Though she couldn’t make out what it was, she had the distinct impression that it could see her perfectly.
Panic welled up inside her. The shadow grew taller, leaning over a boxy shape on the floor. She started moving again, hurrying toward a dim hole she could see in the wall.
The thing on the far end of the building started shoving debris aside more carelessly, making its way toward her. She still couldn’t make out if the shapes were human or not. But she could definitely feel eyes on her. She ran.
Leaping over debris, bag clutched tightly to her chest, she raced toward the hole, and the shapes bounded after her. She came to the opening, smelling the fresh air rushing in from the outside. A large grate of some kind stood leaning precariously against the wall beside the opening. She got down on all fours and crawled through the aperture, then reached back through the hole and grabbed the grate. Pulling with all her strength, she slid it over the opening just before her pursuers reached it.
She stood up and ran.
The rain soaked her hair. Her frantic eyes searched the shadowed streets for cover. A short distance away, she saw a series of brown stone buildings, all with staircases leading up to their doors. She raced toward them, picking the closest one whose entryway and walls were intact.
She raced up the stairs, found the knob, and shoved open the door, slamming the thick wood behind her. Her groping hands found an old lock. She engaged it. Then she slumped down, pressing her back against the door, catching her breath. Hopefully, the things hadn’t seen where she went. There was a chance they hadn’t. Unless they could move the grate, they’d have to backtrack and leave the warehouse through some other hole.
She sat, waiting, listening. She didn’t dare move or even sling her bag off her shoulder. She clutched it, ears perked for any hint of noise outside. She didn’t hear anything except the rain pounding on the roof. Miraculously, her spot on the floor was dry. Part of one of the upper walls was missing, but the ceiling was largely preserved.
For hours she sat burning with fatigue, tensely clutching her bag.
She fought the desire to sleep, but suddenly found herself jerking awake. She checked her PRD. Four hours had passed. Relief flooded through her. They hadn’t found her.
She rummaged through her bag and took a long drink from the rainwater she’d filtered earlier that day. It was still dark out, and she didn’t want to leave this place at least until light, when she’d be able to see if those things were still out there.
Reaching up, she double-checked the lock on the door. It was still engaged. Then she slumped against the wood and closed her eyes.
* * * *
She woke to warmth on her face. An unbearably bright light shone down on her. Heat spread over her entire body. Through the empty place in the upper wall the sun gleamed. It was the first time she’d seen it in weeks. She got to her feet, finding her clothes dried. The floor around her steamed as the sun hit it. Normally she preferred stormy days, when the gray clouds bubbled above New Atlantic’s shield. But she was very grateful to see the sun. She laid out her PRD and headlamp to recharge in a pool of light. In a few minutes they beeped, and she put them back in her bag. Willoughby still hadn’t sent her a message with a lead on the Rovers.
She stepped outside, bombarded by a wave of humidity. After checking up and down the ruined street, she didn’t see any sign of movement. She staggered outside, struggling to breathe the heavy air. Yesterday it had been chilly, but today was twice the temperature. She checked the direction of the weather shelter on her PRD and headed that way. She took off her jacket, folded it up, and placed it inside the bag. The sun burned her scalp as she walked. She didn’t have a hat, and she didn’t want to put the parka back on in this miserable heat.
She walked in the shadow of crumbled buildings whenever she got the chance, trudging along the cracked sidewalk as the pavement shimmered. Tar ran in little rivulets down the asphalt, sticking to her boots. Having to squint made her head ache. As the day wore on, the oppressive air began to smell. It reeked of death and decay, of rotten things decomposing in the sewers below. She gagged. Stopping in the shade of an old stone building, she took a long drink out of her water bottle. She was going through it too fast today. If it didn’t rain again soon, she’d have to find another source of water, but she hadn’t seen so much as a water storage facility since she left. She realized that she had no idea what an antique water storage facility would even look like. She could have walked past dozens and not known it.
She trudged on, feet swelling and burning in her boots. Her shirt clung to her as rivers of sweat trickled down her back.
As the afternoon wore on, the inevitable happened: She ran out of water.
She stopped, sitting down under the protection of another stone façade. This had the letters B-A-N-K carved in stone above the door. She could feel the building’s warmth radiating upward.
In the west, more clouds accumulated. One swelled higher than the others, a puffy white tower. The wind met her, carrying with it now familiar scent of rain.
She picked herself up and continued toward the shelter, keeping an eye on the weather.
As she walked, more clouds clustered on the horizon, forming dark gray layers that
