* * * * *
Slinking in the opposite direction that Father O’Brawley had gone, Fiona and I explored the other end of the backrooms. It seemed our luck was holding out because we didn’t come across any rent-a-thug sentries or cultists. Either they had all abandoned their posts or had been dealt with by the Twins.
I prayed my good fortune was spreading to my associates… so desperate for hope, I even ignored the ominous trembling of the floor.
We moved past crates that seemed to have been left out in the rain too long, or boxes that had phrases like “Made in China, assembled in Korea” printed across them. Fiona and I kept searching for any signs of Lorraine or her Soul Scream victims but we had no idea where to even begin our search. Hell, how easy was it to store a vacant body? For all we knew those poor girls were stacked in one of these crates. I had to suppress a shiver, thinking of their pale blue souls, screaming for help as we passed by in the real world, ignorant of their cries.
I remember screaming while trapped outside my own body, putting all my emotion and energy into desperate calls for help…
“What’s wrong?” Fiona whispered, noticing I was rubbing my chest.
Through the thing material of my shirt I could feel my scar tissue, or rather, the freaking genetically/mystically altered ringworm scrawled into my flesh. My stomach churned instinctively as I relived the hell this symbol had forced upon me. The hell that those poor girls were still trapped in.
The hell I needed to rescue them from.
“This wandering is pointless.” I said as we stopped by a conveyer belt of rolling steel cylinders, “She could be in any part of this property or even in one of those damn storage unites out back.”
“Then what should we do?” Asked Fiona, anxiety having filled her with more than enough energy to run around in circles until she found her sister.
Looking around, past all of the boxes and questionable goods that were stacked to the ceiling, I noticed a poorly painted sign that read “First Aid/Eyewash Station” with an arrow pointing further down the hall. With a sudden burst of inspiration, I hurried along the metal rack, following the sign as Fiona hurried to keep up.
Pay dirt.
As it turned out, the first aid station, eyewash station, bathroom and drinking fountain were all located right next to a small manager’s office (undoubtedly designed that way so someone of authority could be on the scene in case of an injury that could result in a lawsuit). Since there were no lights visible underneath the plywood door of the office, I went out on a limb and assumed no one was inside. I tried the doorknob but found it locked. Lacking the time or patience to pick the lock, I reared back, delivering a snap-kick that would have made West proud and knocked the door inward.
Entering the room and hitting the lights, we discovered that the office was a cramped hellhole of unorganized faxes, spreadsheets, inventory logs and other reports. There was a stale scent of coffee in the air, old enough to confirm my suspicions on how long the Daughters of All had controlled this store.
“What are we looking for?” Fiona asked impatiently, her nervous energy demanding she be on the move rather than cooped up in an office.
Opening the top drawer of the lone desk, I discovered a mess of writing tools, crumpled up sticky notes and a half-bottle of gin. Still feeling a little bit lightheaded from my self-medicated dosages of whiskey, I found the willpower to ignore the bottle and continue my hunt.
“Floor plans, inventory memos, anything that’d help us get our bearings!” I replied as I poured through the mess of documents, “We can’t just run around and hope we find Lor…your sister. We need a starting point for our search.”
Abandoning the desk, I turned in a circle, looking about the office. Dust covered the filing cabinets and cobwebs coated their handles, so they were out. The desk was also a bust. The overflowing waste basket might be a better cache of notes but I highly doubt that it would have any layout sketches or storage plans. Three steps across the office took Fiona to the small counter that jutted out of the wall. The countertop was also buried in yellowed papers, a few foul-smelling coffee cups and old food wrappers. She hunted diligently through the pile as I did a second sweep across the desk and its contents.
“So, like a map?” Fiona asked, more to shoo away the oppressive silence than anything.
“Yeah. Something that might give us some idea to where the cult would set up shop inside the building.”
“Hmm…log book…”
“No.”
“Fork lift manual…”
“Already know how to drive one. Keep looking.”
“Hmmm…a packet issued by the new owner…”
“No…Wait, what?” I asked, turning around to face Fiona, “What’s the date on that?”
“Um…it’s a few months old.”
The first reports of the Daughters of All cropping up in this city were from a few months back. About the same time of Faye’s death or at least, possession. So if the cult was securing a foothold in this city around that time, it would only make sense they would have also acquired the use of both Hell Scratch and the Ocean Grocer a few months ago as well.
“Give it here.” I said, turning around and collecting the poorly stapled stack of papers.
Cringing as I peeled the first page open to find a wad of ancient gum stuck between the papers, my eyes went into overdrive as I scanned the print. For all I knew this could be a worthless “we’re a team!” packet issued by the new owner in an attempt to pretend to care about employees but if we were lucky…
“Bingo!” I exclaimed after flipping through a couple pages.
“What is it?” Fiona asked, wound up so tight she would have been pacing the office if there had been room.
“The new owner wanted the upper storage spaces cleared out. That was his top priority when he bought this place.” I informed her while continuing through the poorly stapled packet, “Then asked all the managers to turn in their keys to those particular areas. Suspicious?”
“Maybe he just wanted to renovate the place!” Fiona pointed out, “This is a waste of time!”
The stress was obviously eating at her.
“Renovate this dump? Not likely.” I replied evenly, able to keep my cool thanks to the unfortunate amount of danger I had been exposed to all my life. Tearing out one of the pages from the packet, I held it up so Fiona could see. A crude map had been printed onto the lower half of the page with sections of the backroom highlighted.
“They included a new map showing the areas that were off limits,” I informed Fiona with as little gloating as my ego would allow, “This…”
I tapped the bottom corner of the page that showed a particular corridor with a stairwell. According to the map, the stairwell led to a catwalk which in turn, led to the upper storage areas of the Ocean Grocer.
“…is where I am heading. If no manager had access to this area, it must be important to the owner and the cult who controls him.” I concluded.
Fiona gave me an ashamed and apologetic glance, “I’m sorry for doubting you. I-I am just so worried. So scared!”
Giving her my most reassuring grin, I headed for the door.
“If this is a manager’s office, there will likely be a phone or a radio that can access the PA system. Find out how that works and once you do, give Buggy a call.” I instructed her, reaching into my pocket and tossing her my cell phone, “Oh and don’t worry about your sister. I’ll take care of her.”
Locking the door before exiting, I started jogging to the stairwell that would take me to the upstairs and hopefully to Lorraine. Guilt managed to twist my insides into knots because what I hadn’t told Fiona is that one way or the other, I was putting a stop to Lorraine.
Even if I had to kill Faye’s body to do it.
* * * * *