Stowaway

Chapter One

A stowaway is a person who secretly boards a vehicle, such as a ship, an aircraft, a train, cargo truck or bus, in order to travel without being detected.

Chapter One

The streets of New Orleans were bright beneath the lights, neon signs, and giant force field that glowed around the city. The force field was a constant reminder to those of the sickness that lurked just outside the walls.

New Orleans was one of the last clean cities in America. Once the sickness had begun to spread, the shields had gone up to protect those in the city that were still healthy. The shields had been successful. The sick were unable to cross through the border, the wall designed to kill any infected that tried went through. It should've done it's job and killed Thea Monroe.

She felt the old mark on her arm burn, though the bite had scarred over a year ago. She shouldn't be alive, and yet there she was, trying to appear invisible as she hurried down the dirty street, hood pulled low over her face. She dodged around the groups of party goers, the ones that were trying to catch a little happiness while the world ended around them, throwing plastic beads up in the air and cheering. They'd probably be dead soon too.

She narrowly missed a string of beads thrown at her as she turned the corner. Frowning, she tucked a lock of dark red hair back into her hood, eyes scanning the signs above her. Bourbon Street wasn't what it used to be. Some still tried to keep the magic alive. The neon signs seemed dimmer to Thea, but they were still there, glowing brightly.

Two men reeking of gin stumbled out of the bar she was about to enter, laughing drunkenly to each other. They couldn't be any older than nineteen. Since the disease had grabbed the world in its fist and crushed it, the legal drinking age had been dropped. Now, if a fifteen year old walked into a liquor store, no one would blink an eye. It was an industry that thrived even at the end of the world.

"Hey pretty thing!" One of them stopped, catching a glimpse of Thea's face. She cursed under her breath. Trying to avoid them, she picked up her speed, heading towards the door. She didn't want anyone to take notice of her. These days, it was even more dangerous for a seventeen year old girl to walk alone.

She ducked inside the bar, keeping her head down. The two were too drunk to follow, disappearing down the street, to Thea's relief.

Thea squinted through the thick smoke that hung in the air. The bar hummed with loud music. New Orleans was one of the last cities to keep their power, and this bar seemed to be taking advantage. Old rock played in the background. The jukebox glowed in the corner, a few people crowded around it.

Thea wove her way through the crowd, making her way towards the bar where a familiar face was scrubbing at a dirty counter, yelling at someone over his shoulder. She pushed towards the edge of the counter and Bowe caught sight of her. He watched as she approached, bushy eyebrows furrowing.

Bowe Jameson had been her father's best friend for nearly all his life. Thea hadn't seen the old bartender in nearly five years, but he looked the same; dark arms brawny and his eyes the color of chocolate. Even as he watched her like a hawk, his eyes were warm and familiar.

"Can I help ya, kid?" He asked.

Thea pulled the hood off, giving him a smile, "yeah, actually."

"Thea Monroe?" he asked, looking shocked. It only lasted a moment before he was barrelling towards her, tossing his filthy rag on the bartop. "You got big, girl!" He exclaimed as he crushed her in a hug. He backed up, peppering her with questions."What're you doin' here? Where's your daddy?"