despite the basement’s size. The light issued from the door of a large furnace on the far side of the room. Decades worth of junk had accumulated in every clear space, reducing the odds of him finding anything, even an object as large as a human body. He couldn’t guess where to start to look.
Not at first, anyway. If his brother’s body had been brought here to be disposed of, then one place more than any other posed a possible solution.
Hadrian pushed himself away from the door and circled the massive metal bulk of the furnace. It emitted a powerful subsonic rumble as it digested coal and turned it into heat for the antiquated building above. Pipes circled it like metal ropes, attempting to contain the terrible pressure in its guts. It had the air of something about to break free and lumber around the room, crushing everything in its path.
The furnace’s small door was made of toughened glass, smudged black from years of service and as wide across as one of Hadrian’s outstretched arms. He peered through it but could see nothing except glowing coals and heat. A heavy iron bar and a shovel rested nearby. He grabbed the bar and banged the latch until it fell away and he could tug the door open. It was like looking into hell.
A blast of heat rolled over him. The low frequency rumble increased. Hadrian shielded his eyes. The space within was as large as an industrial oven. Tortured air made chaos of its contents. He gradually discerned glowing lumps of coal and ash in fiery drifts, all painted in shades of orange. The barrage of flame and superheated air tantalised him with hints of things tossed into the furnace for disposal — perhaps illegally — including syringes and empty drug containers.
There was nothing resembling a person. Hadrian imagined Seth’s body shrivelling up like a raisin, curling into a knot and shrinking, collapsing upon itself until what ashes remained were caught in the updraught and hurled skyward through the ancient, caked chimney.
As he stood looking at the glowing coals, he heard a voice calling his name.
‘Hadrian Castillo,’ it said, ‘why are you running? Show yourself. You will come to no harm.’
He recognised the thick, slightly formal accent. The voice belonged to Lascowicz.
‘ We have something in common, you know. We are both completely out of our depth. I did not know who you were, at first. I did not know who I was. Now that I have realised, perhaps together we can find a solution to the mess the world is in.’
Hadrian backed away from the furnace. He wasn’t imagining the voice. It was real, but there was an unusual quality to it, as though he wasn’t hearing it entirely through his ears. It became stronger as he moved back the way he had come, around the furnace and across the basement.
Gently, he opened the door to the narrow stairwell. The voice echoed out of it.
‘I know you can hear me. Many things are changing around you. Can you feel it? Do you have the slightest idea what happened to you and your brother? To me? If not, you are in grave danger. We can help you. We are the good guys, Hadrian. We are trying to save the world.’
He closed the door and tried not to listen. The detective and his sidekick had obviously managed to make the hospital’s intercom system work. He wasn’t going to be gullible enough to fall for their appeal. Although they had seemed innocent enough at first, he couldn’t afford to trust them now. He would have to find out what had happened to him on his own; and then he would find Ellis and get on with his life.
But first, there was the matter of Seth’s body.
When Hadrian had moved away from the furnace, he had felt something strange tugging at him. The feeling had been strong, and as he came back to the furnace it returned. He felt he was getting close to something important.
He peered down into the orange-hot coals once more. This time he saw more than just the remains of burned coal and rubbish: visible
Not at first, anyway. If his brother’s body had been brought here to be disposed of, then one place more than any other posed a possible solution.
Hadrian pushed himself away from the door and circled the massive metal bulk of the furnace. It emitted a powerful subsonic rumble as it digested coal and turned it into heat for the antiquated building above. Pipes circled it like metal ropes, attempting to contain the terrible pressure in its guts. It had the air of something about to break free and lumber around the room, crushing everything in its path.
The furnace’s small door was made of toughened glass, smudged black from years of service and as wide across as one of Hadrian’s outstretched arms. He peered through it but could see nothing except glowing coals and heat. A heavy iron bar and a shovel rested nearby. He grabbed the bar and banged the latch until it fell away and he could tug the door open. It was like looking into hell.
A blast of heat rolled over him. The low frequency rumble increased. Hadrian shielded his eyes. The space within was as large as an industrial oven. Tortured air made chaos of its contents. He gradually discerned glowing lumps of coal and ash in fiery drifts, all painted in shades of orange. The barrage of flame and superheated air tantalised him with hints of things tossed into the furnace for disposal — perhaps illegally — including syringes and empty drug containers.
There was nothing resembling a person. Hadrian imagined Seth’s body shrivelling up like a raisin, curling into a knot and shrinking, collapsing upon itself until what ashes remained were caught in the updraught and hurled skyward through the ancient, caked chimney.
As he stood looking at the glowing coals, he heard a voice calling his name.
‘Hadrian Castillo,’ it said, ‘why are you running? Show yourself. You will come to no harm.’
He recognised the thick, slightly formal accent. The voice belonged to Lascowicz.
‘ We have something in common, you know. We are both completely out of our depth. I did not know who you were, at first. I did not know who I was. Now that I have realised, perhaps together we can find a solution to the mess the world is in.’
Hadrian backed away from the furnace. He wasn’t imagining the voice. It was real, but there was an unusual quality to it, as though he wasn’t hearing it entirely through his ears. It became stronger as he moved back the way he had come, around the furnace and across the basement.
Gently, he opened the door to the narrow stairwell. The voice echoed out of it.
‘I know you can hear me. Many things are changing around you. Can you feel it? Do you have the slightest idea what happened to you and your brother? To me? If not, you are in grave danger. We can help you. We are the good guys, Hadrian. We are trying to save the world.’
He closed the door and tried not to listen. The detective and his sidekick had obviously managed to make the hospital’s intercom system work. He wasn’t going to be gullible enough to fall for their appeal. Although they had seemed innocent enough at first, he couldn’t afford to trust them now. He would have to find out what had happened to him on his own; and then he would find Ellis and get on with his life.
But first, there was the matter of Seth’s body.
When Hadrian had moved away from the furnace, he had felt something strange tugging at him. The feeling had been strong, and as he came back to the furnace it returned. He felt he was getting close to something important.
He peered down into the orange-hot coals once more. This time he saw more than just the remains of burned coal and rubbish: visible
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