The Eden Projects (EDITING)

Chapter 10 The Birds.

Redside City split the horizon in a magnificent gathering of towering spires and steel beams laid to rust. One sign caught Kasper's eye, "OLD NEW YORK: A City-past, Museum parking..."

Down the assigned ramp, he could just barely see a small collection of skeletal brick buildings. He wondered just how old they were. If they pre-dated Redside, or were merely made to look it. They stayed straight, flowing into the city's center through one of the main arteries. Crossing one of the largest bridges Kasper had ever seen cautiously to finally be spat out like wasted chewing gum into the outskirts. Their eyes searching the buildings for the location The Birds had chosen to meet. It had been nearly an hour and their patience was waning. 

Patience was something that only grew more and more scant as the days went by. The Birds constantly tested it. After some time, they had found it.

Archer careened the truck into a nearby covered parking garage. It let out an audible sigh, settling into its bones. "Alright. Let's get this over with." He spoke. Checking his gun once before leaving the steel safety of the vehicle.

Kasper joined them, feeling an uncomfortable sensation creeping over him, as if he were a clinging growth at their sides—an unwelcome and malignant sort. He trailed behind them, aware that he was tagging along simply because severing that connection would be too much of a hassle for everyone involved. It gnawed at him, this feeling of being an utterly useless something. He checked his gun again, repeating the motion over and over as they walked. His eyes constantly darted upwards, scanning the skies. He wondered if the Birds were watching them now, their sharp eyes fixed on the small group below. They had to be, he thought.

Military tanks and inoperable Ark vehicles sat rusting on the sidewalks and street-sides. The metal bones of tents stood in gathered huddles like mechanical spiderwebs. It was quiet. Then again, so was every city. They were all abandoned. Wind howled down through the passages every so often, beating against the old street signs and creaky, swaying, traffic lights. A deer bleated a few streets over and birds let out a ruckus in one of the overgrown hedges. Walls of growing greenery sloughed against quarter barriers and wrenched free poles. The smell of some scientific process ranked the air with a metallic stench. Rust.

Rubble, Cafe, rubble, rubble, Bank... Bank.

"There." Zak pointed to the end of the street. An American flag ruffled itself from atop an old post. The side had been painted with the same symbol they had been following. "That's it." He folded the map and started to jog ahead. Archer and Kasper sped up, eyeing their surroundings for traps.

"Oh, it's not a bank." Kasper read the sign. "Ark E-M-B-Embassy?" He enunciated slowly. He could spell. given the time.

"The Embassy, of course this would be the place." Archer spoke sarcastically. Shouldering his gun. He shoved past Kasper and took the front steps in two's. 

The Birds always had a flair for the dramatic.

They cleared the shattered glass doors and pressed into the lobby quietly. A pile of dead Flickers lay slumped against the nearest wall. "ROOF" had been written above them in bold strokes, a haunting declaration of territory claimed. The bodies had been slashed to death, only a few had genuine bullet holes drilled through their heads. They were precise shots, evenly put between the eyes, as if the assailant took a moment to relish in the art of their aim. 

So flashy.

"Nice, they cleared the building at least." Zak tossed his hair, and opened the door to the stairs. 

Large tracks of fluorescent lights flickered when the door met the wall with a bang that ignited a thrum of backup generators. Kicking at the settled dust. A manmade, squinting glow filled the well. "Even better."