The walk to Marcus’s house was uneventful; there were no respawns. The yard around Marcus’ house was littered with zombie corpses, and more than a dozen goblin corpses with arrows or large holes in them.

  As they approached, Frank yelled, “Gunny, you still kicking?”

  There was a gruff laugh, and the wiry, thin black man responded, “Doc, never thought your old hide would make it back out here. Come on in, just stay on the walkway. I put some goodies in the yard.” Frank mimed an explosion with his hands and mouthed the word “boom” to them.

  The old men embraced in a quick hug, then Frank made the introductions, and Morgan and Marcus shook hands. The old man’s hands were rough and calloused, and his grip was firm. There was a pleasant scent of blueberries in the air. Marcus limped his way a little awkwardly inside and returned, pushing out his wife, who was in a wheelchair, holding a still steaming blueberry pie on her lap.

  “Everyone, this is my wife, Jiwoo.” She smiled sweetly at them. She was old and, like Marcus, whipcord thin. Her Korean features made her look extremely grandmotherly. The pie didn’t help. She bowed slightly to them.

  “Please have some pie,” she waved her hand, a stack of plates and silverware floated out of the kitchen and split. One set went to each person. Then a cutter followed and landed lightly in her hand. As she cut each piece and lifted it out of the pie tin, the pieces kept moving on their own off the cutter and onto a plate.

  “Telekinesis,” Mara said, “and so precise.”

  “She loves showing that off,” Marcus said with a good-natured laugh.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “It is much faster than waiting for a husband to grab things,” She responded, swiping a hand at him.

  “It’s good to see you, Gunny. I feared the worst,” Frank said, “We didn’t make it here the first day,” he held up his hand, “not that we didn’t try.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Morgan told us when he was here last night.” Marcus said, “I was more worried you would try that crazy stunt than I was for me and Jiwoo.” He turned to Morgan, “You are still in one piece after running around alone all night.” He gave him a once-over, “Must be tougher than you look.”

  Morgan smiled, “Thank you, S….Gunny. I get by. Have gotten lucky a lot, but I find it works better to hit them before they hit me.”

  “Yeah,” Marcus patted the crossbow on the table and pointed at the three more next to him. “I try to do that as well. Jiwoo can reload them as fast as I can shoot ‘em.” He finished with a pat on his wife’s hand. ‘But, would rather be lucky than good.” He said with a wink.

  “Any chance you wanna head to the Academy? We got a lot of people there, it will be safer than here on your own.” Frank asked.

  “We thought about it and decided last night, if you came today, we would go with you,” Jiwoo said.

  “Well, we can walk with you back to the Academy, but then we have to head out and do some scouting.” Frank offered. Then explained the girls at the mill and what they were going to do.

  Marcus offered to go along. But Frank refused. Marcus had lost both legs in Afghanistan.

  “Gunny! You would just slow us down. You’re an old dog.” Frank retorted.

  “My ass, I’m only a year older than you, and even with two peg legs, I’ll still march you into the ground,” Marcus replied. They bantered back and forth about who was older and slower. Jiwoo sat there smiling wistfully.

  The walk back to the Academy was twice as long, and more than once, they had to clear some debris to make room or lift the wheelchair. But they made it back to the Academy and ensured Marcus and Jiwoo were introduced to Katherine. Frank told her that Marcus and Jiwoo knew everything about the traitorous plot and would be good eyes and ears around the building.

  “Thank you, Frank,” Katherine said as they were leaving once more, “They will be protected, and useful here. Good luck at the mill.”