An unseasonal chill had dropped the temperature overnight and the early morning sky hung heavy with low, thick clouds illuminated by the shifting colours of the aurora. Breakfast was a bowl of hot oatmeal and toasted bread without butter. Butter was another thing that was going to be in short supply for the foreseeable future, which makes me sad. Coffee, bacon, butter, donuts… the list of small pleasures is endless.

“We’ll pass through on our way back,” I promised Gideon after breakfast, cinching the saddle tight on Sparky and double-checking all my gear was secure. I had made a pass earlier through the gathered members looking for black motes like Mike and the boys had, but found none. One less worry on my mind, and one more warning for Gideron. “Keep an eye on everyone for changes in personality. Not sure how long it’ll take, but if I’m not back in a week, well, I’m probably never coming back. ”

Gideon gave a half-chuckle at that. “I can’t even imagine what it would take to put you down.”

“It’s easier than you think,” I said, recalling the exquisite agony of having an arrow punch through my lung.

Pulling myself into the saddle, I addressed the Gifted who had gathered to see me off. “Take care of your people and remember what I said: I’m pretty sure that absorbing too much mana at once is lethal. Since food is going to be a priority for the foreseeable future, learn to selectively drain the corpses and save the cores. I have no idea what they’re good for, but if nothing else they’ll be useful as money. And for god’s sake don’t fuck up your water supply, cholera is a horrible way to die.”

We exchanged a few more well-wishes before I dimmed my spark and directed the horses back to the asphalt road to continue my journey.

Hwy 445 ran south into Hwy 22 and we turned west towards Hammond, Sassy ranging ahead until the woods suddenly stopped and turned into an ash covered wasteland. Miles and miles of destruction as far as the eye could see, leaking motes into the air. We dodged around debris, the burnt wrecks of uncountable vehicles, and the remains of a commercial airliner that had crashed presumably on its way to New Orleans. There were no survivors to be seen anywhere and the further we travelled, the lower my heart sank. The monkey-brain shivered in a corner of my mind, too terrified of my mood to make a snarky remark.

It was hard to tell where I was with most of the buildings gone or lying in ruins. Hwy 22 turned into East Pine Street and I kept an eye out for 5th street where I’d turn south to the ex-wife’s house. A fluttering strip tied to a street sign caught my eye. Directing the horses up to it, I saw that the dirty cloth had three knots tied in it. Scratched across the sign were two words that caused me to kick the horses into a fast trot. Go Gramps.

Astrid was alive. She’s alive and she went to her grandfather’s in Albany less than 15 miles away. Two hours at a fast trot.

A chill north wind scattered dust and ashes into the air, causing me to tie the bandanna across my face once more and dig out my sunglasses. Everywhere I looked new growth was pushing through the ashes and asphalt; saplings, grass, and other foliage was emerging from the fire-ravaged ground to compete for the light. If things kept growing at this pace, the entire area would be a wilderness in a month. Or less.

Crossing a field to I-55, we pushed hard towards I-12. As we travelled I could see life struggling to reassert itself under the baleful gaze of Methuselah’s star. A long vine lashed out as Sparky passed, causing me to instinctively slap it with a psychic tentacle. The green appendage curled back, then made an attempt for Miguel. Another slap sent it scurrying away to coil and rustle around what looked like a small cactus[1] with a bright green aura in the centre of the median.

Even the flora is becoming aggressive.

We turned onto I-12 an hour later, followed by a pack of yapping, slathering Leaping Arseholes[2]. I nailed a couple to the ground before we left the pack behind. I hated the little bug-eyed freaks before the apocalypse, and now I really had a reason to hate them. The vision of bug-eyed shits with oversized mouths full of sharp teeth and the ability to leap twenty feet will terrorise my dreams until the day I die.

Allowing the horses to slow to a walk several miles later, I guided them off the interstate and up Hwy-43. We passed through the devastated area and trees once more became abundant, like nothing had ever happened.

As we passed by the Kamolot Supermarket, I spotted several people dragging away carts full of canned goods, guarded by an archer and a half dozen men with a plethora of simple weapons. None had a head spark, just heart sparks flickering in a dozen different colours.

The procession came to a halt as I trotted up behind them on Sparky, the cart pushers kept going while the guards strung themselves across the road blocking my passage. Their auras were swirls of dark and bright orange, curiosity and suspicion of the stranger before them. I was just a few miles away from my goal, less than an hour from Astrid, and I’m certain these folk would have some news of their neighbours. Maybe. Albany was a small town on the outskirts of Hammond, but much more spread out than gossipy Plainview.

One the guards yelled “Monster!” as Sassy emerged from behind Miguel and trotted up next to me. The bowman was hella fast, pulling and firing before I had fully registered that they were talking about Sassy. Swatting at the arrow with an invisible tentacle, I slapped it to the side where it went clattering down the asphalt road. Mentally directing Sassy to fall back behind the horses, I addressed the men before me. “First one’s free. The next one will cost you. Please don’t shoot my cat,” I said.

“That’s your cat?” One of the men asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

“Yup,” I answered. “So please don’t poke holes in her. I’m heading up to the Fontaine place to fetch my daughter. You have any news?”

They looked at one another hesitantly before one spoke up. “Richard Fontaine?” He asked. “The guy that does lawnmower repair?”

“The very same,” I said. “Ol Dick’s my ex-father in law”

“He’s at the school with everyone else,”

“Thanks for the info,” I said, touching the brim of my hat. “I’ll be easing up there to meet him.”

“I’m not sure your cat will be welcome,” One of the men said. He was dressed in relatively clean clothes, but was wearing something that looked like a bullet-proof vest. All of them were, now that I was paying attention.

My monkey-brain screeched at me to hurry along, to find Astrid and get moving towards the boys. I pushed him back up his tree and explained that my next actions were necessary. I had a feeling in my gut that my next actins would be meaningful.

“My cat is a …bonded companion,” I said, slipping down from the saddle and sending a mental twitch for Sassy to join me. We stopped half way between the guards who were looking a bit twitchy at this point. Kneeling down, I started giving her scritches, causing her tail to stand at attention.

“Anyone brave enough to pet the kitty?” I asked.

One by one they approached, then gave in to the adorableness of my companion, showering her with affection.

“She’s a tamed beast,” I said, watching as they examined her in closely. “A bonded companion. She’s smart and friendly, but others like her will be wild.”

“S’ssy Sm’rt!” Sassy chirped, causing the men to flinch back. “S’ssy T’lk! S’ssy G’grrl!”

I wrapped her in a hug. “You are a good girl,” I cooed in her ear, then stood to address the men before me. Boys, really. I doubt that any of them were more than thirty, but with the Aurora it was hard to tell any more. “Things are different now. Don’t kill things just because they look different, because some can be very useful.”

“What’s up with her whiskers?” Archer dude asked, rubbing one of the three-foot appendages between his fingers.

“They detect prey,” I explained. “And shock things like a taser.”

“Cool.”

“You have no idea,” I said. “She’s saved my life a couple of times now.”

I let them fawn over her for a few more minutes, getting used to the idea of a mutant panther with an iron beak and steel-whips for whiskers before heading back to Sparky. “Is it okay if I follow you back to the school?”

“Bob Terrell,” Archer guy said, offering me his hand.

“Emmett Carter,” I replied, clasping his hand.

“Wait a minute,” Baseball bat guy said, interrupting us. “Are you Astrid’s father?”

I eyeballed him. Late 40s, dirty blue polo that was too large for him and baggy jeans. He held the baseball bat like he was familiar with it. “Yeah,” I answered. “You know her?”

“She’s friends with my daughter Kristina,” he said, smiling. “We live a mile or so from Mr. Fontaine, and Astrid visits sometimes.”

“You’re Mr. Pace?” I said, recalling the man I had spoken with on the phone a few times. Astrid would stay with Kristina overnight on occasion while visiting her mum. Not sure if it was to get away from her mum, or if Silvia just wanted to make a point by demanding visitation and didn’t care after that point. Either way, Astrid had a friend and sleepovers. She was happy, I was happy.

“Yeah,” He answered. “ Chris Pace. You look younger than I imagined.”

“I’ve had a rough week,” I laughed. “I’ve travelled a hundred miles to see my daughter again. You mind if we get moving?”

Mounting Sparky, I telepathed Sassy to keep out of sight in the woods until I called for her.

We moved up the road LA-43, Bob and Chris asking questions about what I’d seen and reciprocating with tales of their troubles with the local mutants. Red wolves mostly, but a few Orcs and Goblins. [3]

The Goblins were the worst. Apparently children were transmogrified into aggressively psychotic green-skinned creatures that attacked anyone until they escaped into the woods. The Orcs I half expected, having dealt with Mike and the boys, but not children. I would need to scan for the black motes, and try to drain them if possible.

Half a mile later, we turned of LA-43 and onto Mulberry street. Five minutes later, we were in front of Albany High School. Two minutes later, I had Sparky and Miguel hitched alongside another half dozen horses in front of the school with orders to stomp thieves into the ground.

A minute later, I spotted Astrid. Her orange hair was visible from across the high school campus, along with a bright indigo spark. She was seated at a table with a half dozen others, most possessing bright sparks themselves and weapons easily within reach. She seemed at ease, smiling and talking animatedly.

I pulled down my bandana and approached with my eyes fixed on her, waiting for her to notice me. Our eyes met, hers filled with confusion that slowly resolved into recognition. “Daddy?”

“DADDY!” She screamed, launching herself over the table to clutch tightly around my neck.

“I’ve missed you so much, punkin,” I said, burying my face into her unruly orange hair. “You have no idea.”

“I missed you too,” She said, squeezing tighter. We hung together for a moment before she tried to push away. “Oh! Your back, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed.

I gripped her with my psychic arms and lifted her away, suspending her in the air. “No more back problems,” I grinned. “No more problems at all, really.”

Flailing her arms, she squealed while floating in the air. I pulled her in close again and swung her around. “You ready to go home?” I whispered in her ear.

“Oh, goddess, yes, please” She said, her voice breaking with emotion.

I set her down on the ground and looked up at the crowd that had gathered around us.

“You got some left over love for the rest of us?” Nick said, moving in for a hug.

I looked at the faces surrounded me, recognising my sons after a moment. They had changed and were more… Vibrant? Youthful? They weren’t the children I raised, but were different, more than they were. Solid. In a world that felt unreal, they were real.

“Jeebus, look at you Azzy!” I gasped, pulling my oldest son Nicholas into a bear hug. He was 6’2” with dirty blond hair and blue eyes, and was packing on the pounds the last I had seen. Now he was lean and muscular with a shining spark in his head. A condensed disk of motes orbited the glittering red beacon, feeding it occasionally. “What are you guys doing here?” I demanded.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled, squeezing until my ribs hurt.

“Nicholas Asimov Carter,” I smiled. “It’s a good name.”

His eyes rolled so hard I could hear them clattering like dice.

Thom pulled me in next. My middle child who had a green spark in his head. He was an inch shorter than me, but built like a boxer. He was had shaved his head last I’d seen, giving male pattern baldness the finger and growing a fierce beard. Now he was solid as a brick wall with a full head of hair and a braided beard that hung half way down his chest. “We’ve been waiting on you,” he said, then pushed me back. “You look, like, a hundred years younger.”

“I feel a hundred years younger,” I admitted, turning to grab my youngest son in a hug. Doug had always been a shy child, quiet, soft spoken, and vicious as a spider monkey when pushed too far. A violet spark burned in his head, pulsing occasionally underneath his messy jet black hair. “How you been, Doug-mister?” I asked, ruffling his hair and pressing my head to his chest. He was 6’4” and slim as a toothpick, folding me in his arms easily.

“It’s been interesting,” he said, gripping me tight.

He always had a talent for understatement.

Looking around at my family gathered around me, a sense of relief filled me. Everything was going to be okay. A fierce flame blazed inside me, a determination to protect my children and see them safe and protected. It was time to get back to the farm and prepare for whatever the world decided to throw at us next.

Turning, I looked at the other faces gathered around us. Three women and Astrid’s friend Kristina. “Who are these ladies?” I asked, suspecting the truth but unwilling to voice it.

Astrid Carter

1. Blood Cactus (Echinocactus grusonii Sanguis). Threat level: Intermediate. A mutant barrel cactus with 10-20 metre vines that possesses a potent neurotoxin that causes debilitating pain which can cause convulsions. While the vines are weak and cannot drag larger prey to the main plant, the effects of the neurotoxin can render even larger creatures unable to defend themselves. Such opportunity will cause the blood cactus spawn a small offshoot near the crippled creature, increasing the domain of the blood cactus while it drains the larger creature.

2. Chihuaismo (Canis familiaris chihuahua Saltu) aka. Leaping Arseholes. Threat: Intermediate-Serious. These small beasts are mutant chihuahua with oversized rear legs which give them the ability to leap up to 10 yards. They are absolutely fearless and will attack anything that enters their territory. The danger from packs of these beasts should never be underestimated.

3. Goblin (Homo sapiens Cobolorum). Threat level: Low as individuals, Medium in groups. Tribal. Small bipedal life forms with large blue eyes and green skin of varying hues. They possess sharp claws and teeth, and intelligence on the level of a 13 year old human. While adults are apparently psychopathic, goblin children raised by humans and treated with respect are docile and make excellent workers.

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