Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Dixon never should’ve given Glory his Glock. You could never tell with nomads—did they mean well, or were they just faking it until they got what they wanted? For crying out loud, she was attached to one of the cannibals! For all he knew, she could’ve been in on the attack on the nomads!

But, he could also remember the concern in the girl’s voice during his blackout; how, if nothing else, she’d tried to rescue them from… whatever that was. Some part of Dixon wanted to trust her, if not her pet cannibal.

Movement up ahead dragged Dixon forcibly back to the present, and he glanced over at Wilkes beside him. “You ready?” he asked.

They nodded.

Dixon unholstered his rifle with a small frown. It wouldn’t be fun, shooting it off in a cave, but it wasn’t like he had many options. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Wilkes reaching for their weapons, too.

Now armed and ready, they took aim and fired at the oncoming cannibal horde.

Dixon took the first shot, and nailed one of the NuAnderthal freaks right between the eyes, knocking it to the ground. It didn’t make much of a difference, since they just kept coming, but Wilkes took down a few of their own.

They took turns like that, shooting their way through the horde until they made it back to the big ritual chamber, Dixon counting bodies as they went along. He only turned up thirty or so. That sure as hell hadn’t been all the cannibals under Ghost’s control.

He’d only sent a tiny fraction of his people after them. Why? Was his heart just not in it? Or…

Or had he set up a trap at the other end of that tunnel?

It made sense, Dixon supposed. Ghost hadn’t known for sure that he and Wilkes would come back—setting up an ambush at the other end would’ve been a smart way to round ‘em all up.

But now, Glory and her pet cannibal were in danger.

And Jimmy was still missing.

Dixon turned to Wilkes and clapped them on the shoulder. “Listen to me. Get to Glory an’ cannibal boy. Watch their backs. I gotta feelin’ Ghost didn’t just give us an easy time for the fun o’ it.”

Wilkes cocked their head at him, but nodded, turning to head back to the tunnel and leaving Dixon alone in the ritual chamber. The damn cracked wall with the Benefactors’ sigil seemed to be staring at him, but he ignored it. He didn’t want a repeat of whatever had happened to him and the others earlier.

Instead, he eyed the pile of cannibal corpses at the far end of the room, where Jimmy had gotten free. Dixon had never been prouder of the kid, but now he was in trouble. And Dixon had a really bad feeling about this.

He shouldered his rifle, but kept his ears perked for anything sneaking up on him. Slowly, tentatively, he approached the pile, and began shifting unruly, over-muscled limbs around, trying to catch a glimpse of anything that didn’t belong.

One particularly stubborn corpse, with a trio of gunshot wounds in its head, was right in Dixon’s way, forcing him to shove it off the other side with a great big huff. The body landed in the dirt with a thud.

Dixon froze for a moment, worried the noise might’ve gotten someone’s attention. When nothing happened, he continued his search. Quietly, he questioned, “Jimmy?”

Nothing.

A little louder, he repeated, “Jimmy?”

Still nothing.

God, Dixon hoped that was because Jimmy couldn’t hear him, and not because he couldn’t respond.

He continued digging, growing more and more impressed with Jimmy’s death toll, when he at last uncovered a limp arm that did not belong—clothed in a light leather jacket, with nails bitten down just about to the quick.

“No,” Dixon whispered, “No, no, no.”

He felt for a pulse at the arm’s wrist, and when he felt nothing, he followed the arm down to the shoulder joint, then uncovered the rest of Jimmy’s torso and pulled him up into a seated position.

The kid’s eyes were shut, and he didn’t react one bit to Dixon’s rough handling.

“Jimmy!” Dixon barked. “James! Open your eyes right this goddamn minute!”

No response.

Desperately, he pressed two fingers to the kid’s pulse point, and felt nothing. He realized numbly that his hand was trembling. That must’ve been why he wasn’t feeling anything; he was doing it wrong.

As a last-ditch hope, he leaned down and pressed his ear to Jimmy’s chest, listening for a heartbeat.

Nothing.

“No,” he croaked, barely above a whisper.

Not again, damn it! His parents, Tommy, now Jimmy… Just about everyone Dixon cared about ended up getting offed sooner or later. After all: twice is coincidence, but three times is a pattern, all of them with Martin Dixon at the center of them.

And all he could think of was, What’m I gonna tell Lucy?

Jimmy had never been the sacrificial type, always joking that that was more Dixon’s style. It looked like he’d gotten the last laugh, in the end.

Dixon hung his head, and noticed the corded bracelet around Jimmy’s wrist—a keepsake from their parents, if he remembered right. It sure as hell wouldn’t fix anything, but Lucy still deserved to have it back, so Dixon slipped it off of Jimmy’s rapidly cooling wrist and tucked it into a vest pocket.

He grabbed his rifle and reloaded quickly, just in case he ran into trouble on the way back, before staggering away from the pile of bodies. In a just world, he’d have been able to drag Jimmy’s body out of there for a proper funeral. But this was not a just world.

“I’m sorry, kid,” he whispered, before turning to leave.

Jogging through dimly-lit, dusty cannibal tunnels wasn’t Dixon’s idea of a good time under the best circumstances, which this certainly wasn’t. Every time the tunnel twisted around a blind corner, Dixon squeezed his rifle just a li’l tighter, just in case he had to fire off quick. Like this, with no one around to watch his back, he had to be careful.

It wasn’t long, though, before noises up ahead made him mentally prick up his ears. At first, it was just more of the distant, rumbling growls the cannibals tended to let out even when nothing was happening. When they were immediately followed by what sounded like murderous roars, though, Dixon’s gut swooped and he picked up the pace.

He’d failed Jimmy already. He wouldn’t fail the others, too.

The tunnel opened abruptly into what, if it weren’t in a cannibal lair, might charitably be called a dining room, with rough table- and chair-sized and shaped chunks of rock scattered around, most of them splattered with layers upon layers of blood.

Worse than that, though, was the two different tunnels leading out of the room, both looking pretty much identical from his current location.

Great.

He was half-tempted to call out to the others, just to see if they could hear him. But all that’d be likely to do was get the attention of the cannibals, which was absolutely the last thing he needed.

He dithered for a moment, glancing between the two tunnels, before he noticed a splotch of fresh blood smeared onto the edge of the left tunnel entrance, in about the right shape and position to have been left by someone’s hand.

Worry bubbled up inside him—fresh blood usually wasn’t a great sign, especially in a cannibal lair. But he could hope it had been left behind by the others. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice, after all.

He took the bloodstained tunnel and jogged a little farther, not sure whether to feel worried or relieved when the cannibals’ grunting got a little louder.

That was good, right? It meant he was getting closer to the action.

He was left even more confused when the noises abruptly cut out. That was either very good, or very bad.

The tunnel made a sudden turn upwards, and Dixon was left scrambling up a surprisingly steep slope before he finally emerged in a much larger chamber.

Only once he caught sight of the smoldering fire pit at the base of the little rocky drop-off did he recognize his surroundings as being the entrance hall. From the back, it looked so different.

But that just raised more questions. There was no way he’d crossed half as much distance on the way out as he had on the way in. It was like he’d somehow taken a shortcut, even though he’d been traveling in more or less a straight line.

But, pressing as those questions were, his attention was quickly torn towards the series of cannibal corpses that led him towards the actual mouth of the caves, like a particularly grisly trail of breadcrumbs. A few troglodyte bodies in the carnage were still twitching, and Dixon paused to shoot each of them in the head, just to be safe. Better take the ammo loss than risk them suddenly recovering and coming after them when they weren’t expecting it.

Dixon kept jogging along, until the mouth of the cave came into his view. And along with it, a figure danced around the entrance. Reflexively, Dixon raised his rifle, but paused when the figure yelped and raised their hands.

“Don’t shoot! Dixon, it’s me!”

Glory.

“What the hell’re you doing here?” Dixon snapped as he skidded to a stop in front of her. “I told you to get the hell out!”

“We had a better idea,” she said dismissively, nodding vaguely back behind herself, where Dixon could just make out Wilkes fiddling with the rocks that surrounded the mouth of the cave. That was when Dixon noticed the little bundles of ‘special firepower’ that Lucy liked to cook up in her spare time, woven expertly through the rocks around the entrance.

“Dixon?” a familiar voice asked, and a pit settled in Dixon’s gut. He peered around Glory’s shoulder, to Lucy standing a few feet away next to Wilkes, looking shocked to see him. “She said you weren’t coming back.”

“Probably!” Glory snapped. “I said he ‘probably’ wasn’t coming back.”

“Well, I’m here,” Dixon snapped down at the little nomad woman. Surprisingly, she didn’t so much as flinch. In fact, she looked like she’d barely noticed at all. Instead, she turned to Lucy. “I think we’re ready.”

“Where’s Jimmy?” Lucy asked, suddenly noticing the missing member of their band.

That empty pit in Dixon’s gut turned into a churning vat of acid as he searched for the words. But what could he say? How could he possibly explain what had happened. How they’d run off, and left her brother to his fate?

Sure, Dixon had gone back, but it was too little, too late.

Glory suddenly jolted at Dixon’s side, though, just as more growls could be heard deeper inside the caves, echoing against the stony walls towards them. She grabbed Dixon’s wrist and dragged him away, past Lucy and Wilkes. “Questions later!” she shouted, snatching Lucy’s matchbox and lighting the fuse.

The four of them ran for cover, which turned out to be a nearby outcropping of rocks, where Glory’s pet cannibal already waited. Now more or less shielded, the five of them clapped hands over their ears and waited.

Over the whistling of the desert wind, Dixon could hear the cannibals storming the mouth of the cave, swarming to catch them. They never got the chance.

Lucy’s concoction lit up with an ear-piercing roar, immediately followed by the rumbling and crashing of a cave-in. The cannibals let out disgusting squishing and crunching noises as they were crushed under thousands of pounds of rock.

Dixon tentatively lowered his hands from his ears and took a look around at his companions. Glory was peering around the edge of their shelter, while Wilkes appeared as unaffected as they always did.

Needles simply lowered his hands to his lap and stared at the rest of them wide-eyed. Dixon couldn’t read his expression, flickering somewhere between shock, horror, and what looked like remorse. He at least didn’t look like he was about to attack them, which Dixon figured as a positive.

Lastly, he looked to Lucy, where a pit opened up in Dixon’s stomach at the hollow look in her gaze. She already knows, something cruel whispered in Dixon’s head. She knows, and you didn’t have the balls to tell her yourself.

“I didn’t expect that to work as well as it did,” Glory chirped. A stiff grin crossed her face, as if she were unused to making the expression. “Perfect timing on your part, I might add. Where’s your friend?”

Lucy looked over sharply, biting questions in her gaze. Glory’s words all but kicked Dixon in the jaw, and he glowered at the sand between his feet. Reaching a shaking hand into his vest pocket, he retrieved Jimmy’s bracelet and held it out to Lucy.

Lucy stared down at it, open-mouthed, tears welling in her eyes. “No.”

Dixon could only nod, and deposited it gently into her outstretched hand. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

She didn’t respond. Her shoulders trembled as she curled around the bracelet, sobbing into the supple cord.

“He didn’t survive, I take it,” Glory said.

Lucy sobbed louder.

Dixon snapped, reaching out to grab the front of the nomad woman’s jacket and yank her forward. “No, he didn’t survive!” he snarled. “Congratulations! You were right!”

She blinked at him. “Of course I was. But how, exactly, does yelling at me help the situation?”

“You—”

“Your friend’s death was regrettable,” she continued like nothing had happened, “but I thought it was fairly obvious that he wouldn’t have been able to survive. Not when he was that outnumbered.”

“Shut up!” Lucy shrieked. “Just shut up!” She continued sobbing into the bracelet.

Dixon’s grip on Glory’s jacket trembled for a moment before he let go and shoved her away. She landed impassively in the dirt before rolling forward and dusting herself off.

“You’re distraught,” she said, as though that weren’t obvious to anyone with eyes. “We should wait to speak until you—”

Dixon almost thanked Needles when he set a hand on her shoulder and shook his head, silencing her. That was a talent worthy of some respect. But, Needles interrupting Glory’s completely tone-deaf speech drew Lucy’s attention towards him, and her expression shifted, from agonized to enraged.

Dixon had only seen that look on her face once before; when her and Jimmy’s parents had been killed by raiders when they weren’t much bigger than kids. To see it on Lucy’s face again was worrying. To see it aimed at Needles was… something else.

“You!” she spat. She shoved forward, past Glory, to loom over the cannibal. Ex-cannibal? Whatever he was, she loomed over him, rage pouring off her in waves. “Your brother was the leader, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he? He was the one that killed my brother!”

Needles’ jaw flexed, but he answered, “Yes, he was.” His voice was soft, tired-sounding, and Dixon realized with a jolt that Lucy wasn’t the only person who lost a brother that evening.

Sure, Ghost was a bloodthirsty lunatic, and Dixon sure as hell wouldn’t be mourning the bastard, but he’d still been Needles’ brother. And that same bone-deep pain that urged Lucy to lash out was visible in the dark circles under the ex-cannibal’s eyes.

“We oughtta light yer ass on fire an’ toss you into the canyon like they did to Black Sun!” Lucy shrieked, though Glory stepped in to separate them before their argument could turn physical.

It took a couple seconds for what Lucy said to really sink in, but when it did, Dixon’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Lucy looked over at him, and Dixon got a good look at her for the first time since he emerged from the cannibal lair. She, frankly, looked terrible. On top of the stark grief on her face, she looked like she’d been dragged through the streets. Blood caked her hands, especially on her knuckles and under her fingernails. And dark, hand-shaped bruises ran up and down her exposed arms.

“Lucy, what are you talking about?” he asked again.

Lucy took another deep breath, and ended up releasing it as a ragged sob. She slumped against the rock, her head drooping low. “They—They came ‘bout an hour after you an’ Jimmy left.”

Dixon swallowed his own panic and knelt down in front of her. “Who did? Who came, Lucy?”

“Raiders.”

Dixon’s jaw clenched. He raised one hand to the side of her face, where he noticed a large bruise forming. The other hand curled into a fist on his thigh. “What happened, Lu?”

“It was so perfect,” she gasped. “I swear they planned it with the cannibals. Just as soon as I couldn’t see you no more, the raiders came leapin’ outta the night like ghosts. Dragged most’a the townsfolk into the street. Rounded up most of ‘em to ferry off somewhere, killed the rest. Mostly the older folk. Burned the buildings.” Another ragged sob ripped from her chest. “There’s nothing left, Dixon.”

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

“Swear to God, Lu, if this is one of your jokes—” Dixon didn’t bother finishing his threat. He could tell just from the look on her face that it was real.

He leapt to his feet and turned to run up the large swell that led to the top of the canyon. He could hear the others yelling for him—Lucy especially—and scuffling footsteps as they followed, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

He reached the top of the swell gasping for breath, the setting sun at his back, and let out a horrified cry at what he saw.

The still-smoking remains of Black Sun, burnt to the ground, bodies littering the streets so charred he couldn’t recognize them. It wasn’t nearly enough to be everyone, though. Just as Lucy had said, the raiders had dragged most of the people off.

Dixon collapsed to the sandy ground, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed, apologizing to everyone he’d failed under his breath. He could hear people running up behind him. Lucy dropped to the ground beside him, dragging him down next to her. “There’s still a few in there!” she hissed. “I saw ‘em prowlin’ around. They’re probably s’posed to wait in case you came back.” Her voice cracked, but she kept going through sheer determination.

Dixon sobbed a few more times before inhaling sharply. More footsteps followed them as Glory, Wilkes, and Needles knelt down beside them. Dixon didn’t pay them any attention, turning to look at Lucy instead.

Her gaze drifted over Dixon’s shoulder, and her gaze hardened. “What about your ‘friends’?” She nodded toward Needles. “Can we trust the cannibal not to give us away?”

“He saved our lives,” Glory snapped. “I think he’s earned a little trust.”

“Fuck your trust,” Lucy snapped. “Everyone I’ve ever known—my entire life—was just murdered. So take your moral high ground and shove it up your nomad ass, bitch.”

Glory rolled her eyes. “Yes, because throwing your life away seeking revenge is the perfect way to honor your friends’ memories.”

Dixon held up a hand to silence both women before Lucy could retaliate. If they started arguing, they could be there all night. Much as Dixon might agree with Lucy, his Marshal training kicked in right about then, reminding him that they had bigger concerns right then. Namely, the raiders still prowling through the remains of Black Sun.

“You said they were waiting for me, right?” he asked.

Lucy nodded, confused.

Dixon turned to grin maniacally at her. “Let’s give ‘em exactly what they’re lookin’ for, then.”

The fearsome, matching grin on Lucy’s face was something Dixon had never seen before. And, under normal circumstances, he’d never have wanted to see it, either. But right now, he just wanted to make them pay. And that vicious glint in Lucy’s eyes made him think her mind was on exactly the same wavelength.