nowhere else to go, Matt.” Then he looked up at the building, a wry grin on his face that showed he did not find the building as imposing as Matthew did. “You think he went inside?”
“I don’t know.” He looked around but couldn’t see a way into the building; the doorways had been filled in with concrete years ago. Similarly, the windows were comprised of tiny gridded panes overlaid with iron bars and wire meshwork. As he looked, he saw—or imagined he saw—shapes swimming in the warped and colored glass of the windows. Anything could be beyond those milky, opaque cataracts of glass, he realized. Anything. It was an unsettling thought.
“There’s no one here,” Dwight said again, emerging from beneath the shade of the overhanging trees. A cloud of mosquitoes orbited his head and he swatted at them, scowling.
“Boost me up so I can have a look in those windows,” Matthew said.
“There’s nothing to see, Matt. The glass is covered in muck. Anyway, it’s pitch-black inside.”
“Just boost me.”
Grunting, Dwight sidled over, laced his hands together, and held them out for Matthew to utilize as a sling. Placing his hands on Dwight’s shoulders, Matthew stepped one foot into Dwight’s cupped hands and Dwight, groaning, hoisted him up.
Matthew’s eyes rose just above the windowsill. Indeed, the thick glass was cloudy with age, reinforced with industrial meshwork from the inside. With the heel of one hand he attempted to rub away the grime but it was too caked on. Decades of dirt and filth had become solid as cement.
Then, through the cloudy panes of glass, the breathy twist of an image flickered inside the darkened building. It was like watching a candle flare briefly to life before being snuffed out.
“Hurry,” Dwight groaned from below.
“I think I see something.”
“You’re too heavy.”
A second later, Dwight’s hands gave out. Matthew dropped straight down into the grass, instantly lost his footing, and fell backward on his tailbone. Dwight snorted a laugh and leaned, panting for breath, against the side of the building.
“Do you think we can find a way in?” Matthew said, climbing back onto his feet and brushing the mud and grass from his legs.
“A way in? No way. This building’s been locked up forever.”
“We need to go in there.”
“Dude.” Dwight reached out and shook one of Matthew’s shoulders. “Hey. What’s the matter with you? Your dad ain’t here, Matt.”
Matthew didn’t take his eyes from the bank of milky windows above. “Maybe if we went around back,” he muttered, this time more to himself than to Dwight.
“No way. I’m not going in there.”
Matthew took a step toward the building, ran one finger down the seam between two of the large stones in the façade. The pad of his fingertip was now white with stone dust. “Then maybe I’ll go in without you, Dwight.”
He sensed, more than saw, Dwight shuffle uncomfortably around him. After a few moments of silence, Dwight offered a trembling laugh. He clubbed Matthew on the back and the feel of his hand seemed to break the trance that had overtaken Matthew.
“Good one,” Dwight said. “But let’s quit dicking around.”
Matthew nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. Maybe you were right,” Matthew said, just wanting to go home now, too. That icy needling at the base of his spine had vanished. “Maybe it was a mirage.”
“Yeah.” Dwight sounded satisfied. Relieved, too. Besides, he’d gotten his goddamn deer tail…
A vision then accosted Matthew—the figure springing straight out of the shadows, its long, colorless arms extending and wrapping around Dwight, then pulling him backward into the murky, black, sunless place until they disappeared together. In this vision, the figure was no longer Matthew’s father, but some indistinct and featureless approximation of a human being. Matthew shivered at the thought.
“Okay,” Matthew said. “Let’s get out of
“I don’t know.” He looked around but couldn’t see a way into the building; the doorways had been filled in with concrete years ago. Similarly, the windows were comprised of tiny gridded panes overlaid with iron bars and wire meshwork. As he looked, he saw—or imagined he saw—shapes swimming in the warped and colored glass of the windows. Anything could be beyond those milky, opaque cataracts of glass, he realized. Anything. It was an unsettling thought.
“There’s no one here,” Dwight said again, emerging from beneath the shade of the overhanging trees. A cloud of mosquitoes orbited his head and he swatted at them, scowling.
“Boost me up so I can have a look in those windows,” Matthew said.
“There’s nothing to see, Matt. The glass is covered in muck. Anyway, it’s pitch-black inside.”
“Just boost me.”
Grunting, Dwight sidled over, laced his hands together, and held them out for Matthew to utilize as a sling. Placing his hands on Dwight’s shoulders, Matthew stepped one foot into Dwight’s cupped hands and Dwight, groaning, hoisted him up.
Matthew’s eyes rose just above the windowsill. Indeed, the thick glass was cloudy with age, reinforced with industrial meshwork from the inside. With the heel of one hand he attempted to rub away the grime but it was too caked on. Decades of dirt and filth had become solid as cement.
Then, through the cloudy panes of glass, the breathy twist of an image flickered inside the darkened building. It was like watching a candle flare briefly to life before being snuffed out.
“Hurry,” Dwight groaned from below.
“I think I see something.”
“You’re too heavy.”
A second later, Dwight’s hands gave out. Matthew dropped straight down into the grass, instantly lost his footing, and fell backward on his tailbone. Dwight snorted a laugh and leaned, panting for breath, against the side of the building.
“Do you think we can find a way in?” Matthew said, climbing back onto his feet and brushing the mud and grass from his legs.
“A way in? No way. This building’s been locked up forever.”
“We need to go in there.”
“Dude.” Dwight reached out and shook one of Matthew’s shoulders. “Hey. What’s the matter with you? Your dad ain’t here, Matt.”
Matthew didn’t take his eyes from the bank of milky windows above. “Maybe if we went around back,” he muttered, this time more to himself than to Dwight.
“No way. I’m not going in there.”
Matthew took a step toward the building, ran one finger down the seam between two of the large stones in the façade. The pad of his fingertip was now white with stone dust. “Then maybe I’ll go in without you, Dwight.”
He sensed, more than saw, Dwight shuffle uncomfortably around him. After a few moments of silence, Dwight offered a trembling laugh. He clubbed Matthew on the back and the feel of his hand seemed to break the trance that had overtaken Matthew.
“Good one,” Dwight said. “But let’s quit dicking around.”
Matthew nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. Maybe you were right,” Matthew said, just wanting to go home now, too. That icy needling at the base of his spine had vanished. “Maybe it was a mirage.”
“Yeah.” Dwight sounded satisfied. Relieved, too. Besides, he’d gotten his goddamn deer tail…
A vision then accosted Matthew—the figure springing straight out of the shadows, its long, colorless arms extending and wrapping around Dwight, then pulling him backward into the murky, black, sunless place until they disappeared together. In this vision, the figure was no longer Matthew’s father, but some indistinct and featureless approximation of a human being. Matthew shivered at the thought.
“Okay,” Matthew said. “Let’s get out of
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