Even though I know this could be a possibility, something just doesn’t feel right. Where are all of the footprints leading away from the huts? It rained earlier in the day, a wintry mix that flitted back and forth between true drops and icy pellets. The prints should still be fresh, but I can’t make out a single one.
“I don’t like this. I think we need to find some cover.” I rise onto my toes to see over his shoulder and point to a slanted roofed building less than thirty feet from the armory.
“Over there.” I shout loudly to be heard over a great explosion from the south. I don’t take time to worry about Eamon’s safety or that of my friends as I run. If I do, I will lose any chance of getting my hands on Drakon and all of this effort will be for nothing.
Carleon yanks me to a stop just before I slam into the dilapidated wooden side of the squat building that appears to be abandoned like all the rest. He rises up just enough to peer through the broken window and nods. I catch a glimpse of an oil tanker just on the other side of the wall but don't have time to think about it as Carleon pulls me along behind him.
I follow right on his heels and dive through the door into complete darkness. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. As they do, I begin to see the interior walls have been stacked with interlocking concrete blocks, just like those used on the outer walls, but the roof above is held up with only a few wooden rafters and poorly nailed down shingles. The floor isn’t even a true floor. It is nothing more than packed dirt with a ratty rug tossed over it.
It is crudely formed, like so many of the buildings that Drakon’s men have constructed in this area—temporary shelters, nothing more. I’ve mentioned my concerns to Kyan about this very thing, but each time he brushes me off.
I saw firsthand the skill and precision with which Drakon employed to clear away the City and begin to rebuild. Why be so lax now? It doesn’t make sense.
A sense of dark foreboding begins to sink into the pit of my stomach as I shove the door closed with my boot and breathe heavily. The air within is stale and laden with newly unsettled motes of dust. Two overturned tables line the far wall. Several chairs have been tossed haphazardly about the room with great carelessness. Four steel-framed beds, with covers torn and frayed draping off the sweat-stained, inch-thick mattresses. Papers litter the ground, trampled underfoot as if someone left in a great hurry.
Carleon glances out of the window, his back rigid as he cranes to see in both directions. “I don’t think anyone saw us.”
“That’s because no one is looking for us.” He glances back at me. “Doesn’t that seem a bit odd to you?”
“Well…” He frowns, scratching at the drying flecks of mud on his cheek. “Maybe we are just that sneaky.”
I point in the direction we just came. “I blew a hole in their wall. They had to have heard it, so why has no one come to check it out? Something just isn’t right about this.”
He looks thoughtful for a moment and then glances back at the empty yard once more. “So what do you want to do? Turn back?”
“No. Bring your gun over here.” I call him over from his post at the window. He thumbs the switch of his laser gun and warm green light spills over the dust-slick floor. I try not to breathe too deeply for fear of what might be growing on that rug.
I remove the map from within my jacket and spread it out below me, tracing my finger over the dampened paper. The edges have been rubbed clean, smeared in long, streaking black swatches. I search for any sign of this hut on the map but can find none. “I think we are getting close. The bunker should be about a hundred feet north of here. Can you see anything?”
Twisting his neck, Carleon peers through the opposite window. He sinks back down and shakes his head. “It’s too dark to tell. The clouds have covered the moon again. I can’t see any laser light either.”
I have a bad feeling about this. After that last big explosion, the fighting has mostly died out. That means either our soldiers have penetrated the front gates and are slowly moving toward us or they have lost, and… I force myself not to continue with that line of thinking. Eamon is fine. Nothing will happen to him.
But even I know our chances of winning this battle are slim. I can only pray that Kyan saw an opportunity present itself and he took it.
“What do you think is happening out there?” Carleon asks. My friend’s face is almost completely cloaked in shadow as he powers down his laser and I stuff the map safely back inside my jacket.
“I don’t know.” I crawl on my hands and knees to the nearest window. Broken shards of glass are scattered across the floor before me, creating a tangle of razor-sharp debris. I get as near to the window as I can and peer up into the sky. The clouds hang low and heavy but remain a dull gray. “Whatever has happened can’t be good. We need to move.”