CHAPTER 14

  Survivor

  Bash sat on an overturned crate while Patrick worked on sewing up his wounded shoulder.

  "Ow! Jesus!" Bash hissed through clenched teeth.

  "Hold still."

  "Easy for you to say. You're not the one getting sewn up like a Halloween costume."

  Patrick ignored him, pulling the thread taut. The wound on Bash's shoulder closed, ugly but functional. Then he moved to the cut across his ribs, packing it with cloth before wrapping a bandage around Bash's torso.

  "How'd you learn to do this?" Bash asked, watching Patrick work. "This isn't exactly basic first aid."

  Patrick grunted. "Guard."

  "Come on, man. This isn't part of the Guard job description."

  Patrick's expression didn't change. “Guards get hurt. So do the people we protect. Good skill to have."

  Patrick cinched the bandage tight. Too tight.

  "OW! What the hell!?"

  "Has to be tight," Patrick said flatly. "Stops the bleeding."

  Bash was about to complain again when Luis appeared and slapped him on the back. Hard. Right on the fresh bandage.

  "FUCK!" Bash lurched forward, nearly falling off the crate.

  Luis spoke seriously, “Come on, I need your help.”

  Patrick tied off the bandage with a final, merciless tug. “You two go, I’ll stay here and keep watch.”

  Bash slid off the crate and gingerly touched his shoulder. "Sadists. Both of you." He muttered, following Luis across the camp.

  Luis entered a storage tent and Bash followed.

  Air rolled out and hit Bash in the face. Hot. Stale. Human. The smell alone made his eyes water.

  The inside wasn’t storage. Not really. Four cages took up most of the space, big enough to stand in, shoved tight together with barely a lane between them. Thick bars. Heavy locks. Old straw ground into dirt. A bucket in one corner made Bash’s eyes sting.

  Faces shifted behind the bars. Not skeletons. Not broken. Just used up. Dry lips. Sunken cheeks. Eyes that tracked movement with the careful focus of people who had been waiting for the wrong kind of visitor.

  Luis muttered, “Easy. We’re getting you out.”

  Bash didn’t answer. He went straight to the first lock and grabbed it with both hands.

  He yanked. It held.

  He swore under his breath, adjusted his grip, put his weight into it. Metal squealed, ugly and loud in the close space.

  The lock finally gave with a snap.

  He moved to the next. Same deal. Same resistance. Same noise. His shoulder barked in protest, fresh stitches pulling tight. He pushed through it anyway. He broke that lock too.

  Third cage. Fourth cage. One after another. No finesse. No key. Just brute force.

  Nobody rushed out. Nobody screamed. They took slow steps, hands half-raised like they expected a blow for moving wrong. One man stumbled, caught himself on the cage frame, swallowed dry, eyes fixed on the open flap like it might vanish.

  “Water,” a woman croaked. The word scraped out of her.

  Luis was already backing up, waving them toward the light. “Over there. Supplies. Slow.”

  Bash stood and watched them file past him, not sure where to put his hands. Four empty cages sat behind him, doors hanging open.

  There were eight of them. All NPCs, based on the metadata floating in Bash's vision. Slightly malnourished, and downcast eyes, but alive.

  Once they reached Patrick, he had some of them guard the bandits as he checked over each of them. He moved with quiet efficiency, checking injuries, handing out water, speaking in low tones. The man had a presence that seemed to settle people. Calm without being cold.

  Bash watched from a distance, not sure what to do. This part, the aftermath, the human wreckage, wasn't something his skills could optimize. There was no overlay for trauma. No probability line for grief.

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  Luis led Bash to the largest tent next, expression shifting to something grimmer. "So... I wasn't fully honest."

  "Ohhh, no." Bash quipped. "I'm not interested in you like that, okay? We're just friends."

  "No, please, listen." Luis's voice went serious. "Inside this tent is some really messed-up shit. Way worse than what you just saw. Please just help me, and I'll explain it all later."

  Bash frowned but nodded.

  Luis lifted the tent flap, and light outlined a much smaller cage and the figure inside.

  A woman, an Upload woman, was folded in on herself, knees to chest, arms twisted behind her back. Ropes bound her wrists together, and bruises marked her arms and face.

  Bash moved fast without thinking. Two steps, a quick yank on the lock, breaking easily from his practice.

  The cage door swung open, and without thinking, he reached down to pick her up.

  A HUGE mistake.

  She lunged, teeth sinking into his outstretched hand.

  "Oh, shit!" Bash yelped.

  Luis rushed forward. "Nora, STOP!"

  She released Bash's hand and whipped her legs around in a scissor kick that swept Luis's feet out from under him. He hit the ground hard, air punching out of his lungs with a wet oof.

  Before Bash could process what just happened, she flipped up to her feet, hands still bound behind her back. His brain stuttered. Dancer's build. That explained the acrobatics.

  While he was distracted, she pivoted and kicked him in the shin.

  "WHY?!" Bash screamed, hopping backward.

  Nora didn't answer. She circled him, movements sharp and predatory, eyes locked onto him. Every muscle tense, ready to strike again.

  Luis groaned from the ground. "Wait! Stop! We're here to save you!"

  She kicked him in the ribs without looking away from Bash.

  Bash threw his hands up, back peddling towards the tent flap. "Okay, okay! There's the door! We're not stopping you! Just stop hurting us!"

  Her lips curled back in a snarl. "You smell like a Player."

  Bash blinked. "Okay, weird! But seriously!"

  "Why the hell should I believe you?" Her voice was raw, sharp as broken glass.

  Luis wheezed, clutching his side. "Because it's me. Luis. I'm the one who gave you extra bread, remember?" He pushed himself up on one elbow, grimacing. "Please, just listen, I'll untie you."

  Bash nodded quickly, still holding his hands. "Yeah. And then you can go, or stay, or whatever!"

  Nora's eyes darted between them. Really looked at Luis this time, searching his face. Something in her expression shifted, recognition replacing the rage.

  Her shoulders dropped half an inch.

  "Fine," she said, voice tight. "Untie me. But if you try anything, I'll do worse."

  Luis exhaled shakily and got to his feet, moving slowly toward her with both hands raised.

  "Easy, amiga. I got you."

  He circled behind her, fingers working at the knots. The ropes fell away, and she brought her arms forward, rubbing at the raw marks on her wrists.

  Bash kept his distance, gesturing towards the outside. "There are supplies. Take what you want."

  Nora ignored Bash, turning to Luis. "Show me."

  Emerging from the tent together, the light was fading quickly, and the air began to cool.

  Luis, still doubled over and holding his stomach, guided Nora toward the supply tent while Bash hung back. She grabbed a bundle of clothes and other items, then disappeared behind another tent.

  The image of those bruises, those bloody wrists, wouldn't leave his mind. He had shown mercy to the bandits earlier by letting them surrender. That felt like a mistake now.

  He turned and strode toward the bandits. They sat in a loose cluster near the fire, unbound, while Patrick and the other freed prisoners stood guard.

  "Chain them together!" His skill altered his voice to guarantee obedience.

  The NPC’s he had freed earlier moved at once, scrambling for rope. Patrick looked over at Bash, then back toward where Nora had gone. His jaw tightened. He gave a single nod and turned to direct the work, helping bind the bandits' wrists together, knots cinched tight.

  Patrick inspected the work, testing each knot with a firm tug. "We will march to Londonland in the morning. There, they will receive justice."

  Bash moved beside him, hissing. "Or I could just kill them all now."

  Patrick's hand fell onto Bash's shoulder, turning him to lock eyes. The older man said nothing, but his face made it clear: he understood rage, but he also understood regret.

  Bash broke eye contact and lowered his head. The rage slowly began to fade, replaced by another layer of depression.

  Luis joined them by the fire, and the three men settled down to wait.

  Bash found himself staring at where Nora had gone, half-expecting to hear footsteps heading in the opposite direction. She could walk away right now, and he wouldn't blame her.

  Looking over at Luis, Bash asked, "So, what the hell was that?" The question landed somewhere between serious and sarcastic.

  Luis visibly tensed, eyeing Bash. "Listen... I know... I should have told you from the start, but I didn't want to give you the wrong impression."

  "Well... I have to say that worked out about as well as Carl's retirement plan."

  Luis gulped.

  Patrick spoke up. "Start with the truth."

  Nodding, Luis began. "So everything I told you is true, but I left out the part where Carl was my boss."

  Bash nodded. "I knew that the second you started talking shit about the guy. No one throws that much shade unless it's political or personal."

  Sighing, Luis continued. "Right... So the point is, I didn't think you would have helped me if you knew."

  Patrick grunted. "We would have."

  Luis just looked at the ground. Tears formed at the edges of his eyes, choked by obvious shame.

  Night had fully settled by the time Nora emerged. She was neatly dressed, and her hair had been cut short. The bruises were still there, but the filth was gone, and with it, some of the despair.

  She walked to the fire and sat down without a word.

  The silence stretched. Bash shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Patrick, then Luis. Nobody seemed to know what to say. He'd faced down raiders and bandits, exploited the system, but sitting across from him was a different kind of violence, one he had no clever hack for.

  Finally, Bash cleared his throat. "So, uh... what's the story?"

  Nora stared into the flames. "Maximus."

  Bash perked up. "Oh, I know that guy. Total prick."

  Her eyes flicked to him. Cold. Hard.

  Bash gulped and shut his mouth, mentally kicking himself. Great job, idiot. Really nailed the sensitivity training with that one.

  She continued, voice flat. "I knew him before this hell. Back in the real world. Rich guy." She paused. "As you said, a prick."

  Patrick frowned. "So why'd you sign a contract then?"

  "I didn't." Nora's jaw tightened. "Never signed anything."

  Luis muttered something in Spanish, crossing himself.

  Bash leaned forward, needing to confirm. "Wait, so Maximus paid the Shard to kidnap you? And they just... forced you here?"

  Nora nodded once.

  She wasn't an Upload who'd signed on the dotted line. She was stolen.

  Bash couldn't fix this. Couldn't rewind it or exploit it away. All he could offer was what he had.

  "Listen, we can't help you get your old life back. But, me and the boys here... have a suicide pact to take down Maximus." He met her eyes. "If you want, you can join us."

  Nora's stare was fierce. "Count on it."