Bound to Ashes [The Altered Sequence: Book 1]

2 • Tin Cans

[Dev]

I should be happy that it's windy so often. Tracking footprints on dust is impossible. But when it's blowing flecks of sand into your face like it's trying to peel your skin off, it's pretty hard to be thankful. Guess a sandstorm is better than being tracked by human spies, though. Even though there hasn't been a spy in months. Something about that makes my breakfast sit funny. They could be planning something. But I always think that, and nothing happens, so what do I know? You're just paranoid, Dev.

Wind whistles past the bus windows. I used to wonder why there was a double-decker bus out in the middle of nowhere, half buried in dirt and sand, rusted to bits... but it's a good place to get away from the other, bigger metal shell in the ground. A change of scenery. The dusty wind outside paints a haze in front of the brown trees in the distance.

There's a harsh tapping on the rusty frame of the bus. The driver's seat creaks from my startled jump. Ashton crouches and leans over to see inside the cab. For a normal pair of legs, it would be a normal squat, but with his long feet it looks like he's on small stilts.

"Sorry," he says. "Room for one more?" His easygoing half-smile makes it hard to say no.

"Sure."

Ashton squeezes through the broken windshield, somehow, twisting himself around. He might not have been able to fit when the bus's second floor was still intact, but it crumbled away a while ago. He sits in the passenger seat next to me and tries to orient his legs so they're not bunched up. He finally leans back and says through a heavy breath, "Kind of hot out here for this, isn't it?"

"It's cooler than it was yesterday."

But he still makes exasperated noises and fans himself with his hand. It's not that hot.

"So what're you doing out in the bus, anyway?" Ashton asks conversationally, looking out over the orchard. The winds kick up and the dust almost blocks out the trees, washing them out. Some of the ply boards nailed to the windows clatter from the wind.

"Just thinking."

"You can't say, 'just thinking,' and not expect me to ask what you're thinking about."

Yeah, yeah, okay. Walked right into that one. "I'm thinking about the human spies. Or, well, how there haven't been any in a while."

He nods. "True. That's kind of a windfall, though, right?"

Windfall. That's... a blessing? A good thing? "I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well, no, I'm glad they're gone, but what if it's because they already know where we are? What if the reason they aren't sending spies is... because they don't need them anymore?"

Ashton shivers despite the heat. "That's heartening."

I shrug. "It's a possibility."

I almost add, 'It'll be a relief if the humans come and kill us.' But it doesn't seem productive to say something like that. But underneath my logical self, I think it's true. I would be happy— well maybe not happy, but at peace— if they humans showed up with their guns and skimmers and got it over with. Dying of a gunshot wound seems better than starvation or dehydration. Wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again. But maybe before they shot us down I could ask them— why do you hate us so much? What did we do? And if it turns out they hate us for being able to survive the virus, or if they thought we fought in the war, or even just for existing, at least then I'd know why.

I glance over at Ashton. And there's Jules back at home. And hell, even Cain, off wherever it is he disappears to. It's always worth it to try and survive, if only for their sakes.