Chapter Twenty-Five
Every second brought more pain to Roland’s stomach. Gripping cramps sent him to his knees. Roland’s hand vibrated on the blackened floor of the crusher room. The crusher roared beneath him. He had to make it back to Marissa. He waited until the two men disappeared before moving.
Roland circumvented his usual interior path, taking a chance by moving along the outside of the building.
With the cameras disabled, and the seclusion of the plant, he jogged around to the side of the building without too much concern.
He pressed his back against the cold brick, staring into the coal yard as he moved toward the rear of the building.
He passed the hopper—an underground catchall for the coal.
He leaned over and peered into the twenty-foot deep abyss.
A delivery would come later that day. Roland wondered how much time had passed, and if he’d be alive to hear the truck.
He wrapped his fingers around the cool bottle of alcohol.
When he came to the rear of the building, he climbed the stairwell.
The rear of the building was shrouded in tall trees, the stairwell camouflaged, tucked between two tall sections of the building.
During the weeks that Roland had surveyed the property, he’d never seen anyone besides the drivers of the delivery trucks out back.
Without the cameras to contend with, he had nothing to fear.
He reached the roof and hurried to the vibrating generators, quickly hiding between them as he surveyed the roof, then the yard below.
The hum of the generators was comforting to Roland.
In the evenings, during his preparatory missions, he’d found comfort in their constant noise.
The blue sedan in the parking lot caught his attention.
She’d come. Bitch. Roland clenched his jaw.
He had to move quickly. Complete his plan before it was thwarted.
He wound around the generators to the far side of the gravel roof.
The rooftop entrance to the old plant was an awkwardly placed brick structure, no larger than five feet by five feet, at the very edge of the roof.
Roland had found the entrance by accident when he’d first explored Marissa’s workplace.
He stood before the thick, dented metal door, staring at the battered sign that adorned it.
“Threat of asbestos poisoning. Do not enter.” Roland had fashioned the perfect makeshift key to the door.
It had taken him five weeks and ten tries, but he’d done it.
He slipped the sliver of a key into the lock, looking back at the ductwork where he’d dumped the body.
An unfamiliar wave of discomfort washed over him.
He pushed the odd feeling aside, then slipped inside the darkened entrance.
There was no landing. Roland stood on the top step, the stairwell falling away into the darkness.
The stairway seemed to go on forever. Roland followed it down three stories.
The trickling sound of water grew louder as he descended into the darkness.
He was getting closer to where he’d left Marissa.
At last, he was in the sub-basement. At the bottom of the stairs, the stench was undeniable.
Marissa’s diarrhea had taken hold. Good, he thought.
A sense of pride washed over him. His plan was working.
He’d taken care of her. He was worthy of her love.
Wouldn’t his mother be proud? He’d not only found his sister, but he was taking care of her, as he’d promised.
Roland followed the small flow of water through the subbasement to where it poured from a thick metal pipe. He looked up. The grating above was caked with shit. Marissa.
A female voice echoed in the darkened hallway. “H…hello?”
Roland froze. She was there. His past had come back to haunt him. They were here to stop him. He’d show them. Roland’s plans would not be foiled. He’d do whatever it took to be with Marissa. Born together, die together.