WATCHERS UNSEEN

  The crowd surged ahead, and the trio were left stunned by their tumultuous welcome into the city.

  “What do we do now?” Becca asked, her voice clipped with urgency.

  “Keep to the mission. What else?” Remy replied quietly.

  Will jerked his head toward the gathering mob. “We tail this group.”

  Remy blinked at him. “You’re serious?”

  “It’s good cover,” Will shrugged.

  Becca shot him a sharp look. “We need to disengage before level three. Crowley’s there, and if we get swept too deep—”

  “We won’t,” Will assured her. “Stick close.”

  With little choice, they fell into step behind the crowd, jostling for space as the mob churned forward. The narrow streets became rivers of angry humanity, a steady stream of workers, drifters, and militants pouring toward the town center. Will tugged his duffel bag tighter against his side, fighting to keep it from being yanked away in the crush.

  The street tilted dangerously near the edge of the level. Will gnced down and immediately regretted it. There were no guardrails. The drop to the next tier below was a sheer thirty feet—or more. He imagined a misstep, the crowd’s pressure sending someone tumbling over. Best case? Broken bones. Worst case? He pushed the thought away.

  “Don’t look down,” Remy muttered, his face pale.

  “No kidding,” Will replied, sidestepping away from the edge.

  As they marched, the crowd carried them deeper into Derbent. They passed through a trading district, though the word hardly seemed appropriate. The buildings here were little more than ramshackle booths and shanties, pressed shoulder to shoulder along the narrow street. Merchants ducked behind counters, hurriedly shuttering their shops as the mob advanced.

  Will's eyes darted from one face to another, noting the tense expressions and nervous movements. More people joined the march with every passing moment, swelling the crowd to a size that could spell serious trouble.

  "If this crowd gets any bigger," Will muttered, "the military is going to have a real problem on their hands."

  Becca’s head snapped up. "Hold on," she said sharply, pointing to the edges of the throng. "Look there."

  Will followed her gaze and spotted what she had noticed—individuals standing apart, watching the crowd with sharp, calcuting eyes. Their movements were subtle but telling. A pair shifted positions to cover each other’s blind spots, and their hands rested near their sides, ready for a fast draw. The small details spoke volumes.

  "Those are soldiers!" hissed Remy under his breath, his jaw tightening.

  Will’s stomach sank. If they were here, it meant the military already knew what was happening. “I don’t want to get caught in an op,” he said grimly. “We need to finish our task and get out, fast. Come on.”

  The trio slipped out of the main procession and ducked into a narrow side alley. The sound of the crowd faded as they descended a set of icy, uneven stairs to the second level. Although crowds were forming there too, it wasn’t as chaotic as the upper levels. As they jogged down the road, Will kept a sharp eye on the scene below.

  "We’re in the right sector and only a level above," Will muttered. "We should be able to see Crowley’s hideyhole from here."

  They searched the area quickly, eyes scanning every building and shadow for any sign of Crowley’s hideout. The second level gave them a better view to the third, but the cluster of ramshackle buildings made it difficult to spot anything definitive. It was only about a minute ter that Becca finally found something.

  “There!” Becca excimed, pointing to a structure on the third level. Will’s eyes nded on a partially buried weapons depot, its walls scorched bck and its roof weighed down by snow and rubble.

  “Matches the description,” Remy said in an excited whisper. His eyes darted toward the edge as though he wanted to jump to the next level then and there.

  Will put a hand on his shoulder. "Wait."

  "I wasn’t going to jump," Remy chuckled. "There should be a set of stairs further ahead. We can climb down it and double back."

  Will didn’t let go of his shoulder, and Remy gave him a puzzled look. Will shook his head slightly. “Walk slow. No sudden movements. We’re being followed.”

  Becca and Remy stiffened but continued walking, their steps measured and deliberate. Remy cast a casual gnce to the side, his eyes scanning the shadows. “Where?”

  “Four o’clock. Grey coat,” Will replied quietly. “One of the observers from the march.”

  “Shit,” Remy muttered, his voice tight.

  Becca frowned. “Why are they following us? We didn’t do anything to stand out.”

  “Maybe because we left the procession?” Remy suggested. “Could have tripped some arm.”

  Will’s jaw tightened. “Other than the one in grey, there are two more.”

  Remy inhaled sharply, and Becca tapped her arm nervously.

  “So, what now?” she asked, her voice low but urgent.

  “Let’s try losing them in the crowd,” said Will.

  They quickened their pace slightly, weaving through clusters of pedestrians. But no matter how deftly they moved, their pursuers kept pace, their presence a constant weight pressing on Will’s nerves. As they neared the stairway to the lower level, Becca whispered, “We’d better lose this tail before we get there.”

  “How do they keep finding us?” hissed Remy. “We’re not exactly making it easy for them.”

  Will had been wondering the same. They wore simir drab colors as the rest of the pedestrians, and there was nothing remarkable about them. Were their pursuers just that perceptive, or was something else at py?

  Will swept the area once again, and his eyes nded on his duffle bag. Realization struck him like a hammer. “I’m an idiot,” he groaned.

  “What?” Remy asked.

  “It’s the bag,” said Will. “No one else is carrying one.”

  Remy snorted softly, steam hissing from his rebreather. “Right, that makes sense.”

  “We could ditch it,” said Becca. “It’s not like there’s anything important in there.”

  Will gave a reluctant nod. They were already geared up, and only some spare fres and ties were left in the bag.

  “Alright, we’ll make a break for it and ditch the bag,” said Will. “Do you see any pces where we can make a quick exit?”

  There was a brief exchange as they discussed their route. A minute ter, it was decided. Becca steeled herself, fogging the air with a deep breath, while Remy shook out his arms, loosening up.

  “Ready?” Will asked.

  Both nodded.

  “Go!”

  The trio broke into a sprint, weaving through the crowd. The sudden burst of movement startled their pursuers, but they quickly gave chase. Will led the group down a side alley, dodging pedestrians and nearly knocking over a stack of crates. Ahead, a group of three men ambled down the street. Without slowing, Will thrust the duffle bag into their arms as he passed by.

  “Hey! What the—” one of the men shouted, staring at the bag in confusion.

  Behind them, shouts rang out as the three soldiers descended on the unsuspecting group. Will didn’t look back.

  “Walk normally,” Will said quietly, forcing himself to rex. The trio quietly blended into the crowd and wove their way down the stairway to the next level.

  Only when they reached the bottom did Becca break the tense silence.

  “Do you think we lost them?” she asked.

  “Looks like it,” Remy said, exhaling heavily. “But why were they following us? Did the bag set something off?”

  “Who knows?” Will shook his head. “Besides—it doesn’t matter. We’re here.”

  They turned their attention forward. The abandoned factory loomed ahead, half-buried under a ndslide of snow and rubble. Its walls were charred but mostly intact, standing like a grim sentinel over the desote ndscape.

  Will adjusted his rebreather and strode forward, his eyes hard with determination. “Let’s go get Crowley.”

  JasonCliff