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cities and broken stuff.”
    “There’s really only one way to find out for sure,” Eight replied. She turned and jumped down from the stage with Seven following at a close distance. Twenty’s irritated grunting and shuffling to catch up indicated that he was in tow as well.
    “Everyone else being dead is no reason to stop making dumb decisions,” Twenty complained, unhappy to be cooperating, but pleased to remind them of it.
    After returning to the city’s streets an awkward silence overcame them. Seven and Eight, having become comfortable with one another only recently, were forced to contend with Twenty’s unpleasant personality. For as big as it was, the city became surprisingly claustrophobic when it was being traversed with stiff companions. As she debated it in her head, Eight concluded that the staggering vacancy of a city designed for millions bothered her the most.
    Not just hundreds or thousands but millions. Each unoccupied apartment tower, villa, and shop implied that once upon a time an unthinkable hive of millions had occupied the city. It was a number that resonated in her mind and tugged at her heart.
    Men, women, and children had lived and died in this city, victims of an invisible catastrophe that wiped them out. Could the monster have been responsible? Too much of the city was intact for it to have personally exterminated the citizens. Perhaps it had besieged them and the residents had fled into the surrounding land?
    “I have some theories,” Seven declared, speaking directly to Eight but making his voice loud enough for Twenty to hear. Since leaving through the opera house’s back door Seven’s silence had been infectious and his deference to Eight essentially qualified her as the leader. While she appreciated his support, she suspected that Seven did so to keep her in his protective sights.
    Twenty, on the other hand, lazed several dozen feet behind them. He stopped to admire every empty window and towering building that caught his attention. His tactile senses controlled his every impulse. Twenty would drag his finger over grimy surfaces just to leave a streak, he wrote his number into the dead soil of tree boxes beside apartment entrances.
    He was testing his senses, smelling and touching and listening to everything that landed within his short attention span. He refused to keep up, refused to assign the urgency to their journey that he conversely accused them of lacking.
    Eight’s solution was to ignore Twenty while Seven pretended not to care. She could feel Seven’s attention fixated on her, watching as she read what few street signs remained. That Seven alone maintained a vigilant watch for the monster’s return made Eight feel safe, it enabled her to lead them onward. She wanted to tell him of her gratitude but when she thought of speaking to Seven beyond what was necessary, her voice disappeared.
    Talking about the next steps in her journey prevented her from asking more serious and personal questions. Could he remember anything? If so, what? Did he find her anywhere near as annoying as she found Twenty? Seven cleared his throat and Eight realized that she hadn’t acknowledged his previous statement. Her face burning with humiliation, she said, “I want to hear them.”
    “Me too,” Twenty chirped, arriving at their sides once more. “Can’t wait for some more good news,” he added, his voice layered with sarcasm.
    “Shut up,” Eight snapped. “Continue,” she said to Seven.
    “Millions of people lived here. That’s my best guess until I see a map of this place. If you look around you’ll see that each building is still standing. There are no broken windows, no blast marks, nothing to indicate a struggle.” Eight’s head moved up and down slowly as she listened. “We haven’t seen any bodies or graveyards. Nothing to indicate the inhabitants knew their end was coming.”
    “Then what do you think happened?” Twenty pushed, impatient for the revelation.
    “They