by Abbey, Kit
Burn all the things you have to burn,
save all the people you’re supposed to save.
“Scavenger Babies”
John Darnielle
Chapter 1.
The doors of the Grey Building were large and black, probably made from ebony. William didn’t actually know what ebony was, but it seemed liked the kind of thing Grey Corp would build their doors out of. They were impressive, was the point. And different from any other smooth surface the city had to offer, in that they were completely void of graffiti. Just perfect, uniform blackness; like a window looking out over an abyss. And that was just the kind of comforting thought that was going to make him lose his nerve. It’s now or never. You can do it! Eye of the tiger, etc etc.
An old woman passed by and, perhaps realising what William planned to do, gasped and started to walk faster.
He pushed the black doors open and stepped inside the Grey Building.
Chapter 2.
The floor, he had imagined, would be cold grey marble. Or black concrete so highly polished it would be like walking on a still pond at night. Which is why the soft, red carpet of the cavernous room really threw him, and he couldn’t stop staring at it. Not that there was really anything else to see. The walls were grey and bare, (they, at least, had the decency to conform to William’s expectations) and the room lacked furniture. Large windows framed the entrance, heavily tinted. The room was oddly shadowed, because the only light came from ornate sconces placed midway up the walls. He was about to look up, to see if maybe there was a mural or something painted on the ceiling that would explain the oddly placed lights, but before he could there was a whooshing noise. An elevator on the left side of the room opened, and a woman stepped out. She was very blond, and her jeans were very tight. She spotted him right away, (in an empty room the nervous guy by the door tends to stick out), and walked over.
As she got closer he noticed that her nails were painted the exact same shade of red as the carpet and he wondered what kind of things she was noticing about him. His frayed right shoelace? The overly new look to his shirt and tie? He'd only bought them a few days before. Well, borrowed. From a store. Without paying. But all of his other clothes had either holes or band logos featuring prominently, and he hadn't even owned a tie. So what was he to do, ask Aunt Janet to buy him a new outfit so the resident criminal empire would be more likely to take him on?
"Are you lost?" asked the woman. Everything, from the tone of her voice to the way she folded her arms, screamed annoyance.
“No." William considered the notion. "Do a lot of people just wander in here, not knowing where they are?”
"Then what-" she raised her chin, because they were about the same height and it was the only way she could effectively look down her nose at him, "-are you doing here?"
"Um." He fiddled with the strap on his backpack. "Well, I would like a job."
She lowered her chin and rolled her eyes. "Try McDonalds. We don't hire kids."
"I’m not a kid," said William. "I’m eighteen."
She regarded him silently.
"Today's my birthday."
She sighed. "Whatever, kid. I don't have time for this. You want a job, look up."
“What? Is that some kind of riddle I have to solve, or...?"
She rolled her eyes again. "No, I am literally telling you to look up." She jerked her head towards the ceiling.
William hesitated and the blond gave a quick little head tilt, a 'well, come on!' kind of gesture.
William looked up.
And then he fainted.
Chapter 3.
The ceiling of the room in which William awoke was both white and boring, for which he was grateful. The locked door was less comforting. William gave the doorknob a few turns, which achieved little, and then gave it a swift kick, which achieved even less.
“Great,” he said. “Just great.”
He moved to a corner and slouched down. He didn’t have to move far, because the room was pretty small. Bathroom sized. The floor was shining grey marble, and the walls were off white. Three were bare, the forth was adorned by a painting in one of those fancy gilt frames. It was your average classical piece; soft and curvy girls, little angels, some fruit. The room was exactly how he’d though the entrance room would be. There was a marble statue of a naked woman staring blankly down at him. William took off his tie and blindfolded it. Then he sat back down.
According to his watch he remained on the cold, hard, very uncomfortable floor for two hours. But his watch was not well known for its reliability and as such it might not have been that long. Or, depressingly, it might have been longer.
Sitting on the cold marble there was little else for him to do but think. (This wasn’t strictly true; he made shadow animals for a while, but he wasn’t very good at it and it got boring quickly).
He wondered how the fact that he had fainted was going affect his chances with Grey Corp. (He carefully avoided thinking about what had made him faint in the first place).
A small part of him hoped that his behaviour meant that Grey Corp would not want to hire him. And if he was being really honest he would admit that is was not so much a small part of him as it was all of him.
But, if he was not taken on by Grey Corp, what would he do? Going back to Aunt Janice just wasn’t an option and he was pretty sure another day at his shit kicking job would kill him. His life loomed ahead, long and working some boring, law abiding job. Maybe a wife, maybe some kids. Hoping to never give Grey Corp a reason to notice him. No. Unacceptable.
William sighed heavily, and at that exact moment the door became a whole lot less locked and swung open, revealing a short man with grey hair and round little John Lennon spectacles.
He looked down at William, who was still sitting cross legged on the floor, and then he looked around the room. “That’s a nice painting,” he said.
“Sure, I guess.”
The man smiled at him. “So, I hear you want a job?”
Chapter 4.
Each corridor the little man led William down had the same red carpet as the entrance room. William worried that the ceiling would also be the same at the entrance room as well, and so he refused to look up. The man, correctly interpreting the reason behind William’s floor bound stare, laughed.
“You can look up,” he said, “my yes, nothing but white paint above us.”
It took several attempts to work up enough nerve, but William finally managed a quick glance at the ceiling. He sighed in relief when he saw that the man had been telling the truth.
“It’s a mammoth effort keeping that carpet clean, let me tell you” the man went on. He walked with a bit of a limp, and kept one hand pressed into his hip. “Blood and slime and the lord only knows what else dripping on it every day. We have to have all replaced monthly, such a waste, my yes, but there’s nothing else for it.”
“Why don’t you just get rid of it altogether?” asked William as the man unlocked a door and led him down yet another corridor.
“It’s only concrete underneath. Not exactly classy is it, concrete?”
“Not the carpet the...” William struggled for an adequate word. “The... Thing. On the roof.”
“What, Albert!” The man chuckled and William’s mind tried and failed to attach the name Albert to what he had seen. “Couldn’t do that, my word no! We’d none of us be here without old Albert!”
The man stopped in front of an open elevator and gestured for William to step inside. The walls and roof and floor of the elevator were a smooth grey colour and William couldn’t see any buttons. The man waited
for the doors to shut and then placed one small hand on the wall. The surface beneath his hand glowed softly, and then the elevator began to glide upwards. It was suspiciously devoid of elevator music.
With the hand that was not on his hip, the man dug around inside his trouser pocket. He pulled something out and swallowed it.
“For my hip,” he said, even though William had been too polite to ask. “It gives me no end of trouble.”
“I’m, uh, sorry to hear that,” said William. He stroked the wall of the elevator with one finger. It felt hard but not hard, like an LCD screen. “So, do you get many people here looking for jobs?”
The elevator halted and the doors opened to another red carpeted hallway.
“Oh my, you’d be surprised,” replied the man. “Boys your age mostly, wearing trench coats and black shades and calling themselves crazy things like ‘Sepheroth.’ You can be assured their mothers didn’t give names them that! And speaking of names, what’s yours my boy?”
It took William a moment to register that he’d been asked a question. “William. William Black. Does everyone who comes looking get a job?”
“William.” The man nodded to himself, and then answered the question. “Of course not! Most of them vomit and run at the first site of Albert! But a few, only a few mind you, faint dead away.” William felt his cheeks turn red at the reminder of his earlier lapse in consciousness. “Oh ho, don’t feel bad about it now lad, fainting is a good sign! I fainted my first time too!”
He chuckled at this apparently fond memory, and then stopped suddenly in front a large painting, (a landscape of dense bushland, towering gum trees filled the canvas). He pushed on the frame and it swung out to reveal a hidden doorway. The man unlocked it and ushered William through. William thought they might have finally reached their destination, but somehow he wasn’t too surprised to see more red carpet corridors. Whoever Grey Corp’s interior decorator was, they lacked imagination.
“You surely know that Grey Corp enjoys a unique position of power in the City?”
William nodded. Magic wasn’t the right word, but only because magic made you think of faeries and whimsy and robes and whatever. The things Grey Corp could do were dark and mysterious, and ensured the City was theirs to do with as they pleased.
“Well we can thank Albert for that. If there’s any scrap of potential inside of you just the sight of him wakes it up. Makes you faint, you see. So it’s a good thing you fainted! And you did remarkably well in the testing room, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Boss comes to interview you himself.”
“The room I was in was test?”
“Of course.”
William felt very confused, and he suspected it was a feeling he was going to be getting used to. “How can you say I did well? I did nothing at all.”
“Exactly!” The man grinned at him. “You’ve a strong mind lad!” He stopped in front of a large wooden door and pulled another key out of his pocket.
“Huh?”
The man opened the door and unceremoniously thrust William inside. “No time left for chatting!”
He shut the door behind William, leaving him standing alone inside of the average sized room. The carpet, shockingly, was red. The walls were decorated by a scatter of historic looking photos in neat frames, with little plaques set underneath.
Having scoped out the walls and the floor there was only one angle left to check. He took a moment to brace himself and then looked up. The ceiling was white and normal. William doubted that he would ever be able to look roof ward without hesitation again. At least, not while he was inside the Grey building.
The room also housed the first pieces of furniture William had seen so far. A small wooden table with two comfortable chairs on one side, and a slightly less comfortable one on the other.
William had watched enough TV in his life to know that this set up meant he was about to be interviewed. Or possibly interrogated. Probably both. Manners dictated that he stand and wait for whoever the two nicer chairs were intended for, but William figured that if they were going to forgive him for fainting all over their entrance room, they’d forgive him if he sat down. And so he did.
Chapter 5.
The minute hand on Williams trusty watch had moved slowly from the one to the nine in a manner that suggested it was doing so under great sufferance, with much stopping and jerking backwards. William, who was used to the workings of his timepiece, estimated that he’d been alone in the room for an hour or so, and the thought that maybe this was another test of some kind had began to enter his mind. If he’d known exactly what the first test had been and how he’d managed to pass is, maybe he’d be feeling more confident.
He wished something would happen one way or the other. He’d already inspected all the photos that lined the walls. His butt had been in the uncomfortable chair barely five minutes before he’d gotten back up to look at them. They reminded him of the pictures in his history textbook, full of sepia tones and weird haircuts. Most were just old pictures of the city. It was weird to see the river without the sky scrapers on the northern bank. There was also a photo of the black doors with two men and a woman standing in front. ‘Nathaniel Grey, Morris Barten and Sarah Bunch, Opening Day, January, 1901,’ said the plaque. The guys were wearing suits and they had funny moustaches, the woman’s hair and collar were high. One of the guys also featured in another photo. He was leaning against a tree, hand resting on a long and awkward gun. ‘Nathaniel Grey, 1898.’
But there was really only a very limited amount of amusement that could be offered by old photos. And so it wasn’t long before William was back in the chair, oscillating between fear and boredom. He’d successfully avoiding dwelling on it so far, but he knew there was a chance he’d never see the light of day again. Grey Corp made people disappear all the time, and it’s not like anyone would particularly miss William at all.
When the doors finally did open William started so violently he smacked his knees on the underside of the table. He would have jumped to his feet, but the sight of the two men that walked in startled him and by the time he regained his senses they had already crossed to the table and sat down. They appeared about fifty years old, and they were completely identical. Like, completely. Their black suits and accessories matched down to the smallest details. The patterns on their pocket handkerchiefs was even the same. And it wasn’t just their attire; physically they were perfect copies of one another.
William figured they must be identical twins, but didn’t twins stop dressing alike when they hit puberty? Wait, there was one way in which they weren’t perfectly matched. One of the men wore a gold wedding band. William wondered if his wife could tell them apart.
The man with no wedding band leaned forward slightly. “Mr. Black. Hello.” He had a slow, overly controlled way of speaking. His vowels were just a touch too enunciated. Like he was British or just wished he was.
“Um,” said William. “Hi.”
“My name is Mr. Grey. I am the boss of this little family.”
The second man, with the wedding band, made no move to introduce himself.
“It’s good to meet you,” said William. He tried not to sound too nervous. His foot was furiously tapping and with a concerted effort he stopped it.
“So,” said Mr. Grey, “I am to take it you would like to join us here at Grey Corp.”
William cleared his throat. “Yes. Very much.”
He nodded. “Are you aware of what a job with Grey Corp entails?”
“Not really, because no one ever questions Grey Corp. I’d like to be a part of that.”
The man who had not yet spoken gave a small smile, but his brother was as stony faced as ever as he replied. “Indeed.” They regarded him silently for a while, until William began to squirm.
And then the other brother spoke. “He looks young.”
“I’m eighteen,” William said. “Today’s my birthday. I have my birth certificate, if you need to see it?
”
Idiot. Because Grey Corp murdered and stole with abandon but quaked in the face of labour laws.
Wedding band man raised an eyebrow. His brother waved a hand and said, “that won’t be necessary Mr. Black. I am sure you would not try to deceive us, would you?”
“No!” William sat up straight. “Definitely not.”
“Because I trust you know what happens to people who deceive us.”
William nodded. He’d lived in the city all his life. Yeah he knew what happened to people who deceived Grey Corp, or rather he didn't exactly, because you didn't see much more of people who messed with Grey Corp.
“And what of your parents, Mr. Black? Do they know you are here?”
“They’re dead,” said William, “well, I mean, my Mum is. I don’t know who my dad is so he might not be dead but, you know, it doesn’t matter. He might as well be.”
“And how did your mother die, Mr. Black? Was it painful?”
William blinked. “Yes,” he said, “it was.”
Wedding band shifted in his chair, so as to view William from a different angle. Like he was a painting or something.
“You did not say ‘what,’ in response to my question, Mr. Black,” said Mr. Grey.
It wasn’t even a little bit wise, but William could feel himself growing annoyed at the two men. “Why would I? I heard what you said.”
“Ha!” Wedding band said the word, as opposed to actually laughing, “I think young Mr. Black is getting annoyed with you.”
William decided not point out that he was getting annoying with both them, actually.
“Most people would say ‘what?’, when asked such an inappropriate question.”
William slouched down in his chair. “If you say so.”
Wedding band grinned and Mr. Grey said, “I do say so.”
William decided that he did not like these two men much at all. But no one ever liked their bosses, right? Criminal overlord bosses were probably worse than normal ones too. Was there a criminal minion union?