The Weight of the World

Chapter 6: Squad Up

After a mad dash across the street, we slowed our pace. It'd do no good to attract attention before we hopped the fence. Or so Joe said. I didn't see a difference either way, but then again, I was the one who'd chopped off the fingers of a man just doing his job.

With a shovel. Maybe there was a reason Joe was doing the plan.

The fence was a standard chain-link, probably 7 feet high or so. A double vehicle gate was alongside the road, which led into the bus park. Fifteen or so buses, lined up like soldiers, ran parallel to the gate.

At the far side of the lot, a brown brick building with a flat-top roof was tucked in to a thick hedge. "Keys'll be in there," Joe said.

"That seems too easy," Lacy said.

"Did my work experience here," he said. "Trust me."

"Do you even know how to drive one of these things?" Lacy asked.

"Well," he said, quite clearly blagging it all. "The bloke explained it to me, and I can drive a car, so, I'll work it out."

"What a confidence boost." Mike said, and Lacy rolled her eyes. "Anyway, how we getting inside?"

"The gap under the gate iis massive, so we crawl under, smash the window, grab the keys, blast out of here."

Together, we nodded at his logic. Still, nobody moved. Mike blew out some air. "Do we all go under at once, or one at a time, or?"

Pushing them all aside, I scoffed. Bravado to encourage myself, mostly. Dropping to a pressup position, I slithered under. Mike grinned, lobbed his bag over, then followed me. I didn't hang around to watch the others, confident they could combat a fence.

Instead, I walked as if I belonged, across the lot, to the building. Half-heartedly, I tried the door, and almost fell as it swung open. "Uh, Joe?"

"Must have forgotten to lock it?" he shrugged. "Well, go in."

"Why? You know where the keys are, you go," I said, folding my arms over my chest. A wry smile filled his face.

"You're not scared, are you?"

"What? No, it just makes sense," I began.

"Just go get the fucking keys, Joe." Mike pinched the bridge of his nose. "We'll keep watch, alright? A whistle is the signal."

Joe vanished into the dark office. He wasn't gone very long, although the rustle of his search seemed painfully loud in the empty lot. The road was dead, neither a car, cyclist or pedestrian walking by.

That was, until a troop of maybe fifteen kids arrived, all wrapped in lots of layers, carrying duffel bags and backpacks, lugging suitcases.

If I had to guess, the eldest was our age. The youngest, maybe thirteen? Point being, it was shady. I stepped away from the wall I'd been leaning on, approaching. Like us, they eyed up the fence and gate.

Bodies shifted behind one another as I came closer. Arms raised behind, forcing smaller bodies into shelter. One, wearing a mask and hat, under which poked a shock of golden hair, stepped closer to the fence.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, in a voice braver than I felt.

"I could ask you the same," she said, her voice muffled. Round eyes, blue as the sky, peered out from beneath the hat. Giving nothing away, they widened in surprise. I raised a confused eyebrow, which fell (like penny which dropped in my head) as she pulled down the mask.

"Issy, it's me!"

"Cat, what the hell are you doing here?"

"The same as you, I presume."