Prophet and Scavenger sat on padded folding chairs in a narrow, windowless hallway.

“It smells like mothballs down here,” Scavenger observed.

“They use it to mask animal scents,” Prophet informed him. “I heard some of the men discussing it earlier.”

“I don’t know why they bother. We’re all animals.”

“Some more than others,” Prophet muttered.

“You still nervous?”

Prophet hesitated, then said, “I’ve had better assignments.”

“They’d never hurt us. The chief would come after them if they did.” Scavenger leaned back and looked around. “It’s freaky to be in a building with no windows, though. I feel trapped.”

“Yeah. It’s like a cellar, but with fluorescent lights and cubicles instead of potatoes and wine. I’m not sure if they’re more civilized than we are, or less.”

“Way less. Digging in the dirt like a bunch of fucking nightcrawlers? Come on!” Prophet chuckled as Scavenger shook his head. “I’m sure this place is easy to protect, but living underground is unnatural. I’d rather pay Veiled taxes and have the occasional fight, and still be able to see the sky above me.”

“That’s because you’re a bird.” Prophet glanced up and down the hallway. “He’s been gone a long time.”

Scavenger rolled his eyes. “All that means is that our new orders are complicated. The general never wastes time or words.”

A door opened at the end of the hallway. Watchman emerged, clutching some papers, and stalked toward his clanmates. 

He looked spooked.

“Come with me,” he said as he hurried past them. “I’ll fill you in on the road.”

Scavenger and Prophet came to their feet and followed their leader. As Prophet turned the corner, he glanced back toward the office where Watchman had been in the meeting.

A man stood in the doorway, staring at him with eyes that were an unbelievably bright blue. They were shining through his dark brown light as if they were LEDs.

The man closed the door.

“What the hell are you doing, Prophet?” Watchman demanded. “Hurry up!”

Prophet began jogging. The three of them sped through a rat maze of hallways and corridors until they finally reached the bunker’s outer doors. They were searched by a pair of hulking guards before they were permitted to exit. Once outside, they made a beeline for Watchman’s car.

“Where are we headed?” Scavenger asked.

“East.”

They got in, and Watchman drove down an unassuming forest road. They wound past several creatures that looked like regular woodland animals, and several tent camping sites that looked like great family vacation spots.

All lies.

“Where’s the next bundle?” Prophet asked.

“We’re not looking for bundles this time.” Watchman gripped the steering wheel and his instruction papers until his knuckles were as white as his face.

“Then where are we going?” Scavenger’s face lit up. “Is he letting us go home?”

“No.” He thrust the pages he was clutching sideways at Scavenger.

“What are we looking for now?” Prophet asked. “Is it still something I can sense?”

“It’s not ‘something’ at all,” Watchman informed him. “We’re looking for someone this time.”

“Who? And why?”

Scavenger looked up from the papers he’d been handed, his expression dumbfounded. “You’ve got to be kidding!” He passed the packet back to Prophet. “How the hell are we supposed to find somebody if we don’t know who they are or where they are?”

“We find a way,” Watchman said, his tone implying dire consequences for failure. “Those are our orders. Teams are being sent to four different locations. We got Bainbridge. We have one month to do this.”

Frowning, Prophet skimmed the documents for himself.

And his jaw dropped.