Chapter 43: IT’S RAINING… COFFINS?!
The wind howled around the top of the crumbling tower. Shattered billboards rattled overhead, broken glass littered the old helipad where Johnquis sat.
Beside him, Dancer perched on a twisted beam, silent, her eyes catching the last glimpse of blue sky before a dark cloud swallowed it whole.
Johnquis tore open a blood pack with his teeth. The plastic peeled with a sticky snap. He lifted it to his mouth and sucked it down like a starving leech. Warm, copper taste coating his tongue, iron filling the cracks in his throat.
"God, that’s good..."
He mumbled between gulps. "Didn’t think I’d be this hungry. Should’ve known... all that mess down there... GOD! We’re damn lucky there was an untouched loot bag in this place."
The pack crumpled in his fist. He grabbed another — this one darker, thicker. He bit it open too, the rich organ slurry dripping down his chin. He didn’t care. He tilted his head back, throat working as he swallowed chunks that slid half-chewed into his gut.
Each mouthful made him shudder. His stomach twisted but he didn’t stop. He felt the new strength threading into his veins, blood turned to fuel.
He sucked the last bit, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then popped the seal on a hydration flask. He poured the clear liquid straight down, chasing the blood with something that tasted like bitter metal and old roots. It burned going down but left him clear-headed.
"Never gets pretty, does it?"
He looked over at Dancer, who just watched him with those pale eyes. "All that sweet dream back there, the perfect mall, the kids laughing, shiny glass... but underneath, it’s just meat. Meat and bones and sacks of half-born freaks."
He swallowed hard. "Who would’ve thought there was a fucking D-tier nest stuck and hidden inside that seaside mall? It only hit D-tier because it’s been rotting there so damn long."