Out here, in the middle of nowhere, the chances of encountering anyone were slim—which was why Adalynn had been leading them away from most towns and cities. Of course, the lone revenant on the road was proof that low population wasn’t synonymous with no population, but it was still better than a ravenous pack of dozens.
She saw it as a trade of risks—a smaller chance of being set upon by revenants in exchange for more potential difficulty finding food. Most of what they’d eaten over the last half-year had been scavenged from abandoned stores and homes. There were fewer of those places out here to search, but if they found the right place while there was still time, she could teach Danny to grow his own food.
Danny was quiet and alert, and Adalynn was grateful for it. She loved her conversations with him, but he was still a kid despite the growing up he’d been forced to do. The longer he talked, the more excited he became, and he tended to speak louder and faster as he went on. Addy had trouble keeping up with him sometimes even in the best circumstances, and right now, when their hike was combined with the weather—overcast but oppressively hot and humid—she knew she wouldn’t have been able to breathe if she had to walk and talk simultaneously. She was already sweating after only a few minutes, and each step seemed to make her head pound a little harder.
Please let us find somewhere soon.
Though these headaches often started slow, they could be debilitating when they ramped up, especially when they led to nausea, dizziness, and seizures. Sometimes, she’d recover from those seizures within an hour or so. Lately, they’d been draining her more and more, and she often lapsed into unconsciousness for hours afterward. If it reached that point before she and Danny had shelter…
It wouldn’t be the first time Danny was forced to hide them under a blanket in the middle of the woods overnight, but she didn’t want him to have to go through that again. It was terrifying enough being out here together; she couldn’t imagine how much worse it was for Danny while she was seizing or unconscious. He was helpless during her episodes and had no way of knowing if she’d make it through an attack—no way of knowing if it’d be her last.
She hated that she put him through that so often.
Before long, the back of her shirt was soaked, sticking to her skin and pressed in place by her backpack, and sweat was trickling down her face. Before she’d fallen ill, a hike like this would’ve been enjoyable and refreshing, even in this weather.
Now it was a trek through hell.
Though she kept the road visible to her left, she didn’t see any mile markers as they walked; it was impossible to gauge how far they traveled as they marched on.
“Hey, look,” Danny said, turning to face her and jabbing his thumb toward something up ahead.
Adalynn lifted her gaze to follow his gesture. A narrow road, overgrown and unkept, cut through the forest a few hundred feet away. Though it wasn’t easy to tell from here, it looked like little more than a pair of deep ruts with grass and weeds growing in a strip between them.
“It might lead to a cabin or a campground or something,” Danny said.
Pausing, Adalynn placed a hand on the trunk of a nearby tree and caught her breath. She lifted the collar of her shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from her face. After a few moments, she swung her pack down onto the ground and pulled out her road atlas, flipping through its worn pages until she found the area they were in. She nibbled on her lip absently as she traced the lines with a fingertip.
“I think we’re somewhere around here, which means we’re”—she counted off the distance using her fingers and the map scale—“at least twenty-five miles from the nearest town.”
“So this might be our best bet,” Danny said, peering at the map from beside her. He left unspoken what they both knew—Adalynn wasn’t going to make it two more miles, much less twenty-five.
She closed the atlas and returned it to her pack. “We’ll follow it and see where it leads.”
When she bent to pick her bag up, Danny hurried to grab it first, and helped her get it on. She closed her eyes against a sudden wave of dizziness—and the fleeting sting of threatening tears that accompanied it.
Danny was thirteen years old; he was her baby brother. He wasn’t supposed to be taking care of her.
“Drink this,” he said, pressing something to her mouth.
Adalynn took the water bottle and drank slowly. Though it helped ease her, it couldn’t cure what ailed her. Once the dizziness had passed, she opened her eyes and held the bottle out to Danny. “You too.”
He drank faster and deeper than she had but didn’t drain the bottle. He knew to limit himself until they found a reliable source to refill their containers.
They continued forward until they reached the edge of the dirt road. Here, the road was level with the rest of the forest floor, but as it continued into the forest to Adalynn’s right, the ground to either side of it rose to leave the path in its own little valley for as far as she could see. To the left, it ran toward the main road, but overgrown weeds and brush cut it off from the shoulder.
Reluctantly, she sent Danny to the main road to check for any signs. Her heart thumped as she watched him creep toward the blacktop. He checked both ways and disappeared down the roadside embankment. Twenty seconds later—damn right she was counting—he reappeared and hurried back to her. The relief she felt in that moment seemed both overblown and wholly justified.
“No signs,” he reported.
“Probably a private road, then…but it looks like it hasn’t been used in a long time.” Adalynn looked to the right again, drew in a slow, steadying breath, and nodded. “Well, let’s see if it leads to anything.”
Once again, they kept off the road they were following. Adalynn found something inherently unsettling about the thought of walking with the ground rising overhead on either side, about being surrounded by bare dirt and exposed roots.
Maybe on some primal level that seemed too much like walking in a grave.
After a little while, the road led up a small incline. When they reached the crest, Adalynn paused; there was something blocking the road up ahead—some kind of gate. She and Danny exchanged a glance and continued forward with a bit of extra caution.
The gate grew clearer as they neared it—it was tall, made of rusted wrought iron, its high spikes and arched structure reminiscent of a bygone, gothic era. It was connected to a stone wall that ran to either side and vanished amidst the trees. The wall looked as old as the gate—parts of it were cracked and crumbling, leaving her to wonder how any of it was standing.
A length of chain was wrapped through the bars at the center of the gate, secured by a rusting padlock. Danny took hold of the padlock and tugged on it. “It’s locked, but”—he crouched slightly and forced the creaking gates apart, opening a space barely more than a foot wide—“I think we can fit through.”
Adalynn frowned. Though the gate and wall looked like they’d stood here, neglected, for decades, the lock and chain were in somewhat better condition, covered more in dirt than rust. This gate might’ve been sealed for a century for all she knew, but the chain and padlock were newer. She just couldn’t be sure if they’d been here for years or for months.
It was likely that this place had been abandoned long before the Sundering, but they couldn’t afford to assume that. They’d seen and heard signs of other people—living people—even out in these rural areas, and there was always a chance that Adalynn and Danny weren’t the first to stumble across this place. And if the wall was in this condition, could they expect there to be any safe buildings beyond it?