Webb's a dead guy with no memory of his life, and that's how he likes it. He'd sworn he'd protect After, the city of the dead, from monsters, but the monsters have all been killed off. Now he has only one thing left to do: go through the Gate and fi...
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Nugget wagged tailessly, proud of where she'd led us. Beside her atop a dune, Jake and I gaped down at the bustling oasis of small shops and stalls below. It was a bazaar in the middle of the desert and colorful tarps and banners waved in the wind, as if beckoning us to join the ranks of ghosts perusing all sorts of trinkets for sale.
"Cool!" Jake exclaimed, bouncing on his heels at the sight.
I, too, heaved a sigh of relief at the first sign of civilization. This wasn't Void or his crew, but surely someone down there knew where he'd gone.
"Good girl!" I told Nugget, scratching her between the ears, making her whine happily. "Come on, gang," I said to my companions. "Let's see if we can ask for directions."
Jake and I slid down the dune and melded into the crowd. We shambled our way through ghosts, shoulder to shoulder. It was easy to get distracted by all the shiny baubles and the tantalizing scents of spices and fragrances wafting in the breeze. I had to shake my head to keep from getting side-tracked and tapped the nearest ghost.
"Hey!" I greeted the woman. "Can you help us? We're trying to find—"
The woman answered curtly in a language I didn't understand before brushing me off. I grabbed the shoulder of the next closest ghost. "Hey there. Have you seen a skeleton—oh, okay. You're walking away from me, too. That's cool."
Next to me, Jake was having the same luck. After getting snubbed by yet another ghost, he shrugged up at me. I sighed, surveying the mob. There had to be someone here who could help us.
Piled next to the wall of a nearby stall was a stack of crates. I climbed atop the stack, only briefly glancing at the illustrated posters tacked to the wall. Below the name Criley written at the very top of each page, the red lenses of the hand-drawn gas mask Criley wore watched me climb. Underneath the drawing was the text, Wanted DEAD by Order of the Judge.
The word 'dead' was underlined many times.
I stood atop the stack with the entire bazaar teeming beneath me. Time to do what I did best. I cupped my hands to either side of my face and yelled, "Yo! Anyone here speak English?"
"Or Spanish!" Jake added from below.
"Or Spanish!"
From somewhere along the lines of stands, someone yelled back, "Shut the fuck up!"
I grinned. "Alright! English!" Already, things were looking up. I slithered down from the crates and moseyed my way to the stand where the voice came from.
An older man raised a brow at me when I slammed my elbows on the countertop and greeted him, "Hello! Me and my buddy, Jake, here—"
"Hola," said Jake.
"—are lost. By any chance, have you seen you a goddamn skeleton pass through here? You can't miss him. And he's got an army of zombies with him."
