speak of at the moment.
One wave rises up and crashes into Jude, causing his left leg to crumble, collapsing like a house made of sand.
"No!" she calls out, reaching for him. “NO!” But it's too late.
Another wave strikes, this one bigger and foamier, causing Jude to crumble to a pile at his waist. He looks up at her, reaches for her, pleading. "Please, Juno. I love you!" He reaches for the Box, now half submerged, and his hand crumbles to sand when he touches it.
"I...love..." she begins. B ut it's over.
A final wave washes over Jude' s disintegrating form and, when it subsides, he's gone. She falls to her knees, screaming, grabbing handfuls of mud. "No, Jude! No!"
She feels a hand on her shoulder and spins, shrieking in surprise. It's Altair.
"Wake up, Juno," he mouths. "It's time to wake up..."
I open my eyes.
It's not Altair with his hand on my shoulder, but Traylor.
My little brother smirks at me, eyeing the sweat dripping from my forehead. "That must've been a pretty intense dream," he says. "You were screaming and everything!"
I shake my head, remembering the dream, but letting it fade. "That's weird," I say sheepishly, trying to act coy. "Did I say anything?"
"Just a name," Traylor replie s, finally turning away from me, sitting back down on the other side of the fire.
"What name?" I ask, yawning.
"Jude," the reply comes, but not from Traylor.
Altair is leaning against a brick pillar–one of the few structures still standing in these ruins–in relative shade. It's fairly dark in here, but the sun still blazes through cracks. Altair's got something in his lap. It takes me a second to realize it’s a pad of paper. A thin stick of charcoal, pilfered from the fire, rests in his right hand, sketching lines, smearing others. I can't make out the drawing from where I lay.
"Whatcha drawing?" I ask, sitting up fully now, changing the subject. Altair makes a few final strokes then picks up the pad and turns it toward me.
"That's... awesome !" Traylor admonishes.
I, however, am at a loss for words.
The sketch is of me, asleep on the ground next to the fire. It's so lifelike, the details so real, I almost think I’m looking at one of those 'fotos' in my Father's study.
"You're the last human," Altair says, noting my sile nce. "I thought it appropriate to immortalize you the only way I know how."
"Hey, what about me?" Traylor interjects, sounding honestly hurt.
"I was going to do you next, Traylor," Altair soothes. "Never worry. I just happened to catch your sister in a drawable pose first."
Traylor nods, seeming content with that. "What pose should I do?" he asks.
Altair shakes his head. "None for now. We need to get going again." He turns to peek around the red brick pillar. Traylor and I follow his gaze to where we'd parked the big Forerunner plow inside these ruins. Altair has already admitted that taking the plow was a good idea. We made almost a hundred wheels in less than a day yesterday!
We've seen no one else on the road, so far.
Whatever this building had been formerly , it was large enough to accommodate a dozen vehicles similar to our own. The roof over our heads is actually the floor above, miraculously still standing. This building once had multiple levels. We aren't sure if it was built by the Forerunners or a later civilization, but it's been picked clean of anything useful; we made sure of that before settling down for sleep. The only thing of note we’d discovered was a tarnished brass pole, standing on its own near the edge of the large main room. The floor above it had given way, so there was little to indicate as to what its purpose had been.
Strange indeed.
Altair is on his feet now, snuffing the fire out with his heavy boots. My stomach rumbles. We haven't eaten in almost two days.
Altair notices my discomfort. "We will be in the port cities in a few hours," he announces. "We will find all that we need there. We should arrive in Venecici by day's
One wave rises up and crashes into Jude, causing his left leg to crumble, collapsing like a house made of sand.
"No!" she calls out, reaching for him. “NO!” But it's too late.
Another wave strikes, this one bigger and foamier, causing Jude to crumble to a pile at his waist. He looks up at her, reaches for her, pleading. "Please, Juno. I love you!" He reaches for the Box, now half submerged, and his hand crumbles to sand when he touches it.
"I...love..." she begins. B ut it's over.
A final wave washes over Jude' s disintegrating form and, when it subsides, he's gone. She falls to her knees, screaming, grabbing handfuls of mud. "No, Jude! No!"
She feels a hand on her shoulder and spins, shrieking in surprise. It's Altair.
"Wake up, Juno," he mouths. "It's time to wake up..."
I open my eyes.
It's not Altair with his hand on my shoulder, but Traylor.
My little brother smirks at me, eyeing the sweat dripping from my forehead. "That must've been a pretty intense dream," he says. "You were screaming and everything!"
I shake my head, remembering the dream, but letting it fade. "That's weird," I say sheepishly, trying to act coy. "Did I say anything?"
"Just a name," Traylor replie s, finally turning away from me, sitting back down on the other side of the fire.
"What name?" I ask, yawning.
"Jude," the reply comes, but not from Traylor.
Altair is leaning against a brick pillar–one of the few structures still standing in these ruins–in relative shade. It's fairly dark in here, but the sun still blazes through cracks. Altair's got something in his lap. It takes me a second to realize it’s a pad of paper. A thin stick of charcoal, pilfered from the fire, rests in his right hand, sketching lines, smearing others. I can't make out the drawing from where I lay.
"Whatcha drawing?" I ask, sitting up fully now, changing the subject. Altair makes a few final strokes then picks up the pad and turns it toward me.
"That's... awesome !" Traylor admonishes.
I, however, am at a loss for words.
The sketch is of me, asleep on the ground next to the fire. It's so lifelike, the details so real, I almost think I’m looking at one of those 'fotos' in my Father's study.
"You're the last human," Altair says, noting my sile nce. "I thought it appropriate to immortalize you the only way I know how."
"Hey, what about me?" Traylor interjects, sounding honestly hurt.
"I was going to do you next, Traylor," Altair soothes. "Never worry. I just happened to catch your sister in a drawable pose first."
Traylor nods, seeming content with that. "What pose should I do?" he asks.
Altair shakes his head. "None for now. We need to get going again." He turns to peek around the red brick pillar. Traylor and I follow his gaze to where we'd parked the big Forerunner plow inside these ruins. Altair has already admitted that taking the plow was a good idea. We made almost a hundred wheels in less than a day yesterday!
We've seen no one else on the road, so far.
Whatever this building had been formerly , it was large enough to accommodate a dozen vehicles similar to our own. The roof over our heads is actually the floor above, miraculously still standing. This building once had multiple levels. We aren't sure if it was built by the Forerunners or a later civilization, but it's been picked clean of anything useful; we made sure of that before settling down for sleep. The only thing of note we’d discovered was a tarnished brass pole, standing on its own near the edge of the large main room. The floor above it had given way, so there was little to indicate as to what its purpose had been.
Strange indeed.
Altair is on his feet now, snuffing the fire out with his heavy boots. My stomach rumbles. We haven't eaten in almost two days.
Altair notices my discomfort. "We will be in the port cities in a few hours," he announces. "We will find all that we need there. We should arrive in Venecici by day's
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