“So what’s your plan?” Erik asked Rebecca, as they sat waiting for the mob of thrall to surround them.

“First step is to not die.” Rebecca said.

“Honestly… and I always try to be honest,” Erik promised. “I’m good with dying. I’ve lived long enough. You wanna stab me and run, do it.”

“Liar!” Rebecca shouted. It was a whisper but emotional, triggered by memories.

“If you wanted to die so much then you wouldn’t have saved me.”

Erik had a problem with her statement, a huge problem. He had set himself on a path to suicide years ago, after they died.

“You can’t say their names?”

“Shut up,” Erik snapped.

“What?” Rebecca growled.

Erik presses his lips together, biting down upon his remaining teeth till they hurt then says, “never mind my crazy. I have an aggressive self conscious.”

“You hear voices?”

“Yes, my own voice.” He then changes the subject. “There is a mob of thrall, probably Collectors, out there. There are three coming toward us, alerted. I didn’t think this through. I don’t know where to go.” He admitted.

A smile grew upon Rebecca’s dirt streaked face. Unkept brown hair clung in strands, matted to her face due to neglect. Her smile ignited a past warmth within green and amber flecked eyes.

It then disappeared, lost for the time being.

“Station 5”, she said and pointed through the sea of swaying monsters. “A quarter of a mile in that direction is a Network station. A safe place for us.”

“I see,” Erik said impressed. “We just need to get there then?