Fallout (teaser version)

Chapter 1

British Columbia, CANADA

"Tell me what I want to know, Avery, and all this will go away."

Avery twisted away from the voice so fresh in her mind and forced her legs to pump faster. Faster!—but her lungs burned and made cringe-worthy wheezing sounds, and every breath she took, her ribs felt the abuse of the last—how long had it been?—weeks, or...months? Time seemed to hang suspended about her like a haze, though if she had the time and guts to look, she knew her body catalogued the timeline of her captivity better than her mind could.

Pinpointing her geographic location wouldn't help much, considering she was hopelessly lost in the mountains. Mountains which, by her estimation, looked similar to the ones in the province of British Columbia. Last she'd known, without a shadow of a doubt, she was in the neighbouring province—Alberta.

A branch sliced her right brow-bone. She felt nothing, save for the force that made her reel backwards for a moment before regaining her balance.

All this will go away.

Go away?

As in, accompanying her cold body in a pine box? There's no way that's gonna happen.

Avery strained to see more clearly as a torrent of rain belted the jungle-resembling forest. The skin around her left eye was so swollen she could only see through a narrow slit, and now that it was raining—she slipped and pitched forward, trying to catch herself but failing. Her breath left her in a whoosh as something connected with her gut, making her see white stars against the nearly black cloak of the storm.

Then everything went black.

She came around sometime later with a lusty gasp—trembling, soaked and half-frozen, though it was summer. It was still summer, wasn't it? Avery moved her arm and gritted her teeth to keep the scream inside. Move faster, Av. Push through the pain. They're coming for you, and this time they will finish what they started.

Avery bit her lip and tasted blood, though the metallic taste had become normal to find upon her tongue as of late. Blood, everywhere. On her hands, her face—Avery glanced down at herself as she rolled onto her side, wearing nothing but a hospital gown and a men's cable-knit sweater she'd stolen as she'd escaped. She was filthy. Covered in blood, forest grime and—her gaze snagged on her bare feet. Her toes, particularly. They were tinged blue.

With a moan, she forced herself to sit up and reached for her feet. Not that her fingers were much better—their colour being cool-toned, though not as bad as her feet. She enveloped her toes with stiff fingers, willing heat back into them. Don't let them win. Don't let them win, she chanted internally—her mouth too stiff to form the words.

A sound nearby almost sent her airborne, but she summoned the self-control to keep still. She was dirty enough to blend in with the forest, unless of course, she was already in their sights. Which, considering who they were, she'd probably been as good as dead the moment she'd escaped. But she knew enough—more than enough—to make her dangerous. And that knowledge kept her alive through the living hell that had become her life. Through all the interrogations and the beatings, through the psychological warfare—all of it. Her mind wandered down a dark hole, and she mentally shook herself. Now was not the time to process what had happened.

Now was the time to run.

And never turn back.

* * *

Avery felt over her shoulder for the small ridge and the scab that had formed there.

It won't be hard to cut the incision open without a knife, she told herself as she stared at the arrowhead rock in hand. Her stomach churned at the idea, but she convinced herself she'd been through worse—much worse—at their hands. Surely she could inflict a lesser amount of pain that would later benefit her.