Chapter 4 The Hand of the Betrayer The ruined city was a labyrinth of shadows and broken glass, each shattered window a black, hollow eye watching our frantic movements. We had been running for what felt like an eternity, the symphony of screams from the plaza now a distant, terrible memory. The purplish sky, now a permanent feature of our new world, cast a sickly light on the concrete landscape. I, the all-American athlete, was still in top form. My breathing was controlled, my stride was even, and I could feel my physical endurance carrying us both through the urban wasteland. “This way,” I said, my voice steady. “The remains of that pharmacy. It should be structurally sound. We can hole up there for the night.” Thomas, breathing heavily, simply nodded and followed my lead. We ducked inside, the dust on the floor stirring into a choking cloud. We collapsed in the center of the room, our backs against a display counter. The quiet was a relief, but it felt temporary. ...