Page 36

"Unity patrols concentrate here and here." Trent points to locations on the makeshift map spread between us. "If we cut through this ravine, we should avoid their standard search patterns."

We're huddled in a small cave five kilometers from Haven's Edge. Rain batters the entrance, turning the world beyond into a gray blur. Our hasty departure three hours ago left little time for detailed planning, and now we're playing catch-up.

Vex studies the route Trent suggests, doubt clear on his face. "That ravine floods during heavy rain. We'd be trapped."

"The alternative adds a full day to our journey," Trent counters.

I lean forward, examining both options. "What about this ridge? Gives us higher ground and clear sightlines."

"Exposed," both men say simultaneously, then eye each other with mutual annoyance.

I suppress an eye roll. "Great. The one thing you agree on."

The tension between them has been palpable since we left the settlement. Professional, as promised, but with an undercurrent that makes the air feel thick whenever we stop moving.

"The ridge is too visible," Vex explains, softening his tone. "Unity's new drones have enhanced thermal imaging."

"And the ravine is still too risky with this weather," Trent adds.

I glance at the cave entrance where rain continues to fall in sheets. "Seems like we're stuck here until this lets up anyway."

"Two hours, max," Vex says, his modified eyes tracking the storm patterns with practiced ease. "Then we move, regardless."

"Which direction?" I press.

The men exchange another look—this one almost cooperative.

"East, through the forest basin," Trent suggests. "Longer but more cover."

Vex nods reluctantly. "The vegetation will mask our thermal signatures."

"Forest basin it is." I stand, stretching muscles already sore from our rapid exodus. "I'll take first watch."

"I'll join you," Vex says.

"Not necessary," I protest.

"Two sets of eyes are better than one," he insists, following me to the cave entrance.

We position ourselves just inside, where we can monitor approaches without being easily spotted. The rain creates a constant background noise, but our enhanced hearing can still detect anything unusual through it.

"You okay?" Vex asks after several minutes of silence.

"Just peachy. Running for my life again, being hunted by Unity, responsible for warning others like me. What's not to love?"

He smiles slightly. "The Sentinel sarcasm remains intact, I see. "

"Some things don't change, even when everything else does." I pull my knees to my chest, watching raindrops create tiny rivers down the rock face.

"Still upset about the hasty exit?"

I consider denying it, but what's the point? "I was just starting to...I don't know. Feel settled?"

"In the three weeks since you arrived?" His tone is gently skeptical.

"Okay, maybe 'settled' is the wrong word. But I was figuring things out. My changes, my past, what I might want for my future." I shrug. "Now it's back to survival mode. I just want a break, I guess.”

Vex's amber eyes study me, reflective quality more pronounced in the dim light. "Sometimes survival and discovery happen simultaneously, Flutterby."

The nickname still sends a ridiculous flutter through me.

"What's the story behind that, anyway?" I ask, shifting to lighter ground. "The nickname."

"Told you. Butterflies. Transformation."

"No, I mean where did you learn about butterflies? They aren't exactly common knowledge in the wasteland, are they?”

His expression shifts, a rare vulnerability crossing his features. "My grandmother. Before Unity's purges, she was a biologist specializing in insect adaptations to climate change. She escaped with research samples, including butterfly cocoons."

I try to picture this—a woman fleeing with delicate insect life while the world collapsed around her.

"She survived hiding in the northern territories," Vex continues. "Started a small research outpost that eventually became one of the first Splinter settlements. By the time I was born, she'd managed to establish a breeding population."

"The blue ones in the clearing?"

He nods. "Descendants of her original specimens, which were orange, by the way. They shouldn't exist anymore, but they adapted. Changed. Survived."

"Like us," I say softly.

"Like you," he corrects. "My modifications were forced on me. Yours were designed to emerge naturally."

I hear Trent moving around in the back of the cave, gathering supplies. Despite the distance, I know he can hear our conversation.

"You never talk about that," I say to Vex. "How you were modified."

His jaw tightens. "Not much to say. Unity captured me. Experimented. I survived when others didn't."

The blunt summary doesn't match the pain I glimpse in his eyes. "I'm sorry," I offer inadequately.

He shrugs. "Made me what I am. Good and bad."

A comfortable silence falls between us as we watch the rain. I'm struck by how quickly I've adjusted to Vex's presence—his intensity, his directness, the wild energy he carries like a second skin.

"Two minutes," Trent calls from behind us.

I turn to see him approaching with our packs, mission-ready as always. His eyes flick between Vex and me, noting our proximity with a carefully neutral expression that doesn't quite succeed.

"Rain's letting up," Vex confirms, standing in one fluid motion. "We should move while we have cloud cover."

We shoulder our packs and step out into the drizzle. The forest basin stretches before us, vegetation glistening with raindrops. Despite the circumstances, there's a wild beauty to it that Unity could never replicate.

"Reid's transmitter ready?" Trent asks me as we set out.

I pat the secure pocket where I've stored the small communication device. "Ready. Once we reach the signal point, it'll broadcast the warning through the sympathizer network. "

"And send your genetic signature in the opposite direction," Vex adds. "Drawing Unity away from both Haven's Edge and the arcologies."

"That's the plan." I try to sound confident, though the weight of responsibility sits heavy.

We move through the forest with practiced efficiency, Vex taking point with his knowledge of the terrain, Trent covering our rear, me in the middle. The formation feels strangely natural, as if we've done this dozens of times before.

Hours pass in focused travel, conversation limited to necessary communications. As the forest thickens, my enhanced senses track the environment automatically—noting animal movements, detecting subtle changes in air currents, cataloging unfamiliar scents.

"Hold," Vex says suddenly, dropping into a crouch.

We freeze instantly, scanning for threats. Trent moves up beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as he searches the forest ahead.

"Three o'clock, two hundred meters," Vex murmurs.

I focus in that direction, catching what triggered his warning—the faint metallic scent of weapons and the subtle electronic hum of Unity equipment.

"Patrol?" I whisper.

Vex nods. "Small team. Maybe four."

"Standard search grid," Trent confirms, already calculating. "They'll move in a sweeping pattern eastward."

"Options?" I ask.

"Wait them out or circle west," Vex suggests.

"Circle west," Trent decides. "Can't risk them picking up our trail if the rain stops completely."

We adjust course, moving with exaggerated care. The thick vegetation helps mask our passage, but Unity's enhanced scanning technology could still detect us if we get careless.

An hour later, we pause at a small stream to refill water containers. I kneel at the water's edge, listening to the patrol's distant movements. They've maintained their eastward sweep, gradually moving away from our position.

"We're clear," I report, relaxing slightly.

Trent nods, though his posture remains vigilant. "For now. But that's the third patrol we've detected since leaving Haven's Edge. They've committed significant resources to this search."

"Makes sense if they know what I am," I say, trying to keep my tone light. "A genetically modified former Sentinel with insider knowledge of Unity operations? I'd hunt me too."

"It's more than that," Vex says, his expression somber. "The pattern suggests they're creating a perimeter. Standard containment protocol."

"They're boxing us in," Trent translates, our Sentinel training syncing automatically. "Limiting escape corridors before closing the net."

A chill runs through me despite the warm air. "How long before they complete the perimeter?"

Trent and Vex exchange calculations.

"Eight hours," Trent estimates. "Maybe less if they've deployed aerial support."

"Signal point is still six hours away at our current pace," Vex adds.

I get to my feet, determination replacing fear. "Then we move faster."

We push hard through the afternoon, sacrificing stealth for speed when terrain allows.

My modified body responds to the challenge, muscles working efficiently despite the punishing pace.

Trent keeps up through sheer Sentinel conditioning, though I notice the strain beginning to show in his breathing.

As dusk approaches, we reach a rocky outcropping overlooking a vast expanse of what was once farmland, now reclaimed by wild vegetation.

"Signal point is just beyond that tree line," Vex indicates. "We're ahead of schedule."

"And the perimeter?" I ask Trent.

"Still forming, based on the patrol movements we've tracked. We have maybe two hours before they close the gap."

"Enough time to transmit and move out," I conclude.

We make our way down to the tree line, senses hyper-alert for any sign of Unity forces. The signal point—a concealed sympathizer relay station—is disguised as an abandoned pre-collapse agricultural monitoring post.

"I'll check the perimeter," Vex says when we arrive. "Make sure we're clear."

As he slips away, Trent and I enter the small structure. Inside, dusty equipment masks the modern technology hidden beneath. Trent secures the entrance while I retrieve Reid's transmitter.