Barren Crossroads

Paved With Good Intentions

Barren Crossroads

Chapter One

Paved with Good Intentions

She wandered. She walked. She'd been doing both for à while, unsure of when the hours melted into days, and the days into weeks. She wasn't sure where she was, or how much farther there was left to go. The hallucinations came and went, and the air around her seemed to shimmer around her, teetering somewhere between the here of reality, and the there of fantasy.

In the moments where she had some clarity, she tried to make sense of her surroundings. She'd catalogue an intriguing landmark, or burnt out building, or rusted car and file it away in the back of her mind. It was better to ponder over whether or not she was lost, and if she'd covered any ground than to think about the agony. It radiated- spiraling out from her damaged eye in spokes, shimmering through her veins and crystallizing in her nerve endings.

She had to get back to Jordan's lab. She had to find his notes, she had to piece together the cure. She had to do it, so that she could be safe again, so that everyone could be safe around her. She had to do it for Jace. She almost hoped he'd come back for her one more time. But she also hoped that he wouldn't.

It was still cold out, and as her ruined eye and shredded skin weeped pus and blood, she felt it freeze and harden on her skin. She knew she had an infection, and à bad one. The air felt like fire in her lungs, the skin around her face was fiery to the touch, and tight under her fingertips. She barely ate even when she did manage to find food. Her thoughts were foggy and they cluttered her mind like spare bits of paper and old buttons. Sometimes, she thought she saw Jace, or one of the others, walking through the fog just ahead of her. She'd try to run, and as she reached out to grab them, they'd shiver away and disappear in the mist.

It hurt more every time. She stumbled, and then fell to the ground. Her knees stung, and she rolled herself to her back. Her stomach seemed to cramp in on itself, and her arms wouldn't support her anymore as she tried to get back up. She gave up, laying on her back and letting the icy cold bleed through her clothes and into her skin. She was so tired.

She'd only close her eyes for à minute. Just à minute, and then she could keep going. No one was around. Not here, not anymore.

She shut her eyes. And the dreams came again.

Her memories flickered, faded, like someone had left film out in the sun. They weren't right- pieces in the wrong places, some things she was sure hadn't happened. Jordan whispered in her ear, muttering about cures and plans, and she stared down at blood drenched fingers and the bruises on her knuckles and finger shaped marks on a lifeless throat.

She almost hoped she didn't open her eyes ever again.

But she did.

And she didn't feel any better. She wasn't sure how long she was out this time. It could have been anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours to a few days. The pain was still there, now a dull, thrumming ache, beating a tattoo on her skull, biding it's time. She was still sick, very sick, but somehow, her thoughts felt a little more clear.

Like she was moving boxes around, or sifting through old books, she tried to put them in some kind of order. Medicine- she needed to find some first. Possibly a store, but the likelihood of any pharmacy or store still having any was pretty low. She'd had a stash when she'd been in D.C, but she had no way of knowing where that was now.

Map. She needed that second. She'd not known where or for how long she wandered after coming back over the fence at that compound, and she knew she was very lost. She had a bit of food, but would need to ration it to find more.