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AUBREY TUGGED THE HOOD of her jacket forward, thankful for the light drizzle of rain. Bad weather gives me an excuse to cover up. Plus, there’s less people on the street to notice me.
She was grateful Garr had included her on his regular rounds in the Mission’s neighborhood. She knew exactly where to find the drop-box. She was careful to make the customary stop at the market, browsing and chatting with the merchants before resuming her casual route.
The Mission, a block further and across the street, appeared gray and lifeless in the rain. The usual crowd of regulars would be indoors today, seeking shelter from the cold and damp.
Doc wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Aubrey visiting the drop-box alone. But Aubrey had argued, successfully, that it would be unwise to break their routine. Doc relented, albeit with obvious reluctance.
Garr has a bad cough. Aubrey rehearsed her lie, in case anyone asked. One of the shopkeepers, perhaps. We’re going to make some hot soup for him.
They were always careful to follow the same routine. Garr’s patient coaching came to mind. You never know who might be watching, Trackers look normal unless they’re hunting.
Aubrey quickened her pace, the bag of vegetables she’d purchased weighing her arm down. The dreary weather painted the neighborhood with a stifling, claustrophobic hue. She’d done this trip many times, but this was her first solo.
There weren’t many people out and about, but Aubrey watched diligently for any betraying signs. The Tracker raid had occurred more than twelve blocks from her position, but her nerves were still on edge.
The rain was beginning to seep through the fabric of her hood, and her bangs were plastered to her forehead. Aubrey brushed the hair away from her face with an impatient hand.
She cupped her scarred hand above her eyes, shivering. Her grip on the produce bag tightened, and she slipped into the alley, darting toward the boarded-up doorway.
She ducked beneath the overhang as if seeking refuge from the drizzle. Hidden in plain sight. She mouthed the words in silence. Just a little rest, out of the rain.
She crouched down, balancing on the balls of her feet, and placed her bag of produce on the slick pavement.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a dark figure moving at the end of the alley. She held her breath, mindful to lower her gaze so she wasn’t staring. Easy, Aubs. Don’t draw attention, don’t stand out.
The figure shuffled out of sight, and the patter of rain obscured any sound of his or her footsteps. The Mission was a block further—was that the anonymous walker’s goal?
Aubrey waited, counting under her breath as she’d been taught. The rain drizzled on, droning on the uneven paving stones. She remained motionless, until she was confident the other was a safe distance away.
She edged the brick out, her action shielded from view by the deep entryway. As she expected, a small, leather-wrapped package lay nestled inside. See, Doc? This trip was necessary.
She extracted the package and maneuvered the brick back into place, wiping away any trace of her actions.
The package was thinner than usual, and Aubrey hesitated, doubt eroding her earlier confidence. What if it’s empty? Doc won’t be impressed if I made this trip for nothing.
She ignored the inner clamor of warning, disregarded their usual protocol, and opened the package right then and there.
There was a single sheaf of parchment inside, its lettering bold and ragged. The message was short and blunt. Aubrey felt light-headed as the words sunk in. She swallowed convulsively, sealed the package and stuffed it into her jacket for safe-keeping.
She glanced down the alley, half-expecting to find the shuffling figure had returned. No, her luck continued to hold—the alley remained empty. She was alone, at least for now.
She leaned against the doorframe, feigning nonchalance for a few seconds longer, and then set off at a brisk pace to the opposite end of the alley. Walk, Aubs, don’t run.
She risked a quick, furtive look in both directions before rounding the corner. The few pedestrians ignored her as they scuttled across the street to various dry destinations.
Aubrey kept walking, pulling her hood forward to hide the number of times she gauged her surroundings.
Is that thunder? Aubrey slowed to listen, her nerves frayed. No, the rumbling noise wasn’t natural. It was mechanical—the roar of a heavy engine. And it was drawing closer. Hoarders.
Aubrey broke into a run, splashing through the puddles.
The sound of the vehicle reverberated off the dilapidated buildings. Aubrey—all her survival instincts in play—dodged into another alley, flattening herself against the rough brick wall. She cringed, wondering if she was the Hoarders’ target.
The bulky vehicle, its windows black and opaque, roared past her, its over-sized tires splashing gouts of water over the sidewalk. The water splattered not far from her feet.
Aubrey counted three—no, four—Hoarder vehicles in an ominous convoy, each vehicle identical to the one preceding it. Their occupants remained anonymous, hidden behind the black-tinted windows.
The Hoarders careened around a corner some six blocks away, accelerating toward their unknown destination. Aubrey listened with bated breath, frozen in place, until the guttural engine noise faded.
A cold rivulet of water roused her, snaking down her spine as her jacket succumbed to the rain. She stepped timidly out of the alley, still unsure if she was the object of pursuit.
Only the steady drone of rain greeted her. She was alone.
She tightened her grip on the produce bag, relieved she hadn’t dropped it in her hasty retreat. After one last stealthy look, she slipped out of the alley, intent on the hidden access for their Hub.
She took her time, mindful to watch her back trail.