The enormous human sat at the other end of the bench seat, his eyes alert and watching Faera closely. He held the gun pointing away from her and Bee, resting his back against the door of the truck. Faera hadn’t noticed when he’d been slumped between his comrades, but he was massive, a solid four inches taller than his friends--which was saying something, because his friends were rather large, especially when compared to the average malnourished modern human.

Compared to those, the man across from her was a giant. He was folded as comfortably as he could have been, but the man’s knees approached his chest to make room for Bee and Faera. He was broad, too. With one heavily muscled arm, he’d flung her from her seat in the car.

And instead of just shooting her, he’d tried to read her her rights. “You have the right to an attorney…” he’d begun after she’d climbed back into the cab, astonishing Faera. The man truly believed he was some kind of twenty-first century law enforcement. His monologue perfectly matched her memory of reruns of crime dramas from that era.

“Can I ask a question?” Faera asked.

“Apparently,” the man with the gun said, glaring at her with his bright green eyes.

“What’s your jurisdiction?” Faera asked, deciding to take a careful approach. “Who do you work for?”

“Rapid Response teams are under the command of the United States government, dispatched to aid local police with special situations stemming from the Gates,” he said. “And before you ask, yes, we have the power to make arrests.”

Faera glanced at the big human in the passenger seat. “How old are you?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“Where did you come from?” she said.

“That’s classified.”

Faera sighed and rolled her eyes. “What’s your name?”

“S four M,” Sam said. “You can call me officer.”

“Look,” Faera said, “I’m sorry I… killed your friend. I thought you were trying to kill us.”

“Doesn’t change what you did,” S4M said, his gaze tracing her her sharp ears and large blue eyes before glancing at the girl.

“She your daughter?”

“No, officer, she’s not.”

“Huh. I don’t make the final decisions,” the giant said. “I’m sure the judge will consider any extenuating circumstances.”

Faera glanced at him for just a moment, her brows furrowed, before she turned her eyes back to the road. “I don’t mean to alarm the guy with the gun,” she said, swerving around a pit in the dirt road. “But the world might be a lot different than you think it is.”

“How so?” S4M asked.

“Let’s just say that the United States didn’t really survive past twenty-one thirty.”

The giant sat there with furrowed brows, chewing on that information. Long minutes went by as the three of them travelled down the bumpy road.

“It doesn’t matter,” he decided, his gaze fixed on her. “I’ll turn you in to local law enforcement.”

“Suit yourself,” Faera said. They were driving toward the first bastion of Elvenkind, First Word. The idea of receiving any kind of punishment for killing a human on their land, especially one that’d been armed to the teeth, was laughable.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Why, officer?” Faera asked.

“So that I know how to refer to you in my report,” he said.

Faera broke out laughing, and both of the other people in the truck watched her with concern. “Now I know you’re not faking it,” she said. “Only the real thing would do paperwork.”

While he was processing her words, she answered. “My name’s Faera.”

The woods parted before them, and tall grasses swished by on either side as the fey-looking woman guided the truck along the road. Lights twinkled in the distance, disappearing as they approached a dark object too tall and long to be anything but man-made. The headlights revealed a smooth stone wall that looked like poured concrete at first glance.

Faera drove right up to a massive wooden gate and began honking. A moment later, the gate swung open, revealing that the wall was about twenty feet deep, with another gate at the other end. They pulled in, and the gate closed behind them, leaving them sandwiched between the two.

A man stepped out of a gatehouse built into the wall and peered into the truck. Faera was about to open her mouth when the giant spoke.

“Good evening, sir. Could you bring a representative of local law enforcement? This women is a suspect under my custody.”

The man at the gate stopped with his eyes wide and his mouth open. He glanced at Sam, taking in his appearance, and then at Faera. Faera nodded, and he ran off.

“That man had gene cosmetics for his ears too, didn’t he?” he asked. “I can hardly believe we’d run into your brother at the gate.”

Faera shook her head. “He’s not my brother, and it’s not gene cosmetics.”

The giant glanced after the man who had only left at Faera’s nod, and who looked suspiciously like her. “You didn’t bring me to some kind of cult, did you?”

“What would you do if I had?” she asked, brow arched. “Take me and the girl hostage?”

S4M bristled in his seat. “If they tried to attack me, I’d kill them.”

Faera whistled. There were at least fifteen thousand people in First Word, and this ‘S-four-M’ character looked like he thought he could take them all.

“Tell you what,” Faera said. “Since you didn’t actually hurt anyone, I’ll ask them not to kill you.”

S4M shifted in his seat and leveled his gun at Faera. “What did you say?” The tension hung between them like a lead weight , until Bee started crying.

“What’s going on here?” asked an authoritative voice. A man wearing a badge of office stepped from the gatehouse. “Why the hell did I get woken up in the middle of the night by a panicky boy about a hum--” The man’s voice stopped when he came along the passenger side window and caught sight of the giant human in the truck.

He cautiously stepped out of the truck, balancing on his good leg, wobbling a bit. He must have lost more blood than Faera had thought.

“Sir,” he said, “I’ve arrested this woman for the murder of my partner and attempted escape . I’m aware that this may be outside my jurisdiction, and intend to seek justice by cooperating with local law enforcement .”

The man, whose pointing ears held his mane of hair in check, sized Sam up. “Did she do that?” he asked, pointing at S4M’s splinted leg.

“No sir,” he said. “That was a giant ant. She shot and killed my subordinate before we were able to take her gun from her.”

“We? Are you saying there are more of you?” the sheriff asked, the light of the floodlights above them brightening his dark brown leather vest.

“Yes sir, one more,” S4M said. “However, she was left in a violent state of mind after the loss of her partner. I’d like to return to the scene of the crime to pick her up in person tomorrow, after she’s had time to cool down.”

The sheriff thumbed his chin for a moment. “Alright, I can tell you aren’t lying,” the man said. “Alpha, Juno, take her to the jail and get her story. Find a place to house the little one, as well.”

Faera’s grin died when two soldiers stepped out and pulled her from the car, carrying her by the arms toward the gate. “Wait, I’m a ranger!” she said. “I’ve come from Easthold! I have to speak to the Mayor!” Faera’s shouts echoed through the night as she was escorted toward the gate.

“As for you,” she heard the sheriff say, “you look like you could use some rest.” He raised his hand. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” out of the corner of her eye, she saw the giant topple to the ground.

The mayor escorted Faera down the hall to his office. “Sorry about that, Faera,” Mayor Gunderson said. “I figured it would be the best way to keep him calm. Care to explain what you were doing in Derrick Fall’s truck, with his daughter and an improbably well-armed human?”

Faera took a deep breath, taking in the scent of books and stationary mixed with the rich wood from the furniture. Then she told her story.

The mayor’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as she described the attack. “So you’re telling me the humans reinvented artillery and jeeps, but not guns?” he asked, a sneer on his face.

“Yes sir,” Faera said. “In addition, the village of Gentle Nights is all dead . You can ask the little girl about that.” Faera could tell the mayor wasn’t taking the news well, but she had no choice but to tell the truth.

“And the human you brought with you, with the smartgun and the implant in his brain--what was his role in all this?”

Faera shrugged. “Pretty much what he said. A team of three relics from before the fall of man walked out onto the road, and I shot one of them.”

“Without determining whether they were hostile?” the mayor asked.

“They were human,” Faera said. “Who wouldn’t have believed them to be hostile?”

The mayor rubbed his head. “You know what my problem is?” he asked, eyeing her. “My problem is when people come to me with such obvious bullshit stories, but just enough evidence to pressure me to launch an investigation, wasting time and money.”

“East Mountain is under siege!” Faera said, leaning forward. “The humans were well armed and organized. They only have enough food to last a week in the shelter, and the humans are probably peeling that steel door off its hinges as we speak! We need reinforcements now!”

“Well, let me just pull those out of my ass ,” the mayor responded bitingly. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to send a team to check out your story about Gentle Nights.” He held up a hand, forestalling her. “And if you’re telling the truth, we’ll send a squad with small arms to mop up your… human problem.”

“That’s not enough,” Faera insisted. “There were hundreds of them, they have fucking Jeeps!”

“I find myself doubtful,” the mayor said, folding his hands. “Humans have been throwing sticks until about fifty years ago, by the reports. Are you sure you didn’t just see catapults and wagons?”

“Yes!” Faera shouted.

The mayor rolled his eyes. “Escort Miss Faera out. There’s room for her in the local jail until we get this mess sorted out. I’m going back to sleep.”

Strong hands grasped Faera by the arms and began pulling her down the hall. She didn’t go quietly.

#

Sam opened his eyes and found himself on a cot . Sam’s first thought was of Tom, and a wave of nausea swept over him. Had he been doing the right thing, not killing Faera, or had he simply been following his conditioning? It had been so difficult not to riddle her with bullets when his anger had made it feel like the right thing to do. Had her daughter not been there, Sam was pretty sure he wouldn’t have stopped Ann.

Sam swung his feet to the floor as he glanced around the room. He was in a cage of iron bars set into the ceiling. The rear wall appeared solid, and was painted a light puke green. His room was joined at the walls by two other holding cells, and there were three more across the hall.

In the cell across the way, he spotted Faera, desperately sawing at the bars.

“Good morning,” Sam said. He rose, gingerly tapped his left foot against the floor, and felt no pain. It seemed as though they had fixed his leg, which was a good sign. He crossed to the bars, and leaned against them, watching Faera work.

“It’s afternoon,” Faera muttered, not taking her focus away from where she sawed at the bar.

“And what are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Escaping, obviously,” she replied.

“Good luck with that.” Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, put his hand on the cell door, and pushed. The iron-barred door swung free, and Sam walked out into the hall. Faera watched him, her jaw hanging as he passed.

“Wait,” Faera called, but Sam kept walking, ignoring her pleas.

“Guess this was the only place that had a free bed,” Sam mused as he walked down the hall. “Must not have a hospital.” Still, Sam thought as he glanced down at his fixed leg, for not having a hospital, they did a damn good job.

The team had broken bones time and again, both before and after the technicians disappeared. Once they were gone, healing took months.

Sam kneeled down and rolled up his pantleg. A pale pink scar crossed his calf where the ant had grabbed him. Healed, in less than a day.

These people must have some technicians on staff.

Sam stopped at an iron gate, where a rough-looking man with pointed ears stood guard. He looked about fifty pounds lighter than Sam, and he glared up at him with a steely gaze.

“Step back,” the guard ordered.

Sam stepped back. With a clunk, the iron gate swung inward, nearly brushing his nose.

The heavily-muscled man limped to his desk and sat down before selecting a file. “Says here,” he said, reading, “that your weapons are no longer legal for law enforcement, and so you’ll be provided with new gear at no expense. Assuming you still want to do police work?”

Sam twitched, a little uncomfortable at losing his guns, but calmed quickly after imagining a less-than-lethal alternative with the same stopping power. “I was made for it,” Sam said, standing straight.

“So I’ve heard,” the man said drily. He pulled out a heavy tome and dropped it on the desk. “You’re going to need to read this. It’s a primer on modern law, required reading.”

Sam nodded and picked up the book, then paused. “Does the United States still exist?”

“Nope,” the man said, waving Sam away. “You want a history lesson, visit the library. Your exit’s that door there, it’ll be a long tunnel, and a guy will have your gear at the end.”

Tucking the book under his arm, Sam headed through the door. When the man had said ‘long’, he hadn’t been kidding--two hundred yards at least.

At the far end stood a slender man and a table. Behind him was an iron gate with nearly blinding sunlight streaming through. On the table was a collection of long steel and wooden objects.

My gear? “What, umm,” Sam said, turning a ridiculously oversized knife over in his hand. “What is this?”

“Your weapons,” the slender man said cheerily.

“But what is this?” Sam asked, pointing to the rusty blade.

“Umm…” the man said, tilting his head in confusion. “A longsword?”

Sam pointed to the next one and raised his brows.

“Oh, that’s a mace, and a glaive, morning star, shield…” The man continued, pointing out weapons.

Sam’s stomach sank. He couldn’t imagine these to be nonlethal, not to mention they were nowhere near as good as his guns. The comparison in range--pfah!

Matter of fact, most of them were rusted. Sam lifted a steel ball attached to a long wooden handle. The entire thing was about six feet long, putting it at about chin level with Sam . It looked like it could be used to subdue people without unnecessary injury, as it had no blades or points.

“Good choice,” the man said, ducking to reach beneath the table. “Your body armor is here.” He opened a wooden chest and came back up with Sam’s bulletproof vest.

Sam shrugged into the vest, then regarded the man. “Do you have any communication devices? Two-way radios?” he asked.

The man shook his head.

Sam sighed. He supposed there was no helping it. He’d just have to make the best of the situation. Being above ground was already a dream fulfilled. Talking to people other than Tom and Ann tingled his every nerve with excitement.

Thinking of Tom brought his mood down again. The perpetrator was in jail now, but he still felt like garbage for leading Tom to his death. Sam blew out a breath and squared his shoulders. He just needed to stay busy until he could process Tom’s death.

Unless Ann tried to get him back . Sam cocked his head to the side in thought. What was the range on the transmitters in their brains ?

Sam began to brighten . Maybe he and Ann could exterminate the ant colony with some heavier-than-air poison or possibly even go back into the facility from the ground level entrance. It was food for thought. In any case, he got the feeling he would see Tom again.

Sam lowered the iron ball to the ground, using the heavy weapon as a walking stick. “I’ll be good with this. Can you tell me the way to the sheriff’s office? I have to retrieve a friend of mine from the woods.”

“Umm….” The man at the gate shifted in his seat. “Just, um, take a left after you get out of the gate and look for the sign.”

“Thanks,” Sam said.

The man nodded and heaved on a lever, opening the gate with a rattle.

Sam moved forward, squinting against the brightness, and heard the murmur of a crowd. The sound of people intensified as Sam stepped out into the glaring light. He’d expected a street, cobbles, but the surface beneath his feet was yellow sand.

The gate slammed shut behind him, and Sam’s eyes began to adjust. He wasn’t on a street at all. He stood on the edge of a massive circle of sand, surrounded by fifteen foot walls. Atop the walls were row after row of stone steps, with thousands of people seated on them. Every eye in the stands was turned on him.

This can’t be good.

“Now presenting, for your entertainment, the scourge of yesteryear!” a man’s voice boomed above the crowd. “The face of fear for so many of us, a monster in the skin of a man, programmed to kill without remorse. Mothers, if your children shy at the sight of blood, cover their eyes! For we have to fight in the colosseum today, a commanding officer of the Rapid Response Teams!”

“Goddamnit,” Sam said, quoting one of the technicians as he tossed the law book aside into the sand.

A massive image sprang up in the center of the colosseum, a hologram of a towering man in full combat gear. A quick collage of scenes showed the figure rounding up and executing people with pointed ears. The video was paused just as the man glanced at the camera, and sure enough, Sam’s face was glaring back at him.

“Goddamnit!” Sam’s voice was lost in an ocean of boos. He swung the mace onto his shoulder, testing the heft of the weapon. It wasn’t his fucking fault they downloaded his skills into hundreds of clones and then… ordered him to kill these people… was it?

“This monster deserves no easy death,” the voice continued. “And while it would be a simple matter to unleash a demon to tear this S4M unit asunder, it would simply be over too quick, without impressing upon the young ones what a threat this murderous brute truly was.”

In the pause, Sam spotted the announcer on a special box on the upper stands. “No, dear viewer, we are going to start small,” the man dressed in gaudy, eye-catching robes promised. “We are going to make a week of it, and see where this monster stands among others of its kind!” The orator held his hands up for applause, then lowered them slowly. “Worry not, if this… abomination fails to last until the finale, our good master Theold will battle the final beast for your pleasure. It’s sure to be a show!”

At Theold’s name, a cheer rang out through the crowd.

“Starting to think Ann had the right idea,” Sam said, scowling.

“Well then, there’s only one thing left to do,” the orator said. “And that is to announce our heinous monster’s first trial!”

The gate across the arena from Sam rattled as the heavy doors swung slowly outward.

Sam started to run, sprinting at full speed toward the widening gap.

“Bred in the swamps around the Gate of Entropy,” the orator began, “this beast will… eh?”

The crowd gasped as Sam leapt through the gate and slammed the mace down on the chitinous horror. Picture the product of several generations of giant ant breeding in a radioactive pond. Its pincers looked as though they could sever bone with ease, and horrific mandibles covered a gaping maw that appeared to have its own fingers.

Unfortunately for the monster, its handlers had yet to free it from its restraints, and Sam’s repeated bashes crushed whatever passed for a nerve center. The creature slumped to the ground.

“And, umm, that’s why the S4M model was so feared, ladies and gentlemen. It matched intellect with unbridled bloodlust… Can we get security to the monster pen, please?”

One of the handlers went for his gun and Sam smote him with the mace. He slammed up against the wall before collapsing in a heap.

The other handler, covered in monster blood, took one look at Sam and ran out onto the sand. Gasps of horror filled the stadium as the blood-soaked man tripped and fell in the center of the arena.

Sam leaned down and tested the first man’s pulse before he snagged the gun, a simple six-shot revolver that had clattered to the floor. Glancing up, Sam saw that his exit was gated off by thick iron bars.

Whistling, he strode up to the thick bars and hefted the mace. With one powerful swing, he bent one bar to the left. His second swing bent the next bar to the right, allowing him to slide through.

As Sam strolled through the tunnel, three guards jumped out into the tunnel. Sam shot them. He stepped out of the way long enough for them to realize they’d been gut-shot, before continuing on his way.

“As long as you get medical attention immediately, you should live,” Sam said, clapping one trembling man on the shoulder as he took his gun. Luckily, the coliseum issued the same arms to their staff, and Sam was left with two pistols and twenty-one bullets.

He tucked the second pistol away in his vest and tapped down the hall with his trusty iron-topped stick. Sam had to admit, it had worked nicely. Maybe he’d keep it.

At the end of the hall, Sam entered an enormous room filled with cages. Howls and rattling sounded, making Sam’s eyes widen. The raging occupants included giant snakes, lizards, insects, and many more he couldn’t recognize. One particular monster caught his attention, a creature shaped like a brain with short stubby legs and long, fanged tentacles.

Sam’s feet moved, bringing him to stand in front of it. The thing was about the size of a horse. It was disgusting, really; the entire creature dripped mucus, and whatever passed for its mouth flapped open and closed as it breathed noisily. Needing to get closer, he put one foot on the lip of the wheeled cage and stepped up.

The slowly undulating tentacles struck like snakes, wrapping themselves around Sam’s arms. The loosely flapping mouth peeled away, revealing rows of serrated teeth even as the fangs of the tentacles bit down into his arms.

A jolt of fear ran through Sam and he squeezed the trigger of his pistol reflexively. The monster shrieked and yanked Sam against the bars.

The fog cleared. He tilted the barrel of the gun down and unloaded the rest of the bullets straight into the pulsating brain. Tentacles began to whip around frantically, and Sam was spat from the cage like a fruit pit.

Sam sat up, groaning, his arms bleeding from the shallow wounds on his arms. He took another look at the brain-thing, but looked away when he felt himself wanting to approach it again.

“You’re lucky, human,” came a bass rumble from Sam’s left.

Sam glanced to the side and spotted a towering man with a horned wolf’s head. He stood eleven feet tall, dwarfing Sam by comparison. His upper body was covered in gray fur, and his lower body was naked, with powerful muscles the size of Sam’s entire arm corded throughout.

“And you are?” Sam asked.

“A fragment of the Devouring Beast, Kein’Maddal,” the monster said, throwing its shoulders back.

“Cool,” Sam said. He moved toward the exit.

A roar filled the room, rattling Sam’s breastbone. “I can forgive your ignorance, mortal, but do not slight me by turning your back.”

Sam turned to face the monster.

“I am being held by these lesser beings for their entertainment,” it said. “I find the situation unacceptable. Free me, and I will aide thine escape from this place.”

Curious, Sam approached. “It says on this sign in front of your cage not to accept any deals from you, not to say your name three times, or break the iron circle built into your cage,” Sam said, examining the iron ring it stood inside.

“Of course they wouldn’t want me out. It’s not in their interest,” the demon said. “But that sign doesn’t apply to you, does it, human?” It stomped, pacing in its tiny cell.

“Says here that you tore the last guy who opened your cage to bloody pieces,” Sam said.

“Lies!” roared the demon.

“Well, I’m not one to gamble with those kinds of odds,” Sam said, turning away. “Good luck fighting the old guy."

“It’s Theold,” a commanding voice said from the opposite end of the room. The assembled monsters fell silent in a near-palpable wave that pushed out from the man with the salt-and-pepper hair. He wore a simple red robe that fluttered as though in a light breeze, six inches above the floor. He was tall, almost as tall as Sam, and his ears were distinctly pointed.

“I’ve been wondering,” Sam said, pointing at Theold. “Do all people have pointy ears nowadays?”

Theold squinted, regarding Sam with a penetrating stare. “You really don’t know what’s going on, do you?”

“Not really,” Sam said with a shrug .

“I was hunted by one of you once, you know,” the man said. He pulled aside the collar of his shirt, revealing a puckered bullet wound below his breastbone, near the heart. “Five hundred and thirty-five years ago.”

Sam whistled. “Damn.”

Theold lowered his gnarled hands as he regarded Sam. “You’re a little different from the ones I’ve met before. It’s a shame to kill one that feels as clean as you. Perhaps you haven’t been given any additional programming. Factory settings, as it were.”

“I’m still trying to get my head around the fact that I apparently both never left the facility and at the same time committed genocide,” Sam said. “And that you’re over five hundred years old. That I’m over five hundred years old. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Indeed,” the man said. The sound of rushing footsteps approached. “The time for talk grows short.”

“Yup,” Sam agreed, dropping the spent revolver and drawing the spare.

“Sleep,” Theold said, with a wave of his hand.

Sam toppled to the floor.