Go to Brennan's Place

Date: Friday, July 25th

Status: ~1h since CLAIM DAY Transmission

Time: 19:05 - 19:15

Location: Urban District, outside Brennan's Apartment Building

Jen stood rooted to the pavement for a long moment, her gaze oscillating between the authoritative silhouette of the cop under the streetlamp and the dark brick facade of Brennan's apartment building just seventy feet ahead. The silence of the street was punctuated by the distant, rhythmic thud of a bass-heavy song from a passing car, a sound that felt like the heartbeat of a world that no longer made sense.

She looked down at Alex's hand where it held hers, his grip a firm and grounding constant in the shifting chaos. His words about respecting her autonomy, about not being like the men who simply took what they wanted, seemed to settle some of the frantic static in her mind.

"You are right," Jen whispered, her voice gaining a fraction of its usual strength. She looked up at him, her hazel eyes reflecting the amber glow from the intersection. "Brennan is a friend. You know him. If we go to the officer first, we are just giving ourselves over to a system that... well, we don't even know if that system still works. Let's check Brennan's place. If he is out, the officer is still right there at the corner. We can always go back to her."

"A solid plan," Alex agreed, a surge of relief loosening the tight knot in his chest. He didn't want to admit how much the uniform down the street made his skin crawl. "Stay low and keep to the shadows of the hedges. We don't want to draw her attention if we don't have to."

They moved with a hushed, rapid intensity, abandoning the center of the sidewalk to skirt the edge of the residential properties. The overgrown hibiscus and boxwood hedges provided a jagged, dark screen between them and the streetlamp's glare. Every few steps, Alex paused, his eyes scanning the windows above and the dark alleyway that cut behind the building.

The air was thick with the scent of sun-baked brick and the sharp, briny tang of the ocean breeze. As they closed the final thirty feet, the details of Brennan's building became clear. It was a well-maintained, pre-war structure with thick walls and heavy windows. Brennan's unit was on the first floor, positioned behind a small, gated patio that was shrouded in the deep shadows of a massive oak tree.

Alex led the way through the low iron gate, the hinge letting out a faint, metallic groan that made both of them flinch. They hurried across the small concrete patio to the front door. It was a heavy, reinforced slab of dark wood with a high-end electronic deadbolt - a feature Brennan had installed himself after a string of local burglaries the previous year.

'Please be home, Brennan,' Alex thought, his heart thudding a steady, rhythmic count against his ribs. 'Please just be behind this door.'