A Dark Trail - Chapter 2

Somewhere else, there's a man in a room. He's standing ramrod straight beneath a bright, narrow light, staring at the barely visible outline of another person. That other person is seated in the darkness that consumes the rest of the room, his left cheek resting on the knuckles of his left hand. His posture suggests an amiable air, but the man in the light is not at ease, waiting for the other to speak.

When he does, it's not good news. "An observer tells me they found the facility."

"That's impossible sir!" The man under the light can't stop the denial from rushing out, even when he knows it's a mistake, not mention pointless. His master wouldn't say that unless it had happened. He's not one for jokes.

The man in the chair's tone doesn't show any sign he took offense, even as he replies, "I recall you telling me as much several months ago. Yet the impossible has occurred."

The man under the lights tries to will himself not to sweat, to no avail. "I'm sure they won't find anything."

"As sure as you were they wouldn't find the location at all?" The question could almost be mistaken for playful teasing. With another person, that might even be what it was. The man in the light knew it wasn't, and even having a sense of how this would end, he had to try and save himself.

"Let me deal with them! It can serve as their tomb!"

"I already made arrangements for that some time ago. You underestimated them, but I did not overestimate you."

There is the slightest lift of the index finger on the right hand from where it sets on the arm rest, followed by the sound of meat being cut. The man in the light reaches unsteadily for his throat before pitching forward onto the floor.

The one responsible is still in shadow, only the weapon and the hand it rests in visible. The blade has just a thin stain of blood on it, and its ivory handle gleams under the light. The hand is pale, long fingers curved loosely around the ivory, the fabric visible at the base of the hand the orange of a stubborn bloodstain washed many times. The person holding it makes no further movement or sound, but the seated figure perceives something nonetheless.

"If this doesn't work, you'll have your chance. Let's see how the others do."

***

In the abandoned building, Cassanee and Calvin climbed the stairs to the top floor, pushing open the door carefully. Unlike the floor below, this one consisted of a long hallway with offices on both sides. Other hallways intersected at right angles further down. The two paused, listening for sounds of movement. Hearing nothing, they moved forward, pausing when they reached the first pair of offices. One door was closed, the other ajar, and they approached that one first. Calvin pushed it open with one hand, as Cass peered in from the other side.

A typical desk sat in front of a window. Cheap metal, cheaper particleboard top, dusty papers and pens scattered over it. Empty bookshelves stood in the corners. Cass stepped in, and Calvin followed after making sure the door across the hall showed no signs of opening. All drawers and cabinets were empty. The papers showed only random doodles, lines drawn in aimless patterns. Calvin glanced out the window on the weedy parking lot. No one had messed with their cars yet, at least.

"I wonder what's in that lab. CAP really wanted to go in," Calvin whispered as they crossed the hall to the other door.

Cassanee tried the knob, but found the door locked. She raised her leg to kick it open, but was stopped by Calvin's hand on her shoulder.

"Let's check unlocked rooms first, try to keep a low profile."

The young woman nodded and continued down the hall. After a few steps she responded, "They want to make sure Pollock doesn't destroy any evidence."

Calvin noted as they reached an intersection that several months in close proximity hadn't improved Cass' opinion of Pollock. He hadn't really expected it to, and as long as they held off on killing each other for now, that would be enough. Checking in both directions, they saw nothing but windows at the end of the halls and more offices. They took the right hallway first.

"That's a possibility, but CAP was concerned about something they smelled when Pollock cracked the door open. I saw the hair on their neck go up."

Cassanee paused to face him. "If there's a threat, why not warn the rest of us?"

Calvin didn't look up from poking through some torn up papers that had spilled into the hall from a kicked over wastebasket. "I'm guessing it wasn't a threat, but something a person would rather not find."

The hall ended at a broken window. The carpet made a wet sound under their feet, and the odor of mold and rot was strong. They paused and stared out the window, surveying the surroundings. It overlooked a dense tangle of woods. From this vantage, there was no hint of what might live in those woods. Calvin's eyes drifted to the sky and he saw an outline reflected in a bit of glass still in place.

He whirled, pulse racing. At the far end of the hall, in the empty pane of another broken window, sat a raven. But nothing more.

"Something wrong?"

Calvin clenched the bat tightly, trying to get his heart to throttle down. He glanced at the woman next to him, who was watching him carefully from beneath her orange hood, curiosity mixed with concern. Cass' instincts weren't telling her anything was wrong; he wasn't sure why his were.

He shook his head. It was probably just because he was less sure he could handle trouble than she was. "Thought I saw someone. Guess not."

They went back the way they came, to the intersection, then across and down the opposite hall, towards the raven. It flew off as they approached, but not before calling, once.

Calvin couldn't decide if it was a laugh, or a warning.