Author's Note:

This is a continuation of The Runner series. If you haven't read book 1 (The Runner) and book 2 (The Wastelands), check out my profile.

I hope that you enjoy the conclusion to Kay's adventures!

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We defeated the Madam's army, freed our people and destroyed the Irrigator, but to me, it was all for nothing.

I couldn't save him. The person who mattered most.

* * * * *

My heart is in my throat. My legs burn from exertion and my lungs are filled with scratchy pellets of sand, but still I race onwards. I tear across the open expanse of desert, shoving my unruly red hair from my eyes as I run.

The ground below my feet drums with the reverberation of the chase. I glance back over my shoulder, feeling my jaw tighten as I register the sight. The Mech-Enforcers are relentless in their pursuit of me, their lumbering stride driving them easily over the uneven terrain. Unlike me, these robotic warriors will never slow, will never tire. As fast as I am, I have no hope of outrunning them.

Luckily, I'm not counting on that.

I grit my teeth, willing my breath to even and letting my body relax into a long, smooth stride. My sore muscles cry out in protest but I ignore them. Nearly there. I claw my way up the side of a dune, my leather-wrapped hands finding purchase in the shifting sand as I pull myself up and over the top.

Squinting into the sun-filled horizon, I can just make out my target. A dark, jagged scar cuts across the earth, severing the distant desert into two distinct halves. I yank my scarf up over my nose and stoop down low, sliding down the side of the dune at a reckless speed. Sand flies up into the air behind me, spraying into the faces of the Mechs. If they notice the sting they barely react, thundering onwards with their unknowing, unseeing gazes fixated on my every move.

I leap before I reach the bottom of the dune, propelling myself forward and gaining a few precious metres. My bad knee trembles but holds strong, dutifully steadying me as I regain my footing and take off for the chasm.

The landscape plateaus, turning from shifting dunes into hard-packed dirt. I ignore the constriction in my chest as the sound of pounding feet grows louder. They're getting closer. Soon, I'll be within reach. Mentally calculating the distance between the gap and my mechanical pursuers I actively fight against my instincts and force myself to slow. For this plan to work, the Mechs will have to be practically on top of me.

A dark shadow rushes forward as the cliff makes itself known, impossibly wide and deep. With an army of mechanical soldiers behind me and a bottomless gorge ahead, my only option seems to be an ill-fated leap into certain death.

Luckily, I'm not counting on that.

A lone tree grips gamely to the side of the crevasse, its branches stark against the piercing blue sky. I hurtle past it and ready myself for the inevitable.

Moments from the cliff edge and a hair's breadth from a sword's point, I feel my body relax into an almost trance-like state. My heartbeat slows and my breath comes more easily. I plant my foot on the ledge, visualize myself completing an impossible jump, and leap.

There is a light brush of air against my back as the Mechs tumble into the chasm. I keep my arms outstretched, my gaze turned upwards while the earth disappears below me. The moment extends into infinity and I feel myself a part of the sky, weightless, unencumbered and completely, utterly free.

A pair of hands appear above me, long fingers wrapping themselves securely around my wrists and swinging me higher into the blue. I twist mid-air, training my eyes on the scorched, far-reaching branches of the tree and readying myself for impact. The hands holding me give a single, mighty heave and then, I am in the tree. I sit perched high above the earth while the tightly-packed Mechs continually spill over the cliff.

Luca hands over my bow, shooting me a small grin as he smoothly notches his own weapon and fires into the crowd. I follow suit, sighting along the length of my arrow.

A few scattered Mechs have managed to keep their footing near the edge of the chasm but Luca and I finish them off in quick succession. The enemy falls handily, disappearing into low puffs of dirt. I dispatch my final target and sit back, waiting for Luca to finish his work and allowing my muscles to slowly untense.

The string of Luca's bow releases with a tight reverberation. He remains completely still for several seconds after, his sharp eyes fixed on the ground below while he searches for any last traces of movement. It isn't until he lowers his weapon and slumps his shoulders that I finally bring down my guard, at last certain that the danger has passed.

"Good catch." I say, making a show of rubbing my wrists where he gripped me. "I'm glad that I wasn't coming in too fast for you."

"Impossible." He unslings his quiver and leans back against the trunk of the tree. "I will always be faster."

"You're full of it." I roll my eyes.

I swing my legs around the branch and sit forward over my knees. Luca remains silent while we wait for my lingering adrenaline to wear off and my breaths to slow. It has been nearly six months since the fall of Babel's wall and my last hallucination, the visions kept at bay so long as I can steady myself after a high-stress situation. The hot desert breeze and Luca's own, calm presence work their magic and gradually, I feel my old sense of ease returning.

My eyes flutter open as I release my final shaky breath, wiping my sweaty palms on my thighs. "When is your brother expecting us back?"

Luca glances up to the sky, a slight frown pulling at his lips while he concentrates on the sun's position. "Within an hour. We are breaking camp at sundown."

"Then I suppose we had better keep moving." I sigh, lifting my hair to cool the back of my neck.

My friend is slow to reply, never one to be rushed. "We have time. Wait until you are rested, your run was long."

"Thanks." I twist my hair into a knot over my shoulder and tie it securely.

"I think we have proven the effectiveness of this new battle strategy." Luca continues conversationally. "And barely any arrows gone to waste."

I force a small laugh, but my mind is elsewhere. Regardless of how many creative ways we find to defeat the Mechs, their numbers never seem to dwindle. They are being churned out as quickly as we can strike them down and we are still no closer to finding the Madam. An ugly feeling gnaws at the pit of my stomach and I have to turn away from the sight of prone figures littering the ground.

"I told you that this would not get easier." Luca's talent for speaking my thoughts aloud never fails to unsettle me. "Do you ever wish to give it up?"

"You know what it will take for me to stop." I say, darkly. "When she's dead and not a moment sooner."

He doesn't reply. We sit together for several minutes, watching as the sun dips lower into the gorge. Finally, I straighten my spine and prepare to swing down from my perch. We leap nimbly from branch to branch, our hands and feet effortlessly gripping the rough bark until we land in crouched positions on the ground, as silent as the breeze.

Luca chooses to lead us on a convoluted route back towards the camp, which I interpret as him being none-to-eager to rejoin his eldest brother. Jaron will be pleased to hear about our victory over the Babelonian foot patrol but I know that his approval will be short-lived. For Jaron it's always about the next battle, the next fight. The Waster chief is a warlord of the highest calibre, just one of the many reasons why he and Luca find themselves continually at odds.

Eventually, the rocky scenery gives way to great, sloping dunes. We zigzag between the hills, relaxing into a steady stride as we move ever-closer to the camp. Smoke from the recently-extinguished fires lingers above, drawing us into the fold of collapsing tents and hurried Wasters. A familiar, dark head looks up at our approach and the twin of Luca's rarely-seen smile makes an appearance. Noah beams and jogs over to us, slinging an arm across his younger brother's neck.

"Welcome home, miscreants." Noah says cheerfully. "Just late enough that you have avoided helping us break down camp. Well done."

"Timing is just one of our many talents." I quip, glancing about. "Do you know what direction we're headed in?"

"Jaron has received word from the Queen." Noah uses his grip on Luca's shoulders to steer us further into the encampment. "She wishes us to return to the City."

"Already?" I ask, surprised. "We've been away barely a month."

Noah shrugs. "Take it up with Jaron. I know he has been waiting for you."

Luca doesn't bother to stifle a sigh as the three of us trudge forward, outwardly lamenting the fact that Jaron is always eager to return to Meg. We pick our way through the crowd and I marvel at how difficult it is to distinguish the Miners from the Wasters, with everyone clad similarly in sand-coloured tunics and a variety of lethal-looking weapons affixed to their backs. I exchange a nod with a couple of soldiers from the City, stopping to grab what little food is leftover from supper. I toss a paltry bit of salted meat to Luca and we gnaw at the tough gristle while Noah leads us around a dune, the three of us slowing our pace when we draw up next to the Waster chief.

Jaron is deep in conversation with Cade, the Wasters' resident medical man and former chieftain. Both men are wearing tense expressions though Cade makes an effort to appear at ease, clapping a hand down on Jaron's shoulder and smiling widely at our approach.

"Kay, Luca." Cade greets us. "Should we take your presence as indication that you return victorious as ever?"

My lingering hunger and a biting thirst have put me in no mood to tolerate pretences. "What were you two discussing?"

The friendly grin alighting Cade's lined face wavers as he glances towards the Waster Chief. Jaron crosses his burly arms in front of his chest, releasing a guttural sigh.

"We have been summoned back to the City so it is of little matter, but our scouts have uncovered an outpost." Jaron speaks matter-of-factly.

I perk up. "An outpost? One of theirs?" The Madam is notoriously clever at disguising her bases. In the past months we have uncovered a small handful of her troops' hideouts in various corners of the desert, each one abandoned and cleared of anything useful.

Even so, there is always a possibility...

"We believe so." Jaron continues. He casts a suspicious glare between myself and Luca. "I have ordered a couple of the scouts to remain behind. If there is anyone to be found, then we will learn of it upon our return."

"We should see it for ourselves, now." Luca says.

Jaron remains stone faced. "It lies nearly two day's journey away from our path. The Queen has ordered us to come directly; the outpost will still be there after our business is complete."

I place a hand on Luca's arm, halting his retort. "Jaron's right. Let's gather our things, the sooner we leave, the sooner we get back."

Luca's mouth draws into a tight line but he obediently spins on his heel, striding off to his tent. I follow suit, tossing my few scattered possessions into a rucksack and slinging the load across my shoulders. We douse the last of the fires, brushing sand over the ashy remnants. As we put the campsite to our backs I glance once over my shoulder, satisfied with the skill we Wasters display in disguising our tracks. The Madam isn't the only ghost haunting this desert.

We make good time heading back to the City, the journey lasting just under a week. The warriors are in good spirits as we relax between hikes, laughing and sparring while our fires burn and the smell of roasted game floats above our bedrolls. I fall into the easy sense of camaraderie, pushing my curiosity about the Babelonian outpost to the back of my mind. If there is anything that I have learned from the past, it is the importance of patience.

On the final day of our crossing I find myself drawing away from the group, increasing my speed and pulling several kilometres ahead. The sand bites my skin and coats my hair but I have never felt more clean. I shut my eyes as I propel myself forward, imagining the ground as the City's expansive roofs, forever guiding me towards an impossible height. After a time I grow aware of a pair of feet running in tune with mine and slow my pace, waiting for Luca to draw up alongside.

We run silently, falling into our usual rhythm with our strides and inhales matched beat for beat. The outline of a dune crosses the landscape before us, bright against the blue beyond. We tear up the side of it, grains of sand slipping between our fingers as we crawl towards the sky. Finally, just when I feel as though my heart will burst from exertion we reach the peak, slowing to a stop and standing to look out at the sight below.

The City unfolds before me, the doors of the great, stone Wall thrown open in welcome. From my vantage point I can make out the maze of rooftops, twisting and turning up a hill towards the glass Palace. Colourful rays of dying sun strike the Palace's famous spire on all sides, refracting a prism of light over the whitewashed buildings. I feel a small smile tug at my lips and a slight weight lift from my shoulders as I take in the familiar view.

"Do you miss it?" Luca's voice is soft but carries in the gusting wind.

I nod. "Sometimes."

"You could go back. The Queen would welcome you with open arms."

"I never had much of a head for politics." I smirk. "My skills are better suited to the battlefield. Besides," I lean to the side, planting my feet in a wide stance in preparation for the descent. "I think you'd agree that it's impossible to live behind a wall once you've seen how large the world is."

Luca's eyes crinkle at the corners. "We've barely scraped a corner of this world."

"We'll explore it all once we've won the war." I slip a little down the side of the dune and raise my eyebrow in challenge. "So, do you still think that you're faster than me?"

"I know that I am." Luca places a hand on my shoulder, shoving me backwards and taking off down the dune's sloped surface. I shout a protest as I regain my balance, laughing and surfing after him at a breakneck pace. Golden arches of sand fly in our wake, trailing us while we race towards the stone wall of Meg's keep. I have to concentrate in order to keep my balance and catch up to Luca, the exercise pulling my thoughts away from that strange, festering place within my mind.

Running helps me to forget. Forget the mysterious outpost, the Madam's ever-growing army of Mechs and the sight of Will's body collapsing beneath the lethal syringe.

I duck lower, increasing my speed and fairly flying across the City's borders. White stone buildings arc over my head, drawing me into the depths of the former Commons, into the narrow alleys shadowed by crumbled walls ripe for climbing.

I'm back.

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Chapter illustration by Tvonn9 on Deviantart