Within These Walls

Life After Dark: 2 (WTW Sequel)

(Thanks for sticking around this far! And thank you for the votes and the wonderful feedback. I've updated the changes for WTW and they should reflect whatever is happening in LAD. I'd highly encourage going back to chapter 28 and reading from there to get an idea of these changes. Some of them are pretty drastic (e.g. what Willow and Sam did to Alec, and what Alec does at the end).

I'll be updating the sequel every Sunday. Until next week!)

My breath creates a white cloud with each ragged exhale. The industrial neighborhood is as quiet as a graveyard as we walk through its dark streets. Somewhere in the back of my hectic mind, I consider this. This place looks creepy and inhospitable, and I wonder what we're doing inside it. How bad of a turn did our lives take that we have to tiptoe through a decrepit neighborhood in the middle of the night?

At some point, I hear a yowling cry, followed by a crash, and jump nearly a foot in the air. "W-what was that?"

"Druggies and indigents," Willow whispers. "We've run into a few of them here since we got here. Don't worry about them. They're the least of our problems."

How reassuring. "How long ago did we come here?" And why the hell are we here?

Willow tilts her head in consideration. "Four—no, five days. We had to leave our last hideout."

"Because of the . . . Shroud?"

"Yes."

"Did that man at the diner have to die?" I ask, gripped by sadness over his untimely demise. The poor guy probably had a loving family expecting him to return home after his shift. A widow who will never know why her beloved had to die. Kids who will grow to old age and always look back on a life empty of their father.

"The Blank condition is irreversible," Willow says. "We've learned that the hard way many times over the last eight months. If we left him alone, he would have gone on a killing spree. Countless people would've died before someone put him down."

"Was it reversible in my case?" I'm afraid to know.

She trades a glance with Janie. "To some degree."

Not a promising response. There's an uncharacteristic coolness to her voice, like she's being civil with me but there's no feeling behind it. Eight months later, it seems we still haven't put aside our differences about Sam.

I shake my head. The movement pulls at my sore neck and reminds me of the bruises I have. "I was locked inside a room. Do you know anything about that?"

"Sorry, love," Janie chimes in behind me. "We had to."

I don't think I'll ever get used to Janie's friendliness. "Why?'

"You weren't yourself," Adam says with a concerned look aimed my way.

At least one person is in my camp—and doesn't make my body prickle with suspicion.

I wiggle my foot to dislodge a pebble in my boot. My shoes look like they've seen better days. Well, they've probably seen more than I could ever hope to remember right now. It's a weird thing to fixate on at a moment like this, but I can't help it. I must have picked these boots out myself. Placed my feet in them, traveled for miles in them, but they're completely foreign to me. They hold no meaning, and it leaves me surprisingly empty and disconnected.

I mull over Adam's words for only a moment before I figure it out. My most recent memories involve Blanks. Specifically, me. Despite his best—and painful—efforts, Sam failed to save me from this strange condition. All he could do was slow it down.