Chapter 10: Built Differently

The final segment of the statue's pedestal in the Reception Hall sank into the ground, just as the second part had before. This time, however, it revealed a passage behind a small, barred gate.

Rick turned to say something but stopped when he saw Claire and Marvin arguing.

The officer sounded terribly weak. Rick gave him less than an hour before he turned. “It’s too late… for me, Claire. Go with Rick… Get out of here… Save yourself.”

“I can’t just leave you—”

The high volume of Claire’s voice did a poor job of hiding her sadness. She knew Marvin was doomed, but she refused to accept it.

“Kid.”

Understanding it was his turn to act, Rick forcefully grabbed Claire by the back of her collar and dragged her toward the secret exit. She shouted for him to let go and tried to pry his hand away, but failed. Rick tossed a pair of handcuffs to Marvin, who still had just enough strength to catch them.

“Thank you,” he heard the officer whisper.

As the duo reached the room beyond the gate, the pedestal slid back into place. It made the room, some kind of small office, secure, but it also meant they couldn’t go back. That fact infuriated Claire. The moment Rick released her, she moved as far from him as the space allowed.

“You had no right to do that!”

Rick ignored her, setting his bag on the desk and rummaging inside for food. “You know he’ll turn soon. So did he. Staying behind was his way of not putting us in danger. Of not forcing us into the position of putting him down.”

“That’s not—”

He cut her off, his tone firm but not loud. “It was his choice.” He pulled out a few chocolate bars. “The least you can do is respect it. Respect him.” He turned, leaned against the desk, and tore open the wrapper.

The act made her even angrier. To her, it seemed so cold, so careless. As if what had just happened meant nothing to him. “How can you eat when Marvin—”

She stopped mid sentence when he tossed a chocolate bar toward her. It bounced off her chest and fell to the floor.

“Because I need my strength. In case you forgot, I’m injured. I lost a lot of blood. I’ve been running myself into the ground for the past week, and I’ve spent the last three hours making sure you stay alive. I won’t last if I don’t get some energy back. Neither will you. This place is secure. We can take a real break.”

Claire’s fury receded into anger, then guilt, and finally sadness. Silently, she crouched to pick up the chocolate bar. After staring at it for a few seconds, she stood and opened it. Inwardly, she admitted Rick was right. She was hungry. She was tired. She wouldn’t make it far without food.

As she ate, a thought occurred to her. She swallowed and asked, “What about Leon? How’s he going to escape if the way is closed?”

“I don’t know. But the medallions are on the other side, so he should be able to open it. Or…” He gestured with his chin toward something behind her.

She turned and saw a bright red valve. Instructions for its use were drawn on the wall above it.

“Do you have the tool for that?”

“No.”

Claire deflated, her shoulders slumping, but she said nothing. So far, they had found everything they needed to move forward. It wasn’t wrong to hope the crank was here somewhere.

They ate in silence. As she finished her last bite, Rick tossed her another bar. He was already on his third. Claire picked up her walkie talkie and tried to contact Leon, but to no avail. The surrounding walls were too thick. It didn’t help her mood.

Uncomfortable with the silence and not yet ready to apologize, Claire decided to ask the questions Rick had avoided in the STARS office.

“You never answered me,” she began, getting his attention. “How you know about the cervical vertebrae. That’s pretty advanced knowledge for a street kid. No offense.”

Rick took his time chewing, his eyes fixed on hers. He only spoke after swallowing. “None taken.” He lowered what was left of his chocolate bar. “The town library.”

The answer surprised her so much she repeated it. “The library?”

Rick nodded slowly. “One of the librarians was kind to me. Let me look at books even though I looked like, well, a homeless kid. I read a lot. I dropped out of school at twelve, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to make something of myself. Learning on my own was easy. Once I was done with high school level material, I dove into harder subjects. I planned to pay my way through community college. Computer science or medicine. I had everything ready to get my GED.”

Claire blinked. “Your GED? How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

His age surprised her. When he’d worn the medical mask, she’d thought he was around her age. Seeing his whole face, he’d seemed older, but not by much. A cold, guilty weight settled in her stomach. She’d been leaning on him, following his lead, trusting her life to someone two years younger. The realization shamed her.

‘No wonder he looks older,’ she thought. ‘A whole week of this would age anyone.’

Another question formed, but Rick was already wiping his hands on his pants. When he began searching his bag again, she knew question time was over.

First, he discarded his cleaver. It amazed her that, from the look of it, it hadn’t shattered already. A replacement took its place in the holster at his lower back. He removed his utility belt and set it aside. Next came the ammunition boxes, two handguns, and five magazines, all neatly organized.

He inspected each component with a detached, routine focus. Magazines were emptied, springs tested with a thumb, rounds counted aloud in a low murmur before being reloaded in precise sequences. He worked the slide of each pistol, listening to the action, his thumb checking the tension of the recoil spring before he dry-fired it at the floor, noting the click of the hammer. His movements were efficient and ingrained, each step serving a clear purpose: checking feed lips for stress marks, ensuring the extractor wasn’t chipped, wiping down every surface with a cloth from his bag.

To Claire it was obvious someone had trained him but who? Another question to which the answer was likely “thanks to my friend, Jugs” she thought.

Once satisfied, he stored one gun and grabbed his utility belt. The hammer, screwdrivers, and other tools were put away, replaced by the magazines and the gun he kept.

Claire finished her food and did the same. Unlike him, she didn’t have much to check. Her revolver was full, as was her speedloader. The grenade launcher had an incendiary round chambered, with a dozen more on her bandolier.

Scanning the room, she found two more incendiary rounds on a side shelf and stored them in a pouch. No matter how much she looked, there was nothing else of use.

“You ready?”

Claire looked at her partner and nodded. His bag was on his shoulders, his utility belt around his waist. It was time to move through the passage on the right. Before that, she had something to say.

“I’m sorry. For lashing out. I knew you were right, but…” She struggled to explain how his clinical coldness had felt so wrong.

“I get it. I understand why you were pissed. It’s not like I hate Marvin. He was always cool with me, no matter what trouble I got into. I’m just built differently than you are. Or maybe what I went through in July, and this past week, messed me up more than I thought. I won’t lie. When you live on the streets, you look after yourself first or you die. You don’t attach yourself to anything or as little as possible. You adapt, you roll with the punches, you go with the flow and where the wind blows. You don’t have the luxury to stop and stare, or think, or feel. Bad things happen when you do.”

Claire said nothing, but she felt she understood him a little better. It didn’t suddenly change her opinion of him, but she saw where he was coming from.

“I don’t think we’ll change how we react to things,” she said quietly, “but I’ll apologize afterward if I’m wrong.”

Rick gave her a small smile. “So will I.”

The conversation ended there. Claire took the lead. The recess on the right revealed an old elevator, barely spacious enough for two people. Without hesitation, they stepped inside and began their descent.