“Is it always like this?” The kid seemed disoriented. He was glancing around the room, unfocused. That would get him killed, if he wasn’t careful.
Twelve tapped him on the arm. “Nope. Not always. If there’s any trouble, it’ll come from up there.”
He pointed to an attic door, in the ceiling above them. The door was askew, and the darkness waited behind it like an eye.
The kid nodded. Then he said, “How long have we got?”
“Together? Maybe another ten minutes.”
“One thing I kept asking them at Base, they wouldn’t answer. They said I’d see for myself. Who are they?”
Twelve didn’t answer. Something had changed, ever-so-slightly, in the darkness of the attic above them. He touched his finger to his lips, then raised his weapon, and indicated for the kid to do likewise.
From January Tale, by Neil Gaiman for Blackberry’s A Calendar of Tales