I lost a year to that place. Worked myself to the bone, lost an awful lot of weight, a lot of blood. My hands were raw and cracked, scuffed my limbs on every wall possible. The lights burned out occasionally, and we didn’t get replacements. Not to mention power was inconsistent, plunging the whole mine into pure darkness.

  I had to work though. Nobody else could be trusted to do my job.

  I found a point high up in the mines and began digging upwards, back towards the slavers’ camp. We could have gone the other direction, but then what? Lost in the middle of a mountain range, no food around? No, we had to go back.

  I mined slowly, quietly, just a few hits per hour, and a little more when Mara was distracting them during a party. I had to be careful when taking any rocks down, stashing them in an abandoned, dry shaft, slowly filling it up.

  My pick hit rock and left a hole that sand began to slide through. I waited until I had a clear view and looked out. I dug a little higher than I meant to, about fifteen feet above the town. That was fine though, I plugged the hole and returned home, to the once small crevice that we widened out. I waited for Mara to return.

  It took her a few hours to get back from whatever she was doing with the slavers. She emptied her pockets, adding a few more bullets to our stash.

  “I made it through.”

  She genuinely smiled, and pulled me into a tight hug.

  We cracked open a bottle of champagne she was gifted, and finished the whole thing that night.

  The next day was spent recovering. We weren't exactly the smartest yet. But the day after that? Mara and I started going around, arming everyone we could trust. There were a few snitches we couldn’t risk informing the slavers. Revealing something this big? They would have been promised an easy life, only to get thrown back down into the pit not long after, their service forgotten.

  Me, her, and a few others had pistols that she somehow managed to snag, and pulled apart ammo for the gunpowder, making makeshift explosives. Most just had whatever sharp objects they could find. Pickaxes, shivs, sharp rocks, a few knives, whatever we could get.

  We waited until a few hours before sunrise, until the night shift was dead tired, and the morning shift hadn’t started yet.

  I grabbed my pickaxe, and finished the job. The wall collapsed with just a few swings. Mara and I stepped aside, and let the others charge.

  It was a massacre. It only took a few moments for the slavers to realize what was happening. They leveled their rifles and fired into the crowd. But what did any of us have to lose? Our lives were worthless.

  The last of us jumped out of the entrance, and those with guns went next. Mara and I sprinted out last, firing as we went. We weren’t exactly accurate. Both of us were just focused on getting to cover and staying alive.

  When the slaves reached a slaver, it was an awful, well-deserved scene. They brutally tore into them. Others grabbed their rifle or pistol and began to fire. Most of them were bad shots, but it didn’t matter. It made the slavers dive for cover, buying us time to close in on them.

  Mara and I hit cover and started taking pot shots. And you know what? I didn’t think about the coyote a single time. Only thing in my head was worry for Rusty.

  We followed the rush of bodies and Mara led me into a building. It was a little barracks. None of them were trained, and they certainly weren’t clever. Several of them were running out without weapons, trying to see what the commotion was. One of them was busy trying to tie his shoes. I put an end to the people running towards us, and Mara handled everyone with the presence of mind to reach for a gun.

  We stepped in, a few of them tried to surrender.

  “Mara! What are you doing?” One of the men yelled.

  Mara shoved her pistol into her pants, drew her knife, and walked forward. I kept her covered, only firing when someone moved.

  She grabbed his hair, he yelled, and those screams turned to gurgles after she slit his throat. She spit in his face and turned away, grabbing her pistol, and lazily putting a bullet in the rest of them. There was no glee in her face. No laughter. No amusement.

  “Get some equipment.” She said through clenched teeth.

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  We grabbed vests, helmets, rifles. A few fellow slaves trickled in, and their rifles would go far.

  We stepped back outside into a warzone. There were so many bodies on the ground. You couldn’t take a step without stepping on or over someone, and only the lucky ones were dead.

  You know, it’s funny. You spend a year like I did, you don’t care what’s going to happen to you. There was no fear, no worry, no remorse when I pulled the trigger.

  “I think I understand.” I say.

  “I’m sure you would, Little Blue.”

  We worked our way through the compound, always towards the back of the riot. We let people go into houses. If they came back out, great. If not, we posted up and waited for the slavers to come out and put them down.

  “Your dog’s in there.” Mara gestured to a large building that the crowd was getting close to. I rushed to the front, Mara following and giving me cover. I burst through the door, and an impact hit my chest. I fell backwards, desperate for air. My back hit the ground, and knocked out the rest of my breath.

  Mara fired back, grabbed me by the collar, and hauled me around the corner. She kneeled over me, her rifle scanning back and forth.

  “You alive?” She asked.

  “I think so.” It hurt to talk, hurt to breathe. It hurt more knowing Rusty was in there, and I stood up.

  “Good.” She glanced around at the crowd. “Hey! Baker!” She yelled out over the gunfire, and twitched her head towards the door.

  He dutifully ran inside, only to be gunned down.

  “Guess I missed.” Mara started moving around to the side of the building, and I followed. She found her way to a window, popped up, and unloaded into the room.

  When her gun ran dry she ducked back down, reloaded, and waited. A small break in the fighting let us hear the sounds of people dying from inside.

  “Stay here. Fire when I tell you to.” She headed back to the front door, carefully poked her head in, and waited. She fired a single shot, followed by a few more. She pulled back and locked onto my eyes, giving me a small nod.

  I popped up, rifle shouldered, and took in the room. There were a few people still in there, in cover from the fire coming from the front door, their backs to me. I put them down.

  Rusty was in the corner of the room, his leash tied short to the wall. He could barely move. He looked awful.

  I ran back to the front door and headed inside. Mara followed me in. She put down those who were still breathing, and I ran up to my dog. He shrunk back and bared his teeth at me, a deep growl in his throat.

  “Hey, it’s ok Rusty.” I gave him space and crouched down, holding out my hand.

  His nose twitched, and he creeped forward, placing his nose in my hand.

  “There you go buddy.” I slowly reached towards his neck, and though he flinched back, he let me remove that awful collar. His fur was gone underneath it, and his skin was rubbed raw.

  He slowly came forward, and I sat down. He pushed into my chest, and I just held him. We took our time with our reunion.

  “Mara?” I said quietly. “Find me the man who did this.”

  “Gladly.”

  I waited while the fighting calmed down. There were just too many of us. We were all too desperate. The slavers never had a chance.

  When the door opened next, Mara was dragging the man in charge in. He had the ever-loving daylights beaten out of him. His face was barely recognizable, just a bloody pulp.He couldn’t even speak, but I looked deep in his eyes. The lids were so swollen he could barely see. I saw him pleading though, silently begging for release.

  I pulled out my pistol and put a bullet through each of his kneecaps. He took an awful long time to bleed out. I don’t even know if I felt good about it. I just felt like it was what I should do. I can honestly say I didn’t feel bad about it though.

  Mara left us there while we watched. Even after the man stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped begging, I still watched. I don’t know how long Rusty and I were there.

  Mara did eventually return though. Her rifle, my rifle these days, was in her hands. She put an extra bullet in the corpse.

  “Come on, we’re leaving.”

  I nodded and stood up. Rusty hesitated before following. I reached down and petted his head, doing my best to reassure him.

  The three of us headed back outside. I’m not sure how many people survived. People were already clearing the dead away, both ours and the slavers. We already had graves deep in the mines, the slaves were being carefully carried down the stairs, and the slavers stripped and dumped down the slope to the bottom of the lake.

  We headed to the small cavern we were left in for days, and hopped in the car.

  “Mara?” A familiar voice followed us in. Mara’s third in command, effectively. He was a good man, I’m glad he survived, just wish I remembered his name. “I saw you packing up. You can’t just leave us.”

  “Sure I can. You’re in charge now.”

  “They’re not going to follow me.”

  “That’s not my problem.”

  “We need you.” He insisted.

  “That’s not my problem.” She repeated, and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  I just offered an apologetic look and followed her inside.

  She put the car in reverse, not caring if the man moved out of the way or not. She hit the gas, and we left that place behind.

  “Here.” She reached into her waistband, pulled out my father’s pistol, and tossed it into my lap.

  “Thank you.” I grabbed it with shaking hands. It wasn't even on my mind the whole year. I just stared at it for a while, that small connection to him.

  We were silent until we left the pass. Rusty slowly relaxed, laying in my lap as I petted him. The sun rose over the desert, scorching my eyes. A year without sunlight is a long time.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Vegas.”

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