THE HUNTRESS #1 [EB]

8_Disagreements_I.docx

Canton Vaud, Au Casoleivre,
Sunday 1 November 2121.

The ambulance hurtled through the dark, windy night, its siren a distant wail swallowed by the howling wind. Rico and Zeurst sat across from each other, the dim, sporadic lights inside cast flickering shadows on their faces. Between them lay General Starz, his body strapped to the gurney, motionless but for the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

Rico glanced at Zeurst and broke the silence first, "How are you doing?" he asked, his voice steady but concerned as he glanced at the blood-stained wound on Zeurst's abdomen.

Zeurst's gaze locked onto his for a moment, a hint of weariness in her eyes, before she replied, "I've seen better days."

Rico nodded, digesting her words. He leaned back against the cold, metallic wall of the ambulance, his gaze shifting to the general. "What are the chances that General Starz will come out of this?"

She gave a slight shrug, her gaze wandering to the window where the shadowy landscape blurred by. "Hard to say."

The wind outside howled with a ferocity that made the ambulance shudder. Rico's eyes were fixed on her, noting the subtle dance of her fingers as they tensed and released against her forearms. "You don't seem rattled by—your wound." Zeurst remained silent. Rico shifted, drew in a deep breath, his voice lowering as he spoke again, "I've never been stabbed. Only roughed up."

For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic thump of the tires on the road and the steady beep of the monitor tracking General Starz's vital signs. Then, without looking at him, Zeurst broke her silence. "Well, I have."

"So," Rico began, trying to lighten the mood, "what's the first thing you're going to do when we get back to headquarters?"

Zeurst's gaze shifted to him before returning to the window. "You might want to start in the ER."

"Yeah, I guess that's important. But after that? Any plans for some R&R?"

She paused, her fingers still flexing and relaxing in a rhythm that belied her tension. "I haven't thought that far ahead—"

Rico leaned forward, trying to catch her eye. "Come on, there's got to be something. A favourite meal? A hot shower?"

"I need a shower."

"Yeah, a shower sounds like heaven right now. And maybe a real meal. I'm getting pretty tired of rations." Zeurst's silence returned, and Rico felt it weighing on him again. The ambulance jolted over a rough patch of road, and Rico wince. "How's the wound holding up?"

"It's alright."

Rico sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You know, talking helps. Even if it's just about stupid stuff."

"Talking doesn't change anything."

"Maybe not," he admitted, "but it might make it a little easier to bear."

"Talk to yourself."

Rico and Zeurst sat in a shared silence. The rhythmic thrum of the engine was the only sound, punctuated by the occasional hiss of the oxygen tank and the soft beep of the heart monitor. Zeurst stared out the window, her eyes tracing the blurry outlines of trees and deserted streets. Rico, on the other hand, was hunched over his phone, his fingers twitching against the screen.

The ambulance driver's voice crackled through the intercom, "We're on our way. Hang tight, folks."

Rico cast a sideways glance at Zeurst, who remained fixated on the landscape beyond the window. The ambulance lurched forward with a sudden burst of speed, the asphalt beneath them transforming into a continuous, indistinguishable blur. The first checkpoint loomed ahead, the barrier rising with a mechanical hiss, and the guards, clad in dark uniforms and stern expressions, waved them through with a sense of palpable urgency. The flashing lights of the security towers painted the scene in eerie, staccato bursts of red and blue, their relentless hum blending with the distant, ominous drone of machinery.