Page 61

Claire

I t started with the low hum of engines.

Barely audible over the music, they eventually grew louder, until they couldn’t be ignored.

The musicians stopped playing, and there was confused murmuring in the crowd.

It hit me that most of the residents had probably never heard a combustion engine before.

Even in the compound, only the military had non-electric engines for a few of their larger vehicles; access to biodiesel was limited and precious.

Whoever it was, it meant nothing good. I tugged on Kimmy’s hand, pulling her small frame through the crowd.

She followed, a frown creasing between her brows, one hand on her holstered pistol.

We both looked in all directions, but John and Asha were nowhere to be found.

My heart was in my throat; a sour, frantic feeling had settled in my stomach.

The feeling a rabbit might have just before its leg was crushed in a trap.

We made it out of the crowd to the other side of the dirt road.

“We need—” Kimmy began, but someone near us yelled out a warning and pointed.

On the horizon, an enormous convoy truck had appeared, approaching fast, followed by several smaller, armoured passenger trucks that I recognized as being military-issued Cave vehicles.

The only difference was that they were black—a hasty painting job, from the look of it, since bits of green still peeked out in various places.

And emblazoned on the side of each was a shining gold eye. Odessa’s Eye.

They’d come.

Kimmy saw it the same moment I did, and I found myself being sharply turned to face her. She wore her all-business face—the expression she always adopted in emergencies.

“Listen carefully,” she said. “Go down the street and find an alley to escape through. Stay out of sight, make your way into the Red Zone, and find somewhere to hide. Talk to no one. Wait for me or John. We’ll find you.”

“I can’t—” I started, but she shook her head.

“Go,” she said firmly, then pulled up the hood of my cloak. “Keep your hair covered. It’s too easy to identify you.”

I nodded. Fear gripping hold of my senses, I hastened down the street towards the nearest alley between two crumbling buildings.

Once out of sight of the main strip, I ran towards the street beyond.

I’d only just made it there when the rumble of the trucks crescendoed, signaling their arrival in the street.

A brief pause followed as I kept walking. The residential streets were mostly empty, but a couple people were outside their homes. Their looks of confusion and alarm hurt me.

“Citizens of…what is this place again, exactly?”

Jim J’s voice was unmistakable and magnified a hundred times by what must’ve been a megaphone. I quickened my pace, weaving between houses, trying to stay as hidden as I could.

“Right, the Post,” Jim J continued, and I could almost hear the eyeroll in his voice. “I’d love to give you all an introduction to my family, but I’ve come to offer you a reward. You see, I’ve lost a family member: her name is Claire Ainsley.”

My heart skipped a beat. I ducked into another alley as a couple of teenagers ran past me towards the main strip, looking frightened.

I heard Jim J provide a detailed description of me, apparently along with a photo.

He then offered a year’s supply of food, plus weapons, to anyone who handed me over .

My mouth went dry. To a compound dweller, that would’ve been generous but not outlandish. To Wastelanders, that was like winning the lottery. In an instant, no one could be trusted, and staying hidden became paramount.

There were screams, and the echo of gunshots. I could only assume that Jim J had ordered his followers into the crowd. I knew they’d fight back, but the cult was better armed and prepared. It would be ugly.

“Bring me Claire Ainsley, and my family will harm no one,” Jim J continued, his voice echoing off empty buildings. “Deliver her to me, and we’ll go in peace. Conceal her from me, however, and I will raze this settlement to the ground. You have until sundown. Choose wisely.”

I took a deep breath, trying hard not to panic.

Sunset was hours away; how could I stay hidden that long?

I had only my pistol, holstered at my hip, and the knife I kept concealed in my boot.

John had the bag with the emergency supplies in it, including ammunition.

I bit my lip, wishing desperately he were with me, but I imagined what he’d tell me to do next.

Focus, his voice said in my head. One step at a time.

I peered out from the alley, checking that no one was nearby before running across the street.

I repeated the process a couple of times, running from alley to alley, heading towards the Red Zone.

Finally, I spotted the faded red flags blowing in the breeze above the rickety wooden barricade that John had shown me.

Unsurprisingly, the sentries were gone; they had bigger fish to fry.

As soon as I’d crossed the barricade, the sound of engines filled the air again.

They were on the move, and I had only minutes until they might be on top of me.

I ran down the remains of an abandoned street, scanning the crumbling Old World buildings for somewhere decent to hide.

Rats scattered at my approach, squeaking wildly, and I took random turns onto side streets, trying to make it harder to follow me.

I finally ended up on a lonely side road, where a stout, red-brick building stood—an old community theatre. It was the only structure nearby that was mostly intact, and the engine sounds were growing closer. They may have already entered the Red Zone.

I entered through a back door that was forced open.

Inside was a sparsely furnished storeroom, mostly filled with columns of heavy plastic totes.

I pushed a couple against the outside door to barricade it, then shoved more totes against the door that led to the rest of the building.

I couldn’t do anything about the windows except stay away from them, but luckily, they were darkened by years of grime.

Sweating from the effort, I stacked more totes around a corner of the room, creating a small, boxed-in hiding spot. Then I crouched down behind them, pistol in hand, to wait. I knew I’d done my best, but a sinking feeling in my stomach told me that it wouldn’t be enough. They’d hunted me this long.

Some part of me knew I was delaying the inevitable.