Witchhunt • Prequel ✓

the reign of achilles.

[THREE DAYS BEFORE]

Jonah had grown used to walking. His mind spun and his legs wobbled, but he never stopped. They had to keep moving. That was the only thing keeping them alive. His bag thudded against the backs of his thighs and his gun's strap cut into the side of his neck. 

He swallowed his own spit and turned around, walking backwards for a moment. The convoy of survivors dragged along behind him, Abby somewhere in one of the trucks with that damned book in her lap. She hadn't spoken much since the witch incident -- neither had she used her weird powers again. Everyone left her to her solitude.

The road was crumbling at the edges, brown weeds overtaking what little remained of civilization.

Jonah closed his eyes, swaying towards Adam, who wordlessly looped his arm in Jonah's. "Almost there, buddy."

"Shut up," Jonah croaked. Adam sighed heavily and allowed himself to be used as a rest as they walked. Jonah leaned his head on his friend's shoulder. 

Engines rumbling. Boots on concrete. The occasional cough from the vanguard and convoy. 

No chatter. Even the birds had been silenced. The trees wilted from lack of rain, some of them already barren of leaves. They would soon be overtaken by the sea. Jonah coughed and opened his eyes again. He'd stopped sweating some time ago, but his clothes were grimy with oil and dirt, scraping against his skin with every step.

"God, I miss showers," was all he could say.

"I miss cake."

"What?" He pulled back to look at Adam through the glare of the sun.

"Cake. Buttercream frosting." Adam leaned his head back and smiled. "ASMR vids. The internet."

Jonah snorted, tasting blood. "I could do with some cake, actually."

"I know, right?"

If he'd had enough moisture in his throat to laugh, he would have. As it was, Jonah could only let his shoulders shake and press his head into Adam's shoulder again. It was too hot to be this close, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His face was sunburned and scarred from last week's sunburn. He was dehydrated and starving. The very least he could do was hug his best friend.

[TWO DAYS BEFORE]

The girl gang was unexpected. Jonah half thought they were a hallucination when the first of them knelt at his side and pressed her hand to the dog bite in his neck. Her cold hand cut through the burn of pain and hour-long infection long enough for him to open his eyes.

"Who -- " he coughed, choking on blood.

He was far from camp. Too far. But he'd seen a flash of fur and hunger had driven him to a chase through the abandoned city. Adam would slaughter him when he got back. Then Abby would bring him back so she and Donovan could kill them again. How was he supposed to know that dogs could lay traps?

The shriek of a dog snapped him back to the present, accompanied by the roar of a motor echoing through the otherwise silent city. A motorcycle. He blinked the fog out of his eyes and squinted up at the girl who crouched over him with her hand on his ripped-open neck.