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EVERYTHING HURT.
Pain was waiting to greet Aubrey as she gradually regained consciousness. Her muscles, ligaments, joints—everything ached. Nothing hurt as much as her pounding head, but still, she was in pain.
She couldn’t pinpoint the moment when her thoughts caught up to her body’s attempts to revive. She must’ve sat up at some point, but she couldn’t recall it.
It’s not likely I slept sitting cross-legged.
She stretched, arching her stiff back, hearing with satisfaction the sympathetic cracks down her spine. Curiosity returned, drawing her attention to her surroundings. She glanced around the stark cubbyhole, hoping for a visual clue to her whereabouts.
She had no idea how she got here, nor an explanation for why she would have voluntarily sought out such a cold and clammy alcove.
Her eyes widened as jumbled images from the previous night flashed through her mind. She sought to impose control on the chaotic flashback. She needed to evaluate calmly, not react out of panic. Was it only last night, or was it longer?
She forced herself to slow down, to arrange her thoughts into sequential order. The hours of tramping through the sewers and the forest, accompanied by the mercurial Jane.
Their relief when they finally found the café. The terrifying red eye of the Soul-less, glowing as it appeared in the darkness. The brawling violence in the alley . . .
Her mind flinched away from remembering any more.
Aubrey shivered uncontrollably. Why me? It was the unanswerable question invading her thoughts whenever she stopped to collect herself.
The question was followed, as usual, by a pang of shame and guilt. Why am I feeling sorry for myself? What about Thomas and Sarah? How many people are dead because they were caught between me and the Soul-less?
She drew her legs up, clasping her arms around her knees as the horror sank in. It was overwhelming—no matter if she was asleep or awake, her living nightmare continued to unfold. She lowered her forehead to her knees, crying silently.
The left eye of the Soul-less, dominating the creature’s otherwise expressionless face. Whenever she closed her eyes, the evil red circle was there. Fixated on her.
Stop bawling, she scolded herself, drawing a quivering breath. I’ve got to be tougher than this. I owe it to the people who died to protect me. And Snake Lady can’t be far away. I don’t want her to see me like this.
Aubrey lifted her head, looking around the room a second time. She drew another deep breath, encouraged when it didn’t sound as shaky as the last, and tried to take stock of her surroundings.
By the look of things, she was back in the confusing maze of tunnels under the City. She wiped her tears away, recognizing the familiar look and feel of the place. If that hadn’t been evidence enough, an unmistakable odor confirmed her location.
She rose stiffly to her feet, pausing to rub her temples with dirty fingers. It wasn’t clear whether or not that had any effect on her pounding headache, but it gave her something to do.
She needed a plan, one of her own and not one imposed on her by Jane. Even if Snake Lady was in charge of her as the newest Runner, Aubrey resented not having any say in her future.
It would help if Jane-the-Snake gave me a straight answer once in a while. The bitter thought seemed to strengthen her resolve, give her energy. She liked the feeling.
Aubrey stretched her legs as she made a quick survey of the sparse room. Blankets: two of them. She’d been sitting on one, although it did little to make the concrete floor comfortable. The other appeared to have been tossed aside by her in her sleep, the creased fabric bunched into a pile.
There was a waist-high industrial storage unit in the middle of the room. Aubrey’s curiosity drew her to it, and she impulsively opened each drawer in rapid succession.
Most contained nothing but cobwebs and dust, but the second from the bottom held an empty rucksack which appeared new.
Who leaves a brand-new backpack in a place like this?
Aubrey pulled her find out of the drawer and searched its various pockets. She wasn’t surprised to find them empty. Still, the need to prepare was strong, although she couldn’t put her finger on why.
I’m not doing this just to avoid Jane, am I? Jumping at shadows because she might come down the corridor at any minute?
No, there was something else driving her.
Perhaps the increasing number of dead bodies on her account galvanized something in her psyche. Or perhaps she was reacting to the memory of—not one or two, but three—separate run-ins with the Soul-less.
It’s probably a combination of everything. But let’s be honest. The thought of dear sweet Jane showing up is definitely a factor.
She continued to explore the musty room, pleasantly surprised to find food rations in a small, cold cupboard. Dried fruit, mostly.
Just say no to scurvy. She smiled at the grim joke, remembering lessons from grade school. There was also some meat jerky, tough and salty but full of protein she would need.
Aubrey jammed as much as she could into her pack. Somebody was thoughtful enough to stock this place. I hope I get a chance to thank him or her someday.
She slipped her arms into the shoulder straps and tiptoed across the floor to stand at the room’s threshold.
Why do I feel like Death and Destruction are going to pay me another visit? Where did this urge to escape come from?
Jane was part of the reason, but not all. Not even a large part, the more she thought about it. But the feeling was intensifying, no matter how much her rational mind tried to convince her otherwise.
Fight or flight? I’ll take flight, thank you very much!
Aubrey paused at the doorway, shielding herself from the view of anyone coming down the cold and clammy tunnel. She inched forward, staring long and hard in both directions.
Nothing. Not a single hint to help her decide. Either route was potentially the correct choice, or a disastrous one. I wish whoever stocked the provisions had left some weapons behind, too.
Her heart beat faster. The rhythmic pounding was as much a symptom of her state of mind as the sweat breaking out on her forehead. She couldn’t think of any reason for her growing unease, aside from striking off on her own without a clear sense of where to go, meager supplies and no weapons.
Aubrey shook her head to clear her thoughts. Stop dawdling, Aubs. You know Snake Lady will return.
She crouched down and discovered she could just make out footprints leading out of her room and turning to the left. Among them was a small boot-print. Probably her reptilian traveling companion.
The urge to flee was so strong she couldn’t ignore it, or control it. Just the thought of taking the same tunnel as Snake Lady provoked a wave of revulsion.
Aubrey made her decision. She chose to turn right, putting the faint footprints behind her as she strode down the poorly-illuminated tunnel.
She couldn’t explain the overwhelming compulsion to strike out on her own. Nor why the mere thought of Jane was enough to dictate her choice of direction. There was just something—an inarticulate something—driving her to put as much distance as possible between herself and the room where she’d awoken
There was no denying it—rational decision-making was not at the core of her impetuous choice. This was instinct. This was primal self-preservation. Although she couldn’t explain it, even to herself, she was convinced. This was something she must do.
The weight of the food-laden rucksack pulled on her shoulders, and Aubrey felt her confidence increasing with each step. The fatigue in her legs was gone. Her muscles were warm and she was able to set a decent pace. The murky tunnel was damp and smelly, but Aubrey didn’t care.
She had to do this. If there was a logical reason for it, so be it. She’d figure it out later. Or, perhaps, by then it wouldn’t matter.