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a chance to hear much because another man walks up to Roy.
Roy tells the kid to scram, and I can see the relieved look on the boy’s face.
It is difficult to make out what either of them is saying, and I just resign myself to wait here until they leave when I hear Bryan’s name.
“He’s pissed, isn’t he?” the man asks Roy.
Roy’s eyes are cold. “He’s gone to see Bryan; maybe take out some of his anger on him.”
The other man winces. “Oh, man. Sucks to be him.” Then, as an afterthought, “You want to help me haul the chair back to the warehouse? He wants the chair there when he arrives.”
He and Roy leave, and I stare after them, blood thundering in my ears.
They know where Bryan is.
And they are on their way to see him!
My eyes fall on the red car. The lock to the trunk is detached.
I stare at it for a few seconds, my heart ricocheting against my chest.
This is a stupid idea, I tell myself, but if I simply follow them, they will most probably lead me directly to Bryan.
Heart pounding, I try to ignore Fergus’s voice in my head, warning me not to do anything reckless. Taking a look down the street to make sure there is nobody there, I rush to the car.
It is quite dark by now, so even if somebody is out, they wouldn’t be able to make me out. Climbing into the trunk, I push myself to the very back and cover my form with a large sack, putting some of the car tools in front of me to disguise my form. I leave a small space so that I can see through it.
I moved just in time, because I hear somebody opening the door and throwing in something heavy. Then, a disgusted sound. “Man, I need to do something about this trunk.”
“Get Jack to take a look at it,” Roy’s companion suggests. “He won’t even charge you.”
Soon after, I hear the car start.
Fear settles in my gut. I take out my phone and turn it on silent. Knowing how much trouble I would get into, I send a quick text to Fergus, telling him what is happening.
I don't get a response, and I realize his phone is charging in his bedroom. Cursing, I send him a message telling him to track me through my GPS.
It is another twenty minutes before the car stops, and the car doors slam shut. Frozen in fear, I remain where I am.
These are men who kill people without a second thought. Cold fear grips me by the throat, making it hard for me to breathe. If I am discovered here, I have little doubt that what they will do to me will be much worse.
But Bryan’s laughing face comes to the forefront of my mind, and I feel my resolve grow. If there is a chance I can get Bryan out of here, I will willingly take that risk.
I check my phone again and see that Fergus didn't respond. If Agatha hadn’t lost her phone, I would have texted her.
Taking a deep breath, I manage to remove the tools in front of me and peek out the slit of the trunk and see only concrete stretching on for miles.
There are no voices either, so I carefully slip out, taking one wrench with me, just in case I need to fight for my life at some point.
Looking around, I blink when I recognize the place. It is the abandoned slaughterhouse on the edge of town. My fingers move quickly over my phone as I text the address to Fergus.
There are three buildings, two warehouses, and the slaughterhouse in the middle, but only the slaughterhouse has a few lights shimmering inside that are visible from the windows. Creeping towards it, wrench in hand, I test the doorknob, and when it opens without any hesitation, I walk in, quietly closing the door shut behind me.
I wince at the smell of old blood, and the dangling hooks and chains make me shiver as sweat pools at the base of my spine. I have never liked this place, even when the kids at the foster home had once gathered here on Halloween. It is too creepy for me.
The building is a large one and a haunting silence, surrounded by soft footsteps, makes me bite my lower lip.
I hate places like these.
