Chapter 18: Vigilance
Malcolm didn't know what to do. He sat in a chair a few floors up, in a tiny slums apartment building, watching out a window. He was inside what was considered Miguel's territory, not that he knew it.
He found the corner apartment, which provided a nice long view down a couple of streets. Watching for a few hours, he saw various people walk back and forth, patrolling. They always carried weapons.
He guessed, and hoped, that it was somewhere near where Kaylee had been brought. He observed, trying to get a sense of the pattern of guards. He didn't really notice it, but his cognitive faculties had been steadily improving. He experienced fewer juxtaposed and jumbled memory flashes. His actions were more thought out and planned, less instinctual and improvised.
As was the case with his current observation. Anyone who happened to look up may have been fairly unnerved to see something that appeared to be a pair of slanted glowing eyes staring down at them, but he wasn't worried about it. While he watched them pass, he saw very few people looking around or paying any attention to anything at all.
Although he didn't know it, these people, given the light patrol duty, rarely encountered anything. The people who roamed further out were the ones who had to keep a careful watch. Still, very few observers could compete against his stealth and swiftness. He had traveled through the streets to the building in which he sat, passing within feet of them. They didn't notice.
More figures were coming down the street. His eyes narrowed as they closed in. He recognized them as Kaylee's captors. They walked in total silence, appearing very nervous and uncomfortable.
As Malcolm watched them, he recalled the feeling of automatic weapons fire tearing through his body, the burning, shredding pain. One of his hands gripped the windowsill, fury seeping through him. He remembered having to flee when they dragged Kaylee away, and his anger flared a hot white.
A moment later, Malcolm was slightly surprised to notice that he was in a standing position, holding his chair in both hands. The two men were now in the intersection, approaching the corner where Malcolm's building stood.
Their heads jerked up, eyes wide with startled fright and assault rifles aiming as they heard the sound of glass breaking above them. Red looked over at his companion, "What was…"
He didn't finish his sentence as a wooden chair crashed into the ground inches away, splintering into kindling. The pair screamed simultaneously and fired their weapons in no particular direction. The chatter of automatic weapons fire filled the air for a moment, and the two men backed away, still firing the occasional burst into the darkness. They turned back the way they came and fled.
As they passed out of sight some distance away, Malcolm's anger abated. He leaned up against the wall, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself. The rational portion of his mind struggled to assert itself, but the survival and instinct portion demanded further fight response.
He had gained enough control over his own behavior to understand that charging in blindly, despite his resilience to harm, would not likely result in any success. A few more deep breaths allowed his rationality to resume control. He walked out of the room, and a few minutes later he emerged, crouching low, in the narrow street once more. He decided that little more could be accomplished by mere observation. Both ration and instinct agreed.
He dove into the shadows, having spotted someone coming down the road towards him. Sidling along the brick wall, he cut around a corner to an alley and took refuge behind a dumpster. He peered around the corner, waiting for the man to go past.
As the man crossed in front of the alleyway, Malcolm heard the faint fup! of violently displaced air. The man's body convulsed and a spray of red burst from his back; the weapon he carried fell from limp fingers. Mouth agape, the guard made a slow turn, and Malcolm could see a small hole in his chest. The man looked down at his wound. Almost disbelieving and likely in shock, he reached and touched the injury. He held his bloody fingers up to his face.
The same fup! noise was heard, and the next bullet passed through the guard's head. He crumpled.
Malcolm remained where he was. He could hear the sounds of a couple of people hurriedly running, coming close and obviously trying to keep their movement quiet. He saw two figures pause in front of the alleyway. They were wearing all-dark camouflage colors, and several of them wore an odd face apparatus. Some half-functioning portion of Malcolm's memory muttered, 'gas mask,' but he couldn't quite pin down anything else besides the words. The other men paused long enough to drag the body over to the dumpster. He pressed himself into the wall and tilted his head down, hoping they didn't notice him.
He heard a clang and felt a slight vibration as the body thudded against the inside of the dumpster. He heard the men moving away, out of the alley and down the street where he intended to travel. When Malcolm looked up; all of the people were already gone. The only sign of their presence was the splatter of blood and human tissue.
Malcolm stood up, but he dropped back to his hiding place when he heard a radio crackle, very close by. He waited for what felt like hours, and as he did, two men appeared, walking slowly and silently by the alley entrance. They were followed by two more, and two more, and so on. A long column of soldiers passed by as Malcolm watched from the shadows. There was something about them that he didn't like, and he gave a slight, involuntary growl.
One of the soldiers heard the sound and shot a glance towards its source. He squinted into the darkness, a chill running down his spine as he thought he saw a pair of eyes staring back at him. He blinked a few times, shaking his head, and the eyes disappeared.
Malcolm was already running silently down the alley in the other direction, scaling a fence before ducking around a corner. The scout force that had eliminated the patrolling soldier was ahead by a good distance, and they and the larger group appeared to be going in the same direction as Kaylee was taken. Despite the obvious danger and what seemed like inevitable violent confrontation, he decided to continue to try and find her. As he ran, his rational mind wondered what he was going to do when he got there.
Uprising Page 26