Odeby was a wreck of a town. With broken windows, peeling paint and crumbling brickwork, very few buildings looked safe. Weeds and vines were overgrown in places where only the hardiest of plants could grow, the rest of the small town, barely more than a few streets, seemed to be being reclaimed by the desert. Banks of sand, blown by the hot desert wind, nestled against the sides of buildings, ironically providing protection against the harsh acid rainstorms. To all appearances it gave the impression of a movie set for a ghost town. Except this was no movie set and both Jet and Death wondered if there were more than ghosts inhabiting the old, seemingly abandoned, buildings.

Slowing the jeep to a gentle stop, Dr Death Defying placed a finger against his lips as he listened intently. The wind whistled through broken windows and half-collapsed walls of the buildings either side of them and occasionally a few fallen leaves would roll by. Death frowned; the leaves were still green. However they had fallen, it probably hadn’t been a natural process. One or two, he noticed, as they moved past at some speed were lightly singed, suggesting a recent firefight. His gun was drawn and he was pushing down on Jet’s shoulder, trying to force him lower in the jeep for protection.

“Let me help,” Jet whispered, understanding the doctor’s intentions.
“I don’t even know what...”

Death Defying stopped abruptly as the high-pitched whine of a concentrated burst of energy from a ray gun exploded near the drivers side front wheel. The sand sizzled as Death and Jet both ducked for cover while peering up and out for any sign of their attackers, acutely aware that they were sitting ducks in the army jeep with its open sides and, whilst thick and waterproof, only military grade canvas stretched over the frame for a roof.

“Can you see anything?” Jet whispered, still straining to locate their attacker.
“No,” Death replied.

He continued to search, casting determined glances over every surface and behind every obstacle and vantage point but saw nothing. Silently, however, he noted that no further shots were fired. Did that mean that there was only one assailant or merely that one warning shot was considered enough?

Contemplating their next move, Death was surprised to hear a voice coming from a nearby building.

“What’s the password?” A man called.

Death and Jet’s heads both turned sharply to the source of the voice only to hear the same man again but from a different building.

“What the hell is going on?” Death muttered under his breath. “How is he moving around so much?”
“What’s the password?” The voice called again, seemingly from yet another building.
“Tunnels?” Jet ventured quietly. “He can’t be moving around above ground, we’d see him.”
“Hmm,” Death mused. “Or speakers, maybe?”
“Yeah,” Jet agreed. “That would be easier, but how does it help?”
“It doesn’t,” Death grumbled before calling out to the mysterious man. “I don’t know anything about a password, we’re just travelling but we need somewhere to rest for the night.”
“We?” The voice called back after a few moments. “I only see you.”
“There’s just me and a boy.”
“Step down from the jeep.”

Death sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging as he wondered if he would be believed.

“I can’t, I...”
“Step down now! Or my next shot won’t be a warning!”
“No!” Jet cried in alarm. “He can’t! He’s in a wheelchair!”
“Oh, really,” the man laughed. “So how’s he driving then?”
“The pedal controls have been adapted into levers by the dashboard, so I only need to use my hands. Look we just need to rest for the night and we’ll be gone.”

A long pause followed before a shape emerged from the doorway of the nearby church. The man, dressed in the vestments of a priest stepped forward into the fading light, illuminated only by the jeep’s headlights.

“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know,” Death admitted with a sigh. “Just... just away from Battery City, as far as we can get.”
“You’re criminals?” The priest asked.
“No,” Death answered immediately.

The priest turned a curious glance toward the pair as he stepped forward close enough that they could make out his features. Probably younger than he looked, his weatherbeaten, almost leathery skin caused him to appear prematurely aged. His fair, messy hair and greying beard only added to his ‘crazy old man’ presentation. Death could see that he would have been taller but for an already forming stoop to his posture and he seemed hungry and tired. But, that wasn’t the only thing Death could see.

“You’re injured,” he commented, spotting the limp and cane the man walked with.
“What of it?” He snapped in return. “I can still shoot!”
“I’m a doctor,” he replied kindly. “I can help.”

The man chewed his lip thoughtfully as he considered Death’s words. The pain in his leg had increased tenfold over the last few weeks. Perhaps the appearance of these two runaways was quite literally a Godsend.

“I’m Father Dom,” he announced. “Do you need help getting down from the jeep?”
“No, thank you,” Death replied with a brief shake of his head. “It’s rigged with a harness to lower me into the chair and Jet can wheel that around. I’m Dr Death Defying.”

By now the priest had limped closer to the jeep and, reholstering his gun, extended his hand to welcome the pair. Accepting the handshake, Death squinted at the priest as he racked his memory.

“Do I know you?” Death asked as Jet wheeled the chair around.
“Doubt it,” the priest replied gruffly.
“It’ll come to me,” he insisted, activating the hoist that would lower him into the wheelchair.
“If you say so,” Father Dom replied with a slight shake of his head. “I don’t know many people, never was the sociable type.”
“Chaplain Dominic Forster!” Death chuckled, breaking into a grin as the priest’s eyes widened.
“You were in the army?” He gasped. “I don’t... What regiment?”
“Thirty-Ninth, Medical Corps,” Death replied, his back automatically stiffening as he spoke as if standing to attention.

Jet smiled as he watched the exchange with interest. With the doctor now comfortable in the wheelchair, Jet leaned on the handles as the two soldiers connected.

“Thirty-ninth?” Father Dom repeated slowly. “Medical... That would be Colonel Star’s company?”
“Brigadier-Major Star,” Death corrected.

The priest smiled knowingly.

“Test passed.” Smiling with curiosity, he continued. “And that would make you...?”
“Dr Death Defying, no name, rank or number now,” he replied with a regretful sigh.

The former chaplain nodded his understanding. Out in the outskirts of the Zones, names weren’t nearly as useful as they had once been and in certain cases could be considered dangerous.

“Quite so. Come on, you look tired, let’s get you both inside.”

Father Dom glanced at Jet almost for the first time and smiled. Part of him was glad of the company, however brief it may be.

“Jet, could you park the jeep out of sight, please?” Death asked, tossing him the keys.
“Yes, sir,” Jet replied, catching the keys.

Death sighed noisily.

‘Jet, please, I’ve said this before and I meant it! Call me Doc or D or something,” he offered an almost pleading expression. “Anything but ‘sir’; it makes me feel so old!”

Laughing at the dispirited tone, Jet offered his own teasing response.

“Yessir!” He grinned.
“Funny!” The doctor grumbled. “Just move the jeep.”

Following the limping priest, Death headed for the church, pointing to ensure Jet had noticed where they were going.

“Let’s see what I can do about your leg,” he added.

*

Frankie stared at the bulging bag, drawing his lips into a thin line. There was no way, with all the encouragement in the world, that Mikey was going to be able to close the zip.

“Something’s got to go,” he finally spoke, shaking his head.
“But we agreed, everything was essential,” Mikey complained. “I’ve packed and repacked that bag like a Tetris champion and I can’t get it all in.”
“So something’s got to go,” Frankie repeated, pointing at the bag with an open palm.

Mikey flopped down on the bed with a deep sigh. Hanging his head he stared vacantly at the floor, barely focusing on anything.

“Nothing in there seems important any more.”

Frankie’s nose crumpled slightly as he ran through the contents in his mind.

“What about that hoodie?”
“But you said it gets cold in the Zones,” Mikey looked up at his friend wearing a quizzical expression.
“Yeah, but, you could wear it, then you don’t have to pack it,” Frankie shrugged. “It’s taking up a lot of room.”

Mikey’s expression blanked for a moment, before he leapt suddenly to his feet and cupping the younger boy’s cheeks, kissed him firmly on the forehead.

“You’re a genius!” He cried, reaching in to pull the bulky item from the backpack. “There!” He exclaimed elated as he fastened the zip easily and with a flourish.
“Think I’ll have to be careful how I show my brilliance around you in future,” Frankie grinned, eliciting an embarrassed blush from his friend. “It’s okay,” he grinned at the reaction. “I guess I am pretty amazing,” he added with a playful shrug.

Losing his smile as Mikey appeared to disappear into a daze, Frankie placed a hand on his arm.

“Hey? Are you okay?” he asked. “I was kidding, you know?”

Mikey looked down at the uncertain expression now settled on his friend’s face. He hated that Frankie could be made to doubt himself in an instant; blaming himself for the slightest mood change of those around him.

“Frankie,” Mikey allowed a slow sigh to leave his lips. “This isn’t anything you’ve said or done, this is just me thinking about how everything is going to change again. It feels scary, but it feels familiar too and I don’t know why. And, you know, somehow, that’s even worse.”
“I don’t understand,” Frankie frowned at the explanation.

Mikey’s creased brow smoothed as he rolled his eyes and shook his head before looking around the room.

“Neither do I,” he admitted, allowing his arms to flap out to the side briefly in an exaggerated shrug. “It... it’s just it feels like I’ve done something like this before, but I haven’t. I don’t know what the feeling is, except it’s familiar and that’s scary on its own.”

Frankie drew his lips into a thin line as he considered Mikey’s words.

“I don’t know what to say,” he shrugged.
“It’s weird,” Mikey nodded. “Maybe it’s something I can ask Gee about? Maybe he’ll know what it reminds me of?”

Frankie nodded enthusiastically; it seemed likely that Gerard, at three years’ Mikey’s senior, would remember more than his brother.

“What about all this?” Frankie asked. “Will you miss it?”
“I guess,” Mikey nodded. “If I’m honest. But I’m not regretting this,” he added in a determined tone. “If Gee stays, Korse’ll end up killing him. I just wish I knew why...”

Frankie noted that Mikey’s voice had trailed off again as he descended into his thoughts and his attempts to understand the exterminator’s actions. To Frankie’s mind, he didn’t need to try to understand. It was easy, the man was nothing but a cruel and sadistic psychopath, who only did what was in his own best interests. Nothing, not even the idea of Korse murdering his own nephews, would surprise him any more. Looking with sympathy at the younger Way brother, Frankie moved closer to offer a comforting hug. It didn’t seem to him to be much to offer but it was gratefully received.

“We’re ready, then?” Mikey asked, finally pulling back from the hug.

Frankie noticed the determined tone and recognised the brave attempt to sound decisive and final.

“Yeah,” he copied Mikey’s tone and straight-backed posture - he would be brave too. “We’re ready.”

*

Gerard glanced up, expecting to see the doctor coming to let him out of the cell and an escort to take him home. There was, however, part of him that fused to accept that it would be just that easy. His worst fears seemed confirmed as the door opened to reveal Exterminator Korse standing in the doorway. Gerard rose slowly to his feet, a quizzical expression lodged on his face.

“I hear you’ve convinced the doctor that you’re not brainwashed,” Korse tipped his head; for a brief moment, Gerard sensed a certain grudging respect for the achievement.
“That’s because I’m not,” he replied quietly, uncertain how else to respond and unwilling to show any sign of fear or weakness, no matter how he felt.
“This places me in a difficult situation, Gerard. You know I can’t just let you return home, don’t you?”
“You’re going to wipe my memory?” Gerard asked nervously; his fear beginning to show, despite his best efforts.

Korse laughed and shook his head.

"No,” he chuckled. “‘How could I possibly justify that?”

For the briefest of moments relief flickered across Gerard’s face before he realised that that could only mean that something worse was going to happen.

“What, then?” He asked, forcing his voice to hold as steady as possible without success.

Korse stared at his nephew with a facial expression not dissimilar to a lion about to devour its prey. His eyes were cold, self-interested and determined with an air of inevitability about his intentions.

“You’re going to escape, of course,” he shrugged.
“You’re...” Gerard frowned; Korse’s intentions although seemingly chosen and fixed were hard to determine and he found his mind racing with the various possibilities. “What are you going to do?”
“Do?” His lips curled up into a cruel smirk. “Why, I’m going to kill you, of course.”

Gerard took a small step backwards, more to reset his balance than an attempt to escape after receiving the unexpected and terrifying response.

“In here?” He shook his head at the same time to try to disguise the shake in his voice. “No, you wouldn’t. How could you possibly explain that?”
“Well, I couldn’t, of course,” he replied with a sneer.

Still staring back, uncertain what options were available to him, Gerard knew better than to feel relief. This was just the pause before Korse revealed the second part of his cruel and vicious plan to dispose of the boy who had now become a dangerous inconvenience to him.

“The official story is that you agreed to lead me to the rebels but it was a ruse. You tried to escape, or rather they tried to rescue you and sadly, you were killed in the ensuing firefight. What a terrible loss to BLI and to Mikey. Your irritating little friend will be discovered to be the one who rallied the rebels on your behalf and will be sentenced to death and executed... by Mikey.”

Gerard’s eyes widened at the sheer cruelty of the plan and the man’s, his uncle’s, determination to see it through.

“You cold-hearted bastard!” Gerard snapped in a strange combination of hatred and terror. “You don’t care about anyone, do you?”

Korse laughed. It was a deep, hollow and intimidating laugh. Stepping forward towards the terrified boy, Korse offered an almost gloating expression as with each step forward, Gerard took one backward. Finally, as Gerard found himself backed up against the wall, the exterminator locked eyes with his nephew as he continued:

“On the contrary, Gerard,” he chuckled unpleasantly, “I care a great deal for myself. You could have been great, Gerard You could have become powerful. BLI and Battery City was at your feet, but you took the wrong path.”

Korse snatched at Gerard’s arms as he tried to dodge past him. Forcing one arm up his back almost to the point of dislocation, Korse slammed Gerard up against the wall, his shoulder almost separating in the process. Only by his quick thinking did Gerard manage to jerk his head back, straining the muscles in his neck, but narrowly avoiding being knocked out by the expected collision. In his fury at the boy’s continued consciousness, Korse twisted Gerard’s arm further, causing a sharp and piercing pain to run from his shoulder, up his neck and into his head, almost overwhelming him. A weak cry escaped his lips and his knees buckled under him as the brutal, stabbing pain took his breath away. Feeling Korse’s other hand on the back of his head, Gerard realised he was only moments away from his forehead being forced swiftly against the wall. Closing his eyes tightly, it was only then that he heard the aggravated growl from Korse’s lips the man he realised that the lightly padded walls of the cell would prevent the outcome he desired. Turning Gerard quickly and forcing him back against the wall, he raised a fist to complete the attack only to find the soft cushioning absorbing the power of his fist as Gerard ducked suddenly, twisting and scrabbling to free himself of the exterminator’s grip. He may have been disorientated, terrified and and in a lot of pain, but he was alive and determined to remain so.

Notes

Hello love readers - assuming you’re still able to find this now and still reading. The site’s got a bit messed up, so if you want to keep reading it’s also on Wattpad and AO3.

Hope we to hear from you either here or on one of the other sites.

Take care
Sas xx