Zayde and I looked at each other.
Fuck.
Screw the video.
She was my girl.
I needed to fucking remind her of that fact.
I prayed that we weren’t too late.
THIRTY-ONE
Pulling my hood over my head, I climbed out of the car, closing the door softly behind me. I’d parked a way down the road from the docks, and my very rough thrown-together plan was to scope out the area and see if I could find this boat. As for anything past that—I’d have to wing it when I got there.
The entire docks area was surrounded by high fencing, and the side I was approaching from had a row of shipping containers stacked up next to the fence, and I could see the tops of several large cranes behind them.
I wiped my palms on my jeans, tucked my phone safely into my back pocket, and inched closer. In front of me I could see the entryway. There was an electronically operated barrier with a white painted guard hut next to it, and a camera mounted on the hut. I could see the silhouette of a man inside the hut, but it was quiet other than that.
Edging around the corner, I jumped back as a pair of headlights swung towards me—a truck, leaving the docks. The driver lowered his window to speak to the guard, and I took my chance. I ducked under the barrier, around the back of the truck and across the small expanse of open ground to a long, squat building that looked like some kind of warehouse. It was silent, locked up, so I ignored it for the time being, instead using it for cover.
I noted the cameras on high stalks, and the floodlights illuminating the area, but as luck would have it, there didn’t appear to be anything pointing in my direction. There didn’t appear to be anyone else around, either. I saw two large boats, stacked up with containers, but neither one had the right name. Where was this ship? Had I been wrong in my theory? Maybe the wording actually was Arlo Davis.
No. I was here. I needed to know for sure.
Hugging the wall, I inched around the corner, and there it was.
Jackpot. A small cargo ship bobbed in the water, off to the side of the main docks, in its own berth. The words Argo Navis jumped out at me, in faded white lettering on the black hull.
I watched, frozen in place, as three figures emerged from the boat and entered a large stone building on the edge of the dock. The structure itself was in complete disrepair—the roof looked to be in danger of collapsing, the windows were boarded up, and the brickwork was crumbling.
I remained where I was, no cover between the wall I was hiding behind and the stone building.
I waited. And waited.
Eventually, the figures emerged and returned to the boat. I watched, my heart sinking, as it pulled away from the docks and headed out to sea, soon becoming a distant speck.
What should I do?
I was here—I should at least check the building that the people from the ship had spent so long in.
Tucking my hair into my hood, I made a dash for the building and slipped in through the cracked wooden door that hung partly off the hinges.
It was so dark inside.
With shaking hands, I pulled my phone from my pocket and switched on the tiny flashlight, then swung the light around me to illuminate the space. There was a corridor up ahead, and shining the torch on the ground, I could see boot imprints in the dusty wooden floor, showing me where the people had gone. I shone the torch all around me and noticed a light switch on the wall, but I didn’t dare turn it on, just in case.
I hated the dark.
My breathing was loud in the silence, and the only thought running through my mind was that I should have waited for the Four. I should never have come here on my own. But it was too late to turn back now. I had to find out what was in here.
Slowly, hugging the wall, I made my way down the corridor, the old wooden floorboards creaking underfoot.
I heard a shuffling noise behind me and swung the torch round wildly, my heart in my throat. My light caught a set of eyes in its beam.
A rat. It scampered away, and I sagged against the wall, my heart beating out of my chest. When I felt I could continue, I shone the torch on the floor, following the footprints, and noticed the corridor ended at a solid metal door. I was almost there.
I stumbled along towards the door, keeping one hand on the wall as I went, the stone cold and rough under my fingers.
Creak.
“Hello?” I called out, my voice shaky, my heart hammering and every hair on my body standing on end.
Creak.
A sudden “whoosh.”
A loud crack as something struck my head.
Then.
Every.
Thing.
Went.
Black.