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By Root 542 0

their ground, even in the face of certain destruction. It had been in their nature to stand and fight, to refuse to be intimidated, to give their lives for what they believed. Even when governments began to disintegrate or simply vanished altogether, the people stood fast. Their faith would protect them, they believed. Their courage was a shield against the worst of it. But they were wrong, and in the end most of them died. The ones who survived were the ones who understood that while faith and courage were necessary, they weren’t enough. Good judgment and sound reasoning had to be exercised as well. When the world was collapsing around your ears, you had to know when to stand fast and when to turn and run. There was a time and a place for both.

Even for him. Even for a Knight of the Word.

He pulled off the road at the edge of the city into what had once been a small park and was now a barren stretch of ground with a few broken picnic tables and some rusted playground equipment. Parked with the hood of the Lightning facing west, he sat in the vehicle and ate his lunch. Eating no longer held much pleasure for him. The food was prepackaged and uninteresting. He ate to keep strong and to stay alive. It was the same with sleep, which was rough and troubled. He slept because he had to and wouldn’t have otherwise because he hated the dreams that surfaced like phantoms, dreams of his past, reminders of the madness he had endured. But it did not matter what he wanted; the dreams were an unpleasant fact of his life.

As was so much, he thought. As was almost everything.

He was still eating when the men appeared from behind him. He had forgotten to set the perimeter alarms on the S-l50 and was lost in his thoughts when they materialized suddenly on either side of the vehicle, their weapons pointed at him. They had crept up on him like predators, careful to mask their approach and to take their time. It didn’t hurt their efforts that he had been so self-absorbed, he’d failed to pay attention to his surroundings. They were a sorry-looking lot, soiled and ragged and smelling of sweat. They carried a mix of rifles and handguns, older weapons from before the rise of the once-men. They smiled as they surrounded him, satisfaction a bright gleam in their mad eyes.

They had caught him unprepared and they knew it.

Stupid, he chastised himself. Stupid and careless.

“Get out,” the one standing next to him ordered, touching him on the shoulder with a long-barreled automatic.

He already had his right hand on his staff as he opened the door with his left and levered himself out of the Lightning, pretending that he needed the staff for support. He limped away from the vehicle, glancing from one man to the other, counting heads. There were four of them—hard-featured and wild-eyed, looters and thieves. They would shoot him without a second thought if he gave them even the slightest excuse. They would shoot their own mothers.

“We’re confiscating your vehicle for official purposes,” said the speaker, keeping the automatic leveled on him.

“Iowa militia?” he asked, backing away.

“Whatever,” one of the others muttered, running his hands over the smooth surface of the AV.

The first man smiled and nodded. “Official business,” he repeated. “We’ll return your vehicle when we’re finished.”

He seemed to enjoy the charade, the man in charge, the leader, turning now to the others and motioning them to climb in. Logan stood watching as they did so, waiting. His hand tightened on the staff, and the slow build of the magic began to take hold deep inside, working its way through his body and limbs. He could feel its heat, could sense the impending adrenaline rush. He was suddenly eager for it, anticipating the satisfaction it would give him, his one small pleasure in an otherwise disappointing existence.

He took another step back. “What happened to the people here?”

They got sick,” one answered.

‘Real sick,” said another.

“So sick they died,” said the first, grinning.

“The lucky ones, anyway/’ said the second.

The men were settling themselves in place,