She opened the back door and stepped inside. This was the rear entrance, and she had been here a few times before. It was her little secret. Her passageway for a quick escape.
The hallway was long and dark. It smelled of dust and… something else. She had been wandering the city long enough to differentiate between the scents of rotting food and rotting bodies. She shuddered and ran through the hall, locating the stairwell. She climbed to the top level and opened the door that led to the roof. A five-foot space between this building and the next stretched before her. Elle ran and jumped, easily clearing the distance. Yet another skill she could thank martial arts and gymnastics for.
It was a good thing she’d had hobbies before Day Zero.
She ran to the other side of the roof. A telephone pole sat about two feet away from the corner of the building. Elle hopped onto the metal pegs and climbed down, moving fast. She reached the alley.
“Gotcha!”
Elle choked on a scream. A Klan member was waiting in the shadows, armed with a wicked-looking knife. She ducked under the vicious slash of the weapon as it sliced through the air. Her attacker was an older man, sparse gray hair hanging in greasy strands to his shoulders.
She dodged him like a cat and sprinted down the alley. The heavy thud of his footsteps echoed off the buildings as she ran.
“She’s down here!” the man yelled. “Over here! Come on!”
Elle didn’t dare look back. She was too busy concentrating on running. She skidded around the corner. This boulevard was a little smaller than the last one. Where was she? She recited the street names in her head. She was nearing Holly’s Books, an abandoned bookstore.
She saw it, the small shop wedged into the bottom of a hotel.
She knew exactly where she was now.
Something whizzed by her left shoulder. She swerved and jerked her head left, straining to see behind her. The old man was chucking broken chunks of concrete at her, a last ditch effort to slow her escape.
Stupid, Elle thought.
But he was yelling, making an ungodly amount of noise. She needed to hide before every Klan member on this side of the city came running. Elle came to a corner and turned left, but there were people coming up the street. She went right, and there were more.
They’re boxing me in, she thought, scared. What do I do? Where do I go?
A tiny walkway cut between a hotel and a steakhouse. Both buildings were surrounded with tall weeds. She darted into the small path. It was barely wide enough for one person.
Elle reached the end of the walkway. It stopped inside a courtyard. The shrubbery was out of control, growing through the cracks in the cement and winding around drainpipes.
She was trapped. The courtyard only had one entrance — and one exit. Her heart slammed against her ribcage. She was going to die this time. The Klan would grab her, drag her into the street, and slit her throat on the asphalt. They’d leave her dead body there as a warning to other foragers…
“Hey! Psst! Girl!”
Elle spun around, searching for the source of the voice. A window was open above her head, one of the many windows overlooking the courtyard. She stared. She saw a flash of blue eyes, frizzy blonde hair and a smattering of freckles. It was a girl, and she wasn’t much older than Elle.
“Come on!” she hissed. “Climb!!”
She pointed to the drainpipe crawling up the wall. Elle didn’t hesitate.
Her life was on the line, and this was a way out.
She climbed the drainpipe, pulling herself up. Her muscles strained, but Elle was nimble and quick, and she reached the open window in no time. The girl slammed the window shut. Elle sprang to her feet, panting.
“Follow me,” the girl whispered.
Elle looked around. The room in which they were standing was abandoned. It had been ransacked. The girl ran and Elle followed. She was taller than Elle by a full head, and she moved soundlessly.
They entered the hall. It was eerily silent here. The girl zigzagged from room to room, never stopping.
Elle wondered if this was some sort of a trap.
Was this girl a Klan member?
Then she put the thought out of her mind. She didn’t have a choice.
“Stairs,” the girl said, breathing hard. “Climb. Let’s go.”
The girl shoved an exit door open and they entered a cold stairwell. It was dark, and Elle had to feel her way up the stairs. She moved as quickly as she could, staying close to the girl, not wanting to get lost in the thick darkness.
They climbed until Elle’s legs burned with the effort. The girl pushed through a door and sunlight seared Elle’s vision. Her eyes filled with tears as she struggled to adjust to the light. The girl slammed the door shut.
They were on the roof.
And they weren’t alone.
Elle took in her surroundings. The roof was big, overlooking the boulevard and the Santa Monica beach. They were at least twenty-five stories up. Three people were surrounding Elle. A tall, handsome young man with dark skin and glimmering brown eyes, and two Asian kids. A girl and a boy. They looked like twins.
“The Klan was going to kill her,” the girl stated. She had a distinct southern accent. “I had to do something.”
“She could be one of them,” the young man said, glaring at Elle.
“She’s not.” The girl looked at Elle. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I’m not an enemy,” Elle said. “I’m a survivor.”
“Great. So what do we do now?” The Asian girl spoke up. Her short, shiny black hair caught the sunlight. “Jay? What do we do?”
The young man peeked over the ledge of the building.
“I don’t know,” he said, never taking his gaze off Elle. “There’s nowhere to go, unless you all want to jump.”
“I don’t think so,” the frizzy blonde replied.
“They know we’re up here,” the Asian girl said.
“We can jump,” Elle suggested.
The words felt heavy and clumsy on her lips. It had been a long time since she had spoken aloud.
“You’re insane,” the Asian girl said.
“No. I mean we could jump to the next building.” Elle pointed. The roof couldn’t be more than ten feet away from the next building. “They wouldn’t expect that.”
Hadn’t she just done this stunt? This was only a few more feet.
“That’s too dangerous,” the young man - Jay - said.
Elle walked to the ledge. The Klan was gathering around the base of the building. In five or ten minutes, they would burst through the door on the roof, and they would all be dead. Elle had seen it happen to other survivors. The Klan showed no mercy.
“You can stay here,” she shrugged. “I’m jumping.”
She gauged the distance. She was small, light, and strong. She gave herself room to run and sprinted. The span between the two buildings was dizzying. The asphalt spun beneath her, twenty-five stories below. If she fell, she was dead. They would need an eraser to get her off the pavement.
She flew through the air.
And she came up an inch short. She hit the side of the ledge and slid, her fingers catching the edge of the building. She barely had a grip. Her fingers burned and her arms screamed with the effort. The kids on roof were yelling.
“Oh, my god! Pull up, kid!”
“She’s freaking insane — I told you!”
Elle was terrified, hanging by her fingers twenty-five stories above the ground. She managed to pull herself up enough to get her forearm levered over the ledge. She hung for a moment, gathering her strength, then forced herself up, rolling over the ledge. She landed on the roof, smacking the side of her cheek as she hit.
She trembled as she sat up.
That was a close one. Too close.