Across the Wildlands (Book One: The Wildlands)

Episode Three: The Patrol

In the streets of Marksberg, a dozen Patrolmen marched. Tightly knit and almost robotic, they filed toward the main apartment building. They were only a few blocks away. Their boots and armor announced their approach in a rhythm that would send a cold chill up anyone's spine, and the lightning flashed over their black suits as if casting a spotlight over their procession.

Alex walked over to Cicero and followed his gaze down to the street.

"I don't like the looks of this patrol. Go get changed and make sure your go-bag is ready, just in case. We need to speak with Rollo and Ace, and see if they have any thoughts on what we should do."

"The Achilles couldn't possibly know we're here," Alex said. "Maybe they're just increasing security."

Cicero shook his head. "That many Patrolmen shouldn't be this far in the city unless something's changed. They don't group their resources together unless they have to. So go get dressed, just in case we have to move our timeline up."

"Uh-huh." Alex turned and ran back to her room, grabbing a maroon shirt and a pair of pants with little thought. Desperately she changed her clothes, trying her best to maintain an even composure.

Once dressed, she looked around the room she'd called home for longer than most places. There wasn't a single item that held any value to her, but something familiar was what she would miss the most. Anything beyond the threshold to their apartment would be unknown territory. And she hated the unknown.

Assuming Cicero's gut-feeling was right, she might not return to her room ever again.

The go-bag in her closet, packed for months, had been prepared with extra clothes and any supplies she might need. Alex grabbed it and slung it over her shoulders, tightening the straps so it wouldn't shift around. She ran out into the living room and put on the new shoes Cicero had gotten her. Her 'old reliables' wouldn't last over ten steps outside.

Cicero was prepped and ready by the door. He checked the ammo loaded in a pistol before tucking it into the waist of his jeans and hiding it under his shirt.

"How are you so calm right now?" Alex panicked as she tied her shoes, the sweat on her hands making her fumble.

Who the hell sweats through their fingertips?

She put her hair up hastily in a ponytail, ignoring the fact her once carefully managed, brunette hair was fraying and dying at the ends. In an instant, Alex joined Cicero at the door.

"We don't even know if they're just increasing their security patrol, like you mentioned. Let's talk to Rollo first and see what she thinks."

"Your bedside manner fails to make me feel any better," Alex muttered.

Cicero waved his hand in front of a small, black square, and the door whisked to the side with a cold gust of air. The hallway outside was quiet. People were tucked in their rooms, no doubt enjoying the air conditioning and entertainment from their televisions. Delving into an escape from the dreary world outside.

The two of them hustled, trying to remain inconspicuous in case anyone emerged from their rooms. They headed for the stairs—it would be a slower but safer route for them. A staircase allowed them more points of exit, just in case.

Alex sighed, definitely not looking forward to the long descent of thirty flights of stairs.

Another gust of air and they were in the stairwell. It smelled of concrete and mothballs, as if the door hadn't been propped open in ages. People preferred to use the elevator, obviously.