A loud, metallic clatter echoed from the far side of the cistern.
One of the other Guards had nudged the discarded, half-eaten carcass of the mutated boar, sending a rusted iron pipe tumbling across the concrete floor.
The Guard aiming at Zane snapped its head toward the sound.
"Acoustic disturbance," the distant Guard reported. "Negative contact. Structural debris settling."
The Guard in front of Zane lowered its rifle. "Acknowledged. Resuming grid search."
It drifted past Zane, the hum of its boots passing mere inches from his shoulder.
Zane exhaled a microscopic breath. He lowered his foot, stepping carefully over the shattered glass, and slipped into the darkness of the exit tunnel.
Refusing to stop moving, even for a mile, he navigated the treacherous slope of the Mercha
