Sunrise breached the horizon as the five broke through the edge of the forest. They paused for a moment to appreciate the pure light reflecting off a stream that wound its way between scattered suburban-style homes and spacious farmland. At first glance it was if nothing bad had ever happened here. But, as they took a closer look, certain details became obvious: shattered windows, doors hanging on broken hinges, garbage scattered along the ground, and the slow movement of a half dozen or so orcs shambling through the streets, looking for prey.

“Let’s go around,” suggested Claudia.

Rachael nodded. There were not likely survivors here and the odds of supplies still remaining in the gutted buildings were too low to risk drawing out more orcs.

As they turned away from the dead town below, a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye caught Rachael’s attention even as Alice called her name in a low, urgent voice. Rachael spun, dagger already in hand as something pushed its way through the bushes on either side of a deer path ahead in the tree line. The others took out their weapons swiftly and silently, ready for anything.

Well, almost anything.

None of them were prepared for the little boy that emerged. He looked seven or eight, tops. Hair combed and slicked nicely to the side, dressed in country club best, looking as if he had wandered away from a family luncheon in the World Before. His light green button-down shirt was well kept, no holes or patches other than a small rip in one sleeve that could have come from wandering in the woods. Even his shoes were in good shape.

For a brief moment Rachael thought she might be dreaming. His cheeks were rosy and clean and round, not gaunt like the children back at the hospital. This child didn’t know hardship. Didn’t have to fight for survival. This was not a child from the end of the world.

“Hold,” Rachael said softly to her team, dropping her dagger to her side and quickly slipping it back into the sheath. She stepped forward with a non-threatening posture, hands out front and low, the way you’d approach a strange dog. The boy saw them and nearly bolted, but froze when Rachael spoke.

“Hey there.”

He looked at her warily, eyes red and swollen from crying.

“I’m Rachael.” She spoke in a calm and soothing voice. “What’s your name?” She walked a few steps closer, keeping her eyes and ears open for a possible ambush. The boy blinked through his tears.

“T-T-Tommy,” he stammered.

She smiled at him, trying to put him at ease, taking a few more steps forward until she was directly in front of him. Crouching down on one knee so she and the boy were face to face, Rachael put on her best friendly this-is-not-the-apocalypse smile. “Where’s your family, Tommy?”

Sniffling, he glanced back at Alice and the other three before finally settling his gaze on Rachael. It suddenly occurred to her what a sight they must be—her in jeans, T-shirt, and Wonder Woman armor mixed and matched with Sif and Valkyrie and Asgardian armor pieces, and her fellow travelers wearing a mix of costumes, armor, and well-worn everyday clothes.