Page 6

Jude

I pulled my coat tighter around myself as I picked my way through the shattered remains of the old rail yard. Rusted tracks twisted like broken bones underfoot, and the skeletal remains of cargo cars loomed in the mist.

The entrance to the tunnels yawned ahead—a mouth of blackness that seemed to swallow the morning light. I hesitated, a shiver running down my spine. I knew it was dangerous, going through the tunnels, but it took miles off my trip.

“You’ve made it this far,” I muttered to myself. “No turning back now.”

Inside, the air was damp and cold. My footsteps echoed against the cracked stone walls. Shadows clung to every surface, shifting with the flicker of my flashlight.

I kept moving, my heart hammering in my chest. Every sound—a drip of water, the distant scrape of stone—made my fingers tighten around the knife hidden in my belt. I kept my guns in my pack where I could easily reach them.

I heard a noise behind me—soft but—I whirled around, my blade drawn. Nothing.

Still, I didn’t relax. I wasn’t alone in the tunnels. I could feel it.

Pushing forward, I stumbled upon a collapsed section of the passage. Twisted metal and rubble barred my path. A low growl echoed from the darkness as I searched for a way around.

My breath hitched.

Three figures emerged from the shadows—ragged, feral, and grinning.

“Well, well,” one of them sneered. “What do we have here?”

I didn’t know what nationality he was but I barely understood him. I didn’t have to, I knew what he wanted. backed away slowly, weighing my options. Fight. Run. Survive.

I tightened my grip on the knife. I might be alone, but I wasn’t helpless.

“Come any closer,” I warned, voice low and steady, “and you’ll regret it.”

The men laughed.

I braced myself.

I wasn’t going down without a fight.

Cyclone

In the distance, I heard the echoes—a faint, distorted laugh carried through the crumbling tunnels.

I froze, every sense sharpened.

That was Jude. I know it was.

Breaking into a run, I plunged into the darkness, following the sounds. The tunnels twisted and forked, but I trusted my gut, weaving through the shadows with reckless urgency.

A scream—short, sharp—split the air.

I tore around a corner and saw her: Jude, standing her ground, knife flashing as she faced down three attackers.

Without hesitation, I charged.

The first man never saw me coming. I slammed into him, sending him sprawling. The second barely got a blade up before I disarmed him with brutal efficiency.

The third turned to flee, but I grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the wall, the impact echoing through the tunnel.

Panting, I turned to Jude.

She was breathing hard, wild-eyed but unbroken.

“I told you,” she said between breaths, “I can handle myself.”

I gave a half-smile, something fierce and proud sparking in my eyes.

“Never said you couldn’t,” I said. “Just thought you might like some backup.”

For a moment, we simply stared at each other, the space between us crackling with unspoken things.

Then Jude sheathed her knife and squared her shoulders.

“Come on,” she said. “We need to move.”

I fell into step beside her, my presence a silent promise.

This time, she didn’t walk alone.