By the time Reaper and Cassidy re-joined the others, Junkrat had the Ute sputtering back to life. It was not, he assured them, a lasting fix. But it was better than nothing, and for that they were all grateful. They carried on toward the long afternoon, the sun dipping in front of them, and reached the far end of the canyon just as sun was going down.
'We should rest here,' Mercy said.
Reaper silently agreed. The entire group felt the same way. They unpacked the back of the Ute and pulled out the supplies and water flasks, which they distributed evenly. Cassidy, though he said little, seemed extremely grateful, and tipped his head as each of his new companions passed him.
Junkrat, Reaper noticed, was still eyeing the cowboy with dangerous eyes. The tension eased when Road Hog eased his momentous bulk over to Junkrat and suggested they split apart from the group, leaving the others alone.
It was Mike who finally started the fire, and just in time. The sun had dived behind the horizon now, and was circling under the world to rise again the next morning. The longer it was gone the colder the desert would be. Already Tracy was shivering. Reaper did not feel the cold, but he could sense it creeping up on them like an old enemy.
'How far to this facility of yours?' Cassidy asked. He knew the vague details of their destination, but not the specifics. Neither did anyone else, for that matter, save Mike and Tracy who had apparently passed the building days earlier.
'Half a day, I think,' Mike replied, with a glance at Tracy, who nodded. 'We could be there before mid-day if we leave at dawn tomorrow. The trick will be getting in.'
'Last time we passed by we were almost wiped out,' Tracy added. 'There are lots of omnics in the area. Undead too. Some of them chased us for days. That's how I got so injured. I'd be dead now if not for Mercy.'
Reaper took this in without saying anything. Mercy nodded, gently, and Cassidy's lips pinched into an unhappy grimace. The cowboy – or perhaps, Reaper thought now, he was more the sheriff-type – had not left the canyon in some time. It was really no surprise that the thought of it was concerning to him.
'There are a lot of enemies between here and there,' Mike agreed. 'But if we move swiftly, and quietly, we won't have any trouble. We can work as a team. The trouble will be getting into the facility. It's guarded by… something.'
'Someone,' Tracy corrected.
'A few people.' Mike shrugged. 'We should be able to manage it.'
Reaper was interested to know more about this so-called outpost of civilisation. If there were people holding out within the facility, they could be useful. Or, Mike and Tracy could be lying. Leading their new friends to certain death so that they could flee on their own again.
The group disbanded not long after. Mike cleaned his sword with uncharacteristic care. Tracy checked her wounds, and discovered they were completely healed. Reaper stood to leave the camp. He might as well explore the area. Mercy caught up with him before he had walked a dozen paces.
'You're too obvious,' she admonished him before he could get a word in. 'The others will eventually notice that you don't sleep, and then they'll start watching you more closely. And then they'll start to notice me more closely.'
'And?' Reaper asked, allowing the frustrated tone of his voice to flood her mind. 'We have to tell them eventually. These men and women might be the last chance for…'
'Don't say that,' she snapped. 'Don't even say that. There are better men and better women out there. We have plenty of chances. We can still save humanity.'
Reaper thought about arguing the point, but decided against it. Mercy was full of hope. That was a part of who she was. He was a cynic, and he could not fight his nature either. They worked as a team because they balanced each other. His pragmatism, her optimism, and the cause which united them…
'I will tell them tomorrow,' Reaper promised.
'Don't you dare.' Mercy turned and walked away. He almost imagined he could see her wings bristling in annoyance, but they were packed away against the back plates of her armour, out of sight and out of mind.
He stepped into the shadows.
The darkness consumed him, welcomed him like the cold embrace of still water. It flooded over him and obscured him, and he became one with it. Not quite invisible, perhaps, but in the darkness he might as well have been.
He slipped past the campfire. Mike was still up, his eyelids drooping on his warmly lit Asian face as he watched the dancing flames. Tracy sat beside him, saying nothing, her arm wrapped around his. And opposite them was Cassidy. For a long time the lone ranger was absolutely still. Then he leaned forward, lit a new cigar in the open flame, and drew it into his mouth.
Reaper continued on.
Mercy was setting up tents using scraps of canvas they had harvested from the shanty town. They were not much to look at, scattered around as they were, but they would do. It was a very Mercy thing to do, Reaper decided; setting up tents that she would not even use. Mercy, like him, did not sleep. She was an angel, and had no need for it.
He was something else entirely.
Road Hog and Junkrat had not gone far, as he suspected they had not. But rather than emptying their bowels, the pair were actually ducking behind a large boulder and whispering to each other. Reaper, allowing the darkness to carry him, approached them as closely as he could without altering them to his presence.
'…tried to tell you earlier, didn't I, but all the others were around.' Junkrat was saying defensively. 'So lay off!'
Road Hog's voice was deep and guttural. 'Should've told me straight away. Fuck the others!'
'Trust me, we aren't wanting that kind of panic.'
'So how bad is it?'
'Really fucking bad. I'm talking an army as far as the eye can see. Every soul from the West coast is on their way, walking as one, clearing the land like a plague. I mean literally to the far reaches of what your eye can imagine, Hoggy. This is not a joke. Hundreds of thousands of undead…'
'How long do we have?'
The moon shone above now. The sky was a deep, royal blue, and the stars twinkled in its ceiling canvas with startling beauty. The deep browns of the canyon seemed grey. The dusty sand was similarly colourless.
Junkrat spoke with an air of defeatism. 'At the pace we made today we could outrun them all the way to the East Coast. But we can't keep up this pace. Another day or so and the car will break down again. Within the week we'll be facing more raids of undead or robots scattered in the area. We've got the facility to bust into tomorrow afternoon, if we manage it, and our supplies will be lucky to last the fortnight. And even then, Hoggy, even if all else goes to plan, I can only assume that there is a similarly large army approaching from the East. I don't know what's caused this nightmare, but it's not going to end that easily.'
'Put it into words for me,' Road Hog replied. 'What's the immediate problem?'
'The immediate problem is that ever since the fucking Fallout, no one's been dyin'.' Junkrat spat onto the cold night sand. 'The problem is that the government thought they could fix it all with robots that have turned against us. And the problem, my gluttonous friend, is that we're trapped in the middle of a continent full of enemies without any feasible way of reaching the coast. And if we did reach the coast…'
'Can't exactly swim to safety,' Road Hog completed the observation. 'So… we're fucked then?'
'Sure we're fucked, buddy. We've been fucked for weeks.' Junkrat was tinkering now with some tool he had found in his pocket. 'And since that's the case 'n' all, I reckon I'll have myself a shot at killing old Cassidy before all is said and done. A little revenge would do me a world of good.'
Road Hog said nothing to discourage his partner.
And Reaper, who had heard every word, slipped away into the night.
Mike and Tracy had claimed themselves a rag-tent by the time Reaper returned to the camp. He thought about intruding upon them, but then realised he had nothing to say. And besides, they were mid-conversation. He listened to them for just a moment – they were talking about a brother, and a stolen sword, and a disappointed father in a faraway country – when he realised that he had no right to intervene.
That was until Tracy mentioned something he had not heard before.
'I think,' she said, 'that I travelled in time yesterday. Maybe more than once.'
'Travelled in time?' Mike asked. 'That's ridiculous. That's impossible.'
'A lot of things used to be impossible. We used to say it was impossible for the dead to walk, or the world to end. Now they say it's impossible for us to keep on surviving in this world. But all those things are true.'
'But time travel…?'
'Just a few seconds. One moment I was standing in place, and the next I was back. I swear it's happened more than once. I'm flickering in and out of…'
'I'm going to stop you right there,' Mike replied. 'It's just not possible.'
'You're not listening to me, Mike. It happened. I felt it.'
'Maybe you just imagined it. You said it was only a few seconds. Perhaps you acted on instinct, and by the time you realised where you were it was…'
'Screw you, Mike.' Tracy stood to leave. The rustling of loose tent sheets warned Reaper to step aside just in time. She glanced straight past him in the darkness. 'Screw you for not believing me, when I believe all the crap you say.'
'Come back!' Mike called.
He was too late. Tracy was gone.
Reaper wondered what Tracy meant by time travel, and wished she had finished the conversation. He considered going after her, but there was no easy way to bring up the topic without admitting that he had been listening in to her private chat.
He had been doing that a lot lately; listening to people's private moments, following them in the darkness. He needed to know everything he could about these humans, what type of people they were, what was in their character that could be used, could be trusted, could be valuable. Mercy hated him for it. It was in her nature to believe the best of people, especially under pressure, but Reaper had no such faith.
Faith, perhaps, was what divided them. He would never have it. Mercy certainly would. But faith in people was not something he would allow them to trust in. At least, not blind faith, and not in these people. There was too much at stake.
He found Mercy sitting alone, beyond the campfire.
'Did you discover anything new?' she asked.
'Nothing of significant value.'
'Are you proud of yourself?'
'I do what I must.' Reaper did not want to justify himself to Mercy. They had agreed to work as a team, yes, but he was not answerable to her.
'Well, I guess that settles it.' She stood in a huff and left.
Not for the first time, Reaper found himself alone. He did not believe Mercy had the right to be upset at him, but he would not dwell on it. In a few more minutes he would do another round, and try yet again to discover what drove these people. Tomorrow night he would do the same. And again the next night. Until he knew more about these people than they knew about themselves.
The sound of a throat clearing broke into his reverie. He turned to see Cassidy, his red scarf wrapped around his neck, sit up. The cowboy had been lounging behind an upturned log to the left of where he had been sitting. It was a simple, but remarkable place to hide. In the moonlit darkness Reaper never would have spotted him.
He wondered how much of the conversation Cassidy had heard, and silently allowed himself to be grateful that neither he, nor Mercy, had mentioned anything unmentionable.
'You're not the only one who can spy on his fellows.' Cassidy drawled. 'I saw you watchin' Mike and Tracy earlier. And the boys before that.' He squinted his eyes further. 'I don't trust you, mask-face. I appreciate you savin' my life back in the canyon, but we're not mates. You betray us and I'll stop you. I'll do whatever I need to.'
Reaper smiled beneath the mask, and projected his voice into Cassidy's mind with the most sinister, threatening tone he could muster.
'You're welcome to try.'