The Water Spout

The Weavers

I met up with my Weaver contact like usual. The runner had his face covered in a black bandana and took me to an abandoned section of the city ruins I'd never entered.

He stopped shortly after I followed him into a derelict Italian restaurant. It reminded me of one of those bistros where you'd see old-timey gangsters sit at the corner table and discuss family business.

"Stay," the runner turned and left me alone for the trade-off.

This was a different second location than the usual.

I didn't know the Weavers moved their headquarters!

Or had I, up until now, simply been deemed untrustworthy?

A few minutes later, after the runner departed, a woman greeted me from the shadows.

It was Mina.

It was always strange that she was always the one to come out and meet me.

"Glad to see those bums in the shipyard didn't cause you too much trouble," the tall redhead flashed me a smirk, then waved for me to follow her into the kitchen.

The shelves and pantry inside were long since scavenged, but all the pots and pans were still dangling over the dusty stovetops.

Mina led me down a partially lit hallway with no windows, then we took two more turns that eventually dead-ends at a broken vending machine.

She typed in the code S91D35, triggering the little lights on the keypad to blink.

I jolted when the wall opened up beside me.

Inside, was a tiny room, furnished with a crazy-ripped blond guard standing quietly with a sidearm and a semiautomatic.

"Ma'am," he curtly acknowledged Mina as she entered.

It was an elevator and I was dying to know where it led to!

The little cube sealed up and rocketed the three of us several stories below ground level.

I was dying to ask questions, but I decided it was best to play it cool next to Mina.

She was older, maybe thirty, with effortless copper locks and a cup size that had big blondy in the corner, struggling to keep his eyes facing forward.

If this had been a Citadel and I were aiming to gut this hideout, I'd choose this as my opening. Hardly anyone notices the scrawny girl with a wonky braid and bulky men's clothing.

The elevator dinged and came to a halt, then the doors slid open to a bright, spacious medical facility.

Holy Crap!

This place was fully staffed and way more advanced than any Citadel.

"This way," Mina chirped and tapped my shoulder.

The sterile gray hallways were swarming with doctors and nurses.

Creating this place was no small feat!

But man, did people need it!

After the wildfires, drought, famine, and water shortages, governments all over the world collapsed. Including all the networks supporting regular people in getting basic medical care.

The Weavers weren't as vast as some other rebel organizations, but they were coordinated, and the work they provided was essential for mending the little wounds that mattered.

I waved to people I didn't know and said hi even though most of them gawked at me like I was an unwelcome weirdo.

There was no hiding that I was in awe, yet all the integrated tech lining the walls made me feel small.