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Cy’s engine cut after she pulled off to the fueling station, Noel parked alongside her and worried his lip. “Something’s off here.”
“No shit,” she breathed, hopping off and starting up to the station door. It swung inward as Noel and Grey climbed off and glanced around before creeping after her, not getting very far when she backed up and gagged. “What the fuck is that smell?”
Noel reared back at the sickening sweet stench that assaulted him and pulled his tee-shirt up over his nose. “Watch the bikes, Grey,” he ordered, pushing past Cy as she loosened the bandana around her wrist to tie around her face.
Dust motes cascaded downward in the rays of sunlight trickling through the windows. Washed out blue walls bore old-fashioned signs tacked or nailed to every centimeter of free space behind the counter. Sheets hung in the door frames, obscuring his view of the back of the shop.
“Hello?” he called, braving to pull down the collar of his shirt for a second.
The floorboards creaked as Cy shifted next to him. “Something tells me we’re not going to get a response,” she whispered.
She started around the counter, each step a scream in the deafening silence. Noel glanced over his shoulder to Grey rubbing his arms outside, his head on a swivel before he braved to follow her.
Cy drew back one of the curtains, straight to a locked storage cage and a staircase.
“Owner’s apartment?” Noel guessed as she went for the lock, giving it a tug.
“Probably. I’d guess the key’s upstairs unless they took off with it…”
Noel’s brows knit together when he caught sight of the locked, wire-enclosed pantry of canned goods. “Why leave all th—” He bit his tongue, feeling goosebumps trail along his arms when Cy’s gaze met his.
She jogged up the steps, throwing caution into the wind, and he ran after her. The smell slammed into him the moment he hit the second floor, eyes watering while Cy buried her face in her elbow.
On the floor laid a man on his side. Stiff. Bloodshot eyes. Blue lips. Dead.
Cy took a step back. “Fuck.”
“What the hell happened to him?” Noel said through a cough. His eyes darted around the room, tracing untouched tabletops, neatly organized shelves, and well-worn furniture. Nothing seemingly out of place to indicate a struggle.
She shook her head. “Not sure. Poison, maybe?”
“From what?” Noel shuffled forward to peek through another doorway while Cy crouched down and began picking through the dead guy’s pockets. A woman laid face-down in the next room. “There’s another one, Cy.”
“I’m betting something fucking happened with the water supply—like back where we met. I saw that crazy fair folk bitch drop something through the fence. Some sort of moss-looking thing.” A jingle made Noel turn back around to find a set of keys in her hand. “When I tried to tell someone the night the fight broke out, they wanted to lock me up because they thought I was infected and seeing hallucinations like the others.”
He pressed his shirt collar closer to his nose as she pushed herself off the floor. “These two didn’t try to attack each other though. At least, not with the way everything looks here.”
She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s check for weapons we can take with us, refuel, and get the fuck out of here. No food. No water. Assume anything we could take for consumption could be tainted.” He grimaced as she popped back up and started for the stairs. “Bet the other doorway behind the counter leads to the cellar or something,” she muttered.
They clamored back down the stairs, and Noel’s heart sank at the sight of canned goods locked in the cabinets. Here they were, low on food, fuel, and morale, only able to strengthen one at a time at the cost of another. She jammed a small key in the fuel cabinet’s lock and pulled one of the doors free.
“Grab a canister. You and Grey can fuel up while I take a look in the other room.” Cy hoisted a stained, yellow fuel jug from the shelf and groaned. “Fuck, this sucks.”
Noel grabbed another, letting his shirt collar fall back into place and hurried to catch her. He grabbed at her canister’s handle to pry it from her grasp “Let me take it. Go find the weapons cache, and I’ll join you once we’re done.”
She nodded and disappeared behind the other curtain. He lugged the fuel around the counter before Grey spun around and hurried inside to help.
“Where’s Cy?”
That little jealous monster threatened to come loose again. “She’s looking for weapons. Help me fuel the bikes.” Guilt flooded him when Grey took one of the containers and stumbled under the weight. But he managed to get to Cy’s motorcycle anyway, once again summoning that horrible feeling Noel couldn’t shake.
“Where is everyone?” Grey whispered.
“Dead, probably.”
Grey’s canister sloshed, his face going pale. “What? I- How?”
“Two dead macharomancers upstairs,” Noel said. “No sign of a struggle. Blue lips and bloodshot eyes. Cy thinks the food or water might’ve been poisoned.” He tried not to take his eyes off the fuel gauge out of fear of wanting to comfort Grey somehow. Stop it.
