The noise, arriving at regular intervals, drew me through the night like a beacon. It grew louder as I neared the outskirts of town, passing by occasional rickety cabins that had gone to seed when the cannery started busing in workers and the local economy collapsed. It grew louder yet as I came up behind the factory, threading through mud-caked backhoe undercutters and construction rigs parked in clearings among the trees.

Thump. Squelch.

An industrial wasteland nestled in a dip in the landscape, the Lawrenceville Cannery stood out from the surrounding trees even in the darkness, a vast cleared patch of shadow.

Moving from tree to tree, I crept into position above the little valley.

The sounds kept coming, but I could see nothing below.

Thump. Squelch.

Thump. Squelch.

Curiosity burned in me, but fear burned brighter. Whatever those noises were, they weren’t good.

The darkness lifted just enough for me to see the rough shapes of the buildings below. I sensed movement around the facility but couldn’t make out more than that. Dawn threatened at the eastern horizon, the black sky beginning to show blue.

Thump. Squelch.

I could make out only the shapes closest to me. The storage warehouse just below my perch. Beside it a yellow bulldozer bled through the gloom, parked by a roof-high pile of gravel. Rolls of fencing were stacked like Lincoln Logs. Rectangles of sheet metal rose at irregular intervals across the hillside. Construction must have been under way when the Dusting had hit.

Thump. Squelch.

The sky lightened another degree, the parking lot showing just barely through the haze. I sensed movement on it. Hosts on patrol?

Thump. Squelch.

The noise seemed to be coming from the factory itself. The giant building emerged slowly, like a mighty ship from the fog. The huge doors had been rolled back, venting heat from the factory floor. I could sense a bustle of activity inside, but what it was, I couldn’t say. I strained my eyes, trying to see what was going on in there.

Thump. Squelch.

The top of the sun finally broke the horizon, a pinprick of glowing yellow.

I saw through the open doors.

I really wish I hadn’t.

Entry 35

ENTRY 35

The Hosts moved in synchronicity, each bent to his or her task. Watching them work was like observing the insides of an intricate cuckoo clock. It might have been fascinating if what they were doing weren’t so gruesome.