Devious Origins

CHAPTER 10

The next two days were remarkably quiet and uneventful, all things considered. There was productive discussion on Tilly's private chat channel, but the plan was still coming together, so it had not demanded a huge time commitment yet. I sent a text message to Dee asking how things were going, and she replied only with, 'deep into it. be in touch.' She finally called on Sunday.

"Hey Barry, can you meet me at the lair? I'd pick you up, but Martin is indisposed."

It took me a moment to remember that Martin was her scooter. "Sure, I can be there within the hour," I answered, "What's up?"

"Just need your help with something. Details when you get here. Bye."

Cryptic as always.

I set aside the software project I was working on and headed out the door. The 67 bus had a stop only two blocks from the factory, and would be able to catch the next one if I hurried.

Lost in my own thoughts while I walked from the bus stop, I didn't notice the truck until I was practically at the entrance of the factory. It was a small, black, Chevy S-10 pick-up truck with a fiberglass cap on the back. The tailgate was open, and a long haired bearded fellow was unloading boxes from it. We both froze as we saw each other, stood staring at each other for a long moment, then the stranger spoke.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Barry," I replied, "and you?"

"Joe," was all he answered. We stood there for another few seconds until he asked, "So why you here?"

"Dee asked me. Said she needed help with something."

"Oh, OK then." He nodded his head, then looked down at the box he was holding as if seeing it for the first time. He set it down next to the building with the other boxes he had already unloaded. He then walked up and offered his hand. "Hi, I'm Joe," he said.

"Um, yeah... Barry... nice to meet you."

"Watch out for the demons, Barry.... the demons with dead eyes will drag under." He said it with the unconcerned casualness that one might warn against a high salt diet. Then he asked, "Do you know Dee?"

"Yes, for a few days now," I answered. I felt like I was trapped in some sort of time loop.

"I've known her for years," Joe shared, "She's good people. Not like the demons. They'll drag you under."

"Um, so I've heard." I looked desperately for a verbal exit. "Um, well, Dee is expecting me, so I'm going to head inside." Joe just nodded and went back to unloading his truck. I made my escape and entered the factory.

The first thing I noticed was that the lights were on. The second thing I noticed was that it was no longer completely empty. An assortment of old sofas and chairs was arranged in one corner. Pieces of scrap lumber and in one case an entire door had been laid over cinder blocks to create ad hoc coffee tables. Two young children, a boy and girl no older than eight, were playing on one of the sofas. A woman with braided hair, probably in her late twenties to early thirties, sat in a chair near them. She appeared to be clipping coupons from an advertising circular. Given the resemblance, I assumed she was the mother.

Another sofa held a young man with long white blond hair. He was dressed mostly in denim with a lot of patches on both his jeans and jacket. He was stretched out on the sofa with his feet on one end and his long hair draped off the other. A young woman wearing a purple head scarf was sitting on the floor at that end of the sofa, braiding his hair. She was wearing ragged jeans and a black t-shirt with the words 'Abby Normal' emblazoned across it. Both looked to be in their late teens to early twenties. Two skateboards and a pair of backpacks leaned against the sofa.