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When he realized that he was actually a danger on the road and since it was dusk and hard to see- or maybe that was just the anger and fear blurring his vision, he’d pulled over near one of their old haunts. He and Chance used to come there all the time as teenagers, when they were old enough and finally got their license.
It was a part of town no one went to unless they specifically had a reason to be there and given that the warehouse and the ancient water tower had been abandoned for nearly two decades, no one had a reason to be there.
He’d been surprised that no one had bought the place. After the whole stock market thing turned him into a rich man, he’d done some digging, only to find out the real reason no one wanted to take a chance on it. It needed millions and millions of dollars of remediation. The warehouse had been an old factory, where they baked bread, and the giant ovens were coated in asbestos. It wasn’t dangerous until it was moved, but the cost to clean the whole thing up was astronomical. Then there was the whole leaning, rusty, shitty tower on the property. It stood up there like an afterthought and no amount of enquiries into the property could tell him why it was there in the first place.
It was ancient. The blue paint had faded into a rusted dull brown over the years and at present, it was almost completely that color. Any name that was emblazed across the face of the old behemoth was long gone.
The stairs up the side were still there. So was the dubious platform above, bordered by an even shadier railing.
Ross knew he wouldn’t fall to his death. He’d climbed those metal stairs probably a thousand times in his life. He glanced up once, the sun riding so low in the sky it had disappeared almost completely, blanketing everything below in a smudge of grey that would turn to an inky black soon. The warehouse had no lights and the properties around it, located in an ancient, industrial part of the city, were either also abandoned, in a state of stasis, or weren’t operational at night.
There were almost no lights. The bakery drew wayward, angsty people like a mecca for the broken and ruined. He wasn’t sure how many souls had called the place their place over the years. If the tower could talk, he wasn’t sure he’d want to know about the things it had seen. He and Chance used to drive up and sometimes they’d see the sweeping beams of flashlights coming from inside the factory, which looked more like a dilapidated brick heap than anything. They always peeled out of there fast. He had no doubt the place had been used for some sinister purposes over the past few decades, but most people who came probably just wanted an escape from the world for a few hours.
The place wasn’t even known for having wild parties or squatters. At least not that he’d ever encountered or heard about. It was too far out in the middle of nowhere, and not worth most people’s time or energy to get out there. The special few that treasured it though… it was worth every single ounce of effort and minute out of their lives.
The metal was cool in his hand, though the day had been a scorcher. San Jose in June was the equivalent of stuffing yourself into a dry sauna during the day and the nights weren’t much better. AC’s and pools were a staple most people didn’t dare go without.
The tower groaned and shuddered as he climbed up to the platform, but it held fast, like it always had. It did have a definite lilt when looking at it from afar, but somehow, from up top, he’d never felt it.
He crested the top, grabbed the guard rail, and was ready to step over when he stopped dead. A shadowy form, willowy and lithe, was already huddled up, her back against the tower, her legs dangling through the railings. Her scent hit him, like the scent of fresh rain and flowers, like a punch right to the face.
Incredibly enough, she didn’t turn to stare at him. She didn’t seem to notice he was there at all.
Then her little, deep breaths reached him, and he realized she was sleeping. Sleeping on top of a water tower in the middle of freaking nowhere in the near pitch-black darkness. Alone. By herself. A tiny little slip of a woman who wouldn’t be able to defend herself against a house fly, let alone some big brute who could easily climb up and have their way with her.
Like he had in the alley.
Ross heaved himself over and when his rubber soled canvas shoes hit the platform, he made sure his entire weight was behind them. The entire tower seemed to groan when he came down.
