I adjust my rucksack’s straps, the weight of my tools and electronics kit digging into my shoulders. We’re huddled in the shadow of the parking structure overlooking Centerpiece Park, where skyscrapers loom over a field of weeds enveloping rusty tables and chairs. A ray of morning sun finds one of the skyscrapers, and the building’s many broken windows look like missing teeth.

I’ve traded my sexy mall threads for something more practical: my worn leather bomber jacket over a Spirit of ‘76 T-shirt, and bell-bottom jeans. My utility knife on my belt is secured in its leather sheath. The military rucksack is filled with my meager possessions, along with some preserved food and a canteen I stole from supply before leaving. My radmeter is clipped to my jacket pocket where I can easily check it, and my blonde hair is pulled back tight, so it won’t get in my way. I’ve left my gold hoops in the rucksack.

“Okay, listen up,” I whisper, pulling everyone closer. “Century’s got spotters in all these buildings. See those broken windows up there? They’re watching with walkie-talkies, coordinating with ground patrols.”

Dina clutches her backpack to her chest, her eyes darting between the towers. Dr. Carter looks equally nervous, but she’s trying to hide it behind her usual scientific composure. Only Mensa seems calm, probably because he can’t feel fear. Lucky bastard.

“But there’s a blind spot,” I continue, pointing to the gap between two buildings. “Right through there. The CCTV cameras usually cover it, but…” I can’t help smirking. “I never quite got around to fixing that glitchy power line Gerry’s been bitching about.”

You sabotaged it?” Dr. Carter raises an eyebrow.

“Let’s say I helped it along. Overheated a power inverter. Security’s used to those cameras cutting out now. We’ve got maybe five, ten minutes tops before they figure it out. Mensa, you got a route worked out?”

Mensa’s digital voice responds quietly. “I have fully integrated the Thomas Guide into my navigation system. The optimal route proceeds west past Beverly Hills High School, then north on Santa Monica Boulevard before turning east onto Melrose Avenue. The Bodhi Tree Bookstore is approximately 3.2 miles from our current position.”

“How long?” asks Dina, her face drawn. Looks like she got zero sleep.

The bot’s blue eyes twinkle for a half-second. “One hour and thirteen minutes at average human walking speed, accounting for debris.”

I reach over and squeeze Dina’s shoulder. “Hey, you good?”

She nods, attempting a brave face. Beside her, Dr. Carter adjusts her pack, wincing. I worry about them. None of us, except for Mensa, has ever been outside the enclave’s safe zone.

I check my radmeter. The power’s good. I take one last look at the park, and the life I’m leaving behind. I feel like I should feel something, but it hasn’t hit me yet.

“Okay,” I say, straightening up. “Mensa, lead the way. Everyone stays close and quiet. And remember, if we get spotted, we book it.”

We step out of the shadows, moving fast. Every footstep sounds too loud in my ears, every breath feels like it might give us away.

I take one last look back and whisper, “So long, Century. Peace, love, and granola.”

☢

We slip across Avenue of the Stars like ghosts, our footsteps crunching softly on broken glass and crumbling asphalt. My heart’s pounding, but I can’t help grinning. We actually pulled it off. No alarms, no shouts, no gunfire. In less than an hour, we’ll be safe with the Bodhies, probably sipping herbal tea while they wave crystals over our heads or whatever the hell they do.

A sudden shadow passes overhead. We all freeze, instinctively huddling against a rust-eaten Volkswagen Beetle. Dina grabs my arm with her good hand.

I peer up, but can’t see anything through the maze of broken skyscrapers looming above us. Their blown-out windows stare down like hollow eyes, some still holding jagged teeth of glass that catch the morning light. The buildings themselves are scarred with blast patterns, their once-sleek surfaces now pocked and peeling.

“Was that…was that a harpy?” Dina whispers, her voice quavering.

Dr. Carter shakes her head, pushing her silver hair back from her face. “I doubt it. The giant condors hunt farther north, up in the mountains. More likely it was the Griffins’ Skyracer.”

“Perhaps we should keep moving,” Mensa says in his digitized whisper.

He’s right. We hurry forward, passing the ruins of what used to be a fancy diner. Its marble facade is blackened with old fire damage, the brass fixtures green with verdigris. A sign reading “Parfum de Café” hangs crooked over the entrance. Must be French or something. Perfumed coffee? How weird. Inside, I catch glimpses of overturned tables with broken china.

The street itself is a maze of obstacles. Chunks of concrete and twisted metal force us to weave back and forth. Nature’s starting to reclaim things. Scraggly weeds push through cracks in the pavement, and thick vines crawl up the buildings. Here and there, faded Spirit of ‘76 decorations still hang inside the stores that survived the LAX blast.

“This is too easy,” I mutter. The emptiness is making me nervous. Where is the Century pursuit? The wall rats? The reavers? The fucking Mauler?

“Your escape plan worked brilliantly. Well done,” Dr. Carter says, but I can hear the tension in her voice. She’s thinking the same thing.

We pass a collapsed office building, its glass and steel skeleton twisted like modern art. Papers from its long-dead occupants still scatter across the ground when the wind picks up. A child’s teddy bear sits propped against a fire hydrant, its fur matted and gray but otherwise perfectly preserved. I try not to think about its owner.

Dina stumbles over a piece of rebar and I catch her arm. “You okay?” I ask quietly.

She nods, forcing a smile. “Getting hungry already. Hope the Bodhies have decent food. What do woo-woos eat?”

I laugh, probably too loudly. “Something better than peas and tastypaste. No offense.”

“Hey, I grew that batch!” Dina grouses.

Mensa interrupts. “I heard movement ahead.”

We all drop into a crouch behind an overturned newspaper stand. The faded covers advertise “Bicentennial Celebration!” and “America’s 200th Birthday Bash!” I hold my breath, scanning the ruins ahead.

Nothing moves except shadows and windblown debris.

After a minute, Mensa’s blue eyes flicker. “Nothing now. Perhaps a false alarm.”

I let out my breath, but the tension remains. Every empty window could hide a sniper. Every pile of rubble could conceal a mutant.

“Let’s keep moving,” I say. “The sooner we get to the Bodhies, the better.”

☢

I pause for a moment as we pass what’s left of Beverly Hills High School. The logo on the building is badly damaged, but it looks like a knight. Some words are missing, but I can read Home of the Norman. I remember the salvage team talking about this. It’s supposed to be Normans, but the “s” has worn off.

We pass a broken window, and I dip my head inside. I would love to look around in there, but there isn’t time. Stretching my arm in, I can just grab a weathered textbook that has fallen onto a chair.

It’s a chemistry book, its cover faded but intact. Inside, neat handwriting marks the margins with notes about molecular bonds and chemical reactions. Some girl named Jennifer had been studying hard, probably dreaming about college. Did she ever make it? Did she even survive that first day?

“Must have been cool,” I murmur, running my fingers over the formulas. “Actually learning real science, not just scrounging for parts and hoping they work.”

Dr. Carter leans against the building, breathing heavily. “It wasn’t…all wonderful,” she pants. “But yes, the opportunities…especially for the wealthy.”

I notice how pale she looks, sweat beading on her forehead despite the cool morning air. She’s been keeping up, but barely.

“I’m slowing you down,” she says, voicing what we’re all thinking. “Maybe you should go on—”

“Don’t even think about it,” I cut her off. “We stick together.”

Dina touches the school wall, her fingers leaving trails in the dust. “My parents told me they used to have dances here. Music, decorations, kids dressed up…” Her voice trails off.

A sudden breeze kicks up, sending papers swirling about inside the room. Homework assignments, hall passes—fragments of a lost world scattered like fall leaves. I lean through the broken window and put the chemistry book back inside.

As we continue, Mensa’s head swivels sharply.

“What is it?” I ask, surveying the area but seeing nothing threatening.

“I heard what can only be described as a growl.”

My heart skips. “What kind of growl?”

Mensa tilts his head. “Uncertain.”

Dina grabs my arm. “The Mauler?”

I try to sound more confident than I feel. “Probably just a wild dog.” But my hand strays to the utility knife at my belt.

“We should move,” Dr. Carter whispers, pushing herself forward, fear giving her fresh energy.

☢

We hurry along Santa Monica Boulevard, Dr. Carter’s breaths coming in ragged gasps. Guilt gnaws at my stomach. I should have realized she wasn’t in shape for this kind of trek.

A howl echoes behind us, bouncing off empty buildings. My blood turns to ice.

“Run!” I yell, though Dr. Carter can barely walk.

We pass a Mercedes-Benz dealership, its brick facade still standing proud while everything around it has crumbled. Through the empty window frames, I glimpse the rusted-out hulks of what were once luxury cars. I think about how useless most cars are now. All the gasoline in the world turned into worthless sludge years ago. The only working vehicles are the rare ones upgraded with Xeno fission, like the Gremlin Chargers or Trans Am Landracers. And even those are mostly confined to the cleared freeways. These surface streets are too cluttered with fifty years of debris.

Another howl splits the air, this time from ahead of us. My heart nearly stops as I spot a massive shape leaping between rooftops, moving with impossible agility.

“It’s the Mauler!” Dina screams.

Mensa lets out a forced digital shriek. “I don’t want to die!” He pauses, head tilted. “Jade, was that the appropriate human fear response?”

“Not now,” I grunt, helping Dr. Carter around the corner and onto Melrose. The Bodhi enclave is so close, maybe ten minutes away, if we were moving at full speed.

“I’m sorry,” Carter wheezes, her face flushed with shame. “Too many years…in my lab chair…”

I open my mouth to reassure her, but the words die in my throat.

A figure leaps from the roof of the building ahead, falling thirty feet before landing heavily on furry feet.

The Mauler stands in front of us, and holy shit, Khan wasn’t exaggerating. He’s easily seven feet tall, his muscled body covered in patches of coarse brown fur. Massive claws extend from his fingers like daggers. But his eyes are the worst part, intelligent and cruel, glittering with sadistic anticipation.

Dina bolts in the direction we came.

The Mauler charges, moving faster than anything that size should be able to. Mensa steps between us, servos whirring as he spreads his arms. “You shall not pass!”

The mutant just laughs—a wet, gurgling sound—and vaults over Mensa’s head like the robot is nothing but a garden fence. Now he’s right in front of me and Dr. Carter. I push her behind me.

My fingers fumble for my utility knife. Five inches of steel that suddenly seems about as threatening as a toothpick. What the hell was I thinking? We should have stayed in the mall. We should have found another way. We should have—

The Mauler’s tongue slides over his cracked lips as he stalks forward. He throws back his head and cackles, showing off rows of jagged yellow teeth.

Oh fuck. This is gonna hurt so bad.