Stars Gods Wolves by Dan Kirshtein (best classic books .txt) 📕

Still, the years had been unkind to him, and he was becoming increasingly aware of his decline in social skills. To compound things, he found her to be his opposite: a pretty face who knew just what to say to start a war. But as he looked at her, as he saw her so vulnerable and lonely, he couldn’t find it within him to hate her. So he pulled the blanket tighter and walked past her, letting one hand drop to her shoulder. He looked at the wall near her face and spoke to it. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, and felt her shoulder shake as she nodded.

Sabile:Somewhere deep within what used to be an office building

Days passed, cold days that provided very little food. Ula scraped together what she could from dispensing machines or cafeteria freezers. It reminded her of her family; she would constantly wonder if this was what life was like for her father, scrounging bits and pieces from whatever she could find. It was hard for her, but she couldn’t imagine trying to do it for a family of four.

She’d grown up quite a bit during those days, but still couldn’t stop crying herself to sleep at night. She kept reminding herself of the nights when bad dreams woke her; she’d crawl into her mother’s bed and she’d hold her. “Everything ends, baby,” she’d whisper. “Even nightmares.” It always made her feel strong, as if she’d outlast most things, but Ula wondered if her mother had meant that the family would end as well. In actuality, it came from a woman who’d watched her home planet end.

Now, when these terrible thoughts kept her up at night, she wouldn’t attempt to sleep; she’d just keep moving. She was determined to put distance between herself and the monsters, but even during the most productive days she’d have to relocate due to hearing the monsters eating nearby. On one occasion, she even witnessed a building collapse from the beams being devoured. She felt so alone, so out of place, witnessing events that no Herulean should live to see.

One day, she thought she heard fireworks, but she couldn’t see them. While they were going off, she tried to track the sound. She even risked running in the open, but she didn’t see anything. That was a few days ago, but she didn’t lose hope that something was close by. Fireworks, though she’d only read about them in books, had to mean people; the monsters couldn’t have been capable of such things.

She’d never quite lost the feeling that she should make herself known. After all, it seemed like someone else was trying to be known. And if the positions were reversed, she would expect some kind of response. So, one night, while she sat in the windowsill of a fantastically warm building, she decided that she would do so.

The question that remained in her head, however, as she ate her lackluster dinner, was how to go about it without the monsters noticing. One of the most unfortunate things, she discovered, about her father’s sudden death was that he never got to tell her how he avoided the beasts, let alone draw their attention. She had been lucky enough to avoid them thus far, staying above them and out of sight. But she knew it couldn’t be like that forever. And in order to avoid the monsters, she had to know what drew them in.

Brushing the crumbs from her hands, she was happy to have made up her mind. Still, her supplies were limited. She’d have to find materials. There was already so little time to read during the day. Most of the books around here were boring anyway, not like the ones her mother picked for her. Still, she enjoyed having things to do, and she was looking forward to making friends.

Sabile:Twentieth floor, ruins of a large hotel

The slightest fizzle permeated a beaker within a room that was once very beautiful. The walls still had some color to them—a faded and brittle red—and the rug still wore its design with a dying pride. Past the table was a wall that was made up entirely of a window. It was the first time in a long time that Martin Collier had felt at home. He didn’t know why, but the deteriorated room spoke to him, and he allowed himself to be comfortable within it. Whoever owned the building had prestige, but they were gone now; all that was left were their possessions, such as the table at which Martin Collier sat, with his back to the window.

The fizzle was from the two chemicals he’d poured together. They hissed and whined, emitting a small trail of smoke. Martin gave an amused smile as he leaned over and jotted in his tablet. It only took a few moments to download all of his notes he’d saved before he’d been captured, and he was all the more impressed with his former self that he’d remembered to back up the files.

He was so grateful to be able to do chemistry again that he’d forgotten he couldn’t sleep. At this point, he’d given up making excuses as to why. He’d recognized it as self-loathing, which always seemed to find him at night, since the escape. This seemed to keep those thoughts at bay.

He’d just finished writing the reaction down when he heard a door slide open. He half-expected Josie again, and was disappointed to see Boomer. The mercenary stumbled in the dark, squinting at the man with his beakers and chemicals. “You look like the world’s worst bartender.” The demolitions expert looked perpetually unclean, but this time his oily hair was splayed in several directions, and his voice was dark and tired.

Martin wrinkled his nose, and it took him a moment to respond. The realization occurred to him that the mercenary was joking, and his responses were filtered accordingly, albeit slowly. In this time, Boomer looked back down