Darkness Girl: Trickster God

Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Sound of Screaming

Forester felt a chill and pulled his arms in to warm himself. There was a cold night wind blowing in off the ocean that made goosebumps stand out on his skin. He crouched with his back to a stack of heavy plastic crates and tried to keep his body in the shadows. 

He'd followed Gareth from Sarafina's house after they'd taken Eva. It hadn't been hard. They'd pushed her into a dark green van with patches of rust on the doors that made it look like it had been dragged out of the ocean. Forester had followed them in his own car down the coast towards the port area, where the fishing trawlers unloaded their catches for processing. 

He'd almost lost them when they reached the docks. He'd had to leave his car behind, near the entrance. It was too conspicuous to for him to follow them into the facility itself without other cars to hide amongst. Eventually, he found the van parked outside a decrepit building with a peeling, sun-bleached sign on the roof that said Wayne's Seafood Wholesale and Cold Storage. From the look of it, Wayne's hadn't been in business for a long time. 

Forester examined the front of the building, trying to think about his next move. He looked at his watch and watched the seconds tick by, while thoughts whirled and twisted through his head like a swarm of mosquitoes. With every second that passed, it was more likely that he would be too late. He had an image of Eva's tiny corpse in front of him, contorted and broken like a discarded doll. 

He rolled up the sleeves of his jacket and rubbed his face. His palms were damp with sweat and his stomach was churning like a washing machine. 

He drew his sword partially from its sheath and looked at the blade. It was the only piece of equipment he'd brought with him. He hadn't expected to end up on the docks planning a hostage rescue tonight. The sword had been a present from his parents when he'd been accepted as an apprentice with Silverwater. It still felt strangely unreal to him. It wasn't like any other tool, like a hammer or screwdriver; it had it's own magic about it. He made sure he looked after it. He kept the blade sharp and the handle wrappings tight. He's been on three missions since joining Silverwater and he'd never had to draw it. 

Forester pushed the sword back into its sheath, then stood up and ran for the door of the building. The windows were dark. If there was someone watching, they'd be able to see him, but he couldn't see any other way to make his approach. As he reached the entrance, he pressed himself against the wall. The door was made of aluminium and glass panels. It was crusted with dirt and cobwebs that made the glass almost opaque, and there was a star of cracks in the bottom panel. Forester peered through the grime and tried to make out any movement in the darkness. 

There was nothing. No movements and no shouts of warning. The only sound was his own heavy breathing.

Forester placed his hand on the handle and pushed the door open carefully. He winced as the bottom of the door scraped against the dirty tile floor. 

Inside the building, the air still carried the faint smell of fish. The metal counters that would once have held trays of ice and seafood stood empty, and there were patches of tiles missing from the floor that exposed the concrete slab beneath. 

Forester walked through the room quickly, towards a doorway at the back covered by a set of yellowed plastic curtains. He slipped past the curtains and paused to take stock of his surroundings.

He was surprised at the size of the room he was standing in. There were rows of metal benches in front of him stretching back into the darkness. Plastic hoses hung from the ceiling, and there were large drain gratings evenly spaced out along the tiled floor. Forester guessed that this was probably where they had once cleaned and processed the seafood before it was pushed out to the shop floor.