Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 84

I dashed across the rooftops. It's easier when the downtown buildings stood so close together, and Jun didn't have to use the wooden planks. I was amazed at how fast he was, and I had to slow down, carefully watching out for my steps or else I'd fall. He had done this route many times, but he did tell me that he had never been to Dalewood. The Alphas patrolled that neighborhood from the beginning, so Jun had never ventured further.

"...close now," he said ahead, realized he was still speaking, though it was the only word I could pick up.

I nodded, still praying that my friends were holding out okay.

The gaps between buildings soon grew wider. Jun had to go down an escape ladder again to an alley when he didn't have a plank tucked away this far in the route. I didn't know if replacing heights with the narrow alleys was a good substitute because spotting the vectors became harder. I passed two rotting bodies behind a dumpster, slit holes on their skulls, and I'm guessing Jun had killed these people before with his bow. As we narrowed a corner, a vector wearing an apron stumbled into view, but he didn't see us coming.

Jun pulled out an arrow from his quiver, but instead of using his bow, he bolted forward, winds sweeping up his jacket, spinning around out of sight until the vector caught his movement. The vector had only a split second to turn before Jun plunged the arrow right under the vector's chin. Jun cupped the back of the vector's head, pushing the arrow further until the vector's gurgled screeches faltered into a dead stop. Jun pulled the arrow, wiping the pointed tip on his jeans, and then placed it back inside the quiver.

Jun turned to look at me, saw my mouth hanging open, and answered with a slight shrug. Show off, I thought.

"This way," he said, pointing toward the street.

I followed after him, walking over the vector's corpse.

Downtown faded behind us. Gone were the picturesque red bricks, live oaks, and cast-iron balconies of small-town Americana, paving the way to small modern-looking apartment buildings and the residential houses converted into offices. We passed by a motel. Another one was a full strip of offices for dentists, lawyers, and real estate agents. Jun thought it was easier to traverse across a parking lot, so we took off there, careful not to get spotted by either the vectors or humans.

The streets grew wider, the spaces more open, but there wasn't a concrete line or a wall where Dalewood began. It wasn't until I noticed that I was surrounded by suburban houses—all those white picket fences, green grass on the front yard, and trees covered every block—that I realized we were now inside the neighborhood. I could no longer smell burnt rubber and days-old smoke, rotting meat, and the overpowering stench of the damaged sewers.

Here, fresh air reigned, sweetly scented in the air, birds chirping soundly, and the neighborhood remained undisturbed. Aside from the houses obviously having barricades over their windows, it's like the world left this neighborhood in the past. I half-expected children to run out of the homes to play on the front yard laughing, neighbors lazily strolling by the sidewalk, and the occasional mailman driving by to deliver the mail. Further off, I saw a large park with its own pond. It was clearly a more affluent neighborhood compared to the rest of Colby.

Then, I saw a few marks on the houses' doors. I've seen them in Albany before, the ones outside the safe zones, shaped like an X. It was the usual code for search and rescue, one that Peter had described to me, and the CRA clearly had gone through this neighborhood before they left. Each quadrant of the X told the date, time, the unit's search identification, and hazards encountered within the building. One particular house was only searched fifty-two days ago, 1430 meant two-thirty in the afternoon, NE-2 for the unit, and then zero hazards labeled at the bottom quadrant—no dead inside. The markings disrupted the quiet solitude of Dalewood, and I didn't know why, but I was unsettled by it like I wanted to rip those doors off and burn them. It didn't feel right.