Nothing

Nine

The sniper pressed against the corner of the wall, attempting to see whatever lurked beyond with his weapon. But it was too dark, he realized as he lowered it again. There was only one way - or two ways; he'd have to confront, or they'd have to confront.

While the sniper was trained to be patient, it was no small thing to know, as the moon rose, darkness settling in on an old building, where you planned to take shelter in, that a possible enemy could be lurking within.

He considered the possibilities while he also considered what to do.

It was not unheard of, humans, his own kind, turning on the rest of man to go their own way. They'd lost faith in us, but the only way to fight this war was united. Another possibility was one of those smaller beasts; the ones that walked on two legs and spun around an electric sword.

He hoped it was the former.

Finally, the sniper spun around, leaping across the corridor to behind a dresser that seemed out of place - must have been moved - and called out,

"Please, come out! I do not want to fight!"

For a moment, it seemed silent, until there was some shuffling in front of him, and he glanced from behind the dresser. A shape, a human shape that wore the same clothing as he; dark blue-black clothing. The only difference was the ski mask that they wore.

Leaning backwards, into his shelter, he called out again.

"Response?"

It was forever, it seemed, until the quiet response arrived; also confirming that the human was female; "I do not want to harm, and I am no deserter, either."

Deserter.

That was what he was.

He pushed his thoughts back in behind his head and answered,
"Me too. Do you know where the nearest camp is?"

The other one; the Skier, he decided on a nickname, paused.

"I do, but I would rather we speak within the basement."

The sniper moved into view, though he kept a tense posture. This was another comrade, but he wasn't sure who to trust at this point.
"Alright."

The Skier motioned for him to follow into another room, a storage room. She lifted an old, grey mat up to reveal a door, and opened it, nodding him to move in. The Sniper looked back, then headed down the ladder, followed by the Skier, who seemed to have received a lantern, which improved his view. He stood around for a moment before realizing the Skier stood by a table. Pulling out a chair, he sat down and looked into the reflection of the lantern in the Skier's mask.

"So, you are a sniper?" She questioned.

"Yes, I assume you are too?"

The only answer was a nod.

"Where did you come from?" Freezing up, the Sniper realized; he'd forgotten. What was he supposed to say?

Without thinking, he fired back a response.

"Across the Death Field."

If he could see her eyes, she would look somewhat interested and shocked. She shifted back, taking in this info.

"So from Winter Crow? The base, Winter Crow?"

On automatic response, he nodded.

"Winter Crow.. We lost contact with them, I was sent to check to see what had occurred..so, what happened?"

"Our radio tower was knocked down and prevented us from using any other forms of communication during a bad storm. I was out on a mission when it occurred..I'd rather not repeat the events that happened after." He told a lie. It wasn't bad; after all, no one but himself survived the Winter Crow Sickness. And he was doing it to defend himself from being labeled traitor, nothing wrong with that.

A few minutes passed when the Skier took out a compass and slid it across the table.

"South of here," she spoke, "there is a camp. Lots of French speakers there but say 'I am the one who lurks, the one who seeks, but the one who defends' once you meet the border guard. That should help you get set up."

"And you?"

The Skier looked up.

"I received another mission a few days ago that was to patrol this area. I will be staying here until I receive another shift."

The Sniper nodded.

"Then thanks for your assistance. I do hope to repay you, someday."

Again, the only answer was a nod, but he did not see any offence from it.

"Thank you."