THE MAD PROFESSOR

  Rummaging in his coat, Will pulled out his slate and reopened the report he had been reading earlier. The screen’s soft glow illuminated his face, sharpening the furrow in his brow.

  His eyes lingered on the grainy image of a hollowed young man—Crowley from the case file. The man’s sunken eyes seemed far older than his actual age, etched with exhaustion and madness. Crowley had once been lauded as a prodigy: graduating from Almere University at seventeen with a bachelor’s in chemistry, completing his doctorate in just five years, and then spending a decade as a professor. He could have continued on that prestigious path, but something in him had shifted.

  The report detailed Crowley’s decision to leave the Tower, forsaking the comforts of academia to teach in the outer settlements. At first, he had been celebrated as a hero, an altruist bringing knowledge to underprivileged children. But those happy times didn’t last. The same man who had built schools eventually began destroying them.

  Will scrolled through graphic reports of bombings, the devastation etched in stark, sobering photographs: charred buildings, bodies of children half-buried in debris, and grieving survivors clutching at the ruins of their lives. His fingers tightened around the slate, the cold metal digging into his palm as the weight of the images bore down on him.

  The bombings continued for years. Though whispers of the Revenant’s resurgence grew louder, the organization never officially claimed responsibility. Instead, Crowley became a specter, a boogeyman invoked to terrorize those who opposed the Revenant.

  “What a monster,” Becca breathed beside him, her voice heavy, echoing his thoughts.

  Will turned the slate away from her, shielding her from the worst of it. “You need to rest,” he said gently. “I’ll keep watch.”

  Becca hesitated but eventually settled beside him. She lay down, draping an arm over his hand. “Don’t let your guard down,” she murmured, already half-asleep.

  “I won’t,” Will promised, watching her drift off, her arm curling lightly around his hand. He waited until her breathing evened out before turning his attention back to the slate.

  The minutes dragged on as the truck rocked gently along the uneven roads. Will kept a close watch on their route, noting every turn and shift. Big Joe seemed trustworthy enough, but that was no reason to be complacent.

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  About an hour later, Will noticed a distinct change in the atmosphere. The air grew colder, and his field prickled as the static around him intensified. The truck had activated its field. They had crossed the Tower’s border, entering the harsh lands beyond.

  Will woke Becca for her shift and laid down to sleep after a quiet exchange of words. His body ached from hours of stillness, and it took a while for him to drift off. Sleep didn’t come easily. His dreams were chaotic—shifting colors and vivid, disjointed imagery that blurred the line between memory and imagination. The static hum of the truck blended into the cacophony of his mind.

  A firm shake jolted him awake. Will blinked blearily, Remy’s face coming into focus.

  “You up? It’s time,” Remy said, his voice low but urgent.

  Will stretched, shaking off the remnants of sleep as Remy moved to wake Becca. The truck had come to a halt, its rumbling engine now silent.

  The walkie-talkie crackled to life. Big Joe’s curt voice came through. “Come on. We’re burning daylight here.”

  Will flung on his coat and patted the inside pocket, feeling the reassuring weight of the pistol. Satisfied it was secured, he turned his attention to his duffle bag, retrieving gear and passing it to Remy and Becca.

  “All set?” Will asked, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

  Remy gave a thumbs-up as he adjusted his gear.

  A sharp banging came from the front cabin.

  “All right, keep your hair on!” Remy called out, annoyance lacing his voice.

  The trio navigated through the stacked crates and flung the doors open. The wind howled, bringing with it a flurry of snow.

  One by one, they jumped out, their boots crunching against the icy ground. Will quickly slammed the trailer shut, securing the latch as Remy rounded the truck to speak with the driver. Becca wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as the cold seeped through her layers.

  “So cold,” she muttered, her breath fogging in the air as she rubbed her gloved hands together.

  “Put your rebreather on,” Will instructed, pulling his own into place. The device hissed softly as it activated, filtering the sharp, frosty air into something breathable. Becca followed his lead, flipping up her hood and disappearing into the shadows of her gear.

  Shouts broke through the wind, carrying over from the front of the truck. Will and Becca exchanged a glance, pausing to listen.

  “Derbent is still a bit further off! Only a five-minute drive!” Remy’s voice called out.

  “This ain’t a taxi shuttle!” came the driver’s retort, his tone gruff and final. “I’m not risking my cargo anywhere near that place. Now pay up!”

  Will trudged through the snow toward the commotion, but by the time he arrived, Remy had already finished the transaction. The driver slammed his door shut, and the truck’s engine roared to life. With a spray of snow from its tires, the vehicle rumbled down the icy road, its trailer swaying precariously as it disappeared into the swirling white.

  Remy let out a visible sigh, his breath fogging through the rebreather. “Guess we’re on foot now. It’s not far.”

  Will adjusted the strap of his duffle bag. “Ready?”

  They both nodded, determination etched into their faces.

  “Let’s move.”

  Will took the lead, his boots crunching through the snow as they trudged forward, eyes fixed on the horizon. Derbent awaited.

  +10 Chapters

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