Sovereign (Sovereign Series) (31 page)

I
make sure to keep us in the center of the road, thinking if that’s what the
savages do, there’s probably a reason.  I still hear the wolves howling
distantly and shudder to think what else waits in the darkness. 

Dylan,
I notice, squeezes the handle of the dagger so tightly his knuckles turn
white. 

“Do
you want to trade weapons?”

He
looks down at me, forcing a smile.  “No, it’s fine.”

“I
think we should pick up the pace.  We’re losing sunlight.”  I survey the area
and let go of his hand to jog.  He keeps up easily. 

Somewhere
behind us, another noise fills the air, and it’s not the wolves.  It’s a higher
pitched, shrill sound, seeming to come from high above.

The
sounds of our boots on the pavement echo through the street, bouncing off the
tall buildings on either side.  The shrieks become louder, the sources growing
closer.  A panic surges through me as I finally recognize it--birds. 

I
glance over my shoulder at the sky and don’t see any birds in flight, but I
still hear them getting closer.  As the last bit of sunlight dips behind the
horizon, my eyes adjust and focus on the surrounding buildings. 

Birds
run along the rooftops, jumping from ledge to ledge, and building to building. 
Just like the ones that attacked us in the training drill, these can’t seem to
fly. 

Dylan
and I stop in our tracks both gawking at them.  I realize this is the first
time Dylan has ever seen an animal.

“Go,”
I whisper, trying not to remember the pain from my last run-in with birds.

Dylan
doesn’t move, he just stares at them, his mouth hanging open.  I grab his arm
and squeeze hard.  “Dylan, run!”

One
foot after the other and Dylan right beside me, I sprint with everything I’ve
got toward that bridge.  I have no idea what’s on the other side--it could
still be more of the city, and more animals--but for now that’s the only goal
we have
.  Just get to the bridge.
 

When
we’re about a block from a giant street, which I presume to be the highway Tyce
spoke of, I notice the birds are jumping to lower ledges, getting closer to the
ground.  If they land on the street, I know we can outrun them, so there’s no
way they can hurt us. 

 I
look over my left shoulder while drawing my weapon, and when I look back, Dylan
is tripping over something in the road.  When he hits the ground, a bird dives
off a ledge toward Dylan. 

I
aim the gun and pull the trigger.  The bird goes limp, falling next to Dylan’s
head.  He covers his head, knife still in hand then jumps to his feet and leads
the way to the bridge.

More
birds dive after us but miss, hitting the ground behind us.  They scream and
wail the most unnerving sounds I’ve ever heard, but they grow quieter.  I don’t
look back, but I can tell we’re losing them. 

In
the corner of my eye, I notice a creature on four legs coming out of the
shadow, but it ducks away when it sees us. 

When
we hit the highway and the buildings are behind us, I breathe a sigh of relief,
but I’m still not ready to stop running.  And I probably won’t until we’re long
out of this city.

We
cut left and jog toward a yellow bridge suspended by metal cables.  Only a
little water wets the ground in the river below, but from the embankments, I
assume the water used to be much deeper. 

Partway
through the bridge, we slow to a steady jog, but keep moving.  I keep my weapon
drawn, and Dylan keeps his hand firm around his blade.

“What,”
he huffs.  “Were those?”

“Birds,
I guess.”  I look up at the metal cords that run along the framework of the
bridge.  I see shadows of things perched on them, but they aren’t moving.  If
they’re birds, I don’t think they’re the same kind.

“Aren’t
birds supposed to fly?”

“Must
be mutated.  I don’t think they can spread their wings.”  With that thought, I
pick up the pace again.  I don’t want to risk them catching up.

Halfway
across the bridge, the road is shattered and we leap over cracks and holes. 
The farther we get, the bigger the holes get.  It slows us tremendously, but
I’m confident the walking birds aren’t following anymore, or if they are, they
can’t keep up.

When
we get a little farther, the road has been blown out completely, and the gap is
far too wide to jump over.  I stuff the gun back in my pants.  “We have to
climb.”

“Perfect.” 
I don’t think I’ve ever heard sarcasm in his voice before, but it’s kind of
refreshing.

Dylan
stuffs the knife in a cargo pocket by his knee and grabs a giant cable on the
side of the bridge, testing it for stability, and begins to climb while I
inspect a separate cluster of cables nearby.  Along the length of the bridge,
these cables are bunched in fours, and seem to be made of steel.  Plenty
sturdy.  At the top, the cables are anchored into a pipe that rises and falls
in two giant peaks.  We’re in between the two, where the support beam dips
lowest.

I
latch onto one and begin to climb, too.  It stings my hands after a few reps
upward, and I use my feet to help carry my weight.  Glancing down at the ground
too frequently, Dylan labors up the cables next to mine, holding two of them
like the sides of a ladder without rungs, as opposed to my technique of
climbing a single cable like a rope.  I don’t know if he has ever climbed
anything, but he handles his weight well.  The closer we get, the more the dark
shadows come into view.  They are definitely birds, but I have no idea what
kind.

“Stop
looking down.” 

He
laughs nervously.  “Sure.  Okay.”

An
eternity later, I reach the top about a minute before Dylan does.  A bird rests
directly above me on a thin piece of cable.  It looks at me for a long moment,
and I hold my breath, anxious for its reaction to me.  Then the bird turns its
head away, as if deciding I’m not a threat.  It got up here somehow, so I
assume that this kind can fly.  I’m glad it’s not aggressive like the walking
ones.

“Need
a minute to rest?” 

“No,
let’s just get this over with,” he huffs. 

I
nod and reach for the pole that the cables are bolted into.  Inch by inch, I
slide across the metal and hold onto the next cable I come to and rest.  It
gets harder as we move because the brace goes upward from where we first got
on, gradually leading us higher toward a support tower.  It seems to go against
logic to go farther from the ground, but it’s our only option.  Moving forward
means moving up.  We’re still over the gaping hole, so I keep going.  My hands
ache, every knuckle on fire.  Dylan weighs twice as much as me, so I can’t
imagine how hard it is to hold himself up by his fingertips. 

“You
still with me?”  I don’t risk looking back from such a vulnerable position.

He
grunts.  “Always.”  A shaky breath escapes him.  “Wherever you go, I’ll go.”

We
pause at every cable we come to, wrapping our legs and elbows around them and
resting our hands.  It takes five more cables before I’m hanging above pavement
again, and it just so happens to be the highest cable, right before the support
tower, so it’s a long way to the ground.  I wipe sweat from my brow, then head
down.  Dylan slides across the final divide, so I look up at him while I shimmy
downward.

Just
before he reaches the cable, one hand slips and he dangles by four fingertips. 
I gasp and reach out as if I could catch him if he falls.  Before his remaining
fingers give way, his other hand latches onto the cable and I gasp, reeling
from the sudden panic.  He mumbles something under his breath I can’t quite
make out.

The
climb down is easy, but I slip a few times and my hands sting when I catch my
grip again.  Once I’m about four feet off the ground, I give up the shimmying
and just let go, landing hard and dipping forward to catch my balance.

I
move out of the way while Dylan climbs the last of the distance down, and he
doesn’t jump until he’s a foot off the ground.  Immediately, he drops to his
knees, his hands extending across the street.  His head dips between his arms
while he breathes heavily.  I rub his sweat-covered back to comfort him.

The
rest of the bridge is a breeze by comparison, and eventually it leads us onto a
street that goes through an area with tons of houses, seemingly crammed in
side-by-side in rows.  Most are piles of rubble, with a few that are
fire-damaged beyond repair.  Dilapidated chain-link fences barely stand, and
the sidewalks are crumbled. 

About
a block later, the neighborhood ends abruptly with pure destruction.  Rubble
and debris litter the ground as far as the darkness allows us to see, and
literally not a single building still stands before us.  The devastation takes
me back, reigniting the pain I felt when I found the family with the little
girls.  It’s only when Dylan takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze,
that I keep moving.  With The City behind us, we head straight out from the
bridge like Tyce instructed.

“You
sure about this?” Dylan finally asks after starting to speak and stopping about
a hundred times.

“About
what?”

“Going
where the guy said.”  I notice he doesn’t use Tyce’s name.  “I don’t know if we
should trust him.”

“He
said the same thing about you.”  I take the opportunity to rest, and hunch
down, steadying myself with my fingertips on the ground.  Crossing the bridge
has taken a lot out of me, but I can’t say that’s the only thing slowing me
down.  “Usually I can tell when people are lying to me.  And I don’t think he
was.”  I look at him to see how he’ll respond.  But he doesn’t.  “What was it
you said when we were up there?”

He
considers it for a moment.  “‘Wherever you go, I will go.’  It’s from the
Bible.”

“You’ve
read the Bible?”

“Yeah,
I...saw it on your device when you had me fix it, and I was curious.  I had a
Bible on my reader, too.”

“How
does the rest of it go?”

“‘Don’t
ask me to leave you and turn back.’”  He kneels beside me, copying my posture. 
“‘Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live.  Your people will
be my people, and your God will be my God.’  Ruth said it.”

“It’s
lovely.”  I push some dirt around with my fingertips, staring blankly into the
lines I draw absently.  It occurs to me that this dirt likely consists of more
than just that, so I stop.

He
kneels beside me.  “Why didn’t you stay with them?”

“They
would’ve killed you.”

“Is
that the only reason?”  He looks at the dirt I’m no longer drawing in.

I
look at him.  “I don’t know.” 

“Well,
whatever the reason, thank you.  You’ve saved my life too many times.  And you
don’t owe me that.”  I’m either too distracted to decode his message, or I
simply don’t want to. 

“You’re
welcome.”

 We
quickly find the train tracks, but a massive pile of earth just past them
catches our attention.  It’s dark, so it’s hard to judge its size.  We climb
the steep incline and when we reach the top, we’re stunned.

A
crater as far as I can see.  I have no idea how deep or wide it is.  Something
moves against my hand that I think is Dylan but when I look over, he’s not
close enough to touch.

I
bat something dark off of my hand and a slimy residue remains.  A gag rises in
my throat and I shift back on my heels to get away from whatever it was.  I
realize too late that the mound is too steep for me to lean back on and I begin
to tumble downhill.

I
roll end over end for several yards, then I finally slam into something hard
near the bottom.  A tiny pile of dirt shifts and falls onto my face along with
several slimy creatures.  I bat at them, choking and gagging on dirt and air. 
One of them touches the edge of my lip, and I go completely hysterical.  I run
as far as I can from the crater, peeling the bugs off one-by-one, my skin
stinging with each.

I
stop when I hear my own feet sloshing and instinctively drop into ankle deep
water, splashing it on my face.  The water stings, and it smells like
chemicals.  I scream and yank my shirt off.  I use it to wipe the moisture and
slime off of my face, then tip my head upside down and rake my hands through my
hair savagely to get the bugs out.  Two fall out and slip into the earth. 

Dylan
grabs one from my neck and yanks it off, lobbing it a few yards away.  I gag so
many times, I wish I would just vomit.

I
don’t know what those were, but they’re far worse than the hard bug in the
woods.  I keep batting at my hair, unconvinced I’ve gotten them all out.

“The
water,” I pant.  “It’s toxic.”

“Yeah,
I can smell it.  I think it’s because we’re so close to an impact site.”

I
shoot him a strange look.

“Where
a bomb hit.”

“Oh.” 
That makes sense. 

I
stand up straight and take a step toward where I dropped my shirt, feeling
dizzy.  My throat is tight.  When my knees go limp and almost hit the ground,
Dylan catches me.  I quickly become groggy and my thoughts are jumbled.  I
can’t remember where I am.