Nick pushed the rusted iron door open. The hinges screamed in discomfort, but Ricky took the door from his brother and held it open as they left the Citadel together. Beyond the concrete walls of the Citadel’s grounds was a shattered maze of stone and rubble, streets barely findable between the crumbling structures of the city. Regardless, the brothers knew the central district very well, and they knew that the easiest way to traverse the city wasn’t in fact the streets, but the ruins themselves.

 They travelled for a day or two. Look for supplies in the convoy, Harry said. Nightmares hit it a day ago, they shouldn’t be there no more.

Nick hoped they didn’t see any Nightmares whilst they were hiking. Somebody once told him they used to be human, but they asked the Devil for power and he turned them into the creatures they are now. Ricky always chastised Nick for believing that. Everyone knew they’d only been mutated by radiation, or something.

Still, the brothers agreed on one thing about the Nightmares: if you see one, run as fast as you can.

   It was beyond midnight on their third day of hiking when they reached the Spire. It was easy to find, a twisted but sturdy needle of stone and iron towering so high above the chaotic haystack that it seemed to scrape the sky itself.

“Convoy’s a mile north from here.” Nick said. Ricky looked around the clutching shadows of night, a hand resting on the hilt of his machete.

“Best not to risk more night travel than we need.” Ricky replied. He wasn’t scared of the night, but he certainly wasn’t ignorant of it either. “Besides, I’m fucking starving.”

Nick chuckled. “Well, we best check the checkpoint n’ make sure it’s clear. Should get us a look at this convoy too."

The boys knew better than to take the main entrance to the Spire. The glass doors were shattered, and the razor-sharp shards were never removed. Even if you didn’t cut yourself, the hollow shell of the lobby echoed so prominently that anything lurking inside would clearly hear an entry.

Instead, Nick led the way to the proper way in. A neighbouring building brought them to the third floor of the Spire if you managed to climb through the hole in the roof and crawl along a wooden plank which went through a large crack in the Spire’s wall. Nick and Ricky got inside without issue, and on the unsecure lower floors they knew to keep their machetes in hand as they worked their way up to the checkpoint. They had fire-arms, but ammunition was expensive and hard to come by.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

The corridors were almost blindingly dark, but within the hour the brothers picked their way up to twenty first floor. This high, the moonlight shone into the halls from the cracked windows which made it much easier to see. The checkpoint was on this floor, in fact it was more or less half of this floor. Half way down the entry corridor was a large iron door which had been erected by the Dragon Brand when they claimed the Spire. This section of the building was the safest and the sturdiest, ideal for the use of the Brand’s scouts and rangers who needed places to camp across the city.

Nick found the key and opened the door, locking it behind them. His brother found the lights and they were both relieved to find that they were still working. At last they could relax knowing they were safe. Nothing could have gotten inside, excluding other Dragons.

“If you want to look for that convoy from the window, I’ll check the store-room.” Ricky said as he disappeared around the corner. Nick was on his way through the corridors, shrugging off his worn leather jacket as he went before he heard his brother some few moments later.

Nick! Come here!

Startled, he turned and raced toward the store-room, machete drawn. He found Ricky stood in the open doorway. He pushed past to see what the problem was.

On the floor of the storeroom was a small campfire. Huddled just beyond it between the shelves of canned food, spare clothes and bedrolls was a startled young girl, no older than twelve. Her skin was dirty, her blonde hair near brown and matted with dust. Her light khaki anorak was rolled up at the sleeves, showing a leather bracer on the inside of her left wrist, and a bloodied bandage on the other. Her dark jeans weren’t at all ripped, and Nick realised she must have found them in the checkpoint because they were the cleanest article of clothing on her. She didn’t even have the luxury of footwear.

But more importantly, she had been roasting raw meat over her fire. That couldn’t have come from the checkpoint, and the bloodstained hunting arrow left outside of her quiver implied that the girl had hunted game in the city on her own.

“Please!” She whimpered. “Don’t hurt me! I just wanted shelter!”

Ricky and Nick exchanged glances. “How did you get in here?”

The girl moved slowly to the side of the room and pulled a heavy steel box to the side. Behind it was a passage into the wall which lead to the air vents. Nick knew it was there, but that box was heavy. There was no way somebody could have pushed it aside from inside the vent, he’d tried to do it himself when he was asked to assess the Checkpoint’s security last month.

He slowly placed his machete on the ground, and in turn the girl pushed her recurve bow to the side. Nick came to kneel in front of her, studying her light blue eyes quizzically.

“Who are you?”