Chapter I: Permanence
Olivia had her knife back, alongside her freedom. She could run, leave him to bleed out in the middle of the wasteland. Everything would go back to normal if she just... ran.
Her enemy was huge and could easily overpower her. But when she looked down at him, unconscious and bleeding at her feet, she remembered the bridge. Every fiber of her body cried out for her to stay despite the danger. The leather handle groaned as she squeezed it.
Her enemy. His fate in her hands.
Two weeks earlier...
It was a dark and starless night. Olivia moved quietly through the woods, her electric bike buzzing softly beneath her. The broken terrain, riddled with bumps, forced Olivia to fix her goggles once again.
There were no roads on this side of the border, even if she could use them. Mutants had no use for roads, not when their legs outran mankind’s bikes.
Yes, it was a risk. But such was the job of deep-diving scouts like her.
Olivia twisted the throttle, making the bike buzz louder.
Lights shone at the corner of her eyes. She followed them, slowing down as they multiplied in the distance, then stopped at the forest’s edge.
The ruins of a building, lit at various spots.
She pulled an old spyglass from her jacket and opened it, bringing it to her eye. “There you are.”
Figures walked in and out of the ruins, their thick, unnaturally colorful skins glowing from the campfires inside. The winged ones were particularly troublesome for her.
Olivia turned off the bike, then resumed scanning the place.
They busied themselves with their weapons, sharpening them, making new ones. Mostly spears and clubs, but there were some looted guns as well.
She frowned, stopping the spyglass at a particular mutant that sat by one of the campfires—blue skinned, with spike-like growths along his arms. A spear rested against his shoulder. Something strange in his hands.
Explosives?
Unlikely. He spun and poked at it; a bomb would have detonated by now. No, he was making it.
Another creature called him from behind. His fingers drifted aside as he turned to answer, revealing the small object underneath them—it was oval, made of unpainted wood, with a pair of wings amateurishly carved on it.
She knew that shape well. It was a common one in coming-of-age celebrations back home.
What is it doing here?
It didn’t matter. Olivia shook her head, closing the spyglass, when she heard a rustle from above.
She held her breath, waiting for the flying mutant to leave, then pulled a stained notebook and compass from her jacket once it was gone.
The map opened itself in her mind.
Her eyes lingered on the compass for a while, letting the needle settle down completely. She snapped it shut and turned to the notebook; a retractable sharpie attached to the binding.
Click.
Coordinates on the page.
Click.
She glanced at the ruins one last time, then returned the notebook to her pocket. And just like that, with the stroke of a sharpie, the mission was a success.
Olivia flicked the key, turned the handlebars, and drove away with a buzz.
“Are you sure, Liv?” her colleague said, holding the edge of the notebook. “If these coordinates are even slightly off, the upper brass is going to kill me.”
Paris wore a ragged aviator cap. A few rusty medals decorated his chest.
She smirked. “I might have mixed up the numbers. It happens.”
“Don’t play with me, Liv.” He put the notebook in his pocket. “Rockets are hard to come around.”
“I’m just a scout.” She shrugged. “What can I do?”
He walked away. “Everything’s bloody hard to come around. If only we had more bullets for those freaks…”
Olivia chuckled at him, stretching wide. But as the grumpy pilot disappeared into the crowd, she realized she had come home earlier than expected. Her next assignment was only a few days away.
Now what?
She looked around. The HQ’s cafeteria was lively in the early morning, buzzing with a cacophony of footsteps and low chatter. Soldiers with makeshift rifles, nurses in patched up uniforms, clerks…
Coffee. That’s what she needed. There was a machine beside the entrance.
She crossed the room and placed a mug under the dispenser.
Childlike voices reached her as the coffee poured. There was a school nearby.
Olivia grabbed the steamy mug, blowing on it, then took a sip. “How can machine coffee taste like socks?”
The voices grew louder, then a group of chatty kids stormed through the open gates. She knew the loudest of them, the bee right at the head of the swarm.
Olivia arched a stern eyebrow at him.
Marcus froze as he saw her, the rest of the students continuing without him.
“I can explain,” he said.
“What are you even doing here?” She lowered the cup. “Where’s your teacher?”
“The class is doing a tour through the military installations. We just went ahead of him, that’s all.”
Olivia breathed easily again. “Right. Not as bad as I imagined.”
“Told you. Save for the fact that we locked Mr. Brown in the classroom.”
“Excuse me?”
“Joking!” He raised his hands.
Something bulged slightly through his shirt. A necklace of sorts.
“Unbelievable.” She stared at him, speechless, then sighed. “How was your party yesterday? I’m sorry I missed it. Happy birthday, by the way.”
“Yeah, I know you’re busy, Oli.” He scratched his head. “I… I’m just glad you’re okay.”
She smiled, messing up his hair. “Of course I’m okay. Do you think a measly mutant would be a match for mankind’s greatest scout?”
“Yeah, right.” Marcus snorted at her jest, but he had that glassy-eyed look that unsettled her again. “Is it true that the mutants act like us sometimes? I mean… doesn’t that mean they are smarter than we give them credit for?”
His questioning made her pause, but she knew the answer. The trainers had been clear about this.
“Our enemies are cunning mimics, that’s for sure. They imitate human behavior to trick us. But I already know that, so don’t worry about me.”
Marcus stared at her in silence, then nodded. “Alright.”
He doesn’t believe it...
Olivia shook her head. “Anyway, show me what you got for your thirteenth birthday.”
“Sure, but I got just one thing with me right now.” Marcus reached under his shirt through the collar and pulled something into view. A metallic necklace, oval-shaped with wings, fully painted.
Her eyes dashed away from it, fixating on the coffee that swayed beneath.
“I should make my own coffee. This one tastes like socks, did you know that?”
Marcus frowned, likely at her sudden switch of gears, then pulled the thing back inside his shirt. “No, I didn’t—”
Shouts coming from outside cut him short.
A breathless, disheveled man burst through the entrance; his shirt frayed on the shoulder, as if he’d slammed it against a door multiple times…
Marcus’ eyes shot wide.
“Marcus...”
“I gotta go.” He bolted after his class.
Mr. Brown ran after the pranksters, cursing them.
Paris returned. He stopped beside her, watching the chaos unfold in the cafeteria with her, notebook in hand.
“I don’t know what to do with this kid,” she said. “His father was a good soldier, but I’m not sure I’m the right person for the job. I mean, I’m barely at home with all the missions.”
“Don’t overthink it,” Paris said. “At least he has someone to look after him. I didn’t have anybody.”
She nodded. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am. Anyway.” He turned to face her. “We got them.”
“Got who?”
“The mutants, of course!”
“Already?”
“Yep. Already.” Paris handed her the notebook. “The entire hideout was blown to pieces. Not a single rocket wasted.”
Her eyebrows arched. “That’s… great news. Do you think we’ll be able to push that front further now?”
“Whoa, slow down there, partner. It’s not that simple. But…” Paris stuck his hands inside his pockets. “It’s going to cost us a lot less now. Thanks to you, Liv.”
She nodded with a smile.
He walked away. “I wish I had done it myself, though…”
Olivia sat down on the table behind her, yawning despite herself.
The image of a poorly carved wooden necklace came to her mind. Thankfully, it disappeared when she rubbed her drowsy eyes.
I… need a nap.
She abandoned the mug behind, some cold coffee still swirling at the bottom, and left.
By the stroke of a sharpie…
