The prisoner in the cell was a young woman and had proved to be a tough one to wrangle. But their boss from Harrison told them she’d be valuable. She would draw out the ‘rebels’ he had called them. Far as they were concerned, they were nothing but bandits. Lowlifes. Good for nothing. Nothing but a menace to the entire Harrison territory and the good people of the town of Jericho.

One man, wearing a black vest, matching trousers, and a white shirt peered out at the driving rain. He was a stout man, thickly built, with a well-trimmed beard on his face. The gold star on his chest denoted his status as a Deputy to the Sheriff of Jericho.

“Pourin’ down somethin’ fierce out there,” he said.

His partner, a tall, thin man dressed in brown, looked back to the prisoner they held. He answered the first man.

“You reckon they’ll come fer her?” he asked.

“You know ‘em. Ain’t never left one a theirs behind.”

“You reckon... he will come fer her?” The way he swallowed at the mere mention of the word ‘he’ betrayed the terrible fear in the pit of his stomach.

“Prolly,” his partner answered. “Jest keep yer shotgun ready.”

“Is it true he’s ruthless as they say?”

“Mmmmph!”

They both turned before the first man could answer to look at the woman in the cell. Her bright green hair was certainly an oddity in these parts. She had soft, red coloured eyes as well, making some of the townsfolk think of her as a demon.

She wore a short dress, with a frilled, knee length skirt, and heavy riding boots. It had long sleeves, coloured brown, while the rest of the dress was a bright, grassy green. A brown, wide-brimmed hat topped off her outfit where a metal pin, coloured black, adorned her with the star symbol her gang of outlaws had adopted. Apparently it was some sort of counter symbol to the gold star of the law, making themselves out to be some kind of ‘new’ law of the land. It was their leader who had come up with it but the two deputies had never seen her. Though her reputation preceded her, as did the one of her right hand man. The woman they were holding prisoner seemed to object to the way they talked about him.

Her hands were tied behind her back and a thick coil of rope wrapped around her arms and torso, followed by another that held her ankles and calves in place. A thick, white cloth had been tied on over her mouth and nose to render her silent, pulled so tight her lips were showing through. Even tied up and gagged, they had locked her in the cell just to be certain of no escape. They counted on her gang coming for her.

“Shut yer yap,” the tall man said. “Had ‘bout enough a you outlaw types ‘round here.”

Both men turned their attention back to the rain outside and stood up stiff and straight when they saw a lone horse come up through town up the main dirt road, now nothing but thick mud. With no one else on the street, he stuck out as he approached. They couldn’t see his face but they did make out the square outline of his jaw and his brown, scruffy beard as he shielded his eyes from the rain with a wide-brimmed, black hat.

“Is... is that him?” the tall man asked, picking up his double barrelled shotgun and checking the breech.

“Don’t know. Can’t see his face.”

The woman in the cell stopped struggling and watched the two men stand deathly still by the open doorway to the jailhouse.

The stranger trotted his horse slowly, trudging through the mud of the street, stopping it in front of the hitching post. He lashed the reins to the wooden pole and stepped toward the door, keeping his face hidden beneath the brim of his hat. He stopped in his tracks when he heard the click of a hammer drawn back from the stout man’s revolver.

“Now you just hold it right there,” he said. “What’s yer business here?”

The man said nothing, brushing aside a long black duster coat, revealing his own, gleaming silver revolver on his hip. He wore an all black, three-piece suit beneath it complete with a gold pocket watch attached to a chain hanging from his vest pocket. He pulled something from his chest and held it up for both men to see. It was a shining, circular badge with a silver star within the circle, displaying his title.

“Federal Marshal,” he said. “Got word about one of those ‘Rebel’ gang outlaws out this way. We been after them a long time.”

“This one’s ours, Marshal. Orders from on high.”

They thought they saw the traces of a smirk across the man’s lips, his eyes still concealed by the brim of his hat. “How high?”

“High enough to value our lives,” the tall man said. “That’s how high.”

The Marshal nodded. “Is that how local law operates? Threats and extortion?”

“Yer askin’ an awful lot a questions, Marshal,” the stout man said.

“Part of the job,” the Marshal replied. “I won’t take your prisoner. But I would like a word with her. Governor’s on our case about their leader and she might know a thing or two about where she’s hiding out.”

The Deputies relaxed a bit. The stout man motioned for the tall man to lower his shotgun. “You promise you won’t take her? ‘Cause we’re good as dead if she leaves this jailhouse.”

“You have my word as an officer of the law.”

Nodding to each other, the Deputies stepped aside and let the Marshal inside.

“Obliged, fellas,” he said, walking inside. He still kept his face hidden but he raised his head finally when he approached the prison cell. The Deputies didn’t notice the brief flash of recognition in her eyes before she started glaring at the Marshal, protesting into her gag.

“Fiery one, she is,” the Marshal said. “Though that wasn’t always the case, as I hear it.”

“You know ‘er?” the tall man asked.

The Marshal chuckled to himself, silently drawing his pistol and keeping his tired, grey eyes fixed on the woman in the cell.

“Known her a long time,” he said. “Always was a sweet girl, Mirelle.”

“Shit!” the stout man said. “Sam, that’s-” he didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as the Marshal in black whirled around and fired, his bullet passing straight through the Deputy’s forehead. The tall man reached for his shotgun, trying to bring it level with the man who had shot his partner. But he was too slow. The Marshal wasn’t especially fast but, with his gun already drawn, he didn’t have to be. And almost nobody had aim like he did. Squaring his pistol, another round chambered and fired, screaming through the man’s skull and dropping him to the floor.

Mirelle shrieked into her gag from the cell while the man rooted around the stout man’s pockets for the cell key. He rushed to the door and pulled it open, pushing his way inside.

“Sorry you had to see that, Mirelle,” he said, pulling the gag down from her mouth.

“Jonas! You didn’t need to-”

“I did. No use arguing it now. We gotta move. Sheriff’s men have the town surrounded. They’ll be coming after hearing those shots.”

“What? We can’t go out the front door then!” Mirelle said.

“Who said anything about the front door?”

He bent down and pulled her back, shielding her from the back wall as it was pulled down, the distinct sound of pounding hooves grinding through the dirt. Four horses in total had pulled the rickety wooden wall down, dragging it off into splinters. A white horse rushed toward them, ridden by a huge, muscular woman in a white suit and duster, her purple hair tied back in a braid. Shining, angry green eyes glared at them.

“Let’s move!” she shouted.

Jonas didn’t have time to untie Mirelle, instead helping the large woman get her into the front of the saddle. She wrapped one strong arm around Mirelle, holding the reins with the other. A black horse waited beside her without its rider and Jonas climbed into the saddle.

“Artema!” Mirelle said. “You came!”

“No time for talk. Let’s go!”

She spurred her horse into action, with Jonas following suit, and racing along behind her. The Sheriff and his posse arrived too late, only able to watch the gang ride off into the distance.

Jonas rode along, thinking about the men he killed. Mirelle had been right. He didn’t have to kill them. He just wanted to. But they were holding Mirelle prisoner. And he wasn’t going to lose anyone else. Especially not the way he lost Celia. As he rode, the mere thought of her name brought the memories flooding back. How he wished he could forget...

...

Weeks earlier, in the City of Weston

He was alone at the table. Sitting there, hunched forward, hands clasped together, his chin resting on his thumbs, he couldn’t hide the worry in his dull, grey eyes. Being first to arrive was always filled with the agony of his own anxious thoughts whirling and spinning over and over again in his mind. Replaying things from his past, conversations he’d had, actions he’d taken, and wishing he had done differently; done better.

The seat he occupied was at one end of a long table with seven other chairs situated around it. The other side, at the front of the room and nearest the door, was the head of the table. He would never dare take that seat. That wasn’t for him. It would never be for him, as far as he was concerned. That belonged to a true leader, he told himself. And he, Jonas, would never be that. That seat was for Artema. And, should she retire, whoever she chose to take her place. Never for Jonas. Never across millions of timelines, millions of years, in any possible circumstance, could it be him sitting at the head of this table. But he had called the meeting.

This time, his worries extended beyond his usual anxieties. Troubling reports from his own team of agents, and a frightening discovery by someone thought long gone from Weston were the forefront of Jonas’ mind. And he had sent an urgent request out for everyone to meet him, across the many worlds they had found, to return here and deal with this situation. He realized that some of them may bring others with them. There wouldn’t be enough chairs to seat them. Yet another worry. What would they think of him, for failing to prepare for that eventuality? Useless he thought to himself. You’re a useless, worthless piece of garbage. That’s what they all think of you. And that’s because it’s true.

He let out a deep sigh, wondering when they would all figure it out. Just waiting for the day they all saw him for the failure he was. No one, at least outwardly, had ever said that to him. But they had to see it. They weren’t stupid. They all would see it, given enough time. Jonas just wondered if today would be that day...

But, of course, he had other things to think about and discuss with them. This was far too important. Far more important than his own stupid worries, at any rate. Jonas, as he usually did, scolded himself for being so selfish and worrying about these ridiculous things while he sat there, alone.

“Evening, scruffy. You look as sullen as ever.”

Jonas recognized the voice from the doorway. He looked up from his file folder and turned toward the source of the voice.

“Aurora...” he said. “You arrived with Elyn, I take it?”

“My dearest Elyn is on her way up,” she said. “I walked on ahead.” She looked around the room and counted the chairs. “I suppose none of these if for me?”

“I didn’t prepare. This room was only built for me and the agents. I’m so-”

“Save your apologies for something you’ve actually done wrong, will you?”

“R-right... of course...” Jonas said, standing up from his seat. He crossed the room, locking eyes with the woman who had entered.

Aurora was dressed as she usually was. Skintight, red catsuit, black boots and gloves, a long, black trench coat and matching fedora... the World’s Greatest Thief still kept up appearances, despite her changed ways. Her long, raven locks tumbled down her shoulders from beneath her hat. With perfect, bronze-coloured skin and dark eyes, Aurora still looked about as intimidating as ever, despite standing a full head shorter than Jonas, himself a tall man in his own right.

Jonas, dressed in a dark brown, three-piece suit, white shirt, red tie, and wearing the same scruffy, brown beard that matched his short hair, always felt unprepared to meet with Aurora. Perhaps that was from the shared history of animosity between the two but that was true of most of the group. She had been working against them for a long time. And part of Jonas still resented her for the way she had once treated his best friend... but that was a long time ago.

Following in just behind her, a tall woman, pale-skinned, with short and thick orange hair, soft red eyes, dressed in a fancy red business suit with a short skirt, black blouse, and matching blazer... he would recognize her from anywhere.

She kissed Aurora on the cheek before shaking hands with Jonas. In turn, Jonas shook Aurora’s hand as well, stepping aside to let the two of them in.

“Good to see you, Elyn,” Jonas said.

“You too, Jonas,” Elyn said. “It’s been a while. When was the last time all three of us were in the same place together?”

“Esterlin, I think,” Aurora said. “Helping you out with your fake kidnapping scheme.”

“Oh... that’s right,” Elyn said. “I thought it was our silly snoop game we filmed.”

Jonas let out a long breath. “God, don’t remind me... I hope never to see the footage of that.”

“Why not? You’re better than you think you were,” Aurora said. “Despite my nitpicking, even.”

“No, I’d just cringe the whole time at how awful I was,” Jonas said. “No thanks.”

Elyn sat down in her usual spot while Aurora stood behind her, leaning down and putting her hands on her girlfriend’s shoulders. “Well we can’t force you,” Aurora said. “But we both really appreciate you helping us out.”

“It was nothing,” Jonas said, waving his hand and stepping back to the door, leaning against the wall.

Before anyone else could say anything, four more people arrived together. Jonas was familiar with all of them and the group had become fast friends after everything they had gone through together in Weston.

One was a woman he knew very well. Her golden eyes, bobbed red hair, and casual yellow outfit of a t-shirt, skirt, and running shoes, made her instantly recognizable. The man behind her, tall, broad-shouldered, long hair the same red as hers, a matching beard, the same golden eyes, dressed in an all black suit with a yellow tie was just as recognizable. The other two, a pretty, dark-skinned girl, short, dressed in a blue tank top, black skirt and sandals, and a dark-haired, pale-eyed woman dressed in a black pantsuit and fedora, smiled at him warmly.

“Meryn,” Jonas said, shaking the red-haired woman’s hand first. “You brought... well, everyone.”

“All the help we can get, Jonas,” she said, gesturing back toward them. “You said it was urgent. Well, we can use both teams. New and old.”

“I appreciate the thought. But there’s not enough seats for everyone. The room was only made for us in the agency...”

“There’s room,” the older man behind Meryn said. “We do not need to sit. At least, I know I do not need to.”

“Thanks for understanding, Drake,” Jonas said, shaking his hand. “Good to see you.”

“You as well, Jonas. I want to help any way I can.”

“Well, I appreciate that.”

The dark-haired woman didn’t extend her hand, instead nodding and tipping the brim of her hat to Jonas.

“Mac,” Jonas said, nodding to the detective, Sarah MacGinnis. Everyone called her Mac.

“Jonas. Nice meeting you here.”

“Likewise. You’re looking to help too?”

“Way I see it, we pretty much fought a war together. I’ll always be here,” Mac said.

The last person with Meryn, hugging her around the waist, smiled wide and reached her hand out which Jonas shook gladly.

“Great to see you again, Saira,” Jonas said.

“You too. Always a pleasure to meet with Meryn’s friends!”

Jonas couldn’t help but smile at Meryn’s sweet, friendly girlfriend. He helped usher them all into the room, Meryn taking her seat and the other three standing behind her. Before they were even finished filing into the room, the next two arrived, one of them bounding up and jumping into Jonas’ arms, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Jonas chuckled as he returned the embrace of the pale-skinned, green-haired woman. She wore a short, casual summer dress, coloured brown, and matching flats, nearly matching Jonas’ brown suit.

“It’s been too long, Jonas!” she said, squeezing her arms around him. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Mirelle,” Jonas said. “Wonderful to see you.”

When she finally let go and stepped back, Jonas shook the hand of Mirelle’s wife, the woman with her, Luna. She had dark, ebony skin, pale eyes, long pale blue hair tied back in a braid, and was dressed in pale blue leggings, dark blue boots and a matching sleeveless shirt.

“Jonas,” she said, her voice betraying no emotion.

“Good to see you, Luna,” Jonas said.

“You too,” Luna said.

A look passed between the two of them then. They had a long history and hadn’t always gotten along. But, for Mirelle’s sake, they found common ground. And, of course, they grew to like each other in the process. But the look was one of the many trials each person had faced since they last met. Both of them had seen their way through difficult times. And they both knew when more of them were ahead. This was, they noticed, one of those times.

When Luna entered the room, another pair of women showed up, one shorter than the other, but neither of them especially tall. The shorter of the two, with long brown hair tied back, blue eyes, pale skin, dressed in the same shade of brown as Jonas, though much more casually, reached up to hug him and returned the embrace.

“Celia...” he said.

“Happy to see me?” she asked.

“Always,” he replied. “I’ve just been... worried. That’s all.”

“We’ll talk afterward, okay? No way I’m letting my best buddy stay worried.”

“You don’t have to-”

She reached up and gently smacked him in the back of the head. “Nonsense. That’s what I’m here for. We’ll talk. Okay?”

“Right. Thanks, Celia.”

They stepped back and he stepped aside to let her in and take her seat. “We’ll handle it, Jonas,” Celia said. “We always do.”

Jonas simply nodded before extending his hand to the woman who had come in with her. She always had an intense air about her. Blue hair, cut short around the base of her neck, with thick bangs hanging over one of her angry, purple eyes. She dressed in green, as usual, wearing tight shorts, a tank top, and sandals. She was shorter, and a bit thinner, than Jonas but she had strong arms and grasped Jonas’ hand in a firm handshake.

“Been a little while,” Taria said.

“It has,” Jonas replied. “Good seeing you again.”

“For now,” Taria said. “We’ll see about this news of yours.”

“Nothing we can’t handle. Especially with all of you here.”

As Taria made to walk into the room, Jonas stopped her for a moment, lowering his voice. “So... when did you and Celia... you know...”

Taria fought off the warm feeling beginning to flush her cheeks. He had obviously noticed them holding hands on their way in.

“Been on a few dates,” Taria said. “Talking about moving in together... she hasn’t told you?”

“Haven’t had the chance to talk to her,” Jonas said. “Just saying... she couldn’t have chosen anyone better. It’s great to see.”

“Hope I can live up to that then,” Taria said.

“You will,” Jonas said with a warm smile as he finally let Taria into the room.

Now he was waiting for the last arrivals. Just two seats left to occupy in the room full of politely chatting people. If the circumstances weren’t so worrisome, he almost felt... happy. It was great to get everyone into a room, all together again. Even if their reason for meeting was less than ideal.

Finally, the last two people arrived. The ones he had been waiting on. The first was a tall, athletic woman with caramel skin, bright orange eyes, and strawberry pink hair, tied back in an updo. She wore a black t-shirt and skirt with matching sandals. She met Jonas with a warm smile, the newfound confidence in her eyes a welcome sight to him.

“Wonderful to see you, Jonas,” said Lanala, the woman he credited with having saved his life. He gave them all credit but Lanala had been the one who had essentially found him in the broken state that he was.

“You as well, Lanala,” Jonas said. “It’s always great to have you back.”

The woman who walked arm in arm with Lanala, towering over them both, with an imposing, muscular figure, just exuded the qualities of a leader merely by the way she held her sharp, green eyes.

Long purple hair, tied back behind her head, dressed in a short, white dress, wearing brown sandals and her loose fitting, purple vest... there stood the leader of the group. She shook Jonas’ hand, with a warm smile on her face as well. But her eyes betrayed the serious intonation with which she approached everything.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jonas said. “Thanks for coming, Artema. I know you wanted to retire and everything but-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Artema said. “And we never said anything about making that retirement permanent. We can come out of it at any time. And, if this is as serious as I think it is, that time is now.”

“Well, I appreciate it all the same. I hope you had some good times together,” Jonas said.

“We did,” Lanala said. “And we’ll have plenty more once this job is done with. Won’t we, Artema?”

“That’s the plan,” Artema said. “For now, though, if you wouldn’t mind, we should get the ball rolling.”

Jonas stepped aside and let Artema take her spot at the head of the table, with Lanala seated to her left, and then he shut the door, finally walking to his own seat. He refused to sit, instead leaning forward on the table. He stared across at Artema, waiting for her cue to begin.

“All right, Jonas,” Artema’s powerful voice said, signalling everyone in the room to quiet down. “You called the meeting. What is this about?”

Jonas opened up his file folder but remained standing. “Everyone... there’s a big problem. I can hardly believe it but, I’ve verified it. And we have to move out as soon as possible.”

Lanala leaned forward. “Jonas... don’t tell me...”

Jonas let out a long breath. “We believe... that Jhana may have found a way to come back.”

...

The low hum had been echoing throughout the entire building. An energy, both mechanical and magical, seemed to pulsate through the walls, the floor, the very foundation of the place.

Jhana always had her secrets. Piles upon piles of them, contingencies, side schemes, anything and everything she could find to get her way. And this was the biggest among them. A lonely little house, just along the coast, facing the ocean. Deep underneath, the basement led to a cavernous sub-basement that contained... her way back. At least, hypothetically.

She had yet to return but the machine she had constructed was clearly meant as a gateway or portal, not unlike the one Lanala had opened to help her and her friends travel between the three worlds they called home.

Jonas brought them all there, to this place, in hopes of using their collective knowledge to shut it down. Because it was still powered on, though the gate was shut...

It rested upon a raised platform, a huge arc thirty feet into the air. Made of heavy steel, flanked on either side by powerful generators, the huge archway spanned another twenty feet across. There was no question about its purpose. It was meant to open a gateway into another world. But none of them knew which one, nor even if it was one they knew.

“So that’s where we’re at,” Jonas said, finishing his explanation as he stared up at the thing. The gathered onlookers stared with him, trying to fathom the machine’s purpose.

“Do you really think it’s meant to bring her back?” Artema asked.

“What do you mean?” Jonas asked in reply.

“This was built to enter. Not exit,” Lanala said. “That’s how my portal worked. My guess is that Jhana was trying to find a fourth world. For what purpose, I don’t know. But she wanted it for something, even if she never planned to enter it.”

“And how do you know that?” Elyn asked, stepping up to the thing and putting her hand on the cold steel.

“For one, we would have had to chase her there if we wanted to stop her coming back with more power and taking over. And for another... I think she wanted us to find this place.”

“Lanala... don’t tell me...” Meryn said. “You think this is a trap?”

“Could be. But it’s not powered on, though power flows through it so, for now, we’re safe.”

“Unless someone turns it on...” Luna added.

“Right. But Jhana’s tied up in that pocket dimension I made for her. And there’s no way out for her. So there’s no one here to turn this thing on.”

“You say that, Lanala, and yet...” Artema, ever vigilant in her watch for danger, felt uneasy. “There’s something to this I don’t like. Maybe it’s just because I’m near you and your power but.... I feel something. Two directions, in a sense. It’s hard to describe. Like it wants to pull you one way and the rest of us another.”

“You can feel that?” Lanala asked.

“From what you’ve taught me... yes,” Artema said. “It wants to pull us apart. That is, you and me...”

“But why?”

“It must be Jhana... her last resort,” Artema said.

“Then we need to shut this thing down now,” Jonas said. “We have no other choice.”

Spreading out the large team of people, they got to work trying to figure out how this machine worked. They could find no control panels, no sockets, no wires, nor switches or buttons or toggles... there was nothing. Nothing but the archway, the power, and the hum of the generators.

And before any of them could figure out what powered it... the hum became louder. Like a turbine engine, the sound became a roar. A strange hum thundered in their ears as the archway sparked and crackled, swirling up static energy. It enveloped the empty space between the archway and spun like a vortex. Without warning, and with no time to react, a great force swept them all off their feet and into the spinning portal. A strange sensation came over each of their bodies as they were dragged through, picked apart atom by atom and then put back together... before tumbling out somewhere else.

Jonas jumped to his feet, looking around him. There was no portal to be found anywhere. And he was in... a desert. He had kicked up dust from the hard, dry earth beneath him. And he no longer wore his suit.

He was dressed all in black. He felt a wide-brimmed hat on his head, a long duster coat, pants, a vest over a white shirt... and a revolver at his hip.

“Wh... what?” he stammered, unsure of anything at that moment. “What just happened?”

He looked around to find... no one. Not a soul. The flat desert land stretched on as far as the eye could see. He just about made out the lay of the land. It wasn’t quite flat. It sloped upward on two sides, descending down like a valley. And in the distance in front of him, lines of heat obscuring it, he could see a town.

“Hey! Is anyone out there? Hello?”

Jonas felt himself begin to panic. “Anyone!? Celia!? Where are you!?”

He heard someone else call out. He recognized the woman’s voice. “Lanala! Where are you? Lanala!”

Jonas spun in place. She was behind him somewhere. “Artema!”

“Jonas?”

“Over here!”

The two finally spotted each other, running over to meet the other. Artema wore a similar hat now to Jonas’, though hers was white with a purple band. Her suit as well, pants, boots, and long coat, were also white, with her purple vest on top of a black shirt. She wore a bandolier of bullets across her chest and wore a gun on each hip.

“What the hell happened to us?” Artema asked, removing her hat and staring Jonas up and down.

“I don’t know... have you seen any of the others?” Jonas asked.

“No... what about you?”

“I haven’t either... are we-”

“Don’t,” Artema interrupted. “Don’t put that evil thought into the world. I won’t have it, you hear me!?”

“Yeah... I hear you...” Jonas said. He turned around again and stared out at the vast desert. “Celia...” he said.

“Lanala...” Artema said, turning away from Jonas, staring longingly out at the endless dust.

They turned to face each other again, eyes locked. Each simply nodded to the other. Nothing needed to be said. They both knew it. Their friends... they’d have to find them. And the ones they held dearest... they were gone. And they didn’t know where. Artema had been right. They both knew that, too. It pulled them both somewhere else. It was all by design. To harden them both. To turn them into what they would become...

...

Jonas prodded the campfire in front of him with a long stick, listening to it crackle. He scratched at his ever-present beard, growing more and more scruffy by the day. Mirelle watched him through the dancing flames with a deep sadness in her eyes. What had happened to make him... this way?

“How long’s it been?” Jonas asked, turning his head to the right.

Artema stood away from the fire, her back to them, staring out into the night. She always kept watch. Refused to sleep. Jonas thought she was likely an exhausted mess but she was always full of energy. He suspected it was the anger that pushed her forward. It’s what did it for him.

Artema didn’t turn around. She stayed put. Eyes forward. Scanning the darkness for the corrupt law that was no doubt waiting to nip at their heels again. “For what?”

“Since we’ve been here,” Jonas said. “Since we-”

“Don’t fuckin’ say it...” Artema said. “You don’t need to...”

“Yeah, I know...” Jonas said, letting out a long sigh. Mirelle’s heart broke listening to the deep frustration, the burning rage, in both their voices.

A long silence. They never could find the words for each other these days. Product of the anger, they suspected. The anger... the grief... the profound sadness, that sense of loss... they had no idea if anyone was alive or dead. At least, the ones they hadn’t found anyway. None they’d found were dead but there were two they knew they wouldn’t find. Whatever Jhana had done... it had taken them away. And they had no way of knowing if they were alive, wherever they were...

“Four... five months... no idea...” Artema said. “Lost track of the days.”

“So have I,” Jonas said. “It’s why I asked.”

“Well I’m not the one to ask,” Artema said.

Jonas let out a heavy breath and sat forward, pulling a flask from his vest pocket. He took a long swig of whiskey, downing nearly half of the foul, cheap swill. He stood up and offered it to Mirelle.

“No thank you,” Mirelle said. “I’ll stick to water.”

Jonas shrugged, sitting back down in the dirt. “Smart,” he said. “Better for staying hydrated.”

“Then why do you drink that?” Mirelle asked.

“So I can sleep. And get through the next fucking day...”

“Oh Jonas...” Mirelle said. “You know we’ll find them... right? We always find each other.”

Jonas said nothing, downing the rest of the whiskey. He stood up and walked to one of the horses, untying a large, porcelain jug from its packed load. Ripping the cork off the top, he poured the pungent, brown liquid into his flask, tossing the empty jug away to let it shatter upon the ground. He took another long swig from the flask before he put it into his vest pocket again, re-taking his seat by the fire.

“Jonas...”

“It’s okay, Mirelle. Artema and I... are working on it.”

“On what?”

“A solution.”

Artema turned her head to the side and Jonas immediately looked her way. “Heard some activity out of Gold Valley,” she said. “Some kind of trinket with power. It’s not what we’re looking for but it could lead us that way.”

“Any more details than that?” Jonas asked.

“You know Danny...” she said. “He’s your guy. Not one for using his brain.”

“Yeah...” Jonas said. “He’s a good kid. But he doesn’t exactly have an eye for detail.”

“At least he points us in the right direction. Makes for a decent scout, like you said.”

“I did tell you, Artema.”

“I know,” Artema said.

“I’ve been to Gold Valley,” Mirelle said. “It’s a lovely little town.”

“Gotta be better than Harrison,” Jonas said. “City’s too shady for me.”

“Well I’ve never been to Harrison but... Gold Valley is a nice place. I think you’ll like the Sheriff out there.”

Jonas furrowed his brow. “Why’s that?”

“Just saying... you might know her.”

“Her?” Jonas said. “One of us is the Sheriff of Gold Valley? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to meet up with her... it’s Aurora.”

For the first time in... well, Mirelle hadn’t seen Jonas smile since Weston. But for the first time since then, he gave the slightest of smiles and chuckled ever so lightly. “Now that’s funny...”

“It’s unexpected that she’d be on the side of the law now but-”

“No, Mirelle. That’s not what’s funny.”

“Oh?”

“You know the law around here. The whole damn place. Especially Harrison, run by that one they call The Devil of Harrison... the law’s as corrupt as they come. But if Aurora’s the Sheriff of Gold Valley... that old thief might just damn well be the most trustworthy law type in this whole fucked up world.”

They all went silent then, the encampment. The rest of their people, local recruits from all over, mainly the village nearby, hired guns and the like who joined their cause, had all gone to sleep. Only the three leaders remained awake for the time being.

Mirelle still wondered how both Artema and Jonas had fallen so far. Sure, losing people, not knowing if they were alive or dead... that would affect them. But something else was at work there. A deep, burning rage inside both of them. In this world of dust, this forsaken, lawless place where nothing made any sense... The law were crooks. The outlaws were in the right. The rich stole and the poor were held back...

They were searching. She didn’t know what for. Some way to... fix things. To get back to where they were. But it wasn’t just that. The word hung in the air with every breath that passed between them. Vengeance. Against the world that took everything from them. That’s what they were after. That was why they killed the way they did...

And Jonas always spoke of this Devil, the man in Harrison. As though he knew him. He knew who he was, what he would do, what he was thinking... and Mirelle suspected why. She feared for him. Because if the Devil was who she thought it was... then Jonas would fall further than he already had.

And still, that word hung in the air. Between Jonas and the Devil. Vengeance. But for what? Well... that’s between him and the Devil.


Story Theme Song: Aaron Rizzo- Jericho