Despite Leon's interest in them, they were both let out of the bunker and given permission to return, the child to his mom, and Reed back to his home. Reed recalled how the boy’s mother didn’t even seem to register her son having left her sight, her jaw was simply shaking as she lay on the ground in the bunker, her eyes at some point after the fight having rolled back. Through her trembling jaw, she kept mumbling that a creature, a nasty, disgusting creature, was coming for her and for what she had done. Reed felt angry. This woman had simply abandoned her son. Yes, the child had been the bravest of them all, but his mother should have been with him despite his actions.

  Waiting for some kind of change in his day-to-day life, Reed continued as he had before. The iron-hearted and, from what Reed gathered, military man Leon seemed to want something from him. But he couldn't wait in his house forever. Putting on his work boots, a pair that went nearly to his knees, he zipped up his jumpsuit and got into his car. The car had once been his prized possession, and still was, but now it was seen by many as a hindrance, a relic of a time gone by. Starting it up, the roll of the engine and the familiar vibration felt comforting to him.

  After the car had warmed up, he slipped it into first gear, rolling down his driveway. Micro-class powered cars filled his vision. The cars weaved easily around each other, no car jerked from poorly switched gears or suffered from badly designed engines. No, these cars drove smoothly, all of them using very similar technology, a tiny life-engine. You could never be too careful when it came to a life-engine.

  They were powered by a new fuel source, a weak one. Human-sundered blood would have still been too powerful. No, this fuel came from other means, a disgusting experiment they had done. Thinking of these things gave him an awful feeling. His own car had drawbacks, of course, its fuel was becoming more and more rare. He had to stock and carry it in his trunk, as there were no fueling stations anymore, only large tankers you could buy from. These tankers were meant for old-world technology not yet converted, but Reed had modified his engine to run on this fuel.

  Finally arriving at his location, he stepped out of the car. The sun shone down, and the old metal bones scattered across the yard reflected the light. Rows and rows of pipes, tubing, and everything else that came with it stretched out before him. It seemed every car had a puddle that accompanied it, the smell of oil so strong you couldn’t escape it.

  The yard didn’t just hold rust. An off-white door with an ornate handle lay to his left, and to his right, his prized piece of junk, the front body of an old warplane. Its engine machinery was still intact, eight evenly spaced pistons all powering a single arm in the center. This place felt truly peaceful to Reed. He could never accomplish his father's goal of becoming a professional mechanic, but he watched over their graves. His father's wasn’t far from here.

  The rest of the day had been mundane. He owned the yard, but there were still tasks to complete. He was given lists of parts different companies wanted, amounts of metals others requested, and a backlog of machines that needed destroying. Alongside this, he had his own personal machines that he fixed simply for fun. Completing his work always felt rewarding. The final piece of the puzzle was putting the chain on the fence and closing up.

  But before peace could come to him, he noticed the car parked outside the yard. It wasn’t a car, at least not in the new sense. Those things might have been smooth rides, cheaply fueled, but their emissions were disgusting. Many called them Scorchers, due to how they looked like they were burning the ground. But in reality, it was just soot being funneled downward, meant to be cleaned by special trucks.

  This car though, Reed knew it. A famous car. The Thunderbird.

  The man leaning against it was none other than Leon. Looking very pleased with his entrance, he removed his sunglasses. Reed could tell Leon regretted that as soon as he did, it was blistering hot.

  “The sun is really getting hot out here,” Leon said, squinting.

  “Why’d you bring one of those cars here?” Reed pointed to the Firebird. “We both know that technology is dead.”

  These words hurt Reed to admit, but while he disliked those engines, he couldn’t run from the truth.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Leon laughed. It took him a while to stop. He asked:

  “Then can you explain what that is doing here?”

  He pointed to Reed’s car. Before Reed could say anything, Leon continued.

  “Don’t get it confused. Just because I’m Iron Heart doesn’t mean I supported swapping every machine over to a life engine. In fact, with the knowledge I have, I’m probably one of the biggest advocates against converting everything. We barely understand these things. And even on the surface, we can all see the disgusting emissions they produce.”

  “Then why do you wear one? Why’s it still bolted into your skin?” Reed’s eyes scanned Leon’s body. The coat tried to cover the metallic shapes peeking out underneath.

  “Because, while I’m able to not love these machines like many do, I can understand them. They were our only chance. The enemy wields machines even stronger, even more deadly. Finding this technology after the first incursion was our only hope of surviving it.”

  Reed pondered the answer. The fighting was closer than he had imagined. He’d assumed humanity adopted the technology quickly out of convenience. But in reality, it seemed the initial decision had been one of desperation. Reed wanted to learn more about what happened during the first incursion. He held himself back from asking. The man clearly came here with intent, and Reed figured it was better to seem disinterested than eager, not that he was good with politics anyway.

  “Can I ask what’s different about the enemies? I saw that thing you called a Kyrian—its arm seemed to be the machined part. And it just looked like a drill.”

  Leon just smiled.

  “While I’d enjoy talking more about this with you… for one, that’s extremely classified. And two, I came here with a reason.”

  Reed figured as much. He read the news: “Two Iron Hearts dead at the scene,” “Incursions coming more frequently.”

  Leon’s face straightened.

  “We want you to join the Iron Hearts.”

  The jovial nature vanished, replaced by calm seriousness.

  “I figured you’d say that. But… can I ask why? My bravery was second to a child’s, and it’s not like I have any special training.”

  Leon shook his head.

  “We didn’t want you because you acted like some hero. We wanted you because you showed some courage, and you demonstrated an exceptional ability to fix machines. We need someone like you on the frontlines. When one of us goes down, we need someone who can help. Otherwise, we’re just sitting ducks.”

  It finally clicked for Reed. No one was there on the battlefield as a mechanic. His kind was becoming rarer, especially with the advent of life engines.

  He began to think it over. The idea of helping people on the battlefield, and in turn, helping the innocent people relying on them, appealed to him. One of God’s teachings was to help those in need. But he knew what that came with.

  He had only briefly been deployed during the last war, one of the last sent out before the atomic drop that caused the Sundering. Afterwards, both sides quickly finished negotiations. The Allies, having clearly won, still made quick work of peace talks. Nothing brings countries together like an outside enemy. Even so, he heard the gunfire. He felt the tremors of bombs dropping. He knew the feeling of sleeping in barracks, not knowing which of his friends would come back alive from the last battle.

  The brief time he was on the frontlines, the stench was what took him out. Rotting bodies. It wasn’t something he yearned to see again.

  “I know that look,” Leon said. “I made the same one when they asked me to join back.”

  The idea of watching friends die around you.

  Reed snapped out of his thoughts and looked more closely at Leon. The man seemed just a bit younger than him, but old enough to have been sent out himself.

  “How early were you sent out?” Reed asked.

  “One of the first waves. Back when they promised it’d be over by Christmas. When it was just supposed to be a vacation overseas.” He paused. “I was just lucky, lucky enough to live that long. Friends I cared about died…”

  His sentence ended abruptly. But Leon never lost his smile as he said it.

  Reed tried to read past the smile, but it seemed that was all there was.

  “I’ll need to think about it. It’s a big decision. And I hope you know… I despise those machines.”

  “If you want, you don’t have to wear one. We can keep you on the backlines, just ready for repairs.”

  Reed considered it, but before he could dwell much longer, Leon cleared his throat.

  “I hate to say this—but this was less of a request and more of a polite informing. You’ve been conscripted. We can’t afford not to have someone like you. The battles have become more dangerous, and frankly speaking, it would be a waste to give someone like you the choice.”

  He sighed.

  “That’s the military’s sentiment. And honestly? I agree. I’d rather force you to do this than lose another friend.”

  Reed took it all in. His thoughts jumbled. This conversation had gone from a polite offer to a death sentence at his doorstep.

  “I understand your hesitation. You can go home. We’ll return for you in a few days.”

  Reed’s heart thumped. He didn’t know what to make of it. But he knew if he went home, he was going to hide. He wanted to be brave truly but he was afraid.

  “No. Let’s go now. I’ll follow behind your car. If I’m gonna do this, I may as well face it head-on.”