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There was a weather box on the ground.
Well, it used to be a weather box. One of those Stevenson-screen types, the white box with louvred slat sides. It was now on the ground against the security fencing in the far corner, half covered with branches and a palm frond. It was hard to tell if it was intact.
I went to clear off the debris, but Jeremiah stopped me.
“Leave it,” he said. “For now. I’ll need to take some photos first.”
“Oh, sure. Good idea.”
“Let’s have a look inside the building.”
“You mean the prison outhouse?”
He managed a smile. “Indeed.”
We went to the door of the building, and he was getting the keys ready to unlock the old door.
“Wait,” I said, this time stopping him. “There could be critters.”
He looked to his feet. “What kind? Are there snakes here? On this tiny island? How did they get here?” Then his eyes almost bugged out of his head and he took a large step backwards. “Are there frogs here?”
“Truth be told, I’m not up to date on the exact eco-life of this island. I’d reckon, given the whole island is covered in these kinds of shrubs that seafaring birds are the main inhabitants. They’re gonna take care of the snake and frog problem.”
Okay, so some itty-bitty white lies to make him feel better weren’t gonna hurt either of us.
“But I should probably just check, just in case.”
He handed me the keys and took another step back.
The real truth was, I had no idea what could be in this shack. It didn’t look like a human had been here in a few years, at least. But odds were there were other kinds of visitors. And probably the bitin’ kind because, let’s be real, most critters in the Territory were.
I picked up a fallen branch from a shrub and after opening the door, I nudged it open with my foot, holdin’ the branch like a weapon. I’d rather a startled snake get a fang full of dried leaf than my leg, thanks.
But inside... there was nothing.
And I mean nothing.
Well, there were some old meters on the wall, like the real old electricity metres from the fifties or somethin’. There was a ladder propped against one wall, and there were swirls of undisturbed dirt on the concrete floor. Jeez, even the spiderwebs here and there looked abandoned.
Jeremiah peered in from the doorway. “I will never complain about my office again.” He went in and looked at the meters, clearly tryin’ to determine what they were for.
“How is this powered?” I asked. There sure as hell wasn’t electricity here. “Solar?”
He nodded. “I guess there’s a small panel on the roof.” He pointed to one meter that resembled a modem—if they had modems back in the 1970s. “That’s a VSAT.”
“A what?”
“A very small aperture terminal.”
I snorted. “For real? That’s what VSAT stands for? Clearly people who got to name shit lacked imagination.”
He smiled. “It’s a ground station for the satellite dish.” Then he tapped the meter itself. “There should be lights, so the connection is broken between here and the satellite on the roof.”
“Just a quick question,” I said.
He turned to me, waiting.
I gestured to the meters and the room. “What the honest fuck?”
