It had only been about three or four minutes in between the first spider-cockroach breaking the barrier and when the living stream gradually subsided and then finally completely stopped,
but even such a short time could feel like an eternity depending on the circumstances --- and these were \textit{definitely} the right circumstances for it.
Even though all his senses were tense enough that they were about to tear Andrew had the feeling that he was waking up from a nightmare as the last stragglers of the insect army finally passed them and it was quiet again.
He had counted on Katt waiting for a certain time just in case.
Instead she impatiently gestured for him to climb off the platform as the last of the spider-cockroaches had barely disappeared into the twilight and Andrew obeyed silently.
However he quickly gave up the attempt to climb down one of the metal legs.
In the mean time the whole platform had gotten uncomfortably warm,
but the iron support seemed to be downright glowing,
even though the fire below it had gone out;
only a few seconds after the last insect had disappeared.
He jumped the almost two meters and landed much to his own surprise safely on both feet.
Even his bruised knee took the beating without complaining and Andrew quickly bent over to pick up the ladder so that Katt could get to the floor with greater ease.
As he was leaning the ladder against the edge of the platform he looked around for the man in the black rubber suit.
He was astonished.
Andrew didn't expect to find him alive or even somewhat whole.
But he was just not there at all.
At first he thought the living flood had just torn him along,
and in a certain sense that was true.
His strange firearm was on the other side of the safe place,
a good three or four meters away and what was left of his black satchel created a trail of pieces that lead further down the hallway.
Maybe ten or twelve meters away he found a hand-sized shard of glass that was mirrored on one side.
It took him a couple seconds to recognize that it was what was left of the visor of the helmet.
Right next to it was a watch that was missing its leather strap,
just like the rubber seal of the window.
Andrew was reminded of the skeletonized leftovers in the parking garage and shuddered inwards.
He suddenly didn't want to see anything else,
even though the trail of macabre kept going quite a bit.
He turned on his heel and went back to Katt who in the meantime had climbed down the ladder as well.
She hadn't come with empty hands nor had she been idle while he was following the gruesome scavenger hunt.
She had hauled one of the rusty diesel canisters down and was just finishing filling the last of the four oil barrels with two fingers of the nose-burning liquid.
``Are you scared that they'll come back?'',
asked Andrew.
``They never come back'',
answered Katt.
She didn't look at him,
but instead was inspecting her work critically and filled one of the barrels with a couple more gulps of the liquid.
``But the next person to come here might not have time for it.
Whoever uses the safe place refills the fire water.''
That seemed only logical to Andrew but as Katt was about to fill up the last container that was for the ladder he stopped her with a questioning motion.
It had only taken him a few glances to know what the weakness of the whole structure was.
``This ladder is just a danger'',
he said.
``Why don't you put steps on the legs?`` If he had constructed this peculiar structure,
it would have only had one support that would have been a lot easier to defend than four.
Katt considered him with and almost pitiful look and licked her fingertips,
with which she touched one of the legs for a short moment.
It audibly hissed.
``Because nobody wants to wait half an hour for it to cool down,
smart ass.''
``I had the feeling that we were being grilled anyway if we had waited any longer'',
said Andrew.
That wasn't an exaggeration.
They had spent the last few minutes laying on the blankets that seemed to be up there for that specific reason,
but the heat had been nigh unbearable at the end.``The steps would need to be made of some kind of metal that doesn't transfer heat quite as well``,
he said in a slight lecturing tone.
``Just like the whole platform or at least a majority of it.''
``Oh?'',
Katt asked snappishly.
``And how would you know which metal didn't transfer the heat as well?''
``For example you could try it out'',
Andrew suggested.
Katt prepared for another just as unquestionable question,
but she let it go with a peculiar look and a contemplative wrinkling of her forehead.
``You are a strange person,
huh?''
``No'',
answered Andrew.
``Where I'm from they call that logic.''
``Where you're from'',
repeated Katt thoughtfully.
``Where is that?''
Andrew had almost answered openly --- and why not? After all he didn't have anything to hide! ---,
but a voice in his head reminded him to be wary.
``Why don't you finally tell me where I am?'',
he asked hesitantly.
``In the dark land'',
answered Katt.
Aching and without even asking him for help she set the ladder back upright in its spot and filled the container up two fingers deep with the flammable liquid.
The canister was as good as empty,
but she carefully closed it and carried it up the ladder.
Before she climbed back down to Andrew she carefully bound the top rung to the edge of the platform with wire.
``Who fills the canisters with the \textit{fire water} when they're empty?'',
asked Andrew.
For some reason the question seemed to be uncomfortable for Katt since she didn't answer for a couple seconds and didn't look at him when she answered.
\textit{Iron hunters}\dots something about that bothered Andrew,
but he couldn't tell what it was immediately.
It sounded highly precise --- once you knew what it meant.
But now that Andrew had picked up the right trail in his head it didn't take long for him to realize what had bothered him about the term: It fell in the same category as \textit{safe place}.
There wasn't anything wrong with it,
but it sounded like a kid had made them up.
``These little beasts'',
he asked.
``what do you call them?''
``Gobblers'',
answered Katt.
``What else?''
Yeah,
that fit.
The word sounded just like \textit{safe place} and \textit{iron hunter}.
He didn't say anything,
instead going over to where the man had let his weapon go and squatted down in front of it.
Even though he had immense respect for the equally frightening and bizarre weapon,
he had a little bit of hope that it would still work and that he could figure out how it worked so that he could give their pursuers an unpleasant surprise when they saw them again.
The gun was only a skeleton now.
Everything that wasn't made of resistant metal or glass was gone --- including the barrel and the sights that had apparently been made out of plastic.
On the side there was a rectangular opening that looked like it had multiple printed circuits in it,
but the gobblers hadn't stopped at the microprocessor.
Disappointedly he let the weapon sink back to the ground;
At the same time a little relieved.
He wasn't sure if he would have had the guts to point that weapon at humans.
And he was glad that he didn't have to make that choice.
Katt had fastened the ladder behind her and climbed down to him.
``They don't leave anything other than stone or metal behind'',
she said as if reading his mind.
``You can leave that there.
The Iron is too hard to melt down and that means we can't do anything with it.''
Andrew didn't show it,
but Katt had just given him valuable information --- namely that she or the people she belonged to had handled one of these weapons or at least their remains before.
He stood up completely,
took a few steps and bent over again to pick something up.
It was a slim silver nail with a peculiar head and ribbed shaft,
half as long as his little finger and almost weightless.
That last remark was about the good dozen figures that were clothed in the color of the night that were lingering on the other end of the plaza.
Quite a few of them were busy collecting the remains of the Cessna and loading them into the two shark helicopters that had landed next to each other in front of the building where their frantic escape had started.
Most of the men were just standing around.
Andrew laid his head in his neck and looked up.
In the mean time the electrical storm had completely subsided,
but it still was dark out.
Above the ruined city there were neither stars nor the moon,
just continuous,
absolute,
contour less black.
And even though it felt like it had been forever since he and Nick had crashed into the plaza,
more than a few hours couldn't have passed since then.
``Didn't you just say something about \textit{day}?'',
he turned to Katt.
``On the other shore,
yeah.'' The girl made a head movement in the direction of the burning building.
Andrew strained to look in that direction,
but the sky looked completely black behind the building.
``I understand'',
he mumbled with a heavy tongue.
His fever had gotten worse and his thoughts started to slowly get more and more confused.
He had actually just imagined that she had told him it was daytime on the other side of the river.
``Come on! We're living in the twenty-first century! You can have your family visit you every once in a while,
even in the closed off wards.''
Katt's looks were just getting more and more confused.
She was getting ready to answer,
but then sharply inhaled and looked toward the landed helicopters and their crews.
The men had stopped whatever they were doing and were running towards the helicopters from all directions.
Andrew heard a fine humming as the turbines started,
then the oddly bent blades started spinning faster and faster,
becoming nearly invisible after a few seconds.
A few of the men fired,
but most of them were rushing toward the open doors of the helicopters with long steps,
jumping in before they turned around to give their comrades outside covering fire.
Andrew couldn't tell what they were shooting at,
but where their blazing blue bolts impacted burning popcorn seemed to be flung into the air.
Even the combined fire power of a dozen of their odd weapons wasn't enough to repel or even keep back the millions of gobblers.
The entire back third of the plaza had already awakened and was glitteringly,
silently pushing towards them.
Even before all the men were on board one of the helicopters took off,
swiveled around a few meters off the ground,
and used its unequally overpowered armaments to provide cover to the last few men.
It was still close.
Only one of them didn't make it to the rescue helicopter.
That one unfortunate soul grasped for the cabin door and missed it.
But Andrew could see from this far away that his suit had caught on the landing skids and had ripped open on almost its entire length.
The helicopter took off before the man could even stand up,
and two of his comrades bent over the side and shot him.
Andrew cried out in disbelief.
``Good god! But \dots but why did they do that\textinterrobang''
``His suit was ripped'',
said Katt.
Andrew had nothing more to say.
Other than the horror that had closed off his throat,
he was awfully nauseous and had to suddenly fully concentrate on controlling himself so that he wouldn't vomit.
Bewildered and lamed from dread he watched the two helicopters quickly gained height and then disappeared with such an acceleration that a fighter jet would have been jealous.
``We should wait a moment'',
said Katt.
``The gobblers will move on quickly,
but it seems to be a pretty large swarm.''
Andrew was barely listening.
He was still refusing to believe what he had just seen with his own eyes.
The men had shot their own comrade just because his suit had ripped? All of a sudden he wasn't sure if those were actually humans in those HAZMAT suits.
