Choices 2 - Chasing hope [ENG]

11.

A week has passed, and I arrived without too many problems at the city where this Boris' refuge should be located. I really hope he's friendly, because I wouldn't want to find myself forced to be hurt, or to hurt him. I walk through the streets of the city, and everything seems too quiet, until at a certain point I hear whistles. They are not animalistic, but they seem studied, they seem human.

I hide behind an alley, and I stretch out just a little to see who is passing by. I see three people on horseback all dressed in long, brown robes. Two of them, two men, have shaved heads and are holding a bow, while the other is a woman, and her hair is gathered in braids that surround her head. She also holds a bow.

They continue to whistle, and I hear nonverbal responses from different parts of the city. As soon as they get too close to the alley where I am hiding, I collapse behind a dumpster, noticing how some of them are also passing from the other street onto which the alley faces.

If they noticed me, I would be surrounded, and they would leave me no chance of escape. But fortunately, this possibility does not come true, and the two groups pass beyond the alley without sensing my presence at all. I take a sigh of relief before starting to walk again, this time passing through a secondary road, towards Boris's refuge. I really hope he's friendly.

The circle marked by Flynn is not exactly very precise, because it refers to a real neighborhood of the city. Furthermore, I am sure that Boris has chosen a mostly hidden and not particularly exposed place as a refuge. If not, there would be no reason to call it a refuge. I wander around the city, trying not to go too far from the area of interest, until at a certain point I come across an alley that catches my attention. It is not particularly lit, and its passage is blocked by some furniture, which suggests that there is nothing beyond. I'm willing to bet that's not the case.

I get closer and start feeling the furniture until I realize that to my right, hidden all too well, there is a window covered by the open door of a cupboard inside the house. The darkness certainly doesn't help to realize that presence, because, considering the size of that door, it seems that it is one with the wall, and is confused with one of the usual barricades typical of houses in the city. I move the door, which creaks with that simple movement, and after looking around, I climb inside. I find myself in what several years ago must have been a living room. I imagine a family sitting on the sofa, calmly watching television, perhaps hugging each other.

I realize that I will never be able to know what it feels like to experience such a moment.

I see in front of me some stairs that lead directly to the roof of this house. I climb three flights of stairs trying to make as little noise as possible, and I find myself in an attic. It is empty, completely empty. This cannot be Boris' refuge. I start looking for something that can help me understand where I should go, and after feeling the walls, I realize that, in a dark corner, a string is dangling. I pull it, and a passage opens in front of me to reach the roof. I climb up, and only now I realize that I am higher than I thought. A breeze caresses my face and moves my hair. I look up, and I realize that there is an excellent view of the city here. I take a step to the right, in order to close the opening that brought me here, to avoid carelessly falling into it. My foot rests on a small bump. I lift my shoe, and I realize there is a cartridge case underneath it. A rifle shell, probably from a sniper. Not far away, a sniper position, without a sniper, fortunately.

I have to be close.

On my left, a few meters away, there is another building, and behind various barricades, I glimpse what could be defined as a shelter. I just have to find a way to get to the other side, without jumping, because I am aware of the fact that I wouldn't make it. It is at least five meters. I have to find a solution quickly: I'm too exposed here. Not far from me, hidden by some foliage, I see a plank long enough to be able to touch the other building. I pick it up, position it, and test its reliability. But after all, if Boris, who as far as I know is a grown man, could do it, I should be able to do it too, weight-wise. As for courage, I don't know which side to take. I put my foot on the creaking board, and small pieces fall into the air. I also position the other one, until, after finding a constant pace, I arrive at the other side. I take a long sigh of relief. I can officially say that I have defied death for the umpteenth time.