FThe angry sun brightened the sky with its golden flare.

Chris hiked alongside Tayte. Both with their bags slung over their shoulders as they traversed through the grasslands, up to their knees with scalding elephant grass.

They halted once a river came into sight. By the time Chris turned his eyes over to Tayte, her bag was already on the ground and she was removing her second shoe. She grabbed the bottom hem of her sweat-drenched shirt with both hands.

Chris spun around just in time. Her undressing in front of him without a warning shouldn’t be a shock. If anything, it’d be shocking if she said something beforehand. Chris was starting to learn that the antics of an adrenaline junkie that acts solely on impulse can get predictable. Just expect the worst and most socially unacceptable thing a sane human would do at all times and you’re good. He retreated behind a tree—an umbrella thorn acacia—its curly bush protecting him from the direct rays of the Ugandan sun. He did his best to get comfortable under the tree as the stink of his sweat-soaked pajamas made him wince.

A splash arose from behind. Chris wondered if they were attacked by a Trial Fighter, whether Tayte would even bother to try to put her clothes back on if she had the chance. She’d probably be happy to fight naked for the thrill of the bigger chance of fatal injury. His face went blank for a moment, and then he used all the mental power he had to keep himself from picturing her naked.

Chris waited for Tayte to finish bathing and get dressed, confirming via shouting back and forth with her. After she affirmed she was all done, he waited several more seconds and stepped away from the tree with his hands over his eyes.

“You can open your eyes,” Tayte said.

Chris sensed a pinch of playful malice in her monotone voice; he didn’t understand how, but convinced himself that he was slowly becoming an expert in her emotionless tongue. Cautiously, he made a slit between his fingers. Tayte was fully clothed — covering her wiry frame with a colorful, loose chiffon top and light blue shorts. Upon confirmation, he dropped his hands and said, “Alright, let’s go.”

“You’re not going to bathe?” She looked up at him, her wet gray hair shining under the sun. “You smell terrible.”

“I’ll deal with it.”

“Are you really going to avoid bathing because you don’t want to be naked around me?”

Chris took off. “We’re going!”

###

A short, but clammy car ride took them to a gas station in the middle of nowhere. Through the windshield they spotted Ryder, and a restored Vanessa nearby a pump. Chris parked the SUV on the side of the road, climbed out with Tayte who kept her hair in a ponytail, and they walked up to the two, both Ryder and Vanessa glimmered in the sweltering heat.

Ryder wore a loud outfit as usual—multicolored striped shirt and shorts—he approached the pair with open arms. “Hello, children. Mommy and Daddy are here!” He took Chris in for a hug first. “Christopher, come here,” he said before kissing him on the head and then giving him a grimace. “You smell terrible.”

“Hormones,” Chris responded.

“You’re not getting in Vanessa smelling like that.” Ryder’s frown faded immediately as he turned to Tayte. “Oh, Tatyana-darling.” He kissed her on the head and hugged her tight, brushing her messy ponytail. “So tiny and fluffy, I love it. I’m keeping you after this is over.”

As Ryder suffocated Tayte with love, Chris’s eyes wandered over to Vanessa. He walked around, inspecting the armored van. The matte black paint job and custom fortifications sparkled with revitalized energy. “Vanessa looks good,” Chris said.

Without letting go of Tayte, Ryder turned to Chris. “I got her some new toys. Believe it or not, she can go even faster now.”

Of course, Ryder would say “faster” without needing to add that he enhanced safety measures. He probably didn’t even bother to. Chris heaved a sigh and then looked at Tayte. No smile. She must’ve zoned out.

“What’s our next destination?” Tayte said, her voice muffled.

“We’re heading to the Tanda Pits,” Chris said. “The holes that Walumbe made in the ground when he was hiding from his brother. The first Checkpoint is in one of those pits.”

“You can tell from looking at that map your Relic makes?”

“Do you have any idea how long I have been preparing for this?”

“Right. Wait, don’t those lead to the underworld?”

Ryder let go of Tayte. “Oh, so you’ve told her about the legend. You two have been alone together for a while.” He looked at each of them one at a time, his smile grew wider. “Lots of time to bond.”

“I’ve heard that people that go through a near-death experience grow closer to each other naturally,” Tayte said.

“That’s right, Tatyana-darling.”

Chris shot a look at Ryder. “Can you not?”

Ryder dialed it back and focused on Chris with a stern look. “I’m sorry about Melissa.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Chris said with a bit of a caustic tone, hoping to convince Ryder and himself. He felt the need to say it once more. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. We gave her plenty of opportunities to get out alive, and she refused. Besides, it’s not like the world is a worse place now with her out of the picture.”

“De mortuis nihil nisi bonum,” Tayte quoted as she moved up to Chris.

“Huh? Are you having a stroke or something?”

“The guy who is obsessed with history can’t recognize Latin?”

Chris looked away, making a chagrined face.

Tayte leaned onto the van. “Of the dead say nothing but good. It’s a mortuary aphorism. It was one of the first things that my father taught me—”

“Oh, great, another wonderful life lesson from Nicholas Enberg. The guy who told you not to be afraid of the monsters under your bed because they are already around you. I’d love to hear more from that guy.” Chris’s gut panged with shame as soon as he finished and braced himself for a vexed remark.

Unnerved, Tayte continued, “It was also said a lot at Mortuary School.”

Surprised by her measured tone, Chris thought back to what Melissa said about her being like a superhero. What would it take to bring down that sturdy stone wall?

“So, what? Is it like superstition? Don’t speak ill of that or they’ll curse us?” Chris said. “I’m already cursed. I told you.”

Ryder brought his palm to his face and groaned. “Oh, God.” He looked over at Tayte. “Did he tell you about the ice cream thing?”

“You’ve seen it happen yourself, Ryder!” Chris shouted.

“It happens to everybody!”

“I was standing still, Ryder!” Chris ranted as he slammed the back of his hand into his palm. “There was no wind, and I had only one scoop. The ball fit perfectly into the circumference of the cone, but one lick, and it was all over. There is no better empirical evidence than that!”

“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead because they can’t defend themselves,” Tayte said, abruptly cutting through their back and forth.

Chris eyed her blankly.

“The dead can’t justify themselves nor can they hurt you anymore, so the best thing to do would be to talk about the good times you’ve had with them.”

Chris pulled back and pondered on why someone like Tayte would care about socially acceptable etiquette like that. His brows raised, and he asked her, “But what do you think about speaking ill of the dead?”

“I…” Tayte started and fumbled with her hands.

Chris pointed back at her. “You don’t believe in that crap, Tayte.”

“Okay, but I’ve been told that I should and to tell others they should.”

“I’ve heard her justification, and it’s just not good enough.” Chris sighed. “Can we get going?” Despite his efforts, the thought remained in his head.

“What’s the rush? I thought the Checkpoint would only light up at nighttime,” Tayte said.

“There’s no disadvantage to going now,” Chris responded, “and waiting till nighttime after we find the Checkpoint. Unfortunately, the dot on the map doesn’t show the exact location, just the general area where it can be found.”

“Always thinking a hundred steps ahead,” Ryder said. “Listen, great idea and all, but there are way too many tourists walking around at this time.”

“I didn’t think that people would be interested in the god of death’s land like that,” Tayte said.

Ryder crossed his arms and smiled smugly. “I’ve heard that some celebrities show up there to ask for some otherworldly intervention. Like making a deal with the devil. Aside from Walumbe, there are shrines to other deities propped around the area.”

Chris’s lips narrowed as he eyed Vanessa’s tire. Ryder’s argument was valid. The place would be flooded with tourists and they couldn’t exactly focus on whatever puzzle awaited them at the site that most likely involves jumping into one of the dark pits. Chris quivered at the thought. Even if they were behind, whoever is in the lead is irrelevant because the last Tombstone Checkpoint can only be lit when there is a single god’s representative, or representatives standing.

“We’re having a short road trip—”

“No! We’re lying low until nighttime. Tayte and I just helped start an urban legend that’s probably going to be told for generations. We find a hotel. A shittier one.”

Tayte and Ryder exchanged looks.

“Has he always been this much of a buzzkill?” Tayte asked.

“The man doesn’t even let himself buy ice cream cones, what do you think?” Ryder replied.

Chris balled his fists, containing the will to rant about the infallible argument about why he can’t for the hundredth time. “Can we get going?” he said, clenching his teeth.

Ryder pointed to the small building behind them. “You’re not hopping into Vanessa smelling like that, though. Gas station shower. Now.”

###

As instructed, the trio enjoyed their stay at a shittier hotel with a name none of them could pronounce. No matter how many times the friendly, thick-accented woman repeated it for them. Once the skies grayed just a bit, the gang took it as a cue to gear up (Ryder refused to get rid of his amazing outfit), and hit the road.

Vanessa’s interior had seats added in the back, attached to either side of the inner walls like in a cargo hold (for all they knew, Ryder could’ve got the parts from one).

Tayte happily sat in the back alongside their bags, leaving the boys in the front.

The ride to the destination was fast and hectic. Vanessa barreled along the Kampala-Mityana road, committing several traffic violations as Ryder piloted her to slalom between honking cars and screaming drivers while going well past the lawful limit. An abrupt swerve to the right had Vanessa tackling off-road with no problem. Dirt, grass, and weeds were chucked up from the ground and blasted against the windows of the van. Ryder continued through the forested shortcut and then braked without warning, thrusting all passengers forward and back.

Chris clicked off the seatbelt and massaged the marks it left on his chest. The sight of a sign distracted him from yelling at Ryder—TANDA ARCHEOLOGICAL ARCHIVES—it said, with a smaller box of text under it.

“This is as far as I go, children,” Ryder said. “Don’t have too much fun now, okay?”

Chris and Tayte let themselves out of the massive van. Tayte handed Chris his bag and flashlight and then attached hers onto her shoulder strap.

As Chris fumbled around with his, he said, “Let me talk to the shrine people, okay?” Eager to whip out the dialect skills he spent most of the day reviewing.

They waved Ryder goodbye and got going. The dual beams of light guided their path. As they plunged deeper into the dark area, the forest became thicker and the sounds of the night grew from the expected crunch of the undergrowth beneath their boots and the choir of crickets playing to the caws of a murder of crows and other eerie noises Chris couldn’t identify.

He allowed himself to shiver once under his clothing as he thought about the dread of the unknown. He put his hand over his gun, fixed in its holster hidden under his tactical jacket, calming himself, and then looked over at Tayte.

She wore a sweater over the top she had in the morning and black jeans. The gray-haired menace let out a yawn. Hard to believe that the sleepy creature and the maniac who unleashed a hurricane in a cramped wedding shop were the same person.

They reached a small, simple white gate where the trees that surrounded them were crooked. Twisted from their trunks to their branches.

An elder clad in a white kanzu—a long cotton robe—sat on a rock at the gate under a lantern that hung off a branch.

Chris nudged Tayte with his elbow. “Stay back. I got this.” He walked up to the frail, wrinkle-faced man and flashed a radiant smile. With confidence he displayed his Luganda, speaking rapidly in the local tongue.

The elder gave him a baffled look and then looked over at Tayte. “What did he say?” he asked in English with an accent.

Tayte shrugged. “I don’t know.”

The elder shook his head and asked. “You’re also Tombstone Trial participants, aren’t you?”

With his confidence shattered, Chris ditched the dialect and switched back to English. “How do you know about—?”

The elder raised a hand. “My family and I have seen our fair share of Fighters. Speaking of which, there’re a couple of Fighters there and brawling as we speak.” The elder pushed open the creaking gate. “You’re free to enter.”

“Thanks,” Chris said and stormed into the area with Tayte.

The two strode through the place. Chris couldn’t allow the elder to describe the individuals. If he heard those physical descriptions then there’s no way he’d succeed in convincing his body to go there. He prayed internally with every fiber of his being that he wasn’t one of them.

A tingle in his leg prompted him to stop and pull his leg back. He looked down and there was a pit before him.

Tayte hunched over and peered down at the dark cavity.

Chris grabbed onto her. “Don’t jump in.”

Tayte shrugged off his grip and looked back blankly. “Don’t we need to reach the underground, though?”

Chris spread his arms to the side, showing the plethora of holes that were scattered across the ground. “There are over 200 pits. And we don’t know if they all lead to the checkpoint. It’s possible that only one of them does and the rest are death traps.”

“No, stop!” A shaky voice erupted from somewhere in the area, alerting the two.

Chris took out his gun and scanned their surroundings. “What the heck was—?”

“Stop!” The voice broke out once again, more intensely, followed by continuous screaming.

Tayte was on the move.

Chris cursed and went after her. “Hey, wait!” He kept up with Tayte’s pacing, controlled and quick. Chris was more impressed with himself on how many pits he avoided falling into in a row. While focusing on his feet, he prayed with all his heart that he wasn’t there.

And there he was.

Praying was such a lousy and useless thing, Chris thought to him.

Within the clearing with fewer holes dotted on the land. Adisa Swain stood garbed in his regular easy-going attire—a tropical flamingo shirt, sweatpants, and flip-flops. He had black, lush curly hair and smooth brown skin. With one arm encased in a cast and hanging from a sling.

He used his good arm to pin a dark-skinned woman with a large, impressive afro against a tree; the tip of a bizarre, archaic sword pressed just between her collarbones.

A few feet in front of them was a screaming young man striking a strong resemblance to the woman, and, like her, he was pinned. An Asian woman with blue streaks lining down her long, black hair sat on his back while playing on a gaming handheld—a GameGuy.

Chris recognized all the faces of the now-disbanded Post Mortem, his former partners. Mayumi Kanno, an avid grunge fashion supporter, was the one planted on the back of Andre Moussa.

Andre had a kunai pierced through the back of each of his hands, nailing them to the ground. Mayumi kept one foot on top of a kunai as she mashed buttons on her handheld. She wore black overalls over her striped shirt, and a piece of leather around her neck.

Andre’s twin, Walidah, wore a seashell necklace, and was the poor soul being held hostage and gazed upon by Adisa.

Chris identified the weird weapon he held as the Ngulu. The top part of the iron blade curved like the Egyptian khopesh and then going down it undulated twice in the opposite direction. It had two discs on the handle.

“Let her go, Adisa!” Andre shouted.

Adisa, without taking his eyes off Walidah, said, “Quiet. I’m speaking with Walidah right now.” His voice remained calm.

Walidah gulped.

“So, what’s it going to be?” Adisa asked with a wolfish grin playing on his lips. “Are you willing to die for this?”

“I’m not going to forfeit my Relic,” Walidah croaked.

“Hm. So, you’re happy with this being how you die?”

Walidah looked to her right where there was nothing and then took a glance at Andre’s face, twisted with agony. “At least this way I can say goodbye.”

“Walidah!” Andre clawed his fingertips deep into the dirt. “Just… forfeit it…”

Mayumi stomped onto the back of Andre’s head. “Hey, you made me lose a life!”

Andre let out muffled cries as his face was crushed into the ground.

Adisa’s grin lost vitality as if he grew bored with the situation. “I hope you’re happy with the way you die,” he said lazily.

Walidah closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

As Chris watched the horror unfold, he glanced over to his side and nobody was there. He couldn’t find the will to let out a sigh. At this point, he is going to run out of ways to react to these shenanigans. He stayed behind and observed.

“Kamaitachi!” The lunatic called gleefully as she ran. After a quick spin, she had the Relic swinging downwards at Adisa. He pulled away from Walidah and swung his arm up.

The blades met and locked.

Chris fixated on the two pushing their weapons against each other and a despairing feeling panged in his gut. He knew he failed to some degree by letting these two meet properly. He couldn’t shake off the thought. The thought that...

These two fighting each other for the first time marks the beginning of the end.