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Uno and Fog: Hunger Pains

August 10, 2019

The first thing I notice as I turn away from the broken window, is April still helping the two victims.  The second thing I notice is that her eyes flicker over each over the two of them.  It takes a moment for me to realize that her eyes are drawn to the various spots were the blood has soaked into the clothing, or where open wounds are exposed.

Her hands are shaking and I know it isn’t from hematophobia.

I place my hand on her shoulder, “Its enough.  Let’s go.”

She looks at me and her eyes are slightly unfocused, she licks her lips.

“We need to go.  Now.” I say it firmly, but quietly.

After a very long pause, she nods, jerkily.

She gets up, the two people are unconscious.  I see its as a good sign that there isn’t any blood on her lips or face.

There are people injured here and there in the restaurant, from fighting the panicked press of the crowd, but no one was trampled.

Once again I wish I could fly, instead of heading out with the crowd, we head over to the kitchen.  There’s always a service elevator near by for the food and other goods that need to be transported to the restaurant.  While the staff almost certainly used it, most people don’t think of it.

“Where are we going”  April asks as I lead her into the kitchen.

“Out the backdoor.”  There is food under the lamps, the stoves, grills and ovens are still on.  I turn them off as we head through the maze of pots and pans.  Plates and other items are scattered, sometimes broken, across the floor.  I am careful to keep from leaving any prints anyone, finger or foot.

The service elevator was where I expected it, and after waiting a few minutes we made out way down.  One of the most peculiar things about living in the city is that while people will flee ground zero, they will gather nearby to see what unfolds which has never seemed prudent especially in the age of internet and instant access and you can pretty much see everything from the safety of the home.

There is some kind of weird status display from saying, “I was there” and posting proof online.  There were long vines off the building trailing to ground level, as I suspected the woman had escaped and almost certainly headed into the park.  There was no way I was following someone into the natural equivalent of an armory for her abilities.

The police and emergency personal were finally heading our way so we slowly faded away from the crowd and head home while trying to look nonchalant.  One of the most important ways of doing that is to crane out necks as law enforcement drives by.  Other than furtive movements, nothing draws suspicion like keeping your head down when the normal human reaction is to gawk.

Once that is all well behind us, I say, “how hard is it?”

“Huh?”

“When you see blood.”

She swallows hard, “When its fresh and its been a while?  Very hard.”

“I thought so.”

She looks at me sideways, “were you seeing if I would lie?”

“Concerned if you were alright.”

That seems to satisfy her, “I’m o.k., but it is hard being close to it, and worse when I’m hungry.”

“Then lets get you back.”

 

 

 

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