LOGAN

Just kill me already, Logan thought, scratching the back of his neck and wiping the sweat off his brows. He could never get used to summer like this, one that seemed determined to bake your insides in an oven out in the open. Oregon weather, or at least one in the valley, was more forgiving.

He refused to be beaten by the weather 109 days into the apocalypse. Three-and-a-half months of running, fighting, screaming, and stabbing...he had experienced much worse. But I will do anything for it to rain just about now.

On the bright side, he survived 109 days into this shit show.

Logan passed the binoculars back to Alfie. "The RV is still there," he said. Just like yesterday and the day before that. Honestly, he had grown bored with this routine, waiting up on the hill for an hour or two, looking down at a large stretch of highway filled with abandoned vehicles and the infected. He'd rather have some of those muffins that Vivian had made for Bren than stay out here under the summer heat. Maybe he could have spent more time with Bren, too. But alas, they had planned this scavenging run for a few days now.

"Do you think the horde's moving up north? Drawn to the refugee camps, maybe? There's less of them out on the highway than two days ago," Alfie said.

"Maybe our luck is finally turning. The soldiers up there might give them a good shelling once they come knocking."

"You think the camps are still standing? The radio's been repeating the same message for the past five days now. They might have retreated to Pittsburgh, drawn the new borders for the red zone after Harrisburg fell."

Logan shrugged. "Let's hope not. I mean, it sucks for whoever's up there, but it gives us a clear path to the RV." But he doubted it. The camps set up by the military to rescue survivors from Harrisburg served as a perfect distraction on many occasions. There was still a hundred milling around the highway, perhaps more. Not the odds he was looking for, and he didn't feel like having a death wish today. The guns can wait.

"Are you sure your guns and supplies are still in there?" Kenny asked, chewing on peppermint gum. Downwind, Logan could smell it.

"Should be. The RV looks untouched from the outside since we found it. No signs of a break-in."

"Well, sorry to say, boys, but this will be a suicide mission if you're thinking about going down there."

Alfie sighed. "Kind of why we're here. We're hoping to find the rest of our group. We thought they might be looking for the RV as well, and when we do find them, we'll have the manpower to get it back."

Kenny smiled. "You are an optimistic dude."

"I try to," said Alfie.

"And I wonder why you came along with us, Kenny?" Logan asked. It was the first time the man had joined them on a scavenging hunt. It seemed he would rather stay back on the farm and look out for his parents and his niece and nephews than step into harm's way, but the air had changed around him. Logan wondered what Bren had told him last night that made him come with them.

"For my good ol' charm? I thought you might want the company," Kenny said. "And don't underestimate my height, lover boy. I grew up around these parts, and I know how to shoot a rifle better than your momma could."

"Sorry. I just gotta ask."

"Don't sweat it. I'm new to you, and you're new to me. We have to learn to trust each other. Isn't that the currency nowadays?"

"More than most."

"Well, then. If you get your balls caught by any of those freaks over yonder, I promise I won't miss a shot to get you out."

Logan chuckled. "Good to know, Ken."

"Please. Kenny's fine." He winked.

Alfie suddenly shifted where he's crouched. "Wait. I see something. Son of a bitch!"

"What? What is it?"

Alfie handed it to him with a big smile on his face. "Ha! You won't believe who it is!"

Logan looked through the binoculars and aimed it back at the RV, and right away, he spotted some movement a hundred feet west of the vehicle. Stepping between the pile-up, a familiar figure emerged. Jun darted quietly under the vectors' noses, like a tiger behind the bushes, weaving through each vehicle before moving closer and closer toward the RV.

Logan gasped. "It's motherfucking Jun! He's alive!"

"What on earth is he doing? He's gonna get himself killed down there," Alfie said.

"I don't know. Should we help?"

Kenny studied the highway for a moment and then shook his head. "No. Too dangerous."

Logan continued to watch him quietly, rooted to where he's crouched up on the hill. Jun never once alerted the vectors to his presence, aware of their movements as if he had eyes at the back of his skull, every gust of wind speaking to him. Every time a group got within thirty feet, Jun quickly dropped down to his belly, onto the asphalt, and log-rolled underneath a car, then crawling out after the vectors ambled away his hiding place and moved on.

A good tactic. Logan couldn't wait to tell Bren that Jun was alive.

A large crowd had gathered too close to the RV, but to Logan's surprise, Jun pulled out a slingshot clasped on his belt, took out a small pebble from his pocket, and aimed for the window at the back of a bus sixty feet away. The window shattered upon impact, and the sound was loud enough to attract a good portion of the vectors toward that area. Jun quickly stalked behind those who stayed behind, pulled out his knife, and crept behind a male vector in a tweed suit before slicing his throat. He gently laid the body onto the ground, not making a noise. Jun did the same to two more vectors before reaching the RV and crawled underneath the vehicle. He came out with his backpack looking a little fatter than last he came in five minutes ago.

Cheeky fucker. "We should go and follow him," Logan said.

"I know the area where he's heading," Kenny said, nodding. He didn't wait for the others to answer.

Logan and Alfie followed Kenny down the hill, past a trail on the underpass skirting along the highway. It was a miracle the other vectors hadn't noticed them yet. Some were too distracted by the occasional gunshots on the east and ran toward that direction. Others were "smart" enough not to be drawn by random gunfires, preferring to stay within their hunting grounds like gargoyles. Sneaking around them became harder over the past few days, but they were still vectors, and any noise was still fair game to them. A couple of raccoons just happened to fight over some scraps inside one of the vans with shattered windows, bringing the full attention of the other vectors to them. Logan, Alfie, and Kenny managed to slip across the other side of the highway without a fuss.

Logan didn't want to think about what happened to those poor raccoons now surrounded by at least a dozen vectors.

Kenny was surprisingly a good tracker. When Logan thought they had lost Jun's tracks, Kenny managed to find him. They even caught a glimpse of the man before he darted off to an alley, leading them deep into the suburbs of a town called Lower Allen, which fortunately had fewer vectors than Logan anticipated. Jun's tracks ended up on a long gravel road toward an asphalt mixing plant; the sign hanging over the chain-linked fence said NEW HORIZONS STONE & LIME CO.

It was the farthest area Logan and Alfie had scouted, way too close to the urban population and the Capital Beltway, one of the roads that would eventually lead off to I-76 and I-81 for Pittsburgh. Logan wondered if they were also too close to the refugee camps set up inside the towns of Lemoyne, Enola, and Good Hope. Last he heard on the radio, Lemoyne wasn't doing too good holding back both the refugees and the infected.

"This must be where he's been all this time," Alfie said. He pointed out to the half a dozen dead vectors around the gates. Some were killed recently. He approached the padlocks, and with no keys around, he had no way of opening them. Climbing was not an option. Barbed wires hugged the length of the chain-linked fence.

Kenny approached the gates and studied the building ahead. "A buddy of mine works here. The mixing plant had been closed down due to a COVID outbreak a week before this outbreak"—he paused, holding back a chuckle—"this second outbreak of a new disease, I mean, started. Imagine that? Two new diseases popping up in less than two years? What a time to be alive, am I right? Anyway, this will be a good spot to hunker down. Nothing in there but equipment and supplies."

Alfie nodded. "I read online that both diseases were manufactured inside some super high-tech genetics lab—"

Logan cut him off. "No time for conspiracies on Reddit, Alfie. We're here to find Jun."

"Right. Sorry."

"If you three continue talking too loud for the birds to hear, my arrow would have sung," a voice with a strong, clipped accent spoke on top of the guardhouse.

Logan looked up and found Jun standing there, bow in hand, an arrow knocked at the ready. He hadn't pulled the string back, but seeing Jun in action in the past, the bowman could do it in a second without Logan finding somewhere to hide. He'd be dead where he's standing.

"First time I've heard you speak a sentence," Logan said.

"I doubt that's true." Jun lowered his bow and frowned. "Is he dead?"

It took Logan a moment to realize who he meant. "No. Bren's alive. Recovering."

Jun nodded. "The others?"

"Edgar and Nico are back with Bren, but the others are still missing," Alfie chimed in.

Jun grabbed his backpack from the floor and climbed down the ladder. He shot Kenny a wary glance when he approached, but the other man extended his hand and introduced himself before Logan could. Jun accepted his hand.

"New friend," Jun said matter-of-factly.

"A few. His family helped us when the bridge collapsed."

"Found them on the riverbank bleeding and screaming, mind you," Kenny said. "Details are important, lover boy."

Logan shifted. "Well...yeah. It's implied."

"Follow me." Jun pulled out a set of keys and opened the padlocked gate.

Logan studied Jun as he trailed behind the gravel road. So far, there were no signs of malnutrition or that the boy was hungry after surviving on his own for the past two weeks. He seemed to keep his appearance and his clothes clean and pristine.

Jun spoke up. "Time we cross the bridge and reach the highway, the roads were infested with the sick. Murray tried to abandon Cora and got bitten. Have to shoot him. No choice."

"We figured," Logan said.

"You see my arrows, yes? I left it there for everyone to see. For everyone to find me." He shot them a sheepish grin. "Genius, yes?"

"It took a while, but yes. We found you."

"I meant to leave it for Bren or Peter to find. They seem smarter."

Logan tried not to let it bother him. He took a deep breath and picked up his pace, matching Jun. Logan noticed a few more dead vectors littered around the road, some with broken arrows sticking out of their throats while others had multiple stab wounds, and many more had their limbs hacked and their heads decapitated. He had seen a couple of vectors with their face caved in by some big hammer.

Jun got busy cleaning up the place.

Eventually, they arrived at half a dozen or so medium-sized mobile office trailers, where Jun took out another set of keys and opened the trailer on the farthest end of the lot.

Inside was a single mattress on top of a cot. Logan deduced Jun had been living in for the past couple of weeks. Some were empty canned goods, a sleeping bag, and a few comics splayed on the coffee table. Though, Logan doubted Jun collected the various nude and topless women glued on the wall by the next room, some of them looking like they got snatched from the old 90's porn mags. Alfie shifted uncomfortably when he passed that side of the room, his eyes lingering a little too long on the pictures.

Jun cleared his throat. "Sorry about the mess. I get what I can from the RV. Little food. Little water. Spend time here to think, and read, and wait."

Kenny whistled. "Nice place you got."

"Not one I like to call home," Jun said glumly.

Jun threw his backpack on the couch and went straight to a narrow hallway connected to a garage, gesturing for the others to follow. Inside was a single pickup truck and a white RV van, the truck bed covered by a blue waterproof tarp. Jun pulled the tarp off, and underneath were seven duffel bags along with several backpacks, bedrolls, pillows, blankets, cardboard boxes, and many more. Guns and ammo spilled out onto the truck bed when Jun opened one of them. The other boxes had canned goods, others had rolls of clean bandages, antibiotics, and vitamin supplements, and the rest were just general supplies of parts, bolts, and other ends. Jun transported all these supplies from within the RV and onto this truck for the past two weeks. Logan noticed one of the travel bags was his, opened it up to find his extra clean shirt and pants waiting inside, along with the other loot he had gathered over the past three months.

Jun grinned. "Now, I can't leave it out there for strangers to steal, right?"

Logan returned Jun's smile. "No. No, you can't."

Alfie opened his duffel bag where his extra clothes and loot were all there. He pulled out some type of cologne, pulled out the cap, and gave it a whiff. "Should we bring it back with us to the farm?"

Logan nodded. "Seems like the safest option."

"A farm?" Jun asked.

"It's where we're staying for the moment. It's Kenny's family's farm."

"And it's safe?"

"Relatively speaking," Kenny interrupted. "We've dealt with the infected maybe twice in the past week alone?"

And I doubt that would last. "You can come with us, Jun. Bren will be happy to see you."

"And he'd be extra happy seeing all our stuff are here!" Alfie said giddily. He quickly ruffled through the front pockets of the duffel bag and pulled something out. "Oh, man! I forgot I had Twizzlers hidden in here."

There was a faint rustle inside the van, a man groaning in frustration. Logan almost grabbed his weapon before Jun caught him and shook his head. "Um...I want you all to meet someone.

Jun walked over toward the white RV van covered with graffiti, a large antenna on the roof, and knocked on the passenger-side door. Written on the side were: LIVE 24/7, 99.5 SKHM ROCK.

Jun paused. "He's a bit...well...you'll see. You'll see." He gestured repeated circles of his finger around his right temple, suggesting whoever was inside the van had some screws loose. Logan couldn't help but feel a little nervous.

It took a few more knocks before the van slid open. Behind the door sat a man in his early thirties with buzzed cut hair, a dark brown full beard with bits of chips stuck around his mouth, and piercing blue eyes.

That wasn't even the thing that popped out the moment the door opened. The stranger looked as if he got plucked from the 14th century and landed here: a gleaming metallic breastplate strapped on his chest, pauldrons on both his shoulders, arm bracers of gold and steel, a white shirt under his green tunic, a half cloak, and two shiny longswords just leaning against the cushions, coupled with a few daggers, axes, warhammers, maces, and an expensive-looking crossbow. His pants and leather boots were more modern; two peeking tags read the brand was Northface and Eddie Bauer, respectively. He had his hand on one of the leather straps of his cauldron, trying to secure it on him before he flashed a wide grin and slowly, and clumsily, stepped out of the van. He almost spilled out, but Jun managed to catch him.

Jun shook his head, blood rushing up his cheeks. "Too slow," he muttered, flinching from every clunk of metal as the man struggled to get out of the van.

The armored man ignored him. "I see you have bought new people into our humble abode, Jun," he said. Logan caught a distinct Eastern European accent behind his words. "Good sirs, a pleasure to meet you all. It's not very often I see this bowman have any friends since we last ran into each other. When was it now? A fortnight ago?"

"No one uses the word fortnight anymore." Jun merely shook his head. "Everyone, this is Mishka. Mishka, this is Logan, Alfie, and...sorry I forgot your name."

"Kenny."

"Yes. Kenny."

"Why are you dressed like that?" Alfie blurted out.

"Can't you see? I'm a knight, good sir," Mishka said proudly.

"Mishka..." Jun started.

Mishka raised his hand and chuckled, quickly dropping his formalities. "Alright. Alright. I'm just kidding. In reality, I am not a knight. I am an actor. And when you pay twenty thousand dollars for this armor and that sword, and many other accessories back there. I'll find any fucking excuse to wear them every fucking day, and yes, even in the goddamned apocalypse! How about that?" He maintained his friendly smile, but Logan feared his face was going to fall if he kept at it. "After all, it does put a smile on my face when people see me in this get-up. Wait till you see me use Dawnweaver over there."

"You named your sword?" Kenny asked, amused, leaning against the hood of the pickup truck.

"Of course! Of course! It's tradition! Every great sword requires a name. Her name is Dawnweaver."

This man is batshit crazy. "Well, it's nice to meet you, uh, Mishka. I want to thank you for keeping Jun safe over the past few days," Logan said.

"Oh, not quite! We protect each other, you know. He keeps me safe, and I keep him safe. That sword is not just for show. See those hacked limbs outside? That's my doing." Mishka chuckled and pointed at himself. "Me!"

"Mishka is a self-described devout cosplayer," Jun said uncomfortably. "I told him that cosplaying is not religion."

"It almost is when you think about it. And I'm also a DJ. Don't forget that."

It clicked in Logan's head. The numbers plastered on the van, and a distant memory of the countless drive since Albany and Colby. He looked at the man. "You're fucking DJ Swayze?"

Mishka's grin widened. "Ah! I didn't know you brought a fan, Jun! How kind of you to give them backstage passes! What a good friend you are!"

"You're DJ Swayze?" Logan repeated the question. The voice, the tone, the diction...It is him!

He looked over to the bunch of radio and broadcasting equipment in the van, and then to the large antenna on the roof. "Last time I checked, I am! What you see before you is my cosplaying persona, Sir Alaric of Kent, and back there is my day job, my other persona, DJ Swayze of the Airwaves. Rock and March On. Catchphrase."

No fucking kidding. "Bren's gonna freak out when he meets you."

"Oh? Another fan? Well, it's good to meet my listeners once in a while, but when I'm working..." he put his finger over his lips and pointed at the broadcasting equipment. "Fortunately for you, I just looped one hour of mid-80s rock, so I have time to chat and sign autographs. Who's starting?"

"We're leaving, Mishka," Jun said.

Mishka's smile dropped instantly, his lips quivering. "Leaving? Me? But Jun—!"

"No, no! To a safe place. Both of us."

"Bah! Why didn't you start with that? You almost scared me half to death! Talk about leaving me," the armored man grumbled.

"Sorry."