The keys sat next to the laptop. Mitch scrolled down, rubbing his chin and muttering to himself. Behind him, Kathy paced and looked over his shoulder when she passed, taking in bits and pieces of the sites he read.
"This isn't a major excavation. We just need to check out the property." She went to grab the keys, but his hand closed on them first. Her fingers closed on the back of his hand.
"People go into abandoned places like this, some of them to look around or scrounge things. Sometimes homeless people set up shop in them. We want to make sure that we can get around safely."
"There won't be any homeless people." Kathy walked over to the love seat and stretched out across it.
"Maybe not, but it's still an old factory, filled with rotted out sections and rusting machinery. If we're going to look it all over, we'll need to be prepared." He turned around to talk to her. The screen flashed with some promise of prizes, or free porn. Kathy had seen enough of those ads running alongside columns of text describing modern day looting.
"Then let's bring the police to help us make the first round through. Or just ask them if they ever have any problems with the building." She smiled, tapping one of her pink nails against her lips.
"No. Not right away." He turned back to the screen.
"Then, let's just go and do it."
"I'll put together all the stuff we need, and we'll go Friday."
She sighed. "One of these weeks you will need to take me on a proper date, you know."
"This will be. After checking out the abandoned factory we'll get dinner, and maybe catch a movie. In, out, and then on to a fun night."
"Is there time for a shower in there?"
"We won't even break a sweat."
Friday, August 3, 2007
Headhunters, Part 2
Stuck in traffic on the way home, I wished I had a Blackberry. I shuddered even as I made the wish, and looked around the inside of my car to make sure that it hadn't come true. I could remain blissfully unaware of e-mail, even this one. Without even knowing the offer, my brain sizzled with the prospect of escape. As I crawled along Brock Avenue, I knew that it wouldn't really be escape--I'd be trading one brig for another, still shanghaied by life.
The traffic drifted apart, breaking gradually until the flow became even once more. From the corner of my eye I saw a police car and what might once have been a sedan. I kept my eyes ahead of me, careful for the speed traps they set up at the end of the month.
Along the side of the road, the office buildings gave way to stores, which turned into apartments. These came further and further apart, until Brock joined cleanly with a wide swatch of road that took me into the hinterlands around Larch. I peeled off of the road five minutes later, into a dusting of buildings that rose up into what would soon enough be a proper commuter city.
There was plenty of space in the building's parking lot, leaving my car stopped alone on the cracking concrete. I'd gotten an unshaded space, so the car always ended up hot and the tar around it suffered the worst of the freeze-thaw cycle. The management office never had time to handle things like spot change requests, but they did have time to tag your car with annoying fliers and adhesive reminders to not park in an unauthorized spot--what else was security supposed to do out here? There was, after all, a mall near enough that the lot looked appealing to those cruising in.
Before I got to the door, I heard a long, labored "Ahem". It was like someone trying to clear drying caulking out of their throat. I turned and saw a hunched over young man smoking. He leaned against one of the pillars that held up the section of the building that shaded the nice spots in the parking lot. He didn't look like a bum--and I'd never really seen a bum out here.
"So," he said, voice a ruined mess of tar and blood, "you given any thought to the job offer yet?"
The traffic drifted apart, breaking gradually until the flow became even once more. From the corner of my eye I saw a police car and what might once have been a sedan. I kept my eyes ahead of me, careful for the speed traps they set up at the end of the month.
Along the side of the road, the office buildings gave way to stores, which turned into apartments. These came further and further apart, until Brock joined cleanly with a wide swatch of road that took me into the hinterlands around Larch. I peeled off of the road five minutes later, into a dusting of buildings that rose up into what would soon enough be a proper commuter city.
There was plenty of space in the building's parking lot, leaving my car stopped alone on the cracking concrete. I'd gotten an unshaded space, so the car always ended up hot and the tar around it suffered the worst of the freeze-thaw cycle. The management office never had time to handle things like spot change requests, but they did have time to tag your car with annoying fliers and adhesive reminders to not park in an unauthorized spot--what else was security supposed to do out here? There was, after all, a mall near enough that the lot looked appealing to those cruising in.
Before I got to the door, I heard a long, labored "Ahem". It was like someone trying to clear drying caulking out of their throat. I turned and saw a hunched over young man smoking. He leaned against one of the pillars that held up the section of the building that shaded the nice spots in the parking lot. He didn't look like a bum--and I'd never really seen a bum out here.
"So," he said, voice a ruined mess of tar and blood, "you given any thought to the job offer yet?"
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