CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Reid
The plan sucks. I don’t even know if they really thought this through.
If this was a movie, I would be screaming at the television about how ridiculous this is.
We are in three cars. Max has to get back for afternoon football practice at the school, since they think he’s at a doctor’s appointment right now.
That’s the first car, which will go to the south side of the building and will be the starting point for Max and Liam.
Car two is Maverick’s, who didn’t feel comfortable having no vehicle close if something goes awry.
He and Jaxon will be entering on the north side of the building.
Isaac and I have taken my truck and will take the east. Obviously, we are going to meet at the entrance of the west wing of the building.
And it sucks.
There are three floors to this monstrous building.
Three floors. If Liam is right and the west wing has had construction done, then we are basically giving him a heads up that we are here.
It’s messed up. All of it. Jaxon and Liam’s argument had been the unloading of the materials there could have just meant easy access.
He could have set up home in any part of the building.
Since the building doesn’t have any neighbours, and only a little bit of traffic driving through, we decide to keep a little distance from the building.
There’s enough space between the car and the building that in case of an emergency, we won’t need to go far to get back to the car.
But we’re not close enough that we may as well blare the horn to announce our arrival.
We step out of the car, which is hidden in a canopy of trees, and begin to walk to the building.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask Isaac. He’s been quiet, which isn’t like him.
He’s normally the talker in the family, the one who always has a cutting or sassy remark to make.
I’ve never seen him like this; lost. It’s like he’s having a war inside his own mind, and there’s no end.
He’s rarely at home anymore either, which isn’t out of character because I feel like Luke has been the same.
It’s like he remembers I’m here when he snaps out of his daze. “Um, yeah. Yeah. Just, um... It’s nothing.”
The flesh between his eyebrows rolls together again, and I know I’ve lost him to his own thoughts.
I want to push him to talk—something I’ve never had to do before—but there’s a voice in the back of my mind screaming at me to back off.
Instead, I say, “If something is going on, you can talk to me about anything. You know that, right?”
I swear his cheeks turn red. I’m sure of it. But the weather is scorching so he could just be hot. “Thanks,” he replies, lowering his voice. “We should concentrate on this.”
“This dumb plan you mean?” I question, earning a chuckle.
It takes us fifteen minutes to hit the area Jaxon ordered us to start with.
He snorts as he glances up at the brick building that has seen better days.
Scaffolding runs along the wall, curving around to the side.
The rendering is peeling off in most places, and a few of the lintels above the windows and doors look a wind away from collapsing.
There’s a tree growing in or out of the bottom window.
I sigh. This place is bigger than I thought it would be.
The building is simple on the outside. It just looks like one square block stuck on a huge piece of land, despite the west wing being bigger and built further into a point, ruining the square description.
In the centre of the building is a courtyard, leaving the centre hollow.
There are tunnel bridges that connect in the middle on the first floor and again on the second.
My phone beeps with a message, so I slide it out of my pocket.
JAXON: Bottom floor isn’t liveable. It has had flooding at some point. Keep an eye out, but I would start on the first floor.
I show the message to Isaac. “I guess we should get inside.”
I stare at the wooden door that reminds me of a door you’d find on a church, not whatever this place is. I try nudging it open with my shoulder whilst pushing the handle down. The heavy wood doesn’t even creak, let alone budge.
“I would suggest using both our shoulders to ram into it, but I have a feeling it’s solid oak. We’ll either have bruised shoulders and egos, or it will make the loudest crashing sound when it falls to the floor,” I admit.
“Let’s go up,” Isaac suggests, pointing to the scaffolding. “It may collapse, but hopefully we won’t need to come back out this way.”
I chuckle as I hoist myself up on the first rail. I use each level of poles as a climbing frame—one that is thankfully not boiling hot from the sun.
I peek through the broken window on the first floor, finding a small room with a rotting bed frame and dusty mattress.
There’s a mahogany chest of drawers to the left of the bed.
Some drawers are closed whilst others have been left open, clothes spilling out like the person was in a rush when they left.
There are two chairs that are very much hospital inventory.
The plastic is peeling, the old foam now black with decay and mould.
Yet even with the medical equipment in the corner, I still can’t make out whether it’s a hospital or a care home.
I climb through the window, groaning when I realise I wore fucking shorts for this. “This is gross,” I complain when my feet hit the linoleum floor. The tattoos running up my leg are now covered in whatever crap is on the windowsill.
Isaac drops inside a little less gracefully and wipes his hands down his white T-shirt, leaving marks. “Why did I wear white?”
“I was wondering the same about my shorts,” I whine.
He glances around the room, shuddering. “You don’t think anyone died in here, do you?”
I shrug. “Who knows?”
“Maybe they filmed The Walking Dead in here.”
I arch an eyebrow as he glances into the room I’m guessing is the bathroom. “Yeah, right. Let’s go before you scare yourself silly.”
“Fuck you,” he murmurs, seeming lost in thought. “But if you hear any deep, guttural sounds or heavy breathing, run.”
We leave the room, walking down the halls, only peeking into rooms if a door is closed. We pass vending machines, reception desks, games rooms, and even a lounge area. But most of the rooms are the same as the one we entered through. Depressing, run down, and mouldy.
“I wish I had worn a mask,” I growl as we make our way down the hallway to where the light outside streams through.
“Jaxon texted the group chat. He said they’re at the tunnel bridge and want to meet in the middle,” Isaac explains.
The tunnel bridge he’s referring to has to be the worst-built thing in this place.
For one, it’s mostly glass, aside from the floor I am standing on.
Some kids must have trashed the place at some point because bricks have been put through the glass, and there’s spray paint covering parts of the sides.
The design used to build the tunnel is a plus sign, but with bridges shaped like a web halfway to the centre, giving you a shortcut to other wings.
“This floor,” I stress, pressing the toe of my trainers on the decaying, rusty metal. It isn’t as steady as I would like.
“Watch the holes,” Isaac warns, gripping the handrail running along the side. “Jax also said to avoid the bridges that split off, and said to go straight to the centre.”
I nod and stand on the other side. “Keep to the beams.”
Shit, this place is a death trap. I’m grateful the weather is what it is today, because walking down here with gusts of wind would be a lot worse.
I hear low voices as we near the centre. Liam and Max are already there, staring down the west wing tunnel bridge. Jaxon and Maverick come into view, and I notice their tunnel is the worst. Each of them are walking on a beam, but Maverick’s beam seems to be bouncing with each step he takes.
“Talk about taking your time, old man,” Max whines.
Maverick slips, but Jaxon is quick to reach out, steadying him. Maverick glares at his brother. “You’ve made it this far in life by sheer luck. Don’t make me cut it short,” he snaps.
Max snorts. “Like I’m scared. You’ve just slipped off a beam you could ride a bicycle on.”
Maverick glares at him. I’m pretty impressed he doesn’t push his brother off the edge. The beam Max is talking about is smaller than the width of Maverick’s trainer. I’m surprised he hasn’t slipped off.
“What’s the hold up? Why couldn’t we use the safer tunnels?” Maverick questions.
“You didn’t see the cameras?” Liam asks.
I tense. “Cameras? I didn’t see any.”
He holds up a tablet. “Yep. They are halfway down the tunnel. I managed to hack into them but there are a few that I can’t. There are no blind spots down them. But this one, I’m not picking up any signals.”
My eyes meet Isaac’s. It can’t be this easy, can it? Surely, he can’t be here. Not at the first tip we’ve had.
“So let’s go,” Isaac suggests, looking just as eager as I feel.
Liam sighs. “Come take a closer look.”
Isaac jumps onto the platform, and I follow. I wince at the state of the tunnel Liam is expecting us to walk down. “Could you not disarm the other cameras?” he squeaks.
“No. He will have them on screens if they are here. Let’s just take this slow.
I don’t think we need to search the whole floor.
There is something here. And if I’m picking this up right, all of the signals lead to this building.
” He holds out his tablet, bringing up a digital copy of the blueprints, and points to the tower on the top floor of the west wing. “We need to get to there.”
“So you’re telling me to get to the west wing, we have to get across that?” I ask.
“Yes,” Liam confirms.
My eyes bug out as I point to the tunnel. “Liam, there’s no fucking floor.”