Bound to Ashes [The Altered Sequence: Book 1]

9 • Thousand-Yard Stare

[Dev]

The rain may have been heavy before, but at least it wasn't this. It blows at us sideways, whipping our clothes around as we pause. The skyscrapers push the wind faster along the city corridors. Alessandra hears me sigh and says, "Sorry, we have to cut through the middle. Cities are where the virus hit the hardest. People didn't even have a chance to stockpile supplies and flee for less crowded areas."

"So, what, does that mean the pickings are good, or bad?" Peregrine laughs.

"Probably bad," Vinder says. "We're not the only ones out here looking for stuff."

"Still. I think it's worth checking. And we could use some refueling, anyway," Alessandra says, her voice trailing off, which doesn't exactly fill me with confidence.

"Cities are full of two things," Peregrine says, counting on her fingers. "One: a ton of supplies. Two: corpses."

"Oh, yay," Jules mutters, folding her arms.

"Better corpses than the alternative," James adds under his breath. "Dead people don't shoot." He almost takes the words out of my head. It's stupid of me to think that's like a breach of privacy, but agreeing with him is like brushing fur the wrong way.

We crest the highway ramp and it eventually descends into the city. It looks like any other. Shop signs rusted and covered in moss hang limply from concrete fronts. Bent light posts with shattered faces tower over the grassy roads and hanging moss waves like tattered flags. This area must have gotten more rain than ours. Of course.

In another life, in another timeline, where we weren't forced to take shelter from humans back at our city, we could have made it to places like this a long time ago. Resentment blooms hot in my chest despite the chilly air.

But this city seems to have had a more violent past than the one back home. We come to a stop by a giant metal collage of plates and wire and other scraps— piled vertically to form a barrier. At its base, cars lay turned on their sides. Metal shrapnel bent together laces the top of the makeshift wall like thorns.

Punk pads up to the wall and sniffs it as if it would come to life at any second. The hair on his back stands up straight.

"What is it?" Vinder asks, approaching the metal behemoth carefully.

"Military checkpoint?" Peregrine offers.

James shakes his head and reaches for his pocket. "No. This isn't a checkpoint. There's no gate."

Alessandra, eyebrows knit in concentration, suddenly lights up. "Others." Everyone looks at her and she says again, "Other survivors. They could be anywhere—"

"I don't hear anything," Ashton says. "Just us."

Alessandra glances at Ashton like she doesn't believe him, but pauses. "Fine, but let's keep moving."

She leads us away from the wall and Vinder says under his breath, "Supplies and corpses."

The mist gradually increases to a steady soaking rain thick enough to turn black shadows grey. I pass around a car with a sapling growing out of the sunroof.

After an hour or two of steady, creeping walking, Alessandra breaks the silence. "You'll be our first line of defense, Ashton."

"Hm? Yeah. Of course." He moves his eyes to the distance, intense and focused.

But he stops and turns around all of a sudden— but it's just Punk. He stands at the other end of the block, legs apart and ears pinned back. The hair along his back stands up. Is he... growling...?