Jerry was huffing and puffing the entire way to Union Station. Jerry liked to think of himself as being in very good physical shape. After all, he biked just about everywhere in Iowa. But attempting to flee Chicago, when it was now an active warzone, proved a much more difficult and intensive task than Jerry's more leisurely rides back home. For one thing Jerry was in shock at just how many people there were in Chicago who were even capable of fleeing. If this was half the population of the city compared to when Jerry was born, exactly how crowded did Chicago used to be?
But more than the census counts the big problem for Jerry was all the pushing and screaming. Not to mention all the cars that managed to get in the way and block access to just about anywhere. Why would anyone in the city own a car? The air quality in Chicago was atrocious. It wasn't just the physically strenuous nature of the bike ride that had Jerry huffing and puffing after all. The city was just filthy to an extent he hadn't appreciated on the comparatively straightforward way inside.
The worst of it was that Jerry had already been forced to ditch his bike. It had become too much of a hazard in these crowded streets. So here Jerry was on foot, regularly falling down or even getting pushed, and having to make constant detours. The entire situation was completely out of control. A simple three kilometer route had turned into a ten kilometer route thanks to all the blockaded roads. Jerry counted himself thankful that he was good at self-navigating. Bit by bit the throng of terrified local refugees on their way to Union Station thinned out, helpless without their apps in their own hometown. For the most part Jerry had massively misjudged his escape route but in that specific way, he'd done all right.
Finally Jerry made his way to Union Station. Here Jerry would find the train he had used to get into the city. It wasn't actually a passenger train. Nothing was these days, but Jerry had paid the requisite bribe and had his receipt, so he fully expected to be allowed onboard.
That, too, turned out to be a mistaken impression. While the crowds weren't quite as bad as before there was still a huge teeming mass of people screaming at the boarding point for the train. That much had been in Jerry's parameters. After all, if the police were restricting access out of the city, Jerry would be the natural exception to be allowed out. He was both a foreigner, relative to Chicago anyway, and he had already paid for his ticket. He actually had a reason to be there.
But as Jerry got closer to the front of crowd, he realized to his horror that there were no Chicago police here. Union Station had come under the dominion of the Hunter's Guild. Far from the cowardly, lazy bullies Jerry was expecting to deal with to escape Chicago, he found himself face to face with tough, hardened, mean-looking men who would not be impressed by Jerry's argument that he deserved safety on account of being rich.
Nevertheless, Jerry knew he had to try.
"Hey!" Jerry cried out, waving his receipt in a desperate big for attention. "This is my train! I have a right to be here! Come on!"
Regrettably, Jerry had been so focused on the guards he had not noticed who happened to be in the crowd. There wasn't a woman or child or old person in sight. Every last person here was a man within maybe ten years of Jerry's own age. Most of them were not in as good a physical shape as Jerry. But then, that did not matter so much in an all-put brawl where Jerry was the immediate target.
Jerry had enough sense not to hold on to his little slip of paper any longer than he needed. A punch to the face, an elbow drop to the back, and a kick to the legs were enough to make Jerry realize he had more immediate problems than just getting out of Chicago. He curled up into the fetal position desperate to try and at least protect his face. Any potentially serious wound to his face would make Jerry much easier to identify over the near future, and this would not do for his plans at all.
"Nobody move!"
Jerry shuddered at the voice from nowhere. There was authority and power in those words, although Jerry, much like the rest of the crowd, didn't quite grab that impression at first. The main immediate surprise was that there was a woman giving out the orders. And all the hunters, in a single swift motion so unified it created a swift icy breeze, turned aside at once. Their weapons were ready, should the need arise.
"What's going on?"
As Jerry reluctantly moved his hands away from his face, he couldn't help but be astonished at what he saw. This was-
"Jill Smith?!" he cried out in bewilderment.
Jill looked down at him. This was, of course, inevitable, since Jerry was on the ground. All the same Jerry appreciated the visage. She looked so tall from there, with imposing, straight posture, dark foreboding battle armor, and dirty blonde hair from actual dirt. Jill truly did look like a Goddess. Jerry would not have guessed this was the Goddess of Hope, though, as Jill exuded an aura of fantastic power that made her look willing and ready to kick his ass or anyone else's if she felt the need to. It fit though, considering the awful situation Jerry was in. He surprised himself, forgetting that he had nearly been murdered by a mob only to be so thoroughly distracted by Jill Smith's sheer magnificence.
"Who are you?" asked Jill, sternly. "How do you know my name?"
"Ah! Well," said Jerry, nervously enduring the envious stares of the crowd. "I'm-I'm from Iowa, you see, and um, um, I was supposed to go back today but um, um, a lot of um, stuff, um, happened."
Jerry was admittedly laying it on a little thick with this particular performance. But then, Jerry had long appreciated the importance of performing for an audience. Even the slightest aggression could turn the crowd against him. Even at a time like this, with Chicago burning at least in part thanks to the police, Jerry understood all too well how people would take the side of an authority figure in any but the most outrageously monstrous situations.
"I see," said Jill, calmly. "Well, come on in."
Jill grabbed Jerry by the arm and took him past the partition. Both the crowd and the hunters allowed them through in total silence. Then, the moment Jill and Jerry were out of sight, the screaming started again. Jill released Jerry's arm. Jerry started to wince. Jill had a monstrously strong grip. That really hurt.
"Well?" Jill said, suddenly stopping turning to Jerry, hands on her hips. "What's actually going on here?"
"I don't-"
"I've never seen you before," said Jill. "I know why we're here. And if you're from Iowa you must be here for the same reason as me."
"Well I um," said Jerry, very guardedly. "Can you be more specific?"
"The Nazi dogs."
"Oh! Yes, right, right," said Jerry, struggling to figure out how to play along with this. Who or what were the Nazi dogs?
"I mean," said Jerry, "that's not the...specific reason I'm here. Just the um, the protests in general. And now the parade. I'm a tour guide. So I try to keep myself informed of events outside of Iowa. And it's a historical moment too you know."
"A tour guide, huh," said Jill, nodding her head. "So you talk with outlanders. Well, that explains how you know about this stuff. What's your name?"
"Gerald Littlefoot," said Jerry, having already decided he needed to use the closest thing this context had to his real persona. "I'm headquartered in Storm Lake."
"I see," said Jill. "Maybe I'll drop by sometime. Isn't Storm Lake abandoned though?"
"Not by me it isn't," said Jerry with a wry smile. he was desperately trying to hide his giddiness. Jill Smith! Visit him! Jerry had never imagined he'd have a chance to actually meet her in person...
"Anyway," said Jill, as they stopped in front of the train. "You can see the situation."
And Jerry did see the situation. Countless women, children, and old people were on the train. They did not look comfortable.
"I don't know what happened out there," said Jill, grimacing. "I swear it's like the minute after we left something awful went down. We were all ready to go and...bam, refugees, out of nowhere. This is the last train. We'd requisitioned all of them. I don't even know how I'm going to get to where I need to be."
"Ah," said Jerry, his heart sinking. "Well if I'm stuck here then-"
"No," said Jill flatly. "I don't know what your deal is but I feel like I can trust a fellow Iowan. You know the way back to Iowa right?"
"Reasonably well," said Jerry.
"Good," said Jill, handing Jerry a firearm. "You're up front. I don't know the conductor, but he's not from Iowa. I know that much. You make sure the train gets back home. Our people will figure out what to do with these people when the time comes. They'll be waiting for you. Well, not you specifically, but you know what I mean."
"Yeah," said Jerry, softly. "Yeah, I think I do."
And with that Jill was gone, presumably back with the rest of her subordinates, to manage their escape. Once he was sure Jill was out of earshot, Jerry gave a long whistle. Now that, right there, was his idea of a real woman.