Foreverland Is Dead

other side of the garden, near the brick house. The windows are all covered with metal shutters, like a fortress under siege.
    Cyn doesn’t ask. Barefoot, she walks outside. Her gait is slow and methodical.

    “Glad you’re back.” Jen stands in the garden. “I didn’t want to wake you…”
    Cyn doesn’t answer. Eyes ahead.
    Roc stacks wood on the growing fire at the fence line. There are smoldering branches on the porch. She squats down, rubbing her hands.
    Cyn stops several feet behind her. Adrenaline numbs the pain, lubricates her joints, pumps into her arms and back.
    Roc feels someone watching, turns around. “Believe this? Bitch is hiding in a bomb shelter. I’m going to smoke her ass out.”
    She returns to rubbing her hands.
    “Nice shoes,” she adds.
    “Give me your key.”
    Roc pretends not to hear. She looks over her shoulder, eyeing Cyn’s stance. The calm expression.
    “You find a bunch of bravo berries on your vision quest?”
    “The key.” Cyn holds out her hand.
    “Not happening.” Roc laughs, shaking her head. Her hand moves to a branch.
    “Last chance.” Cyn removes her sweater, wraps it around her forearm. “The key, Roc. And it goes easy.”
    Roc stands, thick branch in hand, the opposite end glowing embers. “You’re about to make the mistake of a very short life.”
    “Come on,” Jen says. “Don’t do this. It’s hard enough out here.”
    “Back up.” Cyn points to where Kat and Mad are watching near the edge of the garden. “This is going to happen quickly.”
    “I’m going to set you on fire.” Roc circles around, getting her back away from the fence. “Throw you on the porch and burn the little piggy’s house down. You won’t go to waste, Cyn. You’ll smoke out the little princess, then I’ll have fun with her. Take my time.”
    She grips the branch like a smoking club.
    “I’m tired of playing nice,” she says. “We’re in the bush where the alpha dog eats.”
    Cyn watches her eyes, keeping her peripheral vision on the branch, and adjusts her stance as Roc circles. She stays loose, hands open.
    Fingers twitching.
    “You ready?” Roc fakes a swing.
    Cyn remains relaxed.
    Roc smiles, laughs. Her grip strengthens, forearms tense. She stops walking sideways, pauses for a moment.
    Reaches back for the big swing—
    Cyn shoots.
    She doesn’t feel the bite in her heels when she launches her shoulder into Roc’s midsection. The branch comes down on the back of her thigh, but the collision with the ground knocks it out of Roc’s hand.
    Cyn throws her leg over Roc, mounting her, keeping her head buried against her collarbone. Roc curses, throwing weak punches into the side of her head. Cyn reaches up without exposing her face, interfering with the strikes while she hooks her heels around Roc’s legs.
    Pain is irrelevant.
    She’s patient, tightening her grip each time Roc bucks. Every twist allows Cyn to gain more control, immobilizing Roc with a full-body clench. She doesn’t know how she’s doing it. Maybe it’s the memories. Maybe, out there in the gray, something downloaded into her psyche.
    This is who I am.
    Roc growls. Tries to pull her hair. Her strength drains quickly. She throws glancing blows off Cyn’s shoulders with no leverage, no power. Cyn remains clenched.
    Waiting.
    Roc goes limp, struggling to catch her breath. Resignation sinks in. She’s helpless, back to the ground.
    Now she strikes.
    It’s quick and surgical. She pops up just enough to bring her elbow into the side of Roc’s head before hunching over again to ride out Roc’s short burst of fury. Once exhausted, Cyn lands another elbow, this one slicing from the left, gashing open her scalp.
    Blood drains into her ear.
    Confusion glazes her eyes. Concussion symptoms already in effect. Two more elbows and Cyn sits up, heels hooked.
    Blood is smeared across Roc’s forehead, pooling around her eye. Cyn’s knuckles crack against her jaw. Another hook from the left. Roc’s head limply rotates, blood streaming from a hole in her lower lip.
    “Stop!” Jen shouts. “That’s enough!”
    Cyn sits upright, all of her weight bearing down. She’s hardly winded. Roc gasps for air, head rolling back and forth, a distant gaze, no focus.
    Jen pulls at her, cheeks glistening with tears. “You’re going to kill her.”
    “Get back.”
    Roc shakes her head, spittle building at the corners of her mouth, struggling to breathe.
    Cyn gets up. The burn on the backs of her legs throbs