Chapter 66
VI
The perimeter is a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire, separating the Rot from the outside world.
Old, rusted, patched in places with scrap metal and rebar.
Beyond it, the city, or what’s left of it, stretches gray, broken, mostly empty.
A few buildings still stand, windows shattered, walls crumbling.
The street is cracked and overgrown with weeds.
I inhale fresh air for the first time in weeks.
Standing on the other side of the fence is a woman.
Older, maybe fifties. Gray hair pulled back in a loose bun. Thin, worn coat. Eyes red-rimmed like she hasn’t slept in days. She grips the fence when she sees me, fingers curling through the wire.
“Vi,” she breathes.
I stop a few feet from the barrier. Armen and Sting flank me.
“Do I know you?” I ask.
“No.” Her voice cracks. “But you know my daughter. Mara.”
My chest tightens. “Mara.”
“She disappeared three months ago.” The woman’s hands shake on the fence. “She said she was coming here. To the Rot. To find you. She said you’d been gone too long and someone needed to make sure you were okay.”
I stare at her, processing. Mara came looking for me.
Mara, who I fought with about my father. Mara, who I haven’t spoken to in over a year. Mara, who thought I was guilty by association. Mara, who turned her back on me.
She came here. For me.
“I haven’t seen her,” I say . “I didn’t know she was looking for me.”
The woman’s face crumples. “Are you sure? Maybe she’s here and you just don’t know. Maybe she’s—”
“If she entered the Rot,” Armen interrupts, voice flat, “she’s not Vi’s to find.”
The woman’s gaze snaps to him. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Armen continues, “the Rot doesn’t keep records. People come in. Some stay. Some disappear. If your daughter is here, Vi can’t help you find her.”
“But—”
“You need to leave,” Sting says. Not cruel. Just final. “This is as close as you get.”
The woman looks back at me, tears streaming down her face. “Please. She’s all I have. If she’s in there, if she’s alive, please just tell her I’m looking. Tell her to come home.”
My throat tightens. I want to help. I want to promise I’ll search. I want to give her something. But I can’t. Because if Mara is here, she’s not mine to save. She’s someone else’s. Bound. Claimed. Lost.
Just like me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
The woman sobs once, then presses her forehead to the fence. “Please.”
Armen’s hand finds my shoulder. “We’re done here.”
He pulls me back, turns me around. Sting stays at the fence for a moment longer, watching the woman. Then he follows.
I glance back once.
The woman is still there, gripping the wire, watching me walk away.
I don’t speak until we’re back inside, the perimeter door locked behind us.
“What if she’s here?” I ask. Voice small.
Armen doesn’t slow. “Then she’s not your problem.”
“But—”
“Vi.” He stops, turns to face me. “You start looking for her, you put yourself at risk. Other crews won’t like you poking around their Runts. And if you find her and she’s with someone dangerous, what then? You think we’re going to start a war over your old friend?”
I swallow. “No.”
“Good.” He starts walking again. “Let it go.”
Sting steps closer, voice quieter. “If she’s alive, she’s surviving. Same as you. That’s all you can hope for.”
I nod slowly.
But the image of Mara’s mother, gripping the fence, begging, stays burned in my head. I know what it’s like to have unanswered questions.