Late at night, Zone 15 was pitch-black and silent.
To save power, the streetlights in Zone 15 were all sound-activated.
Only the security booths scattered throughout the zone glowed with a faint light.
Tall, cold-hardy trees stood in the dim light, like loyal sentinels guarding the city.
In a tree diagonally across the street from where Vine's team was staying, Wanai was feigning sleep with his eyes closed. His breathing was so shallow it could hardly stir the snowflakes landing on the tip of his nose.
After he'd fired that shot, the military team had begun a sweeping search of the surrounding streets. They had even found the rooftop he'd been on, forcing him to relocate.
Now, he wore an outer robe the color of the tree bark. He was nestled in the crook of two thick branches, perfectly situated in a blind spot from the street below.
He had remained motionless in this spot for five or six hours. Snowflakes had covered him completely, making him almost one with the tree.
