“Sure thing.” He detailed a route that didn’t include recrossing the bridge but was heavy on “turn at the second light after the Mexican restaurant.” Well, if I missed it, the town wasn’t that big. I’d figure it out. I thanked him, slung my pack solidly on my shoulders, and set out.
Fifteen minutes later, I stopped to set Mimsy down and get the crick out of my neck.I’ll figure it out.Turned out, I was real good at overestimating myself. There’d been some businesses at first, but now I’d passed through a residential community of big, expensive-looking houses and seemed to be nearing the edge of town, and still no Target. “Is it just me,” I asked Mimsy, “or are we not in Kansas anymore?”
She meowed mockingly and began walking off. I hurried to keep up with her. She liked to explore, but hopefully she was aiming for the open land ahead and not the fancy lawns—aren’t there water restrictions or something— and fake-adobe-styled mansions where they probably shot trespassers.
Mimsy trotted across the last street and then down a paved drive toward an isolated building. The sign at the corner of the drive said, “Lafontaine Vineyards – Wine Tasting.” The parking lot stood empty. Maybe folks didn’t drink wine until after dinner? Except as we approached, I realized that lot looked unkempt and the big front windows were covered in sheets of black plywood.
Hmm. Promising.
“Is black plywood classier than plain?” I asked Mimsy, who didn’t look back at me. “Just saying, I can imagine the local town council or whatever. ‘Yes, Mr. Snooty Wine Guy, we understand you’re closing the building, but you need to put up pretty boards. Don’t uglify us.’”
Mimsy trotted around the side of the building and I followed her. The place was bigger than it looked from the parking lot, with a flat roof on the single-story front section, and a second story rising above the back half. For an abandoned building, the walls were surprisingly untouched. No graffiti, no cracked stucco, only a drift of wind-blown trash along the foundation. Other than the well-boarded-up front, the lower floor had only high glass blocks set in the walls, but they were all intact and there was no broken glass up in the second-floor windows either. The local punks and drifters seemed to have missed the place.
“Unlike us.”
A sign by the side door touted “protected by NJC Alarm Systems” but the post leaned at an angle and the print was weather-faded. I tried the door, ready to run if an alarm sounded, but of course, the handle was locked.
“What do you think, Mim?” There’d have been all kinds of security back when the place was full of wine, but were the alarms still working? The growth of dry weeds along the pavement and in the flowerbeds where there’d once been landscaping said no one had taken care of the place in a while.
“Couple of ways to find out.” I could toss a rock through one of those high windows and see if it set anything off, but I hated to do damage for no good cause. I could try to pry open the back door, although it looked solid…
“Or even better.” Electrical conduit ran down the wall to an outdoor receptacle beside the door. Glancing around, I saw nothing behind me or to the left but dusty fields. To the right, the nearest house was a fair distance off across the parking lot and road. Unlikely they’d notice me.
I knelt, unslung my pack, and got out my rechargeable lantern. If there was juice, I’d refill my battery and call it a win. If there wasn’t… Mimsy came over to inspect what I was doing as I opened the cover and plugged in. The charging light on my little lantern didn’t go on. “No power, baby. Hopefully not just a bum outlet. We’re a go.”
Sure, alarm systems had backup batteries, but they usually lasted a few hours, maybe a few days. No power meant no alarm, which meant a possible windfall. I looked up, gauging my route. The downstairs was boarded up tight, but the upstairs wasn’t. “Right. Time to make like a monkey.” I went back along the side of the building to the front where one of those thick plywood sheets covered a window. The protruding edge along the top would offer a grip, and, if I could get a foot up, I had a doable stretch to the flat roof section of the first story. Maybe. Once I hauled myself up, I could walk across the roof to the second-floor section and reach around the corner to get in by a window. Here in front, I’d be visible at a distance from those big houses across the road, but what were the odds they spent their precious time staring at the local eyesore?
“You first, Mim. Up.” I pointed toward the roof. “Up there.” I lifted her in both hands, then raised her as high as I could, bracing my arms above my head. She pushed off my hands with a practiced leap, landing on the roof ten or eleven feet off the ground. Turning around, she peered over the edge at me and meowed.
“Yeah, well, give me a seven-foot head start and I’d be up there that easy too.” I thought for a bit, then took out my screwdriver, stuck it in a back pocket, and tucked my pack out of sight under a bush along the wall. The climb would be dicey enough without that weight on my back. I rolled out my shoulders, tied my sneakers around my neck by the laces, tucked my socks into them—phew, laundry soonest— and approached the promising spot. With a stretch, I was able to hook my fingers up over the top edge of the thick board. Being six feet tall and lean was a bonus for this kind of adventure. I bounced on my toes, dug in my fingers, jumped and hauled, swinging a leg high.
Ouch.I landed back on the ground with my stubbed toe throbbing.Crap.
Mimsy meowed down at me again.
“Trying, baby.” I shook out my hands, then took another shot. This time, I was able to get my scrabbling toes up and into a notch with enough purchase to push myself upward. Blessing my long arms and legs, I clamped one hand over the raised dark-gray edge of the trim, then the other.Thank God it’s gotten cloudy, or I’d be frying my fingers.I hauled, strained, and tipped myself up and over the lip to land hard on my chest. A wriggle, a kick to get my legs over, and I lay on the white, plasticky surface of the flat roof.
Mimsy came over and huffed in my face as if to ask what took me so long.
“Yeah, fish breath. I’m getting up.” I put my socks and shoes back on and pushed to my feet.
The second story covered only the back third of the building’s area, leaving the expanse of lower roof I was standing on in front of it. The side I was on had no second-floor windows, which made sense because who wants to look out at forty feet of white plastic? Luckily, the designer had put a window not much more than a foot along on the side. I braced myself carefully, gripping the wall, leaned around the corner, and peered inside.
The space looked like an office or conference room with a small table and four chairs. The tabletop was bare, the chairs pushed back against the wall, and I couldn’t see any electronics. Abandoned, but not wrecked. Promising.
I pulled out my screwdriver, studied the window frame, and began prying where I thought the latch might be. To my surprise, it popped open almost immediately. No alarm sounded. There was no screen either. For a Midwestern boy, that was inviting mosquitoes to come feast on you, but maybe SoCal was too dry for bloodsuckers.
I forced the window wider. “Crappy construction, or not locked. What do you think?”
Mimsy batted at my shoelace and didn’t offer an opinion.
“Okay. You first. Careful now.” I lifted her, watching my balance as I moved her around the corner, above the fifteen-foot drop, then into the window. She jumped from my hands to the floor inside and began exploring.
My turn.The maneuver wasn’t hard, although my cursed imagination pictured the broken leg I’d get if I messed up. Or the broken neck. I clutched the edge of the window, swung a leg around, and cleared the sill.Hell, yeah.Shifting my weight and dragging the other leg in was a piece of cake, if cake was good at scraping up your shins. But then I was safely inside. I tumbled to the floor and dusted off my hands.
“I’ve still got it, Mimsy.”
She meowed at the closed door and I hurried to let her through into a shadowy hallway.
