The Waking Moon

Chapter Thirty-Five

I drove along the winding roads that meandered through empty fields east of the freeway, occasionally passing abandoned office blocks that had been built during more prosperous times. Now mud spattered real estate signs sat on the edge of each empty lot, nearly forgotten. There were no shops or restaurants or warehouses or even salvage yards anywhere in sight. It was just prairie grass and barbed wire.

The Volvo rumbled noisily over the neglected asphalt, bouncing sharply over ruts and through the constant slushy potholes. I surveyed the landscape, trying to make sense of it in relation to my badly scrawled map. Fear and anticipation hummed just beneath the surface, but I forced myself to stay focused and clear. Whenever I asked myself what I was going to do, the only answer that came to mind was something.

I’d been searching up and down the back roads for almost an hour when I saw the solitary office block emerge from the wasteland. It was a squat, ugly building with black tinted windows and dull gray bricks. But at the entrance stood a bizarre atrium of tinted glass, an obviously recent addition.

There were no cars parked in the asphalt lot in front of the building. But that has to be it, I thought. There’s nothing else out here. I continued past the lot and pulled into a gravel turnout down the road. I sat staring out at the vacant yellow field. A flock of red-winged black birds burst into the air, and I watched them make a wide circle over the field before settling into the weeds again. What are you going to do? I reached around for the rifle and carefully loaded it. Something.

The sun was bright but the air was cold. I crunched through frozen patches of snow, holding the rifle low. The ground was lumpy with vole holes and little hillocks, and I had to move carefully to keep from turning an ankle. A train whistle wailed from somewhere nearby, so close I could hear the wheels clicking over the tracks. The call of the wild. I ducked down in the tall weeds and skirted the edge of the parking lot. As I rounded the southern most end, I stopped short. There were two black SUVs parked side by side. Beside them was a white Mercedes. 

“I got you,” I muttered under my breath.

Still without a plan, I circled the building again. I noticed a small black surveillance camera just below the second floor windows on the two sides that faced the parking lot. There was no way inside other than the double doors at the front of the building and a fire door on one side. But then I discovered that around the back, where the building butted up against the field, there was a series of small, rectangular windows just below ground level, inside a recessed, concrete gutter. There was an iron railing running the length of windows, but it was low enough to easily clear. These windows weren’t tinted, which meant there were no Noirs down there in the daytime. As I took a closer look, I noticed a long, diagonal crack descending from the upper corner of one window, etching halfway across the glass. 

Maybe I should wait for Jack, I thought. But I couldn’t wait that long. Rhodes may not even be there by nightfall. It was now or never. Just sneak inside and find him. If we can get out into the sunlight again, we won’t even have to run.

I gripped the rifle tightly and loped toward the building, keeping my head low. I climbed over the iron railing and dropped into the gutter. It was littered with moldering leaves and weeds, and what looked like rat droppings. I gave the splintering glass a nudge with the butt of the rifle, and it tinkled to the floor in a cascade of dirty shards. I ran the muzzle along the window frame to clear the glass from the edge. In the diffuse light of the windows I could make out the empty, low-ceilinged room with stark cement pillars and a concrete floor.

I climbed inside and dropped to the floor. It was cold and dusty, and the air smelled damp. An industrial furnace hummed from behind a black door across the room, and there was the constant drip of water coming from somewhere in the darkness. I held the rifle close to my body and approached a gray door that said STAIRS. I released the rifle’s safety catch and opened it.