The massive sinkhole Leviathan had made was roughly circular, but it was large enough that she couldn’t say for sure when she had turned and started moving more west than north.
Whoops.
Well, as long as you don’t start moving south, you’re on the right track, I guess.
Fresh graffiti stained buildings, some warning people to stay away, others were the crude pictographs of hobo signs. One neighborhood had used the debris of fallen buildings to form makeshift barricades in alleys and in front of doorways. There wasn’t much intact housing here – the sinkhole sat to her left, and two blocks to her right, from what she could make out in the moonlight, the buildings were too damaged to serve as living accommodations.
Still, I’m fairly sure some people are going to try to live there.
At one intersection there were two parallel, vertical lines spray painted in yellow on opposite walls. Traffic cones, some broken, an orange striped barrier and the remains of one yellow raincoat sat in the water, much of it weighed down by rubble.
Are these yellow lines possibly a gang symbol? Merchants, perhaps?
Together, the organized debris formed a brightly colored line joining the marks that had been spray painted on the wall.
Huh.
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