Chapter 2

  ~ Blood and Rain ~

  The pain was sharp and surged through with each hurried step. Warm blood soaked into torn clothes; fingers slick with a thick flood.

  She cut through the streets, the rain lashing at her skin with relentless force and turning the world around her into a blur. Every inch of clothing clung to her body, carrying a chill that crept deeper into her bones.

  The moon itself watched above, indifferent, offering no clarity in the twisting maze of alleyways. But her feet knew the way. Habit and instinct guided her where her vision failed. A few more steps. The building was close now, somewhere ahead, its battered storefront a wreck of splintered wood and smashed glass, picked apart by looters in the first years of chaos. Before we retreated underground.

  Overhead, a dead neon cross hung like a ghastly omen, its bulbs long shattered, jutting forward in silent warning. They would be looking for her. By now, they were probably already out there, in the night; the ones who had given her a wound to remember them by.

  She forced herself through the last few steps until her hand met the door. Leaning her weight against it, a fleeting moment of relief came, and she let out a ragged breath. She could feel the heat radiating from her wound like a reminder that her time ran dangerously thin.

  The door resisted, its frame a jagged mouth of glass shards like the teeth of a monster, but she pushed it open with a grunt. Inside, the silence was absolute. A breath forced its way out of her burning lungs as she prayed no one would interrupt her. Let me have just a moment.

  She felt along the shelves with fingers slick from her very blood. They brushed over dust-coated surfaces and broken leftovers of supplies long since scavenged in a desperate search for something that might help. Gauze. Painkillers. Anything.

  Her hand struck a small, plastic box beneath a mound of discarded containers. Still sealed. Peeling back the wrapper, her grip trembled in anticipation.

  Gauze.

  With a grimace, she tugged up her shirt. The fabric tore free from the wound in a searing pain. And beneath her ribs, where her right kidney would be, there was a gash. Deep and dark. If her bladder had been hit… she brushed the thought aside. At least she would still have the second one.

  Blood pooled hot against her skin as it dripped along her jeans. She swallowed hard. The view of raw flesh and the terrible width of the wound made her shudder. It’s too wide. Fear clawed its way up, unfurling faster than she could tamp it down. Cold tears slipped down unnoticed, crashing onto her crimson jeans.

  Desperate, she pressed the gauze to the wound with shaking hands. The fabric darkened instantly, and a grim certainty settled over her. She would die here.

  She had fought so hard for so long. Scraping by in a world that had never shown mercy. Now, only the cold remained, and she wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground and finally let the pain drag her under.

  But she couldn’t. I can’t let it be the end. She had been dragged through a self-contained world that had taught her nothing but to fend for herself. A place where people only took. Where men saw women as little more than resources and claimed they fought for the restoration of humankind. Their cruelty had always been justified in their eyes, and she had felt the bite of it countless times.

  The thought of restoring humanity was laughable. It had never offered her anything worth preserving. And from what she could recall, or what little she had learned, it hadn’t been any better before.

  Sure, she had cared for a few people along the way—some more dearly than others—and in some other life, she might have taken them with her. Especially when she still dreamt of leaving this place unnoticed, slip away beyond the reach of those who clung to the twisted remains of old ideals.

  A past she had never asked to inherit.

  The thought awoke something fierce, igniting with a sudden heat. Resentment. I can’t let them win. With a furious snarl, she forced herself up, wrapping the bandage around her waist. She pulled it with all the strength she could muster. It had to hold.

  Engines roared through the night as bright, predatory beams cut through the merciless air. And though the rain might offer some cover, it would only be a matter of time before those lights locked onto her. She counted at least three Humvees, maybe four. Too many either way. This part of the outside perimeter wasn’t big; she would have to hurry.

  Adrenaline dulled the pain, but each step sent a sharp sting through her side. With every move, her wound threatened to split wider. She clamped her lips shut, focusing on the single image in her mind. Her destination. A heavy green door, embedded in thick concrete. Just a few blocks away. Supposing I can make it there.

  The wall that stretched around it had been raised with a promise to keep the evil outside. Only it had failed to protect them from the one inside. She could almost laugh, her escape a sweet irony—slipping through the very guardians of this wretched place. They can all go fuck themselves and everything they stand for.

  But they wouldn’t just let her go. Not after she had seen behind the mask. They wanted her silent, buried with all their lies and secrets. And they would stop at nothing to make sure of it. Shouts echoed through the storm. Even now, they were intent on her demise. She could feel it in every barked command, in every angry order. But they wouldn’t catch her that easily.

  I’m getting out of this hell. But a whisper in the back of her mind cut through to her resolve: the fear of running towards another one.

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  Her vision blurred when she turned a corner. In the dim light, something moved ahead.

  She clenched her muscles despite the biting pain and leapt behind a rusted bin. It was one of them. Maybe he hadn’t seen her, but he was coming her way, betrayed by footfalls bouncing off the walls of broken houses. There was no way back now. Any movement could be seen, and her usual M.O. was suicide. I’m too weak to fight.

  Her best bet was to remain hidden in the dark.

  She inhaled slowly, holding her composure. One… two… three… Through the hiss of the rain, the footsteps drew closer, a heavy tread that splashed through every puddle. One… two… three… A curse escaped, muttered under breath and cursing the downpour. One… two… thr—

  Her muscles seized with a fresh wave of pain. The last traces of adrenaline had drained away, and she clenched her stomach in agony. One… two…

  The shadow shifted past the spot where she crouched. It loomed and faded into the mist. Meters away. She glimpsed the sheen of a parka, rain streaming from the hood, giving her pursuer the look of a spectral apparition.

  One… She braced herself for the next move. Two… Her weight shifted slowly. THREE—

  Pain exploded through her side. Her vision swam, and a strangled cry slipped out despite her clenched teeth. It tore into the night like the scream of a wounded animal.

  “Hey!”

  She never looked back. She was already running.

  The water had climbed higher, swirling around her calves. Each movement was a battle against the current. Fragments of debris floated by, swept along in a merciless race. A race she couldn’t win. Her pursuer had been shaken off for now. Lost in the maze of alleys and flooded streets. But she stayed alert. She knew a wet, injured prey wasn’t hard to track. Even in this rain.

  She had made it this far on little more than raw defiance and luck, but the real challenge lay ahead. They would be waiting for her at the door. And as exhaustion and blood loss had taken a toll on her focus, through the sheets of rain, a figure materialised in the distance. A familiar being. And it spoke.

  Look at you all beaten up… Did you get into trouble again? The voice asked, gently scolding.

  Her heart lurched. It was a voice she had once trusted. A voice that had meant safety and comfort. It belonged to someone she had loved. Someone long gone. And yet, here they were. Standing in an echo from the past.

  A raindrop struck her eye and pulled her back to reality. The door. She wasn’t far now. If she could just reach it… the hunt would end; they wouldn’t dare follow her. Superstition and fear would keep even the boldest away.

  For them, the door stood as a symbol of the corruption. A token of evil. For her, it was a last chance—not that she knew what lay on the other side. Some spoke of wastelands crawling with monsters, others of an endless sprawl of shattered buildings. A place where hope was left to fester. Maybe none of it was true; she would find out soon enough.

  A leap over broken barricades sent a fresh reminder of how close she was to collapse. Her whole body trembled, and another whisper drifted through the storm.

  You should rest… You look exhausted, darling… The voice was honey-smooth, coaxing.

  Leave me alone. The cruel irony wasn’t lost on her. She had once longed for the opposite. She could still remember the sting of that last morning, waking to a cold, empty bed, the scent of coconut still lingering faintly on the sheets. A final argument the night before had sealed a silent deal, like a signature on a divorce paper.

  That’s when she realised the motors had died. They had left a heavy silence in the streets. Slowly, she sneaked forward. The door was just ahead. Almost there. Her hand moved to her bag, where a rusted tool was hidden in a side pouch. She slid it into her sleeve to prepare her last resort. If not for the wound tearing at her side, she might have sprinted for the door and dodged the ambush. But now, there was only one option left.

  She raised her hands, stepping forward nonchalantly. They needed to think she could still fight.

  “I know you’ve got me surrounded,” she called. “Drop the act, and let’s talk.”

  Figures shifted in the gloom, and emerged with cautious steps. Even as battered and unarmed as she looked, their tension was palpable. They still fear me, she thought with grim satisfaction.

  “We thought you’d keep running,” a low mocking voice escaped the group.

  Briggs.

  Her jaw tightened. She hadn’t expected him here; the memory of their last encounter was still vivid. But there he stood. The face behind her fall.

  “No, I’m done running.” She gestured to her side, where blood soaked through her shredded shirt.

  A grin split his face, an expression that she’d once found charming now filling her with revulsion. “I apologise for the way things have turned out,” he said with false sincerity, then nodded to one of his men. “Restrain her.”

  A frail, young man with red hair had stepped forward, uncertainty piercing his gaze. Good. That was Briggs’ first mistake; he should have sent someone stronger, more confident. Instead, he had sent a kid.

  The boy pulled a rope from his tight belt, rolling it in his trembling hands. She held his gaze. This was the moment she had been waiting for. The joust.

  As he reached her, she struck. Her hand darted to his exposed neck, and the rusty blade burst from her sleeve. In a heartbeat, she had slipped behind him and wrenched his limp arm back. Fear seeped through him, and he barely resisted.

  She whispered in his ear. “Stay with me, pretty boy. We’re going to dance a little.”

  The grin had left Briggs’s face, his smug smile replaced with a tight expression of anger. Men shifted uneasily around them. They clutched their weapons as if they were shields, and she stalked around them to take in their hesitation.

  “Let’s not get carried away,” Briggs said, his voice trying for calm. “Come with us. There’s still a deal to be made.”

  It’s way too late for that now.

  His eyes went to her injury. “In your condition, you wouldn’t make it very far. Olivia asked us to bring you back. Unharmed.”

  That name. It cut through her like a blade, but she wouldn’t fall for his games. Not this time. She took a step back, tightening her grip on the red-haired boy. Her knife was held close enough to keep him squirming, and he searched his comrades for the sign of a plan. They simply watched, paralysed with indecision.

  “Drop the rope, boy,” she commanded, “and the knife. Maybe I won’t slit your throat.”

  He obeyed, letting both fall to the ground without a word.

  “Now, when I shove you, you’re going to run. Straight towards your little friends. Understood?”

  He nodded, his face pale with fear.

  “Nice knowing you, Briggs,” she yelled with disdain. “I hope you dream of me coming back.”

  With a swift push, she released the hostage. He stumbled, then bolted towards the others. Good little soldier. Without wasting a moment, she grabbed the discarded objects and turned to the door. The handle felt icy beneath her trembling hand. But she had a last thing to do before turning it. The final act.

  She spun with a cruel, sweeping gaze. “Ask him,” she shouted at Briggs’ minions, “ask him how they know what’s outside!”

  Her last mischief accomplished, the door groaned. She stepped through. It was dry inside, at last. But her head suddenly spun with a violent fever, each heartbeat pounding in her eardrum. She staggered, reaching blindly for support, and her fingers found a stone wall. Her legs gave out beneath her.

  I did it. She chuckled.

  Lying on the cold concrete, her mind finally drifted. A familiar warmth surfaced in the haze of exhaustion; the scent of coconut and the touch of Her hand. A wave of sadness and longing.

  And then a dream.

  ***