He wanted to snap at her, tell her she was absolutely and horribly wrong. How on EARTH could she suggest that, after everything they had endured the past few days? He couldn't lay down and let this happen to them. But a key word she used temporarily stemmed the swirl of negativity clouding his mind. 

Home. 

She was right. They didn't have a home. It was hard to reconcile the idea. Maybe she was more comfortable with the notion of staying in the settlement due to the trauma she experienced at Chesapeake, but he had always known stability in Omega. Eventually he knew that the full gravity of Omega's destruction would settle into his bones. He would be a floater, a nomad. Sure, there were other survivors from Omega, but they were a small group and probably had moved on from the bunker already. They'd be hard, if not impossible to find. 

Maybe it would be easier to settle here, buy into whatever stuff they were selling, gather intel and then strike back when they're least expecting it. Yeah, he could work with that. He and Cam could liberate the people here, form a settlement that could help others, spread throughout the country. Yeah, that'll do, that'll do. 

He wanted to respond to Cam, but Avery cut him off. More tests. 

______________

"Virtual reality? Like a video game or something?" The trio in charge didn't respond, only watching ominously as the guards slipped a domed helmet over his skull, the lowest part covering his eyes. The sudden plunge of total darkness disoriented him for only a moment when bright, vibrant colors assaulted his eyes. He moved his hand up to shield his eyes, but halfway through the motion, he heard a voice:
"And those who trust in Me shall have living water flow from his heart." His hand dropped to his side, the once mentally crippling lights forming into a cohesive setting. Grass was underneath his bare feet, loose cargo shorts blowing in the breeze. The crisp, cool air gently wafted past his face as his eyes narrowed to examine the sweeping plain he was on. There were a few trees in the distance blooming with foliage, but much closer to him stood a figure robed in a black and white overcoat, his lips forming a smile. 
"Ryk..." He strode forward, the duo embracing for a moment before Justin stepped back, examining the familiar, worn face. 
"It's good to see you in one piece, son. I knew you'd make it out of there, but in how many pieces was my concern." Justin snorted a laugh.
"Come on, Ryk, you know I'm good at getting out of tough situations." 
"Still, worry isn't hard to occupy oneself with." 
"Fair enough." A stillness came over the plain. 
"I ah...I thought you died." 
"I did. Unlike you, I couldn't pull myself out in time."
"But you told me to leave." Ryken scoffed, motioning to the ring of corpses that they now stood in, riddled with bullet holes and stab wounds, gore spattered on the once peaceful field. 
"I didn't think that you would be such a mindless follower. To do everything I said without question. You never had much of a mind to lead, Justin, you know that. I just had to confirm it." Justin shook his head, backing away a couple of steps before tripping over a body. He tried to raise himself, but a hand was clamped onto his ankle. It was a boy, barely fourteen. His eyes were bloodshot, corneas inflamed, blood dripping from his mouth. A soft gurgle escaped from his lips as he tried to speak, his grip tightening. Justin squirmed away from his captor, but another hand shot out. Naomi, an older woman who sold salvage, hair caked with mud and viscera. Ryken's voice boomed over the plains as more of Omega's dead crawled towards Justin:
"Blessed are those whose blood is shed in the name of the Lord, for they will receive white robes and be given judgment over the nations!" 
"Ryk, stop them! Stop them!" He was kicking now, desperately, shouting in protest as they climbed over him, swarmed him.
"The Lord redeems His afflicted, but destroys the wicked! The Righteous shall trample upon the ashes of the wicked underfoot!" The grass was ablaze. Heat unbearable. 
"Stop...stop..." They were on top of him now, their weight pressing, suffocating, crushing his ribs. He could hear her voice now, a muttered whisper: 
"The fight was never in you. It was never about you. Give in." As a limb crawled across his face, he whispered:
"Wrong." 
"Give in, give up, give yourself to me. Always." 
"No." With a scream that ripped through his body, he punched upwards, clambering up and over the undulating mass of reanimated corpses, shoving, hitting. He finally reached the top to find Ryken holding a gleaming pistol in his right hand aimed directly at Justin. 
"Rest with the others. Accept your fate." 
"No." Justin curtly responded, heaving himself to his feet. 
"I will never stop. Ever." It wasn't Ryken in front of him now. Her hand trembled slightly, her slight, delicate hand. Bright blue eyes searched his, dark hair the color of hay settling on her shoulders. 
"Not even because of you." Justin ambled forward, her hand trembling even more.
"Don't make me do this. Please." Her voice cracked as Justin's sternum pressed against the barrel of the gun. 
"It was never about you." He uttered with a sad smile, the girl returning the gesture. 
"No. It never was." In a fluid series of movement, Justin grabbed the gun from the girl and delivered two shots to her head before firing at the ground below, unloading the ammunition into the mound of death beneath. They were finally still. 

Justin's body tumbled out of the chair, guards catching him before he connected with the ground. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes closed but twitching underneath his eyelids. 
"Strap in the female." The unknown second woman commanded as the guards carried the unconscious Justin out of the room.