52 Lie, Lie, Lie (2/2)
”Uuh..sure,” Marcus follows while taking a good look at where they exited the car lot.
They head toward the entrance of the vehicle depot. Ika is a few meters ahead of Marus when the gated entrance to the underground garage comes within sight.
Sand is flying around at the entrance.The four guards are wearing green scarves over their faces while they sit in lawn chairs several meters away out of range of the storm. Night vision goggles are slid over their eyes. They are armed with rifles, and even while relaxed their hands remain holding their weapons. They are talking amongst themselves and staring into the dark, noisy night.
The metal gate is spiked and wires are twisted around its outer frame. Marcus can see the wires trail along the concrete floor off to the side to a few batteries.
”Stop there,” Ika shouts to Marcus before jogging over to one of the guards.
Marcus adjusts his grip on the bundle and holds his chin up to breath some cleaner, less death smelling, air.
'10 mins, you said?'
AFFIRMATIVE
Ika strides back over from speaking with the guards and motions for Marcus to come forward.
”We'll leave her with these guys. They know what to do,” Ika reaches out and takes the bundle from Marcus.
”Oh...uh...it's not heavy. I can finish carrying...”
”I've got her,” Ika glares up at Marcus before turning and carrying the body over to the guards.
The guards ignore Ika as he walks over to the left of the entrance into the range of the storm. The wind rustles his blonde hair as he walks across to a shadowed corner. He crouches down and places the body gently to the floor. He splays his fingers out on the stained sheet and bows his head.
Marcus walks over to the guards.
He stops behind a wide man with some grey hair peeking out the neck of his scarf, ”How long do you think this will last?”
At first, the man doesn't answer and Marcus thinks he spoke too softly. He opens his mouth to repeat the question when the guard replies, ”No one can say. One day or five.”
Marcus frowns and nods, ”Oh. Okay, I get it. Unpredictable.”
”Yeah,” another guard joins in, ”and even if this were to last a day it might just be a short lull before it picks up again. I hate this weather. I'll never get used to it.”
”Used to be a fair here about this time,” another guard says before turning away from the storm and looking at Marcus.
”A fair? Where?”
”Oh man,” the three other guards groan.
”Used to be a fair just a few blocks from here, and you know that's what this place is named after,” the standing guard motions to the storm outside with his rifle, ”Wallace Allen Rode The Sy-clone.”
”We keep telling you cyclone starts with a ”C”, not an ”S”,” one guard shouts.
”Why the hell would it be named Wallace Allen rode a...Why would the boss name the place after you?”
”I'm a great guard. I've been here since the beginning. At first, there was no name. Then after all the jobs were assigned. The name ”W.A.R.T.S” was announced...that's not a coincidence,” Wallace settles back down onto his lawn chair.
”That's a crap name if ever there was one,” a guard mutters.
Marcus chuckles at the conversation.
”Ask the boss. We're buds. I know how precious I am to him,” Wallace declares with his chin up and crosses his legs.
”Lower your voice, you idiot. He's praying,” a guard shouts at Wallace.
Marcus's smirk fades as he looks over to Ika. The man is walking over to them. His blue scarf is pulled up over his nose.
”Let's go,” Ika's muffled voice says as he walks by the group.
”Uhh,” Marcus waves to the backs of the seated guards and catches up to his guide.
”To the Merchant quarters?” Marcus matches his speed with his guide.
Ika grunts and continues facing forward with his scarf still placed over his nose. Marcus slows down and follows from behind. He turns his head and notes every turn.
The ”Merchants Quarters” within the underground garage is just a few cots in a far corner away from the other dwellers. There is a black sheet hung between two cement beams that marks off the section. Twelve slim cots are settled closely together with a wool blanket dropped on each cot. Six of the twelve beds are occupied.
Ika stops under the black sheet and waves toward the cots, ”Here you are.”
”Uh, where do I—,” Marcus starts but Ika is already stomping off somewhere else. ”Never mind.”
He walks over to a cot near the entrance and picks up the rough wool blanket. When he stretches it out before himself he realizes it will only cover him up to his knees.
”Sigh, of course,” Marcus rolls the blanket into a pillow and puts it at the head of the bed.
He lays down on the cot and ignores the creaking of the springs. He must bend his legs at the knee and turn on his side so his entire body is supported by the bed. It's been a while since he's had to sleep in a bed made for someone a foot shorter than him. Dirt from the bottom of his boots shakes off onto the faded sheets.
He closes his eyes, but his mind continues to work overtime about his current problem. Their current problem.
'How's it look out there? Can you still see her?'
NEGATIVE