Chapter Thirty-Seven

  "Step into the storm, and you’ll find others braving it beside you." – Radan, Former Champion.

  Earth – Reno, Nevada

  Penny

  "Tech wanted me to let you know he’s only detecting two potential heavy surges near the earlier coordinates," Gerard said, his voice tinged with concern. He shifted uneasily, the brim of his Giants cap casting a faint shadow over his face. "What’s the plan, boss?"

  "You got words out of Tech?" Penny tore her gaze away from the window, her expression softening slightly as she turned to look at Gerard. He still wore the same getup she'd seen him in when they first met—Giants cap tilted at just the right angle, a worn white shirt with a stain that had long outlasted its origin, and a beer belly that stubbornly endured despite Gerard’s reputation as the hardest worker in their growing Reno team.

  "Grunting is an art form, ma’am," Gerard replied, his trademark candid grin lighting up his face. "There’s a whole language in looks, grunts, and finger-pointing. Tech and I? We’re fluent—same wavelength."

  "Right." Penny let the humor settle for a beat, but her mind was already miles ahead. She crossed her arms tightly and leaned against the window frame. “I hate to ask, but… any departers since the last presidential update?” Her voice, steady as it was, betrayed a faint edge of weariness. She needed clarity.

  The Presidential radio broadcast had cut deeper than she’d anticipated—it wasn’t every day one was branded an enemy of not just the United States, but the world. To have the leader of the free world publicly label them alien traitors? It was a staggering blow, the kind of gut punch that reverberated long after the initial strike. Confidence, always a precarious balancing act for Penny, now wavered under the weight of her new reality as the de facto leader of a fledgling, fragile community.

  “Just a few,” Gerard answered casually, “but if you don’t mind me saying, they were the types who brought extra umbrellas to the desert. Not exactly team players. No great loss.”

  “And recruitment?” Penny asked, pushing for a fuller picture.

  “It’s slowed,” Gerard admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I’d say that’s a sign of the stability we’ve managed to build here. People don’t want to leave when they feel safe. Not until supplies run low, at least. Gives us breathing room to prepare.”

  Penny knew he wasn’t giving her the whole story. It's not that he was lying—it's more like he was smoothing the rough edges to keep morale intact. She nodded, though, taking the feedback at face value. For now, she’d let it stand.

  She shifted the topic back to his original question. “The plan is… flexible," she said, tilting her head thoughtfully. Her eyes flicked back to the window, where sunlight gleamed harshly against the scattered debris lining the street. "Luck and Reynold made it back, but their intel is frustratingly vague. Same rehearsed lines—‘cavalry incoming,’ reinforcements on the way—but nothing concrete. Am I right in assuming the other hot spot is at the state's southern edge?”

  Gerard straightened slightly. "Yeah, that’s the latest. About a forty-mile gap exists between the break zone and the nearest coordinates. Not swarming yet, but they’re creeping toward the closest town. Nick’s monitoring the radio traffic there, keeping the locals on high alert."

  “Good," Penny said, exhaling some of the tension from her chest. "Tell Nick I appreciate his initiative—I’ll skip any more radio updates for now. Did Tech give any guesses on the kind of swarm heading our way?”

  Gerard hesitated. “It’s… tricky. Maybe hive-minded? The movement patterns fit. They’re spreading out, small groups fanning out from a central point.”

  “Great,” Penny muttered dryly. “More good news. Let’s roll with it—it gives us at least some sense of what we’re dealing with.” She sighed, letting the matter settle before her attention snapped to the street outside.

  Her breath caught. A yellow school bus was rounding the corner onto Virginia Street, its front bumper scraping loudly against the asphalt. Penny grabbed Gerard’s arm, her tone sharp and urgent. "Look there! Signal the team!"

  As Penny shouted, another bus followed close behind the first, this one in slightly better shape, though its wear and tear still betrayed the journey it had endured. Soon, the street began to fill with the low rumble of engines and the distant hum of approaching wheels. One by one, an entire convoy of buses began merging onto the road, like a lifeline threading its way into the heart of their haven. The sight was both overwhelming and galvanizing.

  "They brought company!" Penny yelled, her voice cutting through the growing noise as Gerard sprinted toward the Casino to spread the word. She turned without hesitation, weaving through the chaos toward the shuttle entryway. It was the only path wide enough to accommodate the incoming brigade, and the sheer number of vehicles made her heart race—not with fear, but with the weight of responsibility.

  She barely opened the heavy double doors before the first battered bus pulled in. It groaned under its weight, the front bumper hanging precariously, its once-vivid yellow paint dulled and scorched, now closer to burnt orange. A single tire wobbled on the verge of giving out, the rim scraping the asphalt with a grating metallic screech. Finally, the bus shuddered to a stop. Penny caught her breath just as the door creaked open.

  Reynold leaned out from the driver’s seat, his grin wide and triumphant, as though he had just conquered the unthinkable. Dirt streaked his face, but his confidence radiated nonetheless, filling the space like a beacon. "First-class delivery, right on time!" he declared, giving her a mock salute.

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  Before she could react, a figure stepped off the bus with measured grace. Penny’s focus shifted to the woman, her curly black hair framing a face filled with warmth that was almost disarming. Her presence was magnetic, her smile radiating a kindness that felt like an anchor in the chaos. Without warning, she pulled Penny into a firm yet comforting hug.

  "You must be Penny," the woman said, her voice carrying a soothing strength that seemed to settle Penny’s frayed nerves. The hug was so unexpected and genuine that Penny didn’t resist; instead, she sank into it for a fleeting moment, letting the feeling of safety wash over her.

  "Ease up, Zola," came Luck’s familiar voice as he climbed off the bus behind her, each movement betraying the pain of his injuries. His black eye had darkened further, and the dried blood still clinging to his temple added to his already battered appearance. "She’s shy," he said with a faint smirk, his tone teasing despite his obvious discomfort.

  "And since when do you decide what I can and can’t do?" Zola shot back, her gaze sharp but playful as she kept her hold on Penny a moment longer. Leaning closer, her voice dropped to a whisper meant for Penny alone. "Thank you—for standing with my son. For being the hope we needed. You’ve done more than I can ever repay."

  Penny blinked, caught off guard, but before she could respond, Zola stepped back, her expression composed once more. "Penny," she continued, gesturing toward the bus. "This is my friend Oscar—he’s been my rock through all this. You can trust him with anything. And as for the rest of them," she waved toward the busload of people still shuffling forward, "they’re from the YMCA shelter we managed. We’ve got more buses coming—city residents with nowhere else to go. I know it’s a lot, but we’re counting on you to make room."

  Penny nodded, her mind spinning through the logistics—but as overwhelming as it felt, she did not hesitate in her response. "We’ll figure it out," she said, her voice quiet but resolute.

  “Yes, we will.” Her voice lingered on the "we". “And don’t worry about hospitality; my friends and I will take care of that." Zola seemed to sense Penny’s reaction. “Leave it to us. You focus on other things.”

  Penny breathed for a moment, her shoulders easing as her gaze settled on Luck and Mr. Reynold again. The concern etched in her expression softened. "How are you both holding up?" she asked. "We’ve got nurses inside—they’ve honed some minor healing abilities. Nothing advanced yet, but with more time and Nadia’s help, I’m optimistic. A limp and a black eye? Those should be easy fixes."

  Mr. Reynold's grin widened, the mischievous smile that usually meant trouble. "Oh, the black eye? That wasn’t courtesy of the Shadow Gale," he began, barely suppressing his laughter.

  "Steve," Luck growled in warning, his voice low but threatening.

  But Mr. Reynold wasn’t about to let the moment slip away. "Miss Zola here," he continued, his words tumbling out between chuckles, "gave him a follow-up knockout punch in the van—after he came to!"

  Mr. Reynold’s eyes gleamed with delight as he delivered the literal punchline, his laughter infectious, though Luck’s scowl made it clear he wasn’t sharing in the humor.

  Standing nearby, Zola gave a faux smile that teetered on the edge of playful and unapologetic. "He had it coming," she said lightly before her expression softened into the warmth that seemed to radiate naturally from her. She returned to the stream of people still stepping off the bus, greeting each new face with genuine care.

  Eager to steer the conversation away from his less-than-graceful moments, Luck cleared his throat. "We’ve got one more surprise," he announced, his voice regaining its steady authority. His gaze lingered briefly on Zola before shifting toward the final figures emerging from the bus. "Tech’s coordinates flagged a point near the 395 north on-ramp. Following that lead, we found a couple of familiar faces."

  The gathering crowd parted slightly as a middle-aged couple stepped off the bus. Their fatigue was evident in their movements, but their eyes carried a quiet strength. The man’s shoulders straightened as he took in the scene, his posture almost defiant against the weariness clinging to him.

  Luck raised his voice, addressing the group. "Penny, everyone—this is Ben and Melissa Brandt. Emy’s parents. Their daughter is the reason we’re all still in this fight."

  Ben scanned the crowd before his gaze settled on Penny. His expression wasn’t one of shock but of a man who had decided to rise to match his daughter's strength—strength he had witnessed firsthand when she had stood against the void snake, her resolve unyielding in the face of the arena’s chaos. The memory of the off-world fans cheering, of the President condemning her and her team, lingered in his mind, but he wouldn’t let it diminish the moment. Instead, he spoke with quiet conviction. "No, she’s not the only one. Not by a long shot. But it seems she’s found the right people at the right time. Thank you for taking us in."

  A softer voice called from the crowd as Ben finished speaking. "Melissa?"

  The woman turned, her tired face brightening slightly as recognition flickered in her eyes. "It’s me," Courtney said, stepping forward hesitantly. Her emotions were laid bare—relief, guilt, and a hesitant hope mingled in her expression. The last time she’d seen Melissa had been during a petty D3 soccer feud, a memory that felt trivial and distant in light of everything that had happened since. "I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help Emy," she said, her voice breaking as tears rose.

  Melissa’s brow furrowed as she studied the young woman. The face was familiar, though it took a moment for the memory to surface. Their interaction had been brief and unremarkable at the time, but now, it carried a weight neither could have anticipated. Melissa stepped forward and cupped Courtney’s face gently. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she said, her voice warm and steady. "You’re here. We’re alive."

  Courtney shook her head, the guilt still evident in her voice. "I should’ve done more," she choked out.

  Melissa placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, her grip firm but comforting. "And you will," she said simply, her words carrying the quiet strength of someone who had endured more than most. "We all will."

  "Alright, let’s get these people inside!" Reynold’s voice rang out, snapping the moment back to the present. He was already directing the growing crowd, gesturing for the newcomers to make way as another bus rumbled into the vicinity.

  Luck watched the organized chaos unfold with a measured gaze before returning to Penny. "What’s the plan?" he asked, his tone steady but carrying an undertone of urgency.

  Penny’s expression changed, the warmth from their earlier exchanges giving way to the weight of command. "The swarm heading for Will’s family’s coordinates is massive," she said. "But we’ve got some time—at least we hope we do." Her voice lowered slightly as she signaled to Gerard, who jogged back toward her. "Ger, gather a team and get Kepler on board. I need three buses set up for offense. Fully stocked, fully armed. Think battering ram."

  Gerard nodded, his movements brisk as he took off again toward the Casino.

  Penny turned back to Luck and Reynold. "Luck, you, me, Nick, and Courtney will organize teams for each van—small units prepped to clear out anyone left in the town. We roll out in three hours."

  Luck’s lips twitched into a faint smile, revealing in Penny’s confidence. "Deal," he said, his gaze flicking to Mr. Reynold. "But Steve’s with me."

  Mr. Reynold gave a solemn nod, his expression losing some of its usual humor.

  Penny’s lips curved into a brief, amused smile. "Well, look at you two—besties now." Then, with a sharp clap of her hands, her voice rang out over the murmuring crowd. "Let’s move, people! Time’s not on our side."