“Ugh, disgusting. It smells like a thousand pigs ate a bunch of muck, died, and then gave birth to zombie-rats.”
Honestly, it was a fairly accurate description.
I nodded, wading through the muck. Listening intently for what I was looking for. Not wanting to disturb the sewer more than we already had.
But, of course:
The rookie was completely unaware.
“So, what are we looking for, exactly? I mean should we—”
I spun. Heel digging into something grotesque as I did. Shotgun pointed just to the left of the newbie.
A sound that became menacing through my mask’s filter.
“Listen Bucky, I know this is your first time out in the field, and I get that you’re excited, but, do us both a favor: zip it. Alright?”
He looked a bit hurt at that, but said nothing.
“Just take note of everything you see, and I’ll take questions at the end, alright? I’ll tell you what’s important afterward.”
“It’ll be a good way to tell if you’ve got what it takes to stay alive in this job, too. So don’t flub it up,” I ordered, turning and marching off into the muck.
“Wait,” I heard him mutter. And then, louder—in a faux-whisper—he said, “What does it take?”
“Details,” I muttered, intent. Listening.
A sound ricocheted off the wall. Pricking my ears with alarm.
I cocked my gun, pointed it like a bloodhound on the trail.
“And guts,” I finished telling him.
Before I marched further into the sewer.
Continue reading “Hunter in Progress”