The elevator came to a tremulous stop and the doors yawned open.
"Give me the gun," Fits urged, peeking out into the hazy space with narrowed eyes. Christia moved away from him.
"Why?"
"Because I think we can assume I'm a better shot," He muttered, hand out. Falteringly, she gave him the revolver. "Loaded?"
"Yes," She responded bitterly, rubbing her marred neck.
"Just...stay behind me, okay? There could be people here, or worse," Fitz whispered, motioning for her to follow him.
Did he really think her utterly incapable?
But she kept silent, for the sake of their lives, and followed him out into luggage processing.
Christia had been there less than a day ago, and it'd looked bad then. But now, it was worse, and a situation that seemingly couldn't get any worse had broken the gauge.
Through the sheet of fog that had settled a foot above the ground, she could see the silhouettes of bodies. There were dozens; blood was everywhere, splattered on the ground and suitcases and Seegson posters almost deliberately. Christia moved closer to Fitz instinctively. He kept his repose, though she knew that he was thinking the exact same thing as she.
It had been here.
"Don't look around, just keep moving," He breathed, gun held out like a crucifix.
But she couldn't ignore the bodies, or the smell of early decay or the heavy feeling of tension and danger that grew stronger with every step.
Fitz stopped at the top of the stairs. Twenty steps was all that stood between Christia and the transit cars.
"Why are we-"
"I hear something down there," He whispered. "Stay here, I'll go down and call the car."
"Why? I'm the one taking it."
"I'd rather be the one to outrun whatever may come around when the car gets here. You know how loud it is."
Doubt established itself, and distrust.
"Do you realize how that sounds?"
"I've given you no reason to be suspicious of me. I wasn't going to allow Woods to rob you, and I didn't let that synthetic crush your neck, now..." He wavered a moment, eyes darting all about the staircase, "Stay put, keep an eye on the elevator and I'll signal you when the car's here." Christia bit her lip, conflicted.
No time to argue.
"Be careful," The girl replied softly, and looked at Fitz. Really looked. "What's your real name? I mean, your full name?" For a small moment, his face beamed, and he looked as though the last ten days hadn't even come to pass.
"Albert Fitzpatrick." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't look so somber, you'll be with your parents soon."
His words filled her with inexplicable dread.
Christia watched him start down the stairs and wished that she could follow. The fog swallowed him near the bottom, and then he was gone. She looked over to the elevator nervously, looked at the synthetic ads flecked with blood, read the bold, bright words. You always know a Working Joe. Again and again, refusing to glimpse at the sea of corpses.
The grinds and beeps of the transit sounded off like an angelic choir, singing hope into existence.
Excited, Christia went down just a few steps, hands wrapped around the straps of her backpack, and waited, until minutes had passed.
Her sweat turned cold, sending gooseflesh up and down her limbs.
Something was wrong.
The girl descended slowly, struggling to see much of anything. The red hazard lights of the Systech Spire car speared through the haze, rotating like the beacon of a lighthouse.
She reached the bottom, her body low to the ground, and made her way to the right. She stopped behind a kiosk and peeked around it; the car was there, the doors open. Fitz was inside, crouching behind a row of seats and holding the gun up in a cop-like fashion.
And he looked terrified.
Just as she was about to get his attention, he spotted her and shook his head slowly, eyes round and intense. Christia recoiled a bit, and mouthed "why".
Fitz put a hand up, warning her to stay, and pointed to the left. The girl covered her mouth and edged around the kiosk just enough to see the obsidian creature, kneeling over the ravaged body of a synthetic, the crimson lights passing over it like the glow of fire.
Christia leaned back, her body threatening to stone up and cease to work.
Bowing it's elongated head, the harsh details of it's jaw shimmering with salivation, studying the ill-fated Joe quietly.
Swallowing hard, she pressed herself flush against the kiosk and tried to gather herself, but she was flooded with quick, dismal ideations.
Fitz was going to take the car and leave her; her fate was to end up in the belly of the most hostile being imaginable. Who would have thought that mankind wasn't on the top of the food chain? That there was something out there more perfect and dangerous than humans could ever hope to be?
Her green, teary eyes flitted over to the man she'd given her only weapon to as he held up a carton of cigarettes and pretended to throw it. He looked at her questioningly.
It took Christia a moment to realize what Fitz planned to do, and she didn't like it. A distraction so insubstantial would only piss it off and give away their presence.
She shook her head frantically, curls clinging to her sticky cheeks, silently pleading him to rethink his strategy.
From across the cloudy room, the creature made a curious sound, much like a purr; the both of them glanced around their respective barriers.
Christia watched in mute astonishment as it tugged on the synthetic's signature orange jumpsuit with a massive, clawed hand, almost...examining it.
It crouched further down, mouth open as it sniffed the robot's ever-vacant face; flinching, cocking it's head...confused. It's kill wasn't made of flesh and bone.
She saw Fitz move from the corner of her eye and snapped back from her reverie. It was the second time that she'd lost herself in curiosity, in wonderment for something that would kill her without pause, given the chance.
No. She didn't know that for sure. Back in the cafeteria...
Fitz waved the carton for her attention.
"Ready?" His lips motioned. Christia took in a steadying breath and nodded, inclining herself towards the open car.
She had no choice.
Fitz threw the carton to the left of the creature; the cigarettes landed with a soft thud a few feet from where it crouched.
Screeching vehemently, it rose up on muscled, agile legs, tail writhing in the air like a serpent, the disturbed fog swirling about it's towering form. As it took a single step towards the decoy, Christia crept towards the car, gaze darting between Fitz and the creature anxiously.
One step, another...slowly. Fitz leaned out of the car, reaching out for her. Christia's eyes shot to the creature, it's stance rigid and alert as it investigated the carton, oblivious to the escape.
She reached out and grabbed Fitz's hand, allowing him to pull her inside.
Despite their vulnerability, Christia couldn't help but embrace him.
She was so frightened.
Fritz pulled her away and gave her an nod, understandably hasty. He pointed to her, then the door, telling her to keep watch; cautiously, he walked further into the car settled in front of the console, waiting for her go-ahead.
Trembling horribly, Christia looked out into the station.
And she then understood that it had known from the beginning.
Looking right at her, the ridges of it's tail grating along the floor like a threat.
"Close the door now!" She cried.
The car shook, and the gates began to shut as the creature bolted towards her.
It was faultless.
The gates closed and locked. Christia fell to the ground, unconscious.