Erase and Rewind (Full Book)

Chapter Thirteen: Wild Card

September rain drenched Mid City, flushing dirt in its human and object form. There had been complaints, about the Hound and the working boys and girls at night. The former was a sore eye to potential tourists who never came as Mid City had no attractions to offer and the latter was the poster for the declining economy. Notwithstanding the rundown business and the scowl on those condemned to leave the comfort of their beds in weather most considered horrid.

This was at least what the two brisk ladies in crinkled suits spoke of that morning. A café near the one Malik had taken Noah, offered a system where customers could donate a hot drink for anyone who needed it. It applied to any hot drink, not just tea and coffee. Noah guzzled his choice of breakfast, an elixir of dark piping hot chocolate and hints of orange zest.

He walked early to work resisting the urge to break into a jig. He hadn't been caught in the rain for years. His teeth chattered, he was soaking wet and his clothes would be a chore to dry but he was walking in the rain. His skin, which had suffered sunburns in those early days on the streets, danced with goosebumps. The sky's predawn lights, in their lavender hues, were borderline ethereal.

Noah swallowed the final sips of his breakfast, tossed it in the trashcan, and pushed his way to the janitor's room. He left a trail of dripping water and mud in his wake, thanking whatever god existed his boss wasn't around to see the mess before he'd have the change to mop. The building was in a lull, there were faint swishing sounds and tapering against the shuttered windows. Since the doors had been opened, Noah assumed there was the security guard there. The sign-in sheet was blank. The cleaning staff had not yet checked in.

Noah scrawled his name on the sheet and peeled his clothes down to the boxer shorts; his bare feet sent a fresh wave of ice-cold shivers. The rough overalls were too thin and shafted against Noah's skin, the metal clip over the breast pocket shone with N. Davis etched in black. He trembled as he piled his clothes into a ball and took to the nearest bathroom to dry them, wet socks included.

He ran the taps to give his clothes an overdue wash and rinse. He had spent a few hours sleeping a squat since the Hound was not an option. He'd gotten a fair share of grime and stale urine on them at some point. He twisted them up in tight knots to wick out the moisture. The drying came in a howling noise against the relative quiet. Noah sighed when the hot air started to defrost his fingers under the wet pair of jeans. The dryer's cycle whirled to a halt.

That was when he heard he wasn't alone.

The sound came from the hallway. A booming crescendo of thuds. The jeans slipped from Noah's hands to the ground. His bare feet, numb from the cold, stepped over them and followed the faint scuffles piquing his ears.

The sounds continued not from the hallway it seemed but from down the stairs. Noah raced down the ground floor, descending away from the fluorescent lights until he reached the landing and complete darkness. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness and his surroundings came into sharp focus.

There were two rooms with no indicative plates on their doors. From the map Mrs. Forester had him memorize, this was where the archives were. It retained information about the college faculty members and alumni. Possibly information on the student who had been expelled or dealt in suspicious behavior.

It was where Noah had intended to fish enough information to satisfy Malik's questions.

"I can't find..." a voice whispered.

Noah crouched low crossing on palms and knees to the spandrel of the staircase. He hid in the arms of dim shadows.

"Hang on." Another hurried whisper.

Noah brushed the plastered hair on his forehead and chanced a peek through the stairs' metal frames. A girl in a high ponytail and freckles stuck her head out of the door frame. If she was trying for an inconspicuous move, she was failing miserably. The flashlight she held illuminated the specks of dust and cigarette butts under her thigh-high chestnut boots. Noah had no inkling as to what she was doing yet regretted for the once the loss of his camera.