A Touch of Hope

Chapter 16 - The Sea Breeze

Flipsey's legs ached by the time he arrived at the resistance headquarters. He kept up a fast pace all the way from his home as he'd been keen to get away from the visions that had haunted him and was wary of being seen. Ever since Amelia had been caught 8 long months ago, the regime had cracked down on them and they were starting to buckle.

The long route had taken Flipsey indirectly into the docks district. Ever sine the Pax Plague, the area had been mostly closed and boarded up. The mess of buildings and winding alleys had become a hive for criminal activity. This had led to almost constant patrols by police officers such as Flipsey, making their work increasingly difficult. Fortunately, Flipsey knew the locations of the patrols at that moment in time so knew the coast was clear. He was perfect positioned within the police for his role as head of the resistance.

Seagulls wheeled overhead, their cry like alarm bells, calling out an imminent danger. Even so close to the coast, the heat would not let up. Even the sea breeze that rolled in from the east was scorching and dry. It whistled between the rough cracks of the warehouse that Flipsey now stood in front of. Moss and ivy webbed up the red brick walls, leaching onto the uneven stones, worming its way through the cement. The boarded windows of rotting, mossy wood and the sandstone slate roof the sloped up into the sky helped the building blend into the countless other buildings in the district that were identical.

With a quick, customary glance over his shoulder, Flipsey pushed through the decaying door, it's hinges groaning under the strain.

Inside the warehouse was just as inconspicuous as outside. Dust rained down from the rafters 10 meters above Flipsey's head as the building shifted and settled. It was occasionally accompanied with a bang or a clatter that could be blamed on settling or an animal, Flipsey hoped. The floor was made of densely packed earth pressed down to muffle all sounds yet coated by a thin layer of dust that would kick up and float through the air whenever someone walked through it. The walls inside were just as coarse and chipped as outside but lacked any greenery as the roots had not yet infiltrated inside. The tall, boarded windows continued to creak as the wind whistled through them but they stayed strong, shielding the warehouse from the outside world. The warehouse was mostly clear, long gone and used up were most of the large shipping crates that had once filled the room, a mottled splash of colour in the otherwise dusty floor. Only in one far corner did around 30 large wooden crates still sit, neatly stacked against the walls in an 'L' shape. The dust around the boxes was thick and untouched in an almost perfect 20-meter circle, almost as though people avoided entering that corner.

Greg emerged from behind the door, the soft light that passed between the cracks in the boards gently illuminated his slightly singed grey hair and dark rings under his eyes. His face showed signs of wear following the last few weeks and months but he still wore his lopsided smile, only broken as he stepped forward, held out a hand and moved as if to say the words Flipsey longed to hear.