No Man's Land

by Sara Driscoll

  “You’ve had your shot?”

  “Always up to date on tetanus in my line of work. No vaccine for dogs, but Hawk’s wearing his boots. We’ll be careful, and I’ll check him over afterward. Speaking of Hawk, he’s still not telling me he smells anything.”

  “Any stairs?”

  “No. There are windows on both sides of this room, up on what is likely the third floor, but no way to get there that we’ve found yet. Huge holes in the floor looking down into the basement, though, so we’ll watch our footing.” They stuck to the solid concrete floor in the middle of the room, following a cleared area flanked by rows of rusted barrels on one side and massive engines on the other. “There’s some sort of giant engine with two ten-foot flywheels in here. Two of them, actually.”

  “Those are very cool antiques. Early twentieth-century steam engines used to power the condensers and refrigerators. Get to the far end of the room. It looks like there should be a doorway into the next section, the boiler room. The boilers produced the steam needed to run the engines.”

  “You have done your research.”

  “At your service, ma’am. That’s what I do.”

  Meg and Hawk left the engine room and entered a darker space beyond. The floor here was originally comprised of steel mesh, but parts of the mesh had crumbled or were missing altogether. Large sheets of plywood had been lain down to cover the worst areas. The windows were covered by clear plastic sheeting, once attached to the walls by wide orange tape, but now they drifted lazily on the incoming breeze. Along the right side of the corridor, yellow caution tape warned trespassers against the most treacherous areas. “We’re in the boiler room. There are huge floor-to-ceiling steel structures in here, and lots of internal piping. A whole section is taped off with caution tape.”

  Beside her, Hawk suddenly shot to attention, his nose in the air and his tail waving like a triumphant flag. “Bingo. Hawk has her. Somewhere in here, I bet there’s a flight of stairs.”

  Hawk trotted down the corridor and angled under the caution tape at the first gap between the massive structures. Meg lifted the tape and slipped underneath. “We’re past the caution tape now. And here’s a narrow flight of stairs.” She traced the upward path of the metal steps. “Looks like it goes up at least a few stories, not sure about all the way.”

  “Keep talking to me. This is when things could get dicey. If you run into trouble, I need to know.”

  “Wouldn’t do it without you. Hawk is heading right for the stairs.” Meg tightened the leash slightly, drawing him a little closer. “Stay with me, Hawk, I don’t want you getting too far ahead and running into trouble.”

  A single width of stair treads led down into the depth of the basement in front of them, but Hawk didn’t even give it a glance, instead circling the staircase to the far side. Meg followed him up steps lined at the edges with scraps of wood and brick and shards of glass. She cast a quick glance upward, not daring a long look while jogging behind her dog, but even that brief view was enough to show that this skylight had not fared well and that blue sky and drifting clouds were directly overhead.

  Hawk hit the first level and followed the catwalk around the corner, running between the railing on one side and dented, rusted ductwork on the other. Approaching the end of the catwalk, he slowed. Decades ago, curving around the corner to the next flight of steps would have been elementary. Now, a large section of the meshwork had collapsed, leaving an airy drop to the walkway one story below between the I-beams that supported the staircase.

  “Hawk, stop,” Meg commanded, giving her time to catch up with him. She came to the edge of the gap, calculating the distance. For herself, she could step out a foot, balance on the two-inch-wide I-beam, turn one hundred eighty degrees, and step another foot onto the lowest tread of the next flight of stairs.

  But you can’t explain that to a dog.

  No help for it, they were going to have to do it in two jumps. The first, over the gap to the far side of the walkway, and then the second, back and onto the section of the stairway.

  “Meg, talk to me, what’s going on?”

  McCord’s voice reminded Meg she had a virtual search partner she’d been ignoring. “Sorry. We just hit a gap on the catwalk right where we need to do a one-eighty onto the next flight of stairs. I can’t talk Hawk through it, so we’re going to have to jump over it, and then jump back.”

  “How wide is the gap?”

  “Four feet?”

  “That’s pretty far. Be careful.”

  “Luckily this platform seems solid. Let’s hope the guardrails on the far side are as well, because that’s what’s going to catch me. Hawk, come.” She backed up several paces, Hawk heeling at her side. “Now stay.” She held up a hand, palm out and fingers spread to him as reinforcement, and then unclipped his leash from his vest and stuffed it in her jacket pocket. “Here goes.” She took a run at it and then leaped over the gap, landing with a clang on the far side as she held out her hands to catch herself on the rough guardrail. She hit the guardrail hard, but the sturdy metal held. “Made it,” she said to McCord. “Hawk, your turn. Come here, boy. Jump!”

  Hawk stayed motionless for a moment, his eyes calmly fixed on Meg; then he sprang forward, his powerful hind legs pushing off as he arced through the air toward her. His booted feet hit the metal, and he slid a few inches before Meg caught him. “Good boy!” She rubbed a hand down his back. “Now we do it again, but we not only have to make the jump, we have to land up a step. This is going to be easier for me than it will be for you, buddy. Stay here, Hawk.” She pressed against the guardrail. “No real room to take a run at it, but here goes attempt number two.” Meg gave herself an extra boost by launching off the guardrail.

  She landed heavily on the step, reaching out with both hands to grasp the stair rail and catch her balance. Puffing slightly, she turned to her dog. “Hawk, come.” She patted her palms twice on her thighs. “Jump.”

  Hawk pulled back as far as he could, took a few steps, and then leaped across the divide. Three feet landed on the first and second steps, but his fourth foot landed where the metal flooring should have been, and he scrambled to catch his balance. Meg was ready and leaned out, one hand clutching the stair rail and the other grabbing for the handle strap running across the back of his vest. Catching it, she leaned back on the steps, purposefully overbalancing to drag him up the stairs with her. His boots scrabbled for a hold, and then he was steady on the steps beside her. “Hoo boy, that was a close one. Hawk almost missed that last jump. But we made it and we’re moving on.”

  “Well done.”

  Meg pushed to her feet. “Hawk, heel. No leash this time, so we’re not tied together if either of us runs into trouble. Heel.” She started up the stairs again.

  Another flight of steps, and another landing to cross to get to the next section. This section held massive tanks, similar to the ammonia tanks below. Each level became brighter as they worked their way up toward the roof. Meg confirmed they were still on the right track by Hawk’s posture; everything about his stance told her he was still tracking Mrs. Devar.

  The last flight of stairs was heavily covered with shards of vaguely green skylight glass and carried them over a chain of deep coal hoppers, now empty but once full of tons of coal to stoke the massive boilers. They continued up, the bulk of a red brick smokestack, easily thirty feet in diameter, rising up beside them to pierce the roof beside the skylight. Then they were through an empty doorway and out on the roof, startling a small flock of roosting pigeons into the air in a burst of sound and feathers. Forest and industrial buildings spread out around them, with railroad tracks running behind the building. In the distance, cars hurtled along I-895 running north toward Baltimore or south to DC.

  The chilly autumn breeze was stronger here, but Hawk needed only a second to refocus the search. He circled the skylight and headed past the towering smokestack and toward the center of the building.

  “We’re on the roof,” Meg reported, �
�and Hawk still has the scent. She’s here somewhere.”

  “I’m looking at a Google Maps aerial view,” McCord said. “Where are you?”

  “We came out on the roof on the south side, by the southernmost skylight and smokestack. Hawk’s taking us north, back across the roof again.”

  “From this photo, it looks as if there’s a skylight that runs the length of the middle of the building. Do you need to get around that?”

  “Not sure yet.”

  “If you do, one end is blocked by the second smokestack, but there’s a section of open roof at the east end.”

  “I’m not sure yet where we’re going, but that’s good to know.”

  They cautiously hurried across a roof covered with a fine, pebble-like gravel under shattered bricks from the crumbling stacks, glass from the skylight, and roofing shingles. Swampy puddles of water gathered in low-lying areas tinted green with a mossy lining. Hawk crossed the roof in a nearly straight line.

  Strong scent. We must be practically on top of her.

  When he reached the bisecting skylight, Hawk abruptly sat down and barked.

  “He’s alerting. She’s on the other side of the skylight.”

  “Can you see her?” McCord asked.

  “No, but if Hawk says she’s . . . No wait, maybe I do see her. There’s a raised section on the far side, under some sort of stone structure and I can see a bit of color over there. Hang on, let me circle around the skylight to her. Hawk, come.” Meg glanced at the tall smokestack, covered in graffiti at the bottom and rising high overhead but clearly blocking her way to the far side. She turned away from it to run down the length of the roof to the end of the skylight. As she got closer, she could see a narrow band of roof between the end of the skylight and the wall. The roof was sunken and uneven, with water gathered in the depression. “I’m not sure about this. The roof is in rough shape.”

  “It hasn’t been maintained since 1966 at the latest. That’s a lot of time for a roof to collapse. From this aerial shot, parts of it around the plant already have.”

  “And me with no rope, harness, or buddy.”

  “Do not go out there unless you’re sure it’s safe.”

  “I have to get across, McCord. I don’t even know if she’s alive. Hold on, I’m going to try it. Hawk, sit. Stay. I’m not risking you on this roof.”

  Meg stepped carefully onto that section of the roof, the soggy materials shifting under her boot, collapsing and compressing. One step. Two. Three—

  The roof gave way beneath her foot, and she leaped back as the area she’d been about to cross disintegrated, falling with a harsh crash, stories below.

  “What was that?” McCord called.

  “No need to yell, I’m right here.” The displeasure in Meg’s voice was less for McCord than the situation. “I can’t get through this way. Parts of the roof have given way; the rest looks precarious. Which leaves me with two choices. The brick wall at the outer edge of the building—”

  “I don’t like that,” McCord interjected. “That must be a five-story drop if you slip, and that brickwork is not secure.”

  “—or walking across the skylight.” Meg turned and motioned for Hawk to follow her back to the skylight.

  “Walking across the glass?” McCord’s tone told her he thought she’d lost her mind.

  “No, the glass is long gone. There are double I-beams about every twenty feet down the length of the skylight. I could walk across one of those.”

  “You, the woman who is terrified of heights. Again, isn’t this about five stories up?”

  Meg’s mouth went desert dry. “Something like that.”

  “And if you fell, you’d land on . . . ?”

  Meg sidled closer to the edge of the abyss and forced herself to look down. Way down. “Those cool antique steam engines.”

  “You can’t do it.”

  “How can I not do it? McCord, if I call the fire department to stage a rescue, it will take too long. I need to get to her now and find out if she’s even alive. Walking over steel will be more secure than over crumbling brick. If she’s alive, I’ll get Craig to arrange for a flight crew to airlift her off the roof. But I have to get there first. If the perp did it, carrying the victim, I can do it.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  The laugh that escaped Meg was entirely humorless. “Trust me, I don’t either.” She shrugged out of her pack and dropped it on the roof next to Hawk. “If something happens to me, you need to call the authorities. Tell them what happened. Tell them there’s a victim who needs assistance. They’ll also need to rescue Hawk and take him to Cara.”

  “Meg.” The single word was heavy with warning. “That’s crazy talk. If Webb were there—”

  “He’d be climbing out on the I-beam with me, and you know it. And if you were here, you’d be right behind him.” She crouched down next to Hawk, running her hands over him, trying to absorb his energy and confidence. “Hawk, buddy, you have to stay here. I have to cross to the other side of the roof, but I’ll be back. Stay.” She dropped a kiss on the top of his head and forced herself to stand. Forced herself to walk to the edge of the skylight.

  The rusted I-beams sat a foot below the roof, stretching about twenty-five feet across the chasm. Might as well be twenty-five miles. Meg’s heart was beating so hard, she thought she was going to have a panic attack. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths, to try to settle some of the terror burning through her veins like fire.

  “McCord, I’m going to climb down to the I-beam and then make my way across it.”

  “Can you do it sliding across on your ass? Better that than walking it.”

  “That’s not going to work. It’ll take too long, and the I-beam is covered with glass that would cut through my pants and then me. That would increase my chances of falling off. I have to walk it.”

  “Meg, I—”

  “No. I’m doing it. And I need you to stay dead quiet while I do. If you break my concentration . . . it won’t end well. Can I count on you to stay quiet, or do I need to end this phone call?”

  “Hell, no. I’m here. I’ll shut up, but I am not going anywhere.”

  A small smile tugged at her lips at his stubborn tone. “Thanks.” She sat down on the edge of the roof, being careful not to cut herself on any of the thick shards of glass surrounding the edge of the skylight, and swung her legs out so her booted feet rested on the I-beams. She lifted one foot and banged it into the steel as hard as she could, but it held firm, no wobbling and only limited vibration.

  “Okay, McCord. Starting now.”

  “Good luck. Shutting up, but I’m with you every step of the way.”

  She took one more breath and slowly let it out through pursed lips. Then she pushed off the edge of the roof to stand at the edge of the beam.

  Fixing her eyes three feet in front of her so she wasn’t staring down into the deadly drop, she extended her arms for balance and stepped out into thin air.

  CHAPTER 15

  Grills: Metal bars found in the roof or sides of a drain. Grills allow rainwater to flow into sewers during a storm.

  Monday, November 5, 11:18 AM

  Bowie Meat Packing Plant

  Lansdowne, Maryland

  As Meg set her boot down on the I-beam, she felt the sole slip fractionally, and froze. The metal was intact, but storms and age had weathered the surface, crumbling the outer layer and giving it a gritty slickness that could spell doom. She started to hyperventilate as she wobbled slightly in the breeze.

  Unbidden, but entirely welcome, a voice called to her from her memory—a voice she hadn’t heard since middle school. Jennings! We’ve gone over this before. Stay centered on the beam. Steady breath. Tighten that stomach. It’s no different than walking a line on the floor. The fear is only in your head. Now do it!

  She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself briefly. Then she opened them, tightened her core, straightened her spine, and took another step.

  Gl
ass crunched underfoot, and her gaze flicked down to the shards littering the beam. With the toe of her boot, she pushed a couple of bigger pieces off, and seconds later they crashed to the ground. The distance implied by the time it took to hit bottom made cold sweat dampen her skin.

  Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to remind yourself how far down it is.

  Another step, then another, as the far side of the skylight frame inched ever closer.

  A gust of wind made her teeter slightly, but she stiffened, stretching her arms out to reclaim her balance.

  You’re doing this. Keep going.

  Four steps.

  Five.

  Six.

  She was just over halfway there when her boot landed on several stacked pieces of glass, and half of the pile crumbled beneath her weight. Even that miniscule shift was enough to offset her balance, and she started to lean to one side. Panic washed over her, and she instinctively jerked the other way to compensate, making her stagger.

  She gave a muffled cry as she teetered dangerously, fifty feet in the air above solid concrete and steel. In some far-off part of her brain, Meg registered McCord’s harsh, indrawn breath, but she pushed it aside.

  Jennings, catch your balance before you fall! Lower your center of gravity and reset the routine.