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  Leela scrambled away, covered in filth and congealing blood. "God, that was disgusting," she spat, wiping at her face and neck with her hands.

  "We're alive. Come on, let's go. If we follow the river south, we should steer clear."

  They reached the gurgling waters within minutes, and Alex guarded her, holding her rifle and tactical vest while she waded into the river, dunking her head and shoulders in the ice-cold river. Then he did the same while she covered him. Finally, he could breathe through his nose again. He splashed back out, put his vest back on, and tried his radio one last time, expecting no response.

  There was none.

  "Radios might be broken," Leela said in an unconvincing tone.

  Alex grunted, knowing they weren't.

  He took stock of their supplies. They still had their weapons, including most of their ammunition. Besides their rifles, each wore a pistol on a hip holster, and he had Witch-Bane. He had six hand grenades and even several 40mm grenades for his under-barrel grenade launcher. They could defend themselves but not against hundreds of Remnants. But Alex had no intention of fighting.

  "If we haul ass now," Leela said, "we can reach the vehicles in two hours. If anyone else made it…"

  He watched her, trying to find the words, knowing it wouldn't matter. She'd never understand. "Leela," he whispered, his voice breaking.

  She turned and met his eye.

  "In the first truck, in the passenger-side storage bin, you'll find a satellite phone. It's got your brother's number in memory. Call him. Ask him to… to contact McKnight. You're gonna need his stupid Strike Force after all."

  River water dripped down her head and off her chin. She watched him, her eyes narrowing. "Do it yourself."

  "I'm… sorry. Sorry for everything after… after Noah. I failed you. I know that. I couldn't help it then. I can't help it now."

  "Goddamn it, Alex," she said, her voice filling with emotion, including anger. "Don't be an idiot. If it is a gateway, maybe they're going home. Maybe that's why they never left this region."

  "Bullshit. They don't get to murder billions of us then just… go home. I have to do this for Noah."

  She advanced on him, her dark eyes flashing, and she stabbed him in the chest with her finger. "Don't you dare say that! Don't you dare bring his name into this. He was love, not hate. You're doing this for you, not him."

  He surged forward and held her, wrapping his arms around her trembling body, and whispered into her neck. "It is what it is, Leela. Go call your brother. Go home."

  She pulled away from him, tears in her furious eyes. Mo whined, rubbing his head against Alex's hand.

  His heart ripping in half, Alex turned away from his wife, dropped on one knee, and hugged his dog. "And you, my friend, are going with her. I don't need you anymore, either. Not for this." He grabbed Leela's hand and forced her to grip the fur on the dog's neck to hold Mo in place. Then he stalked into the woods, heading after the Remnant forces.

  "Alex," she said, her voice breaking. "Alex!"

  "I'm sorry, baby," he whispered as he left her again.

  9

  Leela held tight to Mo's fur until long after Alex was out of sight. The dog whined and pulled. Animals, especially dogs, were far more intuitive than people gave them credit for. On some level, Mo understood what Alex was planning. So did she. She remained in place, staring at the trees in the direction he had gone. Finally, Mo stopped trying to get away and whined miserably. "I know, boy. I know."

  She turned away and moved south at a light jog, Mo trotting beside her. The dog kept stopping, turning, and looking back before sprinting to catch up again, clearly miserable. She understood exactly what he was feeling.

  But what choice did she have? Once her husband had made his mind up, there was no reasoning with him. The stubborn mule-headed fool! He can't bring back Noah, but he can't live with what he sees as his failure.

  Somehow, she both simmered with anger and shivered with worry. She picked up the pace, bounding over fallen logs, pushing herself too hard but unable to slow. If she could call Paco, he'd know what to do. Her brother always did. He was the wisest man she knew. Unlike her idiot husband.

  At night, moving silently, the six-kilometer trek had taken the rangers hours to make. She made the return trip in forty minutes. Sweat soaked her shirt, and her breathing was wild when she saw the trucks covered by the camouflage netting. A large black plastic jerrican of water sat on one trailer, its sides wet with condensation, and she unstrapped it and heaved it over the side of the trailer with both hands. She opened it then tipped it over, letting Mo drink before cupping her hands and drinking herself.

  She wiped her palms on her pants, stumbled to the lead truck, slipped under the camouflage net, and opened the passenger door. Leela found the satellite phone where Alex had said, and she flipped the thick antenna up and powered on the phone. It chirped once then showed a steady green connection. There was one number set into its memory. She hit the call button and waited.

  After the third ring, her brother's voice came over the line. "Paco."

  "It's me. I need you."

  "Tell me."

  "Everything's gone to shit. There was another gateway. The Remnant forces are headed for it, and Alex has—" Her voice broke. "Alex has gone to stop them. He has a… a chemical weapon. I think… I think he's going to do something stupid." Her voice cracked at the end.

  The line was silent for several moments, then he said, "Where are you? Are you safe?"

  "I'm north of the highway on the west bank of the Halfway. Please, I need you."

  "Okay, we got your twenty. Stay where you are. Help is coming."

  "Hurry."

  "We're comin', sis."

  The line died. She pushed the antenna down and slipped the phone into a pouch on her load-bearing vest. They'd never get here in time. Even if they took off at this very moment, it was at least a fifteen-minute flight. Then what? They can't attack with the door gunner, not with dark-elf mages present. They'd have to land, disembark, and move on foot. There were only two helicopters in the Doig River settlement. Even if both were serviceable, they could only roll with fifteen to twenty fighters—but there weren't twenty warriors sitting around the settlement, waiting for action. It would take Yancy time to get volunteers ready and armed.

  Time Alex didn't have.

  And then her gaze fell upon the two motorcycles the Sanchez brothers had driven.

  She motioned Mo to get in the vehicle, holding the door for him. He didn't want to go inside, but when he reluctantly did, she closed the door. "You're sitting this one out, pal."

  The woods were thick with smoke from burning trees as Alex followed the Remnants, his nerves on edge. Anyone could have followed this trail. The Remnants had trampled the brush flat. Yet despite their lack of caution, he forced himself to move slowly, pausing often to kneel and listen, just in case the Remnants had left a hasty ambush on their back trail. He heard nothing, saw nothing. The Remnants now moved with an uncharacteristic lack of concern.

  Why worry if they think they're going home?

  As he caught up to them, he dropped to a crouch and kept low, moving from cover to cover. They were just ahead of him, another hundred meters. He peered through the foliage, seeing them now. Hundreds of Remnants had gathered at the edge of a clearing. Even from here, he heard their excited chatter.

  Something has them worked up.

  On his right, the land rose to form a small hill ringed with aspen and pine trees, a much better vantage point than the low ground in which he found himself. He slipped away, moving up the hill from behind. He dropped to his belly and wriggled forward through the grass.

  His breath caught in his throat.

  A giant gash in the sky at least a hundred meters wide and twice as long hung in the air over the field. The edges of the tear shimmered with multicolored light. Through the cosmic rip, Alex saw a red-tinted landscape, a ruined city surrounded by thick jungle. If it was a gateway, it wasn't like
any that Alex had ever seen, and nothing like the circular openings of Task Force Devil's gateways. The landscape on the other side had to be Faerum, the planet they had once called Rubicon, the home of the Fae Seelie Empire and the dark elves.

  The Remnants were going home—or at least they thought they were.

  Thick woodsmoke filled the air behind the gateway. The lightning accompanying the gateway's opening must have set fires. Usually, lightning strikes and forest fires were natural, even necessary to clear out deadwood, and this fire might smolder for days unless the wind changed. The Remnants were unconcerned with the fire, gathering closer to the gateway, but the lower edge of the rip was twenty feet above the ground, out of reach of even the trolls.

  Poor planning on someone's part, Alex mused.

  The dark elves must have come to the same conclusion, because the trolls and boggarts began cutting down trees and dragging them into the clearing. They were building a ramp or a ladder, something to help them reach the gateway.

  "Oh, no, you don't," he whispered.

  He wet his finger and tested the wind direction again—still blowing northeast, toward the clearing but not as strong as it had been earlier. If he released the Cyclosarin here, it might not reach them. He needed to get closer, but sneaking up on dark elves was impossible. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, seeking calm. It didn't matter if they caught him, he realized. All he had to do was get close enough to open the canister's valve.

  "I'm coming, Noah," he whispered.

  Alex slung his rifle on his shoulder, removed the canister from his vest, and held it with both hands against his chest. He wouldn't need rifles or swords for what came next. He slipped back down the far side of the hill then crawled southwest, coming in at the Remnants from the direction the wind was blowing.

  In their excitement, the Remnants paid no attention to their surroundings, even the preternaturally attentive dark elves. When he was within fifty yards of the enemy, with the breeze caressing the back of his neck, he pointed the release valve on the canister toward them and held the manual release wheel below the valve between thumb and forefinger. His pulse throbbed in his skull. Once again, he saw his son's glowing face, heard his laughter.

  It was time.

  When the branches snapped behind him, he spun around—just as Leela burst through the trees, coming right at him on one of the silenced motorcycles.

  He froze in disbelief, and she hit the brakes, turning the motorcycle and sliding sideways along the ground straight at him. He dived aside, dropping the canister. But she was a better rider than he realized because she came to a grinding stop, still upright, only feet from the gleaming silver tube. He lay on his belly, his breathing wild, staring in confusion at her. A loose strand of long brown hair flapped before her face.

  "Leela, what—"

  The Remnants' cries of alarm cut across the woods. Her gaze darted from him to the enemy, to the canister.

  "Wait!" he yelled, suddenly understanding she had separated him from the canister—from Witch-Bane—on purpose.

  She raised her hand, and the canister rose with it before darting away a hundred feet into the sky.

  "No, don't!" He jumped to his feet.

  A perfect ball of fire blossomed around the canister, consuming it. She had created a spherical shield and filled it with magical fire.

  Ashes and burning fragments of steel rained from the sky.

  Boggarts and trolls charged at them, murder in their eyes. A fireball flew at Alex and Leela and shattered against one of Leela's shields. She spun the motorcycle in place, its rear tire screaming as it spit out dirt and grass. Leela looked over her shoulder, glaring at him. "What the hell are you waiting for?"

  He leaped behind her and grasped her around the waist. She engaged the gasoline motor, and it screamed in protest as she gunned it. They shot forward, away from the pursuing enemy.

  10

  Finding Alex had been easy. Leela had simply driven toward the smoke and run right into him—almost.

  She gunned the motorcycle's engine, trying to coax as much power from the vehicle as possible. The engine whined. And that was the problem with hybrids—they performed moderately well in electric or gasoline mode, but never particularly well in either. Now, the smallish 200cc engine struggled under its load as she tried to maneuver it up an incline. The Remnants pursued them. Bullets cracked overhead, but the spells sizzled out when they came near Alex and Witch-Bane. She rocked the bike to find purchase in the loose soil, and it surged forward over the lip of the bank. Then thick black smoke poured from the engine, and its roar sputtered to a gasp, the torque gone.

  Damn!

  They jumped off, and she let the dying machine slide back down the hill, its rear tire still spinning and flames licking the gas tank. "What happened?" Alex asked as he unslung his rifle.

  "Don't know. Bullet, maybe?"

  More bullets snapped past, with several kicking up puffs of nearby dirt. Even boggarts got lucky, she realized.

  "Let's go," Alex said, grabbing her arm, and pulled her along with him down the other side and into a gully filled with a stream.

  "Wait." She jerked away from him, turning to send a bolt of lightning into a hellhound bounding up the hill. The lightning slammed the beast back, frying it. She staggered in place, her vision blurry. When it cleared a moment later, a half dozen other hellhounds were coming on fast from about a hundred meters away. She was tiring. That last bit of channeling had exhausted her. If she used too much mana, she'd risk killing herself. Since the Culling, dozens of new mag-sens had pushed themselves too far, suffering massive heart attacks or risking backlashes of magical energy. Some had even burned themselves to death.

  She turned and ran with Alex.

  They bolted down the streambed as it meandered back and forth. Her heart hammered in her chest, her breathing wild. Her boots and socks were soaked, and she was so thirsty she thought she'd pass out, but she concentrated on Alex, who was always at her side, encouraging her to keep going. She kept up farther than she would have thought possible before she staggered and fell, her vision dimming. She was done.

  "Go… go on," she gasped, pointing ahead.

  He lifted her to her feet, flung her arm over his shoulder, and dragged her out of the gully and toward a small tree-lined ridge. She wanted to push him away so at least one of them would make it, but she didn't have the energy anymore. When she fell to her knees once more, he picked her up and carried her up the ridge's steep slope.

  He set her down, her back resting against a tree trunk, and placed a pistol and two spare magazines in her lap. The hellhounds were howling, their cries getting louder. He knelt beside her, his face only inches from hers. "Baby, listen. I'm going to draw them away so you can—"

  She placed her fingers against his mouth and shook her head.

  He sighed, his eyes filled with sorrow, but he nodded.

  "When the time comes," she whispered.

  "I'll take care of it." He turned away, knelt behind a tree trunk, removed his magazines and grenades, and laid them where he could snatch them.

  The enemy was splashing through the stream. While Alex and Leela might trick the boggarts and trolls, the hellhounds would follow their scent here. This was the end of the line.

  With trembling fingers, she pulled the satellite phone from her vest, flipped up the antenna, and turned it on. She pushed the button. Her brother answered on the first ring. "Damn it, Leela. Where are you? I told you to stay put."

  How did he know she hadn't? He couldn't have gotten to the vehicles already.

  When she heard the howling, so close now, it didn't really matter anymore. "Yancy," she cut him off mid-sentence, "I just wanted to say… I love you. Dad would be so proud of the man you've become, a leader of the Dane-zaa, our people. Mom was… well, she was who she was, but I'm sure she'd—"

  "Okay," he talked over her in a breathless rush. "I think we have a visual on you. Stay where you are. We're going to send a—"


  Alex fired a rapid succession of aimed shots. She dropped the phone, scrambling over to join him. The hellhounds had reached them first and were charging toward them, fire trailing from their open jaws. She took aim with the pistol and began firing. Alex lobbed a 40mm grenade from his under-barrel launcher. The grenade detonated among the pack, scattering them and sending shrapnel ripping through them. Lightning flashed at them, only to scatter into sparks. In the trees, behind the hellhounds, a horde of boggarts, trolls, and dark elves rushed forward.

  Alex fired a second 40mm grenade into the hellhounds. Leela's weapon clicked on empty, and she reloaded, this time forcing herself to shoot slower, to pick her targets. When Alex fired a third grenade, the surviving hellhounds broke, darting back the way they had come.

  But now the enemy foot soldiers were much closer. The boggarts fired their hunting rifles awkwardly, most of the bullets whipping by overhead, but others thudded into the tree trunk Alex and Leela were using as cover. Leaves fell free to rain down upon them.

  The Remnant forces surged forward in their hundreds, driven by the sight of their quarry. Among them were massive trolls with axes that would cut them in half with a single blow. Alex fired aimed shots then switched his fire selector to automatic and began firing short bursts, his spent casings glittering in the air. As the enemy came closer, Alex handed his rifle to Leela and began throwing hand grenades one after another. Corpses littered the forest floor near the base of the ridge, and the air stank of blood, explosive residue, and gun smoke. She felt mages channeling, and three fireballs hurtled toward them only to disintegrate harmlessly when they came within range of Witch-Bane. They were magic-proof.