Adapt (I)

SCARLET

I don’t exactly know what sort of building I expected to be led to, but it definitely wasn’t the abattoir that closed down over a decade ago. I shudder as I watch Boe open the side door to let us in. It seems more than grotesque to be hiding these girls in a slaughterhouse.

It doesn’t help that my markings are pulsing with cold heat, telling me that Therians are near.

We enter the building. All three of us are on high alert.

Boe leads our group, gun pointed. Behind him is Trent, holding the same sort of gun. Boe explained that the bullets have shards of hunter’s daggers in them, giving them some potency against therians. I wish I could have given Trent a dagger, but Boe assured me in the car ride in this morning that Trent would hardly need to use his gun, let alone get close enough to have need of a dagger. I hope to God that he is right.

We move quickly through the building. Boe checks around every corner with the precise training only HQ could have given him. He gives Trent and I silent signals, letting us know it is safe to proceed and when we need to stop. He leads us down into a section of the building that was used for cleaning the meat, quartering and packaging it, ready for shipment to whatever grocer or butcher that it was intended for. The air has a sterile quality, at odds with the layer of grime and dust that has built up on the floors and walls. The memory of the smell of meat seems to hang in the air. Not quite strong enough to smell it for sure, but you know it is there, nonetheless. And the concrete floors and the tile walls chill the air.

Boe stops in front of a door and signals for Trent and I to flank it. Then he twists the doorknob and flings back the door. I brace for the loud bang of the door slamming against the wall, but it gives a muted thud instead.

Boe enters first, Trent second, and I follow up our line.

I scan the room. It is mostly dark, with no windows. Some florescent light emanates from the corner of the room. The room is littered with stainless steel benches and shelves. Some are set up around the illuminated area. A heavy feeling settles in my gut.

We take the long way around the room, checking for anything or anyone that might be hiding in the shadows. I take note that there is another door in this room as we wind around the benches. Satisfied that the room is clear, we proceed over to the lit part of the room cautiously.

When we are close enough for me to see through the shelves to what the lights illuminate, I cannot suppress the gasp that escapes my lips.

Eight girls lay on mattresses arranged haphazardly on the floor. Their clothes are in tatters, blankets strewn across them carelessly. Around their wrists and ankles are thin chains leading down to an anchor in the concrete ground.

I shove past Boe to go to the girl closest. She has mousy brown hair and rounded features. I fall to my knees and shake her shoulders. “Hey.” I say, desperately hoping that she responds. Instead, my shaking roles her onto her back, the blanket slipping off her body to reveal her swollen belly. My eyes widen and the heavy feeling in my gut turns to a ball of fire.

“We need to get them out of here.” Boe says.

“How?” I ask, already running possibilities in my mind.

“You and Trent will take two girls out at a time. I will stay and keep watch.”

I frown. “Where will we leave them?”

“Just hid them away somewhere and hope no one finds them before we can call in HQ. They are unconscious so they shouldn’t go anywhere before we can get back to them.”

“What about you?” I ask, worried about leaving Boe alone in case the Therians come in before Trent and I are back.

Boe looks around the warehouse and gives a grim smile. “I have fought off more therians before. I can handle myself until you guys get back.” He says, starting off reassuring, but ending his sentence with and edge of impatience.

I look back at the girls for another moment before nodding curtly. Without any more delay, I slam my dagger hilt down on the anchor that has all of the girls chained. The sound rings out in the room but doesn’t wake the girls. They must be under sedation. The anchor bends, and a break appears. Rather than attempting that again, I pick up some of the chains and pull, hoping that the anchor is weak enough to pull apart. I launch all of my weight into the pull, and I can feel the metal want to give but I just don’t have the weight to do it. Trent grabs the chains as well and helps me. His added weight and strength pulls the anchor apart and releases the chains. I gather up the chain tethering the round-faced girl and wiggle my arms under her. She isn’t heavy but her lulling form adds a sort of awkwardness to carrying her. Trent does the same, seeming a little more practiced in carrying the pale brunette. I guess having kids and a wife gives you training in a way you could never train for.

Boe takes up position. He presses his back against the wall, gun and dagger at the ready. From this position Boe has the most unobstructed view of the whole room and all of its exits. He knows that hiding is not an option, as the therians would have smelled our scent by the time they arrived at this room. Boe’s best bet is to get the drop on them as soon as they enter the room and take out as many as possible before they make it to him.

Trent and I wind our way back out of the slaughterhouse. It occurs to me that I will have to drop the girl if we are faced with a fight. I resolve that she would rather be dropped whilst unconscious and have a few bruises, than be chained in a slaughterhouse.

Thankfully it isn’t that far out of the slaughterhouse. Once we make it out, I see that dawn has broken on the horizon, lighting the sky in a pastel blue hue.

We trek a block away from the slaughterhouse and find an old white building with a side ally and side entrance door. The door is locked, but the doorway is inverted, giving these two girls cover. As long as they don’t happen to get up and walk away, they shouldn’t be spotted.

With a feeling of complete inadequacy, I turn and leave the two girls to get back into the slaughterhouse. As much as I hope I have done enough for these two girls, I also have six others that need rescuing as well.

Trent and I run back in with as much care as we dare. The halls of the slaughterhouse are still quiet, though I know that it won’t before too much longer.

Trent and I round through the doorway into the room where the girls were being held. I don’t even blink at the gun pointed at my head, who lets out a breath when he realizes it is us.

We repeat our actions, not stopping to chat or ponder. We stash the next two girls, who seem at least two years younger than me, in the alcove with the first two.

We run back in for the next round of girls, mentally thanking the Gods that we hadn’t been caught yet. At least fifteen minutes has passed since we found the girls, and no one has come and discovered Boe yet. As I finish that thought, a wash of ice trickles over my skin, telling me that my thanks are premature.