Fragments by Dan Wells

seen.
    Kira stood up, still staring toward the building now invisible in the darkness. It
     was one of the many she’d identified as a likely target—its roof was covered with
     solar panels, ringing a central antenna so large she thought it must have been an
     actual radio station. If someone had gotten that old equipment running again, they’d
     have a more powerful radio than either of the two she’d seen blown up.
    “Do I go now, or wait for morning?” Staring into the darkness, she realized she still
     wasn’t sure what her plan was—knowing where the bad guys were hiding wouldn’t do her
     any good if she triggered a bomb as soon as she stepped inside. She could try to catch
     one of them, maybe in a larger version of her rabbit snares, and ask questions, or
     she could try to slip in when the bomb wasn’t armed—which, she supposed, was only
     when the mysterious bombers themselves were inside. That didn’t sound safe at all.
    “The best thing to do,” she whispered, crouching lower in the window, “is exactly
     what I’m doing now—watch and wait and hope I can learn something useful.” She sighed.
     “It’s gotten me this far.”
    But the question remained: Should she go tonight or wait for morning? A journey through
     the city would be more dangerous in the dark, but her targets had proven to be incredibly
     cautious—if they knew a flash of light and a trail of smoke had given away their position,
     they might move to a new location, leaving another booby trap in their wake, and Kira
     would lose them. Had the fire been an accident? Would it make them nervous enough
     to run? Kira had no way of knowing, and the uncertainty made her nervous in turn.
     This was one situation where the slow, cautious approach was too risky—she’d already
     lost five days; better to go now, she decided, than to take the chance of losing her
     only good lead. She packed her things, checked her rifle, and began the long descent
     through the pitch-dark bowels of the stairwell.
    Feral cats prowled the lower levels, searching for food with bright, nocturnal eyes.
     Kira heard them moving in the shadows, waiting and watching and pouncing; the hiss
     of predators and the struggling of prey.
    Kira scanned the street carefully before leaving the building, then moved softly from
     car to car, keeping to cover as much as possible. The building with the campfire was
     about three miles north, uncomfortably close to the giant forest of Central Park.
     Wild animals lived throughout the city, but the park was home to most of the big ones.
     Kira traveled as quickly as she dared, keeping her flashlight off and using the moon
     to see. The pale light made shadows deeper and more ominous; it also made the ground
     look smoother than it really was, and Kira stumbled on the rough terrain anytime she
     tried to move too fast. She skirted the west side of the park, watching for animals,
     but there were none out in the open. This was bad news: If there were deer out, it
     would at least give the predators something better to hunt than her. Feral house cats
     were hardly the most dangerous predators in the city.
    A shadow shifted in her peripheral vision, and Kira whirled around to look. Nothing.
     She paused to listen . . . yes . . . there it was. A deep thrum, almost too low to
     hear. Something very big was breathing nearby, not just breathing but purring, almost
     growling. Something very good at hiding.
    Kira was being hunted.
    Before her was a large plaza, the concrete cracked and buckled and dotted with tufts
     of tall, dark weeds; the center statue stood solemn and unmoving. Cars circled the
     edge, their tires long ago turned flat and deflated. Kira backed slowly against a
     wall, cutting off the predator’s lines of attack, holding her breath to listen. The
     deep breathing was there, a bass rumble of giant lungs filling and exhaling. She couldn’t
     tell where it was coming from.
    There are panthers in the city, she