Page 23 of Obliterated
I narrow my eyes at him, but he doesn’t flinch, just grins at me. But he’s right about the passage deals, though…
“I think I know where to go,” I grumble, before lighting up a smoke, not missing how his gaze focuses onmymouth, either.
“Where?” he asks before swallowing, gaze darting up to meet mine again, blinking the haze away.
Yeah, noticing that as well.
“The docks. If passages are being bought, that’s where it happens.”
“You think any boatman’s gonna spill for you?”
“They’ll spill,” I say, dragging smoke deep into my lungs. “One way or another.”
I push toward the harbor, Kieran falling in at my trail, but something shifts in the air. A ripple through the crowd. It’s small at first, easy to miss if you don’t know what to look for.
But I know what to look for.
Shoulders jerk, heads snap like they heard a sound the rest of us didn’t. Bronze tags glint at their throats. The Touched. Always the first to feel it, like their nerves are tuned to some frequency the rest of us can’t hear.
Their eyes skitter skyward, and that’s what drags mine up too.
The clouds are changing. Dark, bruised, bleeding red as they roll in heavy and fast. I catch it a split second before the warning roars split the square.
The sirens.
Get inside. Get safe. Don’t. Get. Wet.
The square’s covered, mostly. There are tarps stretched between buildings, cloth nailed into crooked frames, scraps meant to keep the worst of it out. But rain and salt eats through everything eventually, and everyone knows it. The chaos kicks up fast. Stalls close with frantic hands, traders grab what theycan, kids shriek as they’re dragged under awnings and into houses.
I throw my cigarette away, grab Kieran by the arm and haul him over the cobbled street into the nearest doorway just as he nearly eats shit, tripping over those motherfucking flip-flops.
I swear to the fucking gods…
He stumbles against me, breath sharp in my ear, and I have no time to think about how that feels—hot, too close, too easy to get used to—before I shove him further inside. His eyes flash at me like he wants to protest, but I’m already gone.
Out where the tarp doesn’t reach.
I stop dead center in the square, smoke still bitter on my tongue, and tilt my head back just as the first drops fall. One lands smack dab between my eyes.
I close them, inhale deep, and let the scent hit me… Iron, rot, and something sharp enough to cut straight through me. Settling me.
The red rain. The purge that gutted the world and left it bleeding. It doesn’t scare me like it does everyone else.
It soothes me. It grounds me.
Each drop is a reminder that everything out here ends eventually, that nothing lasts.
It’s the only thing that’s ever felt right.
At least… it was.
Not until I met that golden-haired little fucker did something else managed to crawl under my skin and stay there.
I glance back toward the shop. Catch him in the doorway,Kieran. Watching me from where he’s safe under the awning, eyes wide, mouth set, like he doesn’t know whether to drag me in for safekeeping or not. Like heknowsI’m Immune, but won’t believe it until he sees it. His curls are damp from the insistent heat, plastering to his forehead, and for a second too long, I can’t tear my eyes away.
But I fucking have to.
Because sometimes, when the red rain hits you, the change can come fast. It could take mere minutes to turn Walker, but most of the time it doesn’t. Same for the Touched. Some slip straight into full Walkers the moment it soaks through their skin. It’s not common, but it’s possible. Which means I have to stay sharp.
