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31. Tracy Reddington

  Tracy Reddington crouched low, reading the ground like an open diary. Crisp, sharp edges told her the prints were fresh. Deep depressions in the mud revealed the formidable weight of her quarry, and broken twigs pointed unerringly in the right direction. She blew a puff of chalk dust, revealing subtle indentations that confirmed her wildest suspicion. Was it truly possible? Had her enigmatic sister, Alma, actually tamed one of the wild bears of the mountains?

  Tracy was determined. She had to find the eldest Reddington sister and bring her home. Without Alma, their family was unraveling. Blaze was drinking too much at the tavern, a shadow of her former self. Lori was falling in with the wrong crowd, her recklessness growing. And Ruby hadn’t returned from her mission in the wasteland. Tracy knew with an aching certainty that Alma’s presence would stabilize them. Without her, things would only spiral into deeper chaos.

  Alma had said her goodbyes months ago, venturing into the wild to live her dream, to tame the untamable. But with chaos brewing, Tracy felt compelled to bring her back, to remind her of her responsibilities. Besides, if Alma had truly tamed a bear, that would grant the Reddingtons the prestige they so rightfully deserved, a symbol of their wild independent spirit. Her one sister Rita had told her to leave Alma alone, to respect her freedom, but Tracy yearned for a united family. She would find Alma, and these bear tracks were her undeniable guide.

  As Tracy rose from her crouch, a prickle of unease snaked up her spine. She felt it – the distinct sensation of being watched, of being tracked. “Show yourself!” she demanded, her voice sharp. Only silence answered. She spun, scanning the surroundings, but saw nothing. Perhaps I’m going crazy, she thought, a shiver tracing her skin.

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  And then, they emerged. The dead were walking. Abominations of rotten flesh and decaying bone. Tracy had never dared venture into the wasteland. This was her first encounter, and they were unlike anything she had imagined. She had expected mindless shufflers, but these moved with the predatory confidence of hunters. They had made a grave mistake though because Tracy Reddington was no prey.

  As they engaged in a guttural charge, Tracy whipped out her revolver. Six shots cracked, a symphony of destruction, each fired from the hip, her aim subtly shifting. Six precise headshots. Six zombies collapsed to the ground, their gruesome forms sprawling in the mud. The revolver smoked, and Tracy, ever vigilant, reloaded. Her sister Lori might be the best gunslinger in town, but she had taught Tracy well.

  Tracy walked towards her fallen targets, curiosity overriding her revulsion. They weren’t merely rotten flesh; fragments of metal were fused to their bodies, twisted plates offering additional strength. How was this possible? And how had they ventured all the way up to this mountain plateau? Weren’t these things confined to the wasteland? How had they gotten this far?

  It was a day’s journey back to the city, but these tracks were the first true sign of Alma that Tracy had found. Did she turn back, race to warn her sisters of this new, terrifying danger? Or did she press on, continuing her search for Alma, the one who could protect them all?

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