Little shimmering waves glinted in the dips and rivets in the ground, the heat pounding down like a hammer on Bo's head. She pulled off her bandanna and wrapped it over her head, tying it securely at the base of her skull. Her hair spilled out the back, keeping her neck cool and brushing against her bare arms. The dust kicked up as she walked around the camp, making sure everything was in order. Women looked up and smiled, and children stood at a distance, watching her with awed eyes. The men dipped their heads in respectful greeting. They were all friends that she had known since she was little. Father had banded them together before she was even born, at the start of the war, keeping them alive when there was no hope of living. Now they all expected that same lifestyle to go on, a small sort of peace and safety under her father's care. If only old age was something that could be avoided.

Her rounds were spent checking on equipment and supplies, and inspecting the wall. The heat of the day faded to be replaced by the chill of late evening. Already it was beyond dinner time and she hadn't even noticed. She ran a hand over her eyes, but there was still one more section of wall to check before she would let herself rest.

She went to the main gate which would soon be guarded by two men of the settlement during the dark hours. When the sun dipped behind the horizon, the guards would be stationed and the floodlights switched on. Anything within a hundred yards outside of the main gate would be saturated in white light and covered by the sights on the two men's power rifles. There was no such thing as being too careful in the Blast Zone.

Bo paused by the gate, checking the rusty platform that the guards always stood on. It rose to around chest height, and was only a few feet below the edge of the wall. Ramshackle like the rest of the junk in the settlement. She fought the urge to kick it.

Her gaze strayed to the spot where the hoppers, their two-wheeled vehicles, were parked under the platform and locked onto heavy chains rooted deep into the ground. The only keys were kept by her, Aston, and her dad, effectively limiting all transportation to only those people they gave permission to. It wasn't a particularly fair system, but it made sure they didn't burn through their limited gas too fast.

One space was empty in between the vehicles. Already little drifts of dust gathered in the long absence of the hopper that belonged there. Bo shuffled her feet around to sweep out the dust and reveal the cement below. The chain that should go around the handlebars lay forlorn on the ground, and Bo thought of her father. Old, his hair now graying, with lines around his eyes and mouth. He shouldn't have been alone on the scavenging mission, but she couldn't spare anyone to go with him. And he would fight her hard if she ever mentioned staying in the camp full-term to him. 

What was taking him so long in getting back? Nervous energy rippled in her arms, and she turned, stalking to the gate. The men on guard duty were just showing up, coming to check over their equipment as the sun slowly set, but she brushed by them without a word. She knew they stared at her as she pulled open the gate and slid out. Their footsteps rushed up the creaking platform to see what she was doing.

Unzipping a pocket in her crimson jacket, she pulled out a small flashlight, clicking the button on the back and activating the cell within. It hummed with energy, spilling light onto the darkening path ahead of her and illuminating the tips of her scuffed brown boots. She walked the path until she came to the start of the Dead Wood, and stopped there. The trees rose like cement buildings out of the dust. No leaves. Only branches and fossilized trunks, coated in more dust. The ever-present tinge of orange.

Through the woods was the way to the abandoned houses from the pre-war times, where the camp had been looting for countless years. Dad was somewhere out there. She could fool herself, if she tried, into thinking he might be right over the small ridge. He could be resting behind those trees, waiting until the cool of evening to come back in. But she knew it wasn't true. He would have picked up his radio if that was the case.

Doubts crept up on her like the night, and she shone the light into the cluster of trees. Maybe he had gone looking for a rose. He knew what the flower meant to her in a strange sort of abstract way. It was a symbol of something she thought she could never have— her life normal and untouched by the war. And her dad always did his best to give his daughters whatever they wanted. Felicia could be right. It could have been her own fault that he was missing. The doubts turned solid, lodging themselves in her mind, hardening into a nagging feeling of responsibility that ate away at her peace.

Turning on her heel, she made her way back to the camp, knocking on the gate until someone came to pull it back and let her in. She went straight to her tent, wafting by Felicia without a glance. Grabbing a few rations, assorted supplies, and a canteen of water, she stuffed them into a backpack. 

The pair of pistols that Dad had given to her on her thirteenth birthday lay on the top of her box of belongings. They had been one of those things he had brought back from a salvage trip, hoping to make his daughters happy. She paused for a moment, but then scooped them up and buckled the holsters to her hip and around her legs. The handguns felt heavy, but it was a comforting burden. Protection.

She turned to Felicia, who watched her with wide eyes.

"Where are you going?" Felicia asked.

"To find Dad," Bo said.

Felicia held out a hand to stop Bo from walking out of the tent. "You can't just leave us like this. What are we supposed to do?"

"Aston will be in charge."

"What happens if you don't come back?"

"Why wouldn't I come back?"

Felicia laughed, but it had an edge to it. "You seriously don't remember what they always told us about the Dead Wood?" She paused, and Bo realized for the first time that Felicia was actually scared of the rumors that had circulated in their camp since they were small. "The Beast of Lyx."

Bo sighed. "We won the war, Felicia. They all left the planet long ago, and they haven't come back."

Felicia shook her head. "It never left with the others. That's what they say. It was so vicious and wild that even its own people didn't want it. They left it behind and now it lives in the Dead Wood and tears apart anything that is stupid enough to wander into its lair."

"Those are idiotic rumors," Bo said. "The Beast of Lyx was a war criminal, true. But all of them left the planet. The Terra Preservation troops wouldn't have left one alive. Most likely the adults wanted to keep us out of the woods, and told us those stories to scare us."

Felicia didn't look convinced, but Bo couldn't spend any longer on the subject. Every second she wasted here was another second her dad could be in trouble.

"I'll be back in a few days. Just do what Aston says and try not to worry the others," she said, patting Felicia's arm before walking out into the night air and heading for the hoppers. Felicia stayed at the door of the tent, her shirt flapping in the wind as she stared after Bo.

The flashlight beam in Bo's hand skidded across the ground and landed on the vehicles, parked and quiet. Aston was standing next to them, his arms crossed over his formidable chest and his eyes dark with stubbornness. Bo sighed loudly, stopping a few feet from him.

"Why are my guards telling me that you're acting strange? Looking into the Dead Wood?" he asked. 

"Move. I want my hopper."

"You're going out there for an old man who was stupid enough to get lost?" he said, his voice as hard as the muscles in his arms.

"Don't talk about my dad that way, Aston. What do you want me to do?"

"Leave him. He had a radio. He could have called if he was alive. You know he's going crazy, so why go searching for him? We need to concentrate on getting everyone ready for enlistment."

Bo's eyes widened and she looked around swiftly to check who was listening. "Keep your voice down. There's been no decision on whether we're joining the militia, so don't go spitting it out like it's done deal. People will panic if we don't handle it in the right way."

"They'll have to know eventually, and you gallivanting off into the woods to search for a senile old man is not going to help with that."

"When your parents were killed, who found you and took you in? Dad already had two mouths to feed, and he still raised you like you were his. If you keep talking like that about him, I'll knock your head so hard that you'll wish you'd kept your mouth shut. And don't think I won't." She jammed her finger in his face, but he just stared back at her, locked once again in that battle of wills that seemed to be getting increasingly frequent these days.

The anger began to die a little in her stomach, replaced by the old worry for her father. She shook her head and pulled away from Aston's gaze. "I'll be back in three days. We can deal with the question of the militia then," she said, knocking into his shoulder as she brushed past him.

"Whatever you want, Bo." It wasn't an agreement. She heard the bitterness in his tone, but she didn't have time to deal with it just then.

She straddled the seat of the hopper, kicking up the stand and turning on the engine. Goggles and bandanna back on, she flicked a quick thumbs up at Aston, and twisted the handle to speed forward while the guards opened the gate for her. 

She whizzed by Afton, seeing his anger even when his face was a blur, and then she was out of the camp. The gate shut behind her, and she sped for the forest. As her headlights lit up the trees with a ghostly glow, Bo couldn't help but feel a shiver go down her spine as she thought of the horror stories of the Beast of Lyx lurking in the shadows with wolf-like teeth dripping in blood. She wanted to be brave, but Bo knew there were things out there that really did demand fear.