Chapter Summary
- ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER
We were a few miles away from reaching the Terminus. Then these two suddenly came on the tracks. Trying to get my attention and stop the train. Shouting for help. And it isn't because of the Biters after them.
I already have a bad feeling of what this might be about. - Kyle
TWENTY-EIGHT: BIRDS OF A FEATHER
"Please help us!" the jumping survivor hollered.
A moment ago, he was at his lowest. And when his friend spotted smoke in the distance, streaming away, he thought he was pulling his leg.
No one used the tracks anymore, not since the city fell and the virus spread into the Border.
But the noises of a train grew louder. And for a second, he almost couldn't believe what he saw—a moving train. In all of this chaos.
Meaning survivors.
A chance!
So they both darted to the tracks. He frantically bounced up and down, praying for the driver to see them. Please, stop the train!
At first, he thought they didn't. That they would ignore them. But out of the front cab bolted a brunette in a flashy red jacket. And after her, a hooded guy while the train behind them slowed to a crawl.
Thank goodness! There really were people!
And yet, the problem swarming after them. All because he yelled as loud as he could.
Flicking his gaze sideways, his eyes back to his friend fighting off a Biter.
Anyone would know: any loud noise would attract the Virals. One was already closing in, sprinting full tilt toward them, its ragged shrieks cutting through the air.
The other survivor still had his blade in the infected's chest, shoving its corpse away.
He didn't have enough time to react to the next walker.
"Atlas!"
Whack!
Like a broken marionette, the Viral toppled down to the ground before it reached the two survivors.
Jack stepped in—a quick pivot, a firm stance—swung her weapon and cracked open its skull like a watermelon. She planted herself as the survivors' shield for the next infected lunging from the left.
A blur shot at the charging Biter.
Crane sank his talons into its skull. A sickening crunch into dirt, then he twisted its head with inhuman ease. He tossed the body aside and turned, already scanning for the next threat.
Broad daylight, and outside one of the densest areas of the Border? The common stragglers came hounding after the humans.
And yet, something was off. Two, three Biters could turn into a horde—not even Jack would linger too long, forced to go high ground or somewhere safe before it got too overwhelming. She had expected more Biters to come stumbling out of the bushes and the faraway alleys.
A few Virals in the back skidded to a stop, angry. Snarling. Before they slunk back into the shadows.
Strange behavior. Was something holding them back?
Or was it because of Freakazoid, with how intense his glare had been towards them?
It hadn't been the first time those uncommon infected showed hostility toward one another, like animals guarding their territory against a bigger threat.
She'd count it a blessing as she hammered at another persistent Biter. One by one, each taken down by the survivor with his knife, Jack and Crane, until the handful of Biters lay motionless at their feet.
"Everyone in one piece?" Jack turned to the two survivors, already shifting gears into taking control of the situation.
"Yeah," the survivor with the knife said, catching his breath.
His friend stumbled forward, the panic and hope still evident in his eyes. "Please. You have to help us!"
"Tell us what happened," Jack said softly. Her presence as always, calm and ironclad.
"It's Rais' men."
The answer was almost expected. In the middle of an outbreak, there would be one out of three main problems: the walkers, bandits or on a rare day, GRE. So to Jack, it was another day for the unfortunate. Like at the Outskirts, and in Scanderoon.
Nothing new, but nothing good either.
Jack side-eyed at her partner. Just as he had disdain at the banner from earlier, he gave that same expression when hearing the name like a curse he couldn't shake off.
"They've taken our safe zone. Doing whatever they want and ransacking our supplies."
"The usual," Freakazoid spat.
The survivor nodded, recognizing the hardened certainty in the hooded man's tone—he had crossed paths with those bandits before. "Ever since their leader bit the dust, they've gotten worse than before. Like animals."
"Survival of the fittest," Jack pointed out, the old saying ringing true in times like now.
"How long ago?" Freakazoid then quickly asked, all prepared to jump into his heroics.
"Thirty minutes ago," the survivor answered. "If it weren't for Atlas here, we wouldn't have been able to sneak out."
"Saw your smoke from afar," the other survivor, Atlas, explained. "Figured we could get help."
"Where's your safe zone?" Jack added the next question.
"The Night Market. Please, you have to bring backup and stop those bandits," Atlas' friend begged.
Jack smiled. "You already have it."
"Wha-" He looked at her, baffled. Then at her partner. "You're not planning to fight them off by yourselves?"
"Keep an eye out on our train, would you, hons?"
Jack wheeled on her heel, off in the direction of the Night Market—she remembered visiting it once long before the outbreak. Several blocks in, meaning they'd have to cut through the infected to make their way there.
Crane's footsteps matched Jack's as he followed her without hesitation. No questions, no second thoughts.
It was back onto the saddle, something he had been fully prepared for since returning to Harran. He had the experience dealing with the likes of them in the Slums. Same with Alexander's men in Scanderoon.
He wasn't about to let any thug run rampant like always.
The survivor stared, wide-eyed, at the two Runners. The very place they had escaped with their lives to find help, and they were going into danger without a second thought!
Those were bandits!
He wanted to call them back—they were going to get themselves killed!—but Atlas stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and a knowing look.
Those two Runners had a job to do, and they would see it through.
His friend swallowed hard, reluctantly watching their saviors shrink into the distance.
All they could do was hope. As he had been hoping since the start.
The Night Market had seen better days.
Ever since Harran fell into quarantine, life in the Border's zones had teetered on the edge of chaos and collapse. Then the virus seeped out of the Slums' cracks months ago.
Like every other ward and district, they became homes for the infected.
The market was a hush of its former self, and yet ironically still clung to life. Its streets and bricked paths used to have a lively buzz of voices and bartering, stalls brimmed with food and goods.
Now, only silence and tension filled the once-thriving marketplace.
The iron-wrought fence barricading the Night Market had been the residents' main barricade since the early days of the outbreak. Then reinforced it with more defenses to call it their Safe Zone. Their home.
Who would have expected it would end up trapping them the moment the bandits forced their way in?
"Quit wasting my time."
One old resident could do nothing but cower—head down, held by the collar—as he was shoved into the same huddle in the far back as the others. A hit to the eye, because he helped those two young men escape.
"What are we going to do about those escapees?"
"Those freaks will eat them anyway."
There was a time when the focus was on the infected. Then a time when scavengers and power-hungry deserters became a second problem. Then that problem escalated in the form of yellow and black.
These bandits were everywhere now.
"There's still that smoke we saw."
"Who cares. C'mon. Take everything you can carry."
"There's nothing else, Kasper," one of the bandits snapped back. "This place is as bare bones as the rest of the district."
Kasper, the one taking lead on this ragtag band, grimaced. No, they couldn't be that short of supplies.
Things hadn't been the same since the Slums. Several groups had been out raiding only to return to Headquarters and find most of everyone dead. One thing led to another—they made their way into the Border in the recent weeks following.
They had to keep going. Adapting. Surviving.
That had been the change in their philosophy. It was like starting all over again in the early days of the pandemic.
But the days of easy pickings were long gone. Every place they hit was either already picked clean or too dangerous to bother with. Same with this recent raid.
What everyone had gathered so far wouldn't last them for two weeks.
"Where the hell is Grim at?" he then asked.
"We don't know. Guy's already a lost cause, isn't he?" one of the rookies scoffed.
It didn't help that their number was shrinking, despite their cautious vigilance. Every other day or so, they'd lose one to a Viral or Volatile. And even if they could survive an encounter, a bite would doom them. There hadn't been Antizin for months.
They were all too scattered for any form of structure.
Rais' gang had been crumbling. And Rais was dead.
No point in holding the name anymore.
"Maybe we should call it quits."
"Are you serious?" one snapped, baffled to hear such a daring suggestion.
"You heard me. Rais is dead. We haven't heard anything from Kaan either!"
Those words hung in the air, like an unspoken truth. They had no leader. No clear purpose. No reason to keep fighting for scraps. The fire they had burning inside a month ago had dwindled to embers.
They all knew it.
"He was insane to believe there was something in the Countryside."
Yes, he was. Kasper agreed quietly.
But still, they were banking on him succeeding…whatever it was.
Then radio silence since. Meaning he was dead too.
"Face it. It doesn't matter if any of us get infected.. We're all good as dead."
"So call it quits?" Kasper spat, glaring back at the protester. Boring into him. Take that machete and put it to their throat if he wanted to take the final step.
That shut the protester down. He didn't have the gall to do it.
"You think it's that easy?"
It had never been easy, and Kasper knew just as much as every other newbie who joined the gang. To become one of Rais' soldiers, one had to leave all notions of civilization behind.
There was no room for weakness, no mercy for the uncommitted.
No redemption once that line of brutality had been crossed.
He hadn't forgotten his initiation. His first kill. His first real acknowledgment into the faction. Kasper had come a long way since then.
All of it coming to an end thanks to that new guy who backstabbed them.
"You're welcome to walk away. Leave it behind," Kasper's voice hardened, sarcasm dancing with cold and callousness. "...Where the hell would you go?"
Nowhere.
The quarantine walls were still up. They were nothing but rats trapped in a storm drain.
"Ain't nobody getting out of this shit-storm," he stated that fact, brutally clean and cut. "You joined the ranks because you had nowhere else to go. And there's nothing left once you leave for good."
A few underlings shifted uneasily, glancing at each other. Another uncomfortable truth they had turned a blind eye on since swearing fealty to Rais, sold on his ideology.
Those second thoughts still lingered in the back of their minds. What was the point of drifting though? Even so, Kasper wasn't wrong either.
They were in too deep.
"Kasper!"
He turned to see one of the scouts from the gates running towards him, with a wild look in his eyes.
"What is it?" he groaned. If it wasn't some food truck they could go after, he didn't want to hear it.
"There's a woman at the front gates."
Kasper frowned. "And?"
So a woman was outside a Safe Zone. What of it-
"I-I think I've seen her face before," the scout blabbered. "She's some famous kickboxer."
That made his frown deepen but his brow knitted in confusion.
He picked up his pace, heading for the gate. If this was some new kind of crazy, he needed to see it for himself.
Sure enough, the scout was right—a woman in red. Armed. Calm, almost too at ease for someone out in the open, surrounded by the infected.
She was just standing there. Smiling.
"Get lost, lady," one of the enforcers warned with a wave of his machete.
"Is that any way to start a conversation for a regular visitor?" the woman in red chided. "Tsk tsk… Really is the dark times."
A few heads exchanged glances. Confused. Was this woman delusional?
"What do you want?" Kasper asked, crossing his arms and squaring his shoulders.
She tilted her head. "Good question. What do I want?"
That got a few riled up. "This isn't a game, miss. Don't you know who we are?"
"No clue."
Kasper jerked his head, shocked. Her one-tone reply threw them off—had she no idea of their reputation or the fear they inspire?
"Just came into town to see the sights again," she continued nonchalantly, giving the market's entrance a leisurely once-over. "Pity… this place used to be so lively."
"This woman's lost her marbles," another enforcer whispered behind Kasper.
Enough of this game. They shouldn't be dealing with another crackpot.
"Turn around and walk away. 'Less you want that pretty face of yours to be scratched up," he warned.
He's never held back. And he wouldn't hold back because it was a woman.
"Can't do that, I'm afraid. Two youngsters filled in on what happened here."
Kasper grimaced. So those escapees found help after all.
"If I were you, I'd leave soon before things get ugly," the brunette warned cheerfully. "Save you the trouble."
"Oh yeah? And who's going to stop us?" Kasper scoffed.
"The cavalry, mate."
A few chuckles rippled through the group, low and amused.
"You think you can handle all of us on your own?" the enforcer let out a sharp scoff..
The laughter grew louder, spreading infectiously among the ranks. Was she serious? A one-woman army against them?
Kasper let out a dry chuckle of his own. But it died first and quickly.
Because her grin stretched a little wider.
Wait-
"Gargh!"
The shout came from the back. Kasper wheeled around, barely a glimpse, to see a guard yanked off his feet. Some thick rope had tightened around their neck, pulling them back with a swift, brutal tug.
All of a sudden, that guard fell like a ragdoll. With a knife wound in the abdomen.
Near the holding pen stood a hooded man, covered up. Something sharp was in his hand that suddenly disappeared.
Crane was already in motion when all eyes darted to the guard's death, then to him.
Four months had truly been unkind to those leftover loyalists after Rais' death. They had lost their usual proud swagger every time Kyle met a pack of bandits out in the Slums. It was replaced with a wary, desperate edge.
Some wore makeshift armor, others wrapped their arms in leather or metal plating: bite guards.
The same men who once held power over the city, were reduced to back-alley scavengers.
Karma fucking bit them back.
The second guard swung his machete. A second too late, because Crane already parried that attack. One hard kick down to the leg, a snap, and the guard wailed at his broken femur.
Crane wasn't holding back, even if he was a super zombie now.
"Stop him!" Kasper roared. How did that bastard get in-!
Clnk! The iron bars behind him rattled, followed by a sharp metallic creak as weight shifted—scrrrch!
His instincts screamed at him to turn, and he whipped around in time.
That smile on a pretty face twisted into a toothy grin. The woman in red scaled the fence at that one moment of uproar, then sprang off the top. She was airborne.
Weapon already raised over her shoulder.
CRACK!
A sudden impact against his skull sent him sprawling, stars exploding behind his eyes. The world spun as he hit the ground. Hard.
Everything stirred violently around him, voices deafened.
Through the haze, he watched helplessly. Something red flashed before his eyes. His men scattered, some fighting, some panicking.
Some dying by the two intruders.
Then someone grabbed his arm.
"Let's get out of here!"
Kasper staggered back onto his feet, still hearing the ringing in his ears. All he could do was be dragged away by a fellow comrade.
He took one last look back. One look at his dwindling crew. The newcomers capitalized on the woman's distraction and that guy's opening, turning the tide around in an instant.
Those two are insane!
Kasper gritted his teeth, terror and anger swelling inside his chest. He knew when to call it quits when it meant he could live another day. And right now, that was to swallow his pride and get the hell out.
They hadn't just lost the fight before it even started. They had been hunted.
"It's safe."
Once the chaos died down, the scared residents raised their heads. Eyes wide at the hooded man coming to them. He stood a short distance from them but held a stance like a hero at their darkest times. Like this hadn't been his first time.
No more guards, no more Rais' men. The Night Market had been liberated.
"Thank you." One of them climbed onto his feet and walked into the sunlight. Gradually, the residents stepped out; one tended to the poor old man for the head injury. "Both of you."
"We were just in the right place at the right time," Crane said.
He had been controlling his voice this whole time, and so far, anyone who encountered 'Freakazoid' didn't flinch or jump at the sound of it. Good. Just someone with a bad cough to them.
"Not a second too late. Any longer and things could have turned for the worse. Name's Felix," the man introduced.
"Cr-" Crane stopped quickly. Almost out of habit. "Kevin."
He glanced over to the brunette strolling towards them.
"Jack Brecken."
"I thought I recognized you." Jack's smile widened at Felix's response. "Been a while."
A nod back. "You're still holding out well."
"Same can be said for you. But I wouldn't expect anything less from you."
Jack chuckled and turned to Crane with a harmless question out of this small talk. "You much of a reader, partner?"
"I've read a couple, yeah." He spied a little raise of her eyebrow, the hint of amusement.
What kind of books, pray tell? Or before or after your transformation?
"A few good novels," he boasted. "Sometimes self-improvement books. If I have the time."
"Hmm," Jack hummed. Interesting. "Felix's stall here is a real treasure trove. He can get you anything you want."
Felix shrugged his shoulders, a little deflated. "Not anymore. Hard to make requests when every bookstore is now kindling."
"Hang on. The Wild Dog?"
Out of the relaxed crowd in the marketplace, one guy perked up at the name and wandered closer, just to get a better look at the woman in red. Interjecting himself into a conversation of three without asking first if he could be invited.
"The one and only," Jack droned.
The man's eyes roamed over her.
"Huh. You don't really look the part."
"And what part is that?"
"The crazy bitch part," he said without a shred of tact.
Jack smirked. "I do play that very well."
"Too well. I've heard the one in Italy was brutal."
"Sienna? She bounced right back up fast after that match," Jack remarked. "Hon is a 'war machine' after all."
"Still, you had some crazy knockouts. But with all those achievements under your belt, you've never really been in the spotlight for anything big."
Crane's eyes narrowed. He had heard that tone before—the downplaying. Always gotta be that one guy who tried to undercut anyone's accomplishments without outright saying it to their face. He didn't hold back on a retired female athlete, even.
But what stopped him was Jack tilting her head with amusement, letting him run his mouth.
She had been through this kind of treatment before—enough times to know when to let them dig their own grave.
"So why haven't you gone mainstream?"
"Didn't see the need to. I fought the best and held that title for as long as I could."
"Until Jade Aldemir beat you."
"That's how the records show it."
"C'mon," The remark came out of the blue—that he grew impatient with Jack's matter-of-factness. Getting too confident for his own good. "You don't hold any grudge at all…? Your management must have told you to keep your lips this tight."
"What's your point?"
Her tone remained the same level, a little flat, but the question caught Crane's attention the most.
As if daring the man to stop beating around the bush. She was losing her patience.
Crane peered over to her for a reaction, and sure enough.
Jack's smile was gone.
"I'm saying there's always two sides to the story, and I wanna hear yours. People are still saying that match went too clean."
Crane frowned. Was he trying to insinuate something there or parroting some nonsense?
Either way, he didn't like where this was going.
"Hey," Felix intruded with a warning tone—same feeling as Crane had. But it didn't reach the moron's ears.
"She knocked out the most infamous kickboxer of all time just like that? Hell, it was so serious, you landed in the hospital."
Crane felt those words hit harder than they should have, and it wasn't directed at him.
Because it reminded him of that one dream; that it lined up with what he saw—Jack, lying on the ground, defeated.
It left an uncanny feeling...
"And there are those rumors. People said you weren't in peak shape-"
"If you're looking for a juicy story to earn yourself a few extra rations, then I suggest you try somewhere else."
The guy staggered—where did that come from? But before he attempted some half-hearted defense, Jack's aloof expression made it clear she wasn't entertaining another word.
The Wild Dog was still standing in front of him.
"Jade gave it her all and won. That's all that matters, isn't it?"
No hesitation, no bitterness—this time, it wasn't for show.
In the short time Crane had known Jade, he'd seen many sides of her, but still barely scratched the surface. Since meeting Jack, he'd learned more about the siblings than he ever expected.
Now, hearing Jack speak about Jade like that, it was clear that she had always held her in the highest regard.
That the Wild Dog wouldn't hesitate to cut down anyone bad-mouthing her.
"We should get going." Jack turned to Felix, her posture somewhat easing. "Catch you again, Felix."
"My shop's always open."
And that was it. Jack headed to the entrance, and Felix turned back to the residents, checking everyone after their ordeal with the bandits. With all the chaos cleared, Crane glanced at Jack's retreating figure, his feet following without much thought.
"...Bitch."
Ok, that was it. But by the time Crane spun around, the windbag had already left—before Kyle had the chance to tell him off. He shook his head and let it go.
They had stayed long enough at the Safe Zone.
He continued after Jack, watching her back the entire time. Not a peep out of her. When they returned to the Eastward, she offered Atlas and his friend a few calming words. Relieved, the two survivors went back to the Night Market.
It was much shorter than her usual banter.
Then it was quiet the entire ride back to the Terminus. No joke. No small talk. Nothing between them. But Crane knew all too well that sometimes silence was for the better, leaving Jack be.
It stayed that way towards the end.
The train slowly crept into the Terminus, wheels screeching faintly against the tracks as they rolled to a stop at the Train Depot. Where everyone had been waiting for them.
"Here you go. One intact train."
This time, Crane took the helm. The engineer, Tunc, had been waiting for their arrival—his face particularly beaming with anticipation but he quickly hid it away once Crane stepped out of the front cab.
Right away, Tunc took a quick look, his years of experience telling him what to watch for.
Hopefully. So far, Crane hadn't spied any severe damage and the train had driven down the rail tracks smoothly.
"So?" he asked.
Tunc stepped back after his inspection. A soft nod. Then it grew into more nods. "This will work."
"How long do you think you'll be finished with the repairs?"
The engineer let out a quiet sigh through his nose. "It's more than just repairs… Took us weeks working on Hiliz. So maybe half the time. Just a matter of enough scraps and for Spike's group to follow through on their task."
"Exactly what are you planning to do with a train?" Crane couldn't help but ask.
Tunc was sharp-eyed at him, perhaps holding back the reason to an outsider covered from head to toe. But he continued; secrecy wasn't worth it, not after everything they'd done for the Terminus.
"Guess nobody told you," Tunc started. "Plan to use it through the Quarantine Wall and into the tunnel."
Crane blinked, taking a minute to digest that, but Tunc's deadpan face barely twitched.
The idea was crazy. Every and any dark place was a death trap with Volatile Nests, and Crane had been through a few himself and lived. If he had to guess, the main tunnel to Scanderoon wasn't even any better.
And the distance was much longer than tunnels like the Bright Mountain Tunnel.
"You're serious."
"None of us wants to rot in Harran any longer," Tunc explained with honesty. And tiredness. "If no one's coming to rescue us, then we gotta do the rescuing ourselves."
"I've seen what's inside those kinds of places before. It's suicide for one person," Crane added but that little information didn't so much as make Tunc flinch.
"And you got out of those places alive, right?" he gave his counterargument, collected.
Barely. Crane scratched his neck sheepishly. "I wouldn't recommend anyone trying."
The stubborn engineer continued. "Not saying we're going in recklessly. We're turning this old girl into a beast. Ram those Nests and any debris as hard as she can go."
Hence the scrap metal. Lots of scrap metal.
"If it all goes well, then we can make it through in one piece."
"You've had this planned out."
"Yeah… Until those infected destroyed Hiliz." A day after the Terminus' breach and he couldn't truly move on—all the work poured in, the weeks pressed on, the several engineers who lost their lives thanks to that opening and Hiliz went up in flames.
People would call it quits.
But his stubbornness shook it off with steel determination.
Call it quits now and he might as well continue to rot in this city.
"I've learned a lot working on Hiliz. This time, we'll build something that hits back twice as hard against those infected."
Crane watched that fire burn in the older man's eyes. And for a moment, that old familiar ember stirred up in his chest. And he had felt it before.
Back in the Slums and Old Town.
The same said with the residents from the Junction.
And most of all, Jack's blazing flame, as bright as gold.
He did the rough maths before—Harran had been in quarantine for nearly half a year, locked up and forgotten by the government. All while the surrounding towns and cities were hit with the virus.
And yet, even after four months, people were still fighting—inside and outside Harran. Pushing forward, refusing to give in.
The hope was small but it wasn't dying either. And they needed it more than ever.
That was all Crane could ever hope for.
It was then that Tunc's gaze drifted off to one of the other cabs further down, and Crane followed it—only to spot the brunette leaning against the metal, arms crossed, staring off in silence.
Jack hadn't bounced back to her usual self even now.
"She's been real quiet ever since you arrived," he heard Tunc ask. "You two got into a lovers' spat or something?"
The question caught Crane off guard and he had to take a moment to process it as if he had misheard the engineer.
But no, the older guy was completely serious. It wasn't a joke or a casual remark. Just right off the bat with no punchline.
Ok, what was going through the grapevine after they left the Terminus?
"She's going through some personal things at the moment," Crane replied, his tone neutral. He wasn't going to feed into whatever ideas were floating around.
But that wasn't enough of an answer, apparently. At least, that was what he got from Tunc's half-judging sidelong glance. Half-indifferent. He didn't push on the matter, but Crane could tell.
Hey, hold on, he wasn't the cause of Jack's silence.
"Just don't let it fester too long. Bring something nice for her. Flowers always work for my wife."
Tunc genuinely gave advice. Which was touching, sure.
"That's not-"
"Işık!" The senior engineer hollered at one of the engineers. "Get this girl to the repair bay! We got work to do."
And off he went, before Crane could correct the misunderstanding. Eastward's engine roared once again, drowning down his half-attempt at a sentence.
Maybe he should have said something.
A man and a woman together in the middle of this outbreak were sure to get some funny rumors going around. But Crane wasn't one to get distracted by gossip like that. As far as the partnership has been between him and Jack, it's been strictly business.
Yeah.
He shook his head, to really hammer that down. Shoved the outrageous idea out of his head.
He wasn't human anymore to begin with.
"There it goes."
Jack strolled towards him, hands in pockets, as she watched the train rumble forward. All at once, she was herself again—moving with an easy grace, voice chippy as always.
And yet that sting from earlier still lingered.
She glanced up, casting her usual catty smile. "I didn't think we'd be able to pull it off."
Like she forced herself to flip the switch in her head.
"You ok?"
It was a slip of the tongue but this time, Crane didn't hide it. And with a question like that, Jack grinned a little wider.
"...Fine as rain, mate."
The timing, however, was off.
"Jack!"
Crane noticed him before the holler.
Spike hurried over to them with a purpose, but something was off—a rare but jarring flash of worry over the man's aloof face. Something was weighing on him, even among all the other crises.
Crane had a sinking feeling.
Jack wasn't oblivious. She held up her award-winning smile at the Refugee leader and already slipped into her saleswoman pitch as always.
A composed conversation was a cooperative start for the next job.
"What can we do for you, Spike? Need us to track down a supply box. Or do you have someone in mind-"
"Harris is missing."
It was a slap to the face and a cold knot in the gut—Brecken, of all people. And to hear Spike say that he was missing, it was a final and true confirmation of how bad things had really gotten in Harran.
"I've been trying to reach him for days," he explained.
"And still nothing?" Crane asked, almost breaking out of his 'Kevin' character.
Spike shook his head. "He's gone radio silent."
There could be multiple reasons why. Maybe Brecken's comms were faulty, broken. Maybe he was out of range. Maybe he had to be radio silent.
Too many maybes. And he didn't want to think of worst-case scenarios.
Crane tried to think rationally—an impossible task with all of their circumstances happening around them—until he noticed Jack beside him.
Staggered.
The news was enough to make her quiet. Too quiet. Like she hadn't fully caught up with what she just heard. At that moment, her whole facade cracked open, thoughts circling in every direction.
He could only imagine that it hit her harder than it did to him. Because she was pleading.
That it was a joke. Spike was overreacting. Anything.
Then dread washed over her like a cold rush in the middle of summer.
Her cousin was missing.
"How long?"
"Three days," Spike answered, at first surprised at the blunt question Jack tossed his way.
Or maybe he shouldn't. Jack wasn't outright panicking, demanding reassurances as he had seen in other people when faced with the thought of losing their loved ones. Instead, she was working right in front of him, knowing the right questions to hit him with.
Maybe it was her own way to keep calm, because that worry was still present.
"Last I spoke to him, he mentioned seeing uniforms moving near the old Military Base," he continued.
"Any idea where he could have gone?"
"He said he was heading to the Countryside."
Shit. Crane's chest tightened. Of course, that was where Brecken went—where he had gone. The place where everything went to hell.
Why would Brecken do that?
"On his own?"
"No. A few Runners from the Tower tagged along… They wouldn't say no to him leaving on his own."
That made Jack pause.
"To find this friend of yours?"
Spike gave a slow nod, his expression grim. "Yeah."
"Mind telling me more about him?"
The friend that was standing next to Jack. But Crane stayed silent, resisting the urge to stop Spike. It had to come out sooner or later.
"His name is Kyle Crane. A good man. Put himself through hell and back to make sure we have a winning chance…"
Crane almost wanted to correct him; he did go back into hell and never came back the same.
"Four months ago, there was some lead in the Countryside, and he decided to check it out."
"Any idea what this lead is?"
Spike shook his head. "I'm in the dark as you are. Only thing I can remember was something about a way out of Harran."
A dead end. Again, Crane refrained from speaking.
"...Four months is around the time those rumors circulated. Maybe Talo wasn't talking nonsense after all."
"What?"
Jack said nothing to Spike. It came out as a mumble, but her gaze was sharpened and her brow was furrowed behind her sunglasses. A piece of the puzzle she had brushed off became somewhat relevant. And? That didn't help her.
Her fists tightened.
"It's not much to go on… I can mobilize my crew to look for Brecken," Spike offered.
"No. You're needed more than ever to help out the Terminus. Stick with the plan no matter what."
Jack's mind had been made up. Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away for the Terminus' exit.
"You're going alone?" Spike asked, baffled when there was everything else happening outside the Safe Zones.
"Do you need to ask?" she said. "I'm getting Harris back."
Crane watched as she headed off without him. That she wouldn't slow down or stop for a moment—think rationally and bring Freakazoid into the conversation first—like always.
What did her client want before she'd make her next step with him. That's been their routine.
Jack had always been the one who set the groundworks, always had a backup plan and another up her sleeve, whether it was literally giving a headbutt or not. To her, a job was a job; emotions came second.
But this time, it was personal.
This time Jack didn't look back. This time she planned to find Brecken on her own without a second thought to include Freakazoid.
This was her problem. Hers alone.
It felt too familiar. The resemblances were uncanny that it brought back an old fear in Crane.
Jade had been like this too. That same stubborn drive, the same silent refusal to let anyone in. Right up until the end. And he tried to stop her; followed her all the way to Old Town.
After Rahim's death, Jade was never the same. And Jade…
That was why he was so terrified, watching Jack's back shrink away.
He bolted. His pace, quick and picking up.
Crane wasn't going to let that happen ever again.
So he called after her. "Jack."
Not even a peek over her shoulder. "Whatever you have to say, I don't have the patience, Freakazoid."
But Crane didn't back down. "You can spare a minute with me."
He sped up—though for being a reformed zombie, he closed the gap faster than he would have as a human. He was already in front of her, and to put it lightly, that halt irritated her.
"There's enough on your plate to worry about," was her counterargument.
"You're going to pull that on me?" His voice wasn't angry, just as much stubbornness as Jack had.
"This is my problem-" Her voice, however, was low and simmering. A warning not to get into her business.
But Crane cut her. "Because he's your family."
Family. The word hit her hard, cracked into her armor as she clenched her teeth tight. And she searched for anything in Freakazoid's gaze. A subtle cue in his body language.
No. It was an acknowledgment. Understanding her plight.
And he wouldn't take no from her again.
"Jack. I'm your partner. I'm not letting you do this on your own."
This bloody fool was doing it again; coming to someone's aid like always.
Jack should've seen it coming. Hell, she had seen it coming. But, for once, she had no idea what to do with it.
She had always gone with the flow, but not without giving one or two reality checks at him.
He couldn't always save everyone.
"You know Harran better than me," Freakazoid pushed. Relentlessly with reasoning. "So lead the way."
But despite Jack's harsh reminders, he was still going to come to her aid.
And even if she were to decline it once more, he'd just tail after her with those annoying infected capabilities of his.
She sighed, yielding on the spot.
"Good grief, what am I gonna do with you…"
Crane didn't take it as an insult. If anything, her voice had lost some of its earlier bite. Good.
Jack spared a few more seconds; a breathe-in, a breathe-out. Then pondered quietly; putting the bigger picture together in her head and planning out the next step like always.
"Alright." Her tone was all business now. "Let's get to high ground."
No argument there.
The two Runners exited through the Train Depot's gate, Jack taking the lead towards an open lot and there, one of many cargo warehouses.
They only needed one and Jack took the closest fire escape. First, up a cargo crate, then a jump onto the stairs' rusted railing and a straight climb for both of them to reach the top—Freakazoid a little faster but always looking back, always waiting.
On the flat rooftop, Crane scanned the skyline as far as he could see. Mountains and the ocean. Just like the Slums.
The Border stretched like a jagged strip between the city and nature. To their south, Harran docks and the open sea. To the west and over the mountains, Scanderoon. To the east, beyond Bright Mountain Tunnel, the Slums.
Further inland was all new territory for Crane.
"Harris' goal is the Countryside," Jack started, fishing out her binoculars and holding them to Freakazoid. "So only way of getting there from here is cutting into the Pilgrim's Vale."
Crane took them from her hands while she pointed to the farthest part of the Border. There, hidden by the trees and rough terrain, he spotted the stone pillars of a viaduct.
If he remembered correctly about Harran's outer layouts, beyond that should be the valley, the Pilgrim's Vale.
And onwards, the Countryside.
All train tracks went everywhere in Harran, including the Countryside. But those tunnels would also be just as much a feeding ground as any tunnel.
"That's where he'd go," Jack added. "I'm sure of it."
"He's not planning to go through one of those infested tunnels?"
"My cousin's no fool. But even with the best tools, scaling the terrain is almost near impossible."
Oh, he agreed with her there, being reminded all too much about his way out of Harran.
Crane remembered the map that one-eyed survivor. He could still recall the exact route—out of the city's sewers and into a natural pocket that led him to the cliffs, where he could see the end of the valley's river pass below and all of the Countryside.
The supposed way out of Harran.
"If he has any sense, he should stop right outside the Viaduct… But this is my cousin we're talking about. Stubborn little muppet," Jack cursed.
She didn't hide that exasperated tone.
So this was the kind of relationship she and Brecken had. It reminded Crane of his cousins he spent a few summers in Fairbury long ago.
Pieces of shit but they always had his back.
Crane held back a laugh; how funny to remember that side of the family after so many years.
And he'd never see any of them ever again.
He pushed those melancholic thoughts aside and continued surveying their surroundings. Get to know the way of the land.
His gaze drifted past the Viaduct, following the jagged treeline, when something caught his eye. It stuck out in faded blue and with a worn-out image of 'a family', standing against an abandoned road.
Crane could roughly make out some text… Where Tomorrow Begins!
"What's that billboard beside the Viaduct?"
"Billboard?"
Crane handed back the binoculars and pointed in the direction of the large promotional sign. She adjusted the focus, squinting against the glare of the sun.
"Huh," she hummed, admittedly surprised. "That must be New Town."
Right. He recalled that name from his debriefing before dropping into Harran—just another location to keep in mind, like the rest. He hadn't given much thought about the Outskirts, though—because he believed it was a lost cause from the very start.
Written off as another dead sector.
Then again, he hadn't expected to visit the Border either. So who knows.
"Wasn't that some development project?" he asked.
Jack nodded. "Finished nearly a decade ago. Guess the government forgot to take that sign down."
"Any chance your cousin would cut through the Outskirts instead?"
The brunette pondered—it was possible—but her brow gradually furrowed. "...It will take twice as long. And even then, that way's the old maintenance tunnels."
"Which could mean more infected nests."
The doubt spread on her face, but Jack, as always, forced logic over emotion.
"It's a gamble," she started. "But he has a better chance there than with the Viaduct. And if he's lucky, he might run into Ta-"
The sudden pause mid-sentence drew Crane's attention away from their surroundings to see Jack's shades sinking along the bridge of her nose.
"...Talo's group."
It was as if she had been hit by lightning.
No, it was that she had just remembered something.
The realization hit like a jolt. Jack moved before she even fully processed it, already yanking her earpiece from her sling bag. She had to calm herself from nearly walking off.
"Talo. Do you read?"
Nothing but white noise.
"Anyone else on the line…?" With every passing second of silence, Jack's firm voice wavered. "…We might be too far away."
"You think he might not have changed channels?"
A possibility, her face read. Talo's group was still on the move around the time Asem made the decision to switch channels.
Wherever they were, thick walls blocked the signal.
She drew her earpiece back to her ear as she switched back to the old channel, only to be suddenly stopped by a claw grab on her wrist.
Nothing brutal, simply a hold that told her to 'wait.'
"GRE might still be listening," he said.
And she agreed with a nod. "...That's a risk I have to take then."
"Then you're not going in alone."
Charming as always. Did he just know the right kind of words without thinking of how that could send the wrong message? But Jack appreciated the reassurance nonetheless.
Although it hadn't been that long since they started their mutual partnership, Freakazoid had voiced his complaints to her: the distance he put himself with the Ravens and anyone they met, and the daredevil stunts Jack would pull without consulting with her 'client'.
But those hurdles Freakazoid put down had crumbled over time, showing a part of what was 'human' about him every now and then. That moxie of his had rubbed off on her as well.
And that made the lingering doubt in Jack a little easier to ignore.
"Any pissass desk-job jockeys listening in?" she uttered through the comms. Full-swing Mad Jack.
It was vague. Vulgar. But not specific. And even if the GRE did pick that up, they had nothing to go on.
The line still remained quiet, however.
She sighed. But not defeated. "Was hoping we could have another search party on the other side of the Border-"
"Shh!"
Jack reeled back, surprised. Was she just hushed?
Freakazoid took her hand up to his ear, his head down, and pressed on her earpiece, as if that would make any difference to hear one single sound under the static.
That prompted her to turn the volume higher. What did he hear with those sensitive ears?
But there was something in the white noise.
The pattern was subtle and faint, almost blending with the white noise.
Dots and dashes.
Dot, dash, dot, dot… Dot, dot… Dash… Dash… Dot, dash, dot, dot… Dot…
Over and over, they repeated. Deliberately. Someone was sending a message to the right people who could decipher it. So soft no nosy listeners would pick on it.
Dash, dot, dot, dot… Dot, dot… Dot, dash, dot… Dash, dot, dot.
"...'Little bird'?" Kyle completed the translation.
To anyone and even himself, they wouldn't understand the code's true message. Any GRE operator would think it was some moron trolling them.
But Jack did.
"Talo, you bloody brilliant bumpkin."
Then she hurried over to the edge with her small binoculars in hand. She searched high for something she immediately knew was coming.
What? A plane?
Crane joined in on the search, though completely clueless as to what.
"They don't mean a literal bird-"
Crane didn't continue his sentence once he spotted a tiny dot in the gray sky.
Fifty feet away. It swooshed, glided, and circled gradually to the warehouse's rooftop. As if looking for something amidst the ruins.
"Phwwwwwhht!"
Jack's whistle cut through the air, a crisp note over the distant moans. She then took off her sunglasses and held them high up, angling the lenses towards the bright sun.
A series of brief glints flashed at the speck in the distance. Attractive to any scavenger like gold.
That was a clever idea, if Crane's hunch was right.
The little speck dipped into a shallow glide and sped up—towards them. It had found a new goal; the shiny thing.
Lower and lower, towards the human with the flashy red jacket.
And as if already anticipating what was to come, Jack hid her shades down but lifted her free arm up like a perch gifted to the flyer.
Talons stretched up to that forearm as it adjusted itself with a flutter of its wings.
Dark beady eyes stared back at the grinning Wild Dog with gleaming intelligence, smarter than the average walker in the streets.
"Hello, little birdie," Jack greeted.
"Kaw." The pied crow with four colorful bands on its legs fluffed its feathers in response.
Crane blinked, taking a moment to proceed. That there really was a bird perched on Jack's forearm. Out of all the things he expected in this hellhole, a trained crow was not on his bingo card.
In fact, the bird now had its beady black eyes on him. Did it know he was a zombie? Didn't look like it would be spooked off.
Once again, Jack found a way to catch him off guard.
"So you're also a tamer?" Crane jested, because sure—why the hell not at this point.
"'Course not. Talo's the one who knows a thing or two about birds. It's particularly his lifestyle."
"Your 'country bumpkin' friend."
Every time Crane thought he had the Ravens figured out, they blindsided him with something new. Honestly, they were starting to feel more like a traveling circus—with Mad Jack as the main attraction.
And with the question, 'do you know what', in his mind, he was fine with that.
The several weird and wacky people he's met before, and including himself, a sentient zombie? A trained crow sounded normal in comparison.
Come to think of it, where had he heard the name Talo…?
"Don't let him fool you," Jack gave a cheeky warning—Freakazoid's flat hmph back, reminding her that he still wasn't keen to meet anyone else from her faction. "I haven't figured him out since the Community took me in."
"Duly noted," Crane acknowledged.
"But enough about him." She then lifted her forearm closer to him. "Say hello, Zeki."
"Good morning! Tok tok!"
Crane jerked back at the unexpected voice, wide silver-blue eyes fixed on the black-feathered culprit. Words out of a bird; that would be expected out of a parrot. But a corvid?
But he heard it, alright. The damn bird spoke.
"Wait. It can talk?" he uttered, amazed.
"Just a few words," Jack answered confidently. "Talo trained the yapper so well, he uses him to distract Virals away."
"That's…actually smart," coming from the talking zombie.
"The man can be rugged at times but he has a good head on his shoulders. How else would he hold the position as Asem's right hand?"
"He's that reliable, huh?"
"They've been working together, moving folks over to the Outskirts when the outbreak hit the Countryside. Which already tells you how bad that place must be if you gotta move to a dead sector."
Again, the Countryside.
He held every fiber to not grimace—of course, it had to come back to that place. Like a damn curse.
Just hearing strangers have some connection to that place left a bad vibe with him. There was no way in hell these people wouldn't know what happened there. The Faceless, their cult...
Maybe even the Mother.
Crane shrugged the bad memory away—enough of lingering in the past. And these people like Asem and Talo? They had nothing to do with what happened, other than it was their place of origin.
Right now, they were in the same boat as anyone else in Harran.
But from the sound of things, they were far from helpless. The Ravens damn well knew what they were doing to survive in a dead and forgotten sector from the start; evident from meeting Jack and the other Raven members.
Crane couldn't deny that about them. Hell, this Talo guy even had a trained crow sticking around when even pigeons had long since learned to stay away from the infected.
It was even more impressive that the bird wasn't afraid of a zombie right beside it. He'd figured the little guy would fly off.
The crow's friendliness invited him to try and pet it.
"Careful. He can take a finger off."
Clack!
The beak snapped just shy of his talon—Zeki might have actually taken it off had Crane's instinct not kicked in.
Jack should have warned him regardless!
"He's not a fan of strangers." And to gloat about it, Jack gave a little scratch under Zeki's chin, which it happily accepted.
"But he's fine with you," Crane grumbled.
Her smirk stretched longer. "Zeki is fond of pretty things."
"Well, He's got good taste then."
"Hm?" Jack hummed, a cue to repeat his soft mumble. She didn't catch it.
Goddamn it, Kyle—Crane coughed into his fist, an attempt to play it off. "I said he's smart. For a bird."
"More than you know it."
Now that introductions were out of the way, Jack sauntered to the parapet, dipping her arm down for the bird to change roosts. Just for a short moment.
Zeki gave a few loud caws but accepted the switch nonetheless.
She pulled out her sketchbook and tore off a thin piece of paper. Then wore a short message—Crane didn't get a chance to see but he could already guess what she wrote.
Zeki was patient. No fuss, no pecking as Jack slipped the message carefully within the rings on its right leg. And without aggression, it happily hopped back onto the forearm she offered again.
"Time to head 'home'," she ordered, with more emphasis on the word 'home'.
One soft swing of her arm up and Zeki shuffled with wings flaring once before he launched into the air with a sharp flap.
Off the little bird, back into the grey skyline.
The Runners watched in silence as Zeki soared higher, shrinking into the little dot. Eventually, they couldn't see the crow anymore.
Hopefully to wherever Talo was.
Crane's gaze dropped back to Jack. Sure enough, the cheerful lift in her expression was already slipping away.
It had gotten a little dimmer—meaning that she was still optimistic, just holding a guarded face. But her practical side was also one foot out the door, bracing for the worst...
"We'll find your cousin."
Once again, the 'charming' reformed zombie had something to say to Jack. She agreed thankfully, her nods starting fast, then slowing as she reeled herself back in.
"...Yeah," she spoke up, that chirpy tone however, fleeting.
As if a need to give her that confident boost. Because if she didn't, her doubt would continue to cloud her.
"We've done a lot of good coming this far," Jack added. "...Can't just stop here."
Crane agreed quietly. He'd seen the worst and done worse things. To amend all those wrongs, he tried to make a lot of rights as well.
Then he met Jack.
And just as she said, they've helped people in both Scanderoon and Harran; turned those worse things around for the better.
They stuck together and actually made change.
"In the meantime," Freakazoid started, looking back at the horizon.
The search wouldn't be easy—no telling how far Brecken's group had gone since Spike last saw them. How prepared were they to tread through the large stretch filled to the brim with the infected.
It could take days, even with two search parties on board. And that was if that message reached Jack's friends.
But they had to try.
Somewhere out there in the Border was Brecken and the other Runners.
"We got a lot of ground to cover."
Jack let out a deep sigh. Now was the real work. "Yeah…"
Feet on the ground, eyes on the horizon. All they could do was keep going.
And hope.
For a bird, the sky was the limit.
It could go anywhere. Far from the crumbling city below.
Harran was no longer a place for the living. Cats, dogs and even the rats fled. They felt it in their bones—something was horribly wrong, way before the two-legged beings turned on each other for some reason.
And their instincts were right; some eaten before they could reach for freedom.
For those with wings, escape was easy.
Zeki could have long left Harran and headed for the mountains, far, far away from those predators.
The end of the Border was right before him, passing over the New Town billboard. Just go off course, and there was no turning back to the ruined city.
But Zeki circled this time, instead of continuing onwards.
Beady black eyes searched the grounds below.
Amidst the trees and tall, dry grass, those predators moved sluggishly. None of them was his keeper, his surrogate parent since he was a baby who fell from his tree. They were all wrong to the clever bird.
Then a bright light caught his attention once again, hidden in the wooded crags below.
It flickered at him—two quick flashes, pause, then two again. A little game for a bird with the problem-solving capability of a seven-year-old.
"Kaw!" Zeki squawked excitedly, taking a nosedive in the direction of the pretty shiny thingie!
He tucked his wings close and cut through the air in spirals, each spin shrinking down until he landed on the outstretched hand, the one holding the small mirror keychain attached to a keyring of other shiny things; keys, a silver whistle and other little knick-knacks.
Indeed, it was a lure of irresistible spoils to a bird and an unforgettable memento of the past to a human, when times were better.
"There you are," his keeper greeted.
"Kaw, kaw!" Zeki voiced with demand. He was 'home' now. Safe. He did a good job. Now give him a treat for a job well done.
Click, click. On the same keyring was a clicker; his owner used it right away and kept Zeki focused.
And Zeki stayed still, obedient. His little feet tapped lightly, even when the small piece of dried meat finally came into view.
Zeki gobbled the morsel in one go while his human companion slipped the message from the little red and yellow bands. He brought the bird up onto his shoulder, allowing his hands to be free.
"Any news?"
Sitting nearby, on the edge of the cliff were two other humans—one on break, the other on watch. They waited in quiet anticipation as Talo carefully unfurled the piece of paper.
"Jack's alive," Talo said, seeing her handwriting on the paper. "Made it to Harran."
"Maaan," Baki whined. "Now I owe Tekin a whole case of beer."
"Didn't Ender warn you?" Hardwin pointed. "It's your fault for making that bet."
"Yeah, yeah."
Everyone back home had their doubts and concerns. Once a person leaves the Community without a Lifeline or a team, they're as good as dead. Especially Jack's case.
Yet that woman didn't know the word, quit. Even when the odds were stacked against her.
Even when her time was ticking.
"So what'd she say?" Hardwin asked.
"Her cousin might be heading to the Viaduct," Talo's relayed the message.
Hardwin reeled back with surprise, prompting another question. "Hang on. Is he planning to go to the Countryside?"
"Don't know."
Unbeknownst to them, something was watching the group by the cliffside. In a blurry world of black and white, all three humans and one bird were as bright as fireflies.
Their hearts were practically small suns. Beat, beat, beat.
Enticing to a Volatile.
But Volatiles don't come out during the day.
"We can ask Jack when we see her."
The preys' voices were incomprehensible to their visitor. Gibberish.
"Sheez. We haven't even met the guy and he's already sounding like her."
Baki finished checking through their supply bag. "It'd probably take a few days to get there. We only have a week of rations left, though."
"Then we'll have to make the most out of it. Or trade with a Safe Zone," Talo pointed. "We don't got speed like Jack and the other Runners have but we make up with grit."
"I still say 'slow and steady' is gonna get us killed," Baki exclaimed, half afraid but half out of honesty.
Their new visitor was hungry.
It crouched in the brush—gurgling. A wheeze accompanied each breath, thick and wet, swallowed back down.
It hadn't eaten anything in days. The valley was void of any substance, even infected corpses turned jerky were cleaned up by the remaining hunters. Eventually, they would migrate around: through the tunnels, the dark, damp holes, and back into the city.
Anywhere they could find food.
The robust freak picked up a fresh scent, leading all the way to the little camp by the cliffside.
Fresh meat.
Its limbs trembled, not from the hunger but from the pressure building in its swollen chest; that chemical churn rising like bile.
The monster took a step forward.
Snap!
Zeki's head snapped toward the faint sound of a broken twig—the humans missed it. His feathers ruffled up, sensing those predatory eyes from far away.
There was one of those things again. The ones that came at night.
"Kaw, kaw!" Alert! Alert Zeki's family!
Click click!
"Shh," Talo reassured his bird friend, giving a comfy scratch under the neck. Although they were finally out of the maintenance tunnels and at a safe spot, that didn't mean Zeki could screech away.
"Something spooked the little guy?"
Hardwin stood up from his perch, scanning the tree line before he listened for anything out of place. When nothing happened, he didn't sit back down.
There were two bad signs they didn't want: too noisy and too quiet.
"I've already put out the noisemakers. If a Biter comes our way, we'll hear them."
"You're making it sound like they can climb cliffs," Baki whined.
"Can never be too sure. Have you seen those new Toads? They're more jumpy than the usual ones."
The last prey climbed onto his feet—a movement that almost provoked the instinct to chase.
That youngest human of the group was the weakest. That one was on his way out the door. An easy pick, even if it meant that that piece of meat had been tainted.
It was now or never; one vs three.
The infected bolted out of the shadows. With one big leap-
Suddenly, talons clamped on its bump-covered head. Like a bear trap. Before it could register what was happening, the Toad found itself going down.
Sklurch!
Its skull split open, spraying dark mucus across the rockface. Its body twitched once. Then deflated. Then fell still.
A bigger predator joined the sightseeing.
"Craaaw!"
Click click! "Settle down, Zeki… It's alright."
Again, the bird had noticed but the humans didn't—too far away to hear or see the one-sided skirmish happen from so far away.
Competition for food was nothing new among the horde. First come, first served.
But something else besides hunger drove the second visitor to be prudent instead of impulsive. It had gotten used to the UV burning these past few days.
…It had a new purpose ever since it followed the group closely.
The new guest stayed put. Watching.
"So we stay the course," Baki said, double-confirming the group's plans. "Border's a big place to comb for one guy."
"Just work our way up to the coastline. We're bound to find either Jack or her cousin along the way," Talo reasoned.
Everyone began getting ready—Baki stretched his arms to ready himself for the next trek while Hardwin finished packing his bag. Meanwhile, Talo strolled closer to the edge of the cliff, the crow bobbing along on his shoulder with every step.
Those golden eyes followed. But the guess never left its perch.
It simply couldn't tear away from the smallest prey for some reason.
"Ze…ki…"
"You say something?"
Talo and Hardwin glanced over, confused. Then they looked at each other, expecting the other to repeat whatever Baki had heard.
"I didn't say anything," Talo pointed.
The young Ranger flinched. Wait, what, his face read. He swore he heard Talo talk to Zeki just now.
But…did he actually hear that?
It was like a scratch at the back of his skull. A voice he had thought he had heard through his ears.
Hence, his confusion and bafflement matched everyone else's.
"I thought… But…" Baki searched around warily. Then the next second, hoping he wasn't hearing things.
The third second, uneasy that they might not be alone.
"I heard a voice just now."
Hardwin immediately went into protective mode. He stepped away from the camp and took position between the others and the woods. The older Ranger brought out a multifunction shovel in both hands—the end still covered with dried black blood.
His eyes scanned tightly. He listened intensely.
None of his noisemakers went off.
With a furrowed brow, Talo also combed the treeline—see if he could catch anything in the shadows as well.
Nothing moved. But nobody relaxed.
The journey from the Outskirts to Harran had been…riddled with the feeling of wrongness.
It didn't come right at their face as they trekked through the ravine. Simply, they didn't know what to make of these 'breadcrumbs' scattered along their path. Sometimes, they chose to ignore it. Don't give it any mind.
Sometimes, the little nagging thought just wouldn't leave them, even when they couldn't find the answers.
And questions without answers never really stay buried.
Talo hadn't stopped feeling on edge.
Ever since Zeki brought back that Paradise cap he found, the first breadcrumb, Talo couldn't help but wonder…
No, no. He quickly tossed that idea out of his mind. Could be anyone's hat.
But he never let it go ever since.
Hardwin slowly glanced over his shoulder—what should they do, he quietly asked Talo.
"Let's get a move on before night falls."
Nobody objected. In fact, Baki quickly finished clean-up duty, killing off the embers in the campfire.
Talo returned back to the task he was halfway done before that 'disturbance'. On the same piece of paper, he turned it over and scribbled a quick message, "on our way."
Before he offered out his forearm, halfway a reach, Zeki hopped down as if already knowing the drill. The bird extended a leg out, ready.
Talo carefully tucked the note into the leg bands.
This would be their only means of communication for the coming weeks—to and fro by crow message.
"Alright, Zeki. Go find Jack."
With one caw like a goodbye, Zeki took to the air with a flutter and then a graceful arc. And as a worried parent, Talo watched his flight with a hand shielding his eyes. Further and further away, untouchable by any sort of danger below.
Once Zeki was the size of a dot against the pale sky, Talo, relieved, rejoined the others.
Hardwin took the lead. Baki took one more look at the treeline for the source of the 'voice', because of morbid curiosity but he gave up, eyes front.
Talo didn't look back; not the trees or the drop-off.
The group moved in single file down the winding path that threaded through bushes and stone. Within seconds, they would disappear into the undergrowth.
Their second guest didn't go after them. Its golden gaze did stick to the group but eventually, it turned its attention to the tiny prey so far away.
As if drawn to it, more so than three humans it could have easily attacked.
Stop. It didn't want the little guy to go.
Where are you going?
One foot shifted forward.
Then another.
As if remembering something it had sadly forgotten.
No matter how far it tried to stretch out a hand to the dot in the sky, that bird was long gone.
Its mouth opened slightly, a dry rasp pushing out.
"...Zeki… Talo…"
The Day Hunter scampered after the little dot on a pair of scuffed and cracked dress shoes.
A/N: 22/4/25
Hello again everyone! Next chapter is up!
I had a lot of fun, especially with Zeki and Talo, plus some in depth into Jack's character as a full. And I've got a lot of ideas stamping from both Brecken missing and the Day Hunter going after Zeki. :3c
In any case the next chapter is another Intermission chapter to show how things are in Harran's Border. As a FYI, I'll be moving in about three months later, meaning I may not be able to continue the later chapters for some time until either I can continue writing at where I will be staying or renovations are done. I'll try my best to get as much as I can before the moving starts. I hope for your patience and enjoy this chapter(s) for the time being.
Also special thanks to Archived_Ender (from Ao3) for letting me have his character, Atlas into Dying Light: Descent. And he's a verrrry interesting character, you'll be seeing now and then. XD
That said, hope you'll like this chapter!
22/4/25 - Initial upload