Page 33 of Traces of Kara

When he came to the rear of the building, he climbed the stairwell. The rear of the building was shrouded in tall trees, the stairwell camouflaged, tucked between two tall sections of the building. During the weeks that Roland had surveyed the property, he’d never seen anyone besides the drivers of the delivery trucks out back. Without the cameras to contend with, he had nothing to fear.

He reached the roof and hurried to the vibrating generators, quickly hiding between them as he surveyed the roof, then the yard below. The hum of the generators was comforting to Roland. In the evenings, during his preparatory missions, he’d found comfort in their constant noise. The blue sedan in the parking lot caught his attention. She’d come. Bitch. Roland clenched his jaw. He had to move quickly. Complete his plan before it was thwarted. He wound around the generators to the far side of the gravel roof. The rooftop entrance to the old plant was an awkwardly placed brick structure, no larger than five feet by five feet, at the very edge of the roof. Roland had found the entrance by accident when he’d first explored Marissa’s workplace.

He stood before the thick, dented metal door, staring at the battered sign that adorned it. “Threat of asbestos poisoning. Do not enter.” Roland had fashioned the perfect makeshift key to the door. It had taken him five weeks and ten tries, but he’d done it. He slipped the sliver of a key into the lock, looking back at the ductwork where he’d dumped the body. An unfamiliar wave of discomfort washed over him. He pushed the odd feeling aside, then slipped inside the darkened entrance. There was no landing. Roland stood on the top step, the stairwell falling away into the darkness.

The stairway seemed to go on forever. Roland followed it down three stories. The trickling sound of water grew louder as he descended into the darkness. He was getting closer to where he’d left Marissa. At last, he was in the sub-basement. At the bottom of the stairs, the stench was undeniable. Marissa’s diarrhea had taken hold. Good, he thought. A sense of pride washed over him. His plan was working. He’d taken care of her. He was worthy of her love. Wouldn’t his mother be proud? He’d not only found his sister, but he was taking care of her, as he’d promised.

Roland followed the small flow of water through the subbasement to where it poured from a thick metal pipe. He looked up. The grating above was caked with shit. Marissa.

A female voice echoed in the darkened hallway. “H…hello?”

Roland froze. She was there. His past had come back to haunt him. They were here to stop him. He’d show them. Roland’s plans would not be foiled. He’d do whatever it took to be with Marissa. Born together, die together.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Where’d she go?” The office was empty when Ted and Jackson returned.

“She was going to the bathroom, remember?” Jackson said.

“Yeah, but she’s like Speedy Gonzales in there, and we’ve been gone,” he looked at his watch, “thirty-five minutes.”

“Maybe she hung around and just left to find the bathroom.”

Ted sat in a chair. “Yeah, you’re right. Give her a few minutes. She’s probably cleaning the sinks for you.” He laughed.

A blueprint of the plant was tacked on the wall. Certain areas were outlined in red.

“What’s that?” Ted asked.

Jackson sat on the side of the desk. “The old plant is on this side,” he pointed to the sections circled in red. “And the newer plant is here.” He ran a finger around the other side of the paper.

“Why didn’t they just tear down the old one when they built the new one?”

Jackson turned to the file cabinet behind the desk and opened the drawer. He removed a thick, hanging file folder and began leafing through it. “When they close the plant, they’re finally going to tear that part down. No one goes over there anymore. Talk about ghosts.” He laughed.

“Why not tear down all of it? Put something less of an eyesore up?” Ted asked.

“That’d be nice, right?” Jackson pulled a thick stack of papers from the folder. “This place is an icon. The town would be lost without it—even its presence. You should have read the documents from when they built the newer building. You’d have thought the power company was telling the residents that they could no longer walk upright.” He set some papers down on the table and unfolded them. The blueprint of the new section of plant, the part they were in, lay before them. Jackson put another stack of papers next to it, and unfolded them, exposing the blueprints for the old building. He slid the two next to each other, creating a map of the entire plant.

“Well, look at that.” Ted said.

“Yeah, can’t say I’ll miss this old place when I retire. I’ve done all I can do.” Jackson sighed. “I’m glad I stuck it out and didn’t retire early. But it’s time. Even the thought of the basement wears me out. I’ve spent far too many years in the underbelly of this old plant.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kara turned to the side and retched again, dry heaving until her chest hurt. Paul’s eyes stared right past her. A stream of dried blood ran from his open mouth to his chin. Kara choked on her voice. “P…P.” She pushed with her feet to inch backward. “Oh, God,” she said. “Oh, God.” Her eyes darted frantically around the small room. The walls were too close, the smell too overpowering. Panic sent her to her feet, her hands flat against the wall behind her. She inched toward the doorway, her eyes locked on Paul’s dead body.

She quickly peered out of the room—which way to run? The wrong way could lead to Roland, the right way to safety—or more dead bodies? Oh, God, what if he killed Paige and Joe? Jackson? Kara looked back at Paul again, her mind a whirlwind of terror. She fought the urge to curl up behind one of the barrels and hide until someone, anyone, found her. How long had she been gone? Why weren’t the police looking for her? Kara closed her eyes, counted to three, took a deep breath, and bolted down the hall to the right.

Relief swept through her when the hallway up ahead widened. She recognized the hall leading to the elevator, and knew the way to the secret entrance she’d used with Dean; it was down the dark, narrow passageway and to her right. The elevator landed with a clank and thud. Kara ran down the dark hallway, toward the secret entrance, her arms ahead of her, her gait frantic and unsteady. She reached the end of the passage and turned right; as she headed into the center of the open chamber, she slipped on a puddle. She yelped, landing hard on her tailbone. Shocks of pain radiated up her spine. Tears poured down her cheeks. She pushed off the floor and to her feet, her butt and legs covered with thick, red liquid. Kara stumbled backward. Blood. Her low moan filled the room. She slapped her hand over her mouth. Stumbling forward and leaning over the puddle of blood, she heaved. With nothing left to expel, she gagged. Kara backed toward the boarded up entrance. She had to get out of there. She was next.

She clawed at the slats of wood. Splinters tore into her nail beds. She grit her teeth, pushing out pained, hindered breaths with each pull. Sweat beat down her forehead. Come on, come on. Kara stole looks behind her toward the silent, darkened passage from which she’d come. A chunk of wood fell away. She took purchase on the edge and pulled with all her might. A slash of the night sky filtered in through the opening, along with a few raindrops. She scrambled to pull away more of the wood. The center splintered and cracked, but the edges held firmly against the wall.

A muffled scream filtered through the hallway behind her. Shit! Kara frantically tried to pull the rest of the wood free. Grasping with both hands at the splintered pieces, she set her foot against the wall, and pulled back using all her weight.

She turned toward the scuffle in the hallway—a loud slap, a pained gasp, the sound of the wind being knocked out of the weaker opponent. Kara fell backward when the wood broke free, landing on the floor with a yelp. She rolled onto her knees. Every movement sent searing pains through her limbs. The full evening light now shone through the opening. Safety. She had to reach it. She crawled toward the opening. Her fingers clawed at the concrete as heavy, determined footsteps neared.

She used her sneakered feet to scramble up to the opening again, pulling with all her might. Her toes slipped down the wall. She pulled herself up again, her muscles pierced with pain. She hooked her elbows into the hole, ripping a gash along her right arm. She prayed for strength. Her face stung from the coolness of the outside air and the rain that pelted her raw, bloodied cheeks. She eased her body out the window and hung there, painfully, while she clawed at the soft, rain-soaked ground. She heaved her chest up and out of the opening, and dragged her body from the building, scraping her stomach against the shards of rusted metal and broken wood.