He’d rather eat dirt than admit it, but the pace Six set was tougher than Zephyr had expected, especially when it was obvious during their brief breaks that Six was still favouring his injured leg. They’d skated the rest of the morning away and the sun was high above them, its rays surprisingly strong. Six had already stripped his shirt off in the heat and stuffed it into his pack, though the tail end hung out in a patch of blue against the pack’s worn grey fabric. Behind him and struggling to keep up, Zephyr still took a moment to watch the way the muscles in his back moved under his sweat-sheened skin, and resisted the urge to ask where he’d gotten the narrow scar that twisted from the small of his back to just under his ribs.
His stomach growled audibly, loud enough that Six glanced back and raised an eyebrow at him. Shrugging, Zephyr said, “What? I’m a growing boy.”
“You don’t need to grow any more.” Six faced forward again, but his pace gradually slowed and he moved off to a patch of grass at the side of the road. “Eat quick.”
“You do realize we have a really long way to go, right? You’re going to burn yourself out by tomorrow evening.” Zephyr dropped down on the grass, glad to be off his feet for a little while, and dug through his pack until he found a sandwich wrapped in saran wrap. It was soggy and somewhat squashed but he still ate it happily, quieting his stomach.
“I’ll be fine. You just try to keep up.” Six stretched, raising his arms up over his head and arching his back. It took Zephyr a moment to tear his gaze away from the long, lean lines of his stomach and remember what they were talking about.
“I guess if you don’t mind losing, you can go as fast as you want,” he said. “I just thought you were in it to win it.”
“I am.” Six glanced down the road, shifting his weight impatiently. “And I’m going to win.”
“Not if you skate yourself into a heart attack. You can deny it all you want, but there’s something wrong with you, and it’s not your attitude.” Zephyr swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and pushed himself to his feet, shoving the crumpled saran wrap into his pocket. “You still all shaky?”
“Like I said, I’m fine.” Six crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth thinning to an angry line.
“Oh yeah? Go like this.” Zephyr held his arms out in front of him to demonstrate, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Six gave him a sullen look, then grinned suddenly, skating a few weaving steps backwards. “You want something from me, Zeph, earn it. Beat me in a sprint and you can have whatever you want.”
Zephyr felt his cheeks heat and ducked down to grab his pack to hide it. When he looked up again Six was already halfway down the road, his strides strong and even. Muttering a curse, Zephyr swung his pack onto his back again and followed him, skating as hard as he could just to catch up. Six didn’t slow even then, pushing the pace until they were both breathing hard. Zephyr ducked his head and fought to pass, but even his long stride was no match for Six’s speed until Six suddenly stumbled and went down with a painful-sounding thump.
It took Zephyr a few moments to stop without crashing himself, and by the time he skated back, Six was sitting up and growling a steady stream of expletives as he picked bits of road out of his arm. He ignored the hand Zephyr extended to him and pushed himself up, wobbling a little as he put weight on his injured leg.
“Now will you slow down?” Zephyr asked. “Before you end up wearing your entire first-aid kit?”
Six ignored him and got the kit out of his pack to disinfect his arm, but when he set off again, it was at a much slower pace. Zephyr watched him with concern for a few minutes, then shaded his eyes to look up at the sky. The sun was beginning to drift down, though he judged they had a solid five hours of sunlight left. He sighed at the thought of another five hours of skating and started humming under his breath just to break the silence, keeping watch over Six out of the corner of his eye.
Another hour passed before Six called a halt to look around, his movements stiff and slightly clumsy as he checked the buildings around them for any sign of life. Zephyr stuck close to him, half-afraid he would collapse suddenly, and tried not to think about the bird-monster Six had killed early that morning. If he never saw one of them again he thought he could probably die happy.
“Looks clear,” Six said finally, making his way over to an old bench and setting his weight carefully on it, stretching his injured leg out in front of him. “Keep an eye out.”
“Where are we?” Zephyr started to go through his pack to find the GPS he’d been given.
“Cornwall,” Six said absently, without looking up from his inspection of his leg. “What’s left of it anyway. We’re still on track.”
Zephyr paused and glanced up at him. “You know that without even looking at the map?”
“Yes.” Six dug through his pack and pulled out a handful of jerky wrapped in plastic, setting them on the bench beside him before taking out a mini box of cereal to eat.
“Going to expand on that?” Zephyr asked after a moment, dropping down on the other end of the bench. It gave an alarming creak that made Six glare at him, but held.
“No, I’m not.” Six dumped the rest of the cereal in his mouth and took a swallow of water from his water bottle.
“Jerk,” Zephyr muttered. His eye fell on the jerky and he picked one up, only to have Six grab it out of his hand. “Hey!”
“This stuff is older than you are,” Six snapped. “You eat it and you’ll be shitting what few brains you have out, if you’re lucky. Don’t touch stuff that isn’t yours.”
“What are you doing with it then?”
“Bait. Something’s been following us for the past half-hour.” Six pushed himself to his feet and unwrapped the jerky, breaking off a piece to leave on the bench. “Come on. Hopefully the cache is still here.”
Frowning, Zephyr got up and followed him down the street. “You’ve been here before,” he said after a few moments. “But you’re only 25. You’d have been two when we went underground. So when were you here?”
Six ignored him, scanning the streets around them carefully and finally turning off into a narrow alleyway that weaved between a few blocks of highrises with smashed windows and doors hanging open on creaking hinges. He trailed his fingers along the wall and paused a few times to trace symbols carved into the brick, barely visible until Zephyr saw Six’s fingers outline them. They seemed to tell him where to go and he moved confidently through the maze until he stopped outside what remained of the back door behind one of the highrises. He looked into the dark hallway for a moment, then pulled his knife and went in, his skates clicking on the tiled floor.
Zephyr fumbled his own knife out of his pocket and followed, so tense he jumped at every noise. The only light came from the door they had just come in, and a small shaft of greyish light from the front of the building, where Zephyr guessed the front foyer was. Every shadow seemed to leap out at them, and by the time Six stopped him with a hand on his arm, his heart was pounding so hard it was hard to breathe.
“Wait here,” Six murmured, barely above a whisper, and went in through the open front door of one of the apartments. He was gone so long that Zephyr started to feel twitchy, casting quick glances back over his shoulder and shifting nervously from one skate to the other. He was on the verge of going in after Six when Six finally came back out, carrying a heavy black bag over one shoulder. Six ignored his questions and just led the way out, squinting into the sunlight then taking the bag over to a pile of broken wood to open it.
Zephyr leaned over his shoulder to see the contents and his eyes widened when Six reached in to pull out a thick black semiautomatic and its magazine, loading it with practiced ease. He caught a quick glimpse of at least one other similar gun in the bag before Six zipped it closed again and slung it back over his shoulder.
“Do I get one?” he asked, following Six back out of the alley.
Six gave a derisive snort. “If you didn’t blow your own balls off, you’d probably end up shooting me. No way am I giving you a gun.”
“You could teach me how to use it.”
“No.” Six shaded his eyes to look back the way they had come, where the sun was beginning to cast longer rays the further it got down towards the horizon. “It’s there somewhere. Stick close to me and just... shut your face.” He tossed the other half of the unwrapped jerky out into the street and led the way past the buildings, looking around like he was checking out the area before ducking into what had once been a courtyard and was now a mess of broken walls and wild growth.
Following Six’s instructions, Zephyr ducked down behind one of the pieces of free-standing wall, bracing himself against it so he could still watch. Six threw another piece of jerky out into the street and went back to the clearest area of the courtyard, unloading and then loading the gun again, stretching out his shoulders and arms. Zephyr thought again of the scar across his back, and wondered if his hands were even steady enough to aim and shoot.
It came around the corner in an ungainly shambling hop, its long tongue flicking out like a snake’s. Its eyes were little more than slight indents in its thick head but it seemed to have no trouble spotting Six. Zephyr could see the outline of the buildings behind it through its transparent, jelly-like body, as well as its internal organs hanging like sacks of meat. In shape it looked a little like a toad the size of a man but its body bulged in odd places and as it moved it left a trail of slime behind it.
“Come on, fucker,” Six told it, his tone casual. He still held the gun hanging loosely at his side, though Zephyr saw his finger curl around the trigger. “Everybody wants a piece anyway.”
The creature hesitated a few moments longer then shuffled towards him, hanging its broad mouth open to reveal rows of tiny razor-sharp teeth. Six let it get uncomfortably close before he brought the gun up and fired, the movement so fast that Zephyr barely saw it—though he saw the creature’s triple-chambered heart explode within its body. Six fired again, obliterating an organ that Zephyr guessed was the creature’s stomach, then threw himself bodily behind the wall Zephyr was hiding behind. Zephyr turned to ask him what he was doing and Six yanked him down, seconds before the creature itself exploded with a sound like wet porridge dropped on the floor, flinging strips and gobbets of slimy flesh in all directions.
“Fucking gross,” Zephyr managed after a few moments of disgusted noises. “That’s just...” He shuddered, unable to put it into words. “Did you know that would happen?”
“Yes,” Six said, laughing a little. “Their stomachs are highly reactive. Don’t be such a girl, it’s just a little blood and guts.”
“Ugh,” Zephyr said, watching a chunk of transparent flesh wiggle its way down the wall until it fell off with a plop. “I’m going to puke. Can we go now?”
“Yeah.” Six used Zephyr’s shoulder to push himself up and picked his way through the mess. Zephyr followed, trying not to gag at the smell of ammonia rising from the remains of the corpse, and didn’t look back as they left the courtyard behind.
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