Chapter Summary
- FIND A WAY TO HARRAN
Nobody has heard from the Tower in a while now. And the way along the Coastline isn't exactly an encouraging idea for travel... That's not going to stop me. - Jack
ONE: BREAKING THE ICE
Sunlight was a survivor's oldest friend—a force that had purged fears since the dawn of humanity. A guide out of the darkest storms, and now desperately welcomed by the people of Scanderoon—a second city to be overrun by the undead.
By day, Biters loomed the streets, shifting slow and sluggish like street cats basking in the sun. The unlucky can be swallowed in for one wrong step; a meal for sharks in the tide.
And the nights were a whole different story.
Once the sun was down, the Specials lurked in the shadows, hunting for the most unlucky ones who couldn't find a Safe House.
All anyone could do was endure the nightmare and wait out the night. Every dawn was a bittersweet blessing, an overwhelming joy of being alive. Nothing but a vicious cycle for months with the seemingly endless delusion of hope.
That was how sunlight was in these growing dark times—a fleeting comfort.
It was, however, too annoying for Jack's eyes. Or was that the doctor's penlight pointed at her?
"Is she going to be okay?" someone by the door piped up.
"At best, she's got a nasty headache. At worst, her head's cracked open. Wouldn't hurt if this rickety place had better medical gear."
"You know what Mahir said. Hospitals are a buffet for the infected, Doc."
"Aye, aye, what Mahir said..." The penlight was off but Jack's eyes still stung. She winced as he probed the back of her head. "Looks like this isn't your first head trauma. I can't tell if you're lucky or unlucky."
"Sorry. Could someone close the curtains? It's bloody bright in here," Jack groaned with every fiber fighting her inertia.
"Hmm," the old man with a moustache scratched his chin. "Must have taken more than just a beating to the noggin' if you're this sensitive to light." He gestured to someone in the back—a woman with casual wear and her sleeves rolled up—to comply with Jack's wishes.
"Being pushed off from the second floor can do that. I think."
Once the light dimmed with the scratching of curtain rings, Jack's vision readjusted. She was on a makeshift bed—little more than a stack of boxes digging into her back—in what she could tell was an office turned into a small temporary doctor's room. Before her was the old man, his assistant with a clipboard, and the young lass with a military cap slouched by the door.
"That would do it... Nonetheless, you've got a clean bill of health. Williams' the name but you can call me Will," the old bloke introduced himself. "Forcefully-appointed doctor of the Junction."
"Because you're the only one with the most experience," the assistant pointed.
"A professor in Anthropology isn't a doctor. There's a difference."
"Jack." She pinched the bridge of her nose to squeeze herself out of her drowsiness. "For what it's worth...I've gone through worse."
"I've noticed." The old British man crouched his frown. "Aside from the headache, you should be fine. It's those bites I'm more worried about."
"She's been bitten?" one of the girls uttered with a tint of worry. And a hint of wariness.
"I didn't get bitten," Jack assured them. She was sure of it—at least during her last run. It was just a scratch.
"Not recent, no. But you've had a couple before, haven't you?" Well, the doctor saw the healed ones. "Did you go one-on-one with those Biters?"
Jack dodged the question, forcing another out instead. "How long was I out?"
"About two days. You needed it after what happened. You certainly stirred the whole neighborhood up."
"Two days?" she groaned, her shaking head in her hands. "...Wonderful. Everyone back home must be losing their minds."
The old man knitted his eyebrows together, having a harder look at their new visitor. That expression was the kind that people had seen her face before. Especially with a shaking, pointing finger at her.
"You look mighty familiar. Were you on TV before?"
Oh, this again.
Jack cracked out a wide smile. Brushed her half-haziness out of her system. "Probably. My face's recognizable."
The shaking finger grew more aggressive. "You're Mad Jack."
And there it was.
"Guilty as charged." She nodded proudly.
"Yes! The Wild Dog. 2011, at the Global Trial Championship tournament!" Will's grin was wide as he spun around to face the others in the room. But their blank stares made it painfully obvious they had no idea what he was rambling about.
"Who?" the young lass uttered, unimpressed.
Jack frowned at that jab but shrugged it off. Her reputation was ancient history to a new generation, after all. Completely forgettable next to the current champion.
"She was the kickboxing world champion back then. Three times in a row," Will explained. "A hellraiser who struck fear into every rookie."
"Actually, four. And that's a bit of an exaggeration-"
"Exaggeration is an understatement," Will chuckled. "I still remember that one time! You bit the Cannon's ear right off. Outside the ring."
"Oh. That. Well. Masha didn't mind a little warm-up-"
"And there was that officer whose legs you broke? Happened right outside the Sports Palace-"
"That bloke had it coming," her tone suddenly took a 180, expressing clear disapproval. "Claimed it was a search-up. But his grubby hands said otherwise."
The calm, icy outburst surprised both ladies in the back. There was clearly a story here—with two sides that neither felt was the legitimacy behind their words. But the old man slapped his knee with a loud laugh, as if finding it all humorous.
"Ha! The legend herself."
"I didn't know you were into kickboxing, Doctor," Hadya, the assistant, exclaimed
"My wife was. Rest her soul," Will explained, his expression softening. "She found you an inspiration. I heard you were starting self-defense classes this year."
"I may be retired but I do need to pay the bills," Jack pointed. "So, yes, I was opening up classes... Before the outbreak happened."
The doctor nodded apologetically. "She would've loved to see your classes. That's for sure."
Jack chuckled. "If it's any consolation, I would have been honored to have her as a student."
"Ha! When my days are numbered, I'll be sure to tell her I met Mad Jack in the flesh."
"William!" Hadya hollered. "Seriously."
But the old man rumbled on with loud, carefree laughter, folding away his stethoscope. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small bottle.
A familiar-looking bottle.
Jack's grin twitched at the corners.
"I'm joking. It'll take more to bring me down," Will assured as he took an injection gun from his assistant. "We shouldn't keep you here any longer. There's just enough Antizin to share around—"
"That won't be necessary." The response came out too fast. Jack almost thought she had made a rookie mistake when all three people looked at her funny—the young lass looking mighty dubious. "Had my shot before I ended up here."
At first, the old man gave the kind of expression she remembered her grandfather giving—his stare drilling into her to see her backtrack. Will, however, gradually yielded.
"If you say so. We're all in this together."
"Through thick and thin," she hummed.
Will passed the bottle to her—a gesture telling her that the option was still open—before getting up from his seat
"If that headache doesn't go away, stop by the sickbay. Or any reason. I'd like to hear more from the Wild Dog herself over a proper cup of tea," he added with a warm smile. "Siv, show her around, would you? This one's a keeper."
With that, he and his assistant left the office, leaving Jack alone with the young runner.
And Jack immediately read the room; the daggers in the runt's glare absolutely told her that she did not like the newcomer one bit.
The young lass's whole posture and attire exhumed a rebellious, tomboyish edge out loud—with rolled-up sleeves and a clash of jungle green for contrast in her accessories and military cap over her dark hair, the blond dye faint at the ends.
Jack had seen that look of distrust plenty of times: it was already there since the beginning of their whole situation. So she couldn't blame the lass.
Now how careful should Jack tread around this girl's feet?
"So. You're some bigshot champion. Mad Jack," the runner, Siv, huffed, hands in pockets.
"Retired," Jack corrected. "Passed that torch to the next champion years ago."
Siv's narrowed eyes raked over Jack, head to toe. With a "hmph", she continued, "You're not gonna last five minutes."
"Excuse me?"
"I saw you out there. You were running like a headless chicken."
"That's because I didn't think this city had the Harran virus." And that was a good statement she brought up herself, making her think. "I thought this place was quarantined... Wasn't it?
"It was three months ago," Siv answered. "Doesn't matter how and why, it's here. Now, it's 'do or die'. You're gonna have to pull your weight around here if you wanna keep up, Granny."
"Granny? Hon, I'm not even out of my prime. You think you can do a better job than me?" Jack playfully pushed.
"I can certainly outrun you." The runner strolled out of the office room. "Mahir's downstairs.
Welcome to Scanderoon."
And off Siv disappeared. Such a warm, welcoming introduction. Completely disregarding that she was politely asked to show the newcomer around the place.
But Jack didn't take offense to it.
She snorted. "Cheeky girl. Reminds me too much of Champ."
As she turned to leave, a nagging thought crossed her mind—something was gone. Her hand instinctively patted down her jacket, her fingers brushing over empty pockets. Relief hit as she spotted her missing sports sunglasses on the desk.
Under the glare of the light, the lens had a few scratches but she had never taken them off during the day, and certainly, she wasn't leaving them behind.
Not when sunlight was atrocious.
With the sunglasses clipped securely to her sling bag, Jack headed downstairs and saw the inner workings of the Junction, a large but durable Safe Zone in the Industrial District.
The ground floor was a patchwork of function and ingenuity: cubicle-like walls were placed up to make individual stations like vendors, kitchen, sickbay, living quarters, and so on. Impressive for a group of civilian survivors but she could tell they were underequipped.
It was a miracle that they had stood against the roaring tides for three months. Perhaps they had heard the news about Harran that some folks decided to be prepared on their toes.
"-what the hell was that thing?"
Gossip, passing whispers, a story or two, were always unavoidable in a place full of people and thin walls. A guard's hushed but urgent voice caught her attention briefly as she passed by a small gathering near a supply table.
"I dunno, man. Never seen a freak actually throw at us before."
"It pitched a fucking cinder block like a fastball! Smashed one of the UVs even!"
"Could be trouble if these infected are getting smarter… Should we tell Quasim?"
"Yeah, because we love giving those guys more excuses to throw their weight around," the first voice groaned.
Jack didn't linger, though their words stuck with her as she made her way deeper into the warehouse.
"-It's not looking good, Boss. Those bastards've been getting to the drops before we can."
Jack found a repurposed breakroom acting as the command room—five people around a map pinned down on the table.
There were noticeable pieces from board games along the surface. They weren't much, but each piece symbolized something important: locations, supply routes, and potential threats. Crude but effective.
One man, likely in his mid-thirties, stood at the head of the table with the makings of an experienced military leader. He heaved a heavy sigh.
"Rotate the rations for the next three days and take a break. Let's see if B-Team can get the ones up north."
The others around the table exchanged disappointed looks but silently the order, one by one, accepting the fact that it was all they could do for the time being.
"And send word to Dua. We need another two boxes of Anitizin as soon as possible."
The group dispersed from the command room—one stayed behind, sitting down at a small radio station. The leader's face then brightened once he caught sight of Jack at the doorway.
For once, it was good news to see someone outside the Junction alive.
"Welcome back to the living, newcomer," he greeted as if Jack's presence alone could breathe fresh energy into the stale air. However, he easily and tiredly gave up on the attempt to lighten up the mood.
It was the thought that counted, however.
"We don't have much. But we have coffee." He held out his hand and Jack accepted it with a firm shake.
"Mahir, I take?"
He nodded. "You've got guts to be out on the Coast. Those freaks are even more feral by the shore than in the city, Miss...?"
"Call me Jack Brecken. From the Outskirts."
"The Outskirts? As in Harran?"
She nodded.
Mahir was indeed surprised. "You're a long way from home. That's on the other side of the Old City. Where the first outbreak happened."
"Near Sector 0," she added.
"I thought that place was quarantined."
"And I thought this city was walled off."
"Heh," Mahir scorned loudly, leaning back on the table. "Clearly, it didn't last long. If you managed to get here without trouble, then anything from Harran can get in too."
"True. I was on my way to the Slums through the channels. But here I am," Jack chided, ignoring Mahir's shocked expression that read, "How crazy are you to be heading to that place?"
"Can't depend on the authorities to fix this problem anymore. Look at how they handled Harran." Mahir let out a soft sigh, his tone becoming almost cautious. "So...the Outskirts. Do you...know a woman named Asem Karga?"
Jack's eyebrows shot up. Now, that was unexpected.
"Why, as a matter of fact, yes. She's in charge of the group I'm affiliated with. The Ravens. Ravs for short."
Mahir's shoulders visibly relaxed as a sigh of relief escaped him. Clearly, he'd been grasping at straws, taking a shot in the dark with the hope that Jack might know the name. When her answer confirmed his faint hope, a grin broke across his face.
"Glad to hear she's doing fine."
So he knew Asem. Interesting. "Far better than anyone else dealing with this outbreak. She definitely knows how to handle a rifle."
That earned a warm, hearty laugh from Mahir. "She's right in her element then. I imagine the Outskirts is as tough as it is here."
"More or less. Those freaks outside gave me a run for my money, mate."
"Sounds like any runner's story here. Well, mostly from Siv."
"The girl with the short hair, right?" she asked. "I understand you're short on people but sending her out as a Runner is gonna have her do something daft."
"Won't argue with that. But Siv made that call on her own. She's actually the reason we even have a runner team."
Jack blinked, caught off guard. That girl was young enough to get her driving license and she was the boss of the Junction's Runners?
"You don't need to worry about her. She's on time-out. Indefinite."
That already didn't sound good, especially with Mahir's tone.
"Then have her a replacement or…?" She pointed at Mahir.
"No, no. I can't pull myself on the bars like I used to. And," he lifted up one of his leggings, showing a prosthetic leg. "I can't really run nowadays."
"...Sorry about that."
"None taken. But you are right about us being understaffed. Ten runners and the rest are civilians and ex-military like me."
"Just make sure your people are extra careful when going outside. Especially with that mongrel running around."
Mahir's face tensed, the concern unmistakable. "This isn't an infected dog, right?"
"Some...freakazoid chased me all the way from the beach. A bloody hunter."
"A Night Hunter?" The name seemed to click to Mahir, his expression darkening further. "In broad daylight? That's not possible. They're deadlier than the Volatiles."
Jack had no idea what a Night Hunter was.
"Well, this one was prancing around like he owned the place. Sounds like these things are pretty common here."
"But not in the Outskirts? Like I said, only at night. But a Hunter running amok in the day... That's not normal."
"Is that right?" Jack sang, strangely intrigued. An infected that isn't normal…
Mahir, however, didn't hear that from her. "I'll let everyone know."
"Happy to help."
At first, Jack thought the goodwill and shaking hands were a good way to break the ice. But the man's quiet expression then told her that wasn't enough for a stranger like her. He eventually folded his arms, like an interviewer waiting to be wowed.
"Since you're offering to help, mind telling me what you can do? Or are you gonna be another deadweight?"
"Deadweight?" Jack jested with a palm on her chest, a theatrical gesture of 'moi?'. "If you want to get rid of me that badly, then I'll walk myself out the door."
"You can. But you're no ordinary person. People's talking about you being a famous kickboxer."
My, word goes around. "My reputation precedes me. And it's 'retired'."
"Hm-hm. And can you tell me that you're really 'retired' from the fighting? You strike me as the kind who'd leave after a good night's sleep."
Right, the trust game. She couldn't blame him—she had her fair share of picking allies and enemies. Before and after the outbreak.
"I'm with Asem. Isn't that good enough?"
"I only know her. But I don't know you."
"Fair point. How do I know we're even talking about the same Asem?"
"You don't. But what choice do you have?"
The silence hung tight, both holding their ground. Finally, Jack let out a soft sigh, recognizing his guarded stance wasn't hostile.
"Alright," Jack said, preparing her pitch.
Time to sell herself.
"I'm not the kickboxing champion I once was. But I am what you'd call...a specialist."
"Specialist?"
"Retrieval, mostly. Name anything you want and I'll fetch it. People too. With negotiable compensation."
"So you're a service for hire."
"It is difficult to bring someone back alive. But I don't take money. Not in the Ravs' rulebook."
"And these Ravens, are they all like you?"
"Just me. The Ravens follow Asem. They help folks in the Outskirts anyhow they can. Scavenging, thinning out the infected population, the usual."
"Then what do you do?"
"I make distractions. I go in with all the whistles and bells. Get the heat off good people."
"That's...a risky role you got there."
"It helps. And it just might help you too. Crows are loud and notorious."
He studied her for a moment, skepticism still lingering. Then, a wide smirk broke across his face. "...Asem picked a good friend. One with guts."
"She has a good eye on people."
"Oooh-ho," Mahir chuckled. "That she does."
"I'm only here until I get my boat. Like I said, I was heading for the Slums before this pitstop."
"Fair enough."
He stood up, directing her to the map.
"Fair enough."
He stood up, directing her to the map.
"There's also two more places you should avoid." He pointed at the map. "One is the Checkpoint. The military and GRE are keeping people from leaving Scanderoon."
"GRE?" Mahir nodded his head. Jack grumbled under her breath. "Imagine that. Still cleaning up their mess."
GRE. Global Relief Effect.
To the world, they were a humanitarian organization, stepping in during crises—war zones, natural disasters, epidemics. They were the ones behind the airdrops over Harran, giving people a sliver of hope that help was coming.
But Jack had heard the stories. She'd seen things herself, back in the Outskirts.
"Heard they were responsible for the virus getting out in Harran," Mahir said, his tone grim.
"So says the rumor," she said with no hesitation. "Might be the truth."
"Whatever the case, it's none of our business so long as they leave us alone. They're the least of our concerns."
"And the ones we should worry about?" Jack asked.
"Convicts," the answer came to Jack very out of left field. "They're all over the Bayside. Tried to ransack this place a couple of times."
"Now that is a problem."
"More than you know it. They even have a boxing ring to blow off steam. Bunch of lunatics."
"Boxing?" she almost sang that word out. "Sounds like my kind of alley."
Mahir glimpsed at Jack with a look of concern. He didn't like the sound of her enthusiasm. "These are dangerous men, Jack. They don't treat ladies kindly."
Her eyebrow arched. "Who says I'm gonna treat them kindly either?"
Mahir held up his hands. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He leaned against the table, watching the brunette digest the whole map. "Scanderoon's a lot bigger than Harran. It'll take time to get your bearings."
"This is not my first time visiting here." Jack then lightly tapped at one area of the map, crossed out in marker. "I do remember this was the Suburbans."
"That place's a no-go. First place hit by the virus." Mahir casually grabbed a mug and covered the area with it. Subtle, but it told Jack all she needed to know—right next to the Suburbans was the edge of Harran, with the Countryside beyond the outline of Harran's dam.
One odd symbol caught her eye before he covered it: a sun with a cross over it, like a warning.
Jack considered prying, but the atmosphere wasn't right.
"That's it, really," Mahir said abruptly to hide his discomfort. "Just look for the clocktower and you won't lose yourself in this city."
"I'll take note of that."
"Good. Now that formalities are out of the way...make yourself at home," he added, though the word, 'home' sounded strained. "Get ready, though. The locals will hound you for work"
She smiled, already feeling right at home in the Junction.
"Happy to serve."
The Junction stood as a fortress in the heart of the industrial area.
Months of painstaking work went not only into the reinforced walls but even the building's surroundings. For the Runners, a network of bridges and pathways connected nearby buildings above the streets—one compromised route could quickly be cut before the infection would spread.
And on the grounds, the only way in was through the main gates. There had been wear and tear, failures and successes in maintaining security but time and time again, the Junction endured. Any invader would be gunned down or scorched by UV rays.
Yet, one creature watched the fortress from the shadows of a nearby, unfinished silicon factory—just opposite the Junction.
Golden eyes watched eerily at the brightly-lit bodies walking behind walls, a banquet waiting to be devoured. After all, to the infected, the Junction was a whale of a catch. To this one hunter, it didn't matter—numbers were a problem. The Special Infected's vexation overpowered its own hunger.
It was here for only one human—the woman in red.
There was something disturbingly familiar about this one human. Something that churned bile in its throat. It triggered a long-buried memory inside its skull.
It brought back someone he thought he had killed.
Was it really her again?
Did she come back alive? No...yes! shouted the voice in his head. It had to be that damn snake! She was still alive.
She always had been there, scratching at the back of his head like a constant irritation. The vengeful emotions from the past surged back, fueling the fire inside him until his primal instincts clawed their way to the forefront.
The other voice, his 'primal companion', snarled at him to cease taking the reins back. And rage and hatred drowned down by the old, ancient feeling. Like being dragged down to the bottom of the ocean and letting the sharks take the surface. The great white shark was the king inside this mind now, not him.
Let the king take the lead, like always.
Sure...whatever...
He had always been too tired to fight back.
Now, with the other voice silenced, the creature focused again on the Junction. The source of its torment was somewhere inside. That pest in red ... How could she have come back, alive and in the flesh?
However, she had wandered into their hunting grounds.
The Hunter had the power now. It wasn't the old, poor, pathetic human he once was and they have achieved so much since they became one. They were the King of the Night.
And that woman in red? She was just another pathetic infected to have her head ripped off again—if she was truly back.
The goal was clear now: hunt her down . But it knew full well the risks of charging in. Its brethren had tried before—bodies littered the ground, tangled in traps, scorched by live wires. The distance between rooftops was too far for an easy leap. Inside the walls, death was inevitable. Too many obstacles.
Just wait. Wait for her to leave, the beastly voice said.
She couldn't stay in there forever.
But instead of waiting for her to leave through the main gates, the rooftop door flung open.
There. There she was.
Mother's back.
A low, growling snarl erupted from deep within it. Its molten-orange talons scraped against the wooden beam. But it held back. Patience. Be patient. They could wait.
This was their hunting ground after all.
Jack, unaware of the golden eyes fixed on her from across the street, was fighting a small battle. The moment she walked to the roof access, the blazing sun immediately stung her eyes. She fumbled for her sunglasses and slipped them on, granting her relief from the sharp pain.
It was then that her mouth gaped open at the sight of the once beautiful Mediterranean coastal city—Scanderoon, one of the largest ports in the country. A completely different sight to behold and a far cry from the distant view she had seen from her boat.
After Harran and the Outskirts, she thought she would have been used to seeing a dreary, decimated city.
"…Scanderoon had seen better days…" she muttered to herself. "Last time I was here was for the championship tournament…"
The wind was nice, cool and refreshing but stunk of rotten flesh, ashes, and heated iron.
Enough of sightseeing. Jack put on her earpiece.
"Come on. Pick up. I know you're having an aneurysm. Or two. Or three-"
Beep!
"-Jack? Jack! Oh my god, you're alive." The voice started up with a sense of overwhelming joy. Bursting with laughter! Then it changed on a dime. "Where were you?! "
"It's nice to hear your voice again, hon."
"Don't do that to me, man! I've been pushing Asem to send rallies after you!" Bones hollered, almost sounding on the brink of tears. But he would deny that.
"Had to make a detour into the Coast. I might be stuck for a while with a group of survivors here."
"Survivors? Why are there survivors over there? "
"Scanderoon has the virus, Bones."
"...Shit." The weight of the news hit the radioman quite hard. The situation has spread far beyond the walls of Harran. "I thought the other cities were on lockdown."
"I thought so too."
"How bad is it?"
"As bad as Harran. Meaning more work for me. Got clients already lining up with a long list of requests."
Bones grumbled but not with the usual irritation—this was something he was used to now. "...I see you're already advertising yourself, Miss Specialist."
"Just for the time being. Until I can find Lenny's boat-"
"Wa - what do you mean untill you find-?!" The mic picked up a knock—Bones probably covering it, his panic audible. "Lenny's gonna kill you!"
"It's fine. It's exactly where I left it. More or less intact."
"Wait, what did you say - forget it," Bones groaned. "Less I know, the better."
"Don't be such a worrywart, mate."
"That's what you think. I'm out of here when Lenny finds out," he whined.
Jack chuckled lightly—he meant it. She couldn't fault him for thinking that, especially the kind of man Lenny was around Caroline. Protective for an inanimate lass after his own heart.
Then it was back to business.
"So Scanderoon's outbreak... Any problems over there?"
She pondered over it. "...Maybe two or three new problems."
"Ugggh…Hang on." She could hear paper raffled and a pen clicked. "Ready."
"Anitizin is one. They seem pretty stockpiled on it. I had to decline the doctor on the offer."
Jack's fingers traced down her arm, where one old bite wound was exposed to the world—the smallest out of the eleven other teeth marks. They were bound to be discovered, along with the other bites. By now, the Junction had spread the gossip about these scars, besides her being the old retired kickboxer.
Yes, she was infected. One day, she would turn into those Biters. And that thought never stopped her. But wounds like these could get a man killed because of paranoia.
So they had to stay a secret after all. She pulled down her arm sleeve over the mark.
"Figures. You're gonna have to stay low. Or you'll die," Bones uttered with great emphasis on the last word.
"Doesn't make it any easier. Once they learn I've been avoiding Antizin, they're gonna lock me up and wait for me to turn."
"What are you gonna do?"
"What else? Make up excuses. Have to be careful around the Doc. Just as sharp as my grandfather."
"Well, get ready to bolt before that happens! We can't lose you again, Jack."
"I hear you, I hear you," she remarked casually.
"If you must gain the trust of the people, you'd better do a good job. The Ravs have a reputation to uphold too."
"It's not gonna be easy. Some of the locals are already keeping their distance from me. Especially this one lass."
"A girl, huh? Is she cute?"
"I'm not playing matchmaker in a zombie apocalypse, Bones."
"Wait, I wasn't saying it like that-"
"But you were thinking about it. Answer is no. We're on the clock."
"Alright, alright." She could picture the lad rolling his eyes on the other end. "But let's be serious. Girls would run for the hills with just one look at me."
"Now you're being silly. You're still the young, handsome, charming lad you were before you were bitten, Bones."
"Suuure. Say that to my face again," Bones mocked, disbelieving her words of comfort. "Just don't forget your main task. We need to collect the data off those infected."
"I've not forgotten. But you do know my condition is bound to be found out eventually."
"Then...lie! It's only an option-"
"It's the only option we've got. I'd rather tell a bloody half-truth than a half-lie and piss them off even more."
"Man. Your honesty is gonna be the death of you one of these days."
"Hey, telling the harsh truth beats being a lying wanker, right?"
"Ha! Like you're not one when you're being truthful!" Bones uttered and gave up on his debate. "Fine. Fine… So what else? That can't be just that."
"Other than the usual danger? GRE's at one side of the Coast and there's also a bunch of thugs on the other end. Looks like they're having a turf war with each other."
"Yup, sounds about right."
"On top of that, we have something happening in the Suburbans. Their maps have some sort of sun symbol on the spot."
"Sun symbol?" Bones repeated. "Think they're the people the Tower was looking into."
"You realize how crazy that rumor sounds, right, Bones?"
"That was the last thing they told me over the radio."
"A cult worshipping a sun is one thing. Domesticated zombies? Their farmers are probably smoking something, if you ask me."
"You told us yourself, don't leave any stone unturned. Maybe they're linked to why the Tower has gone quiet."
"The Tower and the Countryside are far apart...but you're right too. It's worth checking out when I get the chance," she said. "On other news, I might have found a lead—a hunter. The guy in charge here said they come out only at night."
"Hunters? We don't have those in the Outskirts. The worst ones here are the Volatiles and Berserkers. Watchers are just scarce."
"This one's a little different. I saw it beating the living shit out of another infected. In broad daylight."
" ...Ok, that does sound different. Infected fighting each other..."
"Oh. It gets better. I think...and this is just an observation it was punching. Feral but that bugger was doing close-hand combat."
There was a pause. Yup, a pause.
"Ok, Jack. Be honest with me. You're sure you didn't hit your head again?"
She hesitated briefly.
"Of course not," Jack droned. "I'm perfectly fine. As crazy as it sounds, this is not an original walker."
"So what? They're becoming smarter? That can't be good."
"Maybe it was acting out?" she proposed. "Talo's always going on about them imitating humans."
"Yes. And he's a conspiracy theorist. But it is a possibility. Or maybe… No way-"
"Spit it out, Bones. We need to consider all possibilities."
"Maybe it's relying on past events to know how to pull punches. It's just a guess."
"An infected with its memory intact. Sounds reasonable... And dangerous."
"And I'm so happy it's not here in the Outskirts… But it is a specimen to look into."
"So track it and tag it?"
"That's what this project's for. Just find it, test your secret weapon on it, and get a blood sample."
"Yeah. About those samples."
"What?"
"My bag fell off the boat. With the syringes."
A long, aggravated whine seeped through the line. "Jaaaaack," he groaned. "Tell me you at least have the trackers on you."
Jack fished a small waterproof zip bag from her jacket with tiny devices inside.
"They're dry. You sure these will work?"
"Codebreaker increased their range by another hundred. We'll see anything you tag on the whole map from way up here. Same goes for the app we gave you. Unless you dropped your phone in the water too," Bones snapped.
"No, of course not."
She traded the next thing with the bag. Her cheap phone, cracked and soaked.
"SD's still intact." Another groan out of her listener but she swiftly assured him. "I'll get a new phone."
A sigh of annoyance and defeat followed. "Fine. Get everything you need. And don't kill that Special."
"Easier said than done. You know that."
"Yes. And this makes it even harder because you don't have the syringes to draw blood. I'll let the Ravs know-"
"No need. I'll check around the hospitals."
"Jack, those are special syringes. You can't find them at just any hospital "
"I'm sure I'll find some Hot Spots around. This is my solo mission. Don't send anyone here."
"Jack-"
"I'll call you once I find that specimen."
Beep!
She ended the conversation there. There was no need to let him talk her out of it—she knew where it would go. No, she had to do this alone; fewer people involved, fewer casualties. The less anyone knew, the less hope they'd place on the outcome…
No, she had to do this alone: the fewer casualties, the better. She couldn't involve anyone else new in this project either. The less people knew, the less hope they could bet on the results...
"Alright, Jackie. Time for work."
She spun around-
"Christ!" she shrieked, stumbling back from a face that popped out of nowhere.
She hadn't heard the door creak open or Siv sneak up behind her.
"Ah! Hahaha. You nearly gave me a heart attack." Jack heaved in a deep breath. "How long...have you been there for?"
"Enough to know that I'm a problem to you," Siv scoffed irritably.
Oh. She heard that. Well, then.
"Don't you know it's wrong to eavesdrop on people, princess-"
"Don't call me 'princess'," Siv hissed, jabbing a finger right at Jack like it was a loaded gun. Jack raised her gloved hands in defense. "If I had my way, I'd throw you out…"
Siv visibly wrestled with her anger. But took a while to decide anything on the spot. She had choices: turn around and go to Mahir with what she had heard.
"Is that a threat?" Jack poked calmly, hands dropping to her pockets.
The thought never crossed the young girl's mind and once Jack asked that question, Siv actually pondered over it. For a second. Going back and forth on the options.
"You got leverage." Siv's whole body went on high alert: what game was this woman playing? "So…does her royal Highness have anything for this underdog to keep lips sealed?"
"Shut it," she snapped, clearly annoyed at the nickname. "You're on drop duty."
"My first assignment of the day?"
"Yeah. And I'm your handler."
Jack grimaced, genuinely surprised. "You're coming along?"
"Would you prefer I go talk to Mahir instead?"
Jack might've smiled at the sass. Good, she knew well enough to keep herself out of a trap without outright showing her hand.
But didn't Mahir say she was on time-out?
"You want to keep me quiet? I go with you," Siv demanded before Jack could ask questions. "Deal?"
The young Runner acted all tough in front of a professional fighter, clearly not taking no for an answer. But Jack had a gut feeling Siv wasn't tagging along just to supervise.
"Deal."
"And don't try anything. I'll push you out there as zombie food the first chance I get."
Ok, maybe she should not overuse that tough girl routine of hers. Could get her killed.
"Crystal clear, hon."
The girl scrunched up her pretty face, hating Jack's loosely-tonged response. She marched right off to the other side of the roof.
"Definitely like Champ," Jack muttered with a grin. She gave the city one last look, and with a readjusting of her gloves, she exclaimed, "Well then, no rest for the wicked."
Back onto the wagon, as the saying goes.
Jack followed Siv across the rooftop, cluttered with all sorts of obstacles—barricaded ventilation shafts, makeshift watchtowers, and creeping ivy that clung to the edges, giving the whole place a false sense of peace.
That said, it wasn't easy for Jack, with the lass being years younger and springer than her. Ordering her to do leapfrogs.
"Would you hurry up?"
"Yes, yes. Bossy..."
Jack could have talked back, but there was no need to sour the mood further—her mere presence had already done that to Siv inside these walls.
She was about to ask how they were going to leave the roof when her gaze landed on the solution.
"Ziplines."
Metal cables stretched across the industrial district's rooftops in every direction—north, south, and beyond. It was the perfect way to enter and exit the Junction for a Runner, so long as the other tops of the buildings were zombie-free—unless they could fly.
"If you wanna take a stroll outside, be my guest."
"I'll pass," Jack said quickly. "But…you sure this is safe?"
Siv cocked an eyebrow at her as if it was a dumb question. "Safer than down there."
"Of course," Jack conceded. "But those ziplines are going up, not down-"
Siv pulled out a rope ascender from her belt. "What? You think I'm gonna climb my way up?"
Smart.
"Don't suppose you have a spare-" The teenager was already off, the device swooshing loudly along the metal line. "Ok. Let me take the long way 'round then."
Jack didn't take offense at the cold shoulder. If anything, it was a challenge—how difficult could Siv make things for her before that icy exterior started to crack? This walk could be a good bonding moment, a chance to open up.
And an opportunity to gather some intel.
"It's warmups, Jackie. You've been out for two days anyway."
Two days? It felt like weeks since she'd last been out. But recalling some parkour moves was a decent refresher. Fences, ledges, freerunning across rooftops—it used to come easily.
Ok, that was a lie to herself. She still felt a bit rusty.
"So you know the basics," Siv pointed, slightly impressed that the 'Granny' could keep up.
"Learned them from my cousin. Traded him with a few basic self-defense moves."
"Right. Will said you were an instructor."
"Had the papers ready before all hell broke loose," Jack breathed. She didn't forget that she hung by a thread as she moved about. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for getting this far. "...This isn't half bad."
"Your cousin didn't teach you enough."
"I didn't teach him enough either," she chided, taking Siv's hand to be helped up to the next roof. "Didn't want to give him the upper hand."
"Hmph." The joke didn't even crack Siv's tough exterior.
This is gonna take a while, Jack told herself.
"Hey, rookie. Gimme a hand." Their first stop was a set of coastal townhouses, the ground floors damaged by intense rainwater. Siv pointed to a dunnage rack on the second floor of the last house.
"Rookie? Why… Ok, fine." Jack let that slide. This one time. "How about a please next time?"
"You're not my mom. Move it," Siv ordered. "Don't pull your back."
"Hreh hreh," Jack mocked. She wasn't that old. But she wished she could retract that statement. Because "Omph...! This thing weighs a ton!"
"Told ya."
But Jack could see the purpose—the young girl saw this as a bridge to help them cross the gap of splinters and beams. They set it down quietly, keeping an eye out for any sneaky Biter before they crossed over. Siv was the first to cross the bridge, unfazed by the shaking and the potential dangers around them.
Ok, Jack might as well initiate the conversation between them further as she followed the young girl across the urban canopy. Get the ball rolling and the ice melting.
"Baffling, isn't it?"
"What is?" Siv groaned, but the tone didn't shun Jack off.
"For someone your age to be out doing errands with me," she continued. "Or going around town for that matter."
"Mahir needs all the hands he can get. No complaints there."
"So how often do you go out? Alone?"
"We've got teams. But I don't see a point in sending more than two people to collect an airdrop close here."
"Your parents must be terrified."
"Wouldn't know."
Jack almost stopped, cautious that she might step on a landmine. "They're not here?"
"My mom. Haven't heard from her in a long time."
Well, this was just terrific. "Do you know where she is?"
"Harran. Where else..." Siv sighed, frustration clear in her voice. "She sent me to my relatives here when the first sign of symptoms came up."
"She didn't come with you?"
"Oh, please!" Siv groaned loudly; above creatures that would swarm at the faintest noise. "She stayed behind because her boyfriend was there!"
Maybe, I should stop. But Jack tempted fate again.
"I'm sure she's fine."
"I don't wanna talk about it."
That was code for, "step over this next landmine and I'll break your nose." Jack wisely obliged, although she was curious to see how this girl would fight—a poor jab that a professional could parry easily with a slap.
But she had good speed over strength. Shooting her way across slidings and pipes, just as quick as another runner Jack knew.
With that, Jack followed after the young girl. Climbing higher and higher.
When they reached the top, Jack couldn't help but take in the view. The entire picture of the world.
It was a grim, bleak sight.
Scanderoon was almost unrecognizable—Jack remembered vividly how it was the last time she visited the city, before the outbreak. And in three months, it had crumbled down like Harran.
The more exposure she had walking through the city, the heavier the weight became.
"Not a pretty sight, right?" Siv snapped her away from the dark scene.
Maybe Jack should have expected this to get worse outside of Harran. The promises that the virus was contained, that it would be resolved, and that it could be cured? All empty.
"How far?" Jack asked.
"Half the city. And anything along the Coastline… I heard the Capital and other countries are trying to put all the stops but...it's going around like wildfire."
Wildfire. That word felt right.
Half the city was damned. This part of history was playing out like those apocalyptic movies she had watched in her afternoons—where the end of humanity was on the rise. No amount of lockdowns and measures from the outside world could stamp the fire down fast enough. The virus jumped to another patch of grass and continued to spread.
It was inevitable. Jack had already accepted that help wasn't coming. The outside world turned their back on Harran and now everyone has turned away from the world.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jack noticed Siv lower her cap and walk ahead—she had seen this scenery countless times on this route.
Enough sightseeing. Nothing was going to bring back to Scanderoon's former days.
The two of them continued on their route.
"So. How long have you been doing parkour?"
Siv's shoulders stiffened, clearly irked by the old bat's attempt at small talk. Was she trying to get on her good side?
"Three years," Siv replied and ended it there.
"I know a lad who's into it too."
But the 'granny' didn't get the memo.
"Really?" Siv might as well get this over with, until Jack would get tired from all the vaulting.
"Brave, reckless troublemaker, really. But his heart's in the right place."
"Sounds a lot like my senior from class. He yanks too much to the newcomers."
"Sounds awful." Siv kinda agreed there. Her senior was always passionate when it came to the hobby that it just rubbed on her too. "Still, you lot are the boldest I've ever seen."
Siv glanced back with a raised eyebrow. What was this sugar talking for?
"I told you, my cousin taught me some parkour too. Bloody hell, you just darted across three houses like it was nothing. Braver than me."
"C'mon," Siv barked, her tone softening just a bit. "You're a kickboxer. You fight people."
"Of course. That's why I've stayed a champion for as long as I could."
"Until someone else took it."
"Yup," Jack uttered proudly, a strange tone for Siv to hear. She'd expected the old bat to show some resentment. "No one stays at the top forever. That's what makes it fun."
"Fun. With everything happening around us now?" Siv sighed.
"It's a game of highs and lows everywhere," Jack said, her bluntness surprising the lass. "But one similar thing from the ring is you can still choose your fights."
That was the common ground Jack could pull them on. Everyone was surviving, on their own or together as one and everyone had already chosen to fight or run. Jack could see that emotional weight on the young girl's shoulders; she had seen her fair share of nightmares and lived to tell the tales.
But that tough shell Siv wore told Jack that she hadn't talked to anyone about those tales or that nobody had taken the time to listen.
A bad hole to be left in, with everything happening around her.
It did make Jack wonder...how was everyone back in Harran? They'd be in quarantine longer than three months.
It'd be ok, Jack assured herself. He's with his sister. They should be fine.
They had to be.
She didn't want to entertain any other thought…
"So people call you the Wild Dog." Siv's voice snapped Jack out of her thoughts. The young lass was curious. "Why that name?"
"Ah, well. Wasn't my idea," Jack admitted too proudly for Siv's liking. "My manager saw what I could do. 'As rabid as the stray dogs of Harran', he said. And I lived up to the name by-"
"By biting off someone's ear. Will said that."
Ugh, she had to bring that up.
"Okay, fine. No holding back then. Yes, I bite people. A bit of the low side but it's enough to make them flinch."
"Is that...even legal?"
"No, it's not," Jack replied with a slight delay. Just a slight. "It was just that one time."
"One time. You make it sound like you've had more than just normal fights."
Damn, she was sharp. Jack could straight-out lie or avert the conversation elsewhere. But in a decaying city, who would care about consequences and karma?
"I won't deny it. You make all sorts of contacts with my line of work. Both good and bad. Everyone starts their hands dirty in this world."
"And one of those contacts was how you got the name? Mad Jack?"
"You know, I don't remember when they started chanting that name… Was it in Rennes or Paris…"
"You've been to France?" Siv's face lit up. Hearing about someone who had traveled to another country felt surreal.
"France, Greece, Turkey, Iran. But once I signed up officially, Mert took me anywhere that had a good fight."
"Mert. He's your manager?"
"Manager and trainer. A second father. I owe him for everything… The only issue was the unwanted baggage that followed me into my career days."
"Baggage?"
"Like I said. You meet all sorts of people. But Mert didn't care... We were both hoping that baggage would leave me alone and move on."
"They didn't leave, did they?" Siv started with a cautious step into the conversation.
Jack bit her lip hard, stifling down the provoked flames with a deep breath. She was the one who let that little detail slip out—she asked for it. "Most people never no for an answer."
"Sounds like a story you don't wanna talk about."
"It's an indefinite story."
Her tone wasn't harsh; Jack had learned to keep her anger in check—unless it was in the ring or directed at a dumbarse. But it was enough to let the kid know not to push further. Siv nervously rubbed her left arm, not too shaken by the mild remark since she'd been giving Jack a hard time from the start.
The silence was...heavy, though.
"...Got any scars?"
Jack raised an eyebrow at the sudden question. "I'm sorry?"
Siv hesitated, maybe afraid she might cross another line. But then she pushed forward, determined. "Scars. Will said you've been pretty beaten up. And... you know, bitten too."
"Nothing to fret, hon. This virus isn't gonna stop me." Jack forced a smile. So please drop that topic; it's none of your concern.
"Sure..." Siv wasn't convinced. "What about broken bones? Wrestling's all about the pain."
"Kickboxing. Big difference."
"Ok. What is it then?" Siv remarked snippily.
"Wrestling's about locking and holding your opponent to overpower them. Kickboxing is striking your enemy."
"So what? You ku-fung your way around?"
"Sort of. It's a mix of techniques. But every martial art comes with some scrapes. I've had a broken rib. A few kicks to the head-"
"Wait, what?" Siv exclaimed, showing genuine concern for a stranger she just met.
"That's the risk with headbutting in any combat sport. One of us ends up with jam inside their skull."
"Your head's not like Swiss cheese, is it?"
"Wouldn't you like to know." Jack smirked. There was a pride in her voice, making it unclear if she did indeed have holes in her head or if that was a badge of honor to Jack. But that peaceful, satisfied look on Jack's face reminded Siv of a veteran reminiscing about the good old days.
"So. Where's this airdrop?"
"Up ahead. Just need to cross one more threshold," Siv replied, her tone a bit more accepting now.
Good. Should be a smooth retrieval. That was until they walked around the bend.
"Whoa, whoa. Okay, no."
"What?"
Ahead of them, between two buildings, was the final threshold. A radio tower had toppled, crushed by a downed helicopter lying in the road. The twisted metal had formed a bridge over the wreckage—but the real problem was the height.
"That's a fifty-foot drop."
Siv simply peered over the edge.
"Actually, sixty-five. Estimate."
"Smartarse," Jack exclaimed and glanced around. "But seriously. Maybe there's another way around-"
"Aren't you Mad Jack? Don't you take any risk?" Siv mocked with a playful tone.
"Back in my glory days. Not in an infected-filled city."
"So what you're saying," Siv spread out her arms, readying a cheeky taunt. "You're chicken."
Jack grimaced at the now-smiling youngster. So that game, huh.
"Mad Jack is no chicken."
"Bwak, bwak! Bwaak!"
Neither noticed they were being watched. Not far away, the golden eyes observed them like a hawk on field mice—the unnatural monochromatic vision focused on the smaller prey highlighted in bright orange as she flapped her folded arms wildly. It enticed the predator to come after her.
It wasn't enough to sate its appetite, but the girl would be an easy kill—
No! No! Stop! STOP! Not the kid— Shut up! I AM IN CHARGE!
"Ok, ok," the bigger prey, the woman in red, chuckled warmly, making the golden eyes lock on her. "But this tower better be stable, princess."
"Relax. Runners go through here all the time."
Focus on the task. The hunter steadied itself. This time, it would get her. The Mother couldn't come back. He'd tear off her head again before she could screw another person's life with her twisted morals.
Just like she did to him.
"I'll kill you."
Jack whipped around to the sound. But was it really sound? It felt like a strange scratch at the back of her head, just enough to be mistaken for a soft, harsh whisper to her ear.
Was it the wind?
She combed the rooftops around. But no one stood out, only the slow walkers.
"Something's wrong?"
"Um…Thought I heard someone."
Siv looked around as well, holding out her ear. Nothing but the usual atmosphere. She turned back at the brunette, spotting her expression being...unreadable this time.
Siv grew worried, remembering what Mahir said about a Hunter…
"C'mon," Siv pushed. Almost pleading. "I'm leaving you behind, slowpoke."
"...Yeah."
Siv was gone with a skip over a good six-foot gap, far too fast for Jack's liking. How nice it was to be young and agile again.
Well, Jack wasn't gonna be left behind. With a deep breath—first, a few steps back for a running start—she leapt.
BAM!
"Hell's bells!" she shrieked, her top half holding on to the bars and her legs dangling over the edge.
Creeeee-thu-thu-thu!
The metal groaned loudly from the sudden shift of weight but it didn't bend as she feared. She climbed up onto her feet and gripped the railing so tightly, her knuckles turning white.
"See? You did good for your first jump."
"Yeah. Ahahaha... A little winded." She made the foolish decision to look down.
Oomph, the height. She felt like she could be pushed off by the wind like paper.
"Bloody hell. That's a long way down!" Stupid to say that aloud, but it sent shivers down her spine. "Gives you one hell of a thrill!"
"You should try the clocktower. It's a doozy-"
Suddenly, Siv stopped, her body wobbling on the narrow ledge. Neither going forward nor backward. Jack watched in confusion as Siv's right hand drifted slowly toward her head.
"Siv?"
The swaying of her body was getting worse. Right before Jack's eyes, Siv teetered dangerously and fell.
"SIV!"
Jack sprinted as the tower creaked louder with each step as the fear of watching the girl plummet overtook any concern about her own balance. There wasn't time to think—only to act.
With a final, desperate leap, Jack grabbed Siv's wrist just before she disappeared over the side.
"I got you!" Jack hollered. "Pull up!"
At first, Siv didn't move. Not a nod, a twitch, nothing. But before Jack feared the worst, slowly, Siv shook her head, eyes clearing. Finally comprehending the peril she found herself in, horrified.
"Come on!" the brunette urged, pulling her over the railing.
Once they were both safely on the more stable part of the fallen tower, Jack immediately checked on the young runner—Siv lay down, curled up like a fetus, hands on head and knees buckled, like something heavy was upon her.
"You could've gotten yourself killed!" Jack snapped, before noticing something trickling down her forehead. "Siv, your head."
Blood—she must have hit it against the metal when she fell.
"S-Sorry…" Siv apologized, barely hearing her. That terrified Jack. "Just had... a bit of a spasm."
"A seizure?"
Siv didn't reply, deepening Jack's concerns—people can have normal reasons for sudden seizures but in this outbreak, the answer was obvious. Jack carefully examined Siv's arm, turning it over.
A week-old bite mark.
"You were bitten too," Jack murmured, more to herself than Siv.
Her heart sank. Now she understood why Mahir said she was on time-out.
"Siv? Siv. When was your last Antizin dosage?"
"Three days ago… But I shouldn't be feeling the effects this soon..."
"What?" That little piece of info was strange. But it wasn't important right now. "We're going back to the Junction."
"No! No," Siv protested, forcing herself back to her feet, but the effort only caused her to tumble. Jack was there, grabbing her arms to help her regain her balance while Siv squeezed her eyes tightly, as if trying to will the fits away. "We have to get to that drop first!"
"There will always be other airdrops. Not another Siv. Now let's go back-"
"I-I'm fine!" Siv pushed herself upright again, holding out her hands with her palms flat. "See? No shakes. It's just a fluke... I'll get another dose afterward."
Jack held her silence for a moment, waiting the young lass to reconsider and follow her back. In this changing world, stubbornness could lead a person down a one-way trip over the edge. But Siv simply frowned even more—visually telling her she'd leave her behind and get the drop herself.
Jack sighed. That hardheaded attitude reminded her too much of her past rival. One last glance at Siv showed that she seemed fine for now.
But what about the next time?
"We should do something about the bleeding," Jack added once they reached solid concrete.
"I'm fine. It's not like I'm going to get infected again," Siv replied, brushing off the concern.
"The other side. Let's get over there first."
Siv seemed reluctant at first but nodded; no further argument. Jack stayed close, watching her every step, ready to catch her if she collapsed.
"We should do something about the bleeding," she proposed once they reached solid concrete.
"I'm fine. It's not like I'm gonna get infected again."
Jack crossed her arms with a disapproving frown. How could she get it through her head?
"First important rule. Your body is your tool. So don't go being a fool and injure yourself."
"Who said that kind of philosophical shit?"
"My manager. Mert." Siv's scoffed face immediately scrunched up. Like she had spat on someone's grandfather's grave. But Jack didn't take it as an offense. "He's right though. Now sit tight."
This time, there wasn't any fighting from the youngster. So she was gonna listen to an adult this one time.
"Gauze. And alcohol... That's a simple task a Granny like you can do."
Cocky girl but that was good. Meant her spirit hadn't left her.
"Sure. We'll fix that 'boo-boo' in no time," Jack shot back, earning a brief glare before searching for the materials. It wasn't too difficult with a bathroom downstairs—gauze and alcohol. Duct tape was a nice blessing to find too.
When Jack returned, Siv snatched the gauze.
"I got this." Siv went ahead applying the bandages herself despite Jack's scowl at her brash self-reliance. "Ssssk!"
The young Runner winced at the alcohol's sting, but she didn't falter. So she knew basic first aid.
"...Primitive but it'll work," she mumbled to herself. Once she saw the puzzled expression from the Wild Dog, she continued. "My mom's friend... They're both physicians."
"We should still get Doc to check on you-"
"Look, I'm fine. I don't need stitches," Siv insisted, grimacing at the ex-kickboxer's skeptical look. The girl was clearly grasping for excuses. "Nothing good has come our way this entire week. You weren't here… And, and…it's dampening everyone's mood-"
"Alright, alright," Jack answered begrudgingly.
This girl really didn't have the word, 'quit', in her dictionary but Jack would give her credit for that attempt of a motivational speech.
Better for her to stay with Jack until they'd return to the Junction than for Siv to run off.
"But the moment you start feeling the fits again, I'm taking you back."
Siv scoffed, leaping right onto her feet. Right as rain. "You should be smashing my brains out before that happens. Come on. We're getting close."
The runner trotted off, already scaling the building's interior.
Jack lingered for a moment, watching her go.
"Yeah… Let's just hope that never happens, princess…"
A/N: Writing these chapters as well as revamping old chapters for the Descent are somehow enjoyable to me because I think the rhythm is like playing a game. As well as any chapter that has Jack's color personality in it (ok, I think for any writer out there, writing their OC is always fun to do). She's kinda like Chole from Uncharted, with a bit of fury from Rachel from Animorphs and several traits from the Leverage series.
Anyhow, this chapter has helped me a bit more on how to shape the game world up. I've been doing intensive research to make a neighboring city to Harran and finding the historical name, Scanderoon (which btw, the current city we know today is called İskenderun, a district in the Hattay province, on the Mediterranean coast of Turkey). What my ideal city is gonna be will also offer a lot of things, like quests, landmarks, means to travel other than parkour, etc.
Anyhow, hope you guys like this chapter and actually, I've finished the next draft of chapter two. So I think really soon, once I'm done with editing, I can upload it! :D
16/10/19 - Revamped chapter 2 and took a bit from chp 3. You might expect one later chp to be a gap down the line if you're binging through. Be patient and the new chps will be up/replaced. Enjoy.
22/10/19 - Reedited for minor mistakes and errors.
13/8/20 - Reedited minor parts.
6/2/21 - Reedited some parts, added new lines according to changed timestamp. Improved dialogue between Jack and Siv, changed Siv's backstory structure.
15/2/22 - Went over a full chapter edit with some fixes, retwists, deletes and adjustments. Removed dialogue info dump from Mahir and Bones to save for later.
6/7/22 - Edited some of Siv's dialogues and other lines.
6/10/22 - Edited some lines. Streamlined some dialogues.
15/3/23 - Edited several lines and made fixes, streamlined some dialogues for better structure.
26/3/23 - Small edit on timeline and city quarantine area
31/12/23 - Final fixes and changes, I hope
21/12/24 - Reedted some parts to be more streamlined and removed some unwanted text.