With the bloody business of the bandit behind them, the clan turned their attention to the real reason they had come. In the center of the city, nestled between two low-lying ruined buildings, was a ramp leading downwards to a sealed garage. The gate was thick and heavy, pockmarked by attempts to saw or drill through it over decades, but still intact. A single exposed control panel by the side of the gate offered some hope of opening it, but that hope was tempered by the smell of burnt flesh that still lingered in the air. Dozens had tried to operate the gate over the years, and dozens had died in the attempt.

  Rush stood and stared at the panel. He’d been in this exact same spot once before, watching someone else try to open the gate. His father had tried. His father had failed -and paid the price for it.

  That past tragedy had no doubt extended Rush’s already long observation period. He’d been staring at the access panel in silence for close to four hours. There had been people watching and waiting, at first, but most of them had lost patience and moved on, preferring to scour the city for anything salvageable. Only a handful of spectators still remained -their new ‘friend’ Shinji among them.

  Despite her best efforts, Giza couldn’t help but glance at Shinji from time to time. All he did was sit and watch -never offer advice, never make commentary, he didn’t even stop to look around or pick dirt from under his fingernails, as the other spectators did. Shinji was watching Rush almost as intently as Rush was watching the gate. Giza could not for the life of her figure out why. Rather than complete a triangle of staring, Giza forced herself to stare elsewhere, at something less conspicuous. Still, her eyes wandered back to Shinjo from time to time.

  Across the way, Shinji pretended not to notice those wandering eyes. The attention unnerved him, and he wondered if there might be more to it than just skepticism of the newcomers. He’d caught Rush eyeing him more than once, but that kid stared at everything. Giza was a different case. From everything Liam had said, she was a firebrand, which had benefits and drawbacks. She was skeptical, aggressive, proactive -all good things, when used the right way. But those same qualities could turn again them just as easily.

  Shinji chose to stay the course. He had no reason to believe he’d been made just yet, and trying to evade attention was the best way to draw it. He kept to his seat and kept watching Rush. It had been an illuminating day already -Rush had barely flinched at a man getting his throat cut. That was good, but that had been a stranger. Shinji wanted to see how he handled the death of someone close to him -even if it was someone who’d died years ago.

  He had, admittedly, been expecting more than a four hour staring contest. Or a five hour staring contest. Or a six hour-

  “Are you still fucking here?”

  The Old Bastard limped past the garage entrance and made his displeasure known in his usual fashion: loudly. As soon as he was done shouting, he walked up to Rush and poked him in the shoulder.

  “Are you just being lazy, or did that suit kill your brain?”

  “I’m thinking,” Rush said. He didn’t even blink as the Old Bastard continued to prod.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Well stop thinking and start doing,” Old Bastard said. “Or at least admit you’re not up to it so we can move on.”

  He got sick of poking Rush and shuffled off to find a seat. That didn’t stop the verbal abuse, though.

  “Not a damn thing worth the trouble in this city,” Old Bastard grumbled. “Get to work and get this over with, scraphead.”

  Rush ignored the insults. Giza didn’t.

  “Shut up,” she snapped. “You think insulting him is making this go any faster?”

  “Worth a try,” Old Bastard said.

  Giza huffed in frustration and got out of her seat. She placed herself between Rush and the Old Bastard and took a seat. She joined Rush in his quiet observation of the access panel for a few minutes.

  “Tell him to get working,” Old Bastard snapped.

  “I told you to shut up!”

  Not that she expected the Bastard to listen to anyone. She really didn’t know why they still kept him around.

  “Don’t let them bother you, Rush,” Giza said.

  “He doesn’t.”

  “Oh. Good,” Giza said. “So. Not to bother you, but...how’s it going?”

  “I think I’m almost done,” Rush said. He leaned a little closer towards the panel, putting his face only a few inches away from it. “If I’m right, I need to decouple this sensor at the same time I cut the power to avoid the security system triggering.”

  “Mm-hmm, sounds right,” Giza said, nodding along as if she knew what he was talking about. “And...you think it’s going to be safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you’re worried, you can always tell the Old Bastard to do it,” Giza said, loud enough for the Bastard to hear.

  “No, he wouldn’t be able to do it fast enough.”

  “Okay. Just don’t push yourself to do anything you don’t feel safe doin- Rush!”

  Giza didn’t even get to finish her warning before Rush reached forward and grabbed two different components of the complex mechanism. The ancient machine whirred to life, preparing to deliver a lethal countermeasure to the would-be interloper. Rush pulled two of the components loose, carefully grabbed a wire and tugged it out of place, then hastily flipped a switch on the far side of the console.

  The gate made a clicking noise as something inside it unlatched. Rush drew his hands back and appraised his work as the ancient seal broke open and began to rise. The groaning mechanism shuddered, and a cold gasp of stagnant air escaped the garage as the door opened for the first time in centuries.

  “About time!”

  “The word you’re looking for is ‘thank you’,” Giza snapped.

  “The words I’m looking for is ‘get the hell away so you don’t get killed by toxic gas’,” Old Bastard snapped. Giza grabbed Rush and headed a few steps back. That was why they kept the Bastard around. He’d been around long enough to know that some sealed chambers with heavy machinery or liquid fuels inside ended up filled with toxins. The garage needed some time for air to circulate before anyone went past the now-open gate. That work was not Giza’s concern right now.

  “Rush, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Rush said, as blank as ever.

  “Okay, and how do you feel?”

  “I said I’m fine.”

  “I meant, like, emotionally,” Giza clarified. “Everything with your dad, and this door.”

  “I’m fine,” Rush repeated, as blank as before. “He made a mistake. I didn’t.”

  “I just want to be sure…”

  “I’m sure,” Rush said. “Can I go? I’d like to get something to eat.”

  “I- yeah. Go ahead,” Giza said. “I’ll tell my dad and everyone. We’ll get started. You go ahead and take your break. You earned it.”

  Rush headed off to find some food. Giza watched him go, and didn’t see any change in his stride, any clue of what he might be feeling. After checking on Rush, Giza glanced to the side, towards Shinji. He seemed like he was in a good mood. Giza couldn’t imagine why.

  Meanwhile, Rush found his food and his allotment of water. He examined his meager meal and thought briefly of the bandit prisoner who had died wanting for a meal and a drink. For the first time, Rushmore wondered if his father had been hungry when he died, and if so, if the electrocution had left him any time to contemplate that hunger.

  Rush stopped thinking about those things and ate. The ration bars were always flavorless, but for some reason, as he ate, Rush could taste the tang of wet iron and salt. The flavor of blood, sweat, and tears.