The Underground

Chapter 9.1: The Others

Vivian led the way, lingering a few meters behind the woman just in case. They wound their way down streets and blocks, seeming to move at random – almost as if she knew she was being followed and was trying to subtly shake them.

A particular turn onto a busy intersection caused the trio to lose her. Shuffling bodies with low hanging heads moved past each other, but the woman and her flowing blonde locks were nowhere to be seen. Vivian's eyes widened in alarm as she swept the area with thorough intent, trying to identify the muted, sad soul of the woman. "I can't find her," she muttered, meeting Dominic's expectant gaze, "Everyone here's so fucking sad – she blends in."

Brienne pushed between the other two, breaking the connection and ruining the stealth. She took several sharp inhales, eyes narrowing attentively.

"You smell something girl?" Dominic asked dryly, a thick eyebrow raised in questioning and annoyance. A disapproving frown pulled down Brienne's features and she looked like she might very well punch him but seemed to decide better.

Or maybe decided that was for later.

Either way, she nodded and took off running, ducking between people with graceful ease. Vivian groaned in reluctance then followed at a much slower pace, Dominic shortly behind her. Brienne was much easier to follow with that blinding glow.

After a few minutes of running, the wolf came to a stop at a broad concrete staircase leading downwards. A ragged sign, stained by age and weather, read Embarcadero Station. Vivian came screeching to a halt beside her a few seconds later, sucking in air after the sudden sprint.

"Not a good place to be," Brienne muttered, glancing over to see her companions eyeing the sign with the same discomfort.

"You sure she came down here, Bri?"

"Yeah."

Vivian shrugged away hesitation, confidently approaching the stairs. "Let's go then."

She trotted down the steps easily, dodging suspect plastic bags and trash scattered on the dirty stairs. The Bay Area Rapid Transit system, more commonly called BART, had long been shut down. But the tracks and their stations remained, notably under patrolled by the San Francisco police.

They reached the bottom of the stairs easily, the defunct ticket stations greeting them with rust and bloodstains. Vivian hopped over the closed gates, moving to the second set of stairs that lead down and to the tracks themselves.

Water trickled down the concrete walls and to the floor, never from a discernable place but always pooling on the ground. The dampness left a heavy taste in the air, musty and grotesque.

From the top of the stairs, the peaks of makeshift tents and plywood buildings could be seen, covering what remained of the old tracks. The tracks lined each side of the underground structure, splitting off into four tunnels with a large platform dividing the two sections. The lights built into the station itself had long been turned off, but new standing ones were erected at seemingly random locations, resulting in large patches of almost perfect darkness.

The place was shockingly populated, many bodies curled up under tarps and behind weak plywood walls. Supplies and garbage lay scattered around, some people anxiously digging through them while others merely sat by themselves in dark and lonesome silence.

The most active area was by far at the back of the platform. Vivian couldn't quite make out what was going on, but loud voices indicated some sort of disagreement.

As the trio descended into the murky depths, Vivian was struck with the sudden and intense sensation of being watched. Not by one or two but by an army – a sea of red gleaming eyes staring her down without a blink between them.