They landed back at the cabin.

  Clay staggered off the platform and shook himself like a wet dog. His face had gone pale. He looked down at his hands, turning them over, counting his fingers. Then his hand went to his chest, pressing where the arrow had been.

  The room wobbled. Everything flickered for a second, the walls bending at the edges, then snapping back into place.

  Colt blinked it away. Ten seconds. Same as before.

  "Alright," Colt said. "We need to find that Shoshone man. Get that shinki, or Puha, whatever Kev called it."

  Clay rubbed his chest again. "Why do you think he's gonna help us?"

  "He helped you. That arrow in your chest. He fixed you. Pulled it out and touched the hole. Closed you right up."

  Clay's hand pressed harder against his shirt.

  "You didn't see it, Clay, but there were wolves, man. Skinwalkers. Like Pa told us about."

  Clay let out a breath. "I'd say I'd have to see it to believe it, but considerin' ninjas, Kevin, and that big fucker I plucked that big shinki from..." He shook his head. "Yeah. Let's go find the Shoshone. Where do we start?"

  Colt opened his map.

  The familiar layout of Earth 265 spread out in front of him. He scanned it, looking for the mountains Pa used to talk about.

  "Northeast," Colt said. "Near the mountains. That's where Pa said they live."

  Clay crossed to the supply shelf and grabbed a strip of jerky. He tore off a chunk with his teeth and chewed loud.

  "That's like twenty miles from here," he said around the mouthful.

  "Yeah. Let's get walkin'."

  Clay grabbed a few more strips and shoved them in his coat pocket. He glanced back at the platform, then at Colt.

  "You actually ate them little gray balls that metal man made?"

  Colt adjusted his satchel. "I was hungry.”

  "Hungry enough to put somethin' in your mouth that came outta that thing?" Clay shook his head. "I don't trust nothin' about that place. The lights. The hummin'. That little bastard stutter steppin’ around talkin' like… like some little freak.”

  "If it weren’t for Kevin, your body would be cold as Pa’s.”

  "Don't mean I gotta eat his food." Clay bit off another chunk of jerky. "This here's real. Came from a real animal. Dried by real hands."

  Colt didn't argue. His stomach was still growling, and the jerky did smell good. The last batch pa had made. Venison.

  Clay tossed him a strip. Colt caught it and shoved it in his pocket.

  "C'mon," Colt said. "We're burnin' daylight."

  * * *

  They walked slow at first

  The sun moved across the sky. The trees thickened, then thinned, then thickened again. The ground rose and fell under their boots. Neither of them said much.

  Hours passed.

  They came across ninja bodies here and there, scattered through the woods where the fighting had torn through. Every time Colt checked the base of a skull, he found the same thing.

  Nothing. Hole already torn open. Crystal gone.

  "We've had to have seen a dozen of these damn ninjas," Colt said. "Not a single shinki in their heads."

  Clay didn't answer. He'd stopped walking.

  "Colt." He pointed at the ground. "There."

  Bear scat. A fresh pile, dark and wet, sitting in a patch of crushed grass.

  Clay grabbed a stick from the brush. He crouched down and started poking at the pile, breaking it apart.

  The stick hit something hard.

  Clay pushed at it, working the stick around the edges. A moment later, a crystal rolled out of the mess, slick and stinking but glowing faint violet.

  Clay grinned. "Ha!"

  Colt stared at it. His nose wrinkled. "Ugh. I guess."

  He grabbed a big leaf from a nearby bush, wrapped it around the crystal, and dropped it in the satchel. He wiped his fingers on his pants.

  PROJECT: LAST STAND v1.01

  Shinki: 1

  "Shit shinki after all," Clay said, still grinning.

  Colt frowned. "Let's keep movin'."

  The light started to fade. Shadows stretched long between the trees. The temperature dropped with the sun.

  Clay stopped walking and looked around. "We should set up camp."

  Colt looked at the sky. Orange bleeding into pink. They weren't gonna make twenty miles today. Not even close.

  "Yeah," he said. "Alright."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Clay nodded toward a flat spot between two big pines. "I'll clear us a spot. You get some wood."

  Colt set down his satchel and moved into the trees. He gathered what he could find, dead branches, dry bark, a few chunks of rotted log that would burn slow. By the time he got back, Clay had kicked the pine needles away and scraped out a shallow pit with the heel of his boot.

  They built a small fire. Nothing big. Just enough to cut the chill and see each other's faces.

  Clay sat down across from Colt and pulled the jerky from his coat. He tore off a strip and handed it over.

  Colt took it. Chewed slow. The salt hit his tongue and his stomach growled loud enough for both of them to hear.

  Clay snorted. "Told ya man. Fuck them gray balls.”

  "Shut up."

  They ate in silence for a while. The fire popped and crackled. Somewhere in the dark, an owl called out.

  The fire had burned down to coals. Orange light flickered across Clay's face.

  "You think Pa knew?" Clay asked. He didn't look up. Just stared into the embers.

  Colt chewed the last of his jerky. "Knew what?"

  "About all this." Clay waved a hand at nothing. At everything. "The ninjas. The, uh, things we traveled through. That little metal man. You think he knew?"

  Colt thought about it. Pa's stories. The way he talked about the Shoshone like he'd met them, not just heard about them. The skinwalker tales that always felt a little too detailed.

  "Maybe," Colt said. "He knew somethin'. Don't know how much."

  Clay picked up a stick and poked at the coals. Sparks drifted up into the dark.

  "Wish he'd told us."

  "Yeah."

  They sat quiet for a while. The fire popped. Somewhere out in the trees, something moved through the brush. Small. Probably a rabbit.

  "What's the plan?" Clay asked. "If the Shoshone don't help?"

  Colt didn't answer right away. He didn't have an answer.

  "We figure it out," he said finally.

  "That ain't a plan, Colt."

  "It's what I got."

  Clay shook his head. He tossed the stick into the coals and leaned back against a tree trunk.

  "We almost died today," he said. Quieter now.

  Colt looked at him. Clay's eyes were still on the fire.

  "I know," Colt said.

  Clay nodded once. Didn't say anything else.

  After a while, his breathing slowed. His head tipped back against the bark. He was out.

  Colt stayed up a little longer, watching the coals fade from orange to gray. Then he lay back on the cold ground, pulled his coat tighter, and closed his eyes.

  He didn't dream. Not at first.

  Then…

  White. Everything white. Walls. Floor. Ceiling. Light so bright it hurt to look at.

  He wasn't standing. He was floating. Or maybe he didn't have a body at all. Just eyes. Just watching.

  People moved around him. White coats. Goggles over their faces. They didn't see him. They walked right through where he was, talking in voices he couldn't understand. The words were there but they slid off his mind like rain off leather.

  He tried to turn his head. It moved slow, like pushing through mud.

  Vats. Rows of them. Glass tubes taller than a man, filled with murky liquid. Things floated inside. Small things. Curled up. Not moving.

  Babies. No. Not babies yet. Earlier than that.

  He drifted past them. Each vat had a label. Numbers. Earth numbers.

  117

  042

  089

  203

  Some of them were bigger. Further along. Limbs forming. Fingers curling.

  One of them opened its eyes.

  Colt tried to pull back but he couldn't move. The thing in the vat stared at him. Its eyes were white, no color, no pupils.

  He kept drifting. More vats. More numbers. More bodies in different stages, floating in that thick liquid like pickles in a jar.

  Then he stopped.

  One vat, separate from the others. Bigger. The glass was thicker. The liquid inside was clearer.

  The label read 265.

  Inside, a body floated. Small. Curled. An infant.

  Colt's eyes snapped open.

  Gray sky above. Cold air on his face. The fire was dead. Clay was still asleep, snoring soft against the tree.

  Colt's heart was pounding. His shirt was soaked through with sweat.

  He sat up and pressed his hand on his chest. He could feel his heart pounding. I’m still me, just me. He thought.

  He didn't know what he'd seen. Didn't know if it was real or just his brain making things up.

  But his hands were shaking.

  He didn't go back to sleep.

  Colt sat there in the gray light, watching Clay's chest rise and fall. His brother's snoring was the only sound in the woods.

  He wasn't going back to sleep. Not after that.

  He focused on the corner of his vision.

  PROJECT: LAST STAND v1.01

  Stats

  Status

  Map

  Armory

  Module Bay: LOCKED

  Skills: LOCKED

  Help

  ?????

  ?????

  ?????

  He looked at Stats. It lit up and opened.

  Stats:

  Strength: 15 (?)

  Speed: 20 (?)

  Endurance: 15 (?)

  Perception: 15 (?)

  Willpower: 10 (?)

  Resonance: 5 (?)

  Luck: 10 (?)

  Colt stared at the numbers. He didn't know what any of them meant. Fifteen what? Fifteen out of what? Why was speed so high? What the hell was resonance?

  He looked at Strength. Focused on the little question mark next to it.

  A box opened up.

  Strength:

  Physical power. Affects melee damage, carrying capacity, and brute force actions.

  Colt grunted. That one made sense at least.

  He looked at Speed.

  Speed:

  Quickness of movement and reflexes. Affects reaction time, evasion, and attack speed.

  He’s always been fast. Had to out here.

  Endurance:

  Stamina and toughness. Affects how long you can fight, run, or resist physical damage.

  Perception:

  Awareness of surroundings. Affects accuracy, tracking, and detection of threats or hidden objects.

  That one made sense too. He'd been hunting since he could walk.

  Willpower:

  Mental fortitude. Affects resistance to fear, manipulation, and mental attacks.

  Ten felt low. But he thought about the dream he just had. The way his hands were still shaking. Maybe ten was right.

  Resonance:

  Connection to cosmic energy. Affects shinki absorption, capacity, and sensitivity to external power sources.

  Five. That was the lowest one. He didn't know what that meant, but it didn't sound good.

  Then he looked at Luck.

  Luck: 10 (?)

  He focused on the question mark.

  Luck:

  Probability modifier. Affects critical hits, loot quality, random encounters, and outcomes in uncertain situations.

  Colt closed the menu.

  He looked over at Clay, still snoring.

  "Guess I'm lucky I got you," he muttered.

  Clay didn't stir.

  Colt leaned back against a tree and waited for the sun to come up.

  Something glinted between the trees.

  Eyes.

  Colt sat up fast. His hand went to his revolver.

  "Clay." He crawled over and shook his brother's shoulder. "Clay, wake up."

  "What—what?" Clay grabbed his shotgun and stood, swinging the barrel around. "What is it?"

  Colt pointed toward the eyes.

  Clay raised the shotgun and aimed. His finger found the trigger.

  The eyes lowered. Getting ready to move.

  Colt grabbed the barrel and pushed it down.

  "Wait," he said.

  Clay looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Wait for what?"

  The eyes came closer. Into the moonlight.

  A wolf. Smaller than the black one from before. White fur that seemed to glow in the dim. And eyes that weren't wolf eyes at all.

  Human eyes.

  The hair on Colt's arms stood up. He whispered it before he could stop himself.

  "Skinwalker."

  Clay took a step back. His grip on the shotgun tightened. "Colt..."

  The wolf didn't move toward them. It just stood there, watching. Its breath fogged in the cold air.

  Then it turned its head. Looked off into the trees to the east. Let out a short bark, quick and sharp.

  It looked back at them. Then it ran. East. Into the dark between the pines.

  Clay lowered the shotgun a little. "You think it wants us to follow it?"

  Colt looked up. The sky had started to lighten along the horizon. The sun was coming. Not up yet, but close.

  "Yeah," he said. "I think so."

  They didn't talk about it. Clay kicked dirt over the dead coals. Colt stamped it down with his boot. They grabbed their things and started moving.

  The white wolf was waiting for them at the tree line. When they got close, it turned and ran again.