It was pouring when they arrived in District 5.
The rain stormed from sky to earth with blinding intensity, hazing everything such that they had to shield their eyes and squint to see properly. The choppers touched down just beyond the boundary of the district, and they all alighted at once, clad in simple clothes rather than tactical gear, duffel bags in hand containing their gear and spare clothes.
They were soaked, along with their bags, by the time they'd covered the distance between the landing point and the district's primary entrance. Thunder rumbled overhead and lightning flashed through the sky, and through all of it they could still hear the steady hum of the electromagnetic fences shielding the district.
At the primary entrance, they were halted by helmeted guards. Human, not Pandoran, and clad in full gear.
"What is this?" one of the guards demanded, one hand already inching toward his holstered pistol. "State your business."
"We're with the Capital," Andre answered, presenting a gold badge bearing the House Lincoln emblem. At the sight of it, the guard's stance shifted, a noticeable discomfort spreading across his face. He walked over to the other guard, said something lost under the roar of the rain, then raised his shoulder and spoke into the walkie-talkie pinned there.
A few seconds passed before he returned. "Come with me," he said, and led them through the primary entrance to a nearby shed where three trucks were parked. He had them load their bags into the back of one, then climbed into the driver's seat while the others squeezed in. The front passenger seat could take two, so Chloe and Jon took it while Jin, Lucas, Aiden and Andre crammed into the back.
"Bit late," the guard said as he steered the truck out of the shed, hastily rolling up the windows against the rain. "Chancellor won't be able to see you until dawn. You can stay up in the Quarters with the boys, unless you've got a place of your own lined up."
"Miguel's Home," Andre said.
The guard frowned at Andre through the rearview mirror. "The orphanage?" He sounded puzzled. "Well, alright then."
District 5 was circular.
The buildings, mostly brick and concrete, were laid out in concentric rings with multiple layers. The outer ring had crooked brick buildings and shacks lining a granite path. Further in, the buildings grew taller and wider. On it went, ring after ring of buildings and tents and makeshift structures, until the innermost layer, which had a suburban feel to it, the kind of neighborhood that looked like it had been lifted straight from a television drama about cheating housewives.
The district had a nightclub, old and worn, its neon signs barely functional and flickering every few seconds. Outside, people lay sprawled on sleeping bags or flat on the porch, bottles and empty wrappers scattered around them. The windows were cracked in places and broken entirely in others. Inside, there were lights, but no music.
Chloe gathered it hadn't functioned as a club in a very long time.
At the center of the district stood a mansion supported by Greek-style columns. Every balcony had turrets mounted on it, as well as a stationed guard armed with a sniper rifle.
"Bridge's mansion," said the guard as it came into view. "Heavily guarded lately, on account of everything that's been going on."
"You mean the missing kids?" Jon asked.
"Among other things." The guard grunted. "Whole Pandoran unit wiped out, a few other soldiers parted from their limbs and heads in ways nobody wants to think about. Got everyone spooked, on high alert. Used to be we'd have stragglers and Outsiders trying to get into the district, looking for shelter and food."
"That's not the case anymore?" Chloe asked.
He snorted. "Couldn't be further from it. Now we're dealing with small riots several times a day, people trying to get out, take their chances somewhere else. Maybe head for another district. But the other districts say they're at capacity." He paused. "You ask me, I think they just don't want any part of what's happening here."
"Christ," Jon murmured.
"Christ's about right." The guard snorted again.
A few minutes later, he brought the truck to a stop outside a two-storey brick building with flowers hung on the walls and arranged in pots on the ground outside. A set of stairs led up to the front porch, where a couple of benches surrounded a table with a chess board on it, the pieces scattered about, no doubt blown around by the wind.
Lights shone through a few of the building's windows. Most were dark.
One by one, they climbed out of the truck and hurried onto the porch with their bags, relieved to be out of the rain.
"Hope you've got more luck than the last unit of Pandorans," the guard said, before pulling away in his truck, the vehicle's lights quickly reducing to a faint glow in the downpour before vanishing entirely.
Jon pressed the doorbell and waited. Overhead, thunder rumbled more furiously than before. A brilliant flash lit the sky and Chloe saw a bolt of lightning strike somewhere in the distance.
Jon pressed the doorbell again, then several more times. After what must have been the seventh attempt, she heard heavy footsteps inside the house, descending wooden stairs.
A scraping sound followed, then something like a gun being cocked. A click. Then the footsteps again, drawing closer to the door.
Several locks disengaged in quick succession, and then the door opened a narrow crack. The barrel of a shotgun emerged through the gap, aimed directly at Jon. Through the crack, Chloe made out somewhat tanned skin and fierce brown eyes, but little else.
"State your business," came a raspy, no-nonsense voice from behind the door.
"Let me," Andre said, stepping forward and positioning himself in front of the shotgun. "Pastor Miguel — they're with me."
"Andreas," the man said, distrust still evident in his voice. "I did not expect you at this hour. Or in this weather."
"Andre," Andre replied. "Not Andreas."
A three-second pause. Then Miguel exhaled, as though Andre had just passed a test. The shotgun barrel withdrew, and the door opened fully.
There was Miguel, clad in a fastened velvet sleeping robe and oversized sandals, rough brown hair on his head and face, the lowered shotgun at his side. Behind him stood two boys, neither older than twelve or thirteen, looking frightened.
"Apologies," Pastor Miguel said, bowing his head courteously. "I trust you understand my wariness of unexpected arrivals. It has been a troubling few weeks here in the fifth district. And I had to be certain you were truly Andre — for all I know, we may be dealing with an enemy capable of wearing many faces."
"Hopefully not," Chloe said, and shuddered.
Pastor Miguel and the two boys, whom he called John and Jace, took their bags and disappeared. Miguel returned almost immediately, without his shotgun. "The clothes will be dry before morning," he said. "I am Miguel Navarro, and this is my home, as well as the home of children who do not have one."
"Jonathan," Jon said, stepping forward and offering a handshake. Miguel accepted it with a pleasant smile. "That's my sister Chloe, and my friends Lucas and Aiden. And Jin. We're truly grateful for the shelter."
"Ah, the gratitude should be mine, if I am honest," Miguel said, leaving Jon with a slightly confused frown. He scratched the back of his head. "The truth is, I did not offer room or shelter purely out of the goodness of my heart. Or perhaps I should say that I did it out of goodness — but the consideration was not for you. It was for the children here."
"I don't follow," Jon said.
"The children are safer with you here," Andre explained.
"Yes." Miguel nodded. "They have been frightened lately — the disappearances, the deaths of those soldiers. Your presence would do a great deal to ease their fears. Mine too, if I'm honest. But that is enough for now. I don't wish to wake the ones already sleeping. We'll have time to talk in the morning. Come, let me show you to your rooms. I hope the arrangements will suit you well enough."
Miguel locked the front door, then gestured for them to follow. He led them through the orphanage past a spacious living room with several bookshelves, toys scattered about and an entertainment center; past a neat dining room and its adjoined kitchen; past a brown door leading down to a basement he said was used for storage and then along a hallway lined with doors to the room at the far end.
It was a modest room. A single bunk bed, a bedside table, a desk and chair, and a boarded-up window already missing a couple of boards. There was also a small dresser, empty except for clean bath towels. Lucas and Aiden took this room. Miguel pointed out the shared bathroom down the hall, large enough for six people at a time, with separate toilet and shower stalls.
He then led the rest of them upstairs to an identical hallway with more rooms. The one he brought them to was slightly larger, with a bunk bed on one side and a single bed on the other. The dresser here held three towels instead of two.
Chloe, Jin and Andre took this room, largely because Aiden insisted on also keeping watch over Jin, which Jon agreed made sense. That left Jon to share a room with the two boys — John and Jace.
"I wake the children every morning at six," Miguel said. "There's a bell — it sounds rather like an alarm. If you hear it, don't panic. When they wake, they shower and then file in for breakfast. I'd invite you to join us, but I'm aware of your dietary restrictions and I'm afraid I don't have—,"
"It's fine." Jon smiled. "The rooms are more than enough. Everything else, we'll sort out ourselves."
"Very well." Miguel nodded. He let out a long yawn. "I really must turn in — it was the doorbell that woke me. If you need anything, feel free to look around and help yourselves. Andre knows the layout of the building."
"Thank you," Jon said.
"Good night." Miguel rubbed his eyes. "I'll see you in the morning."
He left them and headed to his room further down the hall. Once his door closed, Jon turned to Andre.
"You trust him?" Jon asked.
"Yes." Andre nodded. "Completely. He's a good man. A little reserved, perhaps — but I trust him."
"Good," Jon said, sounding faintly relieved. "Get some rest, everyone. We've got a lot to get started on when morning comes."
Jon headed to his room, and Andre locked the door to theirs once they were inside. Chloe and Jin took the bunk bed, Chloe claiming the bottom. Andre took the single bed, kicking off his shoes and setting them by the window.
He pulled his shirt off too, hanging it over the dresser, then grabbed a bath towel and did his best to dry his hair. The entire time, Chloe watched, her heart beating a little faster than it should have been.
When he finished, he turned and caught her gaze. He frowned. "What? I'm not sleeping in wet clothes."
Chloe cleared her throat. "Right," she said, glancing awkwardly down at her own damp shirt.
Andre noticed, and chuckled softly. "I won't be looking," he said, then climbed into bed, pulled the blanket over himself and turned to face the wall.
Chloe glanced at Jin. They exchanged a shrug, then followed his lead and removed their shirts. Jin climbed straight into bed, but Chloe felt too uncomfortable to sleep in just her underwear with Andre in the room, and so she fetched a bath towel from the dresser and wrapped it around her chest before getting in.
She drew the blanket over herself and turned to face the wall.
For a while, the only sound in the room was the roaring rain outside.
Then Andre broke the silence. "Good night," he said softly.
"Good night," Chloe and Jin echoed a moment later.