Lost in Ash (The Phoenix Experiment - Book 1)

CHAPTER FOUR

Six shrugged, "Some of them."

"Six," Alva warned.

The young girl threw up her hands in defense, "What? Some are. I'm not lying."

"No, you're being purposefully vague. Which is not how you get someone to agree to a scheme," Alva crossed her arms over her chest as she stared down the girl.

"Ugh," Six groaned, stomping her foot. It was the most age-appropriate thing she'd seen the girl do and a flutter found its way into Alva's heart. "Fine. The rumor is this Pidgeon was a Command. Not just any Command though. He was stationed under one of the four Captains, the one in Halayad. They say he knows how to cross the strait, without the bridge or cliffs... I need to get there. To Elinora."

Alva processed the information, her mind racing with questions and trying to fill in holes. Eventually, she nodded. "Don't give so much away so fast."

"But you just said-" Six began to yell before Alva held up her hand for silence.

"Never give away all you know. That way if someone screws you, they're screwed too," Alva advised.

Six's anger melted away, and in its place came a smirk and chuckle. "Whatever," she mumbled turning her attention back to the road.

"So," Alva started as she fell in step with Six for the first time on the journey. "How do I find him?"

***

Alva had followed the directions exactly as Six had dictated. She wasn't sure where she was expecting to end up or why she had believed it would be a simple grocery store. Six had referred to this area's part of the district as 'grocery,' and while food littered the stalls none of it was edible.

She had been able to smell the rotting food several streets away. As she had walked closer, she had hoped it would pass, somehow though it only got stronger. The moment she thought she was used to the smell and foul odor would hit the back of her throat. On more than one occasion she had to stop and arm herself mentally against the swirling of her head and stomach. The worst of the smell came after she turned off the main street and into the weaving side roads. Before the fires, the roads had been perfectly labeled, hard to get lost even if you were a visitor. Now, all the signs were long past destroyed, not that they mattered anymore, and where each road led was a mystery.

She hadn't noticed the food scrapes every few feet. Or the wrappers that fluttered past her. Alva was too busy going over the directions in her head, thinking surely, she had made a mistake. The bleakness of the boarded-up buildings and scorch marks distracted her from the litter all around. There was something eerie in the air, something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. In another life, the feeling would have stopped her in her tracks.

The deeper she walked into this part of the district; Alva noticed the food waste that served as decoration. Wrappers and plastic bags hung from purposeless street laps like garlands on a Christmas tree. Broken glass and furniture created their own little paths ways, making each step Alva took a declaration of a person's presence. Rotting food was sat on every corner and at every doorstep, set up in a way that reminded Alva of an altar. The curious nature inside of her wanted to poke and probe looking for answers, but there wasn't time to waste.

Eventually, Alva found herself in front of the building that Six had described. It was, in fact, an old grocery store, one of the large chains that had sold everything from food to clothes. Inside the building was stripped. No aisles or barriers to suggest they had ever been there. Not even a single cash register at the front. There was nothing.

Except, for a chair.

A single, metal folding chair sat in the dead center of the empty grocery store. Alva felt her adrenaline spike and had to take a deep breath to center herself. Trying to convince her flight or fight instinct to choose fight when all evidence suggested fleeing. She forced herself to walk forward further into the den.

It was at that moment, as she moved closer to the chair that Six had never mentioned a name or who she should be asking for. Or if she had the only thing that had stuck with Alva was 'Pidgeon.'

The sound of cans scattering to her left pulled all her focus. She turned her body to face the threat, pulling a small knife from her jacket pocket.

As her eyes scanned for danger along the far-left wall, a warmth spread across her back. She stiffened at the feel of a heavy hand on her shoulder and a cool press of sharp metal against her neck.

Alva gulped, it was enough movement to cause a hot trickle of blood to run down her neck and toward her collarbone. "I didn't know Pidgeons were such good predators." She sassed, straining her eyes enough to see the shadow looming behind her.

"What did you call me?" A rough voice growled in her ear.

"I called you useless," Alva declared before plunging her knife into the man's side.