorian reluctantly left Maxi to his own devices.

Maxi spent the next half hour carrying his packed goods over to filled and prepared black truck, popping the back doors open and loading the truck until everything was inside. When he was finished, he sighed and stared up at the house beside him, the tall, narrow structure where he and his friends once lived together.

Maxi took in a breath, climbed into the driver seat of the large vehicle, and started the engine. The vehicle was quieter than anything he was accustomed to; he shifted gears and coasted silently down the main dirt road, rolling past the saloon and cruising through the heart of Sanctum.

When he pulled to a stop in front of Sanctum’s gates, he motioned to the man standing guard beside them, gesturing for him to open the gateway.

And as he did, and as the gates rolled open, Maxi watched them slowly shift aside, revealing his exit and making him feel a wild bombardment of emotions all at once.

His friend’s faces flashed through his mind, his heart making a painful jolt.

He’d left for these blind journeys many times in the past, but never once had his departures been so difficult to endure.

Maxi found himself staring down at the rose tattoo on his arm—the one drawn for him years ago, the one decorated with the names of all the people he held most dear.

Hot tears formed in his eyes, but he quickly scoffed and wiped them away, feeling irritated for letting the emotion get the better of him.

“C’mon, now… stop it,” he scolded himself in a harsh, breathless voice, slightly shaking his head and trying to force every feeling of hesitance away.

When the gates fully opened, Maxi held his breath, gripped the wheel viselike, and drove out of his sanctuary at long last.

Somehow, he knew—from the moment he passed the threshold of Sanctum, and drove out beneath the darkened trees—that this journey would be one of the utmost importance, both for his life and for matters far beyond.

And what a long journey it would be.