Chapter 2 (Anna’s POV)

  I didn’t plan on coming back here so soon.

  But instincts ruled my decisions in this world—eyes always scanning, ears pricked for the slightest threat, mind racing with the kind of harsh practicality that’s kept me breathing this long. Survival first, everything else second.

  So after leaving the plaza, I headed east, intent on finding something—anything—that would fill my empty stomach or give me a precious edge. But as I picked my way through broken streets and skeletal remains of old offices, a nagging tug in my gut kept telling me to watch that door. The one he vanished through.

  At first, I shook it off. Wasted sentiment. He was gone, and pining after a half-remembered swirl of light wouldn’t get me squat. But some paranoid corner of my mind suggested that door could open again. Maybe roamers or ferals would pour out. Or—God forbid—some new traveler as clueless as he was would wander through. If that door still existed, it could become a bigger threat than I realized.

  So I looped around, circling through a few blocks I knew might hold scraps of food or leftover supplies, then found a vantage point near a half-collapsed building. The roof had caved in, forming a shallow overhang that, if I crouched just right, would keep me hidden from casual eyes—both living and undead.

  Before setting up, I scavenged around the block, my stomach snarling from hours without more than a mouthful of stale water. The building used to be some kind of convenience store or maybe a break room for office drones. Either way, the shelves were ransacked, wrappers and broken snack machines piled in corners. A thick layer of gray dust coated everything, and the smell of rot lingered in dark recesses—probably old corpses or dead animals I didn’t care to investigate.

  I poked through soggy cardboard boxes and shattered vending machines. Most were empty, wrappers torn, plastic molding with fungus. Eventually, I dug out a couple of half-rancid snack bars sealed in damp plastic. The expiration date didn’t even matter at this point—anything slightly edible is a treasure. I wrinkled my nose at the sour smell but tucked them into my bag.

  I also came across a dusty fridge behind a toppled counter. The door had rusted shut, but my bat served as a fine pry bar. Inside, everything was black with mold. The stench billowed out like a physical wave, slamming into me so hard I almost retched on the spot. My instincts told me no way, but my desperation wanted me to check for any sealed cans or jars. In the end, I couldn’t stomach rummaging deeper—it was a mosaic of pulsating mildew, half-congealed liquids, and a million wriggling maggots. No thanks.

  With a frustrated grunt, I left the fridge to its foul chaos, clutching my meager finds. At least it was something. Enough to quiet the hunger for a few hours if I played my cards right.

  Outside, the sunlight shifted across the debris, making it look almost tranquil if you squinted. But I didn’t let my guard down. My vantage spot called to me—an old maintenance crawlspace right above a cluster of cracked windows. Perfect for a short rest, hidden from both roamers and prying human eyes.

  Yet, as I edged closer, I heard that guttural moan, soft and rasping, echoing along the alley. My pulse kicked, and I swung my bat down from my shoulder, scanning the gloom. Three roamers shambled at the far end of the alley, half-obscured by piles of abandoned office chairs and broken pallets. One wore a stained business shirt, the flesh on its torso half eaten away, exposing ribs crusted in dried gore. Another limped forward, dragging a twisted leg behind, leaving a faint dark smear in its wake. The third… well, I barely recognized it as once-human: its face had peeled away, revealing pinkish muscle crawling with flies, its lips rotted clean off.

  They hadn’t noticed me yet, but they blocked the path to my hidey hole. I bit back a curse. Could I slip around them unseen? Possibly. But pearls were currency if I wanted to trade for anything more substantial than a half-rotten snack bar. And after losing my “business arrangement” with the disappearing city boy, I needed every advantage.

  My heart thudded once, then I steeled myself. Time to do this.

  I approached in a crouch, batting at a stray chunk of debris to create a faint scrape of noise—just enough to attract the roamers’ attention. They turned as one, milky eyes rolling in slack-jawed hunger. A dull moan rose in their throats, reeking breath billowing through the alley.

  Gross didn’t begin to cover it. The stench of sour rot slammed my senses—the smell of decay so advanced it made my teeth ache. My stomach threatened to rebel, but I forced the bile down. I’d done this before.

  The first roamer lurched forward, arms outstretched, nails blackened and ragged. I sidestepped nimbly, raising my bat. With a grunt, I swung at its head. A wet crunch followed, the wood connecting with half-mummified skull. The bone split like rotten fruit, thick, dark fluid splattering across the bricks. My eyes stung from the rancid spray, but I kept my grip firm, yanking the bat free as the creature collapsed in a twitching heap.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  The second roamer, the one with the twisted leg, dragged itself quicker than I anticipated, jaws snapping. I slammed the bat into its shoulder, spinning it sideways against the wall. The roamer’s rotting flesh peeled away under the impact, a hunk of necrotic tissue ripping free with a nauseating slurp. Flies swarmed, frantic for fresh gore. The creature flailed, letting out a gurgling shriek. I took the opening, bashing in the back of its skull. Another wet crack echoed. More black, clotted matter splattered onto the alley floor.

  The last one, missing half its face, snapped at me from the side, forcing me to jerk away. Its exposed jaw clacked, lips gone, drool mixed with congealed blood. My stomach twisted, but I gritted my teeth, driving the bat forward like a spear. The end struck it right in the open maw, lodging momentarily in rancid muscle. With a muffled curse, I tore it free and swung again, feeling the creature’s skull give under the second blow. It slumped to the ground, limbs twitching feebly until it finally went still.

  My pulse hammered, breath coming in ragged gulps. The alley reeked of spilled innards and rotting tissue. Flies buzzed in a maddening cloud, hungry for the new feast. I forced myself not to recoil. This was life in the apocalypse, and I couldn’t waste time squeamishly.

  Kneeling amid the carnage, I fumbled for my pocket knife. The first roamer’s skull was partially caved, bits of bone and putrid matter visible. My stomach lurched as I reached into the sticky mess near the base of its neck. The flesh felt like rancid gelatin, each press releasing a foul stench that made my eyes water. My gag reflex threatened to upend whatever meager breakfast I’d had, but I pushed through, rummaging until my fingers closed on a small, hard orb.

  It popped free with a sickening squelch, sticky fluid slithering over my hand. Biting back a groan, I shoved the pearl into my satchel, ignoring the vile smear it left on the fabric.

  I repeated the process with the other two, each extraction more nauseating than the last. One roamer’s neck split open under my searching fingers, loosing a surge of blackish goo that reeked like a sewage dump filled with decaying meat. I nearly vomited, but a wave of determination kept me steady. A minute later, I had three pearls—each slick with gore, pulsing faintly with that strange warmth. It felt… unholy, yet I needed them if I wanted to stay afloat in this dead world.

  Shaking off what I could of the foulness clinging to my knife and hands, I scanned the alley for any signs of fresh movement. No new threats, for now. Nausea churned in my gut; the taste of rot still clung to my tongue. But I exhaled, forcing my heartbeat to slow.

  “Now we’re talking,” I muttered to no one, stuffing the pearls deeper into my bag. “Anna, you’re a disgusting fool, but you’ll live another day.”

  With the roamers dispatched, I dragged their corpses aside, letting them slump against a collapsed dumpster. Flies already swarmed around the new openings in their decayed skulls, an endless feast for those wretched insects. I sniffed in distaste but wasted no more time.

  A quick climb later, I reached the cracked ledge of the building’s second floor, slipping into a half-flooded utility room. The space stank of mildew and old sewage, but it offered decent cover, the walls half-fallen yet forming a protective nook. I cleared some debris with my bat, wincing at the scurrying roaches beneath.

  “There,” I whispered, dropping to a crouch behind a battered metal cabinet. Through a large crack in the remaining wall, I had a decent view of the corporate plaza in the distance—the one with the battered door. If something—or someone—appeared, I might see it from here.

  My arms quivered from the fight, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. A sticky sheen of gore coated my forearms, the smell making my stomach roil. But I had grown used to it, in that dull, battered way survivors do. Carefully, I tugged out one of those half-rancid snack bars, nibbling with caution. The taste wasn’t pleasant—old peanuts, rancid chocolate—but it filled that aching emptiness in my gut.

  As I sat there, chewing slowly, my eyes drifted toward the door where he had vanished. It looked lifeless from here, just a hunk of metal in a ruined plaza. But I couldn’t banish the memory of his shape flickering in fractals of light. The Key, he’d called it. Some cosmic exit that spirited him away.

  I shook my head, swallowing the last crumb of the bar. “Lucky bastard,” I repeated under my breath, though bitterness curled around the words. I wondered if he truly made it “home,” or if the city simply chewed him up in some intangible dimension.

  Sighing, I let my shoulders slump against the cold metal cabinet. The day wore on, the bright patches of sunlight slowly inching across the broken floor. My mind wouldn’t stop replaying that final moment. Anger, confusion, a fleeting pang of… regret.

  Focus, Anna. I inhaled deeply, forcing my thoughts to practical matters. I had scored a few pearls, found a stale snack bar—enough for a small victory. Maybe tomorrow I’d hit that grocery distribution center, maybe the day after I’d slip around the Empire’s patrol lines. My life here continued, with or without a clueless city boy handing me easy loot.

  Still, I caught myself glancing at the door again, half-hoping and half-dreading it might shimmer or open. “Nothing but trouble,” I muttered, swiping a hand across my sweaty brow. “If it does open again, maybe that’d be the real payday… or maybe it’ll just unleash more nightmares. Either way, I’ll be ready.”

  I pressed a hand to my satchel, feeling the soft, pulsing warmth of the pearls inside. Each one represented another fraction of progress—another inch of survival. Another chance to keep this broken city from swallowing me.

  Outside, the wind stirred the rubble, carrying echoes of distant moans and shifting debris. No sign of movement near the door. For now, the hush continued.

  A hush I loathed as much as I needed—stillness that always threatened to break.

  Muttering curses under my breath, I checked my bat for cracks, cleared some gore off the handle, then settled in, eyes flickering between the battered plaza and the shattered horizon. My heart thudded with a relentless beat, half comfort and half reminder that I was still alive to face the next horror. I wondered if that city boy—Joshua—realized how many horrors I’d face in the days to come.

  He escaped. I stayed.

  “Fine,” I whispered to the empty air. “I’m better off on my own anyway.”

  But it didn’t stop me from watching that door, just in case