GAVIN

  Pain...pain is nothing. Pain is immaterial. Pain is a signal in the brain.

  Pain...is weakness. And there's nothing worse than weakness.

  Gavin is wounded. But he's not in pain. He can't afford to be.

  A sudden tremor runs across the floor in the hallway. Renzo's grip tightens, as if he's fearful Gavin might fall over.

  Scowling, Gavin shoves Renzo away. "It's the arm, Renzo. I can still walk just fine."

  They're alone in the hallway. The citizens who were gathered in the Main Hall have already disappeared, taking refuge in various secluded rooms throughout the Cloister, no doubt.

  These people. They have no courage. No ability to stand up, to fight.

  But then, perhaps Gavin had done away with most of the fighters the Cloister had left. An unintended consequence of the way he'd been forced to handle things during the prison break.

  It had been one stroke of bad luck after another, since then. Back during the escape, Renzo had viewed Gavin with respect--awe, even.

  Now, Gavin sees pity in the comrade's eyes. Pity and uncertainty.

  No matter. He just needs to see that an upset like this isn't enough to stop Gavin. He's the only one that can get the Cloister through this.

  Gavin moves ahead, holding his head high, letting his broken arm dangle, even if the pain is enough to make him want to scream and scream and scream.

  "C'mon," Gavin says. "We have to--" Wincing, he slumps to one side, shoulder against the wall, cradling his arm. "Fuck, that hurts."

  Renzo comes to a stop next to him. He runs a palm over the top of his bald head while he looks Gavin up and down, assessing his condition.

  "What is it we have to do?" Renzo says, prompting him to finish the thought.

  "Well..."

  Where had he been going with that?

  He didn't know. He'd simply been...taking charge. Acting confident. As confident as one can be in a situation like this.

  Renzo studies him for a moment longer, then shakes his head. "There's no rulebook for this. We're completely out of our depth. And you know what? I think that's what Shiloh was trying to tell us. I think-- I think maybe we should have listened."

  "We should have--what!? Do you even hear yourself right now!? If we don't fight back, who will? Are we supposed to put our trust in that Ruster in there!?"

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  "It's blasphemy," Renzo says, a dark, far-off look in his eyes. "But maybe that's what the world has come to. Maybe God really has left this world behind."

  "I--I can't be hearing what I think I'm hearing. We kill Rusters. That's our job."

  "Except for the one called Daimon. That one, we keep alive."

  "We needed him for the ritual, in order to consecrate my rule, my authority."

  "And whose idea was that?" Renzo says, looking Gavin in the eyes.

  "Mine."

  "Was it?" Renzo folds his arms. The rifle dangles in front of his torso, connected to the strap looped over his shoulder. "I've been doing some thinking, Gavin."

  "We both know how good an idea that is."

  "Shut it," Renzo says sternly, holding up a finger. "Just listen. I was there. I heard those things Daimon told you, back in the cellblock. That stuff he put in your ear."

  "He's a snake. I won't disagree with you on that."

  "Yeah? And where is he, right now? What happened?"

  Gavin frowns. Grits his teeth. Slowly sinks down onto one knee. He feels real, real tired all of a sudden. Worn down. He's fought so hard, given so much of himself for the Cloister. And what does he get in return? The people turning their back on him. His right-hand man laying into him like he's a problematic child.

  "You were manipulated, Gavin. He tricked you."

  Gavin sits down on the floor, his back to the wall.

  "Gavin, are you listening?"

  "Oh, I heard you."

  Sighing, Renzo crouches down. "Look. We need to get as many of these people out as we can. We'll wrap that arm, and--"

  "I don't need your help."

  "Gavin. We have to--"

  "You heard me. Get the fuck away from me."

  Renzo stands. He hesitates for a moment, waiting for Gavin to say something. Then he shakes his head. He takes off down the hall, bootheels thumping and echoing. Around the corner he goes.

  Gone.

  It's all come down to this. Everyone's turned their backs on Gavin. There's nobody left.

  But he's never needed these people before. Not ever. It's always been the reverse. He's the pillar. The cornerstone of the community.

  They need him. But he can make it just fine without them.

  Minutes later, Gavin's made it to the locker room adjacent to one of the bay doors leading outside. He has a backpack stuffed full of supplies, including a week or two of rations, and two extra oxygen tanks. His arm is in a sling.

  Oh, he'll be back. One day.

  With any luck, he'll run across a place like Shiloh's precious facility. Start a life of his own, somewhere. One day--maybe months from now, maybe years--he'll come back, bringing new stockpiles of scavenged and repurposed tech with him. The Cloister will be forced to take him back, not just because of the treasures he'll bring with him, but because they'll need fertile males to repopulate the Cloister, after everything. After...this.

  After putting on his mask, Gavin overrides the bay door settings, opening both the chambers doors at the same time. It's the only way to leave the Cloister on one's own. Otherwise you need someone operating the doors while you step into the chamber.

  The sun is high and bright. The atmosphere may be toxic, but it still feels good to head out into the open air, to feel the wind on one's hair and face.

  As Gavin makes his way down the craggy hillside, the wind picks up a, blasting its way across the rocks, causing gravel and dust to blow this way and that along the hill.

  Only...no. That's not the wind, is it?

  Gavin slides to a stop on the dusty hill, bracing one boot against a big rock while he looks to the sky.

  There it is. Something so massive, so spectacular, that for a second or two, Gavin can't help but wonder if he's dreaming.

  A ship. A massive, sleek, grey ship. A flat, oval-esque shape, with big thrusters jutting out the sides and all along the bottom, a stream of hot fire and air erupting from each one.

  The great vessel descends quickly, settling down, sending up a localized sandstorm, blasting air in every direction.

  Gavin throws himself behind a boulder and covers his eyes.

  There's something terrible--terrifying, even--about the sudden manifestation of this incredible technology. Gavin should be afraid. He should be wondering what this means.

  Instead, he feels this above all: hope.