Summers jammed a fist full of socks into the sleeve of a uniform shirt. Nearby, Asle did the same with an older set of fatigues. This was the solution they’d come up with as a compromise. The group had quickly decided they couldn’t leave the base as it was. It wouldn’t matter how many allies they found if they came back to find the place swarming with enemies. Still, just leaving the twins, Pat, and Orvar at the base to keep watch would hardly deter any decently sized group. So, they’d decided to put up a front, going off the idea that their enemy wasn’t yet aware the army had left.

Which was why they were making scarecrows, they had more than a few spare uniforms in the base, stuffing a couple dozen to mount on the walls seemed like a cheap and easy way to make anyone that came looking think twice about wandering in. As a bonus, the disappearance of the patrol could reinforce the idea that the army was still going strong here.

“Is this a farming thing?” Summers asked, glancing over at Bard and his brother Viggo. The decoys had been their idea, which had honestly surprised Summers.

“Yes, Commander,” Bard gestured to the scarecrow he’d just placed on the wall. “But we usually stuff them with poison herbs.”

“Rotting meat too, attracts the beasts,” Viggo added.

“Kills the bigger ones when they try and take a bite,” Bard finished. “You can’t use their meat after, but they make good fertilizer.”

Summers stared at the man, then nodded slowly. Sometimes he was reminded these people were surviving in a world that very much wanted them dead. And, as people did, they’d adapted.

Synel was working nearby, going through the various maps of the region. The woman hadn’t quite mastered written English, but much of what the army had gathered offered a vague translation so they could communicate with locals.

“I’m a bit jealous I didn’t think of this to begin with.” Synel said. “Most of my work involves selling cheap weapons to villages. In part to create the illusion they’re more prepared than they really are.”

“Really?” Summers looked over the woman. “So, this is just another day for you?”

“Oh no, I deal with soldiers. Beasts sometimes. Not monsters. This is new territory.” She took a look over the base. “But. . . I have always wanted to build an empire.”

“That’s not. . .” Summers stopped as he realized that was exactly what they were doing. In fact, it was what Rhodes had been doing. And that gave him pause.

Synel was oblivious to his little revelation, continuing on as if nothing was wrong. “. . .If we move quickly, the trip will take around two weeks.” Synel gestured to the maps in front of her. “There looks to be one city and a few villages nearby. Assuming they’re still around, we may have to escort them along. That’s going to slow us down, but my concern is why they aren’t here already.”

Summers glanced her way. “Sorry, what?”

“We’re assuming a lot as it is, however, I was trying to think from the perspective of our ‘allies. The villages near us here. Your army knew of them, so at least a few here would know of this base, wouldn’t they?”

“Maybe.”

“Then why haven’t they come for help? Or protection?”

Summers considered that. “You saw how much of the army Wendel converted. They might think that’s who they’re fighting. Or they might just be wiped out.”

Synel hesitated.

“That. . . will make things more difficult, if that’s true.”

Summers gestured to the page. “How many are we looking at with all the areas nearby?”

“A little under two thousand. Keep in mind we’ll likely have to house a number of non-combatants. And they slow down our travel time considerably.”

“Right. . .” Summers looked over the base. That was one of the major advantages their enemy had on them, any literal body was a potential asset, while they’d be lucky if even a third of whoever they brought in could hold a gun properly. “Still, two weeks might be longer than we can afford.”

Summers eyed a broken piece of what was probably the wall once. The place was mostly rubble when they’d gotten here, if any kind of serious force came now, it didn’t take a tactical genius to see how that would turn out.

“Once we get the Humvees up and running, we’ll need to make sure everyone knows how to use them. Worst case, we take off and don’t look back.” Summers looked at Asle. She was torso deep into a pair of half stuffed pants. “Asle, you think you can teach everyone else to drive?”

Asle extracted herself from the pants, then quirked her head at him.

“Maybe?”

Summers noticed her shoulders tense. A clear sign she was bothered.

“What is it?” Summers asked.

“I want to help. Not fight, but. . . I want to do something. Maybe I can talk to the villages for you, my father knew people. They might know remember me.”

“Asle, name dropping your dad might help. Might. But I don’t think it’s enough to be worth risking it. If something like what happened earlier happens again, if someone tries to take you over, I’m not sure I’d be able to help in time.”

The anger and frustration on Asle’s face was suddenly replaced with something else.

Synel put a hand around Asle. “Come now. Find something you can do rather than forcing yourself through something you can’t. You’re smart enough to manage that.”

Asle paused a long moment, then nodded.

Summers put a hand on her head. “We’ll need your help down the line, for now, we need to figure out what that looks like.”

Synel smiled, pulling Asle in for a hug.

“And don’t put so much pressure on yourself,” Synel said. “You’re too young for gray hairs.”

Asle nodded absently.

Before she left, she promised to see everyone about learning to drive. Still, there was something off about her. Something like a sadness in her voice. Summers pushed it to the back of his mind as he continued his work.

Asle would just have to accept things as they were, for now.

After a few hours, they’d filled out the walls with a small army of scarecrows. Summers had tasked Pat with setting patrols every so often. Nearby, Synel was still working on the map, while the others were scrambling to get things ready for the trip.

Orvar was in the depot, trying to consolidate supplies. That mostly amounted to MRE’s and bullets, with a few exceptions Summers would handle himself. Everyone here had earned his trust, and he’d happily put his life in their hands. Explosives, however, were another story.

As he surveyed the area, it occurred to Summers that the Humvees were untouched from where he’d last left them.

“Hey, Orvar,” Summers called. “You see Asle? I sent her this way a while ago.”

Orvar stared blankly at Summers, before pointing towards the crater at the center of the base.

“She left.”

“. . .She went there?”

Orvar nodded.

“. . .Any idea why?” Summers asked.

Orvar shrugged.

Summers took in the crater that once housed the “anchor”. He’d left a pretty sizeable hole in the ground after detonating the missiles the colonel had set up. He’d ensured the anchor wasn’t more than charred scrap now, but the room itself was a maze of debris and melted steel. Summers had barely managed to get a look inside.

Of course, someone like Asle might be able to squeeze in. But besides the anchor, the only other thing in there was a burnt red smear where Wendel used to be.

Summers froze, then turned to Orvar.

“Get the others, now!”

Asle rubbed at a sore side, it had been hard squeezing into the bunker, but with a little work she’d managed to widen a hole enough to slip through safely.

To her surprise, the room hadn’t been completely dark. Pinpricks of red in the ceiling bathed the room in an odd light. She’d picked across the debris of twisted metal and melted rock, looking for her target. It took some time, but she eventually did find something. On a wall, embedded nearly to her forearm, was the upper body of a man. It was blackened, the skin coming off in flakes, but it was undeniably a person. There was only one such person in this room when it exploded.

Wendel, the man she knew to be responsible for everything that had happened to her over the past few months.

Summers had said she didn’t need to be useful, that she didn’t need to help. That was probably true, he was that kind of person. But now that they knew what was at stake, she couldn’t just do nothing.

Asle steeled her nerves, leaning over the corpse and its shattered head. No matter what they said, she knew what was coming. They needed power, any that they could get. She’d already lost everything once, not again. She refused to be a burden to her friends, not after coming this far. Not after coming back. She was here to help them. No matter what this cost her, it would be worth it.

It was a few hours later that Summers got to her, alone, still focused on the body, hands and face covered in sticky, black blood.

He slowed as he approached.

“. . .Tell me you didn’t.”

“She bit me!” Summers yelled.

Asle stared up at him, defiant. Synel moved between the two.

“Then don’t stick your hand in her face.” She leaned in. “Her eyes seem normal,” Synel couldn’t hide the tension in her voice.

“I was trying to make her throw up.” Summers protested. Summers considered the two before pressing a hand against Asle’s head. She winced as a ribbon of smoke floated out.

Summers relaxed. “I don’t feel anything in her head.”

“I feel fine,” Asle slapped at his hand.

“You ate a guy’s brain!”

“And I feel fine,” Asle repeated. “And that was the only part left.”

They were resting near the depot while everyone stared at Asle. The hamr had always felt weak when he’d checked her, but time would tell if that changed.

He checked her over one more time before he sat down, head in his hands.

“It’s probably too late now anyway. Nothing we can do but wait and see.” He let his hands fall.

Asle glanced between Summers and Synel, both looking at her with open concern. She stared back, a touch of defiance on her face.

“I understand why you did what you did,” Synel began. “But I wish you’d have told us first. Instead of risking your life pointlessly.”

“You wouldn’t have let me,” Asle responded. “And if I can do what that man did, then I can help us win instead of running away.”

Summers stood, looking down at her.

“You don’t know what could have happened. Hell, you could have wiped half your brain.” Summers gestured to himself. “You don’t want that to happen. Christ, we talked about this.”

“It’s happening whether I want it to or not!” She pointed to the center of the base. “No matter what I do, no matter how safe I am it would still happen!”

Summers paused at that. Right now, they could slow the hamr, not stop it. Even in Wendel’s case, with the full backing of the US army at his back, he’d only lasted so long. Out here, like this, their lives would be measured in months. Eventually, they’d both have to deal with that. Something she’d apparently accepted.

Summers looked the girl over.

“Do you feel different?”

Asle raised a hand, inspecting it. For a moment she tensed, as if trying to concentrate, but nothing happened. “. . .No.”

Summers considered that. Maybe the body was too degraded, or too damaged from the blast. The guy’s brain was probably a slushie after taking a missile to the face. It was worthless to speculate. All of this was one big unknown.

“Commander,” Pat called over. “The ‘Humvee’ is broken.”

And it just kept getting better.

Summers turned, trying to keep the annoyance off his face. They’d been loading up one of the Humvees the army had left behind, one of the few he’d seen with the intimidating cannons. That cannon wasn’t the point, those vehicles just tended to have a lot more armor to counter the extra weight. The idea was that they would be going out with some of the best hardware the base had, so he’d asked Pat to give it a once over.

“What’s the problem?” Summers walked over to Pat, peering in through the passenger side door.

“I did just as you instructed, the machine does nothing.”

Pat slid over as Summers moved up beside him, to his credit the man had done everything right. For some reason or another, the Humvee just didn’t work.

“Of fucking course.” Summers looked the vehicle over, if there was something wrong, he couldn’t tell what it was.

Some part of him couldn’t help but remind him that, if Cortez were here, she’d be able to fix the engine no problem. Hell, Nowak would probably have thought about checking the goddamn equipment before they made plans around it. Only Summers’ stupid ass would make a mistake like that.

Summers closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down and leave the self-loathing for later. “All right, we’ll have to rethink a few things. What other options do we have?”

As they started to talk about their options, Asle leaned in, turned the ignition knob, and waited, listening.

“It’s out of gas,” Asle said.

Summers stopped, then glanced at the Humvee, Asle, and a large tank labeled “flammable” nearby.

Asle hopped down, looking about as openly smug as you could manage without an expression.

Summers leaned against the Humvee, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Asle looked up, quirking her head.

“What is it?”

“I’m seriously considering bringing you with us.” He paused. “Not because I want you to. If you start getting dreams like I did, or some even crazier shit happens, then I’m the only one that’s going to be able to help you.” Summers looked at her, annoyed. “Because, again, you ate a guy.” Summers let out a long breath. “Synel, what do you think?”

Synel circled Asle, hand to her chin.

“I think my apprentice is a fool.” She sat in the Humvee. “But fine. Sell me on it.”

“What?” Asle asked.

“You heard me, give me a reason that he should care about your wellbeing if you don’t. That is, after all, the only reason to bring you along.”

Asle started to say something in return but stopped.

“Exactly,” Synel said. She turned to Summers. “I agree, it’s best to keep an eye on her before she does something even more idiotic.”

“. . .I’m sorry.” Asle spoke in a low voice.

Summers rubbed his head. “All right, fine. We’ll figure it out as we go. Just please, no more stupid plans.”

“You do stupid things too,” Asle half mumbled.

“No,” Summers began. “I do stupid shit in the moment because it’s all my brain can come up with. You want to help us win? Then be smarter than me.”

A long night later, most of it spent making sure Asle didn’t grow a second head, Summers, Asle, and Synel were on the road while the other four held down the fort in the most literal sense. He hadn’t liked the idea of splitting the group, but a few extra bodies weren’t going to help if they ran into real trouble. The hope was they’d be able to keep the bluff back at the base going long enough to bring some reinforcements.

Along the way, Summers had been trying to show Synel how to drive the Humvee, now loaded with everything they could strap to it. If they ran into trouble, there was a good chance Summers would have to shoot it. That meant having his hands free and enough space to aim. However, they’d met with mixed results.

Synel tended to treat the Humvee like one would a wild animal. That is, with a white knuckled grip and barely concealed terror. Asle, being the only other person on this planet with actual experience in a Humvee, was surprisingly knowledgeable. She’d been able to help the woman along, but she was too short to reach the pedals on her own, which headed off that problem early enough.

“What about this?” Asle asked, pointing to the hatch leading to the turret at the center of the Humvee, one Summers had left open.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Summer replied.

The turret, if it could be called that, was something Summers had been curious about, but hadn’t wanted to test in the base. Mostly out of fear that it would backfire or break. He hadn’t found any way to reload it, or anything that resembled ammunition. Which was terrifying in its own right.

“Why not?” Asle craned her head back. “It’s not like I’m doing anything else.”

“I am not putting a cannon in the hands of a child. Why is this a question?”

“There are some very large beasts in this area.” Synel suggested. “And an army.”

“I don’t even know how to use that thing.” Summers protested.

“Then she’s just as qualified as you.”

Summers closed his eyes, counted to ten, then took a second look back. The entire vehicle was armored more heavily than he ever would have expected, clearly customized for the kind of trouble this world could throw at a person. The turret itself was the most hardened area, with only a small screen to aim with. Seeing the extra protection the turret could offer, Summers thought it might be the safest place for the girl.

“Fine,” Summers relented. “You can sit there, but don’t touch anything until we get a chance to figure it out.”

Asle smiled brightly before scrambling up into the turret.

A moment later she called down.

“It looks like a normal gun.”

Summers looked back, then after a moment crawled towards the turret. Asle glanced down at him, then pointed to a long metal trigger attached to a plastic handle.

“That fires, right?”

Summers angled himself into the turret while Asle pressed herself back.

“Stop for a second, if you can.”

Synel slowed the Humvee to a stop. Summers looked through the monitor in front of the Humvee, ensuring there was nothing around, then pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He pulled it a few more times just to be sure.

“Of course it wouldn’t be that simple,” Summers commented, mostly to himself. He’d been in the army long enough that he’d come to expect equipment like this to break more often than not. “We’ll look at it later. Just keep your hands to yourself in the meantime, all right?”

Asle nodded as Summers crawled back to his seat.

BOOM!

There was no flash, just noise as the Humvee lurched back, and the rock formation in front of them exploded into a fountain of stone shards and dust.

They all stared at the damage before Asle’s voice broke the quiet.

“. . .You have to hold it down.”

It was around noon the next day that the group ran into something they weren’t expecting. A slaughter.

“Jesus.” Summers murmured.

The ground was pockmarked with the same spherical holes they’d come to expect around the base, every so often they’d see the remnants of twisted metal half fused into the ground. What they hadn’t expected to find was a field of corpses. Elf corpses.

“Go slow,” Summers instructed. “Try and skirt the outside, I don’t want to run into any trouble if we can avoid it.”

Summers readied his rifle, he’d already had more than one experience with bodies standing back up when they really shouldn’t.

But as they made their way through what was obviously the tail end of a battle, it occurred to him that not all the bodies on the ground were elves. Some were more of the black-eyed soldiers he’d come to associate with Wendel’s people.

Considering what he’d seen of the enemy involved them using said corpses, that meant that these people somehow won. Or at least taken their enemy down with them. Even if the numbers of elves were around ten times the soldiers, it was impressive.

Then one of the corpses near the Humvee twitched. Summers raised his gun, only to stop a moment later. It was a young boy, probably fourteen or fifteen. He was gripping a spear in one ruined hand, something like a wolf’s skull over his forehead.

They stopped as Summers hopped out. A few of the black-eyed soldiers lay on top of the boy, a tangle of limbs and blood.

Summers tensed, if the kid was infected. . .

Then, wide, blue eyes locked onto Summers own, and he lowered his gun.

“Asle, where’s the first aid kit?”