"Grab your stuff. Let's go."
Bryan ushered Sarah and Allen out, then ducked his head back inside for a final check. Nothing left behind. He pulled the door shut.
Down the stairwell, out the building. The sun hung high, pouring warm light over the cold streets and painting them in color.
The sidewalks were busier now. Small children played freely along the curbs, watched by kindly-looking elderly folk. Adults hurried past with purposeful strides, heading toward the factories near the perimeter wall—another day of labor for supply cards.
Anna took the lead. Three months of living here had given her a familiarity with the streets that Bryan's group couldn't match.
She walked briskly, occasionally glancing up to check their position against the address Bryan had given her. Then she slowed, waiting for the others to catch up.
"This neighborhood… we should be careful when we get there."
"What do you mean?" Bryan's brow furrowed slightly. Anna wouldn't say something like that without reason.
She handed the note back to Bryan and looked ahead. "I just remembered—the address you gave me is right next to one of the roughest areas in District A."
She paused deliberately, waiting for questions. None came. She glanced back to find all three watching her attentively, waiting for her to continue. Slightly surprised by their patience, she went on.
"After the QZ stopped requiring mandatory labor, some people decided the work was too grueling. They banded together and started filling their days with gambling, bare-knuckle fighting, and whatever else they could think of to kill time—while conveniently collecting other people's supply cards in the process. Some women who didn't want to work started selling themselves, prices posted openly. As more people gathered, it grew into a whole scene."
"It's also the worst area for muggings and brawls. People get beaten badly—broken bones, the works—and their supply cards get stolen. Without cards, they can't pay for treatment. They either die at home or end up permanently disabled."
"The military's cleared the place out a few times, but life in the QZ is monotonous. The whole thing springs back within days. Eventually the military just stopped bothering. They let it exist. Residents who know about it give the area a wide berth."
"What? Wouldn't it be dangerous to live near there?" Sarah couldn't help her alarm, worried about what it meant if Marlene was really living in that neighborhood.
"Don't get ahead of yourself. Let's find her first."
Bryan waved the group forward. Danger didn't concern him much. The priority was locating their target.
They headed toward the left side of District A. The notorious area sat where District F's border met the QZ perimeter wall. A livestock farm happened to be nearby, which kept foot traffic relatively heavy.
Despite the chaos of the area itself, factory soldiers were stationed not far away, and the wall-side watchtowers had clear sightlines. That kept the worst elements from acting too brazenly in the open streets.
That was precisely why the military hadn't cracked down harder. As long as nothing horrifying happened in broad daylight, what went on behind closed doors was met with a deliberate blind eye.
The moment Bryan's group entered the neighborhood's periphery, a cacophony of shouts and calls assaulted their ears.
Men of varying builds leaned against walls along the street, arms crossed, chatting idly. But Bryan's sharp eye caught them scanning every passerby on the road—and when his group appeared, a combination of women and children, the stares lingered noticeably longer.
Beyond these lookouts, clusters of people were gathered further in, clearly gambling. Each player had a dozen or so supply cards laid out in front of them as stakes.
What lay deeper was impossible to see from the street—walls blocked the view—but the roars and cheers echoing from within made it clear: the fighting pits and everything else Anna had described.
"Should be around here."
Anna recalled the address and slowed to a stop, scanning the area. Before long, she spotted an aging apartment building with faint green mildew creeping up its walls. After confirming the building number, she turned to the others. "Yes, this is it."
They climbed the stairs. According to the address, Marlene's unit was on the ninth floor. On the way up, Sarah checked the time and sighed. "Coming at this hour—who knows if she's even home. Should've come earlier."
"And whose fault is that?" Bryan couldn't help but roll his eyes.
Still, Sarah's comment reminded them all that they might come up empty. But their feet didn't slow. Knock first, worry later.
Sarah's jinx proved accurate. When they found the unit, no one was home.
Fortunately, their persistent knocking drew the attention of a neighbor. The door of the adjacent unit creaked open, revealing a white-haired woman in her late sixties or seventies. She peered at the group of young people on her doorstep. "Can I… help you?"
Anna stepped forward and politely explained why they were there, asking if the woman knew where the resident had gone.
The old woman's brow creased slightly. She looked them over—all kids, clearly not troublemakers—and decided to answer. "That's right, a girl named Marlene lives here. Moved in about ten days ago. Such a sweet child—she even helps this old bag with leg massages, tidies up my place…"
Sensing the woman was about to go off on a tangent, Anna hesitated—then thought better of interrupting and kept quiet.
"Oh, look at me—nearly forgot your question."
Catching Anna's restrained expression, the old woman caught herself. "When you get old, you know how it is… not many people to talk to these days. Sorry about that. If you go out the building, turn right, and walk about five hundred meters, there's a small clinic. That girl works there."
"A clinic?"
Bryan, standing at the back, raised an eyebrow in surprise. As far as he knew, QZ residents who got sick or injured went to the hospital in the central district—District G—where the medical facilities and equipment were comprehensive. If you could pay with supply cards, you'd get treated. He'd never heard of a neighborhood clinic.
Hearing his surprise, Anna knew he was out of the loop but didn't rush to explain. She thanked the old woman, helped her back inside, and then turned to the group.
"Not long ago, the administration center announced they'd be setting up a small clinic in District A—for minor things like headaches, fevers, wound stitching. Saves people the long trip to G District. I think it opened right around the time those students graduated from the school. Makes sense now—Marlene must be working at the new clinic."
Bryan filed this away. It was the government improving conditions in the QZ—a positive development.
"Alright, let's not waste time. Move."
They retraced their steps down the stairs and out of the building. Following the old woman's directions—right turn, five hundred meters—they soon spotted a building marked with a red cross on its roof.
The QZ's newly established clinic had been set up in what was previously the largest private practice on the street. A small line of patients waited inside.
Two rifle-carrying soldiers stood guard at the entrance, eyes forward, occasionally glancing inside. Their job was twofold: prevent disturbances, and serve as a warning that this place was under protection.
The clinic stored medical supplies shipped from the central district. More importantly, the doctors and nurses inside needed safeguarding.
"Let's go in."
Anna paused briefly at the sight of the small crowd inside, then beckoned the others and stepped through the door.
...
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