Spence dug his cloak out of his pack and put it on, more for show than the cool air. Random rays of light fought their way through the canopy, the beams appearing solid in the damp air. The forest consisted of mostly mature hardwood trees, though not nearly as large as the ones the elves lived in. The ground was level and the walking easy. The woods were still, with only the noises of water droplets plopping onto the ground from leaves high above and the sporadic rustling of forest creatures scurrying across the forest floor. Occasionally, they heard a sound in one tree or another and even caught a rare glimpse of movement that wasn’t a small animal. They knew the sounds were from elves, either keeping a watchful eye on them or merely watching in voyeuristic curiosity.

“Morgan, I’m surprised you’re not staying here. I mean a goddess, a female leader, and the women seemingly ruling the men,” Trey said.

“Don’t tempt me. I’d have all the boy elves sleeping on the ground. And the girls would rule from the biatch tree."

They all four laughed. Spence was always amazed at how Morgan could handle Trey, from joking along with him one time to getting in his face and giving it back to him another. Then he thought about his theory that Artemis had contacted Morgan to champion the elves. Had Trey been smart enough to make his statement to judge her reaction?

“I need a cigarette,” Morgan said after the laughter had stopped.

Caleb laughed. “We’re walking in a pristine, ancient forest on a beautiful morning, as far away as we could be from modern civilization, and this makes you want to smoke?”

“When did you hear me say I’m not screwed up?” She laughed. “I don’t know. Mornings like this remind me of September mornings after school starts back from the summer. When I was little, my dad used to walk Jade and me to the school bus stop. He’d always be puffing on a Marlboro, with the smoke hanging around our heads in the thick, damp air. God, I loved that smell of fresh smoke. Of course, when I was older, and he no longer walked us, me and Jade would take a quick puff on a stolen cigarette before the bus arrived.”

“And you continue to this day in the school parking lot, huddled with the Goths behind bus fifty-six,” Trey added.

“Sounds like we need another hiding place,” Morgan said, but not giving Trey her usual dagger gaze. “I suppose it just reminds me of a happier, more innocent time when we were a closer family.”

“A nasty habit—especially from someone who wants to save the earth from the evils of mankind,” Caleb said, this time not smiling.

“We all have our vices,” Morgan said. She brushed a spiderweb out of her hair. “Besides, it wouldn’t be fair if I were too perfect. What about you, Survivor Man? Tell us something about you.”

“Like what?”

“Like, what do you do that reminds you of your childhood? Or what vice do you have? You’re a survivalist, right? I’m sure there is something you do or some habit you have that doesn’t fit in with wanting to live alone in the wilderness surviving off the land.”

Caleb grunted but didn’t respond.

“Look, we’re trapped in some type of make-believe world, fighting monsters and swinging in trees with elves. We’ve all saved each other’s lives and will again. There’s a fairly good chance one or all of us will be buried here. I seriously doubt that we are returning to high school and our cliques. I think it’s time we tear down some walls,” Morgan said.

Spence was pleasantly surprised with the exchange. He thought Morgan might have been the last to open up. But she was as emotional and animated as he had seen her. They had been going full speed, like at the start of a James Bond movie, since they had arrived. Now, for the first time, they had time to breathe. Illexya had also assured them they would be safe for at least a day or two. Their stomachs and packs were full, the day was beautiful, and the mood was as light as it had ever been.

“Beer for me,” Trey said.

“Are you ordering one or what?” Morgan asked.

Trey chuckled. “My vice and what makes me think of childhood. It’s kind of ironic. As I told you, my dad is an alcoholic. He’s an angry drunk too. I can’t count the times he’s beaten the shit out of me with one hand while holding his beer in the other; the son-of-a-bitch never spills a drop, either.”

“So, beer is a good memory?” Spence asked.

“Not those memories. But when I was a kid, my dad was my little league football coach every year. He wasn’t as bad back then, when Mom was still around, and Tyler was home. Sure, he still drank, but he kept it under control. But when I smell beer, I think about when we’d sit on our front porch after a practice or game. He’d always drink a beer or three, and we’d talk about football—little league, high school, college, pro.” Trey paused for a moment, and his eyes turned ever so glassy. “He was a tough coach and father, but every now and then, while he sipped on an Old Milwaukee, he’d give me a compliment or two and talk about my future. When I turned twelve, he’d even give me a little sip occasionally.”

“I’m guessing all that changed after your…mom….” Morgan said softly.

“Yeah. A lot changed.”

“What did Tyler end up doing?” Spence asked.

“He blew his knee out his junior year at State and ended up dropping out. He went to truck driving school and is now an over-the-road truck driver. We don’t see him often.”

“OK. Caleb, Trey stalled for you. You’re up, big boy,” Morgan said, shattering the awkward pause after Trey’s revelation.

“I can’t believe I’m sharing anything with you band of misfits.” Caleb turned and gave a slight, crooked grin. “Prepping is my biggest love…and my biggest hate. My father began prepping after 9/11. Of course, I was too young to remember when it began. He was convinced the terrorists would hit us with nukes, taking out the power grid. If not the terrorists, then China, Russia, or North Korea would take it down with a cyberattack or an EMP. Once the grid was down for a couple of weeks, the country would spiral into irreversible chaos. If we didn’t kill ourselves, Russia or China would take over. Either way, we had to learn how to survive off the grid.”

“That sounds a little crazy,” Spence said hesitantly.

“Crazy? Really? How long does it take for looting to start after a hurricane or tornado? Hours. Every grocery store and Wal-Mart would be empty in a week without power. Sure, the police, military, and National Guard would try to keep order. But what about when their families run out of food and water or the neighbors are threatening them? Once the authorities leave their posts, it’s on. People revert to savages very easily when it comes down to survival. You can argue the premise of the grid going down but not what would happen after.”

Spence had never thought about it, but Caleb made a lot of sense. He nodded for Caleb to continue.

“Well, when I was old enough to participate, my dad became even more obsessed with prepping. He spent every free moment buying and storing supplies and building an underground bomb shelter and numerous bug-out hideouts, including the cabin in Asheville. And we constantly trained with weapons and practiced hand-to-hand combat. He tried to make my mom participate. She did, but as little as possible. She never said it, but I could tell she thought we were crazy.

“When I was twelve, my dad and I went on a camping trip in the desert. We used to go on survival outings that would make Bear Grylls, the king of survival, cry. I mean, a pocketknife and piece of flint and two days in the desert? Well, when we returned, Mom was gone. She left a note that Dad read and promptly shredded. He never told me what it said. He just said she didn’t want to be with us anymore.” Caleb’s eyes turned glassy now. He paused for several seconds.

“I knew the prepping made her leave. I used to wonder if she’d come back if we stopped. Or if I stopped, would she return for me and take me with her. But she never came back to give me the option.”

“She never contacted you again?” Morgan asked.

“I get a card in the mail every year for my birthday and one for Christmas. There’s no return address. She usually writes a line or two and says she loves me and hopes to see me again someday soon. She sends a pic at Christmas. That’s all. So, Dad and I keep prepping for doomsday. But the longer we go without it coming, the more I wonder about my mom and how things might have been different. So, prepping is both my love and hate.”

“Did your mom get remarried, or do you know?” Morgan asked.

“Oh, yeah, a year or two after she left. And I have a four-year-old stepsister, Abigail, or Abby as Mom calls her, who I’ve never met. She always looks adorable in the Christmas pictures, though.”

Spence was amazed at the revelations coming out today. He realized this was really the first time they had gotten to talk without drama or conflict. Since Trey had seemed to mellow, the tension had eased. “My turn?”

“You’re up,” Morgan said.

“I don’t have a good story like you guys. I have a mom and dad, who I assume love me. They never really took an interest in me until my wreck, though. I heard all the stories from Kayla and Andrew of all the fun things they did growing up. But once they graduated and left the house, it felt like my parents forgot they had one more to raise—like they were too old and tired to be concerned with me. I used to beg my dad to go out and play with me—riding bikes, shooting basketball, throwing a baseball, hiking…anything. But he was busy with his job, yard work, or just too tired. Mom was always grading papers and making lesson plans.

“There weren’t any kids my age in our neighborhood. When I was twelve, Dad bought me an Xbox. He never played it with me, though, so I taught myself how to play. I discovered a whole online community of kids to play games with. My parents weren’t shy about spending money, so they gave me any game I wanted, as long as I was quiet and didn’t bother them.

“After my accident, my parents became a lot more attentive, like they felt guilty or something. But I just immersed myself into online role-playing games, mainly Warcraft. I suddenly had friends and found something at which I was rather good. No one knows what I look like or that I’m crippled, and I can play characters that not only can walk but are superhuman. So, computer games are my biggest love and hate. I love them because they’re all I have, but I hate them because I’d like to have so much more.”

“Did you ever try to play sports?” Trey asked.

Spence swallowed hard. “Yeah, I begged to play Little League, every sport, like Andrew and Kayla did. But my parents said I’d get hurt, that I was different from my brother and sister. I guess because I was pudgy, weak, and uncoordinated. They also didn’t have time to run me to practices and watch games. And I didn’t have any kids to play with outside in the neighborhood. So, by the time I got to high school, I was overweight, socially awkward, and friendless. And of course, it only got worse after my accident.”

“Jesus, could Nibiru have picked a better quartet of screwed-up misfits?” Morgan asked.

Spence laughed with the rest of them. It helped to prevent tears from appearing in his eyes.

“Maybe that’s what they wanted. Maybe the gods have a sick, sadistic sense of humor,” Caleb said.

“Yet it seems we’ve made it further than any other group,” Trey replied.

“I guess the moral of the story is, don’t screw with crazy,” Morgan said.

“OK. Team, bring it in.” Trey stopped walking and pulled the four into a tight circle. “Hands in the middle. Crazy on three.” Trey stuck his hand into the middle of the circle. Caleb placed his on top, then Morgan and Spence. “One…two…three…crazy!” They all four shouted the word crazy loudly and threw their hands high into the air.

“Hey, guys, does this mean we’re a squad now?” Spence asked.

Trey laughed. “Well, Spence, I reckon it does. In this world, we’re now the Earth Squad.”