Chapter 31: The World is Filled With Questions
City B, November 10th? Year 0 of the Great Collapse
Zara’s breath clouded the air as she tugged Damon’s dark coat tighter around herself. Inside, Leo stirred faintly, his tiny body bundled against her chest. She felt his warmth through her layers and adjusted the collar to allow more air to circulate.
She had taken great care in remaining silent as she slipped out of the room. She needed this—she needed to act while the base was quiet and the guards, for once, seemed to have relaxed their patrols.
The alarms hadn’t sounded yet; most of the staff and guards were still winding down from the night shift, and the guards hadn’t begun their early patrols.
This was her window. Her chance to get closer to the depots Winter’s notes had mentioned.
She adjusted Damon’s coat collar around her shoulders again, trying to calm her nerves. Maybe she should have waited until sunrise when there were more people around. What would be her excuse now if she was found out?
Turning a corner, she paused, listening for the faintest footstep, any sound.
Zara couldn’t afford to take any risks. She had memorized the layout from Winter’s maps, but even then, each step was taken with extreme caution, a constant scan for any sign of patrols or unwanted attention. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she approached the intersection where the halls split.
The security patrols had been light in the early hours before dawn, but Zara wasn’t taking chances. She crouched low, slipping into a shadowed alcove as she heard the shuffle of boots nearing. She held her breath, flattening herself against the wall, keeping Leo as still as possible.
He was quiet as usual, though she could feel him squirming slightly in her coat. She dared not make any noise to alert the guards. Heavy and unhurried footsteps passed by. She exhaled, the tension in her chest loosening just a fraction before continuing.
A few minutes later, Zara arrived at the storage area. Of course, it was locked. Everything important here seemed to be locked away behind thick, rusted doors. She crouched near the entrance, her hand brushing over the cold, steel handle.