HOTSPOT

1

Corrugated sheet metal snags at my worn belt loops as I slide beneath it, wriggling underneath chain-link and a precariously-placed set of wooden planks wrapped in barbed wire. I grunt, tugging until I pull free with a tearing of fabric.

Fuck. Clothes are hard enough to come by these days without me tearing them all whenever I head out on my little escapades.

I pull myself to my feet and push the sheet of metal back in place, covering the Teddy-sized hole in our cobbled-together wall that I've been using to avoid getting questioned by the guards posted at the gate.

The moon shines dully from behind a layer of clouds, dim in comparison to the floodlights set up on the asphalt. They light up the corners of the multistory car park in bright white, reflecting off of peeling billboards and traffic cones. Retrieving my backpack and bolt-action rifle, both tossed over the fence so I could wriggle underneath, I head towards it, slipping underneath the shadows of the wide entrance. The inside of the garage is dark and unlit—the first floor is only used for storage, filled with large, blanket-draped crates that sit hunched against the walls like sleeping beasts. I head up to the next level, where the moonlight from outside barely illuminated along the edges of pop-up tents and lean-tos made from blankets. It's silent here too, most everyone long since asleep.

I head towards my tent, moving softly along the concrete floor. The air smells of old gasoline and rusting metal.

"Teddy."

I flinch.

Then I sigh and turn around.

"Hey, babe."

Ama walks towards me, dressed in a hoodie, dark hair ruffled and loose around her shoulders. She's shorter than me, with wide, dark doe's eyes framed by thick lashes. Now, in the darkness of the parking garage, they're obscured by shadows. Her heavy brows are furrowed with irritation.

Oops.

"I, uh, thought you went to bed already," I say.

"I did. So did you, if I'm remembering correctly."

"I just slipped out to use the washroom."

"So that's why you've got your bag and your rifle?"

"You never know when you might run into mutated."

I'm not convincing her. There's no way for me to get out of this one.

She steps closer to me.

"You shouldn't run into mutated—not inside the walls, at least." She quirks an eyebrow, unravelling my lies with her gaze alone. I can feel my resolve crumpling. She moves closer yet, reaching for the belt loop I tore on the fence, rubbing the frayed edge. "You ripped your jeans. You don't use the gate, do you?"

"No. I use this hole I found near the north side."

"Then we need to fix that. Mutated could get in without us noticing."

"Nah. I cover it up when I come back."

She leans back, a soft sigh fluttering from her lips. Guilt surges in my chest.

I lean towards her, wrapping my hands around her shoulders.

"Ama. I'm fine."

"You know we try to discourage people from leaving on their own. Especially at night, without telling anyone." She folds her arms, not reacting to my touch.

Shit. She's pretty upset.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

"But you're gonna do it again anyways."