The ride was brutal. The van bounced and jolted, crashing through saplings and sliding down embankments. Lucas fought the wheel, his arms burning with the effort. He felt a strange sense of calm. This was just a video game with high physics and no respawn.
"Left bank!" Jax shouted from the passenger seat.
Lucas yanked the wheel. The van slid sideways, mud flying up onto the windows, but the tires gripped the gravel of the river bed.
They were driving in the shadow of the canyon walls, hidden from the main road.
"You're doing good, kid," Jax said, watching the trees flash by. "You have a feel for it."
"My dad says I have no discipline," Lucas gritted out, swerving to avoid a boulder.
"Discipline is for soldiers," Jax said. "You're a survivor now. Survivors adapt. They don't follow rules; they break them to stay alive."
"What were you in for?" Lucas asked, eyes on the path.
"Assault," Jax said. "I beat a man half to death for hurting my sister."
"Would you do it again?"
Jax looked at the boy. "In a heartbeat. The world has monsters, Lucas. Some of them look like us. Some of them used to be us. The only difference is, I know what I did was wrong. They?" He pointed back toward the main road. "They think they're doing exactly what they're supposed to do."
Suddenly, the van shuddered. A loud HISS filled the air.
"Stop," Thomas said, popping his head down from the sunroof. "We've got a flat."
Lucas hit the brakes. The van coasted to a halt in the middle of the dry riverbed.
"Change it," Thomas ordered. "Two minutes. Jengo, cover the rear. Kofi, watch the ridge."
They scrambled out. The jungle pressed in on them, invisible and watching.
Lucas and Thomas worked together to jack up the van. For a moment, it was just the two of them, grunting with exertion, passing the heavy lug wrench.
"You drove well," Thomas said, not looking at Lucas.
"I learned from the best," Lucas muttered. "You always said to maintain momentum."
Thomas paused, his hand on the wrench. He looked at his son—really looked at him. He saw the dirt on his face, the desperation in his eyes, but also the strength.
"I was too hard on you," Thomas said, his voice low. "About the swimming. About... everything."
Lucas stopped tightening the lug nut. "Don't, Dad. Don't do the deathbed apology thing. We're not dead yet."
Thomas nodded. A small, grim smile touched his lips. "Roger that. Pass me the spare."