“This is ridiculous, Cal. There’s nothing here!”

We each had a flashlight. I flashed mine forward into the pitch-dark courtyard leading to unit number four, Cain’s building. My footfalls echoed around our ears. Behind me, Blout’s breath was heavy and labored.

“I have to make sure. I got a feeling something’s here. Something that can help us,” I said, and started walking away from Blout. “I’m going in. You can stay here if you want.”

Blout didn’t need to think it over. “Just wait up, goddammit.”

The flashlight did little to light our path once we were inside the building. The darkness had a texture like smoky tar that seemed to fight the light, only allowing it to penetrate a few yards ahead of us. I was looking for the staircase.

“This is crazy. Why don’t we come back during the day?” Blout whined behind me.

My light landed on an exit sign above a red steel door. “Because you can find things at night that aren’t there during the day.”

“Listen to yourself, McDonald. You’re nuts!”

I ignored him. Some people need to whine when they’re frightened. I know I do. “This way,” I said, guiding him to the red door as I gave it a shove.

Inside the stairwell a gust of rotten air greeted us. An echo gave voluminous dimension to the corkscrew tower as we stepped inside. The door creaked shut slowly and closed with a small but definitive click. Blout swallowed. Like it or not, we were in.

“Which way?” he asked.

“Up,” I said. “Cain’s apartment. Top floor.”

I took the first step. Then, above us, we heard a door slamming.

I jumped back. Blout threw himself against the exit door.

“W . . . what the fuck was that? Wind?” Blout hissed. I could hear the dry crack of his throat.

“Probably not. Come on.”

Hearts pounding, we went up the first flight, then the second and third. By the fifth floor we were both calm.

Bang!

This time it came from below us. My eyes had adjusted somewhat and I could see that Blout was covered with sweat.

“You okay?” I whispered.

“No,” Blout croaked. “You realize that in high rises like this, it isn’t really the fourteenth floor. It’s the thirteenth.”

“Yes, I thought of that.”

“Does that figure into your case?”

“Everything does.” We had reached the eleventh floor. I stopped and pulled a flask out of my jacket, took two short swigs, and offered it to Blout.

He grabbed it, took one mini-swig, washed it around in his mouth, and spit it out. “Christ, what is that crap?!”

“You heard of ‘premium’? That’s ‘sale.’” I took one more drink and then pushed on.

Cain’s floor was as I’d left it years before—completely destroyed. The walls and ceiling were ripped away. Plaster and tile littered the place, forming piles of dusty white. At the far end of the hall I could feel a breeze coming through the hole we’d made when we went airborne. I could see the shattered wall and the dark blue, star-flecked sky that filled the vacant space.