Primal Gambit

Chapter 56: The Couple Tracks the Kidnapper

The wind in the night was cold – biting. It carried with it the essence of betrayal and unwritten ends. The Dark City was illuminated this night, the wartime factories shut down for a time due to strike. An entire cities' worth of the war machine came to a halt due to the underpaid, mistreated laborers. Most of their duties had been replaced by mechanized machinery, though the overseers and yard employees had felt their duties had gone unrecognized. It was one of the few nights the city didn't seem derelict – ghastly.

Underground a harrowing chase ensued. After the professor had been taken from the hands of Valerie and Doerrman they were immediately on the trail, tracking the Siberian to where they believed he was going. As they understood it, all ties were to end at the same warehouse. That was how the warrior saw it. Once Vikhr absconded with the bounty, the two were close behind. It wouldn't be long now until all the closed doors open, all questions answered.

The couple knew that Vikhr had no means of transportation to traverse The Dark City, thus, taking to the elaborately automated subway systems – filled with alien luminescence and pre-described destinations. It was down there in the packed underworld that their chase would continue.

They sprinted down the clogged escalator stairs, moving between scores of civilians and the luggage they carried. Valerie found it strange there, seeing all their faces – what hid behind the masks in broad daylight. Underneath, people had the chance to breathe in the fumes. The humanitarian in her sparked and she couldn't help but stare at the varied faces that for so long she simply assumed were all the same – all that she thought bore the same semblance, the similar sternness and lack of emotion. With the light shining down upon them, she saw the difference in them all. They were still people.

The tunnels grew colder the deeper they dragged. Vikhr had to have been just a few trains ahead, since Doerrman didn't stay grounded for long once he had been whipped by the grip of the pistol. With Valerie's help he was up and bounding out of the wharf in under an hour's time. She patched his temple where the shooter cracked him, a possible skull fracture he didn't have the time to inspect. The current bandaging would have to do: a tourniquet created from spare fishing line and gauze.

Once the two left the tunnel and moved into the station they scanned the wall-projected screen of rapidly flowing train numbers and arrival times. Doerrman looked to Valerie and she knew why. She needed to recall from the phone call with Darwin around which area the warehouse was located. Seconds passed like hours as their quarry gained distance. Nervous tears began to well under her eyes as she struggled to recall in which quadrant of The Dark City the warehouse lied.

"Well?" Doerrman pressed, tapping his foot in agitated tension to push forward.

When it came to her, they were at once on the move, scanning their cards and rushing towards the train that was about to leave. Sparks poured from beneath the wheel-well as the frozen giant began to slowly pick up speed. Metal screeching pierced their ears as unseen exhaust pipes blew fumes into the column. The two made it into the last car just as the doors squealed shut. The cramped funnel of steel lent no room to sit down as the two stood between masses of people and barely grasped onto a scratched metal pole.

Each turn in the tracks rattled their innards as they struggled to keep hold. Doerrman looked to the nearest wall, which presented an old-era map of the tunnel system – the cracked, yellowed plastic was eaten away at the corners. In his mind, he quickly pinpointed the designated stops the train would have to make, each one sinking his esteem further into the dregs. Before he lashed out his worry towards Valerie, he buried it deep. If they had to make the stops, Vikhr would have to just the same.

There was still a chance to catch him.

If Doerrman could have hijacked the subway train without being caught he would have. There was too much at stake for him to risk it, and so he stood – body convulsing with the jolting car that made its way down the winding tracks. When he looked towards Valerie, his view was disrupted by the crimson ink that slid down his brow, cascading from the bridge of his nose and into his eyes.

He could smell the metallic tinge, the rawness of flesh under the saturated gauze. Already the blood had begun to encrust the edges of the makeshift tourniquet; replacing it would be a hazardous feat within the shifting car.

"Jesus, Rid." She whispered, squirming between people to get closer, to put a worn hand on his cheek.

"It's fine. We'll take care of it later." He grunted, holding his temple tightly. There was an unsettling feel to it, as though he were holding his head together. Adrenaline had taken over. He did not even feel the pain anymore, besides what could only be described as a slight headache. Deep down the withered soldier knew it was much worse than that.

Valerie's burnt red hair glistened in the alien light and bobbed against her shoulders with the movement of the car. Every time a train would crash by in the opposite direction, wind on forgotten ventilation ducts pushed her hair astray. Doerrman watched her tie it into a ponytail in a frustrated sigh of exhaustion. It took every ounce of her being to look strong before her counterpart, though at any moment she could have burst into tears.

None of this would have happened if she simply listened to what he had told her. In part, she blamed her own ego, unable to give up on a mission that from the beginning seemed like such an easy task with the enlisted aid of her man. The other end of her blamed the naivety in her actions throughout the past. Doerrman would not have been hurt had they simply escaped before ever going into Marcotte in the first place.

The decisions she had made forced her down with the immense weight on her shoulders. It was visible even in her stature. What was once a bright young lady had since turned into a tired and sorrowful soul. There would be no resolution for this; she would forever be unable to find forgiveness in herself. She regretted everything she had done: every tunnel, every sewer that she had ever dragged Doerrman through.

Still, when she lifted her eyes to meet his, he bore a diminished – yet still hopeful smile.