“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“The Terminus is a quagmire of temporal pockets and eddies.” Clara said. “I’d argue one… one… all tailor made for me.”

All the different choices she might have made and the repercussions that came with it. Even Julia commented that she detected my scent in three other pockets.

“What do you mean?” Amelia asked.

Clara had to be careful here, since this was little more than a conjecture. It could be attributed to the fact that I was the one in transit during the attack.

“Julia reflected that she could not interact with the pockets,” Clara said. “Most were set before she was born, and she could not snap into that reality.”

“Do you suppose our volunteers—(had the same problem?)”

“Most certainly,” Clara said.

“How did she end up here?”

“She followed my trail.”

That logical loop forced Amelia to take a pause. The hunter cocked her head and furrowed her brow. Clara smiled, waiting for Amelia to reason it out before interrupting.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“The Terminus is a quagmire of temporal pockets and eddies.” Clara said. “I’d argue one… one… all tailor made for me.”

“I died out there,” Clara said without a hint of humour. “Arguably more than once.”

“People die here too,” Amelia confessed.

“So I’ve observed,” Clara said. “To be honest, we are not sure if we can find our way back.”

“How… How did you end up here?”

“Julia.”

By now they were in one of the more remote areas of the space. Most were congregating closer to the entrance, as though ready to exercise the better part of valour.

“How did she end up here?”

“She followed my trail.”

The hunter cocked her head but remained silent. Clara hoped that Amelia would provide some insight by either confirming or denying that statement. Instead, we are back to playing games.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Clara said. “What do you want me to do?”

“We want a way back to the world.”

“It’s no picnic out there. I’d say humanity is worse off than it was during the Roaring Twenties.”

“Better to be free than forever trapped in a cage.”

“I died out there,” Clara said without a hint of humour. “Arguably more than once.”

Clara figured that Julia was bored of their shop talk. Besides, lethargy could trigger unexpected behaviours at a critical time.

“You didn’t come up with that so we could chat privately?”

“Julia knows my darkest secrets, many of which would make you turn pale,” Clara said. “We were always free to speak openly.”

“It’s not—(our way.)”

“Your way…” Clara said at the same time. “I’m fully aware and we might have wasted the evening getting nowhere.”

“True,” Amelia said. “We are products of our upbringing.”

“Fed lies and half-truths to ensure compliance…”

The sound of gunfire was interspersed with giggles and laughs as Julia and Agnes tore up anything they came across. Clara smiled, wondering if this was the kind of therapy the werewolf needed. Senseless destruction with no repercussions.

“Thank you,” Amelia said.

“For?” Clara asked.

“That—That’s fucking badass,” Julia said. “Can—(I try)?”

“Of course,” Clara said before tossing the weapon to Julia. “Agnes, would you mind assisting?”

“Of course, Sister,” Agnes replied.

Julia smiled upon seeing Clara’s jaw bulge for a fraction of a second.

“Do you mind if Amelia and I walk on for a bit?”

“Yeah,” Julia replied. “Not too far?”

“Agreed.”

“Let’s fuck some shit up!” Julia said.

Agnes was too disciplined to add anything, but that smile said plenty.

Clara trained the barrel on an assortment of furniture and unloaded the full drum. By the end of it the group was left deafened, facing furniture littered with bullet holes.

“Five… four… three… two…”

On the call of one the furniture began to repair itself. Bullets popped out of the frame and stuffing, as the material healed itself. Right before their eyes everything returned to its original state.

“That—That’s fucking badass,” Julia said. “Can—(I try)?”

“What the fuck?” Julia said.

Those eyes did not shrink, either from the initial scare or the fact that bullets bounced off Clara… Good thing she has a strong heart.

“We use these for training,” Clara said after grabbing the submachine gun with the loud rattling drum. “Watch.”

Clara trained the barrel on an assortment of furniture and unloaded the full drum. By the end of it the group was left deafened, facing furniture littered with bullet holes.