Chapter 13

I open my eyes. The light’s blinding—takes me a second to adjust. I feel… warm. Fuzzy. Like I actually slept well for once. Then I see him—Vesper. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, head buried in a book, pistol by his side. His sleeping bag’s tossed on the ground. That’s when I smell it. Something rank. Body odor. My brain connects the dots right as I notice his blanket draped around me. I throw it off like it’s on fire and scramble backward, glaring at him.
Vesper looks up and smiles. “Sleep well?”
I just stare. Narrow my eyes. “Your… blanket.”
He hums. “Yeah? What about it?”
I force a shrug, pretending I’m not low-key horrified. “It smells terrible.”

He sighs and facepalms so hard I almost lose it laughing. Honestly, I don’t mind that he put it around me—it was… nice. What bugs me is that I passed out and he stayed up keeping watch. He should’ve slept. That’s not good for him. I grab the blanket, fold it neatly, and slide it across the floor like I’m dealing cards. He chuckles, scoops it up, and shoves it into his bag. Then he hands me his water bottle. I wipe the rim with my sleeve before taking a sip and hand it back, still side-eyeing him. He’s too trusting. Too open. For all he knows, I could kill him in his sleep. Weird. I stand, grab my bag, and start packing. Vesper slings his gear over his shoulder while I digitize mine into my gauntlet.
He freezes. “Did that just—did that disintegrate your stuff?”
I shake my head. Dude’s acting like it’s still the 21st century. It’s the 23rd, grandpa. I smirk. Then I watch him try to climb out a window… and fall right on his ass. I just sigh, turn to the front door, and shove it open. When I step outside, he’s still brushing himself off. I think about helping him, but nah. He catches up anyway.
We keep walking. Silent.
Eventually, we hit a dead end—a collapsed bridge blocking the path. I hear footsteps behind us. Instinct kicks in. I grab Vesper and pull him down an alley, jumping through a busted window into an abandoned bar. I climb over the counter, scanning the place. Vesper follows awkwardly. There’s a knife stuck in a table; I yank it out. He tenses like I might use it on him. Instead, I set it back down. When I turn my back, he pockets it. I pretend not to notice. There’s a locked door behind the bar. I rummage through a drawer, grab a few cocktail sticks, and pick the lock. The door clicks open. One stick snaps in half as I step through. Whatever. I drop them and hop the fence outside. Then I hear it—pitter-patter of feet. We’re being watched. I spin toward a sound. A twig snaps. A figure lunges. I move fast—rip the knife from Vesper’s pocket and drive it into the NeuroSick’s neck. It drops instantly. More footsteps. More of them.

“We’ve gotta move,” I say, already running.

Vesper’s right behind me. The lab we’ve been searching for comes into view. I grab a rock mid-run, hurl it at a window, and dive through the shattered glass. I reach back, grab Vesper’s hand, and haul him inside. I shoot the remaining NeuroSick, heart hammering, then stilling. Silence. The place is dark. Just distant murmurs. I want to climb back out that window. But I don’t. Footsteps echo. Vesper grabs my hand, tight.

“Wha—”

He shushes me. A NeuroSick lurches past us. I let him hold my hand. If it keeps him quiet, fine. He glances at me with a small, nervous smile. I look away—then shoot the NeuroSick clean through the head. A crash. Light floods in from the front door.

“Run.”

We sprint, crashing through broken furniture. I’m dragging Vesper without realizing it, until a NeuroSick tackles him from behind. He kicks the door shut just as a cabinet falls, blocking the way. I smash at the window. It won’t break. For a second, I see my father—his helpless eyes before he died. Not again.

I grab a ledge, pull myself up, and run across the upper floor, stabbing every NeuroSick that lunges at me. Then I leap off the balcony and land hard in the room below.