they were locked.
'Satisfied? Now can we go?' Lucy said. The sun had gone down an hour ago and it had turned chilly; she rubbed her arms to warm them up.
'There,' I said, pointing to an overturned trash can and the partially open window above it.
'There what?'
'That's where he goes in,' I said.
Forty-two
The overturned drum made a lousy step and it was flaking and rusted in enough places to make me wonder when I'd had my last tetanus shot.
'Maybe Sam weighs less than we do,' I said, half-joking.
'That's a depressing thought.'
More likely he was just less fastidious about where he put his shoes, or maybe more confident that the crusted lime-green gunk on the drum wasn't toxic.
'The car. We'll move the car under the window and I'll stand on that to get in.' I still had the rental car keys so I didn't wait for Lucy to agree. I kicked the drum over on its side, watching the dregs of the green gunk seep out through the bigger rust spots. Another kick moved the drum out of the way but not before punching a hole in it and spitting a gob of slime on my right pants leg.
Belgian blocks bordered a weedy strip underneath the window where I was sure that Sam had entered the building. The Subaru cleared the first block easily but its undercarriage scraped noisily over the second and third blocks.
'Good thing it's rented,' Lucy said, practically.
I parallel-parked as close as I could to the side of the building, accidentally tapping the drum a couple of times before getting close enough.
'I'll go first,' I said, as if there was any doubt. I climbed onto the hood of the car, then the roof. If I'd had the Jeep, getting in would have been a breeze, but the Subaru was lower to the ground and a longer way up to the windowsill.
I placed my bare hands on the splintered windowsill, wishing I had my heavy-duty work gloves. It took all of my strength to hoist myself up, lock my elbows, and shift my weight onto the windowsill. Thank goodness my Gravitron workouts had prepared me for this, although I rarely found broken glass in my local gym. I seesawed there for what seemed like minutes but was probably only seconds before I wriggled off the frame and dropped inside the building, tearing a nice hole in my hoodie in the process. Outside I could see Lucy pointing her phone at me and snapping pictures.
'You never know. Could be usable,' she said.
'Are you coming?'
She made it to the top of the car, but after three tries still couldn't raise herself up to the windowsill or any place where I might have helped her get in.
'Okay, stay down there. If I'm not back in fifteen minutes dial Babe's number; I've got her phone. If I don't answer, get out of here and call the police.' I walked away to look for Sam.
'Wait, what's her number?'
I gave it to her and she plugged it into their phone's memory.
'Wait,' she yelled again, 'you still have the car keys.' I fished them out of my pocket and tossed them onto the roof of the car. They bounced off and landed in a puddle of ooze near the front tire.
'You know, this was supposed to be a free trip to a spa,' I said. 'So far, I'm not relaxed. You're going to have to get me something really nice at Fendi.'
'Fifteen minutes,' she said, looking at her watch. 'And I
Half of the windows were blacked out and the flood lights from the parking lot gave the floor the look of a checkerboard, light squares mixed with dark, for six feet or so until I reached the center of the floor, where it was pitch black.
'Sam? Sam? Can you hear me? My name's Paula. I was at the hotel the night Nick died.' I heard a rustle and closed my eyes, briefly thinking,
'Your friends at Titans are worried about you. And Georgie, and Claude. Everybody's worried about you. I know you saw something. I was there that night, remember? Come on out, I can help you.'
I ventured farther into the dark, waving my arms around, trying to avoid bumping into anything. Every once in a while I felt a cobweb on my face and that made me catch my breath. 'Sam, are you here?' I was beginning to think he wasn't when I walked straight into the sharp edge of a piece of equipment, tearing a gash in my jeans and my thigh.
'Damn.'
The next sound I heard built slowly, from a small creak to a thunderous explosion. A metal shelf unit filled with spare parts and lubricants for machines that no longer existed teetered, then came crashing down around me. The unit grazed my shoulder but there was no serious damage.
'Gee, Sam, was that on purpose?' I fiddled in my bag for the Taser, terrified that I would shock myself trying to load the cartridge.
'No. Just the vibration.'
I followed the answer and saw him sitting in a corner on an old office chair. I couldn't place the smell, then it came back to me from my last camping trip. He reeked of Sterno.
'Let's get out of here before something else falls, okay?' I reached out a hand to him. He was surprised, but took it. I tried taking him to the window where I had climbed in but he resisted, and I wondered if I was going to have a problem getting him out of the building.
'Door's easier,' he said, picking up a dirty red and white shopping bag and leading me to a door at the opposite end of the floor. Sam and I took the fire stairs two at a time until we reached a side door with a keypad lock that obviously hadn't been changed since the days when he worked at the factory.
Sam knew something was wrong before I did. Maybe you get used to a place—even an abandoned factory building—and can tell when something was out of whack as I'd been able to tell in my driveway, what was it . . . how many days ago?
One thing I did notice was different. Lucy's car was gone. And so was Lucy.
Forty-three
The cellular customer you are trying to reach is not available.
I'd try Lucy again later. She hadn't called but maybe the sound of the crash in the factory spooked her and she went for the cops. Sam and I waited for twenty minutes, then, by unspoken agreement, we started walking.
Ordinarily a seven-mile hike is a piece of cake for me; I'd made it to the top of Half Dome, for pete's sake, but I'd had a pretty full forty-eight hours and my thigh was bloody and throbbing from the cut. And my shoulder was aching from the shelf unit that had winged it. The road had virtually no shoulder and when the occasional car passed, it felt as if we'd be swept under the tires. There were no truckers, who probably would have stopped to help us, just a few kids who came too close, threw beer cans at us, and scared the crap out of me. But not Sam.
We'd walked about a mile when a car, already suspicious because it was going thirty-five with no one else on the road, pulled over fifteen yards ahead of us. The driver checked us out in his side mirror, then leaned out and asked if we wanted a ride.
It was amazing how much safer I felt with the C2 in my bag. I still hadn't fired the thing, but it gave me the confidence to say 'Sure.' Even so, I hopped into the backseat and let Sam ride up front. If I needed to whip out the
