Four: Rider


It always seemed to surprise people how quickly children warmed up to Monkey. Nearly everyone expected the children to be scared of him, based on his size and the brutal-looking tattoos and scars. They would herd the youngest away from him, like he was a dangerous animal.

Trip never got tired of seeing the children seek him out later, some young enough to approach with a finger or two crammed in their mouths as they gazed up at him. He was too big to seem like a normal adult to them, and more like a playground to climb over and play on, not that he usually endured it for long. His tattoos were doodles they'd have done themselves, if they'd been allowed. And the fact that he didn't speak much was an open invitation for the shiest of them to do the talking instead.

In Wren's case, Monkey was one of the few things that could make her come out of her shell. Trip wagered that she must have worked hard to keep so many things wound up tight in her small frame, waiting for Monkey's rare visits to do something about it. Monkey's presence didn't quite release the floodgates, but after the second cinnamon bun, Wren was speaking in complete sentences without prompting, and by the third, she was the closest to talkative she'd ever get.

Monkey sat in silence that was part careful attention, part bewilderment, as Wren told him about the falcon, about the broken turbine, about the time her brother cracked his face on the watchtower stairs when he slipped one night but was too proud to tell anyone where he got his black eye. She kicked her legs under her chair the entire time, like there was simply too much energy to release all at once, and through just one outlet.

Trip sat at the other side of Marla's table and munched on long-cooled pastries but didn't dare interrupt. Marla moved around her kitchen in a small circuit from the oven, to the sink, to the table for a quick sip of tea, then back up to check on the oven again. She called it nervous feet, but Trip knew that having Monkey in her house made Marla a little uneasy, but only because he seemed too large to comfortably enjoy her hospitality.

Monkey's gaze sought Trip out every now and then, and she would smile at him.

"Did he bring enough for the turbine?" Marla asked, low enough to let Wren keep talking across the table.

Trip hummed. "Enough for the main parts, anyway. There are some special pieces Ben probably knows we need, but the bulk of it is here."

"That's good to hear," Marla said.

Trip crammed the last of a cinnamon bun into her mouth, the syrup dark and sticky all over her fingers, and tuned back into Wren's monologue.

"—said it was only a rock," Wren was saying. "But it was a dog."

"A dog?" Trip asked in surprise. "A mech one, or...?"

Wren gave her a disapproving look, but Trip was undeterred. "Was it a real dog? Where?"

Wren pressed her mouth shut with calculated stubbornness.

"Out there?" Monkey asked. "From the watchtower?"

She nodded. "Geoff said it wasn't, but it was. It was a dog. I saw it from the tower. It sat down and didn't get back up." She twisted Marla's carefully embroidered napkin around a finger. "It was gone the next day. No one believed me."

"It could have been anything," Trip said. "We don't see that many dogs around here."

"It could have been a dog, though," she added, as Wren's face went pinched and unhappy. "I mean, it could have gotten back up when it was done with its nap and gone home, right?"

Wren ignored her.

Monkey gave Trip a slow look she couldn't identify, and she drained the last of her cup of tea to avoid meeting his eyes.

"Well, not too long until the council meeting," Marla said. "Wren, did you want to stay here?"

Wren shook her head and prodded the crumbs on her plate, moving them from one side to the other. "Geoff's at the turbine."

"We'll drop you off on our way to the meeting, then," Marla said. "Did you want to take some cinnamon buns for him?"

Wren nodded and stood from the table to help Marla wrap them up.

Monkey leaned forward on his chair, toward Trip, while Marla and Wren murmured over the basket of pastries. "Explain to me again what happened last night?"

"Which part?" Trip asked.

"Why did you even have to climb the turbine? Wasn't there an off switch at the bottom?"

Trip rolled her tongue around in her mouth. "Yeah, but it wasn't working."

Monkey gave her appraising look.

"We...okay, I waited too long," Trip admitted.

"That was stupid," Monkey said, but he said it in a way that made it feel like she'd done it intentionally, for the sole purpose of giving him something new to worry about. "Why didn't you get the bridge kid to do it?"

"Who, Mark?" Trip asked. "I was already up there, and I'm faster than he is. And you know he's my age, right? Mark's not a kid."

"You're still calling him that?" Monkey looked past her shoulder, trying to pull something from memory. "He's not the real Mark, right? The real bridge kid died here."

Every now and then, she completely forgot. "Oh. Oh, well, it's what we all called him at first, and it just kind of stuck. We called him Mark for so long, and he started handling the bridges, too, so it's his name now."

"And he let you do that?"

"Well, you let strangers name you," she said softly.

"That's only because I didn't have a name to begin with," Monkey said, but he dropped it.

Someone cleared her throat delicately. "Are we ready?" Marla asked, and they got up wordlessly from her table.


The council meetings were never a formal affair. They held them in the war room, just to make use of it, although the talk rarely got more serious than how to establish more regular communications with nearby settlements. The council itself was made up of whoever wanted to join, if they were old enough. There were eleven of them on most days, half former enslaved, and the rest new settlers. Ben and Trip were the only original citizens.

They arrived early, but Mark and Ben were already there, hunched over the table in the center of the room and pointing out parts of the turbine they could replace with the pieces Monkey brought. Ben's son, Graham, hung over the arm of his father's chair. Ben would ruffle his hair from time to time, or pretend to knock him off the chair, and Graham giggled quietly.

Trip sat next to Ben, who nodded briefly at them and went back to sketching out the replacement sail. Mark gave Trip a strained smile and pointedly ignored Monkey.

Monkey stood in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest as if daring anyone to offer him a chair. Graham shot him an exploratory look, but stayed with his father.

"It should be enough for the spine and most of the sails," Ben said. "The shells were a good find. We just need some of the finer parts to build this latticework."

Mark made a few marks in his notebook. "I don't think I have any spare parts from the bridges. I used a lot of the stockpile after the storm."

"No, we need to scavenge the rest. The Rider factory is close."

Mark shuddered. "It's a ghost town. The last settlement abandoned it years ago."

"It's safe enough."

Monkey cleared his throat. "Caravans come through there sometimes. They say there's nothing. Just dead mechs."

Ben looked at him. "Feel like coming?"

"Sure."

For a moment, Trip thought Mark was going to speak up and offer to help, but he clamped his mouth shut and went back to his list.

The others filed in until every seat in at the table was taken, save Neil's.

"He'll be along," Marla said, as an apology for him. "He's working on something for Ben, I think."

"Sedatives," Ben said. "My numbers were off this month, and I'm running low."

"Again?" a woman asked, nastily.

Ben visibly summoned patience and turned to her. "When did this last happen, Rose?"

"Two months ago, I asked for sleeping aids, and you said you were completely out."

"That's why I started keeping track of the numbers."

"But the numbers are wrong."

Rose was in her mid-forties but looked older, as the enslaved tended to. Around the scars from the slaver band, her hair was streaked with metal-gray that couldn't decide if it wanted to go back to her dark brown or carry on to white. Her face was pinched and angry, as it seemed to be even when she wasn't starting a quarrel. She stared at Ben with hard, narrowed eyes. Ben didn't blink, but Graham retreated from the table and went to stand under the safety of Monkey's shadow.

"I'm sorry," Ben said, opting for diplomacy. "I'll try to be more vigilant in the future. You're welcome to help me catalog them, of course. We could always use an extra set—"

"No, forget it," Rose snarled, and curled back into her chair. "Just pay closer attention."

There was a moment of brittle, uneasy silence until Marla tapped her fingernails on the table. "Well, now that that's settled, what's first on the agenda?"

The turbine was first, of course, and they discussed power rationing at length.

"We got most of the parts we need," Ben said. "Monkey was kind enough to bring them from the canyon this afternoon. We're outlining the plans now to get the turbine back up and functional."

"How much time are we looking at?" someone asked.

"If we start shaping them this evening, they'll be ready to attach by tomorrow afternoon," Trip said. "But we need some smaller scraps from Rider."

The group murmured low. "It's not that far," Mark said. "A few miles."

"I'll be leaving first thing in the morning," Ben said. "And Monkey has offered to help."

"And me," Trip said. "I'm going."

"You don't have to," Ben said; Monkey shook his head behind him.

"You just finished saying how safe it was."

"It's not a matter of safety," Ben said. "You can't really help us carry anything with your arm in a sling."

Trip had to concede that. "Well, you'll still need someone to scan for you. Can't we pile the scrap on Monkey's bike?"

Monkey shrugged, embarrassed. "No good road between here and Rider."

She was reaching, and she knew it, but they weren't going to leave her in Liberty, watching for them to reappear on the horizon while she sat and waited. "What about Geoff?" she asked. "He's got two good arms, and I could keep an eye on him."

Graham stepped out of the shadows. "Me, too."

"No, kiddo, we'll be okay," Ben said. "You stay here."

"Wren told me about the dog," he said, with a child's natural deafness. "I want to see it."

"The dog?" Rose asked. "What dog?"

"She saw it from the tower," Graham said. "She said it was brown. I want to see the dog."

"Graham, the dog's gone," Trip said. "Wren said so herself."

Graham gazed across the table at her, not liking that answer, then looked up at his father.

Ben sighed. "You sure?"

Graham nodded

"Okay," Ben said, "but you promise to listen to me, whatever I say. You promise?"

"Promise."

Rose pressed her mouth shut in disapproval, but didn't have anything real to add.

"What else?" Mark said. "Anything else to discuss?"

He had barely finished asking when Rose leaned forward again. "We need to talk about the new arrivals."

Ben started rolling up the turbine plans. "We might have to leave that for the next meeting."

"No." Rose gripped the edge of the table with her fingertips. "It's only going to get worse. They're torn to pieces when they get here. They're barely human, after what happened, and they aren't any better after months." Her eyes shone out from her band-scarred face. "And I don't see anyone doing anything about it."

"What are you talking about?" Trip asked, honestly bewildered. "We give them food and clothes, and homes. We take care of everyone who comes."

Rose looked her up and down, her mouth drawn tight by some measurement Trip was failing. "You think it's easy?"

"No, I never said that."

"You wouldn't have any idea. You wouldn't." Rose's voice rose slightly as she talked, and Trip found herself leaning away. "What would you even know about it? I see them. I see them suffering, but do you?"

"They're not a bunch of freelifers," Mark said, of all people. "They're helping. It's more than most places do."

"How very generous," Rose said, but the sarcasm practically spilled out of her. "Free for life, and taking in the enslaved out of the kindness of your heart."

"That kindness," Monkey said, cold fury under his tone, "gave you a place to live, and a future. And she's sitting right next to you."

Trip shifted in surprise, and even Mark looked over his shoulder at Monkey.

"It's not enough," Rose said. "They need help."

"We know there are...complications...with the enslaved," Ben said. "I've been in communication with Lee, the doctor over in Granville. He's seeing the same thing, and they've had some progress. I'll be going over it with Neil as soon as the turbine is repaired."

Rose snorted. "What are you doing about it now?" She turned to Trip. "How are you going to take care of this, exactly? Come on. You must have had some plan."

Trip opened and closed her mouth noiselessly. There hadn't been a plan. There never was. "I don't—"

"Come on," Rose said. "How are you going to help them?"

"I don't know," Trip admitted, and Rose turned from her.

"And you," she said. "What are you even doing here? Haven't you done enough?"

For a crazy moment, Trip thought that Rose was pointing at Graham, but her finger stabbed past him at Monkey.

Monkey stood straighter. "What?"

"That's enough, Rose," Marla said gently. "It's not his fault. Or Trip's."

"I don't blame Trip," Rose said. "She couldn't have known better. She was only following him."

Monkey started forward to do who knew what, but Ben stood and everyone looked to him. "I think that's enough for now. We have to prepare for the trip to Rider tomorrow morning, so we'll need to get some rest early. Trip, Monkey, we'll meet at the bridges in the morning. Graham, go on home—Marla will take you."

Muttering, the group stood and gathered their things. Within a minute, Trip, Ben and Monkey were alone with the humming vidscreens.

"What was that about?" Monkey said.

"Do you really think there's something wrong with the enslaved?" Trip asked.

"Hard to say," Ben said, but Monkey just looked at her.

Trip rubbed her elbow gingerly. "This, on top of everything else..."

"What was her problem?" Monkey asked. "That woman?"

"Nothing," Ben said. "Don't worry about Rose."

"No, what does she want from us?" Monkey insisted.

It was so hard to piece anything about those days together, but Trip remembered the girl who collapsed partway across the desert. She remembered Rose, too recently addled by the slaver band to make sense of it. The wordless, animalistic screaming only started when they left the girl behind, buried as deep as they could manage in the shifting sand.

Trip tried to find the right words to put that scene together, but failed. "She...lost a daughter on the way here. After Pyramid. Do you remember her?"

Monkey scowled faintly. "A girl? She was, what? Fourteen? Fifteen?"

"Fourteen. Heather, I think," Ben said. "She died in the desert."

"She was weak when we left," Trip said softly. "I know Rose would never forget, but to say it was Monkey's fault..."

"They're going to credit you for everything that goes right and blame you for everything that goes wrong," Ben said. "The sooner you learn to expect that, the better."


Geoff was more excited for the trip to Rider than he was willing to let on. He slouched his way across the bridges, carrying a knapsack of the day's supplies with a scowl plastered on his face, but Trip caught him grinning when he thought no one was looking. Wren followed after him as far as the last bridge, then stood with Mark to wave them off. Monkey and Trip went first, followed by Graham and Ben, with Geoff bringing up the rear.

A long time ago, Rider had been a real city with a proper name. Liberty knew it as a good scrapyard, mostly because of its proximity. They didn't know its real name, but the statue in the town square was of an enormous man on an equally impossible horse. The Stone Rider at first—then, simply, Rider.

It was only a few miles off, but there were plenty of things between Liberty and Rider that could mean trouble for a small group, so they went prepared. Ben carried a sidearm, and Monkey had his staff and enough ammunition to half-fill his bag. Trip only had her databand and EMP, but that had seemed like enough in the past.

Thankfully, the walk to Rider went by quickly, without any surprises.

Monkey stayed a few steps behind them, his head swinging to see everything at once. He paused every once in a while to listen, then lunged forward to keep pace.

Once they reached town, they slowed down and were more careful around the crowded, crumbling buildings. The street was too narrow to get a good sense of what could be lurking beyond, but there were no stories out of Rider for the past few years.

"Which way?" Trip asked. "Do you know where the parts are?"

"This way," Ben said. "Geoff, keep an eye on Graham, please. Don't wander too far off."

Geoff jerked his head toward the other end of the street, and Graham happily went with him.

"How's your ankle?" Ben asked Trip, for what might have been the sixth time.

"Much better," Trip said, and was only lying a little. "It's really just the elbow now, and my face."

"They'll heal if you go easy on them," Ben said. "I know it's hard for you."

Trip murmured something noncommittal and generic, and they turned off the main road.

There was a small mech factory on the south side of town, where the residents had been gathering their own makeshift defenses against the war. The factory had escaped being picked clean by scavengers because it seemed anything but. Centuries ago, it was a sporting arena of some kind. It was only when the war came that they tore out the seating and the too-bright grass and started churning out weaponry and homespun mechs that might protect them. Trip hoped they had.

"This is it," Ben said.

The roof had long since caved in, and Trip had to run a few scans to determine where it was safe to tread. She pointed them toward the window a hundred feet down. She kept her databand up as Ben and Monkey climbed in through the open window and disappeared into the dark.

Trip tried to keep Rose's voice out of her head, but it was difficult not to feel her scorn all the way from Liberty. If they hadn't stopped Pyramid, Heather would still be alive. If they hadn't stopped Pyramid, there might still be that sanctuary. If they hadn't, if they hadn't.

When her databand beeped, Trip had her eyes squeezed shut so hard that she almost missed it. "Trip? Hey, Trip, wake up."

"Yeah, sorry," she said. "What, Monkey?"

"We got what we need. We're coming back out."

"Okay. See you in a few."

Trip shook Rose's voice out of her head.

The databand flashed again. "Trip, where are you?" Geoff asked, his voice strange. "You there?"

"I'm here," she said. "What's wrong? Are you and Graham okay?"

"We're okay," Geoff said. "But you need to see this."

Trip could see Ben and Monkey climbing back through the broken window, their canvas bags distended with uneven shapes.

"We're almost done," Trip told Geoff. "Did you find the dog?"

There was a pause, then Geoff chuckled shakily. "Yeah. Come get Graham—he's freaked out."

"Okay," Trip said. "Okay, we're coming. Stay put."

Ben set down his flashlight to readjust his bag. "What is it?"

Trip tapped her databand. "I don't know. They found the dog, but something's wrong."


Right away, Trip could tell whatever had spooked Geoff wasn't one of his games. He stood at the corner of a building, a hand over his mouth and half-hunched over like like he was ready to throw up. Graham was crouched at his side, his sandy hair over his eyes.

"Whoa, little man," Ben said, and scooped him up. "What's this? No crying, huh? What did you find?"

Graham's face was scrunched up, all red and blotchy, and he just pointed back into the alley with a trembling finger.

"Geoff?" Trip asked.

The color had been sapped from Geoff's face. "Back there," he said. "It's back there."

Monkey set his bag down and pulled his staff from its loops.

"No, not..." Geoff said. "It's not dangerous."

Monkey took the staff anyway, and Trip followed him into the alley.

They found the dog near the end, behind a rusting dumpster. The light from their flashlights bounced off the dog's wet, matted fur. Blood ran over the dog's mouth and onto the pavement, shining black in the half-dark.

"This is recent," Monkey said, simply.

Trip bit back a wave of nausea. "Geoff's seen dead animals before. What's so strange about—what did you find?"

"Shine your light over here."

Trip didn't believe it, even close up. It made no sense at all, and it still sounded impossible to her when Ben came up and said exactly what she was thinking. "Oh, God, is that a slaver headband? What the—what the hell happened here?"

Monkey didn't say anything. He crouched over the dog and pulled the band from its head. Clots of blood and matted fur came with it, and Trip couldn't look away.

"Is this someone's idea of a joke?" Ben asked.

"No," Monkey said. "The dog died wearing this. Probably because of this."

"What does that mean?"

Trip and Monkey looked at each other. "It means..." Monkey said slowly, "that someone other than Pyramid is using the headbands."

"Not just that," Trip said. "Someone is reprogramming them and using them on animals. They shouldn't work like this."

The dog was half-starved, but its gut was bloated and foam had only recently dried around its muzzle. Whoever was doing this was doing it now, and possibly very close to Rider.

"We should get out of here," Ben said. He gave the dog a look that was part pity, part fear, and hurried back to Geoff and Graham.

"Monkey..." Trip said, and he shook his head, but she didn't know which question he was answering.

"The headband is fried," he said. "We can take it, but I don't know what good it is."

Trip took it from him, holding it by forefinger and thumb. "No, it's no good. I can't pull anything from this."

"Leave it, then," Monkey said. "Let's go."

"Let's go," Trip echoed numbly, but didn't actually move to do it until he took her arm and led her away.


They had the parts they needed for the turbine and some extra besides, but the group was somber as they made the return trip to Liberty. Trip could feel the dog's blood on her fingertips, no matter how much she wiped them on the edge of her shirt. It wasn't just the dog. The dog was just a decaying thing now, something that died in agony alone in an alley—but whoever caused it was still out there.

"Trip," Monkey said. "Stop it."

"What?" she asked. "I'm not doing anything."

"You're worrying so loud I can hear it," he said. "Don't think about the dog."

"Sure."

Monkey didn't have a response to that, but he walked a little closer to her, a human shield from the fears that were suddenly following.

By the time they were within sight of Liberty, they had had fallen behind the others. Geoff walked ahead, faster than the rest of them. Ben and Graham were right behind him, sticking close to each other and occasionally saying things Trip couldn't catch. They put more and more footsteps between them and Rider, and the world started feeling right again, the closer they got to home.

"Will you stay for a while?" Trip asked. "Long enough to help us with the turbine?"

"Yeah, of course," Monkey said.

Trip swallowed again; her throat was oddly clenched. "And maybe...you could think about staying in Liberty again, for good. That house is still empty, if you want it."

Monkey kept walking, his eyes forward. "Didn't work," he said. "Too many people. I can't...think, with all that noise."

"Yeah, well, that's the point of towns, I guess. People."

"You keep them, then," Monkey said. "What's wrong with what we're doing now?"

"Nothing, I guess," Trip said. "But..." She couldn't think of how to say the next part, and they covered the next quarter-mile in silence.

There was never any time, after Pyramid. There were a thousand new mouths to feed, and a thousand pairs of feet to lead back across the desert. No matter how hard they tried those first few weeks, they were too busy to be anything more than unexpected caretakers.

Trip began to reach for Monkey's arm, but let her hand drop to her side. After the enslaved came home, to what would become Liberty, something shifted between them, and there was suddenly this new presence of a thousand people to contend with. Even when they were alone, there was too much at the periphery, vying for attention. Trip understood on some level why Monkey chose to stay at the canyon. But it hurt, like having something anchored inside her slowly peeled away, straight out of muscle and bone.

"I miss having you around," she said at last. "Not at the canyon. Somewhere I can find you."

"You can always find me," Monkey said, but Trip shook her head.

"One day I'm going to send the dragonfly and you won't be there," she said quietly, turning her head away from Ben and Graham's backs. "Someday you're going to run, like you always said you did. You said six months, just to make sure we were okay. It's been a year, so when..."

Monkey listened without looking at her.

"Someday you're going to disappear on me, and I can't..." Trip trailed off. "When all that happened, you were all I had. And when we found him, you...helped me bury him. Not everyone would have done that."

"Ben would have."

"Ben would have. But it was you."

They were within sight of Liberty now, and Geoff and Graham took off running toward it, racing the midday sun and each other.

"Monkey," Trip said. "Why won't you look at me?"

Because he was completely ignoring her, his face angled back the way they'd come.

"Monkey?"

"Be quiet," he said suddenly, hard and low. "Ben, behind us."

"What is it?" Ben asked, then stood stock-still as he heard it, too.

Trip listened. There was a faint, distant scraping noise, like dragging metal that sent off bursts of sparks. "What is it?"

"Start running," Monkey said. "Now. Go."

"What?" Trip asked. Her head was throbbing from the walk, and the painkillers were failing her again. "Monkey, what is it? I'm not going anywhere without—"

"Dragonfly," Monkey said softly, meaning her, meaning the name he called her too rarely. "Listen to me. Do you have your EMP with you?"

She fumbled for it, clasped to her belt. "Yeah."

"Good." Monkey closed his hand over hers on it. "Grab Geoff and Graham, and run with them to the bridges. If it gets past us, zap it. You might only get a few seconds, so make it count."

Terror settled in the pit of her stomach. "What is it?"

"Scorpion," he said, and turned.

She could see it now—so like the giant mechs at Pyramid that her stomach churned. It was as big as a mech dog, but moved with a different rhythm and a telltale scraping noise as its metal shell contracted. The scorpion was still relatively small in the distance, but it was ridiculously fast, much too fast to outrun.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Distract it," Monkey said. "Go. Get the kids and go."

Trip should have known better than to be frozen for another few seconds, like she'd never seen a mech before, but it still took hold of some instinct in her to stay perfectly still and didn't break until Monkey pushed her toward the settlement. "Go!"

The mech had already seen them by the time she started running. Monkey shouted and waved his arms to get its attention. Trip stumbled for the first dozen steps before finding her footing and racing headlong at Geoff and Graham, who had turned back at the sound of the shouting and stared with big eyes.

"Go!" Trip screamed at them. "Go go go!"

Graham was paralyzed, but Geoff snapped back quicker, grabbed Graham's hand, and sped off ahead of Trip. Her feet pounded against the dirt, the dusty air scorching in her lungs, but she kept running until she heard the Cloud activate far behind her.

To her surprise, it wasn't Monkey who shot up into the sky. It was Ben, flying a bit unevenly but at reckless speeds. He was just good enough with the Cloud to dive at the mech and keep it from using its tail while it tried to choose a target. Trip heard the gun fire a few times as Ben tried to coax the scorpion away from Monkey, but the mech was quickly learning that the firearm was noisy but nothing else.

Trip took half a dozen more steps and changed her mind.

She pulled in enough fiery air to bellow at Geoff. "Get him home! Get Graham back!"

"Where are you going?" Geoff shouted back at her, but Trip had already turned around and was running toward Monkey and Ben.

The scorpion's tail lashed furiously in the air, trying to knock Ben out of the sky and skewer Monkey at the same time.

"Hey, you hunk of metal!" Monkey shouted. "Come on, I'm right here! You big, stupid can opener!"

The scorpion's legs twisted madly and propelled it toward him, only to back off as Ben swooped down on the Cloud and pulled its attention away.

They wouldn't last much longer, if they didn't come up with something.

Monkey had already used all his ammunition against the mech, but without so much as denting its armor. His shoulders heaved as he leapt from side to side, dodging the scorpion's tail. Each time, he got a bit slower, until at last he mis-stepped, and the stinger caught his leg and rent flesh down to the ankle.

"Monkey!" Trip screamed, and he spun.

"Get out of here!" he shouted. "Get the kids home!"

"They're fine—they'll make it!" Trip said, and the scorpion turned to face her.

The mech rattled itself, its armor plates shifting as it bunched to rush them. Ben shouted, but the scorpion was no longer paying him the slightest attention, even when he dove so low that the Cloud buzzed the mech's sensors along its back.

Trip breathlessly shoved the EMP into Monkey's hand. "Here," she panted. "I'll distract it so you can hit the main board behind its headplate."

"You're too close to use your databand," Monkey said. "It won't go for a hologram."

"No, but it'll go for me."

"Trip, don't you—TRIP!"

She pushed him away roughly and started running toward the mech. "Come on, you see me!" Her red hair would show up on its sensors. Her bandaged arm, too, if it could pick up on those things. "Come on!"

The mech rumbled, its motors turning it toward the sound of her voice. "Yeah, come on!" She was already breathing hard, feeling every tendon in her ankle throb, but she turned from the mech and started leading it away.

This was different than the first time she'd seen the mech dog with Monkey. She was still scared, nearly out of her mind with terror, but it gave her a kick of adrenaline that set her brain faster, and her heart pumping wildly in her chest. As long as she kept moving, they stood a chance.

She risked a glance over her shoulder.

The scorpion was after her, full-tilt. It crushed saplings and ancient debris in its mad dash, its legs criss-crossing so fast she couldn't tell them apart. The tail was raised high, following her dodges easily in spite of its speed.

It was way too fast to outpace for much longer, but she vaulted over a fallen tree and ran until her chest wanted to burst.

"Monkey!" she screamed, and immediately heard him land with a thunderous crash on the scorpion's back.

Metal shrieked as he took hold of the protective plate and pulled. Trip skidded to a stop and fell, sending up a cloud of dust.

Ben was there in an instant, the Cloud whining under his feet. "You all right?"

"Fine," she wheezed.

The scorpion was trying to find a way to stab Monkey without impaling itself. Its tail swung around in a frenzy, and the mech's metal body rolled back and forth in an attempt to dislodge him. Monkey gripped the headplate with both hands and tore it free, and the mech wailed.

There was a faint pop of electricity. The scorpion shuddered and its eyes rolled wildly, trying to focus on anything, and it began to trip sideways.

Monkey held on with one hand, trying not to let it throw him.

"Monkey!" Trip shouted. "Monkey, look out!"

The scorpion's tail whipped up, and Monkey dove to the side as it stabbed down. He flew off the mech and landed hard on the ground in its path. The scorpion took another wobbling step toward him and began to tip over.

"Ben—" Trip started, but he was already up and gone on the Cloud.

He aimed, then leapt from the Cloud and sent it crashing into the mech's side and threw it off balance, away from Monkey.

Trip started running back the moment the scorpion toppled. It collapsed on its side, its legs still twitching. Monkey was back on top of it before Trip could shout again, tearing the wiring out of the back of its head. He took hold of the main line, yanked with all the strength he had left, and the mech went still.

All at once, the only noise was the slow hiss of pressure escaping from the mech's shell.

"Oh," Trip gasped. "Oh, God. Okay. Is everyone okay?"

Monkey climbed down the scorpion's shell gingerly, his pant leg tattered and bloody.

"Monkey?" Trip asked.

"It's fine."

"But—"

"I said it's fine!" he barked at her, and she shrank back.

"Monkey," Ben said. "Easy."

Monkey ignored him and walked up to Trip, favoring his injured leg. "You didn't listen to me," he said. "Again. You don't listen."

"I helped you," she said. "I saved your life! And Ben's!"

"You could have been killed!"

"So could you!"

They stared each other down, furious and twitching with adrenaline.

"When I tell you to do something—" Monkey said.

"Yeah?" Trip demanded. "What?"

Ben picked up the dented Cloud from the slain mech and collapsed it neatly. "We're going back."

Trip and Monkey didn't hear him at first. They didn't hear him until he stepped between them and said it again, and they snapped free of each other. "Back to town," Ben said. "We need to find Graham and Geoff. There are other things out here."

"Yeah, sorry," Trip said, and suddenly was. "They're okay. We could see the bridges when I turned back."

Ben put the Cloud in his bag and started back without saying anything else.

"There is going to be a day," Monkey said, nearly growling it, "that something I tell you will mean life or death."

"I understand that," Trip said, but he grabbed her hand and she quieted.

"If you don't listen, and you choose wrong, you're going to die, do you understand?" Monkey said, and she heard the desperation behind it. "Do you hear me? Listen to what I say, when I say it. If you don't, and I have to watch you die—"

He dropped her hand suddenly, and he turned away. "Don't do that again."

"Letting you get killed is supposed to be better?" she asked, but he was already leaving her behind.

She held back the thousands of things she wanted to say to his retreating back, and walked after him, dusting out his footprints with hers, back to Liberty.