Mendez's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Virginia found Mendez by the fortress well at first light. She adjusted her glasses and set a tin cup down between them. "We're four days from empty," she said. "Three if the kids keep eating." Mendez set his makeshift rifle across his knees. He was a broad man in worn fatigues, goatee gone gray at the edges, and he had spent the last two weeks counting the seventeen mouths inside these walls. Every one of them was somebody he had promised himself he'd keep breathing. That was the whole job now. Keep them fed, keep them alive, keep the gate shut. "I'll take the jeep," he said. "Riley too." Virginia nodded once and walked back toward the gate. Riley was already loading cans of fuel when he got there. Blonde ponytail, white tank top gone gray at the seams, her scratch-built rifle propped against the tire. She looked up at him and grinned like they were going hunting instead of scavenging. "Two of us against the wasteland," she said. "Feels about right." "Just supplies," Mendez said. "In and out. No fights we don't need." They rolled out through the gate in the sun-faded jeep, dust curling behind the tires. The Vael hunted by heat, so daylight was the worst time and the only time. Mendez kept the engine low and his eyes on the ridgeline. A mile out, something thumped behind them. Riley's rifle came up before Mendez had the brake down. He killed the engine. They both twisted in their seats. Under the blanket in the back cargo well, something shifted again. Small. Wrong-sized for a person. "Vael scout," Riley whispered. "Had to be riding under there since the gate." Mendez slid out slow. He circled to the tailgate with the rifle up. Riley climbed over the seat from the other side, ready to pin whatever came out of that blanket to the floor. "On three," Mendez said. He counted. Riley yanked the blanket back. Emmy stared up at them. Twelve years old, black and blue hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, dirty t-shirt, gym shoes worn through at the toe. She did not flinch at the rifle barrel two feet from her face. "Don't yell," she said. Mendez lowered the gun. His hands were shaking. "Jesus. Jesus, kid." "My camp had more people than mine and Dad's," Emmy said. "Some of them made it. I'm going to find them." "Your father thinks you're inside the walls," Mendez said. "He'll figure it out." Riley sat down hard on the tailgate and swore quietly at the sky. Mendez looked back the way they'd come. The fortress was already a smudge on the horizon. Turning around meant burning fuel they didn't have and losing the light. Going forward meant taking a twelve-year-old into Vael country. He looked at Emmy. Emmy looked back, waiting. "Get in the front seat," he said. "Head down."