“Possibly. Best thing is to take cover, let them pass. Watch them. No point wasting ammo on a firefight that might bring more forces down on us from who knows where.”
The lobby of the old apartment building sheltered them well from the path through the old street, as the pitted and scarred glass was opaque, and the most accessible path through the forest undergrowth was some yards from the glass doors. Still, Ryan was concerned that the oncoming party of hunters may spot signs of the companions passing, so he ordered the companions onto the second floor of the building, going ahead to check that the stairwell was safe, and that enough of the floor on the first level was intact and stable enough to support their weight. The windows on that level were blown out, but the foliage entwined around the building was thick enough to provide them with cover as they observed the passing hunting party.
Jak slipped out the front of the building to check for any obvious signs of their passing and entering the ruined building. He wouldn’t have time to completely cover their tracks, but as this was a war party returning home, he felt fairly sure that covering the most visible signs of progress would suffice.
While Jak did that, Ryan took the old stairwell beside the apartment building’s elevators. It was sturdy, and still firm beneath his testing feet. Krysty and Dean followed, with Mildred, Doc and J.B. at the rear.
On the first floor, there were five apartments. In their time, they were fairly spacious and comfortable. But now they were covered in creeping vines, powdered with mildew and fungi spores, the fabrics and wooden furniture having long since capitulated to the humidity and fungi. Only the metal frames and remnants of old tech such as long since defunct TVs and stereos stood relatively unscathed. They were strange reminders of the days before skydark in an environment nature was otherwise successfully reclaiming.
Ryan opened each door carefully, partly in case there was some hidden intruder, either mutie, man or animal, or in case the floor gave way beneath him.
“These old buildings were made with concrete floors, so we should be all right,” Mildred remarked, “unlike those poor bastards.” And she gestured toward the remains of two people that were lying half on the rotting bed, and half on the floor of one apartment room.
Ryan was looking for an apartment whose rooms overlooked the only route the hunting party could take through the undergrowth. It was important that the rooms be one apartment, and therefore adjoining. He was unwilling to spread his forces over two apartments, with a solid unbroken wall between them and no easy means of communication should a firefight break out.
The third one they came to was the one they wanted. What had once been a spare and stylishly furnished lounge was linked to a bedroom with a sunken pit for the long since rotted bed by a sliding door that splintered almost to powder with just the slightest pressure from J.B., the runners having long since seized up with rust and the clogging spore of fungi. A creeping vine had encroached along the door, and as the splintered remains ripped the long stems, they shuddered and coiled as though in pain.
Krysty also shuddered. “I’ll be glad when we’re through this jungle. Sentient plant life is the worst kind of mutie I can imagine,” she almost whispered.
Ryan and Dean had meanwhile been checking out the windows, and their position onto the old road beneath. Ryan checked the large and wide bay window area in the lounge, while Dean took the deeper bedroom window, which had less width.
“Listen,” he said as he joined the party in the lounge, “they’re getting near. Weird noise,” he added, looking bemused. “You’d think they want to be heard.”
The companions maintained silence, listening to the distant chant, the higher, keening voices carrying farther through the forest. Suddenly, J.B. whirled, the Uzi falling easily to hand and into a firing position.
The safety was off, and his finger was pressuring the trigger, on a hair.
Jak appeared in the doorway. “Me,” he said simply. “Covered tracks.”