52 Lie, Lie, Lie

Ika pockets his radio and makes his way around the edge of the crowd. When he gains sight of parked vehicles, he begins to jog toward the packed lot. He finds Marcus arguing with a guard. The guard is gripping the young man's forearm and holding it up to his chest. Marcus is forced to stand on the tips of his toes.

"No. I wasn't ordered here, but I have a good reason...I'm not just wandering around," Marcus kicks at the aggressive guard's shin, "I'm looking for something! Let go!"

The behemoth is unphased by the kick.

"Then tell me what you're looking for. Odd, that you say you're not trespassing and I got a message to look out for an unknown person wandering around," the guard pulls out his radio.

"I feel profiled. I'm being profiled!"

"What? What are you talking about?" the guard frowns and shakes Marcus's arm, "Answer the question. What are you looking for?"

Marcus winces at the tight grip, "You don't have to be so violent with me. I didn't do anything! There must be a real intruder and you're wasting your time with me."

"How about you—"

"Good, you've found him," Ika walks over to the pair.

The guard turns around and yanks Marcus along as he acknowledges Ika, "Brown jacket, unknown face, sir. Is this the thief?"

"No, thief? Just rounding up a lost merchant. Good work," Ika nods at the guard.

The guard nods back and releases his hold on Marcus. Marcus stumbles forward a few steps and rubs his forearm. He stops beside Ika and sneers at the large guard.

The guard hooks a thumb in his belt and sneers at Marcus, "I could escort him to the Merchant quarters, sir. This one can be a handful."

"I've got it," Ika waves the guard away.

"He's got it," Marcus says and copies Ika's hand movements out of sight above his head.

The guard glares at Marcus and moves his hand to his side to grip his gun. Marcus takes a step behind Ika and raises his eyebrows.

"I said, I've got it from here," Ika glares at the guard.

The guard relaxes his grip on his gun and nods again at his superior before he jogs back over to his post. His short ponytail is the last thing seen as he disappears past an armored black Hummer.

Ika turns to the younger man, "So, what were you looking for?"

"What?"

Ika frowns at him and waits for an answer. Marcus's brows meet and he scratches at the top of his head.

"Well, the thing is. I don't know where the beat up truck we came here in went. I thought it would be easy to spot, and got lost."

"Follow me," Ika leads the way through the maze of vehicles.

Marcus stays a step behind the quick man, "I..uhh..I don't need anything. I'm not trying to find something I lost. It's just I left it behind and couldn't find the truck. It's not mine, but that man during the attack gave it to me, and I didn't think I could sleep before I..."

Ika abruptly stops and Marcus collides with his back. They stumble forward a step. Marcus grabs Ika's shoulders to straighten up and Ika elbows the other man away from him.

"Ouch," Marcus breaks away from the other, "Sorry. Why'd you stop so quick?"

Ika gives Marcus a blank stare and dusts off a shoulder. Before them is the hole-ridden armored truck they'd exited not thirty minutes before.

"Oh," Marcus clasps his hands together and tips his head toward Ika in gratitude, "Thanks."

Ika turns away from the truck and pulls out his radio to call in that the search is over. Marcus climbs into the truck. The hornet's body is just as they'd left it. The wings are crushed under the red and yellow body.

Marcus sits beside the remains on a metal bench and scans the floor. Ika turns to him after he completes his radio message. Ika raises an eyebrow and frowns at the mysterious merchant, "Can't find something?"

Marcus nervously smiles and rubs his sweaty palms on his knees, "Well, no. I found it. It's just...," he motions at the hornet remains.

"Hurry it up, so I can bring you to the Merchant quarters," Ika taps his empty wrist.

Marcus blinks down at the other male and swallows. He steps over the hornet remains and moves the winged corpse with the steel tip of his boot. The vicious amber blood coats the boot. A squishing sound emits from the corpse's back as it is raised off the floor.

Marcus grimaces and pulls his foot away. The body thuds back down on the floor. Marcus rubs his hands on his thighs and steps over to the other side of the corpse. He looks down for a long moment.

Ika ignores the other man and sits on the bumper of a car beside the damaged truck. He pulls out his radio and presses the scan button to search for any information broadcasts.

A look of triumph crosses Marcus face before he frowns and concentrates on his new task. Marcus kneels on the floor and reaches underneath the metal bench welded to the wall. He retrieves a long bundle of white cloth. The stained sheet almost unravels again.

"Woah!" Marcus exclaims as he catches the bundle between his legs before it rolls to the floor.

He ties up the loose ends with two knots and holds the bundle against his chest. Ika rises from the bumper when he hears the loud exclamation and walks back over to the truck.

"What is it?" Ika is holding his radio to his ear.

He lowers his radio when he sees what Marcus is holding.

"I didn't think I could sleep before your friend got buried. I don't think anyone remembered in the rush," he adjusts his grip on the bundle and hops out of the back, "It'd be a shame to leave them behind here with the hornet."

Ika turns off his radio and puts it back on his waist clip.

"Follow me," Ika stomps off to exit the car lot area.

"Uuh..sure," Marcus follows while taking a good look at where they exited the car lot.

They head toward the entrance of the vehicle depot. Ika is a few meters ahead of Marus when the gated entrance to the underground garage comes within sight.

Sand is flying around at the entrance. The four guards are wearing green scarves over their faces while they sit in lawn chairs several meters away out of range of the storm. Night vision goggles are slid over their eyes. They are armed with rifles, and even while relaxed their hands remain holding their weapons. They are talking amongst themselves and staring into the dark, noisy night.

The metal gate is spiked and wires are twisted around its outer frame. Marcus can see the wires trail along the concrete floor off to the side to a few batteries.

"Stop there," Ika shouts to Marcus before jogging over to one of the guards.

Marcus adjusts his grip on the bundle and holds his chin up to breath some cleaner, less death smelling, air.

'10 mins, you said?'

AFFIRMATIVE

Ika strides back over from speaking with the guards and motions for Marcus to come forward.

"We'll leave her with these guys. They know what to do," Ika reaches out and takes the bundle from Marcus.

"Oh...uh...it's not heavy. I can finish carrying..."

"I've got her," Ika glares up at Marcus before turning and carrying the body over to the guards.

The guards ignore Ika as he walks over to the left of the entrance into the range of the storm. The wind rustles his blonde hair as he walks across to a shadowed corner. He crouches down and places the body gently to the floor. He splays his fingers out on the stained sheet and bows his head.

Marcus walks over to the guards.

He stops behind a wide man with some grey hair peeking out the neck of his scarf, "How long do you think this will last?"

At first, the man doesn't answer and Marcus thinks he spoke too softly. He opens his mouth to repeat the question when the guard replies, "No one can say. One day or five."

Marcus frowns and nods, "Oh. Okay, I get it. Unpredictable."

"Yeah," another guard joins in, "and even if this were to last a day it might just be a short lull before it picks up again. I hate this weather. I'll never get used to it."

"Used to be a fair here about this time," another guard says before turning away from the storm and looking at Marcus.

"A fair? Where?"

"Oh man," the three other guards groan.

"Used to be a fair just a few blocks from here, and you know that's what this place is named after," the standing guard motions to the storm outside with his rifle, "Wallace Allen Rode The Sy-clone."

"We keep telling you cyclone starts with a "C", not an "S"," one guard shouts.

"Why the hell would it be named Wallace Allen rode a...Why would the boss name the place after you?"

"I'm a great guard. I've been here since the beginning. At first, there was no name. Then after all the jobs were assigned. The name "W.A.R.T.S" was announced...that's not a coincidence," Wallace settles back down onto his lawn chair.

"That's a crap name if ever there was one," a guard mutters.

Marcus chuckles at the conversation.

"Ask the boss. We're buds. I know how precious I am to him," Wallace declares with his chin up and crosses his legs.

"Lower your voice, you idiot. He's praying," a guard shouts at Wallace.

Marcus's smirk fades as he looks over to Ika. The man is walking over to them. His blue scarf is pulled up over his nose.

"Let's go," Ika's muffled voice says as he walks by the group.

"Uhh," Marcus waves to the backs of the seated guards and catches up to his guide.

"To the Merchant quarters?" Marcus matches his speed with his guide.

Ika grunts and continues facing forward with his scarf still placed over his nose. Marcus slows down and follows from behind. He turns his head and notes every turn.

The "Merchants Quarters" within the underground garage is just a few cots in a far corner away from the other dwellers. There is a black sheet hung between two cement beams that marks off the section. Twelve slim cots are settled closely together with a wool blanket dropped on each cot. Six of the twelve beds are occupied.

Ika stops under the black sheet and waves toward the cots, "Here you are."

"Uh, where do I—," Marcus starts but Ika is already stomping off somewhere else. "Never mind."

He walks over to a cot near the entrance and picks up the rough wool blanket. When he stretches it out before himself he realizes it will only cover him up to his knees.

"Sigh, of course," Marcus rolls the blanket into a pillow and puts it at the head of the bed.

He lays down on the cot and ignores the creaking of the springs. He must bend his legs at the knee and turn on his side so his entire body is supported by the bed. It's been a while since he's had to sleep in a bed made for someone a foot shorter than him. Dirt from the bottom of his boots shakes off onto the faded sheets.

He closes his eyes, but his mind continues to work overtime about his current problem. Their current problem.

'How's it look out there? Can you still see her?'

NEGATIVE