Page 15

AUTUMN

T he morning heat is already thick and pressing down like a force on the back of my neck.

Sweat sticks my shirt to my spine, and the air inside our crumbling shelter tastes like sun-warmed dust and rusting metal.

Shadows from broken beams stretch across the floor where we crouch in a loose circle, staring at a grimy scrap of canvas that could either hold all the answers or be a dead end.

Mars holds it up to the light filtering through the gaps.

The material is stiff with dirt, but the stitching is still intact.

“Stitching’s tactical. Maybe military? Could be old-world militia or hired mercs.

Reinforced seams, double-stitched at the edges.

Definitely not some scavenger’s coat. Could’ve come off a field jacket or reinforced cargo pants. Honestly, this could be anything.”

I lean closer. The fabric’s edge is clean, not weathered. “It’s recent. Couple weeks, max. The ends haven’t even frayed.”

Jace crouches beside me. “Here, look at this.” He flips the fabric over in Mars’s hands to inspect it. “Tear mark is diagonal. Probably ripped while running. It snagged on something, that’s for sure. But how and why? ”

“Not just snagged,” Caspian adds from beside me. He’s crouched low, but his posture is tense. “There’s a symbol here. It’s faint, but it’s there.”

I blink and lean in closer.

Sure enough, what I thought were only mud smudges now resolve into something else. A partial shape of some kind. It’s faded black and curved like an arc with jagged points fanning out along the edge.

“What is that? A sun? A compass? A weird moon?” I ask, tilting my head a little.

Jace straightens, and his expression sharpens. “Wait. I’ve seen something like that.”

My gaze snaps to him. “Where?”

He grabs his binoculars and rises. “This morning when I was scanning the area. There’s an old train station, about three miles northeast. I glimpsed a weathered sign with a symbol that looked similar. Distance made it hard to tell.”

My fingers trace the symbol and I wondering what craziness we’re about to embark on. Something about this feels dark and dangerous.

Jace frowns, adjusting the binoculars to look in the opposite direction. “And…southwest. Near an abandoned checkpoint. There’s another sign. It has a general shape, but I can’t confirm if it matches. We’ll need to get closer.”

“Dregs don’t wear uniforms,” Mars says, still frowning down at the fabric. “And they sure as hell don’t do coordination.”

“Yeah. They’re too much of a mess,” Jace scoffs.

Mars rubs his chin. “Whoever this belonged to, they weren’t scavenging. They weren’t some run-of-the-mill dregs, either. This attack? It was organized. Someone’s backing them. Supplying them.”

The knot in my gut tightens. “You think it’s part of something bigger?”

Mars doesn’t answer right away, but his gaze turns distant and his expression somber. “Our colony had a leader once. We were under his thumb until he spiraled. He let some things slip in his final moments before he died.”

“That’s crossed my mind, too,” Jace says.

Mars runs a hand down his face and his shoulders sag at the memory. “He said there was a threat out there bigger than him. One of his last loyalists mentioned something about trading. Things like weapons, supplies, and even people.”

“People,” I echo. “You don’t think…”

“Unfortunately, I do, but we won’t give up,” Mars reassures me.

Jace lowers his binoculars. “If those symbols match what’s on this fabric, we have two potential locations to investigate. The train station might be easier to approach unseen, but the checkpoint could have more information if it’s still in use.”

“Then we’ll check out both,” Mars says.

A beat of silence stretches between us until Jace breaks it again. “Whatever this symbol is, whatever this fabric belonged to, we’ll watch out for it. Anyone wearing this stitching, carrying gear like this. Whether it’s a person or a rotter, we’ll find them.”

He pockets his binoculars and wipes his palms on his pants before running a hand through his hair. I catch the flicker when his fingers brush the part of his brow where the old scar cuts through the dark hair of his eyebrow.

He turns his attention to me. “Autumn, I need to check your wrist and redo your bandage.”

“Sure.” I rise and brush dirt from my knees before pulling Mars’s flannel tight around me in the crisp morning air. I’m not sure I’ll ever give this back. It’s far more comfortable than I expected.

I follow Jace to the back of the shelter where the light slants gold.

Jace digs through his bag and sets out first aid supplies.

I hold my arm out and let him unravel the bandage.

His touch is careful and warm, far different from his rough and sometimes cold demeanor. Nothing about this man is predictable.

“Thank you for everything. For how hard you work to keep us safe. I’ve noticed you don’t seem to sleep at night,” I say, trying to soften his gruff exterior.

He blinks as though the words catch him off guard, then he looks away. “It’s what I do.”

“Right.”

Ignoring the appreciative comment, he returns his focus to my wrist. He turns it over in his hands. “Does it still hurt at all?” He applies gentle pressure to the bruised joint, and I wince.

“Less than before, but yes.”

He nods. “It’s healing. Kind of like how Mars and Caspian are healing with having you around.”

I blink at that. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t look at me at first, only continues wrapping the bandage, but slower this time. “I’ve seen the way they act around you. How they talk. Smile more and fight less. They’ve been different in a way I’ve never seen before. You bring something out in them.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“No,” he admits, then meets my gaze. “But I need you to be honest. Don’t play with their heads. Don’t lead them on. I don’t know what the endgame will be, but they’re already prepared to do whatever it takes to help you as it is.”

I bristle at the implication. “I can’t imagine hurting them. They’re both good men. All three of you are. That’s plain to see. And that’s really saying something, because you’re truly the first decent humans I’ve met since the dead rose.”

“Agreed. They are good men, both of them. That’s rare in this world, and they’re not used to softness anymore. They’re not used to someone seeing them at their most vulnerable and then sticking around.”

“Jace,” I say, my voice tight. “I don’t use people. You came out here for me. I didn’t go searching for any of you. You guys are helping me find my sister. You think I’m taking that lightly?”

Once my wrist is wrapped to his satisfaction, he lets go of my hand and crosses his arms over his chest. “I think people survive by attaching to anything that feels like comfort. I’ve seen it before. That comfort can turn dangerous.”

My pulse spikes. “What kind of guys do you think I go after? Anyone who’s breathing and is kind to me for five whole minutes?”

“All I’m saying is to be careful.” His jaw flexes, and his eyebrow furrows. That scar’s a damn exclamation point. Makes him look a hundred times more lethal.

“No. You’re judging me. Even though I’ve stayed away from other people for a whole year now. How dare I show even an ounce of compassion?” My good hand fists by my side, digging my nails into my palm.

His shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t deny it.

I take a step back. “What about you, Jace? What sort of women do you go after? You bark orders, keep your distance, and watch like you’re guarding something.

You’ve got more walls than I’ve ever imagined possible.

Are you only drawn to women you can boss around who won’t push back?

I didn’t realize the rotter-pocalypse became a dating show.

I’m dealing with actual shit here, in case you missed it. ”

His mouth sets into a grim line, and his voice lowers. “This isn’t about me.”

“Oh, I think it is. You said it yourself. Comfort turns dangerous, right? ”

His jaw clenches, and he rubs his scar. “Yeah, well, you’re not the only one with shit going on.”

My voice softens, even though I still think he deserves my full wrath. “How did you get your scar, Jace?”

His eyes flick up, then he turns his back on me. “I’ve got shit to do.”

He slips through the large chunk missing in the wall and walks away.

I watch him retreat, frustration and questions churning inside me. And beneath it all…something else I don’t want to name.

Voices carry over from the other guys buried in conversation, oblivious to whatever went down here.

And I’m left wondering if the most haunted man in this group is the one too stubborn to admit it—or too afraid I’ll see through him.

By the time I return to the others, the plan is already in motion.

The guys have decided to split up and start scouting for signs, clues, or even for people wearing that same strange fabric. We need to see if these symbols match, and find out what’s going on. We can’t afford to waste more time.

They tell me we’ll break into pairs to cover more ground, but if we find something, we’re to come back to regroup before engaging.

Somehow, I end up with Jace. No one will admit whose idea it was.

Caspian and Mars are already disappearing east, moving in sync like they’ve done this a thousand times. I’m still watching them when Jace gives a sharp nod west — silent, as usual, even when giving directions.

As we gear up to leave, movement catches my eye .

A flash of brown and black fur between the trees.

“Luna…”

She’s half-hidden behind a thick oak, watching us with those amber eyes. For a moment, our gazes lock, and I swear she recognizes me. I think she’s going to come closer.

But when Jace shifts beside me, Luna turns and melts back into the shadows, gone as quietly as she appeared.

“Luna,” I call softly, but there’s no response.

“What’s going on?” Jace asks, scanning the area I stare at.

“There’s this dog... Never mind.”