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“Mexico City was one of the first major cities to be attacked. We had been monitoring Quetzalcoatl since he emerged from his temple, so we knew where he was heading. We sent our best fighter jets to counter him. All that we managed to do was enrage him. Once he reached the city, he was set on killing and destroying. We called our fighters back. All those civilians… I still hear their screams in my dreams.”

Video transcription of an interview with General Adam McClain, 2046.

“Please, enter a destination,” says Fyfe as soon as Jude is back in the pilot’s chair.

“We’re going to Nevada.”

“Satellite connection not found. Please, check for system errors.”

“You weren’t joking when you said he hasn’t been updated since the Rise,” Jude says to me. “The satellites stopped working decades ago, Dumdumb. Just head north. We’ll do it the good ol’ way. I’ll guide you.”

I would love nothing more than to die in peace, but a question is already burning my lips.

“What’s in Nevada?” I ask in a faint voice.

His answer takes so long to come that I first thought he didn’t hear me.

“We need a hacker to change Dumdumb’s command and give me full control. And I only know one that is skilled enough to hack into a military-grade AI,” he says as the Firefly’s engines come to life.

Hackers are a rare breed. Nowadays, survival is easier if you learn how to hunt, gather, and farm. Technology has been slowly dying out since the Rise. But a few people still try to keep it going with the little means they possess.

And I know only of one place in particular that has a few hackers for hire. That’s where I sent for the one who hacked into the Firefly the first time.

“The Traveling Market,” I say.

Jude nods. “If we’re lucky, it’s still in Nevada.”

“You have access?” I ask, in awe.

The Traveling Market is one of the most guarded secrets of the Broken States. Twenty years ago, its crazy founders had the idea to build a market on top of three Baggers 301. Before the Rise, they were the biggest vehicles in the world, designed to excavate huge amounts of rubble from mine sites. Three arms as long as a football field—two on top for balance, and one for the excavation wheel—sit on top of the main body that rotates. The bucket wheel alone is as big as a six-story building. Those behemoths—also called the Eiffel Towers on wheels—travel slowly on giant tracks made to reach excavation sites.

I’ve seen the pictures. They’ve built bridges to connect the three Baggers together, and platforms to house the market and stalls. People actually live full-time on the Traveling Market.

And as its name indicates, it moves around, making sure that its location constantly changes. Their wide network of traveling merchants informs them of the old gods’ movements, allowing them to avoid destruction.

The Traveling Market is the beating heart of our modern trade routes. I’ve never seen it in person. You need to have access to their radio network to be able to get their coordinates at any given time.

“I do,” answers Jude.

“You’re not a merchant,” I say.

I forbid my men from attacking or putting traveling merchants under slavery. They are vital to all communities. You don’t want to be cut off from the trade routes. Without them, there would be no antibiotics, food, tools, messages, fuel… We all need something at some point, and I wasn’t stupid enough to ignore it.

They work as a guild, and at its center is the Traveling Market and the King of Merchants. If you save the life of one, the entire guild owes you. And if you hurt one of them… you better hope no one sees you.

“I’m not,” says Jude. “But I was… acquainted with one of them. And they gave me access to the market. I don’t know where the market is right now, but it’s usually either in Nevada or Utah. We need to get close enough to pick up their radio signal. I have a friend in. Now shut the fuck up and try not to die until we reach the market.”

I close my eyes, wishing I could die now just to spite him.

The painkillers he gave me are working, and the edge of the pain is dulled enough that I find myself drifting to sleep.

The jellyfish float above me again. I cower at the bottom of the tank, my little arms around my legs and my eyes fixed on the beautiful threats drifting in the tank. It’s a small mercy that I don’t need to blink underwater.

My younger self thinks that the jellyfish are toying with him. That they’re waiting for him to lower his guard so they can attack. But the adult version of me, who knows I’m dreaming, is aware that jellyfish don’t think as we do. They are content to follow the current and wait for small prey to be drawn by their colors. Once their victim is in their embrace, their thin tentacles inject them with venom and they get slowly pulled toward their mouth. I keep my eyes wide open, mesmerized and terrified. I expect them to reach for me. One of them drifts to the bottom of the tank. I’m crying, but the tears disappear in the salt water. I try to escape, but the cylinder tank is too narrow to offer much room. The tentacles touch my arms first, then my face. I scream.

My screams, too, are swallowed by the surrounding water.

I jolt awake, gasping for air. The Firefly’s cockpit is dark, and I struggle to remember where I am. My ankles are still shackled, and now my hands are tied, too. Jude is sleeping on the pilot’s chair. It looks like the Firefly has landed somewhere for the night.

I try to calm my beating heart as memories bubble to the surface of my conscious mind.

I was three years old the first time the scientists dropped me into the tank as punishment. I was so young, my memories could have been constructed.

Except they weren’t. I came back to the lab when I was a teenager, and I found the videos. They recorded everything.

The first time they dropped me in, I was delighted. Water was my element, and I loved the feeling of breathing through my gills. I had been watching the jellyfish through the glass for some time. They were so pretty. So, when I finally could touch them, I did. But the pain—oh, the pain—is burned into my memory. They were some of the deadliest jellyfish in the world. I think the scientists had hoped that I would die. They all hated me. But even as a toddler, my mutations made me extremely resilient. I convulsed at the bottom of the tank for hours, but I lived.

It became their favorite pastime between experiments. Drop the little monster in the tank to have a few hours of peace and quiet.

“A nightmare?” asks Jude in the dark.

I find him watching me. His face is illuminated by the faint light coming from the Firefly’s control panel.

“Yes.”

I don’t know why I’m even answering.

“Good. I hope it keeps you awake all night,” he says before closing his eyes again.

His hatred is strangely casual and familiar, as if it’s something he’s used to. Something he has tamed. Mine has always been a wild thing.

Even my nightmares can’t stop me from falling into a slumber so similar to a coma.

Fyfe’s voice pulls me out of restless sleep a few hours later.

“Unidentified aircraft incoming.”

The sun is rising, and the sky is turning three shades of orange.

“Fuck…” says Jude. “It’s not an aircraft. Dumdumb, turn off all the lights. We need to go dark.” He’s craning his neck to watch the sky.

The AI obeys immediately, and the Firefly turns off entirely. With the morning light, I can see that we landed in the middle of a rocky formation. It hides the aircraft from prying eyes coming from the wasteland, but not the ones in the sky. And it’s from the sky that the threat is coming. An old god is flying toward us.

Did the dragon follow us all the way here?

We wait, barely allowing ourselves to breathe, as the giant creature gets closer. Will they notice the slick aircraft among the rocks?

His body is long. It undulates in the sky, like a snake in water. Two large wings carry him swiftly over the wastelands. As he flies above us, I notice the red underbelly. He flies past us in a great swishing noise. In a matter of seconds, he has flown away from us.

“Fuck…” Jude says.

“Was that Quetzalcoatl?” I ask.

What is the feathered serpent from Central Mexico doing so far north?

Jude nods. “He’s going north. Maybe the Amazon forest is burning again, and he’s looking to relocate.”

That’s not a comforting thought. We have enough old gods in North America as it is.

While I wonder how the hell I survived the night, Jude rummages through the back of the Firefly. Soon, the smell of coffee and food wafts over me. This food was meant for me, but now it feeds my captor.

At some point, he comes back to the cockpit and drops a plastic plate on my lap. There is some kind of canned meat and vegetables on it. He places a fork in my palm and unties the rope. I barely have the strength to lift my head, much less my hands.

“Eat,” he says.

“Why?” I ask.

What’s the fucking point of feeding me if it’s to kill me as soon as we reach the Traveling Market?

“Because you need to stay alive long enough to let me reach the hacker. I don’t know how far the market is or how long it’ll take us to find it.”

Fair enough. But I’m not hungry. My organs are a mess. I don’t know how I’m even still alive. I was sure the devil pierced some vital parts.

I say nothing, and I don’t move a finger. Jude’s eyes turn murderous.

“Eat,” he repeats between clenched teeth.

When I fail to obey, he pulls out his army knife again and angles it over my dick. It looks like his favorite move. I must admit, it’s the only threat that could get through most men, myself included.

I close my eyes and try to lift my fork. I’m too fucking weak.

“Gods damn it,” Jude says.

Seconds later, I feel the fork push against my lips. I open my mouth and let him force-feed me. I choose my battles.

Or, more accurately, I’m losing all the battles.

The food tastes like ashes. It takes me all I have to chew and swallow. After three bites, I shake my head faintly to inform him that I can’t take another one.

Jude groans and says, “Gods spare me from broken monsters.”

I chuckle. Broken monster indeed.

He disappears again, and he comes back with more medication. Like last night, he rams them down my throat. I bite his fingers and he punches me in the face. I groan, but I keep the tablets on my tongue. I’ll take anything that can help with the pain.

They taste bitter. Just like my entire life.

Jude pushes the bottle forcefully between my lips and gives me more water that I can swallow. I cough as the liquid runs down my trachea and into my lungs.

“I’ll kill you for all of this…” I say once I have regained enough strength.

Jude laughs. “Yeah, right. Start by holding your head first, then we can talk.”

Shithead.

He settles on the pilot’s chair and we’re off again.

The Firefly uses a new generation of solar-powered engines. They are much more efficient than what the rest of the world was using before the Rise. It can recharge while we fly, and keep going for days as long as the sun shines. A true marvel of technology. And now it’s in the hands of this little shit.

I need to find a way to crash us before we can reach the Traveling Market.

We fly for hours, and I don’t have the strength to move, much less hijack the Firefly.

Traveling in the wastelands has never been so easy. Every hour, Jude checks the radio frequency, sending messages to his friends in the Traveling Market.

The time merges into one long agony filled with nightmares and pain. Jude’s voice is strangely comforting as he talks on the radio. It reminds me that I’m still alive and not a prisoner of my dreams for eternity.

Until, at some point around nightfall, a voice answers him.

“Jude, is that you?” says a man. Or it might be a teenager, judging by the tone.

Jude grabs the microphone hurriedly. “Hey, Perri. Yes, it’s me.”

“You asshole! I’ve missed you! I thought you were dead.”

“Sorry. I was in a bind. The slave trade and all that.” At that, he gives me a pointed look.

“Shit. Again? Are you okay?” asks his friend. He sounds genuinely worried.

“Yeah. I was just on my way to see you. I miss you too. And I have a little favor to ask.”

“You’re… coming to the market?”

“I am. I just need the coordinates.”

“Jude. You know it’s not a good idea… Not after the last time. He’ll kill you.”

“He won’t if he doesn’t know I’m here. I’ll come tonight, under the cover of darkness. Tell Stellan to keep the hangar open. I’ll fly in.”

“Fly?”

“You’ll see.”

“Okay… But Stellan will fucking kill you, too.”

“I know. But the grump can get in line.”

It sounds like Jude has many enemies. I can’t say I’m surprised.

As we get closer to the coordinates, Jude asks Fyfe to land in the ruins of a small town called Eureka. He doesn’t try to feed me again. He has no reason to waste food now that we’re reaching the market. It took us less than two days.

“We should seek assistance, Mr. President,” says Fyfe. “Your injuries look serious.”

It’s not the first time since our departure that the AI brought up my health, to Jude’s irritation.

“He deserves it,” says Jude, eyeing me.

I smile to rile him. “Why, holding a grudge for a few burns?”

The fern-like burns—the Lichtenberg figures—on his face and arms, are elegant. I always wondered why my electricity left such pretty scars.

“No. Because you’re a rapey motherfucker, an abuser, and a slaver.” He leans toward me. “And when I have no more use for you, I’ll take great pleasure in killing you for what you did to Helios.” He smiles at that.

I say nothing as his words rattle my bones. Helios told him things about me… Terrible things, it seems.

We spend the next few hours waiting inside the Firefly. Jude doesn’t dare to go far from his new shining toy, and rightly so. An aircraft like this is worth killing for. Maybe I should have left a long time ago with it. I should have spent my life traveling alone instead of trying to build fruitless dreams after dreams. I took the wrong path when I decided to give my heart to a wretched teenager I found in the wastelands. I saw my salvation in Helios. He was so kind and sweet. I thought he saw right through me, to my bones. But ultimately, he only saw the monster.

It’s around four in the morning that Jude flies us to the Traveling Market. He makes sure that Fyfe flies low, informing me that they keep a watchful eye over the sky. They know most of the threats coming from the wastelands thanks to their wide network of radio communications. There are patrols circling around the market for miles, but they are easily avoided with the Firefly’s radar.

As we reach the top of a hill, the market appears. At this hour, most of the lights have been turned off, but the structure is still breathtaking. I knew it was huge; I’ve seen the pictures. But knowing is entirely different from seeing it. The nine arms are connected by long rope bridges, swinging in the desert wind. They have built stalls and structures in every free space on the giant vehicles. Some are even hanging from the arms. A beautiful and practical mess.

I’m glad that I can see it before kicking the bucket.