Silence rushes back into the alley as though nothing happened at all.
I lower him carefully onto the asphalt while listening for any sign that someone heard.
Nothing.
Gripping him beneath the arms, I haul him behind a rusted dumpster where the darkness hides him from view.
From a distance, the alley looks exactly as it did before, as if he was never there at all.
A voice crackles softly through my earpiece.
“South side clear.”
Tyler.
One down. Two to go.
Tyler and I creep along the south side of the theater, hugging the weathered brick wall.
The farther we go, the darker it gets.
The glow from the marquee fades in the back of us, eclipsed by the darkness clinging to the north side of the building.
Blacked out windows line the upper levels like empty eye sockets, as though the city decided this place wasn’t worth saving.
Ahead, a lone guard stands near an old generator enclosure. Loose sheets of corroded hurricane shutters swing and clack whenever the wind picks up. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, scouring the area with the bored confidence of a man who believes he’s alone.
My gaze slides to Tyler.
He doesn’t acknowledge me.
His attention is fixed entirely on the guard ahead; every ounce of focus narrowed to a single target.
The same expression he wears before pulling the trigger at the range.
Without a word, he advances.
I wait where I am, my back pressed against the wall as I watch him go.
The night seems to fold around him, becoming impossible to track.
Tyler moves in like a predator sighting prey, reducing the distance between them.
Twenty feet.
Fifteen.
Ten.
The guard stays unaware.
A gust of wind shudders a loose section of the chain fencing, its metallic clatter drowning out Tyler’s final approach.
Five feet.
Three.
One.
