Salzman was screaming. For a few agonizing seconds, despair gripped his bruised chest, and his mind struggled to process what was happening. Then he understood. Still barely believing it, he rushed to the edge of the cliff, leaned over, and felt the lump in his throat vanish, the weight lift from his soul.

  Adrian groaned, teeth clenched, clutching at the jagged roots jutting from the cliff’s edge. Salzman, whispering thanks to the God he didn’t believe in, reached down, grabbed his arm, and helped haul him up, dragging the young man onto the wet, muddy grass. Both of them collapsed, trembling from shock.

  After a moment, Salzman sat up and wiped the blood from his face with a scratched elbow. Abdellah slowly emerged from behind the truck’s fender, reloading his rifle just in case. The sky was burning now—no more than a couple of minutes remained before the Quake.

  “Where’s Inny?” Salzman rasped at last.

  Adrian struggled to his feet. He felt utterly drained, the energy seeping out of him like a thin trickle of water.

  “She went down, just like you said,” he answered wearily. “You saw where we were hiding, didn’t you?”

  “I was afraid more than anything of drawing the Aquilles’ attention to you,” admitted Salzman. “At the same time, I had to get you away from here at any cost.”

  “Then they would’ve killed you with the others.”

  “You still don’t understand, do you?” Salzman managed to stand, limped to the edge, and peered down. The Colonel’s body was nowhere to be seen—only the broken, swaying treetops. Salzman had no doubt that somewhere below, the monstrous fragments of flesh were already reassembling, piece by piece, and that it would take a few hours for them to reform into Colonel Aquilles again.

  “My part in this story isn’t the most important one,” he said quietly. “The only ones that mattered were you and Inny… Let’s get to the truck. If I know her at all, she hasn’t gone far. She’ll be waiting. Of course, it’s risky—if we hadn’t managed to take out the Worms, Aquilles would’ve killed us all and started sweeping the forest…”

  He fell silent, glancing up at the sky. The crimson clouds seemed closer now. Abdellah was already in the cab, the engine rumbling to life. Headlights cut through the dim forest twilight. It was around five o’clock—if not for the Quake, the sunset would’ve been blazing in the west.

  “It’s starting…” muttered Salzman. “Feels stronger this time.”

  “Get in the truck.”

  “What…?” Salzman turned to him in surprise.

  “In the truck!” Adrian barked hoarsely. “Now! I’ll try to handle it.”

  Salzman didn’t hesitate. He leapt into the vehicle’s cramped cabin. Adrian paused only a second to snatch up his pistol lying on the ground, then climbed in from the other side. Inside, it was warm; the dashboard lights glowed softly, a small lamp shone on the ceiling. The hard seats were covered with terry cloth blankets, and in the back lay a neat stack of rifles and assault weapons, boxes of ammunition beside them.

  “Downhill,” Adrian ordered. “Go.”

  Abdellah spat, rolled up the window, pulled the gear lever, and pressed the clutch. The truck lurched heavily forward, the smell of gasoline filling the cabin. Wheels sloshed through wet mud, spinning for a few seconds before the engine roared and the vehicle jerked backward, then forward again. Abdellah turned the wheel, slammed the accelerator, and they sped off with a growl, bouncing over ruts, skidding down the steep, twisting track.

  Adrian shut his eyes. He felt the energy gathering around him again—boiling, swelling, flooding his senses. He knew what was happening outside. His fists clenched, every muscle straining until his arms ached and veins bulged, but he endured, bracing himself for the impact… and then it came.

  The ground trembled harder, the air itself quivering. Abdellah shouted hoarsely, Salzman ground his teeth. Colors dimmed, dissolving into a blinding field of blue light, a torrent of directed high energy photons closing in, ready to swallow them whole.

  Adrian reached into his pocket and gripped the artifact. The burn was fiercer than it had been in that tunnel where he’d first dared to touch the knot of pure energy.

  I can handle it, he thought. I have to. I will, no matter the pain.

  He didn’t see how the vast, shining sphere, woven from threads of silver light, formed around the truck, absorbing the brunt of the radiation surge—and holding against it.

  The Quake passed. From the electrified sky, streams of glowing rain poured down. The clouds turned gray again, and the heavens—pale blue.

  Adrian didn’t see that either. Completely drained, he slumped forward, hanging limp in his seatbelt.

  ***

  “My God…” Abdellah whispered, rubbing his eyes. “Jesus Christ… Tell me—please tell me I’m dreaming. Or that I didn’t actually survive the Quake… What the hell was that?”

  “He made it,” Salzman answered after a pause, looking down at the motionless young man. Adrian was white as snow; all the blood had drained from his face, and only his faint, weakening pulse showed that he was still alive. Outside, it was once again a foggy October evening, and rain pattered softly against the windows.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “God… look, he’s hurt!”

  Blood ran down Adrian’s elbow. Salzman unzipped his protective suit, tore his old, filthy shirt into strips, pulled a medkit from the glove compartment—bandages, iodine, and antirad pills. Carefully, he cleaned and wrapped the wound, tightening a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. It was again the deep bite left by the mutant dog.

  He finally managed to bandage the wound tightly and fix Adrian’s arm in place. The old wreck of a truck began crawling forward, rattling and groaning down the muddy path. Adrian lay still.

  Salzman sighed deeply and leaned back against the seat. Abdellah, unusually quiet, wasn’t humming any of his usual road songs—his lips were pressed tight, his eyes fixed on the track ahead, hands gripping the wheel as he steered through the sharp, twisting turns of the forest trail. Salzman checked the medkit again, pulled out some antirad tablets, shook his head, then took a syringe, rolled up his sleeve, and made himself a shot. He squeezed a small dosimeter in his palm. The readings were normal, his pulse steady, no radiation buildup.

  The horizon had vanished behind the trees. The truck crawled on slowly, descending steadily lower and lower. Salzman bowed his head in exhaustion, rubbing his eyes, slapping his cheeks to stay awake, trying to focus on the streaks of mud the wipers smeared across the windshield. Abdellah rolled the windows down. Rain lashed inside, but it was the only way to see the roadside.

  They were looking for Inny.

  They found her about an hour later, after a monotonous, exhausting descent. Salzman gasped hoarsely, flung the door open, and jumped out while the truck was still moving, crashing into ferns and juniper at the roadside. He ran ahead, shoving through the undergrowth while Abdellah cursed and tried to brake on the slick, muddy slope. Salzman reached a small, motionless figure—at first glance, just a heap of gray rags. The protective suit had camouflaged her perfectly. But the scientist would have recognized Inanna anywhere, even here.

  He carefully lifted her into his arms, first checking her pulse. To his astonishment, everything seemed normal. Her vitals were steady.

  The girl was asleep.

  Salzman cursed under his breath, knelt down, and gave her an antirad injection. She didn’t even flinch. Abdellah ran up beside him, spat into the grass.

  “She’s alive,” said a voice.

  Salzman froze. Still on his knees beside Inny, he lifted his head and stared, stunned. He had long since learned that in the Zone, nothing was impossible—but he still wasn’t used to it.

  Before him, in a small clearing between the trees, stood an ancient woman. To call her a “granny” didn’t quite fit. And what would an old woman be doing in the Zone anyway, especially one wearing a necklace of wolf teeth, dried roots, and flowers? Her wrists were wrapped in bracelets of bindweed, her gray hair crowned with lilies, a gray wolf-fur coat on her shoulders, patched army boots on her feet.

  “Peace to you, travelers,” she said softly, melodiously, bowing her head slightly.

  Feeling like a fool, Salzman bowed deeply from his knees. Abdellah gaped, then quickly shut his mouth and dropped beside him, eyes fixed on the mysterious woman.

  “Peace to you as well, grandmother,” Salzman said uncertainly.

  “My name is Basilisse, Albert.”

  “Al—… Sorry. I won’t even ask how you know my name.”

  “There’s no need,” she smiled. “Abdellah, start the truck and bring it to my house. Albert, carry Inanna and follow me.”

  “Your house?” Abdellah asked, slowly getting to his feet.

  “Over there, beyond the trees.” Basilisse waved her hand, and Salzman saw it: a small hut with a thatched roof and a smoke-stained chimney, though he could have sworn there had been nothing there a second ago.

  The woman smiled and walked calmly into the bushes. There was something about her—her voice, her movements, her smile—that radiated authority, the kind one couldn’t question. And yet, all of it felt… benevolent.

  The bushes parted, revealing a tiny clearing sheltered by trees and a low wicker fence. They passed through a creaking gate beside a small vegetable patch, where potato vines lay among herbs Salzman couldn’t even name, despite his degrees in biology and botany. The hut was simple: one story, wooden logs, a triangular attic roofed with damp gray straw and spruce branches. The tiny windows were covered not with glass but with sheets of mica; yet the carved wooden frames could have belonged in a museum.

  The woman climbed the steps and opened a small door. Salzman had to duck to avoid the low lintel and the thick cobwebs. A fat cross spider scuttled into the shadows, and a black cat with glowing green eyes darted across the floor.

  “Shoo!” the woman hissed. She struck flint, lighting a candle and then a kerosene lamp.

  Salzman couldn’t help staring. The entryway was a mix of kitchen and laboratory. The creaking floor was covered in the pelts of blind hounds. The walls hung with bundles of garlic and fern, strange plants, ripper tendrils, dog claws, eyes of mutants, and all manner of artifacts. A solid oak table held pots, cutting boards, and, oddly, modern distillation flasks and retorts. In one corner stood an old stove built from bricks. Basilisse tossed in a single match, and the fire roared to life, filling the room with warmth and flickering crimson light. The air smelled pleasantly of herbs. The cat curled up by the stove, purring.

  “Come,” the woman said, opening a door into a small room. Inside were two oak tables, hung with more herbs and small bone amulets on hemp strings. Holding his breath, Salzman obeyed her silent instruction and laid Inny on one of the tables.

  Abdellah entered, carrying Adrian in his arms.

  “Lay him here,” Basilisse ordered. “Both of them survived the Quake on the earth surface, correct? Bad… very bad. I’ll do what I can—but I’ll need their consent. Especially his.” She nodded toward Adrian, lying motionless, arms spread wide on the massive table.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s dying.”

  “I know. He fought Aquilles…”

  “Exactly,” Basilisse nodded. “And that matters a great deal. To defeat Aquilles, he had to give everything—drain all his strength. His body can no longer sustain life. But there is a way to save him. However, I will not begin until he says yes. Because the path is difficult and dangerous. And the son of Philip Thorne must choose for himself, just as his father once did.”

  “His father?” Salzman asked, stunned. “You… you know something?”

  “I know much,” she said softly. “But not all of it should be told. Now go. Leave us. I will bring them back to life.”

  Without a word, Salzman and Abdellah turned and stepped out of the room. The door closed quietly behind them. They sat down at a small table, and Salzman wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

  “I feel like I’m delirious,” he muttered. “You left the truck in the yard?”

  “Yeah,” Abdellah said uncertainly. “Damn it, I’ve driven through this area a dozen times, and I’ve never seen anything like this…”

  “She’s a witch,” Salzman said firmly. “But a good one. And she’s going to help us.”