In The Shadows

Chapter Twenty Nine

"You're sure you didn't see anything?" I confirmed, adjusting the night vision goggles in my pack.

"Nope, nothing," Chase answered, shaking his head and rubbing his drooping eyes. He was my reflection, drenched in black attire and ready to blend in with the shadow of night. Except, while he was returning from his assignment, I was leaving for it.

"Ready?" Davis asked, his boots thumping across the concrete. He didn't wait for my answer as he opened the van door.

"Good luck." Chase shot me a thumbs up and grinned before grabbing his own gear and heading towards the door, walking as if he had small children attached to his feet, dragging him backwards and slowing him down.

"Get some sleep!" I yelled, and tossed my pack up into the back of the van before hopping in and slamming the doors behind me.

The garage door groaned like tired tree limbs straining against the wind and sunlight flooded the dank room. The van sputtered to life and Davis eased it out onto the driveway leading out of the facility.

"Hey Amber!" Davis shouted from the front, tilting his head towards the back. "Come up here a second!" I stepped over the equipment set up for Davis to be conducting surveillance and hunched down behind the passenger seat.

"What's up?"

"Are you ready for today?" He asked. "All of your gear is ready, you remember your training and everything?"

"All set."

"Good," He nodded confidently. "Until we get there, I want you to review all of your

gathered intelligence, from the maps to the little tips given by the other team members. Got it?"

"Got it." I settled back into my spot, nestled in between my pack and the packet of papers I already knew better than the back of my hand.

By the time I had devoured the entirety of the packet twice, Davis announced, "You have t-minus 10 minutes until we reach the dropoff point." He twisted the volume dial and resumed his low singing to the soft music. I watched for a moment as his thumb tapped against the steering wheel, as if the playful melody had somehow melted away the angry exterior.

"Thanks." I carefully tucked the pages into their folder pockets and slid the folder inside my pack. I rechecked all of my equipment, making sure it was all accounted for and tightly secured. Two times, I untied and retied my shoelaces.

I focused on the miniscule objects like the thread on my pack's black strap. I fiddled with it, letting it spin between my forefinger and thumb. I tugged on the ends of my braids where the curly tips had endured an electric shock, flying in every direction. I closed my eyes and listened to the tires crunching along the rocks, grinding them down to dust. Maybe it was the flurry of nervousness, the prospect of putting my life in danger that made me so aware of every single detail. Or maybe it was the excitement, the familiarity of the sneaking around and living in the background that made my pulse spike. Either way, I wasn't scared. There was no ounce of fear screaming through my blood, making me feel how Mason felt, so desperately wishing I had crawled inside a massive hole to never be seen again. No, I felt like I just drank a cup of Debbie's coffee, the biting flavor that pinched the brain awake, and I was ready to go, go, go.

"We're here," Davis warned. "The empty lot behind the food market."
I rose to my feet, unwavering and steady.

"I'll be here supervising, but this is up to you." He gave me one last nod, quick yet encouraging. He paused before he ended with a smirk. "Good luck, Red."

I grimaced and nodded back, not sure how to react. The nickname was bitter sweet, endearing, yet associated with memories that left my mouth tasting like vomit.

Quietly, I popped the handle of the van door so I could crack the door and sneak a peek outside. But all I could see was dark blue metal. However, my nose received the full attack from the revolting stench wafting up from inside the metal tub. The door creaked when it pushed open to let me slide through, crouching between the van and metal tub. Flies buzzed around, diving from the metal lip into the contents of the tub. I extended my body and peered over the top, it was just a waste bin. Rotten fruit lay abandoned and broken at the bottom, their insides strewn across scattered vegetables and stomach churning meat. I jolted back and hunched down again, disgusted.

It was about a mile from the dropoff to the target location, a mile that winded down town avenues and around park benches. Arriving to the target location undetected would be a challenge, but I was on a time crunch and needed to start moving.

The sun kept its eye on me, watching as I moved around the market, ducking behind stalls and darting from one vendor to the next. The dirt was my only give away, being stubborn enough to leave a photograph of my boot print when I left. I was near a produce stall when I dropped behind a couple of baskets because the vendor ventured too close. She was so close I could hear her breath, the soft pants that sounded like white noise against the onslaught the market brought to the ears. The children crying, whining as they tugged on their parents' clothing. The mothers, with their sharp voices and cool tones. The young adults, with their high pitched voices and sporadic conversations.

The vendor left and I quickly scurried to the next stall, staying for merely a second before I crawled behind a curtain. I was so close, almost nearing the end of the market where I could finally reach the cubical homes and local businesses.

"George!" A vendor called. "George, is that you?"

My heart jumped at the sudden voice. Who was George? Without a word, I bolted

towards a local perfume shop, leaving the market and the fast paced townspeople behind. I flew around the corner of the wall, noticing the employees bustling around the front part of the store. My hands stretched across the brick, scratching my fingertips on the uneven surface.

I slipped around the dumpster that lined the back wall of the shop, slinking in the shadows towards the alleyways and tiptoeing down the paths. Darkness cloaked me, ushering me along without a word. I timed my sprints from one building to the next, crossing the narrow stretch of light when there would be a break in the oblivious crowd of people meandering along the street.

Finally, I leaned my back up against a small clothing store. My chest heaved from not only the exercise by also the exhilaration, pumping my adrenaline and sending it, tumbling head over heels down to my toes and fingers. I adjusted my pack, straightening it before I looked out above a few rusty trashcans.

I could see it.

There it was, sitting dingy and crusty on the border of town. It was the perfect meeting spot. Secluded, unsuspecting, with an abandoned railroad track that lay cracked with red rust.

Courris Station. 

*****

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- Payton :)