Morgan, Frank, and Mara made good progress towards the mill. It was outside town on the northeastern side. As they progressed through the burned-out shells of buildings, where the inferno had warped and rippled the pavement of the road, they had to cover their faces to keep from breathing the swirling ash.

  The smell of charred wood and burnt rubber was so thick in the air that Morgan could taste it through the cloth over his face. This area was where his apartment had stood; the entire five square blocks in this sector had been leveled, almost flat. The ash swirled in the wind, piling into drifts that were waist-deep in places.

  “I think we should keep to the edges, stay out of sight as much as possible,” Frank advised.

  “Good idea, will also help not breathe in this ash,” Morgan replied. He thought but didn’t say, people had been cremated in this fire, and he didn’t want to inhale someone’s dead body. Mara just walked behind them silently. She had put on a pair of goggles, making her look like an old WW1 pilot. Her wide eyes stared out over the wasteland with shock and horror.

  Making their way to the edge of the burned section, they headed north, keeping one block into the city. Their caution was proved prudent when Frank held up a hand to stop, then ushered them into a thin alleyway and behind a dumpster. Mara had a little trouble maneuvering in the tight space with her large bow.

  After ten seconds, Morgan could hear the loud, boisterous voices approaching as well. They were following he same road Morgan had just been on, but were coming from the north. Morgan opened his mouth to ask if these were the bandits they were looking for.

  One of the men loudly said, “How far to the Academy? I cant wait to get my hands on a fresh one.”

  “Just yer hands,” another man replied, and was answered with a round of raucous laughter from a group.

  Morgan peered around the dumpster as the group of a dozen men walked past the mouth of the alleyway. They were a rough-looking group; some still wore prison orange. The largest of them was wearing a police vest and a riot helmet. They walked along with bouncing steps, laughing and smiling.

  He thought, his hand raising to the hilt over his shoulder unconsciously, “A steady hand on his elbow made him relax.

  After they had passed a good distance, Morgan whispered, “We should go after them; we can ambush them before they get to the Academy.”

  “We can,” Frank agreed, “but we still need to scout the mill, and with that lot out, it should be easier.”

  “I don’t know about easier,” Mara said, “but definitely safer.” Then Morgan remembered this was her first time out of the Academy since integration night, and he felt less hot-headed.

  “Your call,” Frank deferred, “You decide what we do.”

  Morgan weighed the options.

  she began,

  “We’ll continue to the mill, see what they have there, and then we head back to the Academy and help them if they need it with that group,” Morgan declared. Both Frank and Mara nodded their agreement, gathering their weapons as they stood and continued north through the deserted and shattered city.

  Thirty minutes later, they crouched in the woods on a small hill, looking down on the mill nestled against the swiftly flowing river. The smell of cut lumber was heavy in the air. Below them in a roughly circular chain link fence was the mill, most of its area dedicated to huge stacks of cut and drying lumber under tall open-bay barns.

  Morgan pointed to the large mill house set directly off the water, “That is a large enclosed building, that is a good spot for them to be setting up camp,” he turned slightly and indicated the single story squat bunk house close to the fence only 100 yards away, “but I think that would be where they would keep their prisoners.”

  “Could be either one,” Frank growled low, “let’s get close to this shack and I will see if I can hear anything.”

  “Mara, are you alright staying up here and keeping watch?” Morgan asked her. “If you want to stay with us, that is alright, but you are the only one with a bow.”

  “I would rather stay with you,” she said quietly, “besides, if we do find some girls, they might need a woman to talk to.” Her hand tightened on her bow enough to make it creak.

  “Okay, then let’s head down there close enough for Frank to hear something,” Morgan instructed them.

  They moved slowly and as quietly as possible. When they go to the fence, Frank tries to cut it with his pocket knife cutting tool. It didn’t work. Mara stepped forward, handing Morgan the bow. She grabbed the fence lightly between her thumb and forefinger on each hand. Shortly, a light smell of caustic burning filled the air around them. Mara pulled her fingers back; she had melted a small hole in the wire.

  Smiling and looking pleased that her idea had worked, she quickly did it a dozen more times until they could peel back a section of the fence and slide through. As they neared the shack, Frank held up his hand and sat listening intently. Morgan reached up and drew his bastard sword, body beginning to hum in anticipation. Frank nodded and pointed to the shack, “I hear people walking in both buildings, but no talking. Still 50/50 odds”

  “Let’s check this one since we are right here,” Morgan pointed at the shack. “I will go in first, Mara, you hang back and come in after Frank.” She nodded at him, readying an arrow on her bow.

  The door was unlocked. Silently, Morgan pushed it open and walked into the dark, dank-smelling interior. The overpowering scent of stale sweat and the vinegary scent of urine hit him hard in the face. It was all he could do to keep from gagging.

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  He could see, in black and white, a line of six women, tied to the wall with just enough rope to be able to sit on the floor. They had gags tied tightly around their mouths. One spot held a rope tied to the wall, dangling. There was a stained and rumpled bed in the corner. The only other door was opposite the one he had just entered. It was open just an inch with a sliver of flickering light being cast against the wall.

  Rage boiled in Morgan; there was a whimper from the other side of the door, then a man’s grunt. Unthinking, Morgan sprang forward and threw open the door; surprisingly, it swung open soundlessly until it crashed into the wall with a splintering crash. An older man, with a bald spot and a pronounced beer gut, was leaning over a stained bed and a wide-eyed young girl with a gag in her mouth. A flickering candle set on a small bedside table.

  As the man turned, reaching down to grab his pants, Morgan lunged forward and drove the sword deep into the space between his neck and shoulder. The man cried out in pain, but was already growing weak, feebly grasping at the foot of sword protruding from his neck. Morgan stepped back, drawing the sword from his neck with a sick squelching sound. The man gasped, falling to his hands and knees, trying to crawl his way towards a baton and riot shield leaned against the wall near the doorway.

  The door now hung busted off its bottom hinge. Morgan stepped over the man and drove his sword down into his back, through his heart. Then he reached down and slapped the back of the man’s head.

  ::Would you like to activate Absorption?::

  ::Absorption complete. You gained Human Core Timon Carpenski. Contents: Two Common. One Rare.

  You gained 12CT::

  Mara and Frank were still in the first room; they had to wait for their eyes to adjust to the gloom. Mara had a fist held against her mouth and was blowing hard to control the gag reflex from the stench. With the door now open, the flickering light splashed into the main room. Mara walked quickly to the girls along the wall, talking quietly and cutting the ropes that held their arms and gags.

  Some had started sobbing and talking very fast, and two just sat there, staring ahead. Morgan was reminded of the girl whom he and Frank found on the first day.

  “There was two men in the mill,” one of the girls said. She sounded like she was drunk. “They just left five minutes ago.”

  Morgan glanced at Frank and Mara as they worked to help the girls.

  “Go on.” Frank said, “Give ‘em hell, lad. We got the girls.”

  Morgan left the bunkhouse, heading to the mill, when the door to the mill opened. A tall man with dark hair and thick mutton chops was startled by Morgan sprinting across the yard at him. He backpedaled, slipping as he backed into the mill, holding onto the handle. Then the door slammed.

  Looking around, Morgan saw a door on the upstairs wrap-around deck. He sheathed his sword and leapt up, pulling himself up with both hands. Once he had gotten up enough, he lifted a leg onto the deck and rolled. He approached the door, drawing his bastard sword once more.

  The space inside the mill was opened to the water, and the light from the large barn doors showed a large mechanism in the center of the mill bristling with saw blades. There was a web of ropes and pulleys for pulling the logs into the mill.

  Two men were engaged in a tense argument; both of them had wooden clubs, mutton chops also had on a riot helmet. The other man was very skinny and had on a pair of shorts with a black t-shirt. The men were looking at the door to the yard over the top of a workbench.

  Morgan dropped down from the second floor, impaling mutton chops as he fell.

  The skinny guy jumped up and pissed his pants, rolling away from the spray of blood. Mutton Chops was missing the left half of his torso and fell quickly, still trying to hold his left arm against his chest. Morgan circled the skinny man. He was shaking, then he struck out with the club; he had a movement ability. One second, he was 10 feet away; the next, he was right next to Morgan.

  The club slammed into his thigh, causing the worst charley horse he had ever felt. His right leg went numb.

  “Guess you aren’t invincible after all,” he grinned. Then frowned, wincing as his leg buckled a bit. Then got ready to swing again.

  Morgan feinted an upward swing, turning it into a wide horizontal arc. The skinny man reacted and brought the club in to block. Morgan’s sword bit deep into the fat part of the wooden club, sticking. The man and Morgan wrestled with the joined weapons for a second before Morgan let go of the bastard sword, leaving it off balancing the club, and drew his short sword.

  The man attempted his movement ability again, but Morgan was prepared. The man flickered and appeared right beside Morgan with a bastard sword through his stomach. The man was moving so fast, the sword ripped a section of his spine through his back that it wasn’t sharp enough to pierce. The man losing control of his legs went instantly limp. Morgan ended his suffering with a merciful stab.

  He calmly wiped the blood from his two swords on a jacket lying nearby and touched each corpse. For these three men, he felt no remorse, only a sadness that it had to be done.

  ::Would you like to activate Absorption?::

  ::Absorption complete. You gained Human Core Alvin Crawford. Contents: Three Common. One Rare. One Epic. You gained 16CT, 1UC ::

  ::Would you like to activate Absorption?::

  ::Absorption complete. You gained Human Core Jonathan Matthews. Contents: Three Common.

  You gained 18CT, 1UC ::

  His status said 418CT, 15UT. 90% xp until level 10.

  he asked Sophia.

  Sophia responded. “

  She sounded proud of him.

  As he walked out to the yard, he saw the girls they had found beginning to move around normally. Mara came over, looking over Morgan’s shoulder at the two men on the floor of the mill. She had a barely contained sneer on her face. “One of the girls said the fat one in the shack had an ability that drugged them; they weren’t able to think straight or use their abilities. Fucking assholes.”

  “I’m glad we came here instead of going to the Academy,” Morgan suppressed a shudder, looking at the seven girls they had saved.

  “Me too,” Mara said, reaching out and touching his arm for a second, “Thank you. To these girls, it means everything.” She dropped her arm and looked out at the girls walking wobbly around the mill, grabbing equipment and makeshift weapons.

  One of the girls was still unresponsive, despite the drug’s ability wearing off. “We will be ready to head back in just a few minutes. They want to be walking straight first.” Mara finished before heading back to the group of girls, calling them to her.

  Frank walked up. He had acquired a riot shield on his injured arm and a black police vest with DOC stenciled on it, which he was now wearing over his scale mail.

  “You should grab a helmet,” Frank said, pointing to the one on the floor of the mill. Morgan had mistakenly left his faceless bastion in his pack at the Academy. So Morgan nodded and scooped up the helmet, putting it on. It stank of body odor and old smoke, but the visor was clear, and it fit surprisingly well.

  When the girls were ready, they decided to make their way back, going south along the river, then cutting west into the city to avoid the other group coming back. Just in case.