A black and white blur streaked towards Fletcher, coming to a screeching halt just before they collided.

  Backup dropped the misshapen, well chewed piece of wood at Fletcher’s feet and looked up at him with expectant eyes.

  “One more, and then we take a break,” Fletcher said, despite the fact this was their third “one more.”

  Picking up the stick which was slick with saliva, Fletcher chucked it as far as he could, sending it halfway across the small plaza in the city ruins. It was far from where he’d been with Kenzo when she died, and really far from the crater left by Hugo and the bomb. It was a place he didn’t have to remember those things, and instead he could focus entirely on the single bright spot in his life.

  Backup came dashing back to him and dropped the stick once more. Shaking his head, Fletcher sat on the ground and patted his lap. The dog lopped over to him and laid down, placing his head on Fletcher’s legs.

  The sun warmed them despite the chill in the winter air. Things were peaceful, and Fletcher managed to avoid remembering too many terrible things.

  He rubbed Backup’s head, giving him solid scratches behind his ears where he liked it best. The dog’s tail thumped the ground in approval. As Fletcher moved to scratch Backup’s chin, he noticed the time on his watch. “Sorry, boy. I have to go. I know this was a short trip, but today’s a big day back at the station,” he said.

  The dog whined as he stood up.

  “I’ll see you in a couple of days,” Fletcher promised, making his way to the jeep. Much of the metal which made up the body was holey and misshapen, but he was just happy to have a vehicle back to do patrols with. It’d really sucked doing them on foot for two weeks until Hernandez got around to repairing the vehicle.

  Seven weeks. It’d been seven full weeks since the final battle with the Unhumans, and Vesi Station was still a mess. It didn’t help that they were low on supplies of all kinds, including food since so much of it got shot or blown up during the battle when the rations were used as defensive barriers. That meant they’d all gone down to only two meals a day, one of those meals using whatever Fletcher and George harvested from their half-destroyed indoor garden. But it was something. Fletcher only ate one meal most days to ensure the others got enough food.

  They also lacked things like bullets and grenades and even basics like wire, so it’d been a struggle to properly repair the station after all the damage done by the Unhumans. But today marked the end of all that. The supply plane was due in, and with it would come food and other vital necessities. Best of all, it would also mean they could communicate with the outside world again. Without the comm tower, they had no way of telling anyone what happened, and there had been no way to repair it even after the Unhumans left.

  Fletcher enjoyed the cool breeze as he drove, cigarette in mouth. He didn’t smoke too often, but he allowed himself to enjoy it a little bit. There was no harm in that, especially with all the other chaos he was dealing with. He arrived at the gate, greeting the two people on guard there. While they all hoped the Unhumans were through with trying to take Vesi, nobody was willing to risk being caught unaware. They also kept a guard at the catacomb entrance, and Fletcher had finished putting out all those sensors, this time calibrating them for Unhumans as well as the animals that could be found in the ruins or the catacombs.

  The program was still riddled with bugs which he was struggling to patch up, but it gave him something to do at night when he couldn’t sleep. His nightmares were often so intense he never got more than four or five hours of rest.

  But that worked out since there was always a lot to do at Vesi. When Palacios and Jana weren’t both black out drunk, Jana slept while Palacios curled himself in a corner and muttered to himself. Fletcher, along with everyone else, ignored them. Those few personnel who hadn’t picked up weapons to defend Vesi Station were set free though since Fletcher didn’t see a point in keeping them locked up when they had so few people to attend to all the tasks anyway.

  George remained on the bottom floor, caring for the garden and hiding from almost everyone. Norton and Hernandez assisted Fletcher in keeping the base running, but he noticed Norton kept a flask on her, and Hernandez always seemed a little out of it.

  Fletcher parked the jeep in the garage and grabbed out his bag with his laptop in it. Hernandez along with a few others were waiting just outside.

  “She is coming today, right?” Fletcher confirmed as he swung his backpack to his back.

  “That’s what the schedule says. Walters’s good about coming mostly on time,” Hernandez said.

  “Is Towne ready with the injured?” Fletcher asked.

  “Yeah. He has a radio, and Granger agreed to go with to help manage them,” Hernandez answered.

  Fletcher nodded, trying not to think of the three lives they lost because their injuries were too severe to be treated at the station’s small medical facility. If help had come sooner, they might still be alive, but Fletcher was hopeful that the other two heavily injured would make it safely to Cape Town where they could be properly attended.

  Everyone else was more or less healed up. Fletcher had a multitude of new scars to carry alongside those from Trevor the cycat, and his ears still rang and struggled to pick up really sensitive noises, but at this point he was used to it.

  “You have your report?” Hernandez asked.

  Fletcher swung his bag around to dig out the papers—a full accounting of everything that happened during the battle, ranging from his discovery of the Unhumans and argument with Palacios to Hugo taking his place in the suicide mission and bombing the Unhumans into retreating.

  Nothing more was said as they waited in the chilly afternoon until at last they saw the faint dot moving towards them.

  “That’s her. Should I radio Towne?” Hernandez asked.

  “No. Let’s wait until after we get the plane unloaded and I get the chance to talk with her,” Fletcher answered.

  A few minutes later the small cargo plane rolled to a stop on the airstrip, and the back door dropped down. Walters waltzed out with a grin on her face. “I must be something pretty special to be greeted by Lieutenant Asshole himself. Where’s Hugo? Couldn’t pull him from his game to come say hi?”

  “Dead,” Hernandez answered sharply. “Show a little respect, Walters.”

  Walters laughed. “Ha. Ha. Come on. Stop playing with me.”

  “He’s not, Captain. Let’s take a walk while they unload the supplies,” Fletcher suggested.

  The Captain raised her eyebrows and fell in step besides Fletcher. “What’s up, Dixon? You guys are acting strange.”

  Fletcher launched straight into the story, briefly covering all the major topics of the battle including Hugo’s death.

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  “No. I don’t believe it. This isn’t a funny prank.” Walters stopped walking and crossed her arms.

  “It’s not a prank, Walters. Look out past the fence. See all those holes? Do you think we put them there for fun? I can show you where we buried all the Unhumans and our dead if you want, but I’m not going to go desecrating their graves just to appease your curiosity,” Fletcher replied.

  She looked at him. “Why didn’t you call for help?”

  “I told you, the comm tower was down, and then it got blown up. We couldn’t.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Why Vesi? You guys are nothing.”

  Fletcher stared out at the city ruins. “Your guess is as good as mine, but that’s not what’s most important right now. We have injured people who need to get to a real hospital. And you represent our only contact with the rest of the Mixed. I need you to go back to Cape Town immediately and tell them what’s going on. I have a list of extra supplies we need, and there are the dogtags of everyone who died on our side. I also wrote consolation letters to their families which need to be dropped off.”

  “I can’t believe Hugo’s dead. I just…”

  “Yeah. I get that,” Fletcher agreed. He took a deep breath. “Okay. They should have everything unloaded. You understand what we need?”

  “Yeah.”

  He handed her the papers. “This is a full report along with a supplies list. The sooner you can come back, the better.”

  She nodded. “Okay. I’ll try to come back tonight and maybe bring some help.”

  Fletcher scoffed. “Yeah. I guess we could use another electrician.”

  “Hang in there, Dixon. I’ll see you soon.”

  He waved to her as she returned to the plane. Hernandez was helping Towne and Granger with their patients. The plane’s hold was small, so it was less than ideal for this kind of transportation, but time was of the essence. Once they were all secured in the hold, Hernandez came back to stand by Fletcher as the plane took off.

  “Get someone to organize the rations. I don’t want people to overeat and make themselves sick,” Fletcher said.

  “Yes, sir. Norton is already on it.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to go over the supplies list and get stuff organized. Have the guards send word when Walters gets back,” he said.

  “Yes, sir.” Hernandez saluted.

  Fletcher saluted back and then walked inside. He found where the others were already organizing the supplies and lent a hand in getting it all organized and put in the correct locations. After that he went back to his room since it was getting late and there was no word yet on Walters. It was a long trip to Cape Town, and then it would take time for her to get through all the reporting, so he didn’t expect until the next morning.

  Sitting at his desk, Fletcher pulled out a piece of paper and wrote to his dad, getting all mushy in his feelings about how tired he was and how many bad memories talking to Walters brought back. He then stuck that letter in the drawer that was nearly overflowing with unsent letters and pulled a new piece of paper out.

  His family would surely hear of what happened at Vesi, which meant he needed to send word to them. But he wasn’t sure what to say. This wasn’t like his other letters where he gushed all his thoughts and feelings. This was meant to be something more light-hearted that would keep his dad from worrying. But he just couldn’t find the words.

  After writing three different beginnings, Fletcher crumpled the paper and tossed it to the side. He had too much energy to write any more right now. He got up, changed clothes, and went on a run outside on the airstrip. They used to have a small gym with proper equipment like a treadmill and weights, but those things all got used in the defensive wall and thus were blown to smithereens.

  It was freezing this late at night with the sun gone, but Fletcher didn’t care. He’d warm up soon enough. He stretched out his tired legs and started at a light jog, running along the mostly repaired runway. One thing he hadn’t realized he would miss so much was having company on his jog. Back in Bren’it’p, Knarf always went with him. And then after joining the Mixed, PT was done in groups. Even before the attack, Fletcher had made sure to stay in shape by working out every day, and about half the time there was someone else in the gym.

  But nobody else cared to go running late at night in the bitter cold, so Fletcher went alone. Somebody might have come with him if he asked, like George. The [Insectoid] was always eager to be around him, but Fletcher couldn’t bring himself to ask anyone. He didn’t want to be a burden.

  The memories came into his head again. Death. So much death. The Unhumans killing the Mixed. The Mixed killing the Unhumans. Him ordering people to kill. Him killing.

  Feet pounding against pavement, Fletcher increased his pace. Every step pushed back the memories, if only for a moment. The faster he ran, the less he could remember. And so he ran, jogging back and forth along the airstrip until his legs were ready to give out and then just a little longer. Eventually he couldn’t keep going, no matter how badly he wanted to. Covered in sweat and shaking from exhaustion, Fletcher made his back inside and to the officer quarters. He took a quick shower and then decided that he had to at least try sleeping.

  It went horribly, just like it did every night. The nightmares were actually worse than they had been in weeks, and he woke up covered in cold sweat after only a couple of hours. More images of dead people on both sides coming back to remind him that he was a monster, a killer. He’d become the very thing he feared the most, and his dreams always reminded him of that. People were dead, and it was his fault.

  Afraid to shut his eyes again, Fletcher got up, changed, and went down to the garden to work with the plants in hopes of finding some kind of peace for his racing heart. He and George had repaired all the garden boxes, and aside from the small fight when the Unhumans first showed up, the hydroponics bay hadn’t taken too much damage so most of the plants were still mostly alive and providing a small supplement to their supplies, just as he originally wanted.

  Fletcher had been there maybe half an hour, alone with the vegetables when his radio went off.

  “Walters is back,” the on-duty guard said.

  Fletcher dusted the dirt from his hands and jogged out of the room and up the three flights of stairs to be back outside under the clear, starry night. The small cargo plane was back, and people were already unloading another series of boxes.

  “Walters,” Fletcher called out.

  “Dixon. Good. They sent me back with a temporary comm tower that they want you to install asap,” she said.

  “I’ll get right on it.” Fletcher turned to go help unload when Walters grabbed his arm.

  She said something, but Fletcher’s hearing was too muffled to make it out entirely.

  “You have to speak a little louder. Some grenades did a number on my ears,” he told her.

  Walters repeated her message, this time loud enough he could just barely hear it. “I need to talk to Palacios too. I know he’s not really in charge anymore, but he and Jana are going to want to hear this.”

  Fletcher sighed and nodded. He supposed the proper chain of command had to be reinstated at some point. It took about twenty minutes to get them out of their beds and into the Major’s office where Walters waited, but at least they were both sober for once.

  “Why do we have to be bothered with this? Dixon runs the place anyway,” Jana groaned.

  “The military is launching a full investigation into the attack,” Walters said. “They’ll be here in four days to start.”

  Jana’s and Palacios’s eyes went wide, but Fletcher didn’t know enough to know what that meant.

  “Who are they sending to run it?” Palacios asked.

  Walters blew out a long breath. “You guys are about as unlucky as you can get.”

  “Not her. Anyone but her,” Jana said.

  “Wait. What? What does an investigation mean?” Fletcher asked.

  “It means the military is sending a general out here to learn every detail and secret about the attack and the events leading up to it. They do it when they think the location was being poorly managed and that resulted in undue deaths. It’s bad news. Typically all the officers and most of the personnel end up with court-martials, perhaps dishonorable discharges at best,” Walters explained.

  “It’ll be life-imprisonment if not execution under her.” Jana rubbed her temples. “Deities, why couldn’t we have all just died in the attack instead.”

  “Her?” Fletcher dared to ask. This investigation was definitely bad news. Vesi Station was a mess, and it’d been one long before the attack. Whoever was coming was not going to struggle to find problems and mishaps that did lead to undue deaths. A lot more died than should have during the attack, even Fletcher recognized that.

  Walters shook her head. “The general most notorious for harsh investigations. She’s the toughest one you could have gotten. General Hazel Anders.”

  Patreon just finished Volume 2 today, so check it out if you're interested in reading ahead :)