The streets were empty.

For some reason, this surprised me. Back on the island, there was usually someone arriving or leaving all the time. Most zombies were aware enough to avoid Bokor, so traveling at night was something masters frequently did. For the humans, there wasn’t really anything for them to do at night. At least that was what I thought.

As we moved through the streets I realized that the buildings we were walking between weren’t for living. They seemed to be factories of some sort. I paused to peek in one of the windows to get a better look.

What I could see wasn’t much, there wasn’t much light in the city. There were various machines on the tables, all of which I had no idea what they were. Back on the island all of the food processing was done by the apprentices and we had done everything by hand. To the Bokor, these machines fostered laziness. Laziness led to people getting more complacent and complacent people died faster. I began to wonder if these machines might be why the zombie wranglers were so rude. If they had grown up in a place that didn’t demand hard work, then that would explain the suicidal drive to chase zombies.

“What’s the hold-up?” Val demanded.

I jumped at the sound of her voice. Despite any personal opinions of her profession or her lack of respect for the Bokor, there was nothing that I would call soft about her. She was ready to fight for her right to keep living, and the edge in her voice screamed that she wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from her.

“What’s in there?” I asked, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I thought all you Bokor were well-traveled?” Val’s voice dripped with venom.

I thought about firing back an insult or about telling her how much I had traveled, but Max spoke up before I could say anything.

“There are very few zombies behind city walls,” Max walked over to me, “there are some Bokor who have never been inside a city.”

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The way he said it made me sound like some sort of uncultured heathen. I wanted to defend myself, but I realized that he was right. I knew a lot about the Bokor and zombies, but I knew very little about the humans that I was supposed to protect.

Max looked in the window for a second and then he turned to me, “This is a cannery. It’s where they package food to save for the colder months.”

I nodded even though I didn’t really understand. On the island, we dried all of our fruits and vegetables so they would last during the few colder months. I wasn’t sure what they were doing in three, but it sounded like a lot of unnecessary work.

“How do you know that?” Val asked, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.

“Most Bokor deal with zombies,” Max said, “A few have to interact with the people.”

His answer seemed to satisfy her and she started back down the street. This time, she walked a little bit closer to us. We wove our way through a few more buildings and then we reached the inner wall. This was why there weren’t any people around. The factories were in one of the outer sections of the city. No one was working at night, so it made sense that there wouldn’t be anyone out there.

Val marched up to the door and banged on it three times. “Open up!”

A small metal window about the size of my foot slid open, letting light pour into the outer area. I blinked as my eyes readjusted to the light. Once they did, I was able to see a friendly older face on the other side of the door. His demeanor reminded me of Master Trine. Judging by the age on his face, I concluded that he was one of the older guards who had been moved to one of the easy assignments.

“Valerie!” He exclaimed, “How was the hunting tonight?”

In the light, I was able to see her face flush. It was also the first time I noticed her eyes. They were almost silver. Most of the humans I had seen had brown eyes, and a few had dark green. I wondered where she was from originally, because something told me that it wasn’t this ward.

“It’s Val,” She stepped away from the window, “And I found a pair of Bokor.”

“Bokor!” The door swung open to reveal an older man with a wooden right leg, “Are you putting them up at the Bucket?”

“What’s a Bucket?” I asked. Something told me that I wasn’t going to like the answer.

The old guard waved us through the door, “It’s the best place for a pair of tired travelers to rest.”