Visage | ONC 2023

NINE:

I held my breath for the first few steps up the dark sidewalk, then I realized, I shouldn't have done that. I needed to breathe so I'd smell them. Because when I did catch a whiff of the uninfected, I'd mutate. That was the goal.

Closing my eyes, I pushed out a ball of air. I was a few feet away from the brick warehouse when I caught the first scent. It wasn't strong; smelled more like food than people. So, I stopped and tried to figure out what it was.

I stared up at the red exterior, eyeing the broken, shattered windows. The smell came from one of them, or it pushed up from the small chimney stack releasing smoke. The sight of it had my brows high; had none of us in the q-zone noticed the warehouse was functional? Or had someone seen it and thought to ignore it, because why would we care? When I saw the customer in heels the other day, assuming she worked at a business-style establishment, I hadn't bothered to look into what was nearby. I accepted it as it was.

This warehouse, with the small, thin stream of smoke, and few windows brightened with lights was just that; it was what it was.

Sniffing at the air, I glanced around the foot of the building. "Bread," I said to myself, sliding my tongue over my teeth. "It smells like toast."

Was it the pack I helped Riley take the other day? Or had they found more? If the uninfected had taken refuge in a warehouse this size it had to be one of two things: 1) There were too many of them to stay outside the walls well hidden or 2) there were only a few within the group, but this was the closest and safest place they could be.

Within actually seeing them, I couldn't pinpoint which one it was.

"I need them to see me, though." I looked around the ground for something to throw. Mertz had parked the van at the start of the alley and turned off the engine. When I looked back at it, it blended so well with the environment; it was out of place, but dirty and dingey enough that no one would suspect anything. At nightfall, you couldn't see anyone inside either.

"Anything small." I slid my feet around the dead grass until my foot caught on something. A rock? Lifting my feet, I peered underneath the sole of my shoe and grinned. It was a rock; a decent size, too. I plucked it free from the leather and tossed it in my hand. "This'll work," I whispered, glancing back at the warehouse.

There was no way I could make this accidentally or a coincidence. There were birds, but I highly doubted they would pick up a rock and throw it at a building; it wasn't how they hunted. But if they did, that was a sight to see.

I needed someone to hear me and either glance out one of the broken windows or run out. And if they run out, maybe we could talk. Surely a man from the q-zone had to be terrifying. They knew where they were and they knew what we, the "infected," did in here if they got too close.

I just hoped it was more of a ask questions first and shirt after, not the other way around.

Sweet scent. Full and luscious.

Licking my lip, I leaned back and launched the rock forward at the top row of windows. For a second, it looked like I'd miss. But my old pitcher arm kicked in, paired with superior eyesight I never lost, I hit the second broken window. I hit the broken, cracked, exposed edge; a chunk snapped off and fell inside.

I stepped back and waited a minute. Someone should've heard it.

Yet, nothing. Silence. I growled and looked around for another rock. "This isn't going to work, is it?" I whispered. "I should just have Mertz honk a horn or—"

"Hey, did anyone hear that? Look at this!" a frantic voice came from inside the warehouse. Immediately, I looked up, hoping someone would look outside and see me. The voice sounded familiar, a woman, but it wasn't Riley.