From the Ashes by Eliza Nolan

Author:Eliza Nolan [Nolan, Eliza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: E. N. Publications
Published: 2017-06-26T05:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

Stumbling across the dark street, Graham and I raced after Gemma and Ferah.

“Come on,” Ferah shouted back to us.

“You okay?” Graham said, catching my elbow in time to rescue me from a near face-plant.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m just not used to these cobblestone walks.”

We scurried along the deserted street, lined with crumbling houses. Stacked together, these three-story homes were more like skeletons of what once was. Doors, windows, walls and even floors had been removed, leaving only shells of the former structures behind. One solitary streetlight dangled from wire strung over the street between the vacant homes, illuminating the desolation.

The taxi had left us a few blocks away so nobody would see us coming, and we were doubling back, headed towards a warehouse area next to port. The air was thick with the smell of seafood and exhaust. The massive cranes that maneuvered shipping containers out to the ships towered silently over the old, brick buildings. The only sound, save for the scuffing of our feet against the street, was a soft lapping of water to one side.

Ferah lead the way around a corner and immediately scampered back, pulling up against the wall.

“There’s someone outside,” she whispered.

Just out of the halo of the streetlight a man leaned against the brick wall of a large, three-story building. Weather worn boards covered the first-floor windows, but further up, the glass was uncovered, and hardly a pane was unbroken. A patch of the third-floor was lit by moonlight, as a section of the roof was missing; the rest of the inside was completely dark.

“Is that really the place?” I asked.

Ferah shrugged. “It’s what the text said.”

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s in there.”

Gemma tugged my sleeve and pointed further down the street. A low basement window was faintly lit up, as if by candle light. It was so dim; I hadn’t noticed it before.

The man out front dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk, stepped on it and headed down the street away from us, leaving the building unguarded and seemingly deserted.

“So, was he just hanging out?” Graham asked from behind me.

“No clue,” Ferah said. “I guess the coast is clear. Come on.”

We padded alongside the stone wall in shadows then stopped just out of view of the basement window.

Gemma slunk down on all fours and peered in. But her face betrayed nothing as her eyes scanned the inside.

“See anything?” Ferah asked.

Gemma shook her head, popped back up and shuffled past the three of us towards the end of the building.

I peered in, curious. The source of light was a candle set on a card table. It showed a long room with metal bunks lining one of the stark cinderblock walls. The beds were strewn with clothing. Men’s socks. A pair of tighty whiteys. The opposite wall was lined with worn steamer trunks, some open and spilling their contents on the cement floor.

Graham rested his hand on my shoulder. “People live here.”

I nodded.

The door at the far end of the room swung open, and Graham and I crouched back.

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