Dalton Reed's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Dalton Reed wanted to build a home where a dead city stood. For now he had none. He crouched under a tilted slab of concrete and watched the sun drop. Three nights he had shivered here. Three nights scavengers had circled his fire. He rubbed his hands and looked at the ruins spread below him. Someday people would live here again. Tonight he might not survive to plan it. His wolf pressed against his leg, ears flat. The desert had hardened the animal into muscle and scar, but even a good wolf could not fight off a pack alone. Dalton scratched its neck. "We need walls," he said. "Real ones." He had already climbed the old water tower twice to scout. From up there he had seen it: a heavy armored truck on its side, half a field away. Its steel panels were battered but whole. Reinforced windows. One door facing the sky. A shell built to stop bullets could surely stop the cold. He waited for full dark, then moved. The wolf ran ahead, low and quiet. Dalton reached the truck and climbed onto its exposed flank. He pried the top door open. Inside smelled of oil and rust, but it was dry. Three bodies of space. Thick walls on every side. He dropped in and felt the wind cut off at once. Then the wolf snarled. Dalton climbed back to the opening. A shape crossed the field toward him. It was not a man. Six heavy legs moved a body of cracked gray stone. Orange light glowed in the seams between its plates. It stopped at the truck and turned one bright eye up at the door. The steel shell felt suddenly thin. Dalton froze. The creature circled the wreck once, testing. A stone leg struck the panel near his head. The whole truck rang and shifted, but held. The armor that had failed its old crew was holding for him now. He stayed still and kept the wolf pressed down beside him. He did not breathe. The creature raked the steel again. Then it lost interest. It turned and walked back into the dark, its glow fading between the ruins. Dalton let out a long breath. He pulled the door shut above them and dropped the latch. For the first time in days, no wind touched him. The wolf circled twice and lay down against his chest. Dalton pressed his palm to the cold steel wall and felt how solid it was. "This is it," he whispered. "This is where we start." He had his shelter at last. But he had also seen what walked these ruins by night. If he meant to build a settlement here, he would have to drive that stone thing out first. And he had no idea how.