The unearthly scratching was punctuated by the stranger's urgent voice, both hushed and secretive, yet deafening in the darkness of Carmo's apartment. Her heart rose to her throat as her frantic mind tried to piece together their situation. There was [i]something[/i] inside the building with them. They were in her apartment. Her apartment that had no fire escape (how would a young girl living on her own be able to afford a place unless no one else wanted it?) just a four story drop to the asphalt below. There was no escape. No alarm. No police.

Carmo grit her teeth against the fear bubbling up inside her and fought against the tears building in the corner of her eyes. The scraping was getting closer.

"Turn the camera on," she said, swallowing, "and get to the back. After… if you can, get it to Josh Chan at the Seattle Sun. Tell him –" Carmo trailed off. Tell him what? She shook head to herself and a tear escaped. "Just get it to him." Standing before the door, she tightened her shaking grip on her bat and raised it, ready to strike. 

Then she looked over her shoulder to see the stranger's blurred figure.

"Carmo Koizumi," she said in a soft, frail voice. "You?"

--

He flicked through menus with a practiced thumb, checked the indicator in the corner to see that the flash was on, and framed the small, protective woman and her door in the viewfinder. Too tired to argue, he just chewed the rising, acidic guilt in his throat; why the hell was she already prepared to make a last stand over his stupid mistake? If he just got out of here, maybe he could make this his problem again.

Still, they needed to know what they were up against. He held his ground, ready to get a picture...when the woman's weight shifted. She said something about caramel, and it took him five seconds to recognize it as a name. He sighed misty respect for her in the biting night air.

"Hiko Kogawa," he nodded in response, forcing husky strength back into his voice. "Yoroshiku." Something in that firmness said, [i]Stay strong, Koizumi. We'll get through this.[/i] He only hoped she could hear it. In the next, tense moments, the tearing of linoleum gave way to a [i]thud[/i] of finality. 

After a moment's pause, the shearing continued, muffled somehow, until it faded into the distance. [i]Did...did that thing just walk away?[/i] Its heavy nails raked back over the metal door frame and returned to the familiar, fruitless task of piercing solid concrete.