Bound to Ashes (The Altered Sequence Book 1) (10 page)

She rolls her eyes at him and says, “I take it all the sleeping things are arranged?”

“Yep, and we went and cleared out the cafeteria and saved some stew,” Vinder says. “Safe stew. Not... well, you know. Duh.”

Alessandra casts Vinder a heavy glance and turns to us. “We’re heading out first thing tomorrow. But right now we’re going to have a nice big meal, because it might be our last for a while.”

I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything that could be considered ‘big’. Judging by Ashton, Jules, and Cain’s looks, they haven’t, either.

Alessandra grins at us. “Let’s eat.”

The cafeteria vaporizes my appetite.

Row after row of metal table, spotlessly clean, checkered floor and white lights flickering above us. I want nothing more than to go back outside and sit in the dark, cool evening. Anything is better than this. Moths fly up at the lights and bounce off them, over and over.

Vinder blows past us and peels around the corner to the open kitchen. Something clangs and clatters, echoing in the vacant room. “Woops,” he laughs.

“I better go make sure he doesn’t kill himself,” Peregrine says. Her voice has a hoarse, raspy quality to it. She jogs after Vinder and muffled, says, “How hard is it to just grab some bowls?”

“The sauce pan started it.”

Jules laughs under her breath and easily lets her gaze wander the room. I wish she could use her ability to give me some of her confidence. How can she act so normal?

“You guys got it?” Alessandra calls. She leads us to a table near the open kitchen windows. James sidles along the edge of the table and sits as far opposite us as possible. He leans his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his folded hands, eyes cast aside.

“Sit anywhere, guys,” Alessandra says. But she watches us carefully.

Cain sits opposite James, other side, other end. His shrewd eyes track James and Alessandra’s every movement. Jules sits next to him, swinging her legs over the long bench like she’s been doing it her whole life. My legs refuse to move. Do I sit by Jules and Cain, three on one side, or... opposite side, to balance it out, or does that even matter...? Alessandra sits across from James at the other end of the table.

I walk around and sit on the same side as James. He still hasn’t looked away from his imaginary target.

Ashton gently pads around the end of the table, eyeing the benches. His feet shuffle. I catch a barely audible, “Um,” and him picking up his hands like he’s going to ask a question, but stifling it over and over. He finally sits on the end of the bench, his long legs sticking out diagonally, the only place they’d fit. He slouches awkwardly in his seat. He catches my eye and stretches his mouth into a quick grimace, as if saying, ‘It’s the best I can do.’ I’d say sorry if my vocal cords weren’t tied in knots.

Without a word, Vinder and Peregrine sweep by and each set a tray down. Thin brown liquid sloshes in an assortment of metal and ceramic bowls. Spoons clatter off the tray as they set them down. “Mystery stew, on the house,” Vinder says, sitting down on my side of the table.

James and Alessandra take a bowl and spoon and start eating. Jules looks at them and I watch the grin on her face grow. “Hell yeah,” she says, snatching a bowl. She starts with the spoon, pawing for the hunks of meat in the liquid.
Meat
. How long has it been since we’ve had actual meat?

My guts squirm uneasily. They’re feeding us. Ashton and I exchange sideways glances and I know we’re thinking the same thing. We’re in their base, surrounded by their supporters, with nothing but their word to go on. And now a homemade meal sits in front of us.

Ashton leans forward a little. I’m closer so I grab him one and slide it over, then grab my own. It’s really thin, the brown broth is kind of transparent.... I have no name for some of the vegetables in it. But the big hunks are definitely meat.

Alessandra and James spoon the meal into their mouths quickly, but not to the intensity that Jules does... she tilts the bowl back and finishes before any of us can even grab our spoons. Or before I can warn her against potential poison. My warning stops as a lump in my throat.

“Wow,” she says. The humans look at her. “You guys eat like this every day?”

“Well we made this stew especially meaty and rich so it’d be irresistible to the officers,” Peregrine says with a dark pride. “Kind of a special occasion.”

“Leftovers are still good though,” Vinder says half between bites.

Ashton hovers around his bowl cautiously, turning the food over with his spoon and occasionally glancing at the humans. They just go on eating. Are they ignoring us on purpose? Alessandra probably told them ahead of time to not stare like the ones outside did.

A slurping sound beside me and Ashton sets his empty bowl down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. It wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t chew at all.

Cain hasn’t moved from his spot at the end of the table.

Finally my hunger claws so hard at my insides I have to take a bite, anxiety or no—wow. Everything I’ve ever eaten... the meat has texture. It’s real. The vegetables don’t melt into mush, they have their own flavor, and a little crunch....

Vinder sets his empty bowl and spoon on the tray and says through a permanent smile, “Do you guys... want seconds?”

Seconds? They have that much?

“Yeah!” Jules answers for us, nearly slamming her bowl on the tray. The humans jump, but all of them laugh except James. He looks alarmed and insulted.

I feel like I could go run laps around the compound. The food energizes me.
Real
food. One glance at Ashton tells me he’s feeling the same. He half-smiles at me and weaves his fingers together to stretch his arms out over the table, nearly reaching the other side.

Alessandra leans her elbows on the table and says, “Well now that we’re fed.... Guys,” she looks at the other humans, “This is Dev, Ashton, Jules, and Cain.” With every name is another gesture and another pair of eyes on us. It’s easier to stay in my seat than it is to follow the impulse to run. It’s almost embarrassing how the promise of food can keep us rooted like this....

Ashton tucks his legs under him a little more and sits up straighter, letting his shoulders fall, relaxing. It helps.

How surreal to be served a meal by a human. The second course arrives, the same steaming brown stuff as before. We all reach out and grab one immediately this time. Jules motions it to Cain and says, “You sure?”

His blank stare is her answer and she shrugs, dipping into the bowl.

“Okay,” Alessandra says. “And now that Vinder’s back, well, that’s Vinder,” he waves, “this is Peregrine, and that’s James.”

Peregrine offers a half wave with her spoon. “Nice to meet ya.”

‘Nice to meet you’... the first thing Jules said to us when we found her. I wonder if that’s just something to say to get the other person to like you, or if it’s actually honest.

If it
is
just a pleasantry, then James doesn’t buy in, because he only glances at us, then at Alessandra, then back to his bowl.

If the food was poisoned, we’d know by now. That was a risk we took. I hope the others realize that as well. Was is really just happenstance that their meal time was when we got here? And what about the other people outside?

Looking at Alessandra doesn’t give me any clues, she just goes on eating as usual. But is this
usual
, or is she acting? The two possibilities rattle in my head like frantic marbles in a jar. Her authenticity, or her lack thereof. I can’t choose which one to grab a hold of.

I’m glad we turned down her offer for rooms. Closed spaces make my heart race. We used to live like that, a long time ago, but it was a silent agreement between us that open spaces were better. Or at least safer. So we slept in the cafeteria, under the promise that no one would bother us until the sun rose when it was time to go.

The bed things don’t smell right and the light outside the building never turns off. As if I needed any help not sleeping.

Ashton rolls over on his too-short sleeping bag and says to the ceiling, “I hope you’re right about this, Dev.”

“So do I.”

Jules, not even facing us, chimes in, “They fed us, though. You don’t feed things you want to kill. It’s a waste! Unless,” she laughs, “you’re fattening them up for slaughter.”

“Jules, that’s the
least
comforting thing you could have said,” Ashton says, but even he can’t help but laugh a little. His eyes are still so tired, staring up at the dark ceiling. “We should get some sleep.”

“I’m just saying, why go through the trouble making friends in the first place?”

Ashton gestures with his hands even though Jules isn’t watching. “Well,” he says, “it’s like in a book I read once. The main characters meet someone who they think will help them, but eventually he went mad with power and tried to enslave the planet. That was his plan all along, to gain their trust.”

“Talk about not comforting,” I mutter. I don’t think they hear me.

“That’s books, Dogfeet, not real life. That plan is stupid. Why wait it out? Just... get it over with,” she ends on a sour note, shifting angrily in her sleeping bag. Jules lets us know when she’s done with a conversation.

Ashton lets his breath out slow and seems to sinks into the floor.

There has to be something that can comfort him that isn’t a bold-faced lie.
We’ll be fine
.
Nothing will happen
. Finally, I settle on, “We’ll keep on our toes like always. They won’t surprise us.”

Ashton glances over at me and says, “I’m not worried about
them
surprising
us
.”

Something about that halts everything else in my head. They’re not the ones to be worried about? Oh. Because we’re the wild variable. We’re unknown to them. And that makes us dangerous. Dangerous things don’t last long in this world of preemptive damage control. Kill or be killed....

Ashton grumbles and presses his hand over his eyes. “Sorry, that was stupid, just... you’re right. We stay alert. Watch out for each other. Like always.”

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Like always.”

The sun’s barely risen and it’s already hot. Staring out the gate of the compound, the angled shadows are harsh on the bright ground. I’m awake, technically, but the stubborn residue of that sleepless night still fogs my mind. Stay alert, Dev, come on.

The humans are finally done packing. Their bags lay in a dusty heap as they stand around and double check everything. Our things are still packed from when we left the silo.

“That’s it,” Peregrine says, drawing a long slash through the list.

“Alright,” Alessandra says, turning back to face the compound. No one’s out except for us, it seems so deserted. She lingers on it for a while. “Let’s divvy up the guns.”

Vinder stoops down and unzips one of the huge duffel bags. The firearms inside clatter against each other like giant beetles. With an ill-practiced hand he picks them up by straps and handles and hands them around. Each of the humans take one. James and Peregrine handle theirs as if they were no more than simple tools like a hammer or screwdriver. Alessandra delicately tucks it into an outside pouch of her pack. When Vinder approaches Cain to hand him a little handgun, Cain backs up and looks ready to spit. Ashton gently lifts his hand and says, “He’s good.” Vinder hands him the little thing instead, which Ashton’s hand nearly completely envelops.

Vinder turns to Jules and me holding a semiautomatic handgun. “There’s... only one left,” he says, a scared edge growing on his voice, glancing between us hesitantly. He glances at the other humans, who seem unwilling to volunteer their weapons.

“I don’t need one,” Jules says way too confidently. Vinder just blinks at her.

“We’re fine.” Alessandra never bothered to take back that handgun from before. They treat firearms and ammunition as if they’re a reliable resource, as if they could just go down to the store and replenish. Vinder tucks the spare handgun into his waist holster and starts folding up the bag.

Alessandra is silent and staring down the roads. Past the security booth and broken red-striped bar: nothing but dead trees, cracked asphalt, and a shimmering horizon. She turns around. Her gaze lingers on every individual in the party—us included—and she says, “Thank you for coming along.”

“Anytime,” Vinder says easily. Peregrine and James just nod as if this dangerous trek was the least they could do.

But Alessandra’s words stick in my head like they were meant especially for me. The harder I try to grasp at why, the less I understand.

Somehow I get the feeling it won’t get easier with time.

8
• rain, rain

[Dev]

If the humans never speak a word to us, that’s fine with me. They walk in front of us and we trail behind. Alessandra occasionally looks back at us but is obligated to walk with her friends and says nothing to break the tension.

To Ashton, this pace is slow motion. His strides are so long and even, he can write in his journal without his steps interrupting his hands. He’s always got his nose in the tattered black book. The sight of him and his journal coaxes the anxious edge away. Some things never change.

The road doesn’t give us much to follow. Brown grass grows in clumps where the asphalt was worn away or blown up. A couple dirty signs stand in the overgrown field. The road curves in a wide semicircle. Alessandra cuts us right through the center, up the hill to the highway. Despite the height of the ramp and the intact retaining walls, prickly grass and shrubs still cling to any open soil between jagged cracks. The highway is much smoother than the road below us, though. The trees on the side cast a little shade.

Our world, the silo and the city, was so small. It never gave us a reason to go deeper into unknown territory. I never gave it any thought. Now that we’re doing it... it feels like every step following the humans leads us farther and farther away from safety.

What are we going to see out there? Maybe a whole city burned to the ground. Like when our city caught fire. Grey buildings backlit with angry orange... All we could do was stand on a factory rooftop and watch it burn. Electric generators short out, lightning strikes. And no humans left to control the flames. I still dream about it.

Out there, maybe the virus hit harder. I was so worried about the humans we were stuck with, I hadn’t even considered the possibility of meeting other survivors along the way. And by meeting, I probably mean ‘being attacked by’. If Heydrich wanted to kill us for no reason, chances are other humans would, too.

We haven’t even been walking for more than a few hours when Ashton stops in his tracks. “What?”

“Do you hear that?”

“Ash, you know that’s kind of a stupid—”

“Shh!”

I shove my hands in my pockets and wait. Everyone else stops, too.

James rolls his shoulders and says, “What?”

Ashton turns and points behind us. “There! Back in a moment.” And before I can blink he takes off, full speed back the way we came.

“Where the hell is he go—”

“Of
course
,” Cain says, using his hand to block the sun.

Ashton jogs back to us, grinning, and occasionally glancing down at a mangy brown animal that looks an awful lot like a brown, overgrown possum.

“No way.”

“He tracked us all the way here,” Ashton says. Punk, that stupid dog, pants and wags its skinny tail frantically.

“This thing is still alive?” Jules says, walking over and kneeling to give Punk a few appreciative scratches on the head and neck. He leans into them and squints his eyes shut.

“Wait,” Alessandra says, coming forward. “You guys have a
dog
?”

“And you haven’t eaten it before now?” Peregrine says, laughing.

“He’s not really ours. He just... stays,” Jules says. Yeah, he lingers like a bad taste in your mouth. “I think he found the secret to immortality, actually,” she adds. “I mean, look at him. Like death warmed over.”

“
We
don’t have a dog,” Peregrine says, a little offended.

James looks ready to puke, hit something, or scream. Instead he says, “Look, can we just get going already? And I hope you don’t expect us to feed that thing.”

“Were you listening?” Jules says. “Immortality.”

James narrows his eyes, turns around, and starts off again.

Alessandra smiles and says, “Well, maybe he’ll keep other animals away. I don’t see the harm. But James is right, we should keep moving.”

At least the dog is a good distraction, I’ll give him that. Just wish he wasn’t so full of worms and ticks so we could eat him.

When dusk finally comes, the city surrounds us. Not as much as the one back home, this one’s buildings are shorter and more sprawling. At the end of a wide road, between mossy walls of brick buildings and red striped road block fences, a spacious grassy area opens up. Alessandra pauses, hikes her bag up, and nods in the direction of a covered area on the top of a small hill. It’s a good spot for camp, sheltered and higher than most of the area, the tall grass around it can hide us. It might be useful to mention that, but it still goes against my grain to help the humans. Even if we are on the same side... or something.

The humans all file into the concrete area under the cover, but we stay scattered outside in the tall grass. They don’t seem to care.

“Alright,” Peregrine says, stretching her arms above her head, “seeya later, picnic tables.” She starts dragging the large broken pieces of the picnic bench away from the table. James throws down his pack and wrestles a hatchet free.

The grass next to me rustles—Ashton slowly walks forward, but stops at the edge. He watches the wood being gathered. He finally approaches one of the benches in a wide arc, giving Peregrine a wide berth. She glances up, then backs away, gesturing widely at the wood as if to say, ‘Be my guest.’ Ashton swallows. The wood is easily a few inches thick and about a foot and a half wide. He steps in the middle of a long piece, grabs the other end, and pulls. It snaps in two. I join him—the way he glances at the humans every so often, he’s nervous—and I help him break it up. It only takes a minute to break the dry, brittle wood into manageable pieces.

James never had a chance to use the hatchet. The humans just stood there and watched us. Ashton glances between them as if waiting for approval. Or correction.

“Daaaamn,” Vinder finally says.

Peregrine just smiles. “Works for me.”

James shoves the hatchet back into his pack aggressively.

What’s their deal? It’s just some old wood.

The firewood pile gets finished just as the sun sets. I can make out Punk darting around the grassy fields, occasionally pausing to perk his ears up and stare meaningfully into the surrounding woods. Listening for mice in the underbrush, little birds in the trees. His life is so much simpler.

Ashton swings over the table and steps over the bench, then starts dragging it aside. For
our
fire. Alessandra sticks her hand out to stop him.

“We have more than enough, don’t worry about it,” she says. She gently smiles.

Ashton slowly stops his task and rises to his upright posture, like in slow-motion. He glances at me, then back at Alessandra, then steps away from the bench. Alessandra smiles like he’s being perfectly reasonable and just made a little mistake—not that he actually thought there would be two fires. One for us, one for them. There was no ‘we’ until she decided.

“Who had the matches?” James pats his shirt and coat pockets and looks to the others.

“I didn’t bring any,” Vinder says with a shrug.

“Me, neither,” Peregrine admits.

James’s shoulders fall. He looks at his companions like they’re insane. It’s a look I recognize well—we give it to Jules all the time. He says, “We’re on the road for how long, and we forgot
matches
?”

Alessandra smiles at me. “I didn’t think we needed to.”

First she denies our second camp and now this. The bones in my hands feel restless, they can’t decide whether to stay still or close around Alessandra’s throat. Didn’t need any matches, because we can just use Dev. Just
use
him.

Everyone’s eyes are on me all of a sudden—the humans expectantly, my friends with something too close to fear. My exhale is shallow. I kneel by the pile of wood. Looks like it’ll be an unpredictable, angry fire. Flames growing out of too-large gaps and burning the pieces in two, the whole structure will collapse. I blow a stream of fire underneath the pile and the flames take to it after a moment. The flames struggle to get a strong purchase on it at first. Maybe I was wrong—maybe it won’t start at all. Fires are like people. Hard to predict.

Where did these humans learn how to build a fire...? They’re spoiled by that dome. I rearrange the burning logs so more air can get to the embers. The fire licks greedily around my hands and the wood. I hold my breath, but not on purpose. Once it’s fixed, I sit down away from the fire and exhale. Inhale, exhale.

I did that without putting up a fight at all. Alessandra walks in and pushes us over and says, ‘Sit.’ And like good dogs, we obey. My insides sour.

James and the others don’t say anything, only stare at the fire that now blazes before them.

“Well thanks,” Peregrine says cordially, warming her hands. Vinder is looking too smug, like, ‘I knew this was coming.’ She and Vinder unpack and set up the camp stove. James just stares, but not at the fire, at me.

I shoot him a look. I am in no mood to try and be nice. “What?”

He replies stiffly, “Nothing.”

Alessandra watches us, ready to intervene.

We eat a meal of baked beans and chili all cooked in one pot. The fire casts inconsistent and flickering light on everyone’s faces, except mine.

Peregrine clears her throat and says overly-politely, “So I noticed you all have very interesting names.”

Traveling with the humans was painless compared to camp... now they feel like talking.

“Thank you,” Jules says, pretending to be flattered.

Peregrine smiles and continues, “How did you get them?” I stare into my food. There aren’t many things that make me lose my appetite....

“We chose them,” Ashton says, shuffling his legs around so as to not intrude on anyone else’s space. It isn’t proving fruitful. He continues, “I’m named after one of our caretakers.” Ashton, so usually full of useful words, grows silent and flushed.

“Kilojoules,” Jules says on her turn with a casual shrug.

Peregrine looks at Cain, who snorts and decides now is a good time to sleep. He stands up and heads to the other end of the shelter.

“Sorry about him,” Jules says with good humor. “Cain is too good for everything, ever. And we’re not sure why he chose his name.”

Way too eagerly, Alessandra says, “What about Dev? Short for anything?”

Ugh, great. I swallow and say, “It was short for Devil a long time ago.”

I knew this would happen. Awkward silence. “Why?”

I raise an eyebrow at her and she gets the point. “Well, Dev is a lot better,” she says.

“What about Peregrine? That’s a... hmm...
unique
name, right?” Jules says.

Ashton ventures, “Like the bird?”

Peregrine chuckles quietly and says, “Well, not really. My mom was really into alternative names. She had her own changed to Chrysanthemum, Chrys for short. No fun story or anything, she was just weird. I think mine might have been a distant family name, though, come to think of it.”

“Huh,” Jules says thoughtfully, though I doubt that means anything to her. A family name? Our
family names are serial codes. Serial category E4, number 17.

Jules sits among the humans like she’s one of them. She fears nothing. And are the humans not nervous either, or do they just hide it well?

The conversation dies out and one by one the humans unroll their sleeping things and doze off. Sleep visits every one of them but passes me up.
 

I wake from one of those sleeps where your mind is still swimming with thought, but all the thoughts are about sleeping and trying to sleep and why the hell am I not asleep yet? I blink my eyes open and take a couple breaths. Everyone else is still out cold. My friends and I are on one side and mostly propped up against benches or support beams. The humans are all lying in shapeless sleeping-bags on the ground. Except Alessandra, sitting cross-legged on the far table, looking out at the red sunrise.

She must have heard me rouse, because she turns around and smiles. She hops down, slowly walks over to the table nearest us and sits on that instead.

“You don’t sleep much, do you?”

I fight back a yawn. “You were awake before me.”