She turned, spotting a large hanging map with a list of coordinates written on a poster below it. The poster read Weather Shelter Network, and listed other shelter locations. Red dots on the map above marked where they were situated across a vast geographical area. She took out her PRD and imaged the coordinates, then the map.
Another open doorway was set in the opposite wall, and she passed through to the last room. Four cots took up half the room, with folded, warm-looking blankets at the foot of each. A small sink, toilet, and a strange space with a protruding nozzle stood on the other side. Nearby were a small table, a few chairs, and some dishes and utensils.
She sat down on one of the chairs, an old green one. She took her bag off her shoulder, then removed her soaked coat. A chill set in at once, so she glanced around for a heat source. Against one wall was a small box with a lever. She walked toward it. The bottom of it sported numbers: 50, 60, 70, 80. The lever moved a red needle up and down across them. It was an ancient kind of thermostat, she realized, controlled by an old analog lever. She set it to seventy, then sat back down, draping her wet coat over another chair. It felt good to sit, to have the weight of her bag off her. She dug through her belongings and pulled out her PRD, checking for messages. Willoughby hadn’t contacted her about the Rovers. She would have to wait here. Glancing around the shelter, she wondered if she could find a clue on her own.
Returning to the initial room, she took a cursory inventory of all the MREs. So much food filled the shelves that her stomach starting rumbling just looking at it all. She chose a dinner that was said to simulate something spelled fettuccine alfredo, and returned to the little kitchen. Inside one of the drawers, she found a wicked-looking knife. It wasn’t a simple food knife, but had the kind of handle that looked like it would be good in a fight. The blade gleamed, and the edge felt sharp. She decided to stash it in her tool bag.
She returned to the table and began to eat, staring at the shelf of books. She realized they held information, like an ancient form of a PRD. If she still hadn’t heard from Willoughby by tomorrow, she’d start going through them.
After finishing her dinner, she rose from the little table and made her way to one of the beds, taking the old, depleted PRD with her. She found a portable UV charging station on a small bedside table and laid the PRD on top of it. Then she spread out the blankets and placed two pillows at the head of a bed. Stretching out, she wrapped herself up in the warm blanket. She sent a theta wave message to the lights to turn them off, but they remained on. Then she said, “Lights,” hearing her own voice for the first time in days. Nothing happened. A small lamp burned on the bedside table, which she examined for an analog switch. Near the base, she found a button and pressed it. Darkness flooded in. She lay back on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter 13
She awoke with a start, sitting upright in bed. Her eyes stared in the darkness, her heart suddenly skittering. She didn’t know what woke her up, but she felt that something was in the weather shelter with her.
Her hands fumbled for the small lamp by the bed and switched it on. Welcome light flooded the room, and H124 cast off the blanket, jumping to her feet. Her heart pounded so fast that all she could hear was blood rushing through her ears.
What was that she heard? Her body shook. Had the Repurposers found her? Or was it the nightly hunters?
She listened. A faint noise came, a kind of scratching, some distance away. She tiptoed toward the sound. It grew louder in the kitchen, and more so in the first room, where the MREs were stashed.
She strained her ears. More scratching, like someone trying to get into the shelter. She pressed her ear against the door. The sound wasn’t coming from there. She moved along the wall, realizing that something was inside it. She heard more scratching, then desperate scrambling, followed by a crash. She leaped back, hand flying to her chest.
Something was in there.
After a moment of silence, she put her ear against the door again. On the other side, rain muffled all other sounds.
The scratching was higher and closer. Snapping her head up, she saw an air vent above the door. Something moved inside.
She recoiled.
A flash of gray fur pressed against the grating, then vanished. The scratching receded. The hole above the door held only a deep blackness. She stared, backing up against the shelves full of food.
Then the scrambling got louder, and she saw the flash of fur again. A thick, viscous red dripped down the outside of the vent. She bent over it. Blood.
A tiny sniffling came from the ductwork, a sad, lost sound. The fur turned, and suddenly she saw a little face staring out at her. Intense black eyes met her own, as a tiny pink nose sniffed at the grate.
It was clearly an animal, but she didn’t know what the hell it was. She merely stood there, blinking at the creature. It gave another long, pitiful sniff. Then it vanished, its little feet pattering away. A low wheeze sounded, and the creature returned.
It was trapped in the vent.
H124 stood still, not sure what to do. She’d seen things other than humans before. But those were tiny: maggots on corpses, flies buzzing about the air over decomposed bodies. Roaches in the subbasements where the workers
