Jason cried as he lunged for the shattered pieces of the tablet scattered across the tan clay.

  "Leave the map; I'll improvise!" Flint growled as he fumbled for his weapon, though Jason caught the panic in the boy's eyes.

  "Don't come any closer!" Flint cried as he leveled the gun at the filthy men. "One more step, and I'll shoot!"

  Jason quickly profiled the gun as a newer J Radiance model, but something looked off. Ignoring Flint’s warning, Jason darted forward, snatching the largest fragments of the tablet. A quick glance confirmed what Flint already knew: it was beyond saving.

  "Jason!" Flint panicked.

  Jason looked up to see the five men trot forward, their eyes gleaming hungrily.

  "I'll shoot! I mean it!" Flint threatened desperately.

  The wild men paused for a moment at the sight of the weapon.

  "Oo tech, Nime fouler dol," one hissed to the other.

  "Chedol fouler dol," their leader commanded, and they continued onward, undeterred.

  The tone and language were strange to Jason's ears. He couldn't begin to guess what they were saying.

  "Desh," Flint cursed as he lowered his weapon.

  "Flint," Jason cried in alarm. "Give me the gun!"

  "You think I would actually point a gun at a cop?" Flint hissed. "It's an airsoft gun."

  "What?" Jason shouted as he made the connection.

  Though modeled after a real firearm, its edges were too smooth, and bits of the gun were flimsy. With a cry of exasperation, Jason snatched the plastic toy out of Flint's hands. "Flint, run!"

  "The map?" Flint cried.

  "Broken. Run!"

  The brothers spun and sprinted away from the oncoming pack of savage men.

  "Stay with me!" Flint cried, but he bit his tongue as if he were pushing through pain. "If we get separated, you die!"

  "I die?" Jason cried through labored breaths. "What about you?"

  "My chances of survival are a lot better without you,” Flint gasped. "Good thing I'm such a great brother, right?"

  Another fist-sized stone zipped through the trees, only feet from Jason's head, and the leader let out a cry of disappointment as his projectile missed.

  If strange men chasing them on an alien planet with knives weren't motivating enough for Jason to run as fast as he could, that rock was.

  He screamed as he pressed on, sprinting as fast as his body would allow. His unexercised legs dragged like lead, and his lungs burned. Flint inched past Jason, making him the closest target.

  Think, Jason, think! The sound of his father's voice etched its way into his head, slicing through his panic. The tone and timbre of Arthur’s voice were part of him, cemented into his psyche through repetitive training sessions with his father during the never-ending conflicts of the Far East.

  If you find yourself outnumbered and hunted, find a way to divide your pursuers. Seek high ground and get the sun in their eyes.

  Jason didn't want to recall his father's voice; it reminded him of the old days, which he worked hard to forget. And yet, inevitably, in a crisis, the words stuck with him. Despite the intrusive memories, Jason had to recognize the truth in his father's teachings. He spared a glance for their pursuers.

  The men ran gamely onward, but they seemed winded. One of them, who appeared to be the runt of the group, ran without a shirt; his skin stuck directly onto his rib cage. It was obviously difficult for the sickly, malnourished scavengers to give chase. Jason felt a glimmer of hope - if they could splinter the pack, they wouldn’t have to face them head-on.

  Flint apparently reached the same conclusion: he shrugged his backpack off his back and brought it around the front, so he wore it on his chest. The maneuver forced him to fall back several paces, and Jason cried out alarmingly.

  "Keep running!" Flint cried as he awkwardly worked the zipper at a sprint. "I have a plan."

  Jason didn't like the idea of leaving Flint behind, but still surging with adrenaline, he obeyed.

  He checked every few paces to ensure his little brother didn't fall prey to the wild men.

  Split them up! Jason thought frantically for a solution, and Flint pulled a goose-down jacket from his backpack. Jason cried in surprise when he saw it. "That's my jacket!" He had left it on a hanger in the closet the night before, and sure enough, it was making its way out of Flint's backpack. Not even the family was immune to Flint's 'borrowing.'

  "Literally the least of our problems right now!" Flint cried back as he hurled the coat into the tree branches above.

  Jason cried out again; the coat cost two perdek of a charcoin. He quickly overcame his despair as he noticed the wildman without a shirt broke off from the pack and ran after the garment as it rolled out of the branches and fell to the ground.

  Flint reached into the bag, pulled out a can of food, and chucked it to the left. The runt veered from his course to claim his prize. He snatched it, sat down, and tried to break the tin shell against a rock.

  Two others yelled in protest as they saw their comrade hoarding the spoils to himself and bounded to ensure their fair share.

  Flint seemed to have had the same idea of separating them. Jason tried to smile approvingly, but the sharp pain in his side and the acidic burn in his lungs manifested his expression as a hoarse bark.

  Seeing his idea work, Flint started throwing out cans, vacuum-sealed military rations, and granola bars, causing most remaining men to dart after the food articles and lose interest in their prey.

  Flint dug into his pack and pulled out a plastic bag filled with crushed granola bars but decided to push it back into his backpack, unwilling to part with all of their rations.

  The leader of their unwelcoming party closed the distance on Flint. The wildman flashed a toothy grin as he pulled out a large, rusted knife and held it pointed down.

  Jason forced himself to stop and turn towards them, ready to charge the wildman bearing down on his brother.

  "No!" he cried as he turned back.

  Flint held something plastic in his clenched fist and slammed it into his leg like an auto-injector allergy pen. Flint's eyes widened, and he shot off at nearly three times the speed he was running while throwing food out. But his step was wrong; he wasn't properly landing on his right foot.

  "RUN, JASON!" Flint cried with tremendous volume as he shot past Jason. "I TOLD YOU I'M FINE!"

  The alpha of the group howled in protest as he realized he had been baited by his smaller prey. He had been allowed to draw near and was led to grossly underestimate Flint's speed and energy as his companions stopped to settle for the lesser offerings. He had committed to catching Flint and didn't intend to return empty-handed.

  Jason didn't need to be told twice; he continued to run despite his fatigued muscles as he lagged behind Flint.

  Flint sprinted at an almost inhuman pace, not growing tired or even panting. Jason cursed himself for falling victim to indulgence in Rachel's fantastic cooking.

  They ran into an area thickly wooded with trees. The ground grew dustier instead of hard and cracked, and a layer of oddly long feather leaves covered the forest floor.

  As they fled, Flint cried out, and he pulled to a stop. Jason scanned the area ahead, trying to discern the cause of Flint's outburst, but didn't see anything.

  Flint retraced his steps, bounding back to Jason several paces, catching him by the sleeve. Then, pulling Jason to the side and around in a sharp but small semicircle, Flint caused them to lose their lead.

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  "What are you thinking?" Jason cried as their pursuer howled victoriously, closing the final few paces.

  Flint stopped and faced the man with a smile. Jason fell back a few paces and tried to drag Flint with him.

  Jason smelt the wildman's breath as he lunged at them. The moment seemed to suspend in time as Jason threw himself on Flint. He clenched his eyes shut, using himself as a barrier between the wildman’s knife and his brother.

  The knife didn't meet its mark. With his eyes closed tight, Jason heard a snap, a rustle of the long feathery leaves, and a startled cry from the wildman, followed by a dull thud.

  Flint pushed Jason away harshly and let out a loud and dry laugh.

  Surprised by the fact that he hadn't been disemboweled by a rusty knife, Jason opened his eyes and turned around.

  The wildman was gone; in his place gaped a pit about eight feet in diameter. The woods echoed with a low moan of pain coming from the bottom of the hole.

  "What?" Jason gasped.

  "IT'S A PITFALL!" Flint bellowed.

  "Flint, calm down." Jason recoiled at Flint's outburst.

  Flint shook his head helplessly. "CAN'T!" He opened his hand to show Jason the plastic auto shot in his hand. "STIM PEN!"

  Jason took the thick plastic pen from Flint and narrowed his eyes at the chemical weapon. The label read Manticore Inc., and Jason personally knew the scientist who headed Manticore Inc.'s auto-shot development lab.

  He stiffened. He had often found himself a private guinea pig for her disgusting toys.

  "This is Mom's," Jason said. "You shot yourself with adrenaline when you fell behind."

  Flint nodded frantically, seemingly not fully trusting himself to speak. "I found it in one of Dad's safe rooms!" Flint shouted, but he managed to gnaw off some of the volume of his screamed words.

  Jason dropped the pen to the ground and turned to the ominous hole that occupied the ground before them. The wildman was still moaning from somewhere deep within.

  "A pitfall?" Jason grimaced, not daring to look inside. "Flint, I would have run straight into it if you didn't stop me. How did you see it?" Jason asked.

  Flint shrugged. "It's a covered pit; it's not rocket science!" He shouted. "I used them all the time to catch small game!"

  Jason winced, not accustomed to conversational shouting.

  Flint sauntered right up to the edge, and Jason cried out in protest. "Flint, don't get so close!"

  "Why not?" Flint asked; his jittery movements signified that his small body couldn't contain the energy coursing through him. "I want to see!"

  "Flint, you can't even walk straight!" Jason ran up to his brother and grabbed Flint's arm. Jason glimpsed the wildman clawing at the pit's wall below.

  The pit was deep, very deep, at least twenty feet. One of the wildman’s legs bent the wrong way, transforming him from predator to prey. Despair danced in his light brown eyes. He screamed unintelligible words as he clawed the earth at the side of the trap.

  From Jason's new perspective, the hunter was pathetic. The wildman’s abject terror wasn't reserved for the Vances; he glanced around the mouth of the pit helplessly, cursing and shouting in his own language.

  Jason was struck by a sinking thought.

  "Flint, how deep does a trap have to be to trap a rabbit?"

  Still unable to stand, Flint bounced up and down on his toes. "I don'knowdonknow'donknow! It depends. If I have a bucket at the base, it only needs to be a few feet deep, deep, deep!" Flint's hype evolved from shouted words to hyperspeech.

  Jason barely noticed; his thoughts were too busy making sense of their situation. "Then what the desh dug a pit deep enough to make a man look like a mouse?"

  The context of Jason's question justified the fear in the man's eyes. Jason saw no clean shovel blade marks or evidence that an excavator had dug the pit. Unless someone dug it with their bare hands, the hole was probably not man-made. What on Ash could have made such an impressive man trap, if that were the case? Seeing the dread in the trapped savage's eyes, Jason couldn't help but feel that the wildman knew precisely what dug it.

  "What do we do?" Jason mostly asked himself as he glanced around cautiously just in case whoever or whatever dug the trap came back.

  "We don't stick, stick, stick around." Flint chattered. "And we watch the ground, the ground, the ground carefully!"

  "Good Idea," Jason nodded in agreement. "What about him?" Jason motioned to the panicked wildman.

  "You want to get him out, out, out?" Flint rolled his eyes as he shivered. "Good idea."

  "Well—no," Jason admitted. "But we can't just leave him."

  "Yes, we can and will. His buddies will be here soon, so let's make sure we aren't here when they show up," Flint suggested. "And watch out for other traps. Look for inconsistent or freshly stirred leaves."

  Jason nodded, relieved that Flint's speech had returned to normal.

  "Oo col fulneck choi!" the man cried, with pleading eyes as the brothers turned to leave.

  "Awww, he wants our help," Flint said, returning to the man. "You want us to get you out?" He crouched at the edge of the pit. "Is that what you want, buddy?" Flint spoke like a boy to a puppy as he extended his hand.

  "Flint!" Jason cried. "What did we just decide?"

  The man nodded vigorously as he reached up,

  "Choi!" Hope gleamed in his eyes.

  Flint snorted and turned away. "Yeah, right, pal. You broke my tablet. I needed that. Let's go, Jason. Before his friends catch up."

  "You're an idiot." Jason scowled. "And a cruel one at that."

  "Let's go."

  The brothers made their way away from the pit. An uncomfortable knot of guilt lodged in Jason's stomach for leaving the man in the trap. However, he also saw the reasoning behind not letting out the wild scavenger who had just tried to kill them. He tried to banish the man's pleading cries from his mind as they hiked away but was only partially successful.

  They moved cautiously now, more aware of the potential threats on Ash. They made slow progress, moving as silently as possible, signing rather than speaking, and scanning the horizon on all sides every few minutes. Occasionally, a shaft of yellow light in the distance and the accompanying thunderous clap kept them jumping. They trudged along, seeking any place they could deem safe so they could rest and devise a plan.

  Flint looked up abruptly once at a squirrel chattering in the trees. He tried pursuing it but it scampered away.

  “That was a squirrel!” Flint declared.

  “And this is a forest,” Jason answered.

  “It’s too quiet here, Jason. That’s the first animal we’ve seen.”

  “Don’t tell me you want to eat it?” Jason asked, recalling the dead rabbits Flint had carried to his house.

  “Are they indigenous to Ash, or did this one migrate through a jump point?” Flint wondered, entirely too eager.

  Jason didn’t answer but pressed on, much more concerned about getting home than understanding this strange world.

  The ground directly under the trees was loose and soft, but if the foliage broke, the soil became hard and cracked. They passed hundreds of small clay mounds, each with four or five tube-like offshoots.

  At one point, Flint pointed at one and signed.

  What are those?

  Jason hadn't had the need to sign much in the last several years, but some things stuck around. He shrugged in response to Flint's inquiry about the mounds.

  Silent as their trek was, Jason's mind droned. The tablet and map were gone. How were they going to find Arthur? More importantly, where would they get this light ice that Flint was sure they would discover here? Apparently, it was their key to going home.

  They passed three more rings of runes burned into the ground, virtually identical to the one they came in. Jason regretted not memorizing landmarks around the one they arrived through. And though he would never admit it, he felt oddly confident Flint could get them back. As annoying as the kid was, he had a natural inclination for wilderness survival,

  Jason, in contrast, knew there were already multiple threats on Ash, and he wasn't equipped to deal with them.

  Jason's brow furrowed as Flint's limp became increasingly exaggerated. It started with him stepping oddly but grew into an unnatural sway with every other step.

  "Flint,” Jason hissed, and Flint looked at him. Jason felt sickened at the ghastly pallor of Flint's pale face.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," Flint muttered sluggishly in contrast to his previous shouting.

  "Flint," Jason said sternly. "We're stopping here."

  "I can't," Flint muttered. We need to find the high ground and locate water."

  Jason shook his head. "You're losing energy, and you're hurt. We need to rest."

  Jason observed the mental debate in Flint's head, hidden behind his tired eyes, but at length, the younger brother resigned to reason, shrugged off his pack, and dropped to the dirt.

  "Stim shots carry consequences," Flint muttered as he pulled himself up to a tree. "They'll burn you to exhaustion. They were meant as a last case contingency, not a primary energy source."

  Jason nodded and took Flint's bag. "You have first-aid?"

  Flint nodded through weary eyes. "I dressed my foot when we first got here. I can't imagine what could possibly…"

  Jason realized with great concern that Flint was growing slightly delirious.

  "I'm going to take a look," Jason said as he untied Flint's shoe. The footwear resisted, then slowly made a wet suction sound as it plopped off.

  Jason held his breath as he looked at the sweaty shoe, blood-soaked sock, and bandage.

  "What? Is it bad?" Flint muttered as he blinked sleepily.

  Jason tried to clean the foot while conserving as much water as he could from Flint's water bottle, but he quickly found the source of the problem.

  A thick, jagged wooden chip lodged in the sole of Flint's foot. Each step must have jarred him horribly. Jason looked at Flint sympathetically as he grabbed the splinter firmly with the pliers in Flint's multi-tool.

  "I'm sorry,” he prefaced himself before he drew the shard out of Flint's foot. He expected his younger brother to scream as he extracted the piece of wood, but Flint only grunted as his body tightened.

  Jason grimaced as he held the blood-slick splinter up for Flint to see.

  "Oh," Flint said. "I missed that? That's why it hurt so much." Flint's eyes began to drift closed.

  "Flint!" Jason said, shaking his brother.

  "Patch it up, okay? And don't sleep. If we both sleep, we'll probably die."

  Jason saw the exhaustion in Flint's tense body.

  "Crashing," Flint said apologetically as he fell unconscious.

  Jason looked around and realized he was now alone—isolated on an unknown planet, watching his unconscious brother. There was no map, little food, and almost no water. He quietly went to bandage Flint's foot, but the weight of his worries had him thinking of home. He had left Jericho agents at home—home with Rachel. Jericho agents weren't known to break the law, but then, they also weren't known to hunt fifteen-year-old boys.

  "Rachel," he muttered. "Hang on."

  He had left this life for a reason; he should have known he couldn't truly escape. Worse, he had inadvertently brought the world of super corporate contracts and mercenaries to his wife. His fists curled into tight balls, and he ground his teeth. If Jericho hurt her, he'd—he'd ...

  He'd what? He wasn't that boy anymore. He had become someone else, a man helpless to protect his wife from a multi-world corporate superpower. He wiped tears of rage from his face he hadn't realized were there. He glared at his brother sleeping peacefully while he held watch unarmed and alone. "Flint, if anything happens to her, I swear—" He sniffled miserably.

  The small white sun dipped behind the horizon, startling Jason as he had woken up in the morning on Earth, not four hours ago.

  Jason sat up, startled, as a ribbon of gold light, similar to the northern lights back home, weaved across the darkening sky. He gaped at the alien phenomenon, temporarily transfixed.

  Flint shivered, and Jason sighed before fishing a metallic emergency blanket from his pack and wrapping it around the sleeping boy. As the temperature dropped, Jason hugged his knees to his chest. His teeth chattered, and he fixed Rachel in his mind.

  "I promise," he whispered, "I'm coming home.”