False Gods | The Prime Archives #3 ✓

one

Chase thought he would've gotten used to the cold by now.

A year had passed, and the chilling winter air hadn't become any more bearable. In fact, he was pretty sure it got worse.

So much for global warming.

He had let his hair grow out over the last couple of months. It started off as a way to disguise himself from Atlas patrol units and videos, but he was starting to like how he looked with chin-length hair and a scruffy, dirty blond beard.

The current version of himself was indistinguishable from the one who had been fighting for Atlas three years prior.

A wistful sigh left his blue lips.

That was a long time ago. He was different now.

Everything was different now.

His teeth chattering, he rubbed his fingerless gloves together and continued trudging through the North Dakota snow. He wasn't sure how he and his group ended up in the Midwest. They started in Oregon, but the Atlas agents quickly forced them east. Eventually, they settled in the middle of nowhere in one of the most boring states in the country.

He didn't really mind, though. He preferred boring as opposed to being chased by those he once called his friends.

His jaw clenched at the thought. Three years later and it still stung like a stake to the heart.

Still, he didn't regret his decision. Especially after what had happened to the last three years. He didn't even recognize Atlas anymore. Once the PRA was signed, the United States military seized all operations—including the Prime Task Force.

Sighing, he continued stomping through the pine forest. White blanketed the needles, blocking the beaming sun in the gray sky. A breeze whistled through the massive trees, penetrating the many layers of clothes Chase wore. He grit his teeth and forced himself to keep going. Today's patrol wouldn't complete itself.

He and his group—which various news outlets had dubbed The Exiles—arrived in North Dakota a year ago. Before that, they spent a few months in Wyoming. And before that, they hid out in the mountains of Oregon.

Atlas and the Jaeger's—the new title for non-powered members of the Prime Task Force—were still hunting them down, desperate to throw them in The Vault, the prison for Primes in the Atlantic Ocean.

It was up to him to keep his people safe. They were counting on him.

Which is why he was out on patrol, checking the traps he and Archie set up around their underground bunker base. Tripwires connected to alarms back at headquarters lined the perimeter of the forest. A few CCTV cameras hidden in the trees relayed nonstop footage of their surroundings. If anything got close, Archie would be the first to know.

Their survival depended on it.

They had to remain alert and diligent at all times. Chase still remembered the last time they let their guard down. His jaw clenched at the memory.

Never again.

When they first arrived in North Dakota, they lucked up and found an abandoned bomb shelter. It was big enough to house them all and had enough canned food to last a few months. Whoever built it must have had a huge family, because there were more than enough rooms to house all of The Exiles. There was even space for them to store their van, which they had been lugging around since they went on the run. If it weren't for Andre's background in mechanics and car repairs, they might not have ever made it out of Oregon.

Everyone on the team played their part, though. Chase might have been in charge, but the others were just as important as he was.

Andre helped Archie with any mechanical issues around the bunker. Emily managed their weapons supply. Victor made sure everyone stayed on top of their training. Kai and Danai helped cook their meals.