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Rachel heard the repurposed servant bell ring. She put down her trowel and headed across the rooftop garden toward the makeshift elevator lift on the side of the tall apartment building.
Cyrene had returned from scavenging. That was her in the yellow baseball cap way down at the bottom of the alley. Rachel cranked down the elevator made of gears and pulleys. It was a strain cranking it back up, so Cyrene must have had a good haul.
As the elevator passed the second floor, Rachel saw them coming—the dead. A downdraft carried their stench toward her and she gagged a little. It was an odor she couldn’t quite get used to. She threw all her might into the task, thankful that Cyrene spared her the grime and grit of scavenging.
Cyrene pulled the wobbling chassis to the roof, to sta
