“Afternoon, Razorback,” he nodded.
“Sergeant.”
“How was the ride out?”
“Scenic as usual.”
As they walked to the security doors, Sanderson thought of his conversation with Victor Young on the day he learned Hank would be working at Windigo. Running into Hank would be unlikely. It was the middle of the day, Hank would be working, and he had no reason to visit any of the boiler rooms. Still, if by some rare chance he did run into Hank, he had no idea what to expect. The whole notion left Sanderson feeling anxious and that was one emotion operators trained very hard at overcoming. Still, what was the worst thing that could happen? Hank wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.
Grant led him into the building and they completed the visitor routine without conversation, having done it many times in the past. Sanderson was subjected to a full body scan, surrendered his sidearm, and pinned a large visitor tag to the breast of his suit.
His first stop was to pay a visit to the commanding officer who ran the plant, the least pleasant aspect of the entire day. Like most people who met him, Sanderson found Lieutenant Hendricks to be an arrogant jackass. He understood Hendricks resented the fact the State needed to send somebody in on a monthly basis to check up on him, but he didn’t have to be such a prick.
They arrived at the lieutenant’s office and Grant knocked on the door frame. Hendricks looked up from his desk and grinned. “Well, Razorback. Is it time for another one of your visits already?”
“I’m afraid so, Brother.” Sanderson sat down without waiting for an invitation.
“Sure, have a seat.” Hendricks handed him a tablet across the desk. “Here’s the log.”
Sanderson flipped through the pages. “Incoming calls on here this time?”
“Incoming and outgoing along with all email transactions. I already checked them before your arrival.” Hendricks sat back and crossed his arms. “Everything looked shipshape to me, but I don’t have your extensive training and experience.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Sanderson scrolled though the last few pages of the log. “Everything else been quiet around here, Lieutenant?”
“Same as last time, Brother. No escape attempts, no perimeter breaches, and no info leaks.” He cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. “Sorry to bring you out here for nothing.”
“Careful, Lieutenant.” Sanderson placed the tablet face down on the desk and looked Hendricks in the eye. “Implying my trip is a waste of time might be interpreted by some people as doubting the logic behind the State’s actions. If my being here was a waste of time, I wouldn’t be sitting here wasting my time by having this conversation. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Absolutely.” Hendricks held his gaze. “Just making small talk.”
“I’m not a big fan of small talk. I like to stick to the facts and the matter at hand. Something I learned as part of my extensive training.”
“Noted.” The phone on the lieutenant’s desk rang. “Are we done here?”
Sanderson nodded at the phone and studied his finger nails. Tried his best not to crack a smile.
Hendricks picked up the receiver. “Yeah?”
Sanderson was about to get up, but the frantic voice coming over line made him curious.
“What?” Hendricks glanced at him before looking to the floor. “Don’t do anything until I get there. I’m on my way.” He slammed the phone down. “Looks like your timing is impeccable, Razorback. It just so happens one of my men just stopped an escape attempt. I assume you’ll want to join me?” He got up from the desk and stormed out of the room without looking back.
Chapter 15
Hank had no plan. He left the boiler room in the middle of his shift on pure impulse, a pull so strong that he just couldn’t resist any longer. It was almost as if some mysterious force was telling him it was now or never. When Seamus stepped out to use the bathroom, Hank bolted.
Now that he hurried down the hall, nagging regret was starting to come on just as strong. He knew what he was doing was pointless, and the odds weren’t just against him, they were nonexistent. Still, when he left the commons and entered the administration wing, he caught a small break as one of the soldiers entered the hall from an unmarked door directly in front of Hank and never so much as glanced behind him. Hank quietly placed his hand on the door to prevent it from closing all the way. The soldier turned the corner and left him alone in the corridor.
Hank slipped through the door and found himself in a nondescript hallway. He slowly walked forward, trying hard to minimize the sound of his footsteps as the hard soles of his work boots hit the equally hard concrete floor. If he were caught now, the best he could hope for was to play the confused lost old man routine. Hopefully the worst that would happen is they just sent him back to work.
The corridor ended in a dead end with just a single unmarked door as the only exit. The only other option was to go back the way he came. Hank knew once he was through that door it was the point of no return. All Hendricks needed was a legitimate excuse to take him out for good and sneaking around in a restricted area was one hell of a good excuse.
He put his ear to the door and could make out what sounded like heavy machinery. He tried the door latch and it turned freely. Opened it a crack and waited. Cold air rushed into the corridor. It had to be at least a twenty or thirty degree difference. Hank thought of Seamus’s claim they might be at the South Pole and smiled in spite of his rising anxiety. Could he have found an exterior door that easily?
Hank slowly pushed the door open and peeked through the gap. All he could see in front of him was a wall of stacked boxes. He slipped into the room and peered around the corner. A couple of men, retirees judging by their age, walked past wearing dark blue jumpsuits. Each man wore a stained white apron, hairnet, and thick rubber gloves.
Hank glanced behind him, making sure nobody entered the room. Several large liquid holding tanks sat on the floor directly in front of him. He darted to the space in between the tanks and the wall and slipped into the shadows. He slid down the wall along the sides of the tanks until he finally got a view of the room.
A few retirees stood along a production line, handling packages of meat passing through a shrink-wrapping machine. The meat entered the room on a conveyor through an opening in the wall. The men sorted the packages by their different cuts and placed them in boxes, stacked on pallets. Hank watched as a worker moved one of the full pallets with a jack and wheeled it into what looked like a massive freezer.
There was a door on the far side of the room but he’d have to walk right by all the workers to get there. He didn’t see any soldiers at the moment, but there was no telling what the reaction of the other retirees would be if they saw a strange guy in a different colored uniform stroll by.
He continued down the wall to the corner of the room where unused equipment was stored. With the lights low in that area of the room and the racket coming from the production line, Hank felt his confidence rise. He kept low and weaved his way through conveyor components and packaging machines until he noticed two doors in the corner of the room. One was partially blocked by an old computer cart, another by a dusty metal shelving unit.
Hank looked over his shoulder at the workers behind him. They seemed absorbed in their monotonous work and hadn’t so much as glanced in his direction. He slowly pulled the shelf far enough away from the first door for him to open it a little. It was dark on the other side. Hank’s eyes finally adjusted after a moment and he could make out a filthy mop bucket and sink. An old broom closet. Not a way out, but it might be a good place to hide until the workers knocked off for the day and gave him a chance to explore.
Ignoring the pain in his knees from crouching for so long, Hank turned his attention to the other door. He carefully pulled the cart toward him and opened the two-way swinging door a crack. He peered through the gap into another production line. The room was twice as large as the one he was in.
Hank struggled to comprehend the scene before him and wrap his mind around exactly what he was seeing. He slowly stood up, momentarily forgetting the need for stealth, and grabbed a hold of the door frame to steady himself.
The room buzzed with activity as dozens of retiree workers completed the tasks at their stations in the busy slaughterhouse. The room appeared to be divided into two halves. Decapitated men and woman of all shapes and sizes hung from their ankles. Children on the other side of the room. Based on their size, some of them looked barely old enough to walk. The body cavities were empty, the organs and entrails probably removed in another department. Same place their heads were cut off.
Hank watched in horror as a pair of workers just feet away from him lifted a carcass from a hook and placed it on the conveyor belt for processing. He watched as the workers casually guided each shoulder through a band saw and tossed the arms into a bin behind them. Watched as the team efficiently broke down the body with various saws and blades. Ribs. Buttocks. Thighs. Calves.
Hank flinched as a walker passed right in front of him, holding an upside down infant by the ankles. He paused and yelled something into the ear of one his co-workers on the line. Both men laughed, sharing the quick joke before the man carrying the dead baby moved on.
Hank stumbled back and bent over, not caring if the machinery in the room covered the sound of his retching or not. He felt a hand grab him roughly by the back of his shirt and he fell to the floor.
Seamus held his finger to his lips and pointed at the janitor closet. He glanced at the workers and moved the shelf over far enough for them to squeeze though. He grabbed Hank by the arm and shoved him inside before joining him and closing the door.
“How did you find me?” Hank whispered in the darkness.
“Hold on,” Seamus muttered. After a second or two the bare bulb on the wall came to life. He removed his hand from the light switch and rubbed it on his pants. “This is the only other department directly connected to the power plant. When I saw you wasn’t in your room, I figured you’d be sneaking around in here. All that talk about escaping.”
Hank pointed in the direction of the slaughterhouse. “You mean, you knew about this place the whole time?”
“Despite all that shit I said this morning, there was a day once when I felt the same as you. Tried to make a break for it years ago.”
“Did you get caught?”
“Hell, no. You get caught, you get dead. Got cold feet after a close call and turned back. Never tried again.” Seamus put his hand on Hank’s shoulder and boosted himself up on the rim of the wash basin.
“What are you doing?”
Seamus slid one of the ceiling tiles out of the way and looked down. “I know I can’t talk you out of it so I’m gonna help your ass escape.” He pulled himself up through the gap in the ceiling and held out his hand to Hank.
With Seamus’s help, Hank managed to pull himself up past the drop ceiling and crouch next to Seamus in a four foot crawlspace. Seamus replaced the ceiling tile and pointed behind Hank. “See that ventilation shaft?”
Hank looked past the mess of cables, wires, and pipes, to the large metal shaft snaking over the drop ceiling twenty feet away. He nodded.
“We gotta get over there, but you have to be real careful to walk on the support beams,” Seamus whispered. “The supervisor’s office is right below us. One wrong step on a ceiling tile and you’ll end up on his desk.” He led the way and Hank followed. They slowly and quietly moved through the dark and hot space on the beams before finally reaching the ventilation shaft. Seamus yanked on a grating and pulled it free. He motioned for Hank to crawl into the darkness.
“You’re kidding me. We’re going in here? What is this, a bad movie?”
“Just get your ass in there. It’s the only way out.”
They both crawled into the shaft and Seamus replaced the grating. “Okay, get moving. At the end we’re going to go left.”
They slowly crawled through the filthy vent on their hands and knees. It was just large enough for them to fit, but their backs rubbed against the top of the vent and the hard metal surface was murder on Hank’s knees. Despite the cool air hitting him in the face, he felt short of breath and started to panic in the confined space. Hank froze.
Seamus patted the back of Hank’s leg. “Just keep moving man, you’re gonna be okay. We can’t turn back, so just put it out your mind.”
Hank pushed ahead navigating the maze from Seamus’s directions until they reached a dimly lit dead end up ahead.
“Give it a good shove and it should fall right off,” Seamus said in a normal voice. “Don’t worry about the noise. Nobody can hear us down here.”
They dropped down into a furnace room lit by emergency lighting. The air was dank and an inch of stagnant water stood on the floor. “We can rest here for a minute,” Seamus said. “We’re in an old area of the plant that ain’t been used in years.”
Hank dusted off his hands and rubbed his knees. “Is that what I thought it was back there? I still can’t believe it.”
“Yeah, that’s the meat processing plant. You were never supposed to find out about it. Just like those folks back there have no idea about our operation in the boiler rooms. It’s the only world they know.”
“But you knew about it,” Hank said.
“Cuz I worked there. Started out in the food plant right after I retired. After a few years, they was hard up for workers in the boiler room so I was transferred. They made it real clear I needed to keep my old job to myself.”
“The bodies. I actually saw a baby in there.” Hank shook his head. “Where do they come from?”
“Most of the kids died from natural causes. Run of the mill homeless or accident victims. Some are orphans or messed up in the head. The State ain’t gonna take care of ‘em.” Seamus unlatched a ladder that led to access through the ceiling and it slid down into position. “Same with the adults. Convicts, disabled, you name it. All the hospitals are run by the State, right? When folks die they get put on ice and trucked up here. Long as they didn’t have some shit that spoiled the meat.”