Authors: Logan Thomas Snyder
“Fine. Up and at ‘em it is. Which building?”
“That one, I think.” He gestured over the squat little building flanking the far side of the alley, toward the top of one rising a bit higher beyond.
“You sure? That’s not even the tallest one.”
“I’m sure. Once we’re up top we can use the shadow of the tallest one to figure out which direction is which.” It wasn’t much to go on considering they had no particular destination to head toward, but at least it would be one more piece of information they didn’t have before.
“Right, then. Off we go.”
The inside of the building was even more sweltering than outside, the air thick and fetid. Rubble was strewn everywhere, piled high in places, though not so much as to make it impassable. There seemed to be no order to it, no rhyme or reason. It was as if some inhuman force had reached down from on high and shaken the building to its core, sloughing off bits and pieces from within to land wherever they may.
Glancing back at her, Willem could see the question forming on her face even before she asked. “Still think this is a good idea?”
“It’s the only way,” he answered with as sure a tone as he could muster. “Just keep to the interior hallways. That’s how they spotted me last time, looking out one of the windows.”
“Alright, let’s keep moving. I can barely breathe in here.”
The slog up the stairs was sweaty and staggered. Finally, they reached the top floor, only to find the door at the end of the stairwell was padlocked shut. A loop of chain was strung through its handle and around a thick length of pipe running parallel with the door. Willem struck at the lock several times with the butt of his rifle to no avail. He was just about to take another run at it when Theresa put her hand on his shoulder.
“Let me give it a try,” she volunteered. Ushering him back, she threaded the barrel of her rifle through the space between the links, using it as a fulcrum to twist the chain over upon itself. At first, Willem was worried she might strain the rifle’s housing to the breaking point. The rusted, time-worn chain proved no match. It gave way with a loud
snap
and the snaking sound of metal on metal, its broken ends pooling limply at their feet. She turned back to Willem with a graceful gesture of her hand. “After you,” she offered. Her eyes shone triumphantly even in the half-lit gloom of the stairwell.
Willem smirked, cracking the door gamely. After trudging through the guts of the building, the air that greeted them on the other side was almost sweet with the taste of success. It was even a bit cooler, if only by a degree or two. Willem ventured out first in a ready crouch, then dropped to his belly and shimmied forward on his elbows and knees. Theresa followed behind in the same fashion, the two of them splitting up to cover opposite corners of the top of the building.
Raising his rifle, Willem scoped out the top few floors of the building. From this height he could see it was more or less unfinished, like most of the other buildings. Plastic sheeting billowed between the skeletal beams holding up bare, empty floors. Willem was just calculating the direction of its shadow when a flash of movement on the top floor caught his eye. He aimed the scope higher, his eyes widening as he saw it again. Someone was up there, he realized. He triple-checked before calling Theresa over just to be sure, waiting several long minutes to make sure it wasn’t his own wishful thinking playing tricks on him.
“All clear on the other corners,” Theresa said. She had already made a circuit of the rooftop’s other three points of interest, shimmying up beside him so stealthily it startled him right out of his eagle-eyed vigil. “What’s going on over here that’s got you so wound up?”
Willing his heart out of his throat and back into his chest, he steadied his rifle, pointing it toward the roof. “Take a look and tell me what you don’t see.”
Theresa followed suit, frowning behind her scope. “Honestly? I have no idea.”
“Top floor. There’s no plastic sheeting up there.”
“Okay. What does that mean?”
“Keep looking.”
A moment later another flash of movement violated what little light shone through the unfinished top floor.
“See that?”
“Damn right, I did. Someone’s up there, huh?”
“Yup. It must be some kind of recon platform.”
“Motherfuckers. They’ve got it all figured out, don’t they?”
“Not anymore. Now we know their secret. Let’s get into the stairwell before whoever is up there spots us.”
“Right. Cover me.”
Theresa drew up to her knees and bolted, leaving Willem behind with his rifle angled up at the building. He wasn’t sure the rifle had the range to reach the higher roof if it came down to it, but it was better than the two of them making a run for it willy-nilly. The last thing they needed was to give the assholes hunting them more targets to practice on, after all.
“Okay, I’m clear,” she said from the stairwell. “I’ve got you covered.”
Willem vaulted to his feet, legging it for the stairwell in that awkward half-crouched stance. Theresa pulled the door closed behind him, the two of them sucking down deep, relieved breaths. As they took to their feet again she reached out, drawing him into a tight, clinging embrace.
“Uh, Theresa? Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” she said after a long beat. Drawing back, she smoothed a hand down the front of his jumpsuit. “I’m good. Just… forget it. I’m good. So, what now?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He gripped her shoulder, eyes gleaming brightly. “We have to take that platform.”
Willem and Theresa made camp the rest of the day inside the sauna-like stairwell, keeping the door cracked so they wouldn’t suffocate. It also gave them ample opportunity to study the recon platform more discreetly through their scopes.
“Whoever’s up there is seriously keeping a low profile,” Theresa observed after her turn on watch. “I didn’t see a damn thing.”
Willem took over, leaning into the frame of the door as he sighted in on the building. “There’s no guarantee that’ll work both ways, though.”
“Right. That’s why I was thinking we should make our move at night. Less chance of being spotted.”
“That’s what I was thinking, too.” He was still studying the building when he realized she hadn’t said anything for several seconds. Looking back, he found the space behind him suddenly, almost terrifyingly empty. “Theresa? Theresa?!”
“Relax,” came her voice in reply, echoing up through the stairwell. “I needed to go.” A few moments more and she was hiking back up the stairs, closing the last of the snaps over her chest. “It’s getting really dark, Willem. My urine, I mean. I don’t know how much longer we can keep on like this. If they don’t have water up on that platform—”
A rip of thunder interrupted her, announcing the cracking of the sky and the clouds that had been looming above all morning. The rain that followed came down in sheets so thick and refreshingly cool they could have danced beneath it like children playing in the spray of a fire hydrant on a hot summer’s day. Instead, Willem improvised a much less risky way of collecting the water by leaning his rubber shoes against the outside of the stairwell. Theresa caught on and followed suit. For several minutes they waited as the rain washed clean the synthetic material. Finally, they could wait no longer. Together they collected and upended the liquid bounty into their parched mouths, all smiles as they greedily slaked their thirst.
“I never knew feet could taste so good,” Theresa said with a breathy gulp as she finished off the first mouthful. Willem laughed so hard he took a swallow down the wrong pipe, hacking out a sputtery cough in reply. “Shit! Sorry, Will.” She gave him a quick slap on the back for good measure, dislodging the wet bubble of air from his esophagus. The shortened version of his name proved a fair degree tougher to expel. There was something about it, a skin-prickling familiarity he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Willem? Are you alright? You look like you saw a ghost.”
Not quite, he thought. He only felt like one. “Have you—have you called me that before, Theresa?”
“Have I called you what?”
“
Will
. You called me Will.”
“Did I?” The realization seemed to puzzle her. “Huh. I guess I did, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.”
Theresa made what could only be described as a sour-milk face. His tone was stiff, just short of accusing. “No,” she said flatly. “I haven’t called you that before. Why? Do you have a problem with it?”
Even after all the water he had slugged down, Willem suddenly found it hard to swallow.
Was
he accusing her of something? “I don’t know. Maybe. Let’s just try to focus, alright? It’ll be dark soon.”
“Hey, fine by me.”
They spent the next few hours wilting beneath an incandescent silence, trading shifts at the watch and dozing fitfully in between. Finally, Theresa roused him with the news that night was near to falling. “About time,” Willem murmured, lifting up to dust himself off.
“My thoughts exactly. Let’s get moving.”
Something about the way they had been holding each other a remove the last few hours gave him pause. “Theresa?”
“Hm?”
“We’re still in this together, right?”
She looked up from checking her rifle one last time when he spoke, her face cinched tight in anticipation of the action to come. “Damn right, we are.”
“Good. Then let’s show these sons of bitches what it means to be hunted.”
They hit the ground running, sweeping from block to block toward their target beneath the moon’s wan gaze. With no hunters to harry them or their own thirst turning them inside out, they made much better time than during the day. Only minutes later they were closing in on the base of the building, waiting and watching from a safe distance for any sign of hunters patrolling the perimeter. Willem counted off sixty seconds. He was just about to make a dash for the building when Theresa put an arm out, stopping him in his tracks. He followed her line of sight to see two of the hunters round the corner of the building. They were laughing and passing a cigarette back and forth, their rifles slung across their backs. At the entrance, one leaned forward, apparently activating a biometric scanner. The hunters disappeared inside a moment later, the door closing pneumatically behind them.
“Now,” Theresa said, springing to her feet and darting forward. Willem was hot on her heels as she reached the entrance just in time to catch the door before it was reunited with its frame. They traded an anxious glance, readying their rifles as the sound of another door closing issued from within. Finding nothing but an empty corridor, they stepped inside slowly, cautiously.
Unlike the buildings they had been in so far, this one was clean and brightly lit. Willem lifted a hand against the offending light, squinting as he stared down the length of the corridor. There were several doors to choose from—or, rather, there would have been but for the newly installed magnetic locks and biometric scanners securing them.
With nowhere else to go but forward, Willem and Theresa moved quickly, following the corridor to an access door opening onto the stairwell. Unlike the other doors, it was unsecured.
Like the corridor itself, the stairwell was well lit and free of the rubble that
strewn throughout the other buildings. There was something else, though, something that had been nagging at Willem since the moment they stepped into the building. Glancing up, it suddenly came to him.
“What is it?” Theresa wondered.
“Feel that?” He pointed to the vent above his head. “Heat. These fuckers have heat.”
“Let’s go see what else they have.”
They emerged onto the top floor some ten minutes later. With the exception of a tent big enough for two set up in the center, it was as empty as they had observed from their own perch earlier that morning. Flanking the tent, Willem went left as Theresa swept right.
It was only as they got within earshot that they realized someone inside was talking on a two-way device.
“Seriously?” the voice on the roof asked through muted laughter. “Over.”
The voice on the other end was underscored with static but no less audible. “
No joke, folks. Guy comes racing around the corner and sees me standing there, he drops to his knees and starts pissing his suit he’s blubbering so hard. ‘Don’t kill me, I don’t want to die,’ all kinds of sniveling bullshit, over
.”
“So, what’d you do? Over.”
“
Shit, what do you think? Told him I wasn’t. Then Mack put one in his neck and
pow!
I’m tellin’ you, Oswald, you should have seen his eyes. They just about popped before his head did, over
.” A cackle of disembodied laughter echoed across the frequency.
The man called Oswald all but guffawed. Another voice in the tent joined in, albeit a bit less enthusiastically, creating a ghoulish chorus.
“Sounds like you boys had a good day, over.”
“
Hell yeah, we did. These new rifles are just too much fucking fun, over
.”
“Well, just remember who’s spotting for you come bonus time, over,” he joked, eliciting another tinny chuckle from the other end of the line.
“
Will do, Oz, will do. Over
.”
“Hear, hear. Now head on back to the Hub, get yourselves some chow and shuteye.”