Chapter 4
The takeoff wasn't a gentle lift; it was an explosion. Sarah's scream died in her throat as the floor of the vent dropped away, replaced by a dizzying, terrifying abyss.
"Close your eyes if you have to," Thomas shouted over the roar of the wind in their ears. Sarah didn't close her eyes. She couldn't. She clutched the plastic shard so hard her knuckles turned white, staring down at the concrete floor heart beating out of her ribs . They were soaring past the a discarded forklift. The massive yellow machine, once a tool for looked like a jagged, rusted mountain range.
Thomas moved with a terrifying efficiency. He didn't seem to be struggling with her weight at all. In fact, he was banking left, his body tilting into the turn with predatory grace. "There!" Sarah yelled, pointing a trembling finger toward a distant wall. "The vent with the blue marking! That's the Level 4 intake!".
Thomas flared his wings, the massive black feathers acting like airbrakes. The wind roared against them one last time before he touched down on the lip of the Level 4 vent. His feet hit the metal with a heavy, thud that vibrated through Sarah's entire body.
Sarah's legs gave way the moment her feet touched the ground. She collapsed against the side of the duct, her chest heaving as she tried to force her lungs to remember how to breathe normally. "Never," she wheezed, clutching her plastic shard. "Never. Again."
"The rations, Sarah," he said, his voice echoing in the small room. "Where are they?"
Sarah scrambled up, her hunger momentarily overriding her terror
She rushed past him, her heart soaring. She could almost taste the chocolate and oats. She reached the corner where the box usually sat, her hands trembling with anticipation.
She froze.
The floor was bare. There were no boxes. No foil wrappers. Only a few jagged crumbs and a single, deep scratch in the concrete floor that looked like it had been made by something sharp and heavy.
"No," Sarah whispered. She fell to her knees, her hands frantically patting the empty space. "No, no, no. They were right here. I saw them last week. I saw them!"
Thomas walked over, his shadow looming large over her. He looked at the empty shelf, then at the scratch on the floor. He knelt down, picking up a tiny fragment of something that shimmered. It wasn't a crumb. It was a shard of metal—part of a needle, snapped off and left behind.
"We aren't the only ones who knew," Thomas said, his voice flat.
Sarah looked up at him, her face pale, the smudge of soot on her cheek standing out against her white skin. "Someone took it. Someone took all of it. Thomas, if there's no food here... there's nowhere else. This was the only stash in this sector."
"We could just go outside you know".
"We can't Thomas we're the size of ants, and even they can carry fifty times their weight we can't do that".
"Sarah are you planning on staying here forever?".
"Yes if I survive".
"Sarah, look at this place".
"You've been here a week. You're eating mold and drinking spit off a vent. If you stay here, you aren't 'surviving.' You're just waiting for the hunger or the people with the needles to find you."
"Outside is... it's a graveyard, Thomas. The snow, the birds, the cold. you cant just fly away from everything".
"Outside, there are houses," opportunities food that can last us a century, we can find other people we can survive together.
"I can't fly away from everything, and I don't want to". Sarah took a ragged breath.
"okay, the safest bet for us is the roof top, there is a small area next to the chimney that has a small roof".
"Great, let's go".
"Not so fast, we need to make makeshift tents and find sticks we can carry".
"And how are we…gonna do that ".
"hahh", she sighed.
"we're gonna have to stay put tonight, its to dark already and we start looking tomorrow".
"So bird boy start looking for dust bunnies unless you wanna sleep on the ground", she scoffed with a smirk on her face.