“You sure you’re good, Clay?”

  Clay rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms out. “I’ve been in that damn bed for a week. I feel fine.” He shook his head. “If I gotta eat another one of those recycled shit balls, I—”

  “Okay,” Colt said. “Okay.”

  He laid the Conduit Dagger on the table.

  Then he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small wooden box. He set it down and opened the lid.

  “Eleven,” Colt said. “That’s it. Got six loaded up already.”

  He looked into the bottom of the satchel. In the corner sat a single Shinki, violet light pulsing faint through the leather. He’d been carrying that thing around forever. He pulled it out and set it on the table next to the bullets.

  Clay walked over and put the Bowie Knife down beside it.

  “You saw how many there were, right?” Clay said. “Thousands, Kev said.”

  He pointed at the table. “Less than twenty bullets. A couple of knives.”

  Clay’s jaw tightened. “C’mon, Colt. This is dumb. Let’s find a different Earth. One where we can get some weapons.”

  Colt shook his head. “They’re slow. We won’t even need these bullets.”

  He looked at Kevin. “Right, Kev?”

  Kevin’s head turned toward them. “Corrupted entities exhibit severely diminished cognitive function. Motor response is delayed by approximately forty percent compared to living humans. Reaction time to external stimuli is minimal. Threat assessment capability is nonexistent.”

  Colt looked at Clay. “See? Slow and stupid.”

  “Yeah,” Clay said. “Just like this plan. Just like your plan of jumpin’ outta that damn tree. Almost gettin’ killed by them big-ass birds.”

  Colt grinned. “It worked though, right?”

  Clay huffed.

  “We don’t have time to go from Earth to Earth tryin’ to find weapons. I need this Puha now.”

  He thought about the one-eyed ninja. Standing on that cliff. Watching them. That bastard was still out there. Colt had never wanted to kill someone before. Not Earl, not Jeff, not even the ninjas who’d come at him. But that one-eyed ninja? His fingers curled tight. He wanted that one dead.

  “We get the Puha,” Colt said. “We get stronger.”

  Clay stared at him a second, then looked away.

  “We don’t get stronger, Colt,” Clay said. His voice came out flat. “You do.”

  Colt frowned. “What?”

  “You.” Clay pointed at him. “You got that thing in your head. You got the dead eye. You’re the one gettin’ upgrades.” His jaw worked.

  Clay looked down at his hands. Turned them over. “I’m just… I’m just normal. I don’t have what you have.”

  Colt’s chest tightened. He stepped closer.

  “You’re my big brother,” Colt said. “You’re stronger than me. Always have been.”

  “That ain’t true anymore,” Clay said.

  “It is,” Colt said. “You’ve been keepin’ me alive since I was a kid. You taught me to shoot. You taught me to track. Hell, you’re the one who kept your head when everything went to shit back home.”

  Clay’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

  “And I can’t do this without you,” Colt said. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’ half the time. You keep me from doin’ somethin’ stupid.”

  Clay let out a short breath through his nose. “You do plenty of stupid shit anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Colt said. “But less when you’re there.”

  Clay looked at him. His shoulders were still tight, but his fists loosened a little.

  “We can do this,” Colt said. “Together.”

  Clay stared at him a long moment, then shook his head slow. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

  “Maybe,” Colt said. “But not today.”

  Clay’s mouth twitched. Not a smile, but close.

  Colt walked to the armory and grabbed his rope off the shelf. He slung it over his shoulder.

  Clay laughed. “And what the hell are we gonna do with that?”

  “I don’t know,” Colt said. “But it’s better to have it, maybe lasso us some of those things. Easy kills.”

  Clay shook his head but didn’t argue.

  Colt turned back to the table and looked at their gear. Two knives. Seventeen bullets. One shinki. A rope.

  “Kevin,” Colt said. “Tell us about Earth six-one-two again.”

  Kevin’s light brightened. “Earth six-one-two experienced catastrophic Puha extraction approximately thirty-seven years ago. The dominant population was harvested by Oni forces. Residual corruption reanimated the deceased. Current corrupted population is estimated at four thousand two hundred individuals within a ten-mile radius of your arrival point.”

  Clay’s eyebrows went up. “Four thousand?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Colt picked up the Conduit Dagger and turned it over in his hand. The blade was dark, almost black, with that faint violet glow running along the edge. Then he slid it into his sheath.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “This thing absorbs Puha automatic, right?” Colt knew that was how it worked. But nerves were starting to kick in.

  “Affirmative,” Kevin said. “The Conduit Dagger converts absorbed shinki into purified Puha at a one-to-one ratio. No manual transfer required.”

  Colt nodded. “So I just gotta stab ’em.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “And they’re slow.”

  “Affirmative.”

  Colt looked at Clay. “We stay quiet. Stay hidden. You distract one or two at a time. I kill ’em with the dagger. We get the Puha. We get out.”

  Clay’s arms crossed. “And if it goes bad?”

  “Then we run,” Colt said. “Kevin, how long do we got before we need to come back?”

  “Time dilation ratio remains one thousand to one,” Kevin said. “You may operate for extended periods without consequence.”

  “So we got time,” Colt said.

  Clay rubbed his jaw. “You really think this is gonna work.”

  “Yeah,” Colt said.

  Clay stared at him a long moment, then sighed. “Alright. But if I die on some damn corrupted Earth, I’m gonna haunt your ass.”

  “Deal.”

  He picked up the Shink and closed his fist around it. The light pulled into his palm and he felt it climb up his arm and settle in his chest.

  PROJECT: LAST STAND v1.11

  Puha: 53.8

  He flexed his fingers. Every bit helped.

  He shoved the bullets into his satchel.

  Clay grabbed the Bowie.

  “You ready?” Colt said.

  Clay looked at the knife, then at Colt. “No. But let’s do it anyway.” Then he tucked it into his belt.

  They walked to the teleportation room together.

  Kevin followed behind them, his metal feet tapping the floor.

  The square platform sat in the middle of the room with the post sticking up out of the center. The red button on top glowed faint in the dim light.

  Colt stepped onto the platform. Clay stepped up beside him.

  “Kevin,” Colt said. “Where are we landin’?”

  “You will arrive somewhere within a ten-mile radius of the designated coordinates.”

  Colt opened his map with a thought. Earth 612 appeared in his vision. A ten-mile circle glowed faint, empty except for terrain markers and a grid pattern in the middle.

  “Somewhere,” Colt said. “So we could land anywhere in this circle.”

  “Affirmative. Arrival coordinates randomize within the perimeter.”

  “And where are the corrupted?”

  “Probability analysis indicates highest density in the central zones,” Kevin said. “Outer zones contain minimal presence. Approximately seventy percent likelihood of landing in low-threat areas.”

  Colt stared at the map. He could land on the edge, miles from any corrupted. Or closer. No way to control it.

  “Wait,” Colt said. “That compass, or um, the Spatial Anchor. The one I got at the museum. Can I use that?”

  “Affirmative,” Kevin said. “The Spatial Anchor allows manual coordinate selection.”

  “So I can pick exactly where we land,” Colt said.

  “Affirmative.”

  “How?”

  “Focus your intent on a location on the map.”

  Colt looked at the center of the circle. Where Kevin said the highest density was.

  “Colt,” Clay said, voice warning.

  A small red square appeared in the center of the grid.

  DESTINATION SET

  EARTH 612 - ZONE 4A

  “You just dropped us in the middle of ’em,” Clay said.

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s a bad idea.”

  “Better than landin’ ten miles out,” Colt said. “We got ten seconds before they’ll even know we’re there. Frozen time, remember?”

  Clay’s jaw worked. “And after that?”

  “We kill as many as we can in ten seconds,” Colt said. “Then we stay quiet. Move smart.”

  Clay stared at him. “Damn it, shit, fuck.”

  Colt’s hand went to the red button on the post.

  “You ready?” Colt said.

  “No. But let’s do it anyway.”

  Colt pressed the button.

  The pull hit hard.

  Colt’s stomach dropped and his fingers went numb. The air got yanked out of his chest. His boots left the platform but he couldn’t tell if he was standing or falling.

  The light snapped around him, bright as a weld, and everything pulled forward.

  His boots hit dirt and his knees bent to catch him.

  Clay stumbled beside him, one hand out to steady himself. “God—damn.”

  Colt blinked hard and looked around.

  They stood in the middle of a street. Buildings lined both sides, wood frames with busted windows. Doors hung crooked on broken hinges. Roofs sagged where beams had rotted through.

  Two figures stood ten feet ahead of them.

  Frozen.

  A man in a suit, one arm reaching forward like he’d been walking. His mouth hung open. Violet glowed faint in his eyes.

  A woman beside him, head tilted to the side. Her dress was dirty, ripped at the hem. Same violet glow.

  Colt’s hand went to the Conduit Dagger and pulled it free.

  MELEE WEAPON EQUIPPED

  Conduit Dagger

  “Colt, wait—” Clay started.

  Colt didn’t wait.

  He moved fast, boots kicking up dust. The man was closer. Colt drove the blade up through his eye socket. The resistance was soft at first, then it hit bone and punched through.

  Violet light pulsed once inside the man’s skull, then flashed white.

  PROJECT: LAST STAND v1.11

  Puha: 55.8

  Colt yanked the blade free and turned to the woman. He jammed the dagger into her temple.

  Another pulse.

  PROJECT: LAST STAND v1.11

  Puha: 57.8

  Everything started to wobble and the world unfroze.

  Both bodies hit the ground.

  Clay’s voice cut through. “Jesus, Colt.”

  Colt looked down at the man’s face. The violet was gone from his eyes now. They were just empty. Skin gray and sunken. Colt could see where the jaw had gone slack, where the teeth had rotted.

  This had been a person once. Somebody’s father, maybe. Somebody’s husband. He noticed something glint on his finger. A ring.

  Colt’s chest tightened.

  He forced himself to look at the wound he’d made. At the blood that wasn’t blood anymore, just dark fluid leaking slow.

  They’re not people anymore, he thought. They’re already gone.

  And if he didn’t do this, everyone on every Earth would end up like this.

  His grip tightened on the dagger.

  Two kills. Four Puha.

  He needed three hundred and sixty-nine.

  Colt wiped the blade on his pant leg and looked at Clay.

  Clay stared at the bodies, then at Colt. “You didn’t even give me a second.”

  “Couldn’t,” Colt said. “Ten-second window. Had to move.”

  Clay swallowed and nodded once.

  Colt scanned the street. More buildings ahead. An alley to the left. A busted storefront to the right with the door missing.

  Movement caught his eye.

  A figure shambled out from behind a building twenty yards down. Slow steps, arms hanging loose. It turned its head toward them like it heard something, but it didn’t move fast.

  Colt pointed. “There.”

  “I see it,” Clay said.

  They moved quiet, boots soft on the street. The shambler kept walking their direction, not rushed, just steady.

  Clay pulled the rope off Colt’s shoulder and started shaking out a loop.

  “You remember how to do this?” Colt said.

  “Yeah,” Clay said. “Pa taught us both.”

  They got within fifteen feet. The shambler’s head snapped toward them. Its mouth opened but no sound came out.

  Clay swung the rope once, twice, then let it fly.

  The loop dropped over the shambler’s head and shoulders. Clay yanked hard and the thing’s legs went out from under it. It hit the dirt face-first.

  Colt ran up and drove the dagger down through the back of its skull.

  The energy pulled into the blade.

  PROJECT: LAST STAND v1.11

  Puha: 59.8

  Colt pulled the dagger free and wiped it again.

  “See?” Colt said. “Easy. Been here for less than five minutes and already got six Puha.”

  Clay pulled the rope back and coiled it up. “Yeah. Easy.”

  Another one stumbled out from the alley to their left. Same slow walk, same empty violet eyes.

  “Again,” Colt said.

  Clay tossed the loop. It caught the shambler around the chest. Clay pulled and it went down.

  Colt stabbed it through the eye socket.

  PROJECT: LAST STAND v1.11

  Puha: 61.8

  Colt stood and scanned the street again. Nothing moved.

  “How many we need?” Clay asked.

  “Three hundred sixty-one,” Colt said. “We got a long way to go.”

  Clay huffed. “At this rate, we’ll be here all day.”

  “Then we better keep movin’.”

  They walked down the street, eyes on the buildings, on the alleys, on the broken windows.

  A figure appeared ahead. Solo. Shambling between two storefronts.

  “There,” Clay said.

  They moved in quiet.

  The shambler didn’t notice them. It just kept walking, head down, arms swinging loose.

  Colt pulled the dagger and got close.

  Then the shambler turned the corner.

  And Colt saw the rest.

  Dozens of them. Packed together in the space between buildings. Some standing still, some swaying. All of them with violet burning in their eyes.

  One turned its head toward Colt.

  Then another.

  Then all of them.

  “Shit,” Colt breathed.

  Clay stepped up beside him. “Oh hell.”

  The horde started moving.