The smell of fresh air grew stronger, so they hurried on. Soon her headlamp picked out the edge of the concrete tunnel. Beyond was the most pitch-black landscape she’d ever seen. At least while inside the tunnel, her headlamp had reflected off its close walls. But out there, the space was immense. Her headlamp reached out into that abyss and simply ended.
She stopped. “What’s out there?”
He turned. “Everything.”
“I’m . . .”
“Afraid?”
She nodded.
“I don’t blame you. This is huge. But you can make it.” He held out his hand, and she took it. His skin felt rough and warm as his strong fingers closed around hers.
As they reached the mouth of the tunnel, the stale air gave way to a fresh gust. She heard a roar, like the drone of distant machinery locked away in some residential building. “What’s that sound?”
He stuck his head out of the entrance. “A storm.”
She’d never been in a storm. Weather in the city was always the same. The same temperature. The same humidity. The air out here felt cold and windy, like nothing she’d experienced inside the city.
Then she heard something crack in the sky, a deafening cacophony of sound. It cracked again, and this time she felt the vibration in her breastbone. She backed into the tunnel, her hand withdrawing from his. “What was that?”
He walked back to her. “Just thunder.”
“And the drone?”
He smiled. “That’s the rain.” He took her arm gently. “C’mon.”
She let him lead her out through the opening. Rain poured from the sky, instantly soaking her hair and shirt. The wind picked up, so loud it roared. Rowan said something to her, but the wind carried it away. He leaned closer. “Let’s find some shelter!” he yelled, running out into the storm.
She followed, finding herself on a ruined street amid giant crumbling buildings that leaned on each other. Old bricks and stonework littered the decaying road. Pieces of shattered glass crunched under her feet.
Rowan ran for a recessed doorway in one of the buildings. He dashed inside and turned to wait for her, but she was mesmerized. She couldn’t help but stop and look up. Now she saw the clouds roiling above, illumed by the orange lights from the city. Behind them the huge cement barricade swept away on both sides. Inside the atmospheric shield loomed the tremendous buildings of the city.
Then it hit her. She couldn’t go back. She was on the outside now. She felt strange, floating, her anchor gone. How was she going to survive? She felt the pang of homelessness, her roots ripped away beneath her. Tearing herself from the sight of the city, she reached the recessed doorway and ran inside, joining Rowan.
“You okay?” he asked.
She peered out at the storm. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” Lightning flashed in the clouds, making the surrounding terrain go from night to day and back again. Rain gusted by in a level sheet. “I had no idea storms were so intense!” Wind whipped inside the doorway, so powerful it pushed her backward.
He gave a mirthless laugh. “I hate to tell you, but this is a break in the storm.”
She faced him.
“It’s going to get a lot worse.” He took the satchel off his shoulder and placed it on the ground, crouching down beside it. “Listen. I have to leave. But you’re going to be okay.” He started pulling things out of his satchel and stacking them on the floor.
She stared at him. “What?” Panic filled her. He was her lifeline, the only way she’d been able to get out of the city.
“Where I’m going . . . it’s dangerous. You can’t come.”
“More dangerous than what we just went through?”
He lowered his head, then looked up at her with regretful eyes. “Yes. I’m afraid it is. I can’t bring you with me.” He took her hand again. “You can do this. You can survive.” He dug through his bag. “Look, I’ve got some food here, and a bottle of water and a filter to collect more.” He reached into his pack and pulled out an aluminum bottle and a little filter and hose. He handed them to her. “And here are some MREs.”
“MREs?” she asked.
“Meals Ready to Eat,” he explained. “They taste pretty bad, I won’t lie. But they get the job done.” He handed her all the rations he had.
“You’ve got to keep some for yourself!” she insisted, handing them back.
He pushed her hand away gently. “I can get more. And so can you. Do you have a PRD?”
“I do. I was told it couldn’t be traced.”
She pulled it out, and Rowan took it, flipping it over and removing the back. He whipped out a small tool and removed the circuitry board. “Damn. You’re not kidding. Never seen one like this. It doesn’t even have a slot for a tracking chip.” He put it back together and turned it on. Pulling up the map function, he waved his hand through the floating display, scrolling to an area about thirty-six miles away. “Go here. It’s an old weather shelter, built a long time ago when the megastorms first hit. You’ll find a place to sleep, a water purification system, and lots of MREs to replenish your supply.” He typed in something else. “Put in this code when you get there.”
She watched him enter it, feeling hopeless and lost, then dug around in her tool bag and pulled out the fried flash burster. “Any chance this will work again?”
He took it from her and turned it over, then used his tool to open the casing. The circuitry and electricity generator were fused as one. “Sorry. This thing is done for.”
She decided to take a chance. “Have you heard of the Rovers?”
He snapped his gaze up to her. “Not since I was a kid. They were the ones who allegedly built the network of weather shelters, but I don’t think they’re around anymore. No one has seen them, anyway. We’ve all wondered, though. I grew up, moving from
