Her touch is intoxicating, drawing his attention firmly to her. The words find their target, and Caleb visibly relaxes.
"That sounds like a plan to me," he says, a slight grin returning. She's still got her magic, if you'll pardon the pun.
The walk down twenty-two city blocks of carnage is another sight that one just never gets used to. Broken windows, glass. Burned out cars, wrecks left on the road. Oh, and bodies. Bloody, mauled, bullet-ridden bodies. All of which are missing all or part of their craniums. The farther they go, the more people they see. State police patrols, army convoys. People collecting bodies, and other people dumping the collections into bonfires. But the real sights are still a few blocks back: Ambulances and Red cross stations in parks and on sidewalks, overwhelmed by people. Doctors treating the injured in every open space because the soldiers won't let them back into the city until they're checked for bite wounds. And with all the manpower needed for security, there isn't much to spare for inspections. (In fact, those look like meter maids and rent-a-cops performing the actual bite-checks.) Masses of confused, scared, grief stricken people, some calling to their loved ones across police barricades. And in the middle of all this chaos and inhumanity are people the police are arresting for trying to reconnect with people they thought were dead.
It's a morbid sight for a morbid world.
Even Caleb and Corrine are stopped at a corner by a DEO agent who insists that they have to be checked for bites. Too tired to even consider arguing, Caleb instead just quietly gets into the line to be searched.
no subject
"That sounds like a plan to me," he says, a slight grin returning. She's still got her magic, if you'll pardon the pun.
The walk down twenty-two city blocks of carnage is another sight that one just never gets used to. Broken windows, glass. Burned out cars, wrecks left on the road. Oh, and bodies. Bloody, mauled, bullet-ridden bodies. All of which are missing all or part of their craniums. The farther they go, the more people they see. State police patrols, army convoys. People collecting bodies, and other people dumping the collections into bonfires. But the real sights are still a few blocks back: Ambulances and Red cross stations in parks and on sidewalks, overwhelmed by people. Doctors treating the injured in every open space because the soldiers won't let them back into the city until they're checked for bite wounds. And with all the manpower needed for security, there isn't much to spare for inspections. (In fact, those look like meter maids and rent-a-cops performing the actual bite-checks.) Masses of confused, scared, grief stricken people, some calling to their loved ones across police barricades. And in the middle of all this chaos and inhumanity are people the police are arresting for trying to reconnect with people they thought were dead.
It's a morbid sight for a morbid world.
Even Caleb and Corrine are stopped at a corner by a DEO agent who insists that they have to be checked for bites. Too tired to even consider arguing, Caleb instead just quietly gets into the line to be searched.