Chapter 4: Expedition 67

Gio ran.

His legs moved before his mind could catch up, carrying him through the dark streets straight towards the station. His lungs burned, his vision blurred with tears and sweat, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. The image of the man’s blood pooling on the alley floor was seared into his skull, but worse than that was the voice, the trembling words of the survivor.

The boss’s cousin. You killed the boss’s cousin.

"Shit!"

He burst through the station doors, gasping for air. The officers inside looked up in alarm. Captain Balsack was at his desk, a cup of cold coffee in one hand and a stack of reports in the other. When he saw Gio’s face pale, streaked with blood and tears, he shot to his feet.

"Gio? What the hell happened to you?"

Gio tried to speak, but the words came out in broken, ragged pieces. The alley. The gang members. The bottle. The knife. The body. The boss’s cousin. He confessed everything, his voice shaking so badly he could barely form sentences.

Balsack’s expression shifted from concern to horror, then to something colder. His jaw tightened. His knuckles went white around the edge of his desk."how long ago was this!? How long, Gio!?"

"I... I think 2 hours?"

"Shit," he whispered. Then louder, his voice cracking with urgency: "Shit! Everyone, with me! NOW!"

The station erupted into chaos. Officers grabbed their gear and rushed for the doors. Within moments, three squad cars were tearing through the streets, sirens wailing and lights flashing against the crumbling buildings.

Gio sat in the back of the lead car, his hands cuffed to the door handle, his heart pounding in his chest. It wasn’t until they turned onto the familiar street that he realized where they were going.

The orphanage.

"No," he breathed. "No, no, no..."

But it was already too late.

The sky above the orphanage glowed a sickening orange. Smoke billowed into the night, thick and black, lit from below by the hungry glow of flames. The building was already engulfed, fire pouring from the windows and licking up the walls like living things.

The squad cars screeched to a halt. Gio threw himself against the door.

"SISTER FALL! GRANNY TUSHE! THE KIDS!" he screamed.

Before the car had fully stopped, he was out, running. Officers shouted after him, hands grabbing at his arms, his shirt, his hair. But he tore free. He was faster than them, fueled by pure, blinding terror.

The heat hit him like a wall as he crossed the threshold. The inside of the orphanage was a nightmare of flames and smoke and crumbling wood. The hot air burned his throat and cooked his skin. He couldn’t see. He could barely breathe. But he kept moving, throwing himself deeper into the inferno.

"WHERE ARE YOU!?" he screamed, his voice raw and cracking. "SISTER FALL! KIDS!"

A faint cry answered him from the bedding area. He stumbled toward it, shielding his face from the heat, the smoke burning his eyes. And then he saw them.

The children were huddled in the corner, coughing and sobbing, their small bodies pressed together in terror. And in front of them, standing like a broken shield, was Sister Fall.

Her body was burned. Her cloth was scorched and melted in places, and a jagged piece of metal debris had pierced through her shoulder, pinning her to the wall. Blood ran down her arm. But her eyes, those beautiful, gentle eyes found Gio the moment he entered.

"Gio..." she whispered, her voice barely audible above the roar of the flames. "Take them. Please. Take them out."

"I can’t leave you..."

"Take them!" she insisted, her voice breaking with the effort. "Please. They’re just children. Save them."

Gio’s vision blurred with tears. He wanted to argue. He wanted to tear the debris from her shoulder and carry her out himself. But the ceiling was groaning, the flames were closing in, and the children were screaming.

He made a choice.

"Come with me!" he shouted to the kids, grabbing the smallest one and hoisting them onto his back. "Hold onto each other! Don’t let go!"

They moved as one, a terrified chain of small hands and tiny bodies. Gio led them through the smoke, his lungs screaming, his skin blistering from the heat. The door was so far away. The fire was so loud.

But then, cold air. Night sky. Arms reaching out to pull them free.

He stumbled outside, collapsing to his knees as officers rushed to take the children from him. They were safe. They were out.

But Sister Fall was still inside.

Gio turned. The building groaned, a deep, terrible sound that seemed to shake the ground beneath him. The walls swayed. The roof sagged.

"No!" he screamed, lunging toward the door. "NO! SISTER FALL!"

The building collapsed.

It came down in a roar of broken woods and violent flames, swallowing itself in a cascade of embers and ash. Gio felt hands on him again, dragging him back, pinning him to the ground. He fought against them. Sreamed. clawed at the dirt. But they didn’t let him go, they continued holding him down.

"SHE’S STILL IN THERE! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"

But Captain Balsack was on top of him, forcing him down with all his weight. "STOP! GIO, STOP! IT’S TOO LATE!"

Gio cried and wailed. It was a sound so animalistic and broken, torn from the deepest part of him. The fire raged on, devouring everything and all he could do was lie there in the dirt and scream until his voice gave out.

---

Morning came slowly, the smoke from the ruined orphanage still drifting into the pale sky.

The children were safe. They had been treated by medics and given blankets, their small faces smudged with soot as they slept huddled together in the back of a squad car. Gio had not slept. He had spent the night helping the officers move debris, piece by charred piece, searching. Hoping.

They found Granny Tushe first. Her body was curled beneath a collapsed beam. The medics said she had died from the smoke inhalation before the flames reached her. A small mercy.

They found Sister Fall hours later. She was still in the bedding area, still standing, her body now little more than a silhouette of ash and bone. The debris that had pierced her shoulder had kept her upright, even in death. Gio stared at her for a long time, his face empty, his hands hanging limp at his sides.

He didn’t cry. Not then. It seemed like he had already emptied out his tears.

---

Caleb arrived later that week.

Gio was standing outside the district’s cremation centre, watching the smoke rise from the chimneys. The funeral had been small, just the children, a few neighbors, Captain Balsack, and a handful of officers who had known the orphanage well. In the sealed sector cities, the dead were always cremated. Space was too precious to waste on graves.

The children were quiet. They held hands and stared at the ground, their eyes red and hollow. They had lost everything. Again.

Gio heard the footsteps before he saw the fist.

The punch came hard and fast, catching him square in the jaw and sending him sprawling to the ground. He tasted blood. He didn’t bother to fight back. He just looked up.

Caleb stood over him, his chest heaving, his eyes wet with tears and fury.

"This is your fault," Caleb said, his voice shaking. "Everything. This whole thing. It’s because of you."

Gio didn’t argue. He couldn’t. Because it was true.

Caleb lunged again, but Captain Balsack stepped between them. "Enough. Not here. Not in front of the kids."

Caleb stopped, his fists still clenched, his jaw tight. He looked at the children, the little ones who had just lost the only home they had ever known. The anger in his face wavered. His shoulders sagged.

He turned to Gio. "I’m taking them. To a better district. Where I work. They’ll be safe there."

Gio nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Don’t you dare pretend to care about them. You did this. You brought this on them. And I hope..." Caleb’s voice cracked. "I hope you burn in hell for it."

He turned away, gathering the children with gentle words and soft gestures. They followed him without protest, too tired and too broken to do anything else.

As they walked away, the little girl with the messy pigtails looked back. Her eyes met Gio’s, wide and tearful. He forced a smile, lifting one hand in a small wave.

It’s okay, he mouthed. Go on. It’s alright.

She hesitated, then turned and kept walking.

Gio watched until they disappeared around the corner. Then he stood there for a long, long time, alone in the grey afternoon light.

---

That night, Gio went for revenge.

He moved through the darkness like a ghost, his footsteps silent on the cracked pavement. The petrol sloshed in the container at his side, stolen from one of the police squad cars while the officers were changing shifts.

The gang’s hideout was an old warehouse near the district’s edge, a hulking silhouette against the faint glow of the city lights. Gio circled it slowly, methodically, pouring the petrol in a wide ring around its base. When the container was empty, he pulled out a matchbox and struck a single match.

He dropped it.

The fire roared to life, racing around the building in a blazing ring. Within moments, the warehouse was engulfed, flames climbing up the walls and smoke billowing into the night sky.

Gio retreated into the shadows of a nearby alley and waited.

The gangsters came stumbling out, coughing and cursing, their eyes wide with panic. Gio watched them from the darkness, his heart pounding in his chest. He was looking for one face in particular. The boss.

And then he saw him, a hulking man with a shaved head and a scar across his cheek, barking orders at his men as they fled the burning building. He was the last one out, and he was alone.

Gio lunged.

The dagger was in his hand before he knew it, a stolen blade from the station’s evidence locker. He drove it into the boss’s chest, feeling the resistance of flesh and bone, the hot gush of blood over his fingers.

But the man didn’t fall. He was too big, too strong. With a roar of pain and fury, he grabbed Gio and flung him across the alley like a ragdoll.

Gio hit the ground hard, the world spinning around him. He scrambled to his feet, his mind racing. The element of surprise was gone. The rest of the gang was already turning, already shouting, already reaching for their weapons.

He ran and they chased him.

Through alleys and side streets, over fences and dumpsters, Gio fled with the pack of gangsters snarling at his heels. His lungs burned. His legs screamed. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

And then he saw it.

An armored truck idling at the edge of the district, its sides emblazoned with a familiar logo: EXPEDITION 67: RECLAIM THE EARTH. Soldiers in heavy gear stood around it, checking equipment and speaking in low voices.

Gio didn’t think. He just ran.

"I VOLUNTEER!" he screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. "I VOLUNTEER FOR THE EXPEDITION!"

The soldiers turned, stunned, as this blood-soaked teenager came sprinting toward them out of the darkness.

Gio threw himself into the back of the truck, landing hard on the metal floor. The soldiers reached for him, but their attention quickly shifted to the mob of gangsters approaching fast.

"Halt!" one of the soldiers barked, leveling a sleek, sci-fi-looking plasma rifle at the gangsters. "Back off! This vehicle is under military jurisdiction!"

The gangsters hesitated, their eyes widening at the glowing blue coils of the rifles. The boss, clutching his bleeding chest, snarled in frustration. But he knew better than to fight armed soldiers.

"Fall back!" he spat.

They scattered into the night like cockroaches.

Gio lay in the back of the truck, gasping for air, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. For a moment, he almost laughed. It was over. He was safe.

He started to sit up, intending to climb out and thank the soldiers for the help.

A heavy hand pressed down on his chest, pushing him back onto the cold metal floor.

"Easy there, kid," a gruff voice said. The soldier’s face was hidden behind a reflective visor. "You don’t get it. Once you’re in, you don’t get out."

The doors of the truck slammed shut with a hollow, metallic sound.

"Welcome to Expedition 67."