Splintered

Chapter Thirty-Two: Coin-cidences

Concrete buildings were scattered about the streets of District Nine. Many of whose paint was flaking away as if they had not been maintained for decades. The air was biting and frigid in comparison with Ten, though still warmer than Seven.

Thankfully, it also lacked the aroma of death. Instead, the atmosphere was a blank slate, smelling of nothing in particular outside of a subtle hint of cement.

Bellona scraped her nails against her temple as she stalked beside Hazel. It was as if she could ward off an impending migraine.

They arrived at a blocky home with a solid wood door. "This right?" Hazel asked, raising her hand to knock, but hesitation took over.

"According to the local regimen." Bellona surveyed the humble building, "This is it."

After several shaky breaths, Hazel's hand surged forward in a series of rapid knocks.

What if no one was home?

A dark notion spread through her as she thought of Dill and Reapers' fates. And that of their families...

What if no one was left alive?

Suddenly, on the other side of the door, there was a hoarse grumble as well as some clunking thuds like furniture sliding about. A clink of a bottle was followed by several locks being undone.

With another grating sound, a ragged voice called out through a slim crack in the door, "Who's there?"

A weary blue eye peered out. Half hidden beneath bush-like white eyebrows that resembled the horned owls of Seven.

"Mr...um...Fields. It's... Hazel Marlowe." She swallowed. "I think we both know why I'm here."

The lone eye fixed on her, and she swore she saw a hint of water collecting at the corner. With a loud thwack, the door slammed shut between them.

Hazel sighed and glanced back at Bellona.

"Maybe we should go," the Peacekeeper said, relief seeping from her pores.

Just as Hazel was about to concede, the door swung back open with a gruff, "Come in."

An elderly man in an out-of-fashion, fraying suit stood hunched at the threshold.

"Mr Fields...I..."

"Come in, I said."

Hazel and Bellona began to move, but the man's hand raised, halting them. With a jab of a gnarled finger, he pointed at the Peacekeeper, "Not you."

"No deal, sir," Bellona argued as her eyes steeled. "Where she goes, I go."

The look he gave Bellona was so fiery that Hazel could almost feel it singe the hairs on her arms. "No peacekeeper will set foot in this house until I am six feet under."

"Marlowe, let's leave."

Hazel pleaded, "Bells, please."

The guard shook her head, voice softening to a whisper. "The senator gave very specific instructions."

"He'll get over it," Hazel argue-whispered back. Placing her unblemished hand on Bellona's shoulder, she begged. "Please just wait outside."

Bellona's gruff exterior cracked, and with a curse-filled grumble, she conceded.

Mr. Fields opened the door wider, allowing Hazel to slip in. She cast another what she hoped was a placating grimace at her peacekeeper guard. "Be right out."

Bellona suddenly shoved the barrel of her gun in the closing door as she met the old man's eyes. "If she's not or if I get any sense she is in danger, it will be more than one peacekeeper in this house." Her voice deepened to bedrock. "Forget six feet under. I'll make it sixty. Am I clear?"