It Waits on the Top Floor (Horror Lurks Beneath Book 1)

by Ben Farthing

  Chris took a breath.

  This wasn't the smartest choice.

  He should talk to Dr. Terry, maybe he could get Chris inside.

  No wait, Dr. Terry was going to break in, too.

  Breaking in was the best option, then.

  He peered around the neighborhood, but didn't see anyone outside. He could ask if anyone saw Eddie, but he didn't need confirmation to know that Eddie did what Eddie intended.

  The boy worried too much about keeping the house clean, but when he decided to get something done, he couldn't be diverted.

  Eddie was in that building.

  Chris needed to get him out.

  And not just to avoid the breaking-and-entering charge.

  But because the building was impossible. It couldn't have gone up overnight. And yet it did. Something inside had broke every rule of construction, and Chris didn't know if it was structurally sound. Or otherwise dangerous.

  It did feel dangerous. The possessive urge remained, but now that the building loomed over him, it gave off an unnatural aura. If it was his, he didn't want it. And he damn well didn't want his son inside.

  He walked back around the building. He couldn't find one single goddamn loose brick. Not even a heavy branch.

  That wasn't the best way to break in, anyways. He'd probably cut his hand open and then be stuck getting stitched while Eddie wandered a dangerous skyscraper.

  There was a Home Depot not far from here. He could get a crowbar, come back, and force a door open.

  He looked once more for something that could break a window. Nothing.

  Chris jumped in his car and raced away.

  10

  Chris was in and out in five minutes. Since he still had Sherri's credit card, he didn't limit himself to the crowbar. He didn't know where in that unnatural building Eddie had got to. He grabbed everything he imagined might be useful for forcing his way through an office building. Then he charged them all to Sherri's Visa, and jumped back into the car.

  He pulled up his phone's GPS to make sure he had the fastest way back.

  The Steelside Cafe was on the way.

  That's where Dr. Terry originally said to meet him.

  It was a big building. It wouldn't hurt to ask Dr. Terry's crew to keep an eye out for Eddie.

  And Chris could see if Dr. Terry actually had a client, or was on his own mission.

  Chris could be in and out in two minutes.

  With that decided, he drove to the Steelside Cafe, and parked between a Tesla Model S and a Land Rover.

  So this was an upper crust sort of sandwich shop.

  Sherri would chide him for criticizing wealth. Some people worked hard. Others were lucky. We don't need to hate them for it.

  Sure, but that didn't mean he'd feel comfortable around them.

  He got out of the car.

  He'd actually heard of The Steelside Cafe, since it had a raving review on Good Eats. It was a two-story colonial house, converted into a restaurant after the busy Hermitage Road was rezoned commercial. It was the hottest new joint in Lakeside, one neighborhood over from the impossible tower.

  Chris watched a bearded man in a leather jacket walking his labradoodle spot the building, hesitate, snap a photo with his phone, then keep walking.

  A sixty-story skyscraper had shown up in a mostly residential area of town, but dogs still had to shit. Folks had to go to work. And eat.

  Chris walked inside the cafe. A bell jangled. He breathed in the smell of fresh bread.

  A short line of people waited at the counter for coffee and croissants. A dozen tables took up the seating area, half occupied. The restaurant was small enough that even a little conversation created a cramped din.

  Chris scanned the room for Dr. Terry. Chris had somehow beat him here. Or Dr. Terry had lied about the meeting place, or moved it out of fear that Chris would crash it.

  He felt a surge of panic. If Dr. Terry lied about this, what else did he lie about? How dangerous was the new building? And now he'd wasted time by stopping here.

  Then Chris saw a familiar face. Dr. Terry wasn't lying about having a wealthy client.

  He'd seen her on TV, and in dozens of news articles. It had to be her.

  Micah Rayner.

  She was tall and slender. Shoulder-length hair that had been fiery red once, was now fading to white. She ate an English muffin sandwich with a fork and knife.

  She sat at the table in the window with two men, who Chris didn't care about yet. Micah Rayner was a goddamn celebrity. Chris had applied for an internship at one of her firms, but hadn't even been invited to the first round of interviews. She was doing for construction what Henry Ford had done for automation, or what John Browning had done for the rifle.

  Chris thought of a million questions to ask her. Was Elon Musk angry when your solar panel roof doubled his power output? Do you expect your fire control system to be adopted for residential use? What was your secret construction project at the White House?

  Any other time, Chris would geek out at meeting this tech and construction billionaire. But today, he needed a simple favor.

  He walked up, thrust out his hand. "Hi Micah, I'm-"

  One of the men he'd ignored grabbed Chris's wrist and slammed it against the table, which scraped and screeched against the floor. Orange juice and coffee splashed onto the tabletop.

  The man's grip was like a vice squeezing Chris's bones together.

  Chris twisted his neck to get a look at him.

  He was a skyscraper himself. Only fawning over celebrity had caused Chris to miss him. Sitting down, he could look Chris level in the eyes. Beard stubble did a poor job of covering scars under his eye and below his lip. Cauliflower ear suggested that when he wasn't protecting Micah from handshakes, he was fighting people for fun, maybe in a boxing ring, probably in a back alley.

  "Who are you?" he growled.

  Micah answered for him. "This must be Chris Haberman. Dr. Terry went to fetch him. Where is Dr. Terry?" She spoke softly, but firmly. "Let go of his wrist, Roberts."

  Roberts released Chris. He drank deep from his steaming coffee cup. Chris rubbed his sore wrist and made a mental note to avoid sudden movements.

  "Have a seat," Micah gestured to an open seat between Roberts and the other man Chris hadn't paid attention to yet. "This is Leon."

  This last man was closer to Chris's size. He wore a blonde beard down to his chest, and buzzed hair. His camouflage coat looked odd next to Roberts' wool sailor's peacoat, and Micah's leather jacket. Leon chewed a donut with his mouth open, and winked at Chris when he caught him staring. Chris nodded a hello.

  Chris looked back to Micah. "I've turned down Dr. Terry's offer, but I need to ask a favor." As the words came out of his mouth, he felt like an idiot. Turn down a job with Micah Rayner?

  "It wasn't your old mentor's offer." Micah patted her mouth with a handkerchief. "It was mine."

  "I guess I should reconsider, but honestly, I'm looking at bigger things right now."

  She held up her hand. "You'd prefer the open contract. Dr. Terry mentioned that."

  Oh yeah. He'd said that to the old man to piss him off.

  Roberts huffed like a rhinoceros and eyed Chris like he were a rodent about to be stomped. "Selfish and stupid."

  "Enterprising," offered Leon. He wiped coffee from his mouth with a camouflage sleeve.

  "No, I-"

  Micah cut him off again. "Your decision surprised me, based on Dr. Terry's description of you. I imagined a failed architect with raw talent and unorthodox interests would be a model employee, but here you are beaming with entrepreneurial spirit. Why aren't you a broken man, Mr. Haberman?"

  If she was interviewing him for a job, it was the oddest question he'd ever heard. "Well first off, fuck Dr. Terry. He sabotaged my portfolio out of grad school. Blows my mind why he'd recommend me to you now. Either way, a slow start to my career isn't enough to break me."

  "I see that. The question is why?"

  "I've go
t responsibilities." Eddie needed stability. And to get the hell out of that building.

  "Many broken men put food on their tables. I'd still expect you to be more resigned to failure."

  "I've got bigger problems than money right now. I came to ask-"

  "Still dancing around my question."

  This cutting him off was getting annoying. "What is this crazy shit? I don't want your job. If Dr. Terry's involved, he'll find a way to fuck me over."

  Micah's gaze went sharp, and Chris remembered that she commanded multi-billion dollar organizations.

  "Watch your tone," growled Roberts.

  Leon swatted Roberts' arm. "Easy there, big guy. Let them haggle out their agreement."

  Chris took a breath. "I'm sorry. I only stopped by because I know you're going in that building, and my son heard me turn down Dr. Terry's offer, so now he's ran off to break in himself. He thinks there's a treasure inside."

  Leon clapped once. "I like this kid. He sees what he wants and--bam!--goes after it."

  "You don't know the half of it," Chris said. "So the only reason I'm here is to ask you to keep an eye out for him while you're in there."

  Micah ran her finger along the lip of her cup. "Why does your son think there's treasure in the building?"

  "He misunderstood Dr. Terry's offer. Instead of searching the building to reverse engineer it and then get paid, he thought I'd be searching for something valuable."

  "You would be," said Micah. "In a sense."

  "You know what I mean."

  "If I'm understanding you," Micah said, "you received a job offer paying three times the going rate, and instead turned it down to pursue the related open contract. But you've since changed your mind, and are now only here to ask that we search for your truant son?"

  "More or less, yeah."

  "You've struggled to launch your career, correct? And you do know who I am? Why aren't you leaping at this opportunity?"

  She was right. Or she would be, if Eddie hadn't run off. "It's just been a hell of a morning."

  Leon exaggerated a scoff. "I bet mine was worse. Two flat tires!"

  "My wife left me," Chris said, "one week after we finalized the adoption of our son."

  Leon hissed. "Ouch."

  A weight collapsed on Chris's shoulders. It was Roberts patting his back. The giant gave a supportive, painful squeeze, and then went back to his coffee. "I don't wish that grief on anybody. It's good you're staying focused on your boy."

  Micah's bodyguard was an emotional cheerleader. Not what Chris expected.

  "Perhaps you'd like another opportunity to accept my offer," Micah said. "If even your son has noticed your financial stress, then you must be desperate for money."

  Chris ground his molars, trying to think. Every second he waited here, Eddie got deeper into the building. "I still don't trust Dr. Terry."

  "Your contract would be with me."

  "If I'm working with him, he'll find a way to screw me over."

  Roberts said to Micah, "Let him pursue the open contract. He's too distracted to be an effective member of our team."

  Micah rubbed her chin. "I'd prefer he be nearby."

  "Why?" Chris asked. "Why me?"

  "I was impressed with Dr. Terry's description of you."

  That was hard to believe, but Chris didn't see why Micah would lie about it. The more he thought about her offer, the more it made sense. He was heading inside anyways to get Eddie. "I'll go after the open contract."

  Now Micah asked, "Why?"

  "For the money."

  "There's something else."

  "What do you care?"

  "Tell me why you want the job."

  Chris took a breath. She'd pried open the floodgates, so he'd give her what she wanted. "I need to pay rent. Eddie--my boy--got passed around from his bio mom to aunts and uncles to grandparents, even before he entered the foster care system. Then two years of adding my wife and I into the carousel of instability, and right when the judge finally says, 'slow down, let's keep the ground steady under the kid's feet,' his new adoptive mom takes off. And she takes her regular paycheck with her. I need rent money. Because Eddie needs a permanent home." Chris jammed his tongue between his teeth to keep from grinding them. He didn't even like being that open with Sherri, let alone a table of strangers. But Micah had forced it out of him.

  Micah shook her head. "That's why you need money. Why do you want to enter this building?"

  Because it's mine, Chris thought. But he said, "To get my son out before he gets arrested. And the money for a stable home."

  Micah locked eyes with him. Somehow, she knew he was lying.

  She looked at Roberts. "What do you think?"

  Chris reevaluated Roberts' position. Bodyguard, emotional cheerleader, and consultant?

  "He's dealing with anxiety, grief, and years of doubting himself. I think he needs this tower job."

  Something about the way Roberts phrased that caught Chris's attention. Chris needed any job. What did this specific job have to do with Chris's situation?

  Micah pinched her brow. She wasn't satisfied with Roberts' answer, either. She seemed to be hunting for something inside Chris. He didn't like it.

  "You can pursue the contract," Micah said.

  Roberts pulled a briefcase out from under the table, opened it, and handed Chris the top sheet of a stack of identical forms. There at the top: $200,000.

  That would keep Eddie safe and steady. How had he stumbled into such luck?

  It wasn't luck. Dr. Terry had recommended him.

  But it'd still be up to Chris to actually get it done.

  Fortunately, he already had a plan. Reverse engineering a building wasn't hard. The answer had been obvious as soon as he talked with Dr. Terry.

  "You'll find the deliverables are vague," Micah said, "but that's because I'm interested in any information about the tower's rapid construction. Whoever takes credit for this could too easily poach my company's investors, my best engineers, and my reputation. Help me be the first to learn the builder's secrets, and I'll happily write you that check."

  "How about blueprints?" Chris offered. He bit his tongue. He shouldn't have given away the game.

  "Bullshit," said Leon. "You don't have those."

  "I know where to find them."

  Micah smiled. "Call us when you do."

  Chris went back outside.

  The new cold front slipped inside the collar and sleeves of his winter coat. He looked up at the skyscraper. It didn't belong in this part of town, surrounded by houses and grassy lots. It didn't belong here at all, not popping up overnight like this.

  But Eddie was in there. So Chris was going in, too.

  And while inside, he'd grab that $200,000 reward.

  He was continually stunned at executive blindspots. Dr. Terry had designed multi-million dollar buildings. Micah Rayner was the world's only hybrid tech/construction billionaire. But they'd never worked closely with general contractors or construction managers. Pompous elites like them always used middlemen to manage the folks who actually got their hands dirty. They'd never been the boots on the ground, making sure the building got built to plans.

  If they had, they'd know that standard practice was to store the blueprints in the building's maintenance room, usually right on ground level.

  Chris got in his car, ready to go make the easiest $200,000 of his life.

  Leon came running out of the Steelside Cafe, waving to stop him.

  11

  Chris put the car back into park.

  Leon pulled his camouflage coat tight around him, against the biting wind. "Hold on a sec." He jogged to Chris's window.

  Chris looked up at the bearded man. The skyscraper loomed behind him.

  Chris felt his molars scraping together. "Did Micah change her mind?"

  "What? No. You're still going after the blueprints. Micah, Roberts, and Dr. Terry are doing Dr. Terry's idea of admiring the design, or something like that. I'm going with you."r />
  Chris shook his head. "So you can take the whole contract fee? Or half of it, when I'm the one with the plan?"

  "Take a breath, why don't you? Fill your lungs with this cool air, and calm down a second. I already signed a contract with Micah. I'm on the clock. She thinks your plan is just as strong as Dr. Terry's--even though you were all mysterious about it--so I'm here to help you out. The open contract is still all yours. You mind if I ride with you? I just gotta grab something from my truck."

  Leon jogged off before Chris could respond.

  He didn't know if he could trust Micah. Leon seemed likable enough, but that was easily faked.

  But he did trust written contracts. He stuck the paper inside the glovebox and locked it.

  A second later, his back door opened. Leon threw a duffle bag on top of Chris's Home Depot purchases. Metal clanged against metal. The car jostled on its shocks.

  Leon sat in the front seat. "You know the way?"

  Chris looked at the skyscraper that filled up half the sky above them. "I can find it."

  He drove down Hermitage, over I-95, and back into Richmond's Northside neighborhoods.

  "How'd Micah find you?" Chris asked.

  "College. We both went to Tech."

  "Micah went to Tech?"

  Leon laughed. "What, you don't think the Hokies could produce a billionaire? Micah was already in business--then she decided she needed a structural engineering degree and went back to school."

  "And then she hired you?"

  "Just for this job. We didn't keep in touch or nothing. She sent Roberts to offer me the gig at seven this morning."

  "What do you usually do for work?"

  "Building inspector out in Goochland."

  "So Micah wanted a building inspector she could trust?"

  "Eh, maybe that was part of it. Back in college, I liked to... explore... buildings. All the back corridors and service hallways."

  "You're a building hacker?"

  "I prefer 'urban explorer.' But I'm a little rusty now. It's been a solid ten years since I crawled through any ductwork."