I screeched to a stop in front of an empty lot. Where the Bandit headquarters – aka Donovan’s house – had been now sat a single tree that had been in their backyard and a bald patch of land where the house had once stood. Even the detached garage had vanished, along with all the tools and motorcycle parts therein. I could’ve sworn that’s where I’d left it. Donovan was going to be pissed when he got back. If he ever came back.
Thankfully, the asylum was still there, but my key to the front door, which I’d never even had the chance to use, would do me no good. In place of the old chain-link fence that had surrounded the asylum was a new chain-link fence, shining and sparkling in the sun, and it bordered the entire block, not just the asylum itself. Normally this would not be a big deal. I could just scale the fence and sneak in through a window out back that led to the basement of the abandoned hospital if they’d changed the locks. But this new fence, with its crisply installed posts and tight weaving, had been topped off with razor wire. Razor wire! Who did that?
I sat in Misery and contemplated my odds of getting over the razor wire unscathed. I’d seen it done in film. All I needed was a prison uniform, a pair of gloves, and a few sheets tied together.
I coasted forward until I could see the new billboardlike sign in front of the asylum. It simply read private property in huge black and blue letters. And below that, this property is owned by c&r industries. all trespassers will be prosecuted.
Sounded ominous. How was I going to get to Rocket now? I’d just have to come back tonight and try to find a way in.
Fortunately, it would be dark soon. I could go grab a bite and make a plan. As I headed that way, the super-duper downside of some big business buying this land hit me. Rocket. If they tore down the asylum, where would he go? Where would his sister go? I would invite him to live with me, but he had a habit of carving names into walls. My walls were drywall. They wouldn’t last long, and the landlord would probably have a cow. Or at least a small game hen.
I dragged out my phone and called Ubie. Not having Cookie at my constant beck and call was turning out to be a pain in the ass. No more classes for her.
“Did that guy try to kill you again?”
“No.”
“Then it’s still Saturday and I haven’t finished my game yet.”
“I need you to check something for me. Can you find out who bought a building downtown?”
“Don’t you have an assistant for these things?”
“I do, but I sent her off to a concealed weapons class.”
“Why?” he asked, becoming alarmed. “Is someone harassing her?”
“Besides me?”
“When is she getting back?”
“Tonight, but she has class all day tomorrow, too.”
“Well, we’ll all be safer for it.”
“Can you find out who owns C and R Industries? They bought the old abandoned mental asylum downtown.”
“That old thing? What are they going to do with it?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping their overcompensating sign would say, but it just says ‘private property’ and shouts lots of threats in capital letters, all of which I plan to completely ignore later. I need to find out if they are going to tear it down, build apartments, create a sand garden, what.”
After a long sigh, he said, “Okay, I’ll put someone on it. But you know, the Albuquerque Police Department wasn’t really created to find things out for you.”
“Really? That’s weird.”
Before he could get too snippy, I hung up and took one last look at the asylum. Then a plan formed. I didn’t need a prison uniform – sadly, because I was rather looking forward to the visit. I was on the outside. I had access to things those guys in the movie didn’t. Of course, I’d have to come back at night, but come nightfall, I would be reunited with Rocket. Hopefully I’d come out of there alive. With the merry band of ghosts inside, that outcome was always questionable. Especially since Officer Taft’s little sister, Strawberry Shortcake, had joined the gang. Either way, I made a mental note to put my hair up in a hat before going in.
I got another text from Cookie on my way home.
Almost home. Learned a lot.
Well, good. If I had to do without her for two whole days for nothing, Noni, the instructor, was getting an earful.
I stepped to my door and for the first time in several days there was no sticky note on it. I looked over at Reyes’s door. Was that it? Was he already tired of me?
It would figure.
Being extra careful, I opened my door slowly, not really knowing what to expect. Would the departed women still be in there? I found out quickly the answer to that would be a resounding yes. And yes. Where I’d left probably nine or ten women, my apartment was now populated with at least twenty dirty blond women in varying states of trauma. I stopped just inside my threshold and looked on as women crawled across my carpet, scurried up my walls, and clung to my ceiling like a spider. One was huddled in a corner where two walls met the ceiling. It was the same woman from this morning. She hadn’t moved.
While the average person would walk through this carnage none the wiser – besides being a little chilly perhaps – I could not walk through the departed. They were as solid to me as anyone else on the planet. So I ended up having to maneuver around my houseguests, trying not to step on fingers or toes. It made for an interesting walk. If anyone were to see me, they’d think I’d had one too many margaritas.