Back in the truck cab, I consult the map shoved in the glove box. I mark all of Luc’s locations while they’re still fresh in my mind. I have no choice now. I have to head to his secret fuel stash. I don’t like it. He didn’t guarantee there will be gas there, and I’ll be on empty by the time I arrive.
It’s an all-or-nothing trip.
I shift into gear and we head out. I stop a handful of times near abandoned vehicles to see if I can siphon any gas, but they’ve all been picked clean by other travelers. And there is no telling who is living inside those abandoned cars with guns at the ready.
I direct us back onto the freeway, letting my mind return to Tenebra and the Spore girl. She’d come back to life somehow—defying everything I know about the Nightmare. Proving that there’s a cure beyond Galilei’s knowledge. The Nightmare isn’t the end.
So why wouldn’t she answer me?
I understand her desire to run—I had, after all, stabbed her to death. But that was only because she’d been coming for me, or so I’d thought. I think about her claim that she and her ilk hadn’t killed Nole. Supposedly they don’t care about killing me either. I want to disbelieve her, but if she wanted me dead, she could have killed me there under the archway when I was vulnerable from her sword in my skull. Spill my blood, get my tiger to eat me.
Instead, she walked away and acted as though I was the darkness.
It takes 20 minutes to reach the part of town where Luc’s fuel stash is supposed to be, and my meter blinks empty. I pass a few scattered lights. Not a good sign. If people live here they’re already watching me. That means the fuel is probably guarded. Or gone.
I’m not feeling up for another battle. I’m lucky I wasn’t blasted to smithereens by the rifleman at the storage unit. I reload my revolver. Six whole shots. I park the truck and The Fire Swamp along an empty street—easily accessible if I need to make a break for it.
Luc sent me here. I have to trust that he set things up so I could get gas without dying.
I’ve hardly taken a step when a child’s voice says, “Icarus?”
I freeze for a moment, then relax as a little girl with bobbed brown hair steps out of the shadows. A boy is at her side, an inch or so taller and far more stern than his age should allow, but neither child looks older than 8.
“Hi,” I say gently so as not to startle them. “Yes, I’m Icarus. Or you can call me Cain.”
“The Emperor said you’d come!” the girl says. “We’ve been keeping your gas safe.” She looks behind me like I might have a backpack or something. “I’m really hungry, but I’ve been patient!”
“We’ve all been patient,” a firm voice behind me states, followed by the cock of a gun.
I slowly lift my hands, my revolver tucked tight in my belt.
“I’m not here to hurt anybody.” I dare a glance over my shoulder. A man, late forties, holds a rifle at the ready, but he doesn’t look like the type who’d shoot. Casual tennis shoes, jeans, and a T-shirt that says Dad Beast on it with some dumbbells beneath it.
I cautiously turn. “I’m with Luc. The Emperor.”
“I knew it!” A girl of around twelve pops out from around the corner. “You’re finally here!”
“Get back inside, Becca.”
“But, Daddy—”
“Inside.”
She steps back into the shadows, but her silhouette remains visible. She doesn’t go back inside, which likely means I’m safe. This guy is protecting his daughter, not trying to rob me.
“I’m here for a few cans of fuel,” I say. “That’s it.”
He gestures to the gun in my belt. “Drop it and you can come inside.”
“We can both leave our weapons out here,” I counter. Doesn’t he know that no one drops their weapons during an apocalypse?
“Leave it in your belt then, or I will shoot.”
I follow him to a thick, dented metal door. The two little kids trail after me, but the man stops. “Not you two. Stay out here.”
“But you said—”
“I said stay out here.” They don’t argue, almost like they’ve had a similar exchange with him before.
I hazard a guess. “They’re not yours?”
“They’re lackeys of the supposed Nightmare Emperor.”
“Lackeys?” I swallow a laugh. “They’re children.”
“I don’t care. They’re not allowed near me or my family. They’re only here to make sure you find this place and get what you need. They told me enough. I can take over from here.”
He makes it sound like he’s doing all of us a favor, but I can read between the lines. This guy is still trapped in the Tunnel, and he learned from these kids that there’s hidden fuel. He set up his own camp.
Now he’s in charge.
His daughter Becca skips inside ahead of us. It’s odd seeing something so cheery as skipping when her father threatened my life moments ago.
The man walks across the great expanse of a cold concrete space. The opposite side of the room holds the first semblance of warmth. Some lit candles, piles of blankets, a little bookshelf, and four cots—one of which holds a sleeping woman and another acting as a seat for a young man.
To the right, in the corner, rest several gas cans. I catch a whiff of their contents.
“Help us with these, Zaff.”
