Page 118 of Immune

A corner. A blanket. A sealed door.

A few minutes where I’m not the only thing standing between myself and the world.

Comfort.

That one is a bit obscene, but it lingers in the back of my mind like it has every right.

I gather the thermal sheet tighter for one more second before finally dropping it onto the desk, muttering, “Ready.”

Fletcher’s eyes drop to the sheet and then they flick back to the hall. “Let’s move.”

And so we move.

The west skywalk is narrower than the last one, but it’s definitely more intact. Rain lashes against the remaining glass, and Zeds have crowded the street below, drifting east, pulled by some distant metallic banging.

The sound echoes all through the city.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Doesn’t take a genius to spot a lure when they hear one, but it doesn't stop my stomach from tightening as I point out quietly, “That’s not random.”

Fletcher nods. “No, it’s not.”

“Vector?” Ewan asks, quieter now.

“Maybe,” Xeon answers, just as another bang tumbles through the street.

The Zeds shift harder east, and a path opens beneath us. Organized. Definitely deliberate. Because someone is moving the dead again.

I should focus on that. Instead, my body notices Kaito stepping onto the skywalk behind me, close enough for his scent to pierce through the panic, but far enough not to touch. It notices Fletcher’s broad back ahead. Xeon’s quiet attention. And Ewan’s listening silence. Four points. Four threats. Four anchors.

Nope. Nu-uh.

I grip my knife until my fingers ache, tearing my attention away from all four Alphas.

At the far side of the skywalk, I spy a transit station that waits, dark and half-collapsed. There’s an old sign that hangs crooked over the entrance, and it looks like it’s one sneeze from falling apart, but it’ll do as a temporary shelter.

There could be medicine there.

Maybe answers.

Maybe one more reason not to leave yet.

I keep telling myself I’ll leave soon.

At the station.

After the pilot talks.

After the rain stops.

After my blockers settle.

After NOVAC stops sounding like my father knocking from inside a locked room.