Page 57 of Lovely Darkness

“It’s not paint on the inside,” Wendy says.

No. It’s not. Because there’s depth to this blackness. But that’s what it kinda looks like.

“It’s a front,” I say. We all pull away from the glass and look at each other. “It’s a fake. There’s no print shop in there.”

“I just got done explaining that there was,” Nate says. Then he looks at the liquor store across the street. “I’ll be right back.”

He crosses, goes inside, and about a minute later, he comes back out shaking his head. “Liquor store guy says that store has been closed for about six months, but every now and then, he sees people poking around over there. And lights on inside at night sometimes.”

“Donovan?” Indie asks.

“Probably,” Nathan says. And then he does something weird. He kinda opens his mouth, like he’s gonna say more, but then changes his mind and shuts up.

His eyes find mine. Just for a brief second. He logs my suspicion and shoots me a look. One I interpret to mean, Later. He will talk to me about it later.

“Well,” I say, deciding to oblige him and not push the issue, “I guess we know where the secrets are.”

We break in.

Nathan wraps his t-shirt around his fist and punches a hole in the glass of the back door facing the alley. Indie gags. “Oh, my God, what is that smell?”

“Yeah.” Wendy covers the lower part of her face with her forearm. “That’s not ink and old books.”

“Smells like dead animals,” I say.

“And chemicals,” Indie offers. Then she gasps. “Oh, shit.”

“Oh, shit what?” I ask.

“Dead animals? Oh, God.” She doesn’t wait for us, just pushes past Nate and follows a long, dark hallway that runs parallel to the outside wall of the building.

We follow her and when we get to the front, we see what that black wall was. Not a wall at all. Unless you consider a massive, industrial-sized set of small animal cages a wall. We were looking at the back. And it’s massive. Floor-to-ceiling. I add up the rows and columns, do a quick calculation, and come up with two hundred. Twenty rows across and ten columns down.

“What the fuck?” Nate whispers.

“Please tell me they are not all filled with dead rats.” Indie’s voice is a little too loud.

But they are.

Nate paces back and forth in front of the cages, frowning. “Why…” He must run out of words. Because that’s as far as he gets.

“Rats,” I say. “Why would Donovan—”

“Carter,” Indie cuts me off. “It wasn’t Donovan. This isn’t Donovan. It’s Carter.”

“O-kay.” I’m not gonna argue with her. But I have my doubts. “Why would Carter need two hundred rats? Anyone?”

“Longevity experiments,” Wendy says.

I point at my genius of a wife. “Ding, ding, ding.”

“What are you talking about?” Nate asks.

“The Company was doing experiments using rats,” I say. “They were looking for eternal life.”

“Oh, not this again.” Indie sighs. “It’s all bullshit.”

“Maybe,” I say.