"What did the fish say when it ran into the concrete wall?" May - or Mage whispered. It hadn't been funny when Hickory had said it at dinner, with her family -

"Dam."

It wasn't funny now. The river was emptying. Not flowing. Red Hills could not exist without it.

Rogue snorted - "Nice!" holding up a high five.

May didn't panic, she scrunched her features into a heinous, donkey bray of laughter and high fived him back -

Her mousy, frizzy hair. Her glasses. She had tried to be less compelling, shy, to fit in - to keep from distracting them. Too much?

Hermione -

Apparently you didn't have to actually be smart to join. If you were a woman?

"You have quite the wit, m'lady." Druid bowed to her. May found herself blushing, you didn't always have to act...

Of course she was a member, one of the most important organizations within the community? This was May's Method - to be seen first, admired, that ripe cherry perched atop an airy desert, that celebrated peak of perfection! That's what people saw May as -

Not the crust. They didn't appreciate what held it all together - the unsung hero of the dish, the most difficult part! The crust...yes, deserts were messy things, banana splits, creme pies? Of course she was watching her figure - molding it. There was so much to a woman...a disguise. A desert.

It couldn't all be sweet! You needed balance, structure, something on the bottom to spread that sticky sweetness on, to keep it all from falling apart...

Yes, Red Hills needed her. Hickory needed her.

The Order needed her, brilliant though they may be, marvelously, delightfully, at times, dreadfully - brilliant, they lacked certain methods of discovery. May handled those methods - when needed. When they tore through the libraries, the histories, the theories -

"Mr. Benson, just in time and aren't you looking spry?" May winked, bending over the elderly man, placing a flat cake next to him.

"Oh, I can smell when the soups ready." His gravely voice boasted as he tapped his grandfatherly nose, the gray hairs of his nostrils celebrating the acuity.

"I'm sure you know a great deal more than that." May smiled, "You've lived in this area your whole life haven't you?"

"Oh I have, I've been around the block going on fifty years now."

"That's amazing." May beamed, sliding into the chair next to him, "I bet you can remember the last time the river was this low..."

"Hmph! Certainly." May felt relief, it was normal - "It does it every time they work on that dam."

Of course. May didn't reveal her sources, or take credit and risk exposing her methods.

A hint. A joke. An insinuation.

Runners. Reports. Realization.

The guys were going to handle it, to fix the problem. That's what they said, the town would be evacuated. A precaution. May wouldn't have known what they were going to have to do - to risk, if not for the Order.

They stood tall. Smiled. Pretended. As the women brought gifts, curated care packages. All the things that they would need...to face this. All the things they wouldn't think about, that could make it just a bit easier.

Rolls of toilet paper -

Men. The things they sometimes had to do. The horrors they had to face. The burdens. They hid that from them, the people of Red Hills, from May. To protect them, so they could sleep.

Oh my.

They all waved - as the boat started, as Hickory and friends pushed away from the dock, the fan whipping the women's hair in romantic fury, the men looking ahead, glancing behind.

You didn't know there was a bomb on that boat, a secret. You didn't see murder in their eyes. Just love. A willingness...they didn't want people to know. Didn't want May to know - and so she hid that knowledge.

For them.

She smiled. She waved with the others, a paisley handkerchief fluttering, "Be safe! Be Careful!"

Tackle wept, shaking her mane, rearing up in a majestic goodbye - ribbons fluttering, using the motion to block May from view and stomp on her foot.

"It'll be good to get away." Hunter said, "We need a vacation."

"We haven't been camping in forever." Chase nodded.

"More like glamping." Gage said, going through some of the bundles - "Is this lotion?"

"Oh shit, sunblock! Hook me up!"

Hunter stood on the boat - long rifle ready, balanced on a mount. Flags fluttered at each corner, Gage steered - the other three sat on the padded rim of the bath tub not talking about what they were going to do, if they had to - they didn't say -

Probably just beavers, no rain, an overreaction -

They could tell themselves that. They still could, until...

"Damn if it ain't hot!" Hunter said pulling his shirt off, pausing with it halfway up. The chuckles were forced as the others agreed, they pulled shirts off, grinned...just camping.

"Fucking marshmallows! God, I love them ladies."

"Wait until there's a fire! There's crackers and...chocolate syrup?"

"Shit, better than nothing, what's a chocolate bar going for now?"

"You can't buy them." Hunter grunted, "Foolish, people should sell the luxuries now, the markets peaked. This syrup is probably worth 50, 60 marbles an ounce? How close are you to making sugar out of the Melons, Chase?"

Chase shrugged - "That's an outfield problem, we could do it now but the separation process removes the micronutrients, it'd be a waste."

Hunter nodded.

"The Fields might fund it, reduced transportation costs until the canal is built, a way to store the calories year round. That's what sugar is supposed to be, not a necessity."

"I still like it though."

"Flour. Walnut flour is where it's at, good protein, no empty carbs. Blackberry syrup, pancakes you can eat every day, just eggs and walnut flour. They'll have plenty of food."

If we fail -

Weston turned. Listening. That was what had bothered him about the river, it didn't make sense. Why close the dam?

It was obvious once it had been pointed out by the Order - immediate. It was the flow. Excess water was what moved a river. There was a way you could calculate the volume. The pressure. Estimate.

Even without flow a river would still appear to be a river, the water wouldn't just vanish. The water would equalize - became a long, snaking lake. That's what they were boating across, a long lake - the fan boat a must in parts.

Sandbars and jutting branches, an entire ecosystem threatened. A way of life. The town was being evacuated, the College attempting to predict the calamity of a flood, a damn breaking from topographic maps, math, engineering - guesses, in case they had to blow it, in case it was about to burst now...

Could Chase destroy it? They brought a bomb...Hickory's sword, perhaps? They knew in Red Hills, were preparing...but how many people would they flood in the process? Even if the calculations promised it wouldn't...

They couldn't warn everybody, they -

"Damn it!" Hickory said as they passed by another grouping of houses along the river. Nice houses. Riverfront property.

Dam it.

Murderers? Saviors? History...depending on how close you lived to the problem. The solution.

"Tackle and May seemed to be getting along just fine." Chase said after a minute.

"Oh, I knew they just would." Hickory said, "Two ladies like that, both sable as samite."

"You're already on lesson twelve?" Chase asked, giving Hickory a fist bump.

"Tackle loves the reading." Hickory said, "She loves them stories. those books give me the nicest stories for her, all stories bout horses and heroes."

"Really?" Gage asked, "It does that? Shit, I want to read to Tackle."

"Oh, she'd like that, Gage. May said she'd read to her, I wish she could come but she's still just a baby, she didn't understand why I had to go."

Hickory coughed.

"We'll read to her together when we get back. The artist is gonna draw her every day so I don't miss her growing none, she's growing so fast."

Weston watched Hickory look into the distance - Gage as well, watched them turn away. What did it mean to be a man?

Occasionally Hunter would say "Ears."

They'd plug them, he'd fire - a shadow died. Sometimes he used the new bullets. Mixed with marble. Smith. Expensive.

Sometimes Hickory's belt was enough. Hunter was cheap, of course - frugal. Didn't waste even if they had plenty.

There was 'Consideration' put into every shot. Every action. He had been gaining experience all along, how he used it. A slow walk to the top.

They stopped for the night, built a fire - Chase set up the tent beneath a tree, hung eggs like ornaments around the clearing, dangling from cloth baskets. Then they relaxed, they camped.

Alcohol. Food. Stories. Distractions.

"I can work with this." Gage said.

And Weston, surprised, as Gage pulled out a cast iron skillet and -

Not tossed eggs, but -

"Rare?" He asked the audience.

"Fuck no. I'll have mine cooked." Hunter said. Weston didn't speak, but his steak arrived on his plate almost blue. Barely seared on both sides.

The way he liked it. Loved it.

Gage took the cooking skill?

"A fine meal." Hickory said, patting Gage on the shoulder, "Not that I'd expect less after seeing them toilets."

What?

"Wasn't it though?" Hunter nodded seriously, "Quite the feast, you're a lucky man, Weston."

Gage grinned, "The good part about these damn pots is you don't even got to wash 'em!" He said holding up the cast iron.

"You don't say?" Chase took it, looking it over, "Now that would be a thing, right here, Hunter. Making these pans so the ladies don't have to do the dishes, wouldn't they like that?"

Hunter nodded his head, didn't even grin, and Weston thought it was cruel, "Oh, certainly. I'm sure I'd sell a lot if I could figure out how to make them, a thoughtful gift like that, but with how expensive they are? How rare? It'd need to be for someone truly special."

Weston watched Hickory look at the pot thoughtfully, stroking his chin where the blond bristle of beard was starting to shadow and Weston already knew how upset May was going to be, getting an ugly pot, and then he thought of his last conversation with May...

'I love him.'

They'd hugged. Sat down on her parents swing and talked, shared, smiled. Drank melon tea, and...she really was perfect. Laughed about it, how stupid it was for them to both find such happiness. Such a realization at the same time. Admitting it to themselves, each other.

'I was going to tell you the same thing.'

Roasted marshmallows, beer.

"Oh, I don't think I'm that tired yet." Hunter said, even though he'd yawned three times, "I probably could stay up another hour."

"The stars sure do look right," Hickory said, laying back, stirring the hot coals with his shielded toes, rubbing his belly, "I wouldn't mind sleepin right here, just grateful with a grin."

Weston couldn't blame them, knew it was uncomfortable, sleeping in the same tent as him once they knew...that even if they'd stopped with the jokes, had become strangely supportive there were still some boundaries -

"I'm sleeping on my pallet, they had plenty of time to use the tent, if they want to play Pokemon they can go down to the river." Chase said getting up, giving Weston a shove that knocked him into Gage, "Just don't break his nose this time."

"Do you want a strawberry, Tackle?" May offered. feeling the tears threaten. Tackle was the size of a pony, now. An ass -

Neigh -

May fed Wildcard the strawberry. Ate one herself -

"Mmmmmm." May licked her lips, "Aren't they good, Wildcard?"

"Mooooo."

She wasn't jealous of a horse - she was...

"It's important to keep spirits high until they return. That means music. I guess you can dance, Tackle. Since you don't have fingers."

Her foot was still bruised, healing, but -

"What ribbons do you want to wear?" May held up ribbons, a garish orange and a puke green...

The people of Red Hills knew - it wasn't a festival. The music was different.

"Don't leave your tools behind, we'll have so much work to do after this little vacation, I hope you've picked out the blueprints by now! And whoever's praying to save money on the demolition costs, I'd just ask you to stop, at least until my babies back."

Mama Fontess.

She wasn't ready for this, she was still learning her role, her responsibilities.

'Evacuation in Progress. Meet at Town Hall.'

A flag replaced. A message on every contract. Every deed. Bad news, a flood was coming...

Myrtal - Mama Fontess - walking through a town she no longer knew, had grown up in, hid from.

"Remind them that food is waiting." Rebecca whispered.

"Bring your stomachs, there's so much food already, you can almost smell it from here. Steak! Potatoes, and the corn is high, so open your ears - necessities, bathrooms, all waiting for you, just bring yourself! Bring what's most important. Bring your families and if they need a ride let us know! We don't want anybody missing dinner cause they couldn't find a way over!"

Mama Fontess could be loud, she had to be, raising him. Hickory. Calling out, telling him to come in for dinner, always outside, always exploring. How do you come to terms with a mistake like she'd made? How do you move past it?

"Deep breaths." Rebecca whispered.

She was a hypocrite. All parents could be.

"I need a cigarette."

"Wave." Rebecca reminded her, as they moved through the crowd. She smiled, waved widely, pinched cheeks. People reached out to shake her hand, greet her. The town was so different.

It had grown like mold on a loaf, random and chaotically in spots. Tents and quick shelters, houses turned into duplexes. Garages rented out. Emptied out. The mini-storage place had become an apartment complex.

And she had become a Queen. A Mama to all, not just Hickory. That had been Weston's vision, an adult figure that Hickory trusted, a person that would do, without doubt, what was best for him...

Weston had taken her to get the Acting Skill. Given her a role to play, Rebecca was helping her write the script. Two women, the two that loved him the most, working together to right their wrongs.

So many people loved him. She was so proud. So scared.

"Mama Fontess." A bodyguard opened a car door for her and Rebecca, she scooted into the back.

"Good, Myrtle." Rebecca sighed, relaxing with the eyes off them, "Paula Dean was a great choice to go with, the body language works for you."

"Because I'm fat." Mama groused, dabbing her sweaty brow with a handkerchief. But it did work for her, her bigger figure. Loud. Cooking. She was certainly no Princess Diana, and leaning into her flaws, the theatrical acting, the grand gestures were enough.

It was her...inside. A loving person, just not a public person. Paula Dean was, she borrowed that hat. That apron, a spoon. Her regalia.

"It'll come easier with practice." Rebecca ignored her griping, "The Chapel, next?"

Mama nodded. It would be packed. The whole town was like a hectic parade, people filling the road, the route to Covanger Fields where they chipped away at a canal.

It was like watching an old movie, a ridiculous take on a western. Men and women with guns holstered, rifles slung over their shoulders. Teams of people working together, pulling trailers with backpack harnesses. Chickens! Chickens everywhere!

Fishing poles.

A group of people Mama recognized from being at the palace, recognized because of those outrageous outfits. Robes. Knights, now apparently.

Young men mostly, they moved through the crowd offering help, an elbow for an elderly woman to hold as she crossed the street. Another carried a bag of possessions like groceries.

Mama laughed. She couldn't help herself. Rebecca joined - the stress! And it was all so ridiculous, but people weren't panicking, weren't shoving or looting. They were helping each other. Throwing away everything extra into the pools, loading it into cars and pushing the whole thing into the pool...

They'd pull the tires off first! The wheels were worth more than the car, now. The rubber. The wipers made great fly swatters, this had been going on since they knew...

"They don't look sad." Rebecca said, "Maybe it just hasn't kicked in yet."

"They don't care about the stuff as much as each other."

Hickory looked at his book. Watched the points going up from the offering pools as it had all week, he'd built more pools so people wouldn't have to go so far to make what they had marbles.

10% went to the Font for rebuilding, in the new ones. Not the original. People could choose.

He'd get his Font points, too, once the cycle had ended, and he hadn't wasted, he'd not blown all the points, the bathrooms hadn't been so much, but could it be enough? Maybe...

There were more people! Even now, the Font number went up. Faster than ever before...five hundred more people today had drunk...

He'd have ten thousand soon. Ten thousand free points...plus the Font numbers, plus what he had saved, he'd have enough to rebuild, to build it all...

He had wanted to leave the book with Ma or with May. Wanted Weston to stay behind, to watch over it. There weren't enough points to build a wall around the whole town, the whole river that they could rely on...

A wave break. Just in case.

What half would you protect? What half would you let flood? Even if it might work. What people were more important?

He'd been sad, before Tackle, about thinking. About life being complicated, about wanting it simple. The solution was simple. Blow the dam before it bursts on its own. What it meant, it was complicated.

"I cain't do it." Hickory whispered, "I cain't risk killin' all them folk, look at em, there's kids right there, their Da taking 'em fishing, trying to keep em fed, all here at this river. They won't know. The last thing they gonna see is a wall of water."

The fan boat roared, Gage steered and stared ahead, Weston had his hand on his shoulder, Hickory felt how dry his throat was, as dry as the river would be if he didn't, but -

"That's all right." Weston said, "You don't have to, that's why we came together, we -"

"That's what I'm saying, we can't do this. I've been spending this whole trip trying to make my mind complicated enough to see how it's right. I'm tying myself in knots coming up with an answer."

"It is simple." Hunter said, "That damn is like a bomb and we're sitting on it, every town downstream from here to Mexico is going to get wiped away if it breaks during the rainy season. It will always be a threat without somebody to maintain it, it almost flooded back in 2015 twice! With people watching it!"

"If the bomb works it shouldn't do that." Chase said, "But water ain't something you can fuck with, have you ever seen a levy break when people were irrigating their corn?"

Hickory nodded.

"Just that one drop, just that tiny leak washes the whole levy away, the whole dirt wall in seconds!"

Hickory nodded, they'd explained it but -

"That is what this dam is, just a big wall of packed dirt, if we can blow the gates and let the water bleed through to take the pressure off? But even then..."

That was what they wanted to do. Bleed it out.

"That's what diplomacy is for, that's what Weston is going to do, make a plan. A buddy promise with all the people of the river. To have everybody work together, trade, but...this river is like a nuke, there's no other way I can say it, the person that controls this dam will always have a gun to everybody's head down stream."

It was then as they approached. The river continued to widen. You could see how far it had dropped, the banks that should be grass were mud, tangled cliffs with exposed roots. Flotsam.

Garbage as well, cars dumped, their rusted roofs poking up above the water like mines to be dodged.

"People are fucking stupid." Hunter said, shaking his head, "Tossing cars in the river, insurance I bet. Bet they didn't even drain the oil."

Hickory stared, it wasn't right. People not giving a damn, and he thought he was most angry. Until he saw the dam, itself. From this distance a long ramp, a wall. Just a trickle of water flowing out from it.

A Red Wall.

"That ain't good." Hunter had his weapon turned, his chamber locked back and safety on, using just the scope. Gage pulled back on the throttle, the fan's roar dropping to a ready hum.

"Fuck." Hunter passed the gun.

"Not an accident."

"Or beavers." Hickory truly had just wanted it to be beavers. He knew how to handle a beaver, certainly he did, but beavers couldn't use a magic book - he was decently certain of that as well.

Before him, down the silver Magellan Scope, he saw the Dam. Saw what blocked it, the very same Walls he'd thought about building himself, just a different color - they were like stacked stop signs almost, like the honeycomb you could now buy in the market, and wasn't it the same?

The sweetness of the river, held back from leaking out.

"Why?" Weston whispered, "There's got to be an incentive, I thought it had to be just jammed, the turbines got hung up or..."

"It's going to be a long ass camping trip."

"Once upon a time there was a brave prince that could ride better then any man in all the lands...."

Tackle looked up at May hopefully.

"He had a magic sword and all that saw it quaked, afraid of how mighty it was, that he didn't even have to stab you with it to bring you to your knees, and locked away in the tallest tower was a princess -"

May jerked her hand back, narrowly escaping another bite. She looked around, again, nobody had seen!

"Fine." May whispered, "It was a beautiful horse, locked away in the tallest tower that would look out over the land and weep, hoping to be free."

Tackle whinnied happily, and May returned to brushing her.

"More then anything else the Prince wanted to rescue that horse, so he rode the princess - Ow! Tackle! You can't be rescued and ridden at the same time, you have to share."

Tackle snorted.

They each took a sip of their bulletproof potion to refresh the buff. They all had flasks of the stuff, had sipped it the entire way in concern somebody would pirate the boat, snipe them, but they'd remained unmolested except for shadows.

Peace of mind. The potion was also a bitter reminder of how the world had changed. That they weren't in Red Hills anymore. There were no homes as they got closer to the Dam, government land, before. They parked the boat a quarter mile back on a sand bar because the Dam was being guarded.

Would they be shot if they got too close - they'd probably survive a bullet. Should. But if a bullet hit the bomb?

They pulled what they needed then covered the boat with branches, hiding it.

They didn't wear camouflage, they didn't want to look threatening - not yet, until they knew what they were up against. They hiked up the bank, far around until they reached a road, following it around and then they saw the lake.

So much water! You didn't think about it driving past, you didn't realize how dangerous it was, what it was capable of - to live on the wrong side of it.

Gage summoned a Body Double, Weston took control of it, made his way toward the dam, the structures they'd seen, carrying just the town flags on poles, one in each hand. He knew he looked stupid, like the lost leader of a parade - but these things were important!

He heard Hunter sniggering as they waited, concealed. Could almost hear Gage roll his eyes. He approached the fortifications carefully, non-threatening, feeling Hunter tickle his nose with a feather.

At least they didn't tea bag him, they'd have their nuts roasted for trying that again - and yet he was also grateful for the distraction, because it was obvious things were serious. Worst than they'd imagined.

Weston had noticed the change in Hickory, his silence. They'd left with the intent to blow the dam if they had to, but now? Hickory was unwilling - quiet.

"Greetings!" Weston shouted as he neared, approaching what appeared to be unique structures from a Book - guard fortifications, "We come to parlay with the Fontiff! Representatives of two settlements! Two Towns! We request a meeting!"

Silence.

Looking at the fortifications. They were strange structures, like red guard blockades or a small Fort but what had Weston's complete attention was the antenna. Communications? Then why had it swirled and pointed directly at him? Followed him as he'd walked...

They hadn't yet pursued the barracks - the military choices. They'd spent their points on survival, food, or in his families case, luxuries as well...now they didn't know what this antenna could do.

It felt almost cinematic, the lake spread out to his left, full and endless. To his right, he could see the dying river. The dam that separated the two, the red buildings that stood between it all...and just Weston Covanger, a flag in each hand fluttering in the soft breeze, wearing the tight clothes Gage had envisioned for him to show no concealed weapons.

Slacks and a polo shirt, dress shoes. Probably a tasteless tattoo somewhere hidden, other fancies...

The antenna didn't zap him, Weston waited, was about to shout again in case they hadn't heard. His heart dropped. He watched as three men revealed themselves of the fortifications, approached wearing military uniforms, kevlar helmets. Body armor.

The Army.

He swallowed, shared the information to the others, heard cursing. Weston planted the flags, keeping his hands spread wide, gripping the poles, his hands wouldn't shake but nor would he be threatening.

"Good afternoon." The lead man said, eyeing Weston's flags, "I'm Captain Martins, and you are?"

They'd approached, but stopped ten feet back. The captain had a holstered sidearm, the two soldiers had rifles, M-16s held half ready. No bows. No unique weaponry - that was something. Relieving. Assuming they hadn't learned the secret of Marble Metals...

"I'm Weston Covanger. You're the Army?"

"The Corps of Engineers." The man nodded and there was a flicker in his voice. Weston looked at the patch on his uniform, it looked like the front of a castle - a fort. Red.

"What's going on with the dam?" Weston asked.

The Captain stared at him.

"I'm not at liberty to say, but you can request a meeting with the Commander and he may decide to share the information with you."

"He's the Fontiff?"

"He's the Commander." Captain Martins corrected. Confident, but there was a heartbeat of hesitation to that as well.

The fucking Army!

"Where can I find him?"

"Headquarters is in the town of Denison proper, it's the largest building. You can't miss it."

"Is there any laws, rules?" Weston asked.

"Martial law, of course, but you're still hours away from curfew." Captain Martins said, "Would you like an escort?"

Weston shook his head, gestured, "No thank you, Sir. That direction?" And the Captain nodded.

He walked that way, to fade once he was out of view. Hickory was still quiet, but this changed everything, didn't it? The Army?

The dam wasn't broken, it was being blocked for some reason. The military had somehow decided it was a good idea...nobody was working on it...and the walls?

"What are we going to do?" It was Hunter that asked the question, Weston's double still moving ahead like a scout, half listening - What could they do? If those were weapons? Did they have night vision, these were soldiers they were dealing with...

"There's got to be a diplomatic solution." Weston said, "We find out what they need to open the dam, why they are doing it. We can convince them."

"What the fuck is the Corp of Engineers?" Chase asked, "Is it the Army or not?"

"It looks like the Army." Weston said, "Maybe it's just a part of it?"

They talked, discussed, and Hickory remained quiet. They took another sip of potion, headed into the town, it took them two hours to walk there. Vehicles were sporadic, but visible, running. Mostly military.

There had been a defense here, the shadows hadn't conquered the Font. Hadn't dispersed after wrecking havoc and fouling fuel like at the Tribe, or at least not all of it. This was a big town - bigger then Red Hills and Covanger Fields, combined.

Denison.

That was the biggest disadvantage for them, the lack of ready resources to turn into free points, the lack of population. That was what held them back. All these larger towns, as their Diplomatic representatives pushed out, attempted to make contact, they had a free pool of points to start building fast...

Even Jared had seen that.

Denison was no different, Weston could see the destruction was not chaotic, it was more like a pruned tree. The parts of a town that wasn't needed had been ripped down. Stop lights were unbolted. Powerlines pulled. Excess vehicles and billboards, but basketball hoops remained. A swingset. A playground.

But what was most obvious was what had been added. Military structures, towers - poking up like quills, Red, almost like water towers, antennas on top - no shadows.

They had somehow unlocked some sort of weaponry to fight the shadows. Something that wasn't reliant just on guns, bullets, bows - bullets that had grown increasingly less effective as the shadows had gotten stronger. Red Hills solution had been to trade for the bows, and now they had the marbled metal as well.

Ranked metal, another factor of consideration. Iron would be the weakest, probably, Smith had to level up his skill, his ability to work with other metals - The Order had said.

Denison's obvious organization became more apparent as they got closer to the heart of the town, aside from the towers there were man made checkpoints, sandbags ready to provide cover, vehicle barricades to slow a speeding truck - bullet holes in buildings, crossfire? From the shadows early showdown?

The whole town had become a military base...

But what was most apparent was the Chapel, the largest building, and the Corps of Engineers flag, same as the patch flying high.

"There's no American Flag." Gage said, Weston looked around and certainly -

"You're right, there isn't. Is it normal though? Maybe it's somewhere else."

None of them were military.

"It can't be." Chase said, "Even the Army - Navy games, there's an order to things. American Flag, nothing goes higher than that, we should be able to see it easy. That Corps, its...got to be like a team, like a football team, it's part of the League, the Army. But this flag is like saying they are their own league."

Relief?

"What's fucking worse?" Gage said, "That we'd be up against the Army or somebody with all the resources of the Army and none of the commitments."

"Captain Martins seemed a decent sort." Weston relayed, "But we knew there was a breakdown with communication, it's possible they're just acting as a placeholder -"

"The flag makes it different. Just like ours does."

Our town flags. Weston started to say it, but was it? A Territory. They didn't pay taxes, didn't owe allegiance, didn't get help...

They were heading directly for the Corps Chapel, Weston assumed to talk things out, to speak with this Commander but he felt the change in Hickory. The silence had been one of weight before, but suddenly the weight had vanished.

The were all silent, walking together. No smiles or jokes.

It was like they had wrapped those parts up in handkerchiefs, the favors of their women, ladies counting on them. Tucked into their pockets, saved for later. This discussion, the debate was already over. Had been, before the river was even blocked.

Made at a table. A shot of whiskey. Together.

It was just unbelievable, that was the only thing that held Weston back from accepting what was about to happen because you don't attack an Army.

You don't punch an Angel, either.

And yet what choice did they have? Hickory refused to use the bomb and even if he did - the 'Commander' could repair it. They'd already reinforced it, the magic structures were durable and their bomb had been designed only to blow the gate, to make it no longer able to be blocked, to slowly empty the lake out over years rather than all at once.

But attacking an Army!

"We should discuss it, make a plan." Weston said once his tongue had caught up to his brain they were stowing the extra gear in a drain pipe. Chase was pulling out a belt, a small bandolier of potions, slinging his bat over his shoulder - two revolvers, tucked into each boot.

Hunter had a framing hammer, long, a heavy head, made of the solid watery metal but painted over, a grip of leather. A tool belt.

Gage strung the Tribe's gift, that bow, wrapped with tape to hide it's might, a thin frame of arrows slung over his shoulder, they didn't look dangerous. Not compared to an Army, but...a gun wasn't what it use to be, was it?

Weston - the other version of him waited ahead waited patiently.

"What plan can we make?" Gage asked, "We've already told them where we're from, those fucking flags."

Hickory nodded.

"It's a gun to our head, it always will be. If they'll dam it, damn us, what can they say that can change that? All we will do is give them a chance to buy time, plan, wait for us to leave and then maybe do it on purpose?"

"We should have practiced, we should have practiced attacking a Font." Weston said, they all stared at him.

"You haven't been practicing?" Hunter asked.

Even Hickory stared...

"Tackle won't practice, Gage. She doesn't like the water. She's afraid it's gonna get her ribbons wet."

"She loves those ribbons." Gage said, "I'm getting her a set of bells for Christmas, if I can wait that long to give 'em to her."

"Now what an idea!" Hickory said, "Then her and May can make music together, oh they'll both love that!"

It was nerves - getting them out. Reminding themselves what they were doing it for.

"You were busy, and you've already done it for real." Gage reminded him, "Do you really think they even have a chance?"

"Not against Chase!" Hunter said, "Trying to beat him is like wrestling an oiled pig covered in razor blades."

"It's just technique." He passed Hickory and Weston what looked like white tubes - "It's chicken bone, just put it in your teeth, if you need more fuel bite down and swallow the juice, it'll cancel your other out so only do it if you have to."

Weston looked down at the thigh bone with an etched design. They were beautiful, but the design was obviously there to control how they broke, to make it easier, to control the splintering, one end whole, the other was plugged with wax.

Weston felt suddenly outclassed, like his own accomplishments had become...boring? Like he was falling behind, Hunter building palaces, Chase, a college, Gage, a security apparatus, learning the bow, the horses. Cooking. Of course Weston had been running back and forth between the two towns, trying to make everything copasetic, trying to manage Hickory and Pierson, the flies, the diplomatic front -

"But what happens if -"

Weston felt the words die off. If they died, the book would return to the Font. The Order had instructions - they knew what to do.

"Ya'll ready?"

"Oh, I better piss, first." Hickory said, "Before we get in there, don't want to make that mistake again."

It was a good idea, then they washed their hands and decided to have a snack as well, because no use fighting on an empty stomach.

"These Indian Bars are good!" Hickory said, "Jerky and berries, fat and honey? I guess you put a bunch of good things together, it can just get more good."

They left the shade of a tree and walked. Walked closer and began to see more of the town - Denison. What the Font and Book was used for - No bank or market. No industrious population. Instead it was all military. People moved quickly, their posture tall, long strides. The buildings for housing were barracks. There were people exercising on parade fields, tracks for jogging, all red.

And there was discipline.

There was a walled yard with military equipment, no tanks, but the military jeeps. Hummers. Troop transports. There was also building equipment, Backhoes and bulldozers, cranes and more - some things he'd never seen before they were so specialized.

Sitting there. Because it wouldn't fit in the pool? Just not enough fuel?

They walked casually, but they were observed. They were also just kids, a group of teenagers. What a word that was...how easy to forget.

As they got closer the Chapel loomed larger and larger, and Weston saw that it matched the Flag, the Army Corp of Engineers symbol, like a symmetrical fortress, a Fort.

There was a single opening, a wide entrance that had a drop gate that could close like a store in a bad neighborhood, made of a gritty red, dense material. The building was massive, as big as Jared's had been, walking around it -

Strolling casually, yet there was a pressure. Weston felt his heart thudding as he moved around, passed hundreds of armed soldiers. People in uniform as they walked around the building. Any one of them could shout. Could -

"Where the fuck is the Font at?" Hunter mumbled, they'd circled around the whole building, walked a full mile searching. They walked over to a group of soldiers standing casually, talking, asked them.

"It's inside."

They pointed at the building. Inside the Chapel.

Stupid. Stupid of them not to think to do that, they'd only just found out about the bathrooms, but -

They turned back to the open gate, the looming building, and entered. Soldiers walked past them, it was like an unspoken rule - moving like traffic, everybody keeping to their right. There were guards that looked them over but didn't stop them, then inside the Chapel?

Weston felt the flavor of the Font wash over him. There was a rigidity to it, a precedence. There was seniority, and also respect. Tradition. Duty. It didn't feel bad, it didn't feel oppressive. Or independent.

The interior wasn't a throne room. The Font was what occupied the first room, the wide chamber in the center of the structure. It was like a water feature. People walked past it, around it on the way to their business.

Unlike other Fonts, this one had no roof. It waited in the center of the expansive room, filled with people moving about their business like a water feature, almost like a hotel lobby.

They walked toward it...

Dueling may have started as a hobby for Chase, a way to blow off steam and challenge himself in a way he'd never had before. Everybody seemed to perceive it slightly differently, but it was certainly a sport.

A competition.

There was a strategy to it, especially when it came to teams - multiple opponents, and they were facing the military! Who would be better at strategy? He cleared his mind prepared to access his power, opened up his awareness, to earn his name. His title.

They had started calling him the Professor. Not because of him teaching, the College, that had occurred after - they called him Professor because if you got into the dueling pool with him?

He was taking your ass to school!

And then when they started dueling with teams - that's where shit got crazy, that's where it got fun, because if you ever saw a team that couldn't work together? A team made up of a bunch of show offs. A bunch of individuals? All Stars? Egos? Personalities? Powers?

Coach. That's what they called him now. The reason it didn't matter that Weston didn't practice was that Chase's power - it was Control.

It had taken him a while to understand it - he wasn't an emotional dude. He controlled his emotions, always had - Gage was different, had his reasons. A wall could be a good thing.

They'd all hid behind that wall from time to time. Protected by it. A wall of loyalty, now, it was good, a good thing for them. Best Good Buddies.

Control was what he'd been doing, controlling the substances, the materials, making them into potions, combining them, brewing them, temperature and timing.

Control of a Lab.

Control of a Dueling Field - the pond. The Arena.

That's what a good Coach did. He took all those individuals, all those players and he made them into a team. Weston had been training without even realizing it every time they'd fought. He'd been listening to Chase call the shots, not questioning, not interrupting, not stopping to think if it was the right call.

That's what Chase used his power for in a team. For Marking. Assigning enemies. Measuring opponents, weighing them and understanding their abilities and advantages, their potency. Then assigning the right members to handle them -

He had a thousand strategies flashing through his head, knew what each of the team was capable of. Hunter's power took a while to build up, and it was easy to tear down but once it was done? Gage was best used defensively, protective, a guard dog, fierce and planted but strangely vulnerable and sacrificial it roused to attack.

Weston was incredible, it was like watching the Olympic Torch lit up, what it stood for, that proud flame, all those accomplishments, the competitiveness, he represented the best!

And Hickory?

"That was easy." Hickory whispered, lifting the book up out of the water. Chase saw him stumble, Gage was quick, wrapped his arm around Hickory's waist and held him up.

Chase blinked.

And of course - if you saw a team of All Stars. Professional athletes walk onto a field, you didn't expect them to face kindergartners. That's what it had felt like. It was over before the whistle blew. They'd stuck their hands in the water, Chase had watched all of them push toward the center, the Red, vibrant Font hadn't boiled so much as burst.

Chase looked around -

He had a hidden belt full of various potions, smoke grenades, irritants. Toxic substances to confuse, ways to control a battlefield. He was -

"Well, damn, I'm just a bit disappointed, no wonder we lost to a bunch of rice farmers!" Hunter said laughing, also relieved. Weston stared at Hickory who was shaking, pale and swooning. Gage helped him bend over, slurping from the Font, long swallows. His face got some color back.

That power. It wasn't just that Hickory was powerful, stronger then them. It was that he pushed everything out at once, gave everything. There was no fuse to light, no warning. No trigger pull or hesitation, no defense.

Just an explosion, every bit of Reservoir he had! What was his Will? He looked worse then somebody who'd been dueling for half an hour!

People were looking at them, soldiers. Attracted to the noise, and now there was silence. They'd heard the water, saw that the Font had changed, but obviously didn't know what to make of it.

Waiting for orders.

"See, if we'd all of worked together?" Gage turned to Weston, "You wouldn't have been leaking everywhere like a broad on the rag."

"Ugh." Hunter said.

"You ain't got your red wings yet?" Chase laughed, giving him a push.

"No, Chase. That's one potion you can keep to yourself."

Weston spat out the bone tube, unbroken, passing it back and Chase tucked it into his belt.

They all looked around again, still nobody had shouted. Nobody had weapons pointed at them, just stared as though unsure of what had happened. Chase felt equally confused, had expected a showdown.

"What do we do?" Hunter asked, "They're just looking at us. Are you sure these are soldiers? Is the Corp of Engineers soldiers?"

"Do something, Weston." Hickory whispered as he tested his weight, Hunter swung to the other side, grabbed an arm. Chase saw his potion had already been crushed, a sliver of bone rested on his lip - hopefully he hadn't swallowed the rest? That was going to hurt.

Weston blinked at Hickory, seemed to wake up.

"Holy fuck." Weston said, he looked at Gage, at the others, his tone accusing, then shook his head. Looked at the Font. Back to Hickory, "Holy fuck. Lets just...lets, well - this is why we need a plan."

Then Weston's eyes flickered, blinked like a catcher's mitt closing over a slider that threatened to escape, his gaze held over the room, weighed every person, dared them to make a move - to take a foot off their base.

"Take me to your Commander." Weston ordered a soldier. Then they heard the explosion. It shook the ground.

"Damn it." Hickory said, turned to run, like a puppy, swimming. Lifted up out of the water, legs and arms paddling because they were holding him up, he was too weak to stand on his own.