Primal Gambit

Chapter 40: Renault Seeks Shelter

Clearway was a haunting place: the type of metropolis that belonged only in someone's nightmare. It was the hub with the densest population of gang violence and the trafficking of both weapons and drugs. Even with these statistics, Clearway was the safest of the three boroughs that surrounded Pittsburgh. It was a haven for the chemically-dependent junkies who could afford to keep a needle in their arm. It was separating itself from the definition of borough, clinging more to the ideal of becoming a dwarf city. Other than Charnel Hill, Clearway had become the area victim to the highest number of Marcotte abductions. Entire apartment complexes overflowed with the drug-induced stupors of men who squatted within the buildings. It hadn't been destroyed to the same extent as Malgrove: hadn't succumbed to the overflow of junk from the confines of The Yard.

If a person could eke out an existence in Clearway, they were hardier because of it. Someone who could refuse the inclination to submerge into the lifestyle of drug abuse showed a true resilience. Some buildings were decrepit, some derelicts, while others touched the yellowed fog of the skies and housed many of the borough's inhabitants. In the depths of the underground ran tunnels that led out of the small city, though no one dared venture within due to various folk tales and legends of old. There were stories of women and children being stalked in the dark corridors, only to be taken away by the silence – though it wasn't Marcotte.

Topside, rumors circulated about a faction within Clearway that engaged in the human trade. It was often said that they performed business with the Marcotte raiding parties that parted the sky in their perilous Reapers. Regardless of Clearway's history, Renault had spent the last night making the pilgrimage there. It was difficult finding someone that was willing to bring him there, as most hired drivers tended to stay out of the surrounding burrows, much less The Yard itself. The civilians that the old spotter had spoken with began to illustrate a foreboding image as to how his stay would likely end.

It was the best he could afford, and from what he had learned about the other two boroughs Clearway seemed to be the safest bet. It was also his intention to begin tracking his prey, the beginning of which took place in the dwarf city, where the professor had initially been ensnared. He knew that Darwin was keeping things from him. It was already clear that the activist leader was a mysterious entity with his own agenda, though how Renault was imperative to that agenda, whatever plan Darwin conjured up in the confines of his respite still eluded the man who fought down the visions of his family.

"This very dangerous place." The driver warned as he inhaled the filtered air through the rubber mask. True to his position in life, he wore a cabbie hat atop the mask straps – his barreled chest covered by a burly wool sweater with a strange pattern. Upon first entering the car, Renault remembered the foolishly dumbfounded expression that crept across his face at the sight of numerous bullet holes. He wished the driver hadn't seen him.

Renault didn't respond as the scratched yellow car puttered through suffocating canals sculpted between the rubble. The frigid night air resulted with fogged lenses and dense breaths with every mechanical wheeze. He searched out the smudged window, over the hills of garbage – looking for anything. He awaited the moment he saw someone embellish a weapon at their hip, or some other beast the ex-soldier had yet to learn of. As a young child, Renault recalled looking into the rich forests, expecting to be the first one to see the mountain lion preparing to pounce; he vividly remembered hikes in state parks with his parents.

Going on hikes no longer existed, but the feeling of being watched definitely resided within him.

The automobile continued to carve a route through The Yard, the driver keen to the map he had duct-taped to the dashboard so he could make sure they took the shortest possible path. The night sky was dense, the vast array of smudges across the windowpanes making it near-impossible to see. Distanced laughter muffled through the ventilation ducts, making the two silent men wonder which direction it came from. Neither of them spoke: the driver so focused on making it to the destination alright; the passenger taking in as much of the world around him as the world around him would allow.