Chapter 3 - Refuge Point

"Why do you sound high? I haven't force-fed you the death-wish coffee, if I recall."

Angel, the gothic lolita, rolled her eyes at Dan's question before shifting her gaze to Vincent, her expression dulling.

"There's a lockdown downtown. A zerg escaped from Ward 5's prisons, apparently. I don't suppose that's you?"

Vincent's lips twitched. "No. But I might have what they're looking for. And it's definitely not a zerg."

"Well, you can't go home with Enforcers and Wardens crawling all over. Might as well come visit the grove."

Dan's confusion vanished in an instant. Without another word, he headed toward the corner, pausing slightly at the crumbling state of the room before manually opening the floor.

Click—

A hatch slid open, revealing a cylindrical tunnel.

"Is the grove connected to the system yet? I can't have Lola waiting on nothing."

"It is, but don't expect to do any programming. The 5 Mbps speed will kill you."

Dan didn't hesitate. He jumped into the chute and disappeared within seconds.

Vincent groaned, goosebumps prickling his arms at the mere thought of such god-awful speed. His gaze narrowed, scrutinizing the chute.

"How high did he make the exit?"

Angel blinked, then stepped forward to pat his shoulder.

"Don't worry. He calculated it so you won't break your knees."

Then, with a light chuckle, she jumped in. Her laughter echoed down the tunnel.

"Tsk, damn siblings."

Vincent stepped inside, then turned to the goths still lingering by the entrance.

"Don't dally. Make it look abandoned. As it should be."

With that, he took another step. And dropped.

The moment his body slid down, he crossed his arms over his chest. Circles of light flashed past, illuminating the darkness. His speed surged as he entered a shadowed zone, his body lifting off the chute's surface.

His pulse spiked.

'Damn rich siblings. Is this charged lodestones?'

The air whistled around him, the force pressing against his skin.

And then—

Whoosh!

The void swallowed him, its cold embrace soothing his adrenaline-fueled body...

Before spitting him back out.

He stumbled forward, catching himself, gasping at the abrupt landing.

"Oh hey! Guess we didn't need the cushion after all!"

Dan and Angel stood nearby, lifting an old mattress. It was worn, torn, abandoned for years.

It matched their surroundings perfectly.

The building they had landed in was ancient and scorched, its walls cracked and peeling. The windows were tightly sealed, the vents appearing rusted yet strangely clean.

No sign of human life could be seen.

But Vincent didn't need to look around to know. The heat on his face told him everything.

They were outside the bastion. Outside the Sanctuary.

He normally had no interest in risking his life in a biohazard wasteland. But his refusal to associate with the government outweighed any danger.

"I didn't bring my jacket. How windy is it?"

"There's a pile over here, but red dust season is over. Just take a mask."

Dan tossed him a gas mask. A new one. A high quality at that.

Vincent twisted open the filtration, bracing for the usual suffocating tightness. But nothing. The airflow was perfect.

The others donned their own.

Dan moved toward the bolted door but paused, glancing back to check their masks. Once satisfied, he nodded, unfastened the bolts, and pushed it open.

A brief vacuum sucked at the air inside, making Vincent skid forward. The heat rushed in, swallowing him whole.

If he had registered with the system and bought a display, he would have known the exact temperature around him. And the blaring warnings would have been deafening.

"It's 41.3 degrees. Not bad." (in Celsius)

Dan spoke while adjusting his strap. His goggles were tucked under his gas mask, and for a moment, the two pieces of equipment refused to cooperate.

"We should have brought them some water."

Vincent muttered the thought aloud as he stepped outside, scanning the landscape to see if anything had changed in the three months he'd been stuck online.

Dead, blackened trees. Cracked, dry ground. The persistent scent of burning wood. And above it all, R463 with its colossal asteroid belt stretching across half the sky.

It was the reason the world had ended.

Its periodic rain of meteorites had never stopped for two centuries.

"Wow, maybe I should disappear for six months next time. Doesn't look like anything has changed."

"Not true! We went from a 10.1 percent chance of collision to a 10.105! At least we'll live past 30 before both planets start tearing at each other."

"Great."

Vincent followed a step behind Dan, his eyes scanning each passing tree. At first glance, they all looked the same, burnt and lifeless. But then he caught the familiar shapes and shattered trunks, recognizing old landmarks. His memory of the path remained sharp.

He also remembered that the last thing he ate was a croissant and some coffee that morning. Yet his stomach wasn't screaming, and despite sweating, he felt fine.

'No headache. No dizziness. Should be fine for another hour.'

They walked for over ten minutes, leaving the chute's exit far behind.

The grove was nothing like the lush forests in old pictures.

Instead, a ring of blackened wooden shacks formed a rough horseshoe around a small clearing. Rusty sheet metal roofs sagged under their own weight. Clotheslines stretched from one house's window to the next, the faded garments swaying in the dry breeze.

At the center, a stack of crates sat beneath a makeshift shelter, its wooden supports looking one gust of wind away from collapse.

A simple wire fence enclosed the settlement.

And by the entrance, two darkly dressed guards raised their AK-47s the moment they spotted the trio.

"We've come to crash! You guys got any food?" Dan called out, waving a hand.

The guns lowered, though hesitation lingered. One of the guards sighed, shoulders relaxing.

"We got dried pig's skin and synthetic bamboo shoots. Take your pick."

The speaker shrugged before bumping fists with Dan as he let them through.

Seeing the same fist extend toward him, Vincent arched a brow.

"Come on, man~ We haven't seen you in three months! Lil' Zack's been waiting for you."

The fist turned, a thumb pointing toward a group of three kids. One of them bolted upright the second he spotted Vincent.

Without thinking, Vincent spread his arms—

And barely caught the zooming boy.

Air whooshed from his lungs as he stumbled back, gritting his teeth to keep his balance. His injured arm stayed carefully out of reach.

"Hmph, you've grown weak. Can't even tackle me anymore."

"No way! I've been eating meat every day! It's you who got stronger!" Zack grinned, his small hands gripping Vincent's jacket. "Brother Cent, did you eat more meat than me? Can I have some? That hotdog you brought last time was really good!"

None of the people in the grove wore masks.

They didn't need to.

The poison in the air had long since invaded their bodies. Inhaling more or less made no difference anymore.

Vincent had it too.

But that was one of the benefits of entering a bastion: cures.

"Next time, I will. I'm just here for a night."

Vincent rested his hand over his head and scanned the settlement.

Both men and women were battle-ready. Despite their sunken cheeks and cracked lips, their bright eyes betrayed their determination to survive.

This place was a refuge for anyone trying to enter the Sanctuary. Whether they did so by legal or illegal means didn't matter. Anything was better than fighting against nature and the horrors brought by unguided meteorites.

He froze as the memory of Daniel's suspended body in the void flashed across his mind.

He could bring everyone inside. They could test how long a living thing could stay unharmed in his shadows.

But then what?

Where would these people live? How long before the Wardens found them?

What if the Iron Warden found them?

His blood ran cold at the thought. His breath hitched.

"Brother Cents! Come see the game I made! I used the template you gave me to make a snake that eats apples!"

Vincent's thoughts shattered as Zack pulled him inside his house.

There was only a bed and a block of a computer setup, but even then, Zack had been the envy of his playmates for having his own PC.

The distraction took hold, and for hours, he allowed himself to forget that a parasite still clung to his neck.

That was until he used it again.

He had just finished staring at the screen, relieved that his message to Lola Ester had been sent, when he heard Zack yelp.

He turned sharply.

Zack had tripped on the uneven floor, and dinner was now airborne. The plate flew in an arc, aiming to land in the dirt.

They both cursed.

Vincent reached out in an attempt to catch it, only for the plate to be swallowed by darkness, as if it had fallen into water.

He froze. Then the plate of ham reappeared in his hands.

"That's so cool! How did you do that?!"

Zack frantically wiped his hands and bruised knee, hopping over to get a closer look at the plate. The longer he inspected it, the wider his smile grew.

"How?! Teach me! Teach me!"