by Z Brewer
With a deep breath, I stepped forward into the fog, moving slow and sure. It had to work. If I kept the cord taut, I’d be certain I was still heading in the same direction. Twenty steps in, I glanced over my shoulder, but could only make out about three feet of cord. The fog was that dense. I kept moving, each step more determined than the last.
Then, my heart in my throat, I saw a shape in the distance. Shapes that became clearer with every step. Buildings. Trees. A stop sign.
A stop sign with the remnants of a broken extension cord tied and taped to its post.
A stop sign that it was impossible for me to be standing in front of.
Panic welling up inside me, I looked down at the cord around my waist and followed the taut tether with my eyes, into the gloom. Something had bitten off the end that had been tied to the sign. That same something was holding it now and could yank me into the haze at any second. My fingers flew as I ripped the duct tape off and untied the knot. I was almost free when the cord fell limply to the ground.
A scream readied itself in my lungs, but I swallowed it and released myself from the bonds of the extension cord, stumbling away from the wall of fog. This was Brume. I was still in Brume.
And Brume didn’t want me to leave.
By the time I found Lia, my hands had finally stopped shaking. But only just. She was outside an old warehouse, kneeling next to a small campfire—one that she’d built the way I’d taught her, and Kai had taught me, with the sticks forming a cone and plenty of kindling tucked underneath. By the look of it, she’d only just coaxed it to life. A blond guy around our age stood next to her. I didn’t recognize him—a notion that set my nerves on edge. There were maybe a thousand people left in Brume. I may not have known them all by name, but I certainly recognized their faces when I saw them. Still, it wasn’t the newcomer that I was urgently concerned about. Kicking dirt onto the small flames, I stomped on the ashes, extinguishing them. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing? Christ, you’re going to get us all killed!”
“Hey. I’m Caleb.” New Guy stepped forward as he spoke, but I ignored him.
“Lia, you know you can’t build a fire out in the open like this. What, are you trying to attract danger?”
“She was just helping me.” His words were an attempted explanation, but he wasn’t the person I wanted answers from.
Lia was still kneeling by the firepit, not looking up at me, not speaking to me.
“Well?”
Her eyes were daggers when she at last met mine. She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder and picking up her crossbow with her free hand. Four arrows poked out of the leather quiver on her thigh. Last time I’d seen her she’d had six. “You don’t know everything about survival, Quinn.”
“I know that people who build fires out in the open don’t survive long. Isn’t that enough?” I thought she knew that too. It seemed she had yesterday. What was so different today? Had she finally given up on hope completely? Had she wanted something to kill her?
“I think we should all just calm down and start this conversation over.” New Guy flashed me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Caleb.”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time.” I looked at his hand and met his eyes. I didn’t know him, so I didn’t trust him. What if he was a spy sent from one of the gangs, or a new type of monster we’d yet to encounter? Caleb cleared his throat and dropped his hand, his fragile smile weakening. He cast an uncertain glance at Lia.
With a begrudging sigh, she took it upon herself to introduce me. “Caleb, this is Quinn.”
I kept my hand at my side and looked at him, sizing him up. He was nothing special. He’d be out of our lives faster than he’d entered them, for sure. After all, he was baggage. He was deadweight. His shirt and hands were covered with dried blood. He had no supplies—not even a weapon—and there was a haunted look in his eyes that pegged him as someone who needed someone else to keep him alive. A guy like him wouldn’t last a week on his own—which begged the question of where he’d been before joining Lia’s side by the fire, and who’d been taking care of him. He’d have to find someone else to look after him now. Lia and I just weren’t the babysitting type. Unless . . .
What if he’d come through the fog? If he had . . . if he had gotten into Brume . . . that meant we could get out. Hope welled up inside of me, but I pushed my questions down for the moment. Turning my attention back to Lia, I said, “Just tell me what you were thinking, building a fire out in the open like that.”
Her breathing was louder, showing her frustration—and maybe her embarrassment, I couldn’t be sure. “We were safe. I checked around, listened. There was nothing. No one. No growls, no anything. Besides, Caleb wanted to learn how.”
“I’m sure Caleb would’ve learned just as effectively in that warehouse building or something. It was reckless, Lia. You could’ve died.” The last word hung heavily in the air between us. I scanned the area for a good place to make camp. No way I’d risk staying inside the warehouse building nearest us now. Not with that campfire only just extinguished. But there was another not far from where we stood, on the edge of the water. “Let’s get somewhere safe before something notices us.”
The air felt thick, almost muggy, as we made our way—me leading, Lia taking up the rear, and Caleb nestled carefully between us. The usual chill had diminished for a moment. Maybe that meant the sun would peek its way out soon. Maybe it meant nothing. You couldn’t trust anything in Brume.
Caleb double-stepped to catch up with me. His thumbs were in his front jean pockets. He wore a humble expression that irritated me for no sensible reason I could point to. “I’m sorry if I caused any problems,” he said.
“It’s okay. You’re not the one who caused them.” I threw a glance over my shoulder at Lia, who was keeping a watchful eye on the dark spaces between buildings. “I haven’t seen you around before, Caleb. Where’d you come from?”
He wet his lips and lowered his eyes, his muscles tensing. I’d struck a nerve. “It’s kind of a long story.”
With a shrug, I said, “All I’ve got in this world, Caleb, are Lia, this bat, and time. If you feel like talking about it, I’m listening.”
Caleb pursed his lips but didn’t speak. So much for getting to know one another.
The side door to the warehouse was blocked with an old propane tank and some boards—remnants, maybe, of a past visitor’s attempt at securing the place—but the big overhead door in front was clear of debris and partially open. Before I knelt, I took a look around just to be sure I was clear. Lia gave me a confident nod. She’d have my back, like always. Kneeling down, I peered inside. The space was large and open. Light sifted in through the small windows near the ceiling. Paint was peeling off the walls. At the center of the room was a pile of ashes, but it looked old, as if whoever had built that fire hadn’t been back since. I dropped my bat to the ground and slid underneath the rusty door. Once I was in, I grabbed my bat, stood, and listened.
Silence.
But silent didn’t mean safe.
The room appeared empty. No shadows dark enough to worry about. No indication that Rippers had ever been inside. My footfalls were quiet on the cracked cement floor as I circled the perimeter for signs of danger. The interior office door was rusted shut, and all I saw when I peered through the glass was dust-covered office furniture. From behind me, a soft creak reached my ears, sending goose bumps over my skin. I whipped around, bat in hand.
But I found nothing there to fight.
Perplexed, I held still and listened once again, my eyes sweeping over the large space. At the far end of the warehouse was another door. It stood slightly ajar and creaked as it opened an inch before closing again. The tightness in my chest released some. A breeze. It was just a breeze. I was pretty certain. But I had to make sure.
Lia and Caleb were still outside, following a system Lia and I adhered to. One of us would stand guard while the ot
her scoped out a location. There was nothing in here but me and my bat.
The warehouse was big, but it felt like no time had passed before I reached the door. It was covered in rust. I watched it for a moment, waiting, wondering what might be lurking on the other side of it. Finally, it moved as it had before. Opening slightly. Closing again. With my left hand, I reached out to push it open, my bat clutched in my right, ready to swing. My palm pressed metal and I shoved, my heart hammering in my ears as the door swung wide.
The door led outside, where there were no monstrous creatures trying to get in. Only gray and fog and gloom. The only sound to reach my ears was that of water lapping at the shore. The handle was cool in my hand as I pulled the door shut, twisting the dead bolt until I heard the click that told me it was locked. It was a sturdy door. Odds were, it would hold. Maybe not against a Ripper, but the strength of a door was the least of our concerns if a Ripper came looking for us.
I slipped my fingers into my mouth and whistled, signaling Lia. She and Caleb slipped under the big warehouse door with ease, carrying with them some of the boards that had been outside. Lia pulled down on the door, but it was too much for her to close by herself. By the time I’d reached her side, she and Caleb had finished the job. We were safe now. Well, safer than we had been.
I nodded to the wood they’d carried in, bitterness in my tone at Lia’s recklessness. “Wanna build a fire now?”
Lia shot me a look that I knew well. One that meant stop. I broke a couple of the boards into pieces, and Lia got started on the fire. The cone was solid, but she sat back with a frown. “We need kindling.”
“I’ll go.”
Lia and I looked at Caleb, who shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Some free advice? Never travel anywhere without a weapon. I’ll go.” I’d intended my tone to be kind, but it came out sharp.
“No need. I just remembered I found this this morning.” Lia pulled a cotton bandanna from her knapsack and stuffed it beneath the firewood before digging out a pack of matches as well. She removed one and struck it against the pack. The small flame burst into life, and she fed it the cloth, which soon caught the wood. In no time, we had a healthy campfire and settled around it. My bat was lying close to my side. Lia’s crossbow was inches from her hand. Experience had taught us to be prepared for anything—which made me again question why the hell she’d taken the risk of building a fire outside.
The flames crackled. Small embers popped free and landed on the concrete. I watched the fire for a while, marveling at the beauty of the living element. There were so few consistently beautiful things here, but I could always count on fire. Shaking free of my thoughts, I looked at Caleb. “I’m ready to hear the long story of where you came from anytime now. So why don’t you get started?”
“Jesus, Quinn, what’s gotten into you today?” Lia looked annoyed and tired of my bullshit. And it was bullshit. I had to give her credit for noticing. “I already asked him about it yesterday, and he said he wasn’t ready to talk about it. Give the guy a break.”
I held my hands up in apology. It wasn’t an authentic one and she knew it. “I’m just curious.”
“You’re being a jerk.” She was right. I was. She must have seen the acknowledgment in my eyes, because the look in hers softened, as did her tone. For a moment, it felt like it was just us two again. “Look, just because you didn’t like that I’d started a fire out in the open doesn’t mean you get to be an ass all day. I know you were scared for me. But sometimes your concern shoots out of your mouth like bullets. Caleb didn’t force me to do anything. So be nice, okay?”
A lump formed in my throat. I hated that I’d hurt her. I hated more that it hadn’t been the first time. Nodding, I choked out, “I’ll try. It’s just . . . it’s hard to trust someone if you don’t know their story.”
“It’s okay, Lia. I don’t mind. Really. I just have to figure out where to begin.” A far-off look had begun creeping into his eyes—one that set me on edge. It might not have been so unnerving if he weren’t covered in dried blood that had clearly been there for days. It made it all the more unsettling that I didn’t see any wounds. Which meant it had to be someone—or something—else’s blood. Blood he hadn’t washed away. “My parents were . . . well . . . to put it mildly, they were really protective of our family.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “And if you remove the ‘mild’ filter?”
“They were survivalists. Had a bunker and everything, tons of supplies. ‘Just in case,’ they said. I never asked, ‘Just in case what?’ but from the conversations I overheard growing up, it was the government they were concerned about—that and societal collapse. When the, uh, power shut off, they moved us all into the bunker to live.”
He glanced at me and paused, as if waiting for me to acknowledge that that was a long time ago. I didn’t. “Is the bunker in Brume?”
“Of course it is.” After clearing his throat, he continued. “They had their theories as to what had happened, but they just wanted to protect us from whatever might be on the outside of that hatch. We lived down there for years. Ate, slept, bathed, exercised. You name it. Only Dad ever left the bunker. They said it just wasn’t safe.”
Lia was looking at him with an amount of concern I hadn’t often seen in her expression. It sent a ripple of irritation up my spine. She said, “So it was just you and your parents?”
“At first. Then my sister, Kally, came along. She was a skinny little thing from birth—never really grew out of it. Cute kid too. Blond hair twisted into braids and the biggest, brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. Mom tucked her in each night telling her fairy tales with happy endings. One night, after Mom and Dad had gone off to sleep, Kally asked me if the fairy tales were true. I told her they weren’t real, but they were a nice idea.” He swallowed hard. When he spoke again, his voice was a bit raspy. “Then my four-year-old sister said, ‘I thought so. They sound too happy to be real.’”
My heart hurt. When I glanced at Lia, I saw the pain I was feeling for that little girl reflected in her expression as well. For a moment, there was no sound but the crackling of the flames.
“I couldn’t let this sweet little girl believe that happiness was this unattainable thing. I’m her big brother. I’m supposed to take care of her. So later that night, I did the unthinkable. I opened the hatch and climbed out of the bunker.” He took a deep breath. It rattled when it left his lungs. His fingers were trembling at the memory. “I just wanted to bring her a present. Like a bouquet of wildflowers, maybe, or a toy of some kind. Whatever I could find. I was willing to risk my life against whatever our parents were afraid of, for the sake of Kally’s happiness. Only . . .”
“Something came after you?” I hadn’t realized that I’d been sitting forward, fully immersed in his tale, until after I spoke. I didn’t want to care, didn’t want to feel anything but mistrust for the guy who’d just wandered his way into my and Lia’s collective life—but it was difficult not to.
“No. I left just fine. Found Kally a small baby doll—a bit tattered, but the perfect gift to instill some hope in her.” That far-off look in his eyes returned. “When I got back to the bunker, I couldn’t figure out how the hatch door had been opened . . . or why it was so dark inside. We had lanterns with LED bulbs and an extensive supply of batteries, plus a giant crate of glow sticks. There was no reason for the darkness . . . or for the ladder to be slick as I climbed back down into the bunker. The smell . . . it was so metallic and nauseating. My hands were shaking, but I finally found a candle and a box of matches on the table to the left of the ladder. And when light spilled into the space, I saw what I had done. Their blood was everywhere, you see. No bodies. Just blood. And I . . . I . . .”
Lia wiped her eyes. Her voice was a whisper. “Oh, Caleb.”
Without a conscious effort, my mind brought Kai’s face to the front of my thoughts. His kind smile. The way he threw his head back when he laughed. He was my only brother, and he was gone forever—take
n by the horrors of Brume. I had to clear my throat to keep tears at bay. Caleb and I weren’t so different, it seemed.
“I must not have closed the hatch right when I left. Other than the blood and my missing family, not a thing was out of place. It was . . . awful. I don’t care about the supplies or the protection of the bunker . . . I’ll never go back there again.” His cheeks were wet. He wiped them with the palms of his shaking hands and said, “That was just four days ago.”
Lia gasped. Her fingers found her lips, and she shook her head in silent horror.
I wanted to tell him I was sorry about his family. I wanted to tell him that it was possible they might still be alive. I wanted to say something . . . anything. But I couldn’t find any words worth speaking. The silence stretched out until it was thin and awkward. Caleb was the one to break it.
Swallowing away his anguish for the time being, he said, “I haven’t seen much of Brume, but what I have seen tells me that you girls are strong and brave as hell. It’s a scary place.”
The corner of my mouth twitched at his presumption of my gender. It wasn’t something I’d given much thought since life in Brume had become solely about survival. Nowadays, no one cared if you were male, female, other, or nothing at all. Now all that mattered was food, shelter, weapons, and strategy.
I squeezed the handle of my bat without thought. My heart ached for the poor guy having lost his family . . . but that didn’t mean I liked him. Him or his assumption.
Lia swallowed hard and found her voice once again. “Um, Caleb? Quinn’s not a girl. Not a guy either, really. They’re kind of both. Or neither, depending on the day. Depending on a lot of things, I guess.”
“Oh.” He traced me from head to toe with his eyes, confusion blending into what seemed like understanding. I hadn’t seen that look in a long time. “Sorry. I just assumed—”
