“Don’t be afraid to use the gun if anyone starts giving you trouble,” Mason advised Pierce, showing her the way to the garage. “They shouldn’t bother us though—but better safe than sorry.”
Pierce felt slightly uncomfortable walking among the “prisoners”. Their gazes followed her, but they all kept at a respectable distance away. Past some ramshackle houses, she saw a large patch of barren land with slabs of rocks jutting out from the ground in no apparent sense of organization.
Mason followed her gaze. “That’s the old cemetery. They don’t use it anymore—ran out of room.”
The graveyard covered a good five acres, a decent portion of land in a town less than a mile across.
“They just burn the bodies now,” Mason continued on. “Much more cost efficient.”
Pierce swung her eyes back to the cemetery. The gravestones were crowded close to each other, each one fighting for its space. That’s one heck of a packed graveyard.
“Here we are,” Mason said, pounding on a heavy wooden door.
They stood in front of a one story, cube-like fiberglass building. The garage was one of the better off buildings in Placeton, but even it could use some repairs. Many of the bulletproof windowpanes were scratched and graffiti covered three-quarters of the walls.
A young guard—no more than twenty-five years, Pierce guessed—stuck his head out of the building. Seeing that it was Mason who had knocked on the door, a grin split across his face.
“What’s up?”
“Just picking up the red van,” said Mason.
The guard stepped outside, shouldering a rifle and glaring at any of the residents who dared to get within fifty feet of them.
“How much?” the he asked.
“A hundred points sound good?” Mason replied.
“Deal.”
Points transaction completed, the young guard stuck out his hand for Pierce to shake.
“Pleasure to meet you, Miss…”
“Pierce.” She shook his hand.
“Miss Pierce.” He gave a curt nod, as if committing her name to memory. “My name’s Houston.”
“Nice to meet you, Houston.”
He held onto her hand just a few seconds too long. Mason cleared his throat impatiently.
“Well, are you going let us in or not?”
Houston abruptly dropped Pierce’s hand and slid his ID card through the scanner then ushered them inside the garage. Mason slipped an arm around Pierce, drawing her towards his side. She readjusted the rifle in her hands so that it wasn’t poking into her ribs.
The interior of the garage was little better than the exterior. The cement floor was covered with tire marks and the threadbare rug that rested beneath a battered desk tucked away in a corner had coffee stains all over it. Ten vehicles were parked in the center of the room.
