Los as is one big liminal space

  Lindsey found the stash car in ay parking lot, o a half-built hotel at the edge of a mound of retail space. Strips of luxury shops aaurants that served eighty-dolr eo Rolex men and Gucen fhe lot like prison walls. Laughter echoed oel’s bare sheetrock as a smiling group left the sushi pce. She would have felt like an outsider even without all the onry.

  She pulled back the carpet irunk and opened a reinforced partment where the spare should be. There was a rge luggage bag that felt like it was half full of solid steel. She loaded her ons into the side poud wheeled it carefully to the trunk of her car. Her headset beeped as Michael answered her call request.

  “I’ve got it. About to head that way,” she said.

  “Take the tunnels under his office.”

  “You think he’ll head down there?”

  “I’m almost certain that’s where the door is.”

  “Should I try and find it?”

  “No, they’ll be on guard for that. And be on the lookout. Their is probably down there.”

  Michael’s tone was almost fearful. Liold herself that it had nothing to do with her. The failure at the restaurant had set him on edge. She let her wounded pride fre up and die down before she answered.

  “All right then, I’ll set up. Anything else?”

  “If they find you, blow the stairwell ahe hell out. I have a feeling we’re gonna be down a few people soon.”

  She opened EP’s folder and pulled up a map of the tunnels, pastel colors woven under a grey ttice of streets aail ters. A maze of restaurants, shops, basements, and garages. Not a good pce to be caught by surprise. Michael was right. Going for the door would be a waste of time.

  “Hey babe, what’s the entrao these tunnels?”

  “Lobby of that building to your left,” EP said.

  It was a squat t tower with dark brown windows and a parking garage built into the side. The stone sign sitting in a bed of pansies out front said “Dativasoft”.

  “Think you get me past security?”

  “Don’t o. People e in to use the tunnels all the time.”

  She parked in the first open spot, marked ‘reserved’. She wouldn’t be needing the car again anyway. If they were moving to the door, the fight would be all or nothing. She got her things out of the trunk and walked across the lot. Somewhere a helicopter was chopping up the afternoon air.

  ~

  The basement was a ft box of stained crete floors, bare pilrs, and brick walls fking off the multi-toned paint of four decades. Rough fluorest lighting flickered o the occasional foam ceiling tiles and wide areas of darkness packed with pipes, wires, and beams. Everything ushed off to the sides. Desks topped with overturned chairs, pyramids of old file boxes, fotten mail carts, and one sad refrigerator. In the back wall, a door stuck out of its dusty worn surroundings. Dull grey steel, rivets the size of half dolrs, and a slit window of gss thick as a telephone book.

  Behind the door was an old maintenance office. Two robot-still men in fold-out chairs sat fag each other in the ter of the room. Another man crouched frownio a sagging cloth sofa holding a needle and vial. An uy in a suit, his arm out of the jacket and his oxford sleeve rolled up, y on the couch like he was being painted by an old master. He watched the frowning man in front of him struggle to get the needle in the vial.

  “Hurry the fuck up.”

  “Thanks, that’ll help.”

  He finally got the dose drawn.

  “Make sure I breathe this time, jack ass.”

  He couldn’t get it in the vein fast enough. When the arm hung limp, he put the propofol ba a whining mini-fridge and picked an in-12 off the top. He sat down in the chair in the far er with the shotgun leaned against his shoulder.

  There was a long quiet while they waited. One of the guys in the ter stirred and walked over to a desk against the wall. He put his cigarette out on an inch of the exposed, water-damaged wood, and grabbed an assault rifle, then sat back down, loaded a magazih a loud snap and racked the slide. The frowning man in the far chair gred at him.

  The guy on the couch groaned and his eyes sprang open.

  “Got it.” He said to the ceiling. Frowning man pressed his ear-piece.

  “Anthony, this is bedroom.”

  “Go for Anthony.”

  “Just got a firmation.”

  “Good. The rest of you load up a us in the trol room.”

  “On our way.” He got up and the man on the couch grabbed his knee.

  “Drop me the rest of that vial. I’m getting out of here.”

  ~

  Paul leaned his head on the window and watched the ft spread of parking lots and grass wns slide below him. What would it be like to be down there, driving around, having lunch, without the feeling that life is slowly closing in on you? He couldn’t picture it. It did. That world would never be anything more to him than sery, rolling by without passion, untouchable as an old cartoon background.

  The helicopter touched down on the roof with its bdes still going. Andler pushed Paul across the pad as the uards formed up around him. There was nothing in sight but sky and a boxed door at the edge of the roof.

  Andler punched numbers on a keypad and the door came open with a metallic sound and a beep. They went dowairs and came out in the elevator lobby. A worker leaned up against the window looked up from his phone and bag of cookies. His mouth hung open and he sed the new faces for some sign of a disciplinary a ing his aul felt for him. No one was ever on this floor and it was a great pce for “time theft”. Andler pointed a gun at the guy and he almost cried.

  “Fuck off.”

  He sprio the stairwell, whimpering.

  “What the fuck, man,” Paul muttered. Aurned on him.

  “They could be anyone. Don’t hesitate with that thing!” He poio the Beretta PX4 in Paul’s hand. Paul had fotten about it. He couldn’t see himself ever using it.

  “Just think about the door,” Andler said as he called the elevator. Paul didn’t o. It felt like the door was thinking about him, broadcasting the absolute knowledge that all of this would drop away the moment he went through it. He didn’t know what was oher side, but as the world around him detached itself aed out of pce, that other world felt something like reality.

  He tried to let his thoughts fall towards it, and his mind snagged on the edge of a griiness. There was something else, something massive, that he had fotten, as if it had been cut out of his mind. The elevator closed and he realized that the revetion in the helicopter, far from being enlighte, was just another impa the way down. He was certain the one would destroy him.

  ~

  At 12:55, Martina walked up behind Gradie and scared the shit out of him.

  “Hey,”

  “Yeah?” He spun in his chair. He had been sitting on the same at for an hour.

  “Hey, hold off on leaving for a bit.”

  “Why?” His stomach tried to shoot up out of his mouth, so he ched his jaw shut.

  “There’s a police chase on the highway.” For a split sed, he thought it was him they were chasing, but logic caught up with his thoughts and the wave of relief almost knocked him out of the chair.

  “What? For real?” said someone in a cubiearby. Others looked around and popped up from behind the fabriels.

  “Yea, two cars shooting at each other with mae guns.” Said Martina.

  “Is it drugs?” someone said. “Got to be.” someone else ughed.

  “They don’t know, but I don’t think they got them yet. The highways are all blocked off.”

  More people turned around and started talking. Gradie got a strange feeling, like he had fotten something. He looked back at his puter and tried to remember what it was.

  Downtown Dals has aework of undergrourian tunnels, inally built to let workers escape the heat and cut down on foot traffic above ground. If you're ever in the area and check them out, take some pictures for me. my twitter is @edwardeidolon.

  up, Michael takes on NFG.