The standoff was a fragile, terrifying thing, a tableau of mutual distrust in the flickering firelight and the harsh beams of their phones. The smell of cooked meat, once so intoxicating, was now a nauseating backdrop to the heavy tension. On one side, their ragged group of sixteen. On the other, a dozen figures, weapons aimed. They were human. And that, Leo thought with a grim certainty, probably made them more dangerous.
"We're not looking for trouble," Chloe called out, her hands raised, palms open.
"Found it anyway," the woman's voice shot back. A figure detached itself from the shadows. She was tall, with a lean, hard build and short-cropped gray hair. She wore a patched-up security guard's uniform, a heavy revolver strapped to her thigh. Her face was a roadmap of brutal survival. "You're making a hell of a lot of noise. Drawing things to our position."
"We were running," Chloe explained, her voice tight. "From… Hounds."
The woman's expression didn't change, but a flicker of something passed through her watchful eyes. "Hounds," she repeated, the word a curse. "You outran Hounds? With them?" She gestured with her head toward the huddled survivors, her disbelief plain.
"We had help," Chloe said, her gaze flickering for a second toward the gurney.
The woman's eyes followed. They settled on Leo. On his pale, blood-streaked face. On the strange, soft blue glow from the bag at his feet. Her eyes narrowed. "What's your name?" she demanded, her question aimed directly at Leo.
"Leo," he managed, his voice a raw croak.
"I'm Valerie," she said, her voice leaving no room for pleasantries. "This is my station. My rules. And my first rule is, no liabilities. You," she said, her gaze sweeping over the survivors, "are a liability. And you," she said, her eyes locking back onto Leo, "are either a bigger one, or you're something else entirely. I need to know which."
Arthur stepped forward. "His presence here increases our group's overall survival probability by a factor of twelve. He is the single most valuable asset we have."
Valerie's lips twisted into a thin, mirthless smile. "An asset that can't walk. Not what I'd call a good investment."
The barking started again. Distant, but unmistakable. Echoing down the long, dark tunnel. The Hounds were still coming.
The survivors let out a collective gasp. The figures around the fire tensed.
"See?" Valerie's voice was a low, angry growl. "You brought them right to our doorstep."
"Let us in," Leo said, his voice stronger now, fueled by a surge of adrenaline. "Let us in, and we can help you. Give you an advantage."
"What kind of advantage?" Valerie challenged.
"Intel," Leo said. A helpdesk tech's job wasn't to fight. It was to provide solutions. "Ben," he called out. "The network."
Ben, his hands trembling, fumbled with his tablet. "There's a local network here. Human-made. Encrypted. Strong."
"I can see things," Leo said, his gaze fixed on Valerie. "Things you can't. I can tell you how many of them are coming. How fast they're moving. Their weaknesses. I can see their code."
The statement hung in the air, insane and unbelievable. But in this new, broken world, the insane was the only thing that made sense. Valerie stared at him, her hard, weathered face a mask of warring emotions. Disbelief. Suspicion. And a single, tiny, desperate flicker of hope.
The barking was closer. A frantic, hungry sound.
Valerie made a decision. A choice born not of trust, but of a brutal, pragmatic calculus. A calculated risk.
"The gate," she commanded, her voice a sharp, authoritative crack. Two of her people moved to a large barrier made of scrap metal and heaved it open. "You have thirty seconds. Get in here. Anything that's not on this side of the gate when it closes is on its own."
The survivors surged forward, a stampede of pure terror. Mark and Eva grabbed the gurney, half-dragging, half-carrying Leo toward the opening. He got one last look back down the tunnel. A new, brilliant floodlight flared to life from Valerie's barricade, piercing the darkness. And it revealed them.
Not two hounds. A pack. A dozen of them, their red eyes burning. And behind them, their hulking, armored forms just beginning to emerge from the deeper darkness, were the Ogres.
The real army had found them.
The heavy gate slammed shut behind them with a deafening, final boom. They were in. They were safe. For now. And they had just led the wolves right to the door of another flock.