Primal Gambit

Chapter 44: Darwin Finds the Warehouse

The fan-powered boat's motor chugged and coughed as it propelled the two men forward. To Darwin's right was refuse: the end of The Outskirts and the beginning of The Yard – the foreign and hazardous place. To his left: a series of derelict warehouses interspersed with decaying parking lots and the forgotten shells of old vehicles. The transition from The Dark City to The Yard was a drawn one, with junk slowly amassing the farther from the center of the city one ventured. On either side of the boat's hull, the river-water ran a black sludge. Viscous bubbles rose to the surface, piquing Darwin's interest to what could survive in such uninviting conditions. No one knew how the river came to be. Escalating rumors said that the old streets of Pittsburgh still ran beneath it.

The slow tour of the city embedded in Darwin a feeling of great darkness: of what it once was and what it came to be with the changing times. It was out here on the fringes of civilization that the fateful meeting would take place – all at the callous hands of a calculated and seemingly trustworthy individual. He scouted the warehouses to the left, searching for the most isolated position.

A clear sky lent itself to the bright sun. The afternoon was devoid of the unrelenting ash clouds that consistently berated the city. Behind Darwin was a man he had hired to bring him along the riverbank. They had no relation to one another; the mastermind simply hired the pilot to bring him down the river in hopes that he would be able to find a spot secluded enough to serve as the meeting place for all the parties he had contacted. It was his hope that when they converged, both fear and intrigue would keep them there long enough for his dark plan to play out.

It was a mistake for people to trust him. He understood why they did trust him; he took advantage of the opportunity to gather their dependence on him, to believe that he truly was involved only to help them attain their separate, somewhat detached goals. Darwin had countless attributes that lent to others the belief that had he delivered promises that would progress their hopes, then they would support him until the very end.

They were wrong.

The man standing before the console just behind him was difficult to hear with the sounds of the motor guzzling gas and the masks they wore impairing both hearing and speech. The wind attacked them relentlessly – harsh gusts forcing the hull of the boat toward either bank, increasing the possibility for them to run aground and leaving naught but asphalt for the propeller to grind into.

"How 'bout that one? Leased it out from some guys at the wharf. I'd let you take it for a night if that's all you're after. Wouldn't cost too much." The man behind the center console yelled for Darwin to hear. The puppeteer could sense the saliva dripping from the driver's mouth – thirsty at the chance of renting out his warehouse for a night and the money that would come along with it. His bulbous gut rubbed against the Plexiglas, his oil-stained shirt rippling in the wind against an overworked and perspiring sternum.

"Do you have anything a little more secluded? Chances are Marcotte is going to be making an appearance; I would hate for there to be any bad reports on a property you're leasing." The mastermind spoke with sinister intent.

"Well, let's see." The man behind him chimed as he pushed forward, the massive fan consuming the gusts and carrying them forward along the banks.

Darwin could not get a sense of the dread that bled into the man once he heard the name of the company that was synonymous with human trafficking, but he knew it was there. No one wanted to have Marcotte Reapers on their land: whether leased or owned. He was hoping it would instill nervousness in the man behind the wheel: that by hearing the name his mission would manifest into finding a place just as isolated as Darwin had initially hoped.

The slow course down the river reminded the activist leader of how little time there was left. It had become clear through his work and now through the visceral act of witnessing the destruction with his own eyes, that mankind had long overstayed their welcome on the world. Humanity now served the planet as a self-conscious parasite, knowingly decimating the land they inhabited to protect their own and to consume more. Darwin began to wonder how easy it was for the dwellers of the Inner City to turn a blind eye to the magnitude of refuse beyond their walls. If it was not piling in their own homes, he knew they did not care.

Like locusts.

When the last war finally ended, the resources left to devour would be scarce. Had the use of atomic weapons been postponed, it would only delay the inevitable. Either through consumption or pure decimation, the Earth would not see the presence of mankind for much longer. Darwin tried desperately to bring his mind to the task at hand, finding a suitable place for a chance meeting of all the parties he had strings on up to this point. As the fan-boat ate the air and propelled forward, taking them to the last remaining area, a feeling of calmness washed over the puppeteer.

There was no one around, even the dreadful sounds of The Outskirts had ceased. The fracking drills were too far removed to be heard – the noxious stench they pulled from the ground finally unable to breach the masks. One building decayed at the end of the banks, surrounded by refuse and buried lots. It was tall, windows shattered long ago by unknown stones thrown by unknown passersby. A pale, yellow complexion slowly washing back to dull gray caused by ultraviolet erosion and years of ash made the building seem old, withered, and weary. It's very existence was a depressing one. If Darwin opened the scaffold-doors he was sure he'd have been met by rusted equipment left to rot, scattered bones, and a sour taste in his mouth.

Most of all: it was alone, just the same as he.

"You own that one at the end?" He pointed forward, his head tilted behind. The pilot of the boat could see the sparkle in the man's eyes, even beneath the somewhat fogged glass.

"It's a lease, but yes – it's mine." Pressing forward on the throttle, the boat lurched closer to the nearest dock.

The only other time Darwin could remember feeling the same level of elation was when he received the chess set from his grandfather during his adolescent years.

"It's perfect." He said.