Forget this. Forget all of this. You need cover, night is falling, and you’re in the wrong end of the neighborhood. For another ten minutes or so you search over shanties, wrecks, garages… finally, it seems as though you’ve found your way across an empty property. Peeking though the windows, the house is good and empty, but there is furniture… someone might live here. The garage, however, clearly hasn’t been used in years. Peering in one side, you see a car with no glass, primer coating, broken lights, sans doors. No one’s looking in here anytime soon.
Just for now – it seems like the best place. You check for people watching – no one – and creep in the unlocked side door, shutting it slowly, silently. Taking a seat out of line of sight from the windows, you set your weapon aside – unfolding the canvas just in case – and lean back to rest your head. Think.
Minutes pass. Maybe an hour or so; you lose track, and the sun has gone down. Only the streetlamp light peeks now through translucent, rippled glass along the garage door… finally, it occurs to you that while superficially stripped, the car might still be working… you hop into the front seat. This thing must be forty years old! Glancing it over, you shake your head – no keys. Screw it. Nothing better to do until daylight – crouching in the dim light, you throw the hood. Six cylinders… coil wire near the center… glancing about, there’s ample junk piled around the garage, including an old toolbox. Easy as pie, you think, recalling the past two years. You never thought you’d have to know anything about cars, but apparently it’s coming in handy already. Yanking a length of thick old copper wire from the toolbox, you strip free the insulation all the way through the center, leaving only two rubber handgrips, and run the exposed line from the positive side of the battery to the coil wire.
Success! You hear a repeated beeping coming from inside the vehicle… door ajar! Back to the toolbox, you pull a long screwdriver and, holding it by the handle, follow the positive wire until you come across the starter solenoid… ever so carefully, you cross the starter and battery wire terminals, then toss the screwdriver to the passenger seat through the nonexistent windshield, before taking a seat and tuning the radio.
*BRREEEooorrroooEEEERRROOOooo… ooo… oooooeee… ”passenger…” eeeroooEEE… “shot…” reeeEEE…*
Finally, you get something clearer.
“Police are currently sweeping the city borders, but teams are beginning to patrol the slums as well. All citizens are asked to cooperate at this time; please remember that this subvert is believed to be armed and dangerous… recapping the events of the last half-hour, police chief Gorbec has announced that of the survivors, one has been captured, while two others, apparently subordinates, fought back. In the face of heavy gunfire, officers valiantly subdued the spy lackeys and, having determined the outfit leader, subsequently vored the two as per standard retaliation for the crime of assault on an officer of the law. The names of the men have not yet been released, however, it is believed that a fourth agent…” You promptly turn down the radio… shadows – not just shadows, but CLOSE figures have just crossed your only light source – there’s grumbling outside.
“I hate the fucking slums. And it’s not like the council can’t afford to clean this dump up.” One groans.
“They’re actually talking about a resolution about that… but it’ll only pass when this project of theirs is finished… I hear rumor that this time next month, every human will have undergone the change – like it or not.”
“Well, hey, it’s better for them anyway. At least the government will kick in the health care bonuses… my dental bills are through the roof.”
“No kidding… save it though. We gotta find this Darwin guy, or girl, or whatever… this place is next.” The voices are right… outside… the garage door…
