Day 16.
The South Perimeter.
Sauget, Illinois.
20:30 Hours.
Pain is data. That's what the Administrator says.
My leg was screaming. The acid burn from the Pus-Bomber had eaten down to the muscle fascia, and every step sent a jagged bolt of white-hot agony up my spine. But the Cruelty trait dampened it. It turned the pain into a cold, rhythmic throb—a metronome counting down the seconds of Miller's life.
I didn't run. I couldn't.
Travis carried me.
The big man moved with the loping, terrifying speed of a silverback gorilla. I sat on his left shoulder, one leg dangling, my hand gripping his stone-hard trapezius. He didn't even breathe hard. The serum had rewritten his biology so thoroughly that carrying two hundred pounds of man and gear was like carrying a backpack.
"I see them," Travis rumbled. The vibration of his voice traveled through his body and into mine.
Ahead, the stolen armored truck was smashing through the brush. Miller was trying to bypass the main road to avoid the craters, cutting through the overgrown industrial lot toward the Enclave blockade lights two miles south.
Yana was still on the roof.
Through the darkness, I saw her silhouette against the moonlight. She wasn't holding on anymore. She was standing.
"Yana," I keyed the short-range comms. "Drop the hammer."
"Copy," she whispered.
On the roof of the moving truck, Yana moved. She didn't jump. She dissolved.
[ABILITY ACTIVATED: SHADOW STEP.]
For a microsecond, she became a blur of black smoke. She vanished from the roof and materialized inside the cab of the truck, passing through the solid steel like a ghost.
The truck swerved violently.
I heard the scream over the engine noise.
The truck hit a concrete pylon—remnants of the old chemical plant foundation. Metal shrieked. The front end crumpled. The truck spun 180 degrees, tires blowing out with sounds like cannon fire, and skidded to a halt in the mud.
"Drop me," I ordered.
Travis knelt. I slid off, landing on my good leg. I drew the Fang .45.
"Kill the muscle," I said. "Leave Miller for me."
Travis grinned. His eyes flared orange.
"Smash," he said.
The back doors of the armored truck kicked open.
Mike—Dan's brother, the mutineer who had cracked my shoulder with a crowbar—stumbled out. He was dazed, blood running down his forehead. He held a shotgun.
Two other Nulls scrambled out behind him, coughing in the smoke.
And Paige. She crawled out on her hands and knees, dragging the crate of water. Even in the crash, she hadn't let go of the supplies.
"Ambush!" Mike screamed, raising the shotgun.
He saw Travis charging out of the dark.
Mike fired.
BOOM.
The buckshot hit Travis in the chest.
In the first timeline, Travis would have died. But this was Day 16. This was Tank Class Travis.
The pellets didn't penetrate. They embedded in the dense, callous-armor of his pectorals, flattening against the reinforced bone of his ribcage.
Travis didn't stop. He didn't even slow down.
He hit Mike like a freight train.
He grabbed the shotgun barrel with one hand and bent it upwards, snapping the mechanism. With the other hand, he grabbed Mike by the throat.
"You hurt the Boss," Travis stated. It wasn't a question.
He squeezed.
There was a wet crunch. Mike's eyes bulged. His tongue protruded, purple and swollen. Travis lifted him off the ground and slammed him into the side of the truck.
The impact dented the armor plating. Mike went limp, his neck broken at an unnatural angle. Travis dropped him into the mud.
The other two Nulls dropped their weapons. They fell to their knees, hands in the air.
"Don't kill us!" one sobbed. "Miller made us do it! He said we'd starve!"
Travis looked at me.
`[ROOT: KILL THEM. THEY BETRAYED THE SILO. EXAMPLES MUST BE MADE.]`
`[ADMINISTRATOR: LABOR IS SCARCE. RE-EDUCATION IS MORE EFFICIENT.]`
"Secure them," I said. "Break their thumbs so they can't hold weapons. Then tie them up."
Travis moved to comply. The Nulls screamed as he snapped their digits with surgical precision.
I walked toward the cab of the truck. My leg dragged, leaving a furrow in the slurry.
The driver's door hung open.
Yana was standing there, wiping her knife on her pants.
Miller was on the ground. He had crawled ten feet from the wreck. His good leg was broken now, twisted beneath him. He was dragging himself through the dirt, clutching the Pelican case to his chest like a baby.
He looked up. He saw the Enclave lights in the distance—safety, warm beds, vassal status.
Then he looked back. And he saw me.
"Jack," he wheezed. "Jack, wait. We can deal."
I limped closer. I kicked the Pelican case out of his grip.
"No deals, Sheriff," I said. "The market is closed."
"I have the Scrip!" Miller scrambled, pulling the canvas sack from his belt. He threw it at my feet. Washers spilled into the mud. "Take it! Take it all! I just wanted to leave!"
"You didn't just leave," I said, looking down at him. "You stole the Serum. You stole the truck. You tried to sell us to the Enclave to be processed into fuel."
I knelt down, the pain in my leg sharpening my focus.
"Do you know what they do to Vassals, Miller?" I asked softly. "They don't feed them. They bleed them. They use them as live blood bags for their soldiers. You were running to a slaughterhouse."
"Liar!" Miller spat, fear turning back into hate. "You're the monster! You starved us! You killed Sal!"
"Sal died holding the line," I said. "You died running away."
I stood up.
"Get him up," I ordered Travis.
Travis walked over. He grabbed Miller by his tactical vest and hauled him upright. Miller screamed as his broken leg dangled.
"Paige," I called out.
Paige was huddled by the truck tire, shaking. She looked at me, her eyes wide and wet.
"Come here," I said.
She stood up slowly. She walked over, her steps unsteady.
"You left," I said.
"I was hungry, Jack," she whispered. "I was scared. Miller said..."
"Miller lied," I said. "And you listened. You chose the easy way."
I handed her my Fang .45.
She stared at the gun. Then at me.
"Jack?"
"Execute him," I said.
Miller's eyes widened. "Vanessa! Don't! He's crazy! Help me!"
"My name is Paige," she whispered, looking at the gun.
"Do it," I said. "Pull the trigger, and you come back to the Silo. You start at the bottom. You clean the Gutter. But you eat. You live."
I leaned in close to her ear.
"Refuse," I whispered, "and you walk to the Enclave alone. And I will watch them skin you from the ramparts."
Paige looked at Miller. She looked at the man who had promised her safety and delivered a car crash. She looked at the man who had turned the crew against me.
She took the gun. Her hands were shaking so bad I thought she'd drop it.
"Please," Miller begged. "Ness, please. We're friends. We worked together."
"You killed Paul," she said. Her voice gained a sudden, brittle strength. "You blamed Dan, but you pushed him. You made us hate each other."
She raised the gun.
She didn't aim for the head. She aimed for the chest.
BANG.
The recoil jerked her arm back.
Miller screamed. The bullet hit him in the shoulder.
BANG.
Stomach.
BANG.
Throat.
Miller gurgled, blood bubbling from his mouth. He sagged in Travis's grip.
Paige dropped the gun. She fell to her knees and vomited into the mud.
`[TRAITOR EXECUTED.]`
`[PAIGE LOYALTY: RESET TO 10% (FEAR).]`
`[CRUELTY TRAIT: SATISFIED.]`
"Done," I said.
I picked up the gun. I checked the Pelican case. Five vials. Intact.
I looked south.
The Enclave blockade was active. Floodlights swept the field. They had seen the crash. They had heard the shots.
A Humvee was rolling toward us, cautious, machine gun manned.
"Leave the truck," I ordered. "Travis, carry the Serum. Yana, get the water. Paige, get up."
"What about them?" Travis pointed at the two surviving mutineers with the broken thumbs.
"They walk," I said. "In front. If there are mines, they find them."
We turned back toward the Silo.
I didn't look back at Miller's body. I didn't look back at the wreck.
I looked at the notifications scrolling in my vision.
`[MUTINY QUASHED.]`
`[SANITY: 70%.]`
`[RANKING UPDATE: 1801.]`
The purge was complete. The rot was cut out.
But as we walked back into the darkness, limping and bloody, I knew the truth.
We weren't building a society anymore. We were building a cult. And I was the goddamn high priest of ash.
FOUNDRY PROTOCOL - DAY 16
SECTOR 1 (JACK MONROE) █████░░░░░ 5/10 Nodes
STATUS: STABILIZED (BRUTAL)
Casualties: Mike (Dead), Miller (Executed)
Prisoners: 2 Nulls (Broken)
Assets Recovered: Serum, Scrip
Paige: Demoted to Null Class (Slave Labor)
Next Event: The Flush / Enclave Retaliation