They followed me back to where I’d left my van. I walked a slow circle around it, eyes scanning for bullet holes or shattered glass. I didn’t see any. Nothing cracked. Nothing punctured. I hadn’t even considered that when I’d parked so far forward in the convoy.

  Thinking it through, they wouldn’t have wasted rounds on unoccupied vehicles unless someone was using one for cover. Police cruisers and the Strykers were another matter entirely.

  I headed back toward the intersection and pulled my phone out, snapping a few pictures. The State Patrol car. Scorched bricks. Shattered windows. I made sure to get the upper level of the old Odd Fellows building…especially one of the 1912 stone block that had become the Wrong Right’s headquarters. Pockmarked stone. Broken glass glittering on the sidewalk like frost.

  I didn’t really know why I was taking the pictures. I just did it.

  Leaning against my van while I waited for the others, I scrolled through them. A few frames caught human shapes under blankets and tarps. Bodies. I looked away as sirens wailed from the east…more police, more ambulances. The sound echoed between buildings, rising and falling like something alive.

  I wondered if I was in shock. Or some kind of post-combat state. Numb fit how I felt the best. Everything felt distant, muted, like the world had cotton packed around it. I should talk to Bhaarrt about it. He’d been in combat before.

  “Humans cope with trauma in strange ways.” I read that once. “Everyone doesn’t process it the same way. PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” The thoughts came unbidden. “A lot of people are going to have that after today. Especially the ones who were mind-controlled into fighting. Maybe I should talk to Bailey too?”

  Another thought pushed its way in.

  “I wonder how Blaze is doing. She didn’t seem that bothered by having died…or by me causing it?”

  I shook my head, trying to dislodge the spiral. “Focus. Figure out what comes next. Until someone tells me they need me.”

  Mentally, I started listing tasks. Get MathMamm and NiceIce home. HealBot too. Yoshi and Falstaff would probably go with their parents. I couldn’t think of anyone else who needed a ride…either home or back to the farm where we’d staged.

  And Ingrid. I needed to thank her again. For listening when I talked through what might happen with Blaze…and for bringing her back from the dead.

  I wasn’t military, but I’d bet money the GRA would want an after-action report. What happened. What worked. What didn’t. What skills and spells were used. How classes synergized. How they failed.

  Pulling my notebook from my pouch, I flipped it open to an empty page, and started jotting bullet points. Later I’d add words and structure. For now, I'd just capture ideas and impressions.

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Opening the driver’s door wide, I sat on the edge of the doorway, my back against my seat. The side of it was cool against my back. Not comfortable, but manageable.

  That kept me occupied until I heard, “Will?”

  My head snapped up. The notebook and pen fell to the ground forgotten as I was on my feet in an instant.

  It was Blaze.

  We started a few feet apart and met in the middle, arms wrapping tight around each other. Her mouth found mine, and the kiss was long, desperate, but grounding. The smell of smoke, gunpowder, and ozone faded behind her.

  “How do you feel?” I asked when we finally came up for air. “Did talking to Bailey help?”

  She nodded. “It did. When can we leave? I want to go home.”

  “What about your car? We can’t leave it here.”

  “Viviane has the key. She’ll bring it back. I’m not up to driving.”

  I squeezed her tighter. “I get it. I need to take a few people home first…the ones I was clearing spawns with this morning. I was about to head back looking for you when I got your message. Can you wait that long?”

  “I can.” She exhaled slowly. “I should sit down. Bailey said to rest as much as possible. Ingrid too. She’s making a doctor’s appointment for me tomorrow. And my boss is going to want everything documented.” Her mouth twisted. “Everything.”

  “Bureaucracy,” I said, letting out a short laugh. “They love their paperwork.”

  She nodded, and finally…the smile I’d been hoping for appeared. “That they do. I really need to sit down.”

  I walked her around the van and opened the front passenger door. She climbed in and left it open, the breeze stirring her burgundy hair.

  I went looking for my riders…and whoever was in charge now.

  Two Strykers slammed their rear doors shut almost in unison behind me. Their engines rumbled to life, diesel vibrating through the pavement. I watched them roll down the street to an open area across the intersection and halt.

  “Will. You have a moment?” I heard a familiar voice behind me.

  I turned. Vaneski.

  “What’s up?”

  “Can you give us a few words about what happened? How you feel?”

  “How I feel about killing someone?” I asked, cutting in. I didn’t want to talk to her right now. I wanted to get Blaze home.

  “I saw you hit someone with a spell. How did you feel when you killed someone?”

  Her face drained of color.

  “I…I don’t know if they died.”

  “You should have checked. Airmann said both of you have been joining spawn fights. You don’t stop fighting until they’re dead, do you?”

  “Uh…no. No, of course not.” She stumbled backward.

  “This wasn’t any different. This was a battle. You fight to win…even if winning means killing people. The next time…and there will be a next time, the way things are going. Once they know it can be done, someone else will try it. What if they succeed? Then what do you do?”

  Her face was chalk-white beneath her makeup.

  “Van?” Airmann spoke for the first time while the camera was rolling. “He died. I checked when we passed him. He was dead.”

  She looked even more stunned. I wasn’t sure myself until I met Airmann’s eyes and raised an eyebrow. He nodded. I nodded back.

  “Take care of her,” I said quietly. “Maybe we can talk later. Right now, I’ve got people to get home.”

  I paused. “To answer your question…it hurts. A lot. Afterward. But of the ones I know I killed, all but one deserved it. What they did was no better than the spawns programmed to kill…and be killed.”

  I turned away.

  “Take care of her,” I added to Airmann as I walked off, scanning for the rest of my people and a way to get my van out of where it sat. I’d probably have to go forward before I could go back. And then maybe north out of town rather than back on 318.

  Read 15 chapters ahead.