I swept the beam of my flashlight over the ground as I walked. Dead leaves and crackling branches whispered in the wind. Weeds pushed up through huge cracks in the cement. My boots crunched over fragments of glass. My neck prickled.

The warehouse itself was two stories tall, the ancient wood rotting from the constant humidity. A crumbling brick smokestack jutted into the sky at the far end of the building, the outline a moody and sinister shadow against the sky. The gaping holes of broken windows were like screaming black mouths.

I approached the front door, careful to avoid splintered wood pierced with rusty nails. It was locked, a bicycle padlock coiled around the handle. I moved around the side of the building, pushing past a cluster of overgrown bushes. A spiderweb clawed at my face, and I felt the tiny feet of a spider tapping on my cheek. I stifled a scream and swiped at it. It fell to the ground, illuminated in the yellow glow of my flashlight. It tried to scuttle away but I squished it with my boot, my pulse throbbing in my ears.

I stood for a moment, rigid as the stark winter trees surrounding me. Every one of my senses was screaming at me to get the hell out of here. But I was here for Josh. Nothing could get in the way of that.

I elbowed my way through the rest of the brush and moved to the rear of the building, where there was a little clearing, muddy grass rolling down to the rushing river, the waterfall churning beyond.

The back door was propped open with a large rock. Inside, the skeletons of rusted factory equipment were pushed against corrugated walls. Decaying steel beams stretched high overhead. Water dripped rhythmically down the walls. The air was thick with damp, the pungent smell of mold on rotting wood.

A lantern sat on a table under the stairs, casting a warm, buttery glow onto the floor. It took me a minute to make out Gabe sitting at a table tucked neatly beneath the stairs. He was with a woman. Her head was bent over the table; she was snorting a line of something. Cocaine? She sniffed and threw her head back, pinching her nose.

“Gabe,” I whispered.

“Emma!” Gabe hurried to me, as the woman tucked a small baggie back into a briefcase on the table. “You’re late.” He motioned for me to sit in one of the dilapidated chairs and turned to the other woman. “See, I told you she’d be here.”

“Sorry, Josh woke up.” My voice sounded breathless from the nerves writhing in my stomach.