In the light of the moon, the broken towers of the city center had seemed close, no more than an hour's walk away. But as the first rays of the morning's sun had touched their fractured tips, the countless buildings around them and the true size of the place became apparent.

And now, the heat of the day was scorching Beth's scalp while the fatigue of a night without sleep caught up with her.

"Let's rest," she said.

Burt didn't look at her—they hadn't said much since they had left Leo and his daughter. She still scorned him for what he had tried to do and wondered if his silence was a sign of contrition.

But he finally nodded. "Same. And we should hide. Your friend Leo said something about other gangs. More rats. We'd better travel at night."

"He's not my friend." She stopped, mentally revisiting the scene of last night when Burt had tried to kill Hope and Leo, wondering about his motives. Was he jealous?

His skin had even less color than usual, and his tired gaze was on the ground between them.

Her anger abated. He was her only companion in this hostile world. They shouldn't fight. Rather, it was time to find a place to hide.

They stood at the top of a gentle slope studded with the stone and concrete remnants of former buildings—chimneys, a few walls, and blackened remains of wooden ties. Fires must have claimed the rest of the houses long ago.

Almost at the bottom of the incline, where it met the flatter terrain of downtown, a large brick building had survived, promising shade and shelter.

Beth pointed at it. "Let's try there."

Burt wiped his brow. "Okay."

As they got closer, Beth recognized that most of its roof was gone—only a few charred gables remained. But the two floors below it looked intact, the wall of brick almost unscathed.

Burt ascended a wide flight of steps to what looked like the main entrance and tried the handles of the iron-reinforced double door.

"Locked," he said. "Do you think we should ring for them to open?" He pointed at a brass bell hanging at the gate's side.

The lightness in his words relieved Beth. It sounded like a token of peacemaking. Still, the silence of the place and its locked door made her feel uneasy. "If it's locked, the house might have residents. We should look for another shelter."

"I don't think anyone's living here." Burt gestured at the dead trees and ruins surrounding them. "It's a dreary neighborhood. Let's check the other sides. Maybe there's a second entrance. We should get you out of this heat."

The tentative smile he gave her made it hard for her to say no, so she shrugged.

As they walked the length of the front side, Beth tried to peer through the windows, most of which were broken but secured behind rusty metal bars. Yet they were above her head, so all she could see were the blank ceilings of the rooms inside.

As they turned the corner, they found another door, similar to the first one—two wings at the top of a small stair. But that one was locked, too.

Beth studied the facade with growing unease. "Let us look elsewhere. This place is uncanny. It's like a fortress."

"Fortress sounds good to me," said Burt. "Something safe and strong is what we need."

"But what if it does have inhabitants?" She doubted that hospitality or charity would be offered behind these walls.

"Then we'll talk to them. Or run." He grinned as he continued along the wall.

At the back of the building, the windows were closer to the ground. Burt stepped up to one and grabbed the iron grid guarding it. He pulled himself up.

The metal groaned in response, and with a screech, the grid moved. Burt let go and fell backward, planting his buttocks in the dirt.

"Shit," he said.

Beth looked left and right, afraid that the noise had alerted someone or something lurking in these parts.

Nothing moved.

The grid now hung askew and leaned away from the wall, leaving its window and the shadowy room beyond unguarded.

Burt got up, dusting his pants. "Hey, look, I've found our way in."

Beth wasn't eager to explore, but she couldn't compete with her friend's curiosity. Only minutes later, he had collected enough waste and junk to form a pile under the window, high enough to climb in. He scaled it and paused, halfway up. "Give me the gun."

She hesitated. "You're sure you want to do this?"

He nodded and held out his hand.

She handed him the weapon, and he pulled himself up. Moments later, he had vanished inside.

Beth stood, listening to the sounds of him moving.

He showed himself again. "Looks good, come." He reached out and down, offering her a hand.

Reluctantly, she got on the shaky pile, grabbed his fingers, and let him pull her up.

She found herself in a narrow but tall room, with a desk and a chair at one side. The cracked computer screen on it was as dusty as everything else here.

A single, closed door was the only exit. Burt reached for its handle.

"Careful," she said, "don't..."

But he had already opened it and crossed its threshold. Cursing his brashness, Beth followed.

The hallway on the other side was bare. More doors were placed at intervals along its walls—some of them open and admitting daylight.

A faint draft stirred goosebumps along her sweaty back.

"This way," Burt said. "It gets brighter there." He gestured to their right and set out towards what looked to be some kind of hall, where the corridor became wider.

Beth listened into the house, but she only heard Burt's footfalls and breathing.

She followed him, passing an open door on her right. The sight in the room on its other side made her stop.

"Wait," she said.

"What is it?"

"Books!" Bookshelves lined the walls of the room, their dark wood gleaming where it wasn't hidden by thousands of books.

"Look at this!" She approached a shelf, touching the brittle spines.

Burt grabbed her arm. "Don't dally," he whispered. "We first need to check this place out. There'll be time for reading later."

With a last, wistful look at the crammed shelves, she let herself be dragged from the room.

She would be back here—back for a closer look.

They reached an intersection, with another hallway branching off to their left, towards the interior of the building. A door at its end stood ajar, the space beyond bright with sunshine. It had to be some central court or open area surrounded by the house.

Burt headed for it while her mind was still back in the library. All the books—ancient paper on polished wood.

Polished—no speck of dust.

"Burt, there was no dust—"

"Shh," he stopped her short, whispering. "Look at this!" He pointed at the scenery outside the door.

When she joined him, Beth couldn't suppress a gasp of surprise.

As expected, they stood before an inner courtyard, a square of open space framed by the building. The blue sky above it was as expected, too, and so was the noon heat emanating from it.

Yet what was unexpected was the color green.

The green of living plants. Rows of them ran along the walls. Some of the growth stood taller than Beth; some would hardly reach her knees. Sticks or grids secured many of them, clearly tended by caring human hands.

Nothing moved—no sign of the gardener.

A squarish pit or pool formed the center of the courtyard. A large foil with a metal sheen spanned it, making it impossible to see what was beneath. It dipped in the middle, like the inverted, pointed roof of a tent. A few stones nested at its lowest spot, holding it taut.

"What the fuck is this?" Burt said.