Black Box: Book Three

39 ~ Infected Town (Part Two)

The thing is, I can't take all your advice about not returning to Infected Town. I did all of this last week, before heading into California. I'm currently safe in San Francisco with no signs of moldiness.

When last we left off, our plucky heroine (yours truly) planned to spend the night in the motel and return to Creepyville in the morning to do a bit of true exploring.

I asked the gas station attendant about the ghost town up the road. He said he used to get a lot of regulars from up that way, but not for a while. Then the road got closed. There used to be a few more signs and some police tape, he said, and he'd seen a couple cop cars parked by the barriers. I asked him the name of the village, but he said he didn't know. I thought that was really weird; why wouldn't you know the name of a town half an hour away?

"There's nothing up that way," he said as I left. Oh good. My own personal Harbinger of Doom.

The next morning I got up and packed my backpack. Flashlights, extra batteries, gloves, an N95 respirator in case of mold or asbestos, some rope, a fuck ton of glow sticks, a few flares, a basic first aid kit and my Swiss Army knife. Plus bottled water. I also brought my handy-dandy crowbar. It was heavy but worth lugging around in the face of a stuck door or window.

Like an idiot, I'd left my camera at home. I'd mourned this since the night before, when I looked in my bag and found it missing. I was sure I'd packed it, having planned to explore a couple places my friend knew of in San Francisco, but it's probably sitting on my bed at home, all lonely and sad. I took a couple pictures in the town with my phone, but none of them turned out. Terrible lighting, I guessed at the time.

So. The first exploration. That feeling of being watched returned immediately upon crossing the bridge into the village, and as I drove towards the buildings the scent of mold did, as well. Faint but eternally present.

My first stop was the police station.

I weighed the pros and cons of breaking into a government building, but not for long. I was too eager. The town was as empty as ever, after all. I parked in the lot behind the station, beside a few dusty squad cars.

I guess the building should be called more of a sheriff's office than an actual police station. It's a low, tan colored building with a ground floor and a basement. The windows in the back aren't busted like the front, but they're grimy. Spots of black adorn the corners of most of them, which I soon discovered was some kind of mold. I've never seen mold like it, though.

I tried the front doors first, in case people were actually in the building, but they were locked. I swung around back where I'd seen a metal maintenance door when I parked. It had been firmly shut, I remembered, and I didn't have much hope for it. Already planning to try to pry open a window, I came around the corner of the building.

The maintenance door was open. I blinked. Yes, there it was, open just a crack. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before, but brushed it off.

Breathing deeply, I pulled open the door and was met with the stifling smell of mold. I got the N95 out of my bag and affixed it to my face in case of spores. I stepped inside the building after wedging the door open with a heavy rock.

The hallway I stood in had a bathroom to my immediate right and a custodial supply closet to my left. It led into a large office area, with many doors and cubicles. There were three small jail cells in the northeast corner, and through a metal door to the east was the reception and waiting area. The place was dusty and sounds were muffled, like cloth pressed over the ears. The interior had a distinct look of decay - paint was peeling from the walls, all the light bulbs were broken, the carpet was pulling up at the corners.