“Just a bit further…,” the scout grunted to himself, the advanced filtration mask causing his voice to sound synthesized.

       Percy’s 21-year-old mind had always imagined the sound was similar to a robot’s voice, like those he read about in novels and comic books. Although it made him sound like a machine, it was a lifesaver. Surprisingly comfortable, electronic AFMs were lined with padding that sealed to the wearer’s face and prevented them from smelling anything other than clean air. Sensors in the mask constantly sent updates to paired tech goggles worn by the user, alerting them of particles in the air around them. The natural atmosphere in the US still carried a sulfuric stench, although the data Percy had seen indicated that it was improving.

       Dillon had always suggested they continue to wear the masks until the UN stated that the natural air was safe to breathe again. Dillon, the young man thought. A brief wave of sadness and anger washed over Percy. Swallowing it, he came to a stop. He had arrived at the checkpoint.

       Checking his surroundings, he loosened the shoulder straps to the sled behind him. One look at his Chrono confirmed the time, and the scout gave himself a mental pat on the back. Still on schedule, but I do need to rest, he thought, kneeling on the roadside.

       "Only for a minute," he muttered.

       The "checkpoint" was a fallen, dilapidated billboard near Providence Highway. On the board, Discount Depot’s 22nd Century slogan, “We Are Here For You,” had been vandalized, the words “For You” being violently scratched out. We are here, Percy thought. So true…. 

        The sign meant the scout was almost home and stirred a deep sense of relief in his being. Not everyone was so fortunate to have a job at Discount Depot when the eruption happened. The franchise’s employees had formed a coalition of sorts within days, vowing to take care of those who were part of the Discount Depot Family. Supersavers and Econobuy had tried something similar, but EconoBuy had fractured into smaller groups mere months after forming. The Supersavers Alliance then decided to join forces with Discount Depot to stockpile resources, but that was long ago, and those resources were long gone. Even so, many of those Supersavers Alliance-Discount Depot (SADD) Coalitions had grown to become close-knit groups of families and extended families, with Percy’s DD-Providence being one such Coalition.

        Removing his tech goggles and knit cap, Percy dusted off the hat. As he did, the young man felt the all too familiar hunger pains begin again in his stomach. Percy eyed the cap fondly. It was one of the few positive things the scout had left. The hat had belonged to his father, so it quickly had become the young man’s favorite. His dad’s initials marked the grey interior, the black ink of a permanent marker still visible after all these years, and the navy-blue exterior was dark from continuous wear. Though it was over a decade old, it was in excellent condition. The scout’s military-issue thermal parka, pants, gloves, and boots were also in good repair, but even they didn’t receive the same care from their wearer. Percy’s stomach ached again. He had not eaten in days. I feel you, he acknowledged. Don’t worry. There will be food tonight.

        As he rested, Percy recalled the dramatic events of the morning.

​
 

        The inside of the abandoned convenience store looked like it had been ravaged multiple times. The shelves were bare and, judging by the layers of dust on them, had been that way for some time.

        Never stop a search without cresting the next hill. You never know when it could be hiding a gold mine, Percy thought, the sound of his mentor’s deep voice resounding through his head.

        The scout stood at the front of the store and took in the scene. A long streak of dried blood smeared the floor from behind the counter to the broken glass of the front windows. However, Percy hadn’t seen a body anywhere. “Scavengers…,” he mused with a shake of his head. “Sorry, Dillon. I don’t think there are any gold mines left.”

         Percy pressed a button on the side of his tech goggles, saving the last five minutes of everything he had seen to its memory drive, and checked the PL-1 pistol on his hip. Finding everything in order, the scout began his trek back to Walpole. It’s colder this morning than yesterday, he thought.

         As he walked, the frozen, dry ground crunched underneath his boots. The tundra-like terrain of Post-Yellowstone North America had still not recovered from the blast, and it was almost Winter again. Another swing and a miss. The harshest conditions of the year are around the corner, and I still don’t have enough food saved, Percy thought as he put distance between himself and the store.

         An hour and a half later, Percy reached a clearing as snow fell in large, wet flakes. He looked West toward the Appalachians, spotting a few snow-covered evergreens with roots so deep they were just too stubborn to die. It had been years since the last acid rain, but most plant life was still trying to overcome the poisoned soil. Although scouts hadn’t seen ash in the Boston area for years, Percy often let his imagination wander when it came to those locales closer to the blast site. Was there still ash on the ground in the kill zone? Wyoming, Montana, and every other place close to the supervolcano had taken the brunt of the impact when it erupted.

         A gust of wind from the north made a half-hearted attempt to knock the scout off his feet, drawing his eyes to the northern sky. The storm he spotted hours earlier was slowly crawling across the horizon. Percy knew it was likely heavy snow, but nothing was guaranteed. Weather had been highly unpredictable for a long time, since before the “Big Boom.” Still, I’ll take snow over ash any day, the scout thought. Next stop, the hotel. 

         When Percy finally reached the dilapidated hotel near the old parish, he heard voices. He didn’t want a confrontation, but the scout had to find shelter so he could rest. If scavengers were in the hotel, he would have to make a choice. Percy disliked killing people, but he had been trained to deal with scavengers quickly and with lethality. He had heard stories of scavengers forming raiding parties and storming outposts, some of which were more horror than tragedy. It was no secret that some scavenger pods had resorted to cannibalism. Other stories painted them as conniving, getting accepted into an open-minded Coalition and then turning its members against each other. All in all, they were dangerous people, no matter how you looked at them. There were very few who could be trusted, and fewer still who made it into a Coalition.

          Peeking around the side of a building, Percy drew his pistol and scanned the entrance to the hotel. Just a hooded guard at the door, he thought. If there was only one sentry, there was a good chance there weren’t that many inside.

          I hope.

          Staying out of sight, Percy snuck to the back of the hotel. Finding a broken door, he stepped inside. Percy made his way past a pair of elevators, moving slowly and methodically, as he didn’t want his hunger and exhaustion to allow him to miss a threat. At the end of the hallway, he stopped and slid his right eye around the corner, quickly jerking his head back. He had seen movement. Daring to peak again, Percy noticed a pair of open double doors off the main lobby. A dim light came from inside.

          Deciding to make his move, Percy slid around the corner, tactically making his way toward the room. Just outside the doorway, he took a deep breath and turned the corner, raising his gun. Only one scavenger was in the room, and their back was to him. “Hands up!” the scout shouted.

          The demand startled the scavenger, who immediately turned to face him-standing before Percy was a narrow-shouldered man with a big, thick beard who looked to be in his mid-50s. As Percy was about to speak again, he heard footsteps approaching from the lobby.

          “This isn’t fair,” a male voice said. 

          Percy turned just in time to find the hooded scavenger he had seen out front come into view. “Why do…,” the man began to ask.

          Upon seeing the scout, his eyes went wide just as Percy’s boot landed in his chest. The man landed on his back just outside the doorway.

          A battle cry filled the room as the older man behind Percy charged and tackled him to the ground. He hit the floor face-first, and everything went black.

​

          When Percy’s eyes fluttered open, he could hear two voices. Shaking himself awake, he quickly realized he was still in the hotel, although he wasn’t sure which room. He sat on the floor with his back to the wall, his wrists bound under his knees to his ankles with rope. His weapons, mask, pack, and parka were all nowhere to be seen, but there was a wooden table in front of him that he could not see over. Maybe they were there. Percy pretended he was still unconscious as the voices of the two men from earlier came closer. Entering the room, the men were arguing.

           “We should kill him,” the older, gruff voice said.

           “Not until we see what he knows,” came the reply from a younger voice. “Besides, we need him to show us how to use this stuff!”

           “I told you I can figure it out myself. I don’t need one of them teaching me how to do anything!” retorted the older man.

           “Bah,” the younger replied.

           Percy maintained his charade until footsteps approached, and the sudden sting of a hard slap hard across his face snapped his eyes open. The scout feigned surprise.

           “Wakey, wakey,” said the hooded scavenger. The man's eyes were smiling with evil delight behind his mask. “What’s the important tech you had on your arm?”

           “I don’t know what you mean,” Percy responded.

           The assailant’s eyes smiled again, a misleading gesture, as a fist promptly landed on Percy’s right jaw. “Wrong answer,” the scavenger said. “Try again.”

           Great, I’m going to get tortured by an idiot. Percy smiled back at his assailant before answering, “You know. I’m famished. Maybe I could think better if you gave me a snack.”

           The scavenger clearly did not like the scout’s coyness, as he punched him two more times, the last blow busting Percy’s lip. “I’ll ask you one more time,” the hooded man said. “What...is...it...for?”

           A bit dazed, Percy was just about to tell him where he could shove it when the older scavenger said, “I got it!”

           “What?” both Percy and his interrogator exclaimed.

           “I got it,” the other scavenger said again with a big grin on his grimy face. “I told you I made that hacker from Boston teach me some things before I slit his throat.”

           Both of Percy's captors laughed, the one interrogating him turning to face his compatriot. “You tricky bastard! I guess you weren’t lying!” he exclaimed. With a chuckle, he turned back to Percy, “I guess I don’t need you anymore after all.” He grabbed Percy’s PL-1 pistol off the table and pointed the advanced muzzle directly at the scout's face.

           Percy's mind raced.

           “What the...what did we find? You have to see this!” the older man exclaimed. “Come here! Look!”

           “I’ll be right back,” spat Percy's interrogator. He joined his friend halfway across the room to examine whatever the other man had discovered on the wrist monitor.

           Shit! I have to get that back! Percy thought. The wrist monitors were multi-functional. Not only did they monitor vitals and function as chronos, but they were also connected to the SADD Satellite Network so that Coalitions could find their way to each other for trade and bartering. If the scavengers figured out how to use the network and became organized, it would put countless Coalitions across the nation in danger of being raided. If only my ankles and wrists weren’t tied, Percy thought.

           My ankles and wrists!

           Percy had never had to use it, but his boots came with a hidden blade compartment. Sliding his right heel toward his hand, he could just touch the sole of his boot. He felt for a soft place in the rubber and pressed as hard as he could. There was a low click, and the handle of something akin to a shiv popped out. Grabbing it, he immediately went to work, the razor-sharp, cutting edge slicing its way through his bindings.

           “Oh man, this planet just got a whole lot sexier!" exclaimed the hooded scavenger. "They'll make us rich for turning in this info. What else is on there?” Whatever they were seeing, they could not be allowed to get that information to anyone else.

           Percy’s wrists came free of each other. He quickly did the same with his ankles, putting more muscle into the blade. The rope split, but he pulled it tight, holding it in place. He would only get one shot at this.

           “I don’t know. There’s too much here,” the old scavenger admitted, looking at Percy. “Finish killing him, and we can go through this later.”

           The hooded scavenger nodded and walked back to Percy, his eyes smiling the entire time. Percy watched as the muzzle of his pistol again pointed at his face. Don't give him time to gloat!

           Releasing the rope, Percy knocked the gun upward and launched himself into his assailant's torso. The scavenger pulled the trigger, but the shot went high. Moving with speed only a trained professional can possess, Percy stabbed the shiv into the man’s right arm. The scavenger screamed in pain, his grip on the pistol loosening. Percy wrestled the weapon away and fired three rounds into the man’s chest, sending him falling back onto the table.

           The older scavenger ran by Percy, screaming in fear as he tried to escape with the valuable device. Grabbing his mask from the table and placing it on his face, the scout took off after him. Percy caught the older man easily. Tackling him to the ground, Percy watched as his wrist monitor came free and slid across the tile floor out of reach. The scavenger rolled over to face the young man and received the pommel of Percy’s pistol to his nose. Percy put his knee on the older man’s chest and pointed the PL-1 at his pale, dirt-smeared face. 

           “Wait!” cried the scavenger, putting his hands up. The blood from his broken nose began to run down his cheeks. The dark circles under his eyes looked as deep as dried lake beds. “I’ve been gathering for weeks! Take what you want! Just don’t kill me!”

           Percy recognized they were back in front of the room where he had made his initial stand-off and looked inside. Everything had happened so fast before that he hadn’t realized what was on the large oval table.

           That’s not possible.

           Slowly standing, Percy just stared at the table. It was covered in canned goods: beans, hash, vegetables; it was all there. Where had this scrawny man gotten all of this? Percy had passed this hotel multiple times in the past month and had never seen any indication someone was here. He shook his head and clenched his jaw.

           Percy looked back at the man still lying on the floor. “What is your name?” he asked, his synthesized voice sounding sinister.

           “James,” replied the man.

           “Thank you, James. I’m sorry,” stated the scout and pulled the trigger. The muted sound of the plasma-coated round didn’t echo. No other scavengers had come to James's rescue, which only meant one thing. Percy was, once again, alone. He let out a heavy sigh.

           Damn it.

           Just because there were no more scavengers didn’t mean they couldn’t show up. Feeling a sense of urgency wash over him, Percy quickly retrieved all his weapons and gear, plus a little something extra. He felt much better once his monitor was back where it was supposed to be. Percy then returned to the room with the goods, filling his backpack with as much canned food as possible. The scout could not believe he had found such a cache.

           After he finished, Percy hefted the backpack over his shoulders. It had been months since he had this much weight in his pack, and it was a good feeling. Percy took one more look around and stopped. There, in the back, was an old sled with some sort of shoulder harness attached to it. He looked at the table. If there are more, they'll come looking for who killed their men, he thought. Is a sled too much to risk?

           Realizing he couldn't rationally walk away from what was in front of him, Percy loaded the sled and pulled it to the entrance. Going back in, the scout went upstairs to a room he had used before. Retrieving a full propane tank Percy had hidden there on a previous journey, he placed the tank in the room with the canned goods and opened the valve. If I have to starve, they have to starve too.

           Putting a bit of distance between himself and the front of the building, Percy finally stopped and turned. Raising the extra weapon he had grabbed from the room with all his gear, a rifle, he looked down scope. After finding the corner of the propane tank in his sights, Percy pulled the trigger. At first, a small explosion destroyed the conference room, but there were apparently other explosive devices in the building. Immediately after the initial blast, a much larger explosion followed it that knocked Percy to the ground, enveloping him with heat and sending a plume of black smoke high into the air.

           Shit, Percy thought. That figures. I better get moving.

​

           That had been several hours ago, and Percy had not seen or heard any sign that someone was following him. However, the scout knew he would feel much better when he got back to the place he had called "home" his entire life. No more time to waste, Percy thought and rose to depart.

​

           Arriving at the back entrance, Percy carefully stepped over the trip-wire he had in place. Much of the warehouse was booby-trapped. It was the only way he felt he could stay here. After getting the sled and its contents through a loading door, Percy went into his room and sat at the desk. This room had once been Dillon’s office, but with a bit of rearranging and a few additions, it now felt like Percy’s.

           “Damn, what a day,” he said to himself, removing his mask. The custom filtration system that Dillon had installed made the office air safe to breathe. 

           After eating dinner, Percy sat rubbing his jaw. It was beginning to ache now that he was out of the cold. Over on the corner of the desk, Percy saw the projection disk sitting there, calling to him. He hadn’t watched it since the day he found it under a pile of bedding. It had only been a month since he lost all of DD-Providence to an attack, including the people he loved most. Despite what happened today, he was still convinced it was another Coalition. Too clean. Too efficient to be anything else.

           Pulling it over, he turned it on. A blue, three-dimensional projection of Dillon’s head appeared. “Percy,” the image said in Dillon’s voice. “If you’re watching this, that worst-case scenario I was training you for has happened. You need to know that you are my best scout. I’ve wanted to tell you for months, but somehow, no time has ever seemed like the right one. Hopefully, I’ve told you that by the time you see this. As of this recording, you just had your eighteenth birthday. You’re a man now! Hell, you’ve been a man for years, but listen. I don’t want you to try to wage a one-man war, son. I want you to get your ass to Boston Harbor and get on one of those ships to Europe. You have the skills to stay and survive if you so choose, but neither your mother nor I want you to have to do that if there is no need. Take your parents’ dog tags and head for the harbor.”

           Percy looked toward his bed, seeing his mother and father’s dog tags hanging there. The recording played on, “With both of them gone, you'll qualify for the Orphan Act, which allows people under 25 who've lost their families to start new lives on the lifeboat space station. I hope our deaths won't weigh too heavily on you. Be mindful of your mental state and properly grieve when you can. There will undoubtedly be tests you must pass to secure passage off-planet. You can do it. We both believe in you. Jane?”

           There was a pause, and then his mother’s face appeared next to Dillon’s as if she had leaned down over his shoulder. Percy clenched his jaw, trying to keep the tears down.

           “Hey, Percy!” she said. She was smiling from ear to ear. “I love you, honey! You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I am so proud of the man you’ve become! Trust your instincts, sweetheart. They could very well save your life. Take care. I’ll always be with you.”

           After this, Percy’s mom disappeared.

          “She’s right, kiddo,” Dillon added. “You’ve got what it takes. The decision is yours. Trust your gut, and no matter what you choose, we love you more than anything. You know. I knew your dad. He would be proud of you. Hell, I’m proud of you. I’ve always tried to treat you like you were my own. I hope I succeeded at that. I love you, son. Sgt. Fisher, signing off.”

           With that, the recorder blanked out and turned itself off. Percy just sat and stared at the empty space where the projection had been for what felt like an eternity. The tears he had been fighting back now streamed down his cold cheeks. Percy had found this video the day after burying everyone, and it still left him feeling like someone had ripped his heart out.  It was like there was a void inside him, and nothing he did could fill it.

            Initially, Percy thought this place would never be home again and that a new life was what he needed. However, that was before he noticed one of the dead attackers had been using a PL-1 pistol, a weapon only used by Coalition soldiers. Realizing someone had set them up made the decision easy. The store he checked this morning had been a supposed hideout of a group of rogue Supersavers Alliance members. Nothing had been there, but he was getting closer. He could feel it.

           I need sleep.

           Moving to the bed, he thought of his grandma, a strong woman who had lived through a lot. She used to tell him that a person should know who they are at the end of the day. “If you forget who you are, that means you’ve lost your way,” she would say, “and that only leads to death. Do you know who you are, honey?”

           Percy’s thoughts turned to James. Who was the villain in a world where everyone just wanted to survive? Percy used to feel guilt when he killed other humans. Now, it was something more like irritation. He didn’t know if that made him a villain or just jaded, but he did know that it was unlikely James found all of that food by himself. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like everything on that table looked like a payment. SADD Coalitions used to pay scavenger groups for information on other scavengers. They were also known to be good sources of intel on the area around where they camped. What info had James given, and who paid him? Was it related to whoever attacked DD-Providence?

           Percy’s thoughts returned to his grandma. His response to her question had changed since Dillon’s death. The loss had made the young man realize exactly what Dillon meant to him and who he really was inside. Tomorrow, he would go looking for the rest of James’s Scavenger group. He needed answers. Closing his eyes, he made one final mental statement before falling asleep.

           I am Percival Fisher.