AFTER SEARCHING EVERY other entrance to the plant, I found a small side door that wasn’t padlocked. I reached for the handle and prepared to pull with all my might but was surprised to find the door swung open easily.
The door led right onto the factory floor, a cavernous space that stretched into shadowy corners too dark for me to see. The vast emptiness of the room threw me off for a moment, though of course the plant’s owners would have sold off any valuable equipment before closing the doors on this place. As I walked slowly across the dusty cement floor, I saw only a few shapes strewn about: some rusted tracks that might have once held a machine in place, corrugated bars of metal lying haphazardly under a window, a rusted beam that looked like it had fallen from the ceiling.
I walked quickly across the large space, moving toward the darkened offices on the other side of the room. Large interior windows opened up into these smaller office areas. I imagined that managers and supervisors used to stand behind those windows, overseeing the giant metal machinery at work on the other side.
I passed through the entrance to a hallway, which had doors on either side providing access to the small offices. I pushed open one door and walked directly into a huge spiderweb, filaments sticking against my cheeks and hair. Shuddering, I backed away.
I only took two more steps down the hallway before I heard it: a small scratching noise, coming from somewhere in front of me. I stood still and held my breath, waiting to hear the noise again. I took out my phone and turned on my flashlight app, swinging it up and around the walls of the hallway, but I couldn’t see anything that might have made any sort of noise. I knew I hadn’t imagined it, though.
After another moment, I heard the scratching noise again. It was definitely coming from the end of the hall. I slowly made my way farther into the darkness, keeping my right shoulder close to the wall and continually looking behind to make sure nothing could sneak up on me.
It’s nothing, I thought.
A small voice in my head responded, or it’s something. The voice sounded something like Dex’s.
Knock it off.
I imagined Dex’s response—Anyone could be hiding in this building. . . . It’s abandoned, the perfect place for someone—or something—to hide.
My heart pounded as I neared the end of the hall, which turned left into another smaller corridor. I swung my phone in that direction in time to see a dark shape shoot across the floor.
I jumped and let out a little yelp, and my phone slipped from my hand, hitting the ground before I could catch it. I quickly snatched it up, holding it out toward the second corridor, where the light flashed a glare into a pair of yellow eyes that were fixed in my direction. I almost screamed again before the eyes blinked, then darted quickly away. I saw a brown-and-black striped tail swish twice and then scurry into darkness.
A raccoon.
“See, I was right,” I said, letting out a relieved sigh. Then I remembered that I hadn’t actually been talking to anyone, and I felt stupid. It was irritating, hearing Dex’s voice in my head. Knowing what he’d say if he were here. But at the same time I suddenly and annoyingly wished for him to be by my side. Arguing with him in real life was much better than arguing with the Dex in my head.
And it would take my mind off my fear.
I walked quickly down the second corridor, flashing my light up all around me. A paper poster was still fixed to the cinder-block walls. On it, stick-figure men carried out proper safety procedures. Those who did it wrong were covered in large red Xs. Eventually, the corridor dead-ended in a metal door. It had no window, just simple blocked words that hadn’t faded even after all this time: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
The lock on the door was broken, and it was slightly ajar.
A familiar feeling rose up in me then—the rush of adrenaline that told me I might be on to something good, a break in the story. Maybe all these open doors were a sign that my dad had already been here. The door opened up onto a metal stairway that was basement-level dark, the kind that prevented you from seeing your own hand in front of your face. Even with my flashlight app, I could only see ten feet in front of me as I moved quickly down the stairs, each step creaking heavily under my feet.
The stairs opened up into another hallway. This one was entirely different from the cinder-block hall upstairs. It didn’t look like it belonged in a plant at all, but maybe in some kind of hospital or sterile facility. The walls of the hallway were smooth and white, and painted black doors were set in them every twenty feet or so. The first door had writing on it—X01. The next door was labeled X02. Without even stopping to look in these rooms, I continued walking until I reached a door on my left—X10.
X10-88. The first part of the number that had been scrawled on Dad’s business card matched the number on this door. That couldn’t be a coincidence. But what did it mean? Had my dad’s notes been referring to this specific room?
I heard a light thumping noise, then, and I turned around, aiming my flashlight at the opposite door, the one labeled X09. The door was closed, and though I waited several seconds, I didn’t hear the noise again. Probably another animal.
Instead, I reached out and pushed open the door of room X10. I put my hand with the flashlight inside first, scanning it around the room, heart tripping in my chest. First one corner, then another, then another—
Nothing.
Or not nothing, but certainly nothing earth-shattering. The windowless room was almost completely empty, except for a small metal table set up against one wall. The wall had blackened scorch marks in places, as if pieces of it had been set on fire. The table pushed against it was about six feet long, and it reminded me almost of the type of examination table you’d see at a doctor’s office . . .
. . . or a morgue.
But that couldn’t be right. . . . What would an examination table be doing at a plastics plant?
I took one step farther into the room, and that’s when I felt it—a rush of air, not quite a breeze, but a movement. Like someone was coming up fast behind me—
And then my phone fell, its light blinking out, and then—
Then—
Then . . .