The Everlasting, Chapter 8
Title: The Everlasting
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter, NC-17 for the story
Spoilers: Up through end of season 2
Pairing: Alec Hardison/ Eliot Spencer
Warnings: None for *this* chapter...
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Story starts here.
Chapter 8
There was a fire somewhere in the western part of town, he could see it from the bank's fire escape, but it wasn't the first one Alec had seen, and he had more pressing issues to deal with.
For one, power. He'd run back to the post office to retrieve some of the smaller solar panels. Not enough for heat, not enough to survive the winter, but they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. Maybe see about moving into the school, if it came down to it. And hell, if Eliot wasn't around- because let's face it, nothing's set in stone- maybe he could hold out longer.
It was as depressing a thought as he could imagine.
Alec had learned how to not miss a lot of things. He didn't know how to miss thinking of his own survival in terms of as long as somebody else isn't there. Wanting to shoot him. Wanting to stay.
It was getting late, not dark yet, but close, and he had to stop thinking about it. He hadn't always been this superstitious.
He finished attaching the panel to the bracket and decided that he could work on getting it online later, and was turning to head back inside when he heard a gunshot, loud, rattling through the alleyway below.
Nothing at all, he told himself, having to look twice to confirm. You're hearing things, man.
He shut the door quietly behind him, intent on getting something on for dinner, wondering when Eliot was going to get back. Found himself wandering through the building, checking to make sure the four guns he'd hidden were where they were supposed to be.
They were right where he'd put them. Everything in its place. Situation normal, all fucked up.
---
All that Alec really knew about Jay was that he was a soldier for the Kings, and that Parker seemed to be far less creeped out by him than she probably should have been. He was a big guy, all muscle, and his friendliness had an underlying business first vein to it that was best left unexplored.
"Yo Hardison!" he shouted up at the building, waving when he saw Alec in the window. "We need to talk."
Hardison sighed. He was being called out. "Yeah, alright. Hang on."
Once upon a time, the Kings had been on a list, pulled from the BPD's gang activity tracking system and carefully monitored. And while they hadn't been at the top of said list, hadn't quite joined the ranks of those cases that Hardison brought to Nate's attention for immediate action, they'd been slowly making their way up the charts.
A few days before the pulse hit, they'd made it to seven, literally, with a bullet.
Alec couldn't remember the details, any more. Something about a single mom, caught in the crossfire. It had made the news. A week later, there were too many shootings and too many bodies to cover, and no way to publish them.
The mom's kids- one was a toddler, Alec thought- were only set apart by their tragedy for a day or two at most. A few days later, most of the rest of the country joined them. But he doubted it helped, if they were even alive to care.
As Alec came down the back way and cut up through the alley, not wanting to show off the main entrance, he managed to put on a friendly face. Much as he didn't like it, the Kings were the ones keeping the blocks around the school clear. Never mind the fact that a year ago, the school had been struggling to keep clear of them.
The moment he was out the front door, Jay was saying, "Parker told me about the move, said I could find you here."
"Figured as much, Alec nodded, scratching at his neck. "So what's up?"
"That's what I came to find out," Jay looked at him, hard now. His smirk had Alec wondering how many guns were trained on him from windows across the street. "Lot of folks been taken by surprise, hearing about the merger. So, man, no disrespect, but where you standin', these days?"
"Same place I've been standing," Alec reasoned, hackles up, wishing for the hundredth time that there were phone records he could check, emails he could lift, or video footage he could scan. Jay not trusting him wasn't reason enough for him to trust Jay. For all his talk, and for all Alec knew, Jay could be working for Cornelius.
"Look, man," he continued, "they're stepping up their game. Had to happen some time. I play along, nobody gets hurt." No need to tell him about trying to monitor the information flow, trying to do recon on the sly.
Jay nodded, as if he'd expected that answer. "You sure you weren't looking to get adopted?"
Seriously? Of all the- "Yo man, if you were gonna go buying your way in, would you wait for them to show up and point guns in your face, or would you go to them first? Believe me, if I'd wanted them all up in my business, I could've gone in with supply routes. Sentry locations. Storage facilities and backup sites. A detailed chart of who, exactly, they'd need to take in, and who they'd need to take out if they wanted to control the entire damned neighborhood."
Jay raised his hands, glancing sideways down the street, but Alec was on a roll. "And you and I both know that if I'd made that deal with them, I'd be sitting a lot prettier by now, and you and your crew would probably be under siege. Yet they were able to spare you to come hassle me, which says to me that either you're useless in a fight, or there's not anything going down."
His argument, finally completed, didn't have the effect he'd been hoping for, as Jay rolled his neck, probably signaling the others. He smiled, though, his voice easy, when he said, "You got a mouth on you, for a mailman."
Alec tried, he really did, but he couldn't quite stop himself from rolling his eyes. "That's good, comin' from an errand boy. Now check it. Ain't gonna lie to you. Only reason I'm standing here in the middle of the street explaining myself is because Parker vouched for you. She gets word that you're being a nuisance, though, what do you think will happen to that nice little retainer she's payin' y'all for services rendered? It's not like there aren't other hungry people willing to take the job."
"That depends on what she hears, don't it? For all she knows, you were dead when we got here."
Alec shifted, slightly. The gun was in his waistband, just in case. Unless there were some clean shooters running with Jay, he'd be able to do some damage of his own.
"Suppose that depends on who's doin' the telling." At that, Jay glanced up towards the bank's windows, searching, and just about to realize Alec's bluff. He had to get Jay's attention back on him, so he stepped forward, further into Jay's space.
"What? You think I come out here to chat with a known banger without backup of my own?" Alec forced himself to smirk as he dropped his voice threateningly. "This is gonna go down one of two ways. You shoot me, I shoot whoever I can, and in a few hours, Parker's going to find out. She's going to have words with your boss, and you know damned well you don't have the rank to be calling plays. Or, you can walk away right now, report back that everything's under control, and get a pat on the head for doin' your job."
Alec stared Jay down, waiting. "So what's it gonna be?"
---
Eliot took the back stairs two at a time, surprised to find so many open doors between their place and the street. Through one of the windows, he could hear voices outside.
Alec was arguing with some guy, and from the looks of it, it had been going on for some times. He backed into the shadows and scanned the street and the buildings across the way.
He saw three men with guns, and really, he wasn't thrilled about it. He was even less thrilled when he heard the cocky tone Alec was using.
So what's it gonna be? Eliot repeated Alec's words in his head. Yeah. Let's play a game of annoy the gang bangers.
The alley had been clear when he'd arrived, but there was no way to get across the street in any quick fashion without being seen. There was no way of knowing who these guys were, or if they'd shoot him on sight, or worse, spook, and shoot everywhere, blind.
Glancing out again, though, he could see the other man shaking his head and stepping back with palms raised. "Yo, man. We're cool. Just following orders, you know?"
"All right then," Alec said, his stance becoming less rigid. "You tell your boss everything's cool, and it goes no further than this, you feel me?"
The guy nodded, turning towards the building across the street and jerking his head. Alec, already, was heading for the alley, and a few moments later, Eliot could hear his tread on the stairs, and he went to meet him by the office door.
"What the hell was that about?" Eliot asked, crossing his arms.
Alec started, stopping short and blinking. "Nothing. Just a little misunderstanding, is all. When'd you get back?"
"Early enough to see what looked like you threatening a gang banger with no backup."
"Yeah, well. You were here. I had backup," he muttered tiredly, pushing past him and heading towards the office's kitchenette.
"Damned good thing, too. I saw you all puffed up down there. Could've gone eight kinds of wrong."
"Dude, you know what?" Alec's head whipped up to glare at him. "You don't need to go round talking like they're Russians, or something. I've dealt with them before, it's cool."
"Yeah, it really looked like it," Eliot muttered, ready to drop the subject, but Alec, apparently, wasn't.
"Seriously? You too? Everyone's a critic, man."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
Alec didn't answer, just rolled his eyes and turned, heading back up the next flight of stairs. Eliot was too busy flipping the entire conversation over in his head to follow.
---
Alec lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to calm himself the hell down. He hadn't really meant to get aggro on Eliot, but he was tired of all this. Spending all his time trying to keep the wheels from falling off, only to be questioned at every point and turn by people who didn't know what they were talking about.
Who hadn't fucking been there.
He'd been there for about half an hour, staring up at the thin streaks of darkening sky through the drawn blinds, when there was a rapping on the doorframe. Turning his head to look at Eliot, standing there, he noted the pack still slung over his shoulder, and wondered if he'd been packing to leave, if Alec had blown everything and this was going to be goodbye.
"Hey," Eliot said. "Mind if I come in?"
"Sure," Alec sat up. "Sorry, you know. About earlier."
"No need, it's cool." Eliot nodded to himself and sighed, dropping the pack from his shoulder. He didn't look like he was about to bolt. "Anyhow, I got us some phones."
"Seriously?" Alec grinned, all irritation forgotten as he watched Eliot drag them out, one by one, and set them on the desk. "Give 'em here."
Eliot did as he was told, remaining silent as Alec checked them out. Once upon a time, they wouldn't have been anything special to look at. Just another phone on a different network. Not half as nice as Alec's backup backup backup phone.
Now, though, when Alec pressed the button, something amazing happened. It actually turned on, lights swirling as the system booted. They still needed to be checked out, he had to go in and pull the GPS out, make sure they were clean, but they worked.
He really wished he had someone to call. Which reminded him.
"You track down Sophie and Nate?"
"Nate was released, and apparently they're heading this way, far as I've been told. No idea when they're gonna show."
"Damn it anyway," Alec said, his eyes sliding back to the glowing blue screen as the phone scanned for a signal.
A few seconds later, it found one. Aww yeah, baby.
When he glanced up again he was aware that he was grinning like an idiot, but a little surprised to find Eliot staring back at him with a worried expression on his face. "Eliot, man. What's up?"
"Ah. Nothing. Just. Got you something else," he went back into the bag, and extracted three clips of ammo, nodding at Alec as he held them out. "Courtesy of the National Guard. Wasn't sure if you were running low or anything. Got some more medical supplies and stuff in here, too."
"Great," Alec nodded, reaching out for the clips, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with them. Truth be told, he wasn't sure how many rounds he had left in the gun he was wearing, and it was a little unsettling. He remained silent, though. Eliot probably liked hearing about how idiotic Alec was with guns about half as much as he liked them in the first place.
He could feel Eliot's eyes burning into him, and set the loot down, forcing himself to not fidget with the phones. More than anything, he wanted to pretend that the weight of the gun stuck in his waistband was only in his head. He had to change the subject.
"You eat anything, man?"
"No. you?"
"Was waitin' on you," Alec decided, standing up and heading for the door, knocking gently against Eliot as he passed, mostly by accident. "You want to do the instant Spanish rice stuff or the instant alfredo stuff?"
"Neither," he heard Eliot muttering as he followed him towards the kitchenette.
"Hey man, consider yourself lucky. I could be tryin' to make it from scratch."
"Good point," Eliot agreed, a little too quickly, but when Alec turned to grumble back at him, he was grinning. Not as wide as he'd even seen, but it was better than nothing.
It was as good a time to kiss the jerk as any, so Alec did.
---
Mica hadn't been surprised to hear about the post office coming under new management. Word, it seems, still managed to spread, even without email. Jay's doing, Eliot figured, but who knew, really?
"It's all good, Mica had shrugged in distaste. "Long as I still get paid."
He was adaptable, if not exactly amenable, and it hadn't hurt that while Alec hadn't come up with a plan, yet, he'd had the foresight to expect that they'd need one, soon.
"You think we need a leapfrog route around them?" Alec asked no one in particular, not even glancing up from the map he'd pulled out.
Eliot exchanged a curious glance with Mica, who asked, "Alec, man. What do you mean?"
"They're going to be coming in here to intercept the mail deliveries, right? They're going to set up a regular route. We'll know where they are, so in the event that we decide we need to get out there, we can figure out where not to go."
"I already know how to avoid them," Mica frowned.
"Doesn't mean we're not going to need to change the play, comin' up. Getting around them, not getting away from them."
"Why?"
"If they weren't waiting for something specific, it's not likely they'd be sending out people to monitor things on this end. Cornelius has to know that we're going to be curious, and his crew is probably prepared to deal with any grab that we could probably make on this end. Which means we're going to need to figure a way out onto the ships, or catch them en route."
"I don't get it," Eliot interjected. "Why didn't you set this up before?"
"More risk than benefit," Alec smirked. "And there wasn't anything we needed from them." He stood up straight, stretched his back. "And my spidey-sense is telling me that's about to change."
Which was why after a short side trip to convince Mica's cousin to take over the mail route for the day, Eliot was cutting through an upended department store, trying not to look too hard at the stripped remains of mannequins scattered throughout the debris. Only the flimsiest of clothing lay in tatters on the floor. Party dresses and tuxedos and uncomfortable looking shoes.
Mica was up ahead, signaling him to slow down as he peered cautiously out the window to the street. "Looks like the avenue's clear," he confirmed, turning back to Eliot. "Thing is, I head east here, specifically to get around them. It's not a direct route. Once I'm out the door, anyone up on the corner can see me. They haven't messed with me yet, but they know."
"If that's their zone, is there any reason they'd change their path?"
"Not that I can think of," Mica said. "But who the hell knows."
"Alright," Eliot scratched at his brow. They were starting to narrow it down. They needed routes that they had control over, that Cornelius couldn't catch. Some random turn that looked inconsequential and pointless, something to gain them the ground they needed. If and when they needed it.
They took the eastern route, then spun out an extra three blocks in the wrong direction, until they reached Dorchester Street, where Mica stopped. Eliot sighed at the apologetic grimace when he realized where they were. Mica was pulling the crowbar out of his bag, and using it to pull up the manhole cover.
They were going into the sewers. Awesome.
"They know about this, too?" Eliot asked, following him down the ladder.
"Doubt it, but we won't know until we come up on Dry Dock Avenue. I was coming through here for a week or so, about two months back cause a bunch of crazy fundies had moved in, down by the church."
"What branch?"
"Rapture freaks," Mica confirmed, turning on his flashlight to illuminate fetid water and moldering walls. "Creepy as hell. There any other kind?"
Eliot shrugged. "Depends. They got any snakes?"
"What?" Mica snorted, and Eliot could tell he was smirking, even if he couldn't see his face. "No. Why would- what're you on about?"
"Never mind." Eliot reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his flashlight. It didn't help, much, too weak to do more than cast a dim glow at his feet. "Let's go."
---
His uncle had told him about the snake handlers that lived out in the hills behind the mines, but Eliot had never seen any until after the end of everything, when the snakes had come out of the grass, and their handlers came with them.
The first time he saw them, he was crossing through Virginia, and had heard a woman wailing over the hill and gone to investigate.
A few yards off the trail, down in the gulch, were about thirty people standing in a circle, each as raggedy-looking as the next, surrounding two figures in the center.
A woman knelt chanting in the dirt, holding up a snake, which swayed and whipped slowly around her wrist. Her other hand was scrabbling distractedly at the hair of the young girl lying in the dirt next to her.
The girl's eyes were scrunched shut. She had a white-knuckled grip on a wound on her other arm, and from his spot behind the trees, Eliot could hear her crying, and wondered if the woman was her mother, or just another stranger from the road. It didn't matter. Whoever the woman was, she was a million miles away, speaking in tongues, staring at the sky.
More accurately, the woman was shouting, but it didn't matter. Even if anyone had understood her, it wasn't like they had anyone to call. No dispatcher on the line telling them to stay calm, that help was on the way.
Nobody else was coming near the girl, either. Eliot didn't even think the woman knew she was there, really. Not entirely. The people that weren't praying or talking nonsense or whatever it was they were doing just stared at the two of them. The only movement was at the outer edge of the circle, where a man was reaching into a box.
But he wasn't grabbing a snakebite kit, or rummaging for first aid supplies. He was grabbing a snake of his own, and his chanting was growing louder.
None of them noticed Eliot watching, so they didn't notice him leaving, either, back the way he came.
---
There were no snakes in the sewer, no alligators, either. Not much of anyone, except for one toothless old man with wild yellow eyes, who would probably have run if he hadn't been in the middle of what smelled like a slow lingering death. He was too weak to move, too weak to do much besides growl out a warning for them to leave.
This close to the harbor, the stench was beginning to grow. Dead fish and moldering seaweed, along with the rodents and shit and washed-down street-rot.
Finally, Mica checked his map and pointed towards a dead end, shooting off the main tunnel. There was a steel grid stairwell and a door set about thirty feet up the wall.
The fact that they weren't going to have to deal with another manhole cover was only scant relief, but doors were easier for everyone, Cornelius included.
After picking the lock, Eliot forced himself to open the door slowly, before carefully peering around the room on the other side. Behind the racks full of dead computer equipment, there was nothing but cinderblock. Another heavy steel door across the room had dim light coming from a slight gap in the bottom of the frame. Outside, he could hear the ocean.
There was a plastic coffee mug, paint long since chipped off the steel, sitting on the small desk, next to a stack of dusty folders going to bold.
"Alright, we're right where we should be," Mica said, flipping through the papers. "State owns this building."
Eliot turned his attention back to the equipment. There were computers, yeah, but interspersed throughout, and stuck into the wall were analog readers attached to pipes that ran along the wall behind him.
As far as he could tell, it was meant to monitor the storm drains, maybe open or close floodgates somewhere. Boston hadn't sunk into the ocean, yet, so it was probably best not to touch anything.
"Let me see," Eliot said once Mica unfolded the map he'd brought.
"Unless I'm wrong, we should be coming up about here. Haven't been here in months, though. No clue what's on the other side of the door."
For all Eliot knew, they could be stepping out into an empty parking lot, or there could be half a dozen of Cornelius' best and brightest having a poetry reading and drinking tea.
He considered the door suspiciously. A year ago, he would've had Hardison on the line, already pulling up satellite photos and any surface surveillance to be had.
Four years ago, though, this had been his life. Not knowing what it was that he had to be ready to fight, waiting on the other side of the door.
And the ten years before that, too.
It was more tiring, now, than it used to be.
The sooner they saw that the path was clear, the sooner they got this over with, the sooner he could get back. Hang out with Alec for a bit before they had to go to the post office, if there was time.
"You ready?"
Mica nodded, shoving the map back into his pack. "Came all this way, didn't we?"
---
They stepped out into the blinding sunlight, but then right into shadow again, even before Eliot's eyes managed to adjust. He looked around, carefully, before taking his first breath of clean air.
They'd entered into a very narrow parking lot, with room enough for two trucks, nothing more. One of them still sat there, a large white pickup with city plates and windblown garbage wrapped around the tires. A large brick wall surrounded them on either side, but the driveway was clear out to the road.
So had cover enough, for the most part, and had a straight view of the harbor. Eliot waved Mica closer to the wall, and motioned for him to remain silent as they made their way forward.
All he needed to do was get a read on the situation in the Harbor, decide if they needed to find another way in, and they could go home.
Directly northeast of their position, about fifty yards, was a small pile of dead bodies lying on the concrete. Five or seven, it was hard to tell. Beyond that were old shipping containers, plenty of cover if they needed it, and beyond that, a barge and two ships sat dead in the water, a little ways out, and a smaller boat was just pulling up to one of the docks, much too close for comfort.
Eliot dodged back around the corner, hissing as he bumped into Mica, before carefully edging forward again, trying to listen, thinking, Well, I guess the route's solid. Over the sound of the waves, he wasn't really expecting to hear much of anything.
He really wasn't expecting to hear Parker's voice, loud and annoyed, and coming from way too close.
"Get your hands- knock it off, I'm going, alright? Would someone please tell me what the hell's going on?"
Mica had heard as well, and was already ducking back behind the truck for cover. Eliot wasn't sure how he made it, but he followed, landing a little too hard and gritting his teeth against the feel of gravel digging into his elbow. Doesn't matter.
He considered the odds. Four sets of boots surrounded Parker's sneakers as they passed on the other side of the gate, and a man's voice said, "I already told you. Cornelius says someone wants to talk to you."
Another moment, and they were gone. If Parker said anything more, Eliot couldn't hear. He counted to ten before breaking cover, and when he peered out again, he could see the guns trained on her.
And then he stood there like an idiot and watched them load her onto the boat.
Fuck.
---
Chapter 9
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter, NC-17 for the story
Spoilers: Up through end of season 2
Pairing: Alec Hardison/ Eliot Spencer
Warnings: None for *this* chapter...
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Story starts here.
Chapter 8
There was a fire somewhere in the western part of town, he could see it from the bank's fire escape, but it wasn't the first one Alec had seen, and he had more pressing issues to deal with.
For one, power. He'd run back to the post office to retrieve some of the smaller solar panels. Not enough for heat, not enough to survive the winter, but they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. Maybe see about moving into the school, if it came down to it. And hell, if Eliot wasn't around- because let's face it, nothing's set in stone- maybe he could hold out longer.
It was as depressing a thought as he could imagine.
Alec had learned how to not miss a lot of things. He didn't know how to miss thinking of his own survival in terms of as long as somebody else isn't there. Wanting to shoot him. Wanting to stay.
It was getting late, not dark yet, but close, and he had to stop thinking about it. He hadn't always been this superstitious.
He finished attaching the panel to the bracket and decided that he could work on getting it online later, and was turning to head back inside when he heard a gunshot, loud, rattling through the alleyway below.
Nothing at all, he told himself, having to look twice to confirm. You're hearing things, man.
He shut the door quietly behind him, intent on getting something on for dinner, wondering when Eliot was going to get back. Found himself wandering through the building, checking to make sure the four guns he'd hidden were where they were supposed to be.
They were right where he'd put them. Everything in its place. Situation normal, all fucked up.
---
All that Alec really knew about Jay was that he was a soldier for the Kings, and that Parker seemed to be far less creeped out by him than she probably should have been. He was a big guy, all muscle, and his friendliness had an underlying business first vein to it that was best left unexplored.
"Yo Hardison!" he shouted up at the building, waving when he saw Alec in the window. "We need to talk."
Hardison sighed. He was being called out. "Yeah, alright. Hang on."
Once upon a time, the Kings had been on a list, pulled from the BPD's gang activity tracking system and carefully monitored. And while they hadn't been at the top of said list, hadn't quite joined the ranks of those cases that Hardison brought to Nate's attention for immediate action, they'd been slowly making their way up the charts.
A few days before the pulse hit, they'd made it to seven, literally, with a bullet.
Alec couldn't remember the details, any more. Something about a single mom, caught in the crossfire. It had made the news. A week later, there were too many shootings and too many bodies to cover, and no way to publish them.
The mom's kids- one was a toddler, Alec thought- were only set apart by their tragedy for a day or two at most. A few days later, most of the rest of the country joined them. But he doubted it helped, if they were even alive to care.
As Alec came down the back way and cut up through the alley, not wanting to show off the main entrance, he managed to put on a friendly face. Much as he didn't like it, the Kings were the ones keeping the blocks around the school clear. Never mind the fact that a year ago, the school had been struggling to keep clear of them.
The moment he was out the front door, Jay was saying, "Parker told me about the move, said I could find you here."
"Figured as much, Alec nodded, scratching at his neck. "So what's up?"
"That's what I came to find out," Jay looked at him, hard now. His smirk had Alec wondering how many guns were trained on him from windows across the street. "Lot of folks been taken by surprise, hearing about the merger. So, man, no disrespect, but where you standin', these days?"
"Same place I've been standing," Alec reasoned, hackles up, wishing for the hundredth time that there were phone records he could check, emails he could lift, or video footage he could scan. Jay not trusting him wasn't reason enough for him to trust Jay. For all his talk, and for all Alec knew, Jay could be working for Cornelius.
"Look, man," he continued, "they're stepping up their game. Had to happen some time. I play along, nobody gets hurt." No need to tell him about trying to monitor the information flow, trying to do recon on the sly.
Jay nodded, as if he'd expected that answer. "You sure you weren't looking to get adopted?"
Seriously? Of all the- "Yo man, if you were gonna go buying your way in, would you wait for them to show up and point guns in your face, or would you go to them first? Believe me, if I'd wanted them all up in my business, I could've gone in with supply routes. Sentry locations. Storage facilities and backup sites. A detailed chart of who, exactly, they'd need to take in, and who they'd need to take out if they wanted to control the entire damned neighborhood."
Jay raised his hands, glancing sideways down the street, but Alec was on a roll. "And you and I both know that if I'd made that deal with them, I'd be sitting a lot prettier by now, and you and your crew would probably be under siege. Yet they were able to spare you to come hassle me, which says to me that either you're useless in a fight, or there's not anything going down."
His argument, finally completed, didn't have the effect he'd been hoping for, as Jay rolled his neck, probably signaling the others. He smiled, though, his voice easy, when he said, "You got a mouth on you, for a mailman."
Alec tried, he really did, but he couldn't quite stop himself from rolling his eyes. "That's good, comin' from an errand boy. Now check it. Ain't gonna lie to you. Only reason I'm standing here in the middle of the street explaining myself is because Parker vouched for you. She gets word that you're being a nuisance, though, what do you think will happen to that nice little retainer she's payin' y'all for services rendered? It's not like there aren't other hungry people willing to take the job."
"That depends on what she hears, don't it? For all she knows, you were dead when we got here."
Alec shifted, slightly. The gun was in his waistband, just in case. Unless there were some clean shooters running with Jay, he'd be able to do some damage of his own.
"Suppose that depends on who's doin' the telling." At that, Jay glanced up towards the bank's windows, searching, and just about to realize Alec's bluff. He had to get Jay's attention back on him, so he stepped forward, further into Jay's space.
"What? You think I come out here to chat with a known banger without backup of my own?" Alec forced himself to smirk as he dropped his voice threateningly. "This is gonna go down one of two ways. You shoot me, I shoot whoever I can, and in a few hours, Parker's going to find out. She's going to have words with your boss, and you know damned well you don't have the rank to be calling plays. Or, you can walk away right now, report back that everything's under control, and get a pat on the head for doin' your job."
Alec stared Jay down, waiting. "So what's it gonna be?"
---
Eliot took the back stairs two at a time, surprised to find so many open doors between their place and the street. Through one of the windows, he could hear voices outside.
Alec was arguing with some guy, and from the looks of it, it had been going on for some times. He backed into the shadows and scanned the street and the buildings across the way.
He saw three men with guns, and really, he wasn't thrilled about it. He was even less thrilled when he heard the cocky tone Alec was using.
So what's it gonna be? Eliot repeated Alec's words in his head. Yeah. Let's play a game of annoy the gang bangers.
The alley had been clear when he'd arrived, but there was no way to get across the street in any quick fashion without being seen. There was no way of knowing who these guys were, or if they'd shoot him on sight, or worse, spook, and shoot everywhere, blind.
Glancing out again, though, he could see the other man shaking his head and stepping back with palms raised. "Yo, man. We're cool. Just following orders, you know?"
"All right then," Alec said, his stance becoming less rigid. "You tell your boss everything's cool, and it goes no further than this, you feel me?"
The guy nodded, turning towards the building across the street and jerking his head. Alec, already, was heading for the alley, and a few moments later, Eliot could hear his tread on the stairs, and he went to meet him by the office door.
"What the hell was that about?" Eliot asked, crossing his arms.
Alec started, stopping short and blinking. "Nothing. Just a little misunderstanding, is all. When'd you get back?"
"Early enough to see what looked like you threatening a gang banger with no backup."
"Yeah, well. You were here. I had backup," he muttered tiredly, pushing past him and heading towards the office's kitchenette.
"Damned good thing, too. I saw you all puffed up down there. Could've gone eight kinds of wrong."
"Dude, you know what?" Alec's head whipped up to glare at him. "You don't need to go round talking like they're Russians, or something. I've dealt with them before, it's cool."
"Yeah, it really looked like it," Eliot muttered, ready to drop the subject, but Alec, apparently, wasn't.
"Seriously? You too? Everyone's a critic, man."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
Alec didn't answer, just rolled his eyes and turned, heading back up the next flight of stairs. Eliot was too busy flipping the entire conversation over in his head to follow.
---
Alec lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to calm himself the hell down. He hadn't really meant to get aggro on Eliot, but he was tired of all this. Spending all his time trying to keep the wheels from falling off, only to be questioned at every point and turn by people who didn't know what they were talking about.
Who hadn't fucking been there.
He'd been there for about half an hour, staring up at the thin streaks of darkening sky through the drawn blinds, when there was a rapping on the doorframe. Turning his head to look at Eliot, standing there, he noted the pack still slung over his shoulder, and wondered if he'd been packing to leave, if Alec had blown everything and this was going to be goodbye.
"Hey," Eliot said. "Mind if I come in?"
"Sure," Alec sat up. "Sorry, you know. About earlier."
"No need, it's cool." Eliot nodded to himself and sighed, dropping the pack from his shoulder. He didn't look like he was about to bolt. "Anyhow, I got us some phones."
"Seriously?" Alec grinned, all irritation forgotten as he watched Eliot drag them out, one by one, and set them on the desk. "Give 'em here."
Eliot did as he was told, remaining silent as Alec checked them out. Once upon a time, they wouldn't have been anything special to look at. Just another phone on a different network. Not half as nice as Alec's backup backup backup phone.
Now, though, when Alec pressed the button, something amazing happened. It actually turned on, lights swirling as the system booted. They still needed to be checked out, he had to go in and pull the GPS out, make sure they were clean, but they worked.
He really wished he had someone to call. Which reminded him.
"You track down Sophie and Nate?"
"Nate was released, and apparently they're heading this way, far as I've been told. No idea when they're gonna show."
"Damn it anyway," Alec said, his eyes sliding back to the glowing blue screen as the phone scanned for a signal.
A few seconds later, it found one. Aww yeah, baby.
When he glanced up again he was aware that he was grinning like an idiot, but a little surprised to find Eliot staring back at him with a worried expression on his face. "Eliot, man. What's up?"
"Ah. Nothing. Just. Got you something else," he went back into the bag, and extracted three clips of ammo, nodding at Alec as he held them out. "Courtesy of the National Guard. Wasn't sure if you were running low or anything. Got some more medical supplies and stuff in here, too."
"Great," Alec nodded, reaching out for the clips, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with them. Truth be told, he wasn't sure how many rounds he had left in the gun he was wearing, and it was a little unsettling. He remained silent, though. Eliot probably liked hearing about how idiotic Alec was with guns about half as much as he liked them in the first place.
He could feel Eliot's eyes burning into him, and set the loot down, forcing himself to not fidget with the phones. More than anything, he wanted to pretend that the weight of the gun stuck in his waistband was only in his head. He had to change the subject.
"You eat anything, man?"
"No. you?"
"Was waitin' on you," Alec decided, standing up and heading for the door, knocking gently against Eliot as he passed, mostly by accident. "You want to do the instant Spanish rice stuff or the instant alfredo stuff?"
"Neither," he heard Eliot muttering as he followed him towards the kitchenette.
"Hey man, consider yourself lucky. I could be tryin' to make it from scratch."
"Good point," Eliot agreed, a little too quickly, but when Alec turned to grumble back at him, he was grinning. Not as wide as he'd even seen, but it was better than nothing.
It was as good a time to kiss the jerk as any, so Alec did.
---
Mica hadn't been surprised to hear about the post office coming under new management. Word, it seems, still managed to spread, even without email. Jay's doing, Eliot figured, but who knew, really?
"It's all good, Mica had shrugged in distaste. "Long as I still get paid."
He was adaptable, if not exactly amenable, and it hadn't hurt that while Alec hadn't come up with a plan, yet, he'd had the foresight to expect that they'd need one, soon.
"You think we need a leapfrog route around them?" Alec asked no one in particular, not even glancing up from the map he'd pulled out.
Eliot exchanged a curious glance with Mica, who asked, "Alec, man. What do you mean?"
"They're going to be coming in here to intercept the mail deliveries, right? They're going to set up a regular route. We'll know where they are, so in the event that we decide we need to get out there, we can figure out where not to go."
"I already know how to avoid them," Mica frowned.
"Doesn't mean we're not going to need to change the play, comin' up. Getting around them, not getting away from them."
"Why?"
"If they weren't waiting for something specific, it's not likely they'd be sending out people to monitor things on this end. Cornelius has to know that we're going to be curious, and his crew is probably prepared to deal with any grab that we could probably make on this end. Which means we're going to need to figure a way out onto the ships, or catch them en route."
"I don't get it," Eliot interjected. "Why didn't you set this up before?"
"More risk than benefit," Alec smirked. "And there wasn't anything we needed from them." He stood up straight, stretched his back. "And my spidey-sense is telling me that's about to change."
Which was why after a short side trip to convince Mica's cousin to take over the mail route for the day, Eliot was cutting through an upended department store, trying not to look too hard at the stripped remains of mannequins scattered throughout the debris. Only the flimsiest of clothing lay in tatters on the floor. Party dresses and tuxedos and uncomfortable looking shoes.
Mica was up ahead, signaling him to slow down as he peered cautiously out the window to the street. "Looks like the avenue's clear," he confirmed, turning back to Eliot. "Thing is, I head east here, specifically to get around them. It's not a direct route. Once I'm out the door, anyone up on the corner can see me. They haven't messed with me yet, but they know."
"If that's their zone, is there any reason they'd change their path?"
"Not that I can think of," Mica said. "But who the hell knows."
"Alright," Eliot scratched at his brow. They were starting to narrow it down. They needed routes that they had control over, that Cornelius couldn't catch. Some random turn that looked inconsequential and pointless, something to gain them the ground they needed. If and when they needed it.
They took the eastern route, then spun out an extra three blocks in the wrong direction, until they reached Dorchester Street, where Mica stopped. Eliot sighed at the apologetic grimace when he realized where they were. Mica was pulling the crowbar out of his bag, and using it to pull up the manhole cover.
They were going into the sewers. Awesome.
"They know about this, too?" Eliot asked, following him down the ladder.
"Doubt it, but we won't know until we come up on Dry Dock Avenue. I was coming through here for a week or so, about two months back cause a bunch of crazy fundies had moved in, down by the church."
"What branch?"
"Rapture freaks," Mica confirmed, turning on his flashlight to illuminate fetid water and moldering walls. "Creepy as hell. There any other kind?"
Eliot shrugged. "Depends. They got any snakes?"
"What?" Mica snorted, and Eliot could tell he was smirking, even if he couldn't see his face. "No. Why would- what're you on about?"
"Never mind." Eliot reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his flashlight. It didn't help, much, too weak to do more than cast a dim glow at his feet. "Let's go."
---
His uncle had told him about the snake handlers that lived out in the hills behind the mines, but Eliot had never seen any until after the end of everything, when the snakes had come out of the grass, and their handlers came with them.
The first time he saw them, he was crossing through Virginia, and had heard a woman wailing over the hill and gone to investigate.
A few yards off the trail, down in the gulch, were about thirty people standing in a circle, each as raggedy-looking as the next, surrounding two figures in the center.
A woman knelt chanting in the dirt, holding up a snake, which swayed and whipped slowly around her wrist. Her other hand was scrabbling distractedly at the hair of the young girl lying in the dirt next to her.
The girl's eyes were scrunched shut. She had a white-knuckled grip on a wound on her other arm, and from his spot behind the trees, Eliot could hear her crying, and wondered if the woman was her mother, or just another stranger from the road. It didn't matter. Whoever the woman was, she was a million miles away, speaking in tongues, staring at the sky.
More accurately, the woman was shouting, but it didn't matter. Even if anyone had understood her, it wasn't like they had anyone to call. No dispatcher on the line telling them to stay calm, that help was on the way.
Nobody else was coming near the girl, either. Eliot didn't even think the woman knew she was there, really. Not entirely. The people that weren't praying or talking nonsense or whatever it was they were doing just stared at the two of them. The only movement was at the outer edge of the circle, where a man was reaching into a box.
But he wasn't grabbing a snakebite kit, or rummaging for first aid supplies. He was grabbing a snake of his own, and his chanting was growing louder.
None of them noticed Eliot watching, so they didn't notice him leaving, either, back the way he came.
---
There were no snakes in the sewer, no alligators, either. Not much of anyone, except for one toothless old man with wild yellow eyes, who would probably have run if he hadn't been in the middle of what smelled like a slow lingering death. He was too weak to move, too weak to do much besides growl out a warning for them to leave.
This close to the harbor, the stench was beginning to grow. Dead fish and moldering seaweed, along with the rodents and shit and washed-down street-rot.
Finally, Mica checked his map and pointed towards a dead end, shooting off the main tunnel. There was a steel grid stairwell and a door set about thirty feet up the wall.
The fact that they weren't going to have to deal with another manhole cover was only scant relief, but doors were easier for everyone, Cornelius included.
After picking the lock, Eliot forced himself to open the door slowly, before carefully peering around the room on the other side. Behind the racks full of dead computer equipment, there was nothing but cinderblock. Another heavy steel door across the room had dim light coming from a slight gap in the bottom of the frame. Outside, he could hear the ocean.
There was a plastic coffee mug, paint long since chipped off the steel, sitting on the small desk, next to a stack of dusty folders going to bold.
"Alright, we're right where we should be," Mica said, flipping through the papers. "State owns this building."
Eliot turned his attention back to the equipment. There were computers, yeah, but interspersed throughout, and stuck into the wall were analog readers attached to pipes that ran along the wall behind him.
As far as he could tell, it was meant to monitor the storm drains, maybe open or close floodgates somewhere. Boston hadn't sunk into the ocean, yet, so it was probably best not to touch anything.
"Let me see," Eliot said once Mica unfolded the map he'd brought.
"Unless I'm wrong, we should be coming up about here. Haven't been here in months, though. No clue what's on the other side of the door."
For all Eliot knew, they could be stepping out into an empty parking lot, or there could be half a dozen of Cornelius' best and brightest having a poetry reading and drinking tea.
He considered the door suspiciously. A year ago, he would've had Hardison on the line, already pulling up satellite photos and any surface surveillance to be had.
Four years ago, though, this had been his life. Not knowing what it was that he had to be ready to fight, waiting on the other side of the door.
And the ten years before that, too.
It was more tiring, now, than it used to be.
The sooner they saw that the path was clear, the sooner they got this over with, the sooner he could get back. Hang out with Alec for a bit before they had to go to the post office, if there was time.
"You ready?"
Mica nodded, shoving the map back into his pack. "Came all this way, didn't we?"
---
They stepped out into the blinding sunlight, but then right into shadow again, even before Eliot's eyes managed to adjust. He looked around, carefully, before taking his first breath of clean air.
They'd entered into a very narrow parking lot, with room enough for two trucks, nothing more. One of them still sat there, a large white pickup with city plates and windblown garbage wrapped around the tires. A large brick wall surrounded them on either side, but the driveway was clear out to the road.
So had cover enough, for the most part, and had a straight view of the harbor. Eliot waved Mica closer to the wall, and motioned for him to remain silent as they made their way forward.
All he needed to do was get a read on the situation in the Harbor, decide if they needed to find another way in, and they could go home.
Directly northeast of their position, about fifty yards, was a small pile of dead bodies lying on the concrete. Five or seven, it was hard to tell. Beyond that were old shipping containers, plenty of cover if they needed it, and beyond that, a barge and two ships sat dead in the water, a little ways out, and a smaller boat was just pulling up to one of the docks, much too close for comfort.
Eliot dodged back around the corner, hissing as he bumped into Mica, before carefully edging forward again, trying to listen, thinking, Well, I guess the route's solid. Over the sound of the waves, he wasn't really expecting to hear much of anything.
He really wasn't expecting to hear Parker's voice, loud and annoyed, and coming from way too close.
"Get your hands- knock it off, I'm going, alright? Would someone please tell me what the hell's going on?"
Mica had heard as well, and was already ducking back behind the truck for cover. Eliot wasn't sure how he made it, but he followed, landing a little too hard and gritting his teeth against the feel of gravel digging into his elbow. Doesn't matter.
He considered the odds. Four sets of boots surrounded Parker's sneakers as they passed on the other side of the gate, and a man's voice said, "I already told you. Cornelius says someone wants to talk to you."
Another moment, and they were gone. If Parker said anything more, Eliot couldn't hear. He counted to ten before breaking cover, and when he peered out again, he could see the guns trained on her.
And then he stood there like an idiot and watched them load her onto the boat.
Fuck.
---
Chapter 9