Page 88 of Us Deadly Few

When the world ended, something within us died too.

Khalani’s eyes flickered across the tattered buildings, her heart pounding as they stood exposed beneath the Gateway Arch sign.

The clear moon cast a cold, silvery glow over them, cutting through the inky darkness.

The vast emptiness of the city pressed around her, and Khalani’s pulse was a relentless drumbeat ever since her conversation with Takeshi.

He stood off to the side, arms crossed as he methodically scanned the ruined city. His expression was withdrawn and closed off, reverting back to his distant, brooding self. But Takeshi’s words kept spinning like a cycle in her mind.

What would it be like to be his?

They’d be constantly at each other’s throats.

Irritating each other to no end.

And yet, the idea didn’t entirely repulse her. It lingered like a dangerous spark.

“Where is this guy?” Serene muttered beside her.

A sharp crack suddenly resounded from several feet behind them.

They immediately turned, raising their weapons.

A large figure carrying a lantern appeared. Khalani and Serene recoiled, feet shuffling back from the two-legged figure with no face, only a green, plastic shield covering its head and large body.

“Relax. It’s Spade.” Brock stepped forward, though Khalani noticed his fingers tightening around the blade.

The strange figure stopped and lifted the lantern, carefully scanning each of their shocked faces before settling on Brock.

“Where are your radiation suits?” A deep, synthesized voice echoed from the man.

“We don’t need them anymore,” Brock answered.

“What the hell are you talking about?” The figure took a shaky step back.

“That’s why I got arrested, Spade,” Brock explained, lifting his free hand to calm him. “I was attacked by a tribe on the surface without suits during my last run. There’s no radiation on the surface anymore.”

Spade remained silent for a long time.

He then approached slowly, circling each of them with the lamp held up to their faces. “Any nausea, fever, disorientation, diarrhea, or hair loss?”

“No, Spade.” Brock sighed, exasperated. “But we’re going to start losing our hair the longer we stand here.”

But Spade shook his head, continuously muttering, “It can’t be true.”

“There’s a lot the government’s been keeping from us.” Brock’s voice turned cold. “We have much to discuss.”

“Clearly.” Spade looked between each of them. “Before I take you to Hermes, you must know that discretion is key to our group’s survival. The soldiers and the Hermes government wouldn’t hesitate to line us up in front of a firing squad if they catch wind of rebellion.” The synthesized voice deepened, a deadly edge creeping in.

“Trust isn’t given freely in Hermes. It’s earned,” Spade continued. “We have eyes everywhere—people you’ll never meet, see, or hear. Cross us, even once, and you’ll have a bullet in your skull faster than you can say blackjack. Do I make myself clear?”

He waited for each of them to verbally respond “Yes” before nodding.

“Then let’s go.”

***

Spade led them down a narrow alley, where he pried open a rusted grate in the ground. The pitch-black hole made Khalani’s hair stand on end. She almost turned around when Spade declared they needed to jump inside.

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