[ WP ] `` Wow , '' nodded the distant onlooker , `` they are going to crack the code . '' `` Ah , '' replied her partner , `` unless they kill themselves first . ''

`` I ca n't believe it,'' Alastrina nodded toward the distant vine-covered structure as she lifted her head from the scope of the 51mm sniper rifle, `` the Wildermen are actually going to manage to crack the door's keycode.'' 
 
 `` I ca n't believe the damn thing still has power,'' replied Dax, `` but there's still a chance that they'll trigger the fail-safe and kill themselves.'' He chuckled, `` The bastards still do n't know about the Revenant, either.'' 
 
 Alastrina frowned, crinkling the jagged scar that swept across her nose from her left brow to mid-right cheek where it marred the freckles dusting her face. She hoped the pre-cataclysm building's defenses got them. If the Revenant decided to come into play, it was going to be harder to rescue the Wildermen's captive. Much harder, she thought and looked at the black rucksack sitting on the high ridge beside her. She adjusted the tinted goggles covering her mismatched eyes and ran a hand through her red braids that danced in the autumn wind. 
 
 The duo sat far up a cliff on a rock-strewn outcropping obscured by the needles of two gargantuan evergreens overlooking the wilderness below. The blue-white light of the too-bright sun shone in the sky above them and Dax pulled his brown, wide-brimmed hat farther down his dark-skinned face. The goggles covering his eyes had been cracked the previous day in a skirmish with the men they now tracked. 
 
 Alastrina looked through the scope of the sniper rifle once more and her breath caught in her throat when she saw that the Wildermen had forced her teenaged charge in front of the door. A mud-coated hulk of man dressed in furs with blue tattoos on his face and arms drew a knife and cut the ropes binding the young man before motioning with a knife at the rusted steel door. The teenager rubbed his raw wrists and bent over the keypad with a scowl. 
 
 The copper-haired woman turned to her partner and said, `` They've got Zeke on the keypad, Dax.'' 
 
 `` Fuck, Trina. We've got to get down there. If something happens to the boy...'' Dax trailed off. He rubbed a hand across the week-old salt and pepper stubble that covered his face and spat. 
 
 Alastrina nodded. `` I'll go first,'' she said as she stood up and stretched her poplin cloth covered legs, `` cover me with the rifle.'' 
 
 Dax grabbed her hand, `` What about the Kindled they have?'' he asked in a hoarse whisper, images of blue flames and cracked stone swam through his mind. 
 
 Alastrina took his hand between her own gloved fingers, `` Leave the Kindled to me. Just keep the Wildermen off me and if they make it inside, wait here. Shoot anyone that leaves the building behind me.'' She kissed his brow and disappeared into the shadow of the forest behind them, the scar of a snake bite beneath her left breast began to burn; she disturbed nothing beneath her booted feet and made not a sound as she walked unhindered through the overgrowth. 
 
 The hair on Dax's neck and arms stood up as he watched her go. He had seen her move like this many times since the day they had met, but he would never get used to the unnatural way she seemed to disappear in the lonely places. 
 
 He lifted the rifle in his muscular arms and gazed through the scope. He saw the door open and the Wildermen shuffle inside, the boy in front of them. Hurry Trina, he thought as he watched the ragtag miscreants disappear into the darkened doorway. 
 

