“I guess that’s my cue to take over.” Cassie says.

  “Only if you want to!” I say quickly. “I’m ok not knowing.”

  “It’s fine.” She shrugs. “I’ve told my story to people I like way less than you. They’re old memories, and I want you to hear them.”

  You saw the little village I grew up in. It was a hell of a lot different than here. It was quiet, slow. There weren’t many kids there, most of the time it would be just me and my mom. She’d go out to meet the traders that came by semi-regularly, or deliver a meal to the neighbors, and I’d trot along behind her from the day I could walk.

  I was a menace. Mom just wanted some help, someone to carry stuff, to help her cook or fix a tear in clothes. I just wanted to run off and get into trouble. I wanted to trade with the traders like the adults did, I wanted to learn to fight. I used to go up to the edge of the walkway our house was built into, grab the edge, and swing below it just to avoid using the stairs. It nearly killed Mom every time she saw me do that. Nearly killed me too a few times, but she didn’t know that.

  More than anything though, I wanted to be with Dad. He was busy, not around very often. He and a few other guys were the only ones who left the village. They’d go out and trade every few storms. What we actually traded, I have no idea. I was too young to care. We never went hungry, and that’s all I cared about.

  Even when he was home, he stayed busy. He’d work on the few electronics we had, making sure the windmill kept spinning and the power for the lights stayed on. Or he’d be posted out front in a little bunker built at the entrance. He’d come back for food, and some nights he’d even sleep in their bed.

  I was around seven before I realized I could just sneak away from Mom. She’d send me out to deliver a job she did. I’d get it done, but on the way home? I’d go find Dad. When he was in the bunker, I’d pull up a seat and hang out with him. When he was working on electronics, he’d scoot just a tiny bit to the side so I could see.

  We rarely said anything, but every time he had the same greeting. He’d glance at me and turn back to whatever he was doing. He’d stay silent for a few seconds before breaking it.

  “Does your mom know you’re here?”

  “I’m running an errand.” I’d say every time.

  “Well. It’d be a shame if you got delayed.”

  And then the two of us would silently watch the desert, or I’d try to comprehend whatever electronic thing he was working on. He taught me everything I knew, and never said a word on how to do it. It was a lot more field repair than actual permanent solutions, but turns out it’s exactly what I needed to keep these old legs going.

  Cassie reaches down to bang on her legs, the clang of her metal fist echoing through the room.

  She’d rarely say anything when I returned. She knew where I was. She knew I was safe. Sometimes I’d push her patience too far, and she’d try to ground me. I’d just climb out the window as soon as she was out of the room. Dad never sent me home, even if I probably deserved it. I was a little shit.

  The older I got, the more Mom tried to push me into being like her. Endlessly helpful, quiet, patient. To do nothing more dangerous than getting a burn on the stove or pricking my finger with a needle.

  Of course I hated that. The harder she pushed, the further I did the same. I started exploring the Grand Canyon. Not far, just the desert around the entrance. And I wasn’t stupid, I never went out while it was dangerous. Never when a storm was on its way, and never when cars were visible.

  You wouldn’t believe how much Mom yelled at me the first time she found me out there. She tried to ground me for a month. She even slept in the living room to stop me from slipping out.

  I’ll let you guess if that stopped me or not.

  When I finally slipped past her, I went straight for the bunker. Dad wasn’t home, and there’s no way he’d be anywhere else.

  I walked in, and he asked a different question. I knew I was in trouble.

  “I thought your mom grounded you.”

  “I’m… running an errand.” I didn’t know what else to say. I wasn’t expecting him to say anything else.

  He turned his head and stared me down before turning back to the desert, trying to hide a small smile.

  “Here. If you’re going to get in trouble, you need a way to get out.” He reached down to his hip, unclipped his knife, and handed it to me, still in its sheath. I just held it in my hands and stared at it. “It saved me during the war when I was a kid, and if you’re lucky, it won’t have to do the same for you.”

  I grabbed the sheath and hilt and pulled it back half an inch, watching the dim light reflect across the metal.

  “That thing’s not a toy.” He stressed. “It’s a weapon and a tool, in that order. The only times you draw it are to defend yourself, to take care of it, to use it as a tool, or to practice. That’s it. And the second you’re done, it goes back in your sheath. Go ahead and draw it, we’ll start with learning and practice.”

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  Dad and I stayed out there until the sun came up. It was by far the most words he’s ever said to me. Maybe even more words that night than the rest of my life.

  When I got home, Mom was already up. She wasn’t surprised to see me coming in, and when she saw the knife on my hip, her shoulders dropped.

  “Cassandra.”

  “Dad taught me about it. It’s not a toy, I know.”

  She stepped forward and pulled me tightly into her.

  “I love you. If you want to take after your dad so badly,” she paused to let out a shaky breath. “I won’t stop you. Just promise me you’ll stay safe.”

  “I will.” I hugged her back. “Does this mean I’m not grounded anymore?”

  She laughed at that.

  “Does it matter either way? You’re not going to listen to me.”

  “Thank you!” I ran to my room, I really couldn’t fall into my bed fast enough.

  The next few years were nice. I practiced in the bunker with Dad watching. He’d correct my form a few times, but for the most part he was just there to supervise.

  I was with him when it happened. He was listening idly to the radio. He sat up straight and pushed on his headset with one hand, trying to hear more clearly.

  “Cassandra, go find your mother.” He shot out of his chair and headed towards the wall. There was a rope that he pulled, ringing bells across the town.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Raiders. Keep her safe.” At the back of the bunker there was a small armory. He started getting prepared. “Remember what to run through?”

  “Do I recognize them? Are they armed? Are they hostile?” I answered.

  “Good. I’ll come find you when we’re safe.”

  “Ok.” I ran out of the bunker and past the small trickle of people responding to the alarm. One of the guys yelled at me as he passed.

  “Mini Miller! What’s going on?”

  “Mini Miller?” I ask.

  “Dad went by our last name, Miller. I was his shadow for a few years, and I picked up his nickname.”

  “Dad got a message on the radio!” I yelled back. “Raiders!”

  “Just raiders? Or something else?”

  “That’s all he said!” I disappeared into the staircase built into the wall and sprinted upstairs. They kept me sheltered from the news of AI. I honestly had no idea the shitshow that was coming our way.

  Mom was pale, digging through a box in our closet. She glanced over her shoulder as I entered. She was so afraid.

  “It’s ok! I’ll protect you!”

  “Your dad will be sad if you have to.” She turned around, pistol in hand. She was comfortable with it, and I'd never even seen her so much as touch the things.

  “Why are you so scared?” I asked. “We've had raiders before.”

  “These might be bots, not humans.” She crouched down to answer, eye to eye. “It'll be ok though. We'll keep each other safe.”

  “Alright.”

  The two of us made a little fort in our living room. We knocked over the kitchen table and stacked a few chairs and pans in front of it. It wasn't much, but she was really trying to keep me distracted. And it worked.

  Less than an hour later, the fighting started. It wasn't like the raiders I've heard before. It wasn't just gunfire.

  Explosions rocked the canyon, with gunfire coming only a moment later. I could hear the bullets impacting the walls just outside our house. Pebbles tumbling down the walls from missed shots. I didn't have my ears yet, thankfully I couldn't hear anyone dying.

  The fighting was quick, and the world went quiet.

  “Stay here, and keep your head down.” Mom pushed me down and creeped around the barricade. She headed towards the door, slowly pushed the door open, and poked her head out.

  I watched her die.

  She just collapsed. No crying, no yelling. Just brains hitting the wooden ground.

  I sprinted out and grabbed her leg, pulling her back inside. I tried to shovel her brain back into her head, begging, pleading for her to be ok.

  The fighting started again. People screamed as they forced their way into houses, ending with a shot. They cleared the buildings methodically. It wasn't long before I heard one right outside our door.

  I saw red. The same red as her blood pooling on the ground.

  I drew my knife and sprinted out just as it was trying to open the door. I stuck my knife in it and ran. I flipped myself down to the floor below, same as I'd done a thousand times.

  I'm amazed I made it that far before getting shot.

  I stumbled towards the wall, and my memory gets iffy from there. I remember flashes. Unless someone at the AI city was there, I can’t give you everything.

  “I can ask.” I say.

  “Don’t bother.” Vince interrupts. “Not a single one of them lived. All of them had wireless connections, and Silver and Clover used that to make sure every single one of them was unrecoverable.”

  I remember an explosion, and the ground missing from under me. I remember air rushing past me. I remember the impact with the ground. All of that is burned into my brain.

  Dull gunfire pounded against my shattered ear drums as I laid in the sand, unable to force air into my lungs. Cold spread through my body, starting at my waist.

  There was someone running towards me, a flash of silver and black. I thought they were an angel coming down to meet me.

  They didn’t say anything, just kept their head down and worked on my legs. An incredibly painful pressure pushed on my legs, just below my hips. I distinctly remember them lurching forward half an inch, and the sound of a bullet impact. They just kept working.

  I remember they yelled over the fighting to someone behind them, but I don’t remember what they said.

  “I do.” Vince says. “They said you needed blood, that you’d die without it. Mara yelled at me to stay, to not abandon the fight. I tried to fight quickly.”

  The fighting died down, and a second person stood above me. I remember a needle going into my arm, and a red tube connecting me to someone above me.

  I just laid there, trying desperately to fight against the darkness encroaching on my vision, just staring at the person above me. I tried to talk, to move. Exhaustion eventually took me, thankfully.

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