Erin stared at her phone, her connection to the Ferret cut by the Plot via panic.

Someone groaned two aisles over. “Shoot! I was just packing up!”

Someone else asked, “What up, Lisa?”

“Oh the darn tank things started up two hours early. A half a dozen heroes are already trying to wrangle the eight of them, if the latest guess is real. I need to get home!”

“Yeah, no kidding, my daycare is going to give me an earful and a fine if I pick up my kids late again.”

Erin stopped listening as they continued to quietly complain about their troubles. She’d taken only a couple hours to perform her research, and finally come to the conclusion that Janey being missing and Donovan’s connections to Boron were worth asking The Ferret about.

The Plot had started the bots early to distract The Ferret. The Plot destroyed its established story rules rather than let Erin warn the Protagonists. Why was that easier than just killing Erin’s agency permanently? Is that what Cognizance was?

Erin considered calling again, but knew that was futile if The Ferret was in a fire fight.

Erin logged into the forums she still temporarily had access to. She hadn’t logged in for nearly a week. She found the relevant threads, and posted a simple question, not able to find the answer with a quick search.

“Where is The Cavalry at?”

The forums were incredibly busy for a Wednesday afternoon, but then usually kill-bots were a Thursday night event. Erin refreshed again and again, as she packed up, and finally saw someone post: “Oh hey, sighting of Ferret at 15th and Mayhew.”

That was about three miles away. Erin could hoof it, but it would take her nearly half an hour or more. The Plot tingled across her skin again as she grabbed her keys. This time, however, it had even less holding power, and merely agitated her greatly.

Erin grabbed her jacket, her backpack, and headed for the stairs, checking her cell regularly for updates. The elevator would be jammed with people trying to leave in spite of the danger. That, and Erin didn’t trust the Plot to not shut the damn things down to stop her.

She texted The Ferret all the information she had figured out, but got no response. She texted Misty and Tyson the same information, already aware she could no longer feign ignorance. The Plot could block the texts if it damn well wanted to.

If anyone could have stopped time to ask Erin why she was doing this, she’d struggle for a good answer. Janey had been her friend once. Maybe she still was. If she was in danger, Erin ought to do something. 

Some of her reason would always be guilt, though. Three people died yesterday from a building collapse. A small part of her was trying not to count the number, and the names, of people who died in Plot related events that Erin could have prevented if she’d tried harder, if she’d cared a little more. She could have figured this all out as early as Monday, if she’d been paying attention. She had been just too angry about her apartment and then Ashlynn to care.

In reality, she was fueled primarily by the pure spite and contempt she felt for the Plot, that evil which had done all of this to her and the world. That created Janey and killed Greg and let Ashlynn go free.

There were already cars lining up to try to get out of the parking garage by the time Erin got there, but most of them were stymied by the lowered gate. Erin imagined the scene, where the frustrated parking lot attendant telling the desperate first car that the gate couldn’t be opened; that he had direction from the police to keep the streets cleared. In the distance, Erin could hear the echoes of what sounded like intermittent firecrackers.

She went to her bike anyway and strapped on her helmet. She was about to do something incredibly stupid and dangerous; she wouldn’t do it without a helmet.

Another check on her phone, and Erin shoved it into her backpack. No better sightings than 15th and Mayhew.

The thrum of the motorcycle didn’t add much to the already loud din of the cars in the parking garage, and the honking of people further up the ramp who didn’t know why the gate was down.

Erin proceeded to do the things that pissed people off about motorcycle riders, and edged past the trapped cars in the space available on the passenger side of the waiting line, towards the exit.

Her heart pounded as she realized how stupid this was. The Plot left her alone for now, but it wouldn’t for long. She loathed its presence, but she didn’t want it to get away with risking more lives, more damage, when she could cut the story threads early.

A few more people honked more vigorously as she moved past them, and the attendant, trying to go quickly from driver to driver to explain, was about to cross over and stop Erin.

Erin had enough clear space however, and started to accelerate past the last few cars and towards the gate. Squeezing past the narrow gap between the lowered gate and the parking garage wall intended for pedestrians, Erin checked the road and turned right onto the streets. Towards the echoing gunfire and towards 15th and Mayhew.

As she did, the Plot began to buzz again, lifting the hairs on the back of her neck as she worried about the dual distraction of driving while the Plot tried to control her. Perhaps the Plot worried a little too, as she felt no alien control seize her. Or maybe she just couldn’t feel it try over the adrenaline and pounding in her ears.

The traffic was hectic but orderly. Meridian City had run this drill before. Fortunately for Erin, most everyone was trying to leave the fighting zone, not enter it.

Unfortunately for Erin, a few enterprising individuals were also using the wrong side of the road - her side of the road - as impromptu escape lanes. Erin had to swerve to avoid a car who entered her side of the road and then straighten out to not hit a car trying to leave a tolled parking space to her right.

She saw a cop car trying to arrange a barrier to prevent people from entering the fire-zone. She’d already passed two other police officers, who were trying to direct traffic at a particularly complicated five way intersection. By the time she’d turned the opposite direction he’d been motioning, he never had a chance to stop her from cruising past the incomplete barrier.

The sounds of gunfire were unmistakably not fireworks, even still blocks away, even still through her helmet. Now, it was echoing through tall buildings and inciting primal fears of thunder too close. She lowered her head and prayed the Cavalry wouldn’t move too much.