Chapter 10b: Into the Streets

When they had gathered their things, they raced back down the stairs and opened the front door. Marchas stopped in the doorway.

Shannai adjusted the straps on her pack and asked, “What’s wrong? Why are you stopping?”

“There’s nobody on the streets.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

He shook his head; eyes never leaving the silent road. “Yeah, normally it would be, but something just doesn’t seem right about this.” With a shrug, he stepped into the street. She followed close behind, looking from side to side, but seeing no one.

Other than the wind whipping through the empty road and the drip of water from the drizzle, the city stood eerily silent. Their boots clicked against the wet stone as they traveled through the streets, walking close to the buildings and under the eaves; staying out sight and the weather. As they crossed an alleyway, Shannai glanced between the buildings. A black cloud of smoke rose in the distance, deep within the forest of buildings. She stopped her brother and pointed. He looked at it and shrugged. Not our problem.

A splash drew their attention. The gray form of a man stumbled across the road, staggering in their direction. He approached another ten feet before Marchas stepped back, pulling Shannai behind him. The man’s throat glistened red with blood around a hole where his Adam’s apple had once been. His mouth hung open and his eyes stared at them, their moist shine coated in a dull film. His movements reminded Shannai of Bos Talle.

Marchas kept his focus on the stranger as he reached back and grasped her arm, his grip painfully tight. He pulled her with him as he raced under the eaves, away from the grisly sight. The man followed, but his wobbly gait couldn’t keep up. Within moments he became a faint shadow within the drizzle.

After a few blocks Shannai stopped. “What’s going on, Marchas?”

He shook his head, running his fingers through his damp hair. “I don’t know, but something is seriously wrong.” His gaze traveled from her to the door of the shop they had stopped in front of. Carved into the door was the symbol of a bow and knife, painted in red and black.

He put his hand on the handle and turned to her. “I think that this would be a good time to get some better weapons.”

Stopping didn’t seem like one of his better ideas, but she followed him into the store anyway. He paused in the doorway, causing her to run into his back. Her mouth opened to grumble a complaint and froze as she looked around his shoulder.

A thin man slumped over the counter, his face lying in a pool of blood. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.

Marchas pulled her through the door and pushed it shut. “Stay right there,” he said, striding to the counter.

He placed the back of his hand in front of the man’s mouth. “He’s dead. It looks like he almost turned himself inside out with his vomiting.”

She still had her hand over her mouth as she looked up at the ceiling, trying not to look at the bloody site; trying not to be sick.

Shannai looked back at her brother as he moved away from the body. Several short bows hung from the wall at the far end of the counter. He grabbed two of them, then ran to another wall and grasp two empty quivers, filling them from a barrel of arrows sitting next to the counter. He handed her one of the quivers and slung the other over his back, then he strung both bows and handed her one.

She didn’t say a word as he worked on the bows, and neither did he. His silence indicated that he was brooding about what needed to be done. Her brother was a kind and jovial man, but when stressed he would quickly become vicious with his comments. She decided to let him work instead of starting a fight.

On the way out, he stopped and grabbed a sword prominently displayed in a plaque on the wall.

The wet streets remained silent as they stepped out of the shop.

“We’ll go to the South Gate. It’s the closest one.” Marchas whispered over his shoulder as he walked south, staying near the buildings.

Shannai looked at the quite buildings and a nervous flutter crept up her spine, making her want to cower in the doorway of the arms shop. A noise made her look back, into the shop. The storekeeper stood, his face a blood-caked mess. Like a man waking from a dream, he looked around his shop. His eyes fixed on her. His mouth opened and his arms rose. He stumbled towards her.

She gasped, grabbing the door and slamming it shut with a thunderous bang.

Marchas twisted around. “What in the hell did you do that for?”

“The shopkeeper…he…he got up…he was coming for me…he…”

The anger in Marchas’ face melted away. His hand grasped hers with a reassuring squeezed as he turned around and pulled her behind him. They continued, hand in hand.

Something was wrong, seriously wrong. The fluttering in her stomach grew with every step, until she thought she would freeze with terror. She saw a ghoul in every shadow, a walking corpse in every alley, felt a cold hand grasp the back of her neck with each gust of wind. They needed to get out of the city as quickly as possible. She released her brother's hand. The reasuring gesture would only slow them down.

They had only gone a few blocks before a noise caught her attention. She stopped, causing Marchas to stop and turn. A what the hell’s wrong now look covered his face. She put her finger to her lips and cocked her head to the side, listening for the sound.