Three friends decide to pick up a hobby called urban exploration. After checking out a few interesting sites, they end up choosing a new location in the outskirts of a tiny Alabama town. From the outside, it seems to be an abandoned steel mill. What...
"I think we should find a new spot, that last one in Demopolis was pretty lame." I set down a picture we took last April. In it, my friend Nolan sticks his head out from a large pipe wearing googly eyes. That trip was hilarious. "I've got the itch again." I say, sitting back in my chair, iPhone in hand, chatting with Nolan. "Same. I've actually had a trip in mind..." He says. "Please tell me it's not that damn-" I start, "Steel mill? Yep. We're doing it. Don't wuss out like last time." Nolan says. "Wuss out?! Did you see the size of the spiders in that place!" I say, trying to justify myself. "They were centipedes, gremlin." He replies flatly. "Ok, whatever smart ass. Still nasty." I say, and we both laugh. "I'll do it." I say. "I knew you would." Nolan says in a cocky tone. "Oh hush." I say. I sip my water. "I think I'll invite Fenix, too, he's been wanting to get into it." "Alright Sig. Let's make a supply run." Nolan says. We hang up and I hop into my Tacoma. We meet up at the local sports store to stock up on supplies. Nolan buys a survival hatchet and a load of MRE's, specifically "Tomato Basil Soup" and "biscuits and jam". I grab some 9mm ammo for the USP Match I always take with me on these adventures, and I buy Nolan some .455 for his Webley. We checkout and head to Nolan's RV, an old but reliable thing he picked up for only $400.
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Alright, let's gear up." He says. "Fenix'll be here soon too." I say. We put on all of our equipment. My kit includes a dense leather trenchcoat, knee height rubber boots, a rugged pair of cargo pants, and a half face mask to ward away asbestos. In my backpack is a wind up flashlight and a survival knife. On my hip is the aforementioned USP-Match with two extra magazines. Nolan wore a tan canvas work jacket over a printed British flag T-shirt and carried about five different flashlights. He preferred to carry his Webley inside his jacket pocket. Fenix knocked on the RV door and I fumbled with the handle for a while until Nolan came over and opened the door. "Hey guys. Looks like I'm just in time." He says. Fenix is already in full gear. He carries a crowbar and a Colt M1911. His light is a vintage police maglite, for which he carries about a weeks worth of D-Batteries in a satchel. Fenix wears full military fatigues and matching tan combat boots. "Right-O, boys. Let's get to it." Nolan says. He walks around to the table in the rear of the RV, flicking on an I-pod that begins playing Ozzy Osbourne. Hopping into the drivers seat, he fires up the RV and we set off toward the location. "So Sig, where are we going?" Fenix asks, sitting across from me at the small table. "Some old steel mill. Supposedly a pretty creepy spot, provided you can get in." I say. "Sounds like we're in for a good time." Nolan says.
