Outside, an indigo blue eye scanned upwards at the waning light of setting twin suns. Tattered boots scraped to a stop, leaving a long coated form bathed in the coolness of a shadow. The eye lowered slowly, staring past a smoky wisp and at the tilted, half hanging sign. Blinking once, he shifted the shotgun that was draped over his shoulder. In front of him stood a locked gate, chained about steel and metal poles. A tug was given, more out of a test than an attempt to pull off the lock. The lit cigarette in his mouth was shifted from one corner to the other and the shotgun was pulled from its shoulder perch, and with a click its magazine was popped.His one good eye checked the two round cartridges and then *flip* it was flipped back. Standing to the side, he turned his head and pointed the shotgun at the lock. The shot was loud, echoing off the walls of rubble buildings. In a blink, the shotgun was set back to his shoulder. A hand went to draw the cigarette from his lips, a smoky breath then seeped from them. Once more he looked up at the sign before slipping into the darkened hallway beyond. The sign read...Sub-Tunnel 2A, NRH... Leaving the sinking suns behind as well as the dying echoes, tattered boots chimed their own echo. His gait carried him further underground, and he felt the decline more than he saw it. His coat wafted open with the brush of his hand and the shotgun was slid easily back into it’s hip sheath, soon to be hidden by the long canvas coat. A left turn taken, boots scraped an echo in their wake, until he came to a stop in the eerie darkness.
He stood. His hands rifled for a match. The match was struck and the flame flickered to life, casting a low to the gloom. Long shadows danced within the life of the gyrating flame. It lit up an open expanse of what was once a subway platform. He suddenly stopped at the sound of a muffled explosion above ground. To a knee he went, the match’s life snuffed out with a sudden toss to the ground. He slipped his hands inside his coat and he pasted himself against the wall. A few moments of silence slipped by, then he shifted, blowing away a small trickle of sweat that neared the corner of his mouth. Another few moments of silence, making sure the explosion had stopped then he continued onward. Dropping down onto torn up, unused tracks, he carefully picked his way into deeper darkness. With a sniff, he suddenly stopped, his good eye going to a narrow slit. In the distance he thought he caught a flicker of light. As if automatically, he went to a small opening to which he could peer through. A tinny noise could be heard through the half rusted grate and he scanned the area beyond. An arched brow was his silent reaction to the scene. One person, running about, back and forth, like he had ants in his pants nodding and talking to some kind of device that sat on a make shift table. Zac watched with silent intent as the wild haired teen went through his antics. Suddenly the teen stopped his nodding and turned to look right at the grate.
Blinking his one eye shut, Zac shifted back and pressed himself to the wall. Then the teen began to giggle and bounce about, tugging on a tube that was tied on his arm. With one eye he watched as the wild haired teen scampered out of sight. Still, he watched for a few seconds, then decided on a quick get away. Retracing his steps, he found the entrance he had made, then slipped back, again into the dark of night.
At a sound from behind, off in the distance, he turned. A sudden flicker of flame lit up a side street alley. An eye flitted to the main street. He heard footsteps and hushed voices. He tilted his head and the unlit cig to the flame, to let the tobacco crackle to a red ember. He shifted his lean and watched as two forms skulked by. With a blink he suddenly noted the weapon raised in threat to one of the forms. The thin, cold reflection of the moon bounced off the steel. He blew a thin stream of smoke as he watched the two; then, inching to the entrance of the alley only after they skulked by. Little rings of smoke puffing upwards and outwards. He saw one form slump. He twitched. but remained still. He pulled the cig from his mouth and let it dangle as he watched the forms move away one being carried by the other.
The night swallowed him whole.