“Nope.” The Schwa was as serious as I’d ever seen him. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

The bus made only three intersections in twenty minutes, riding beneath the girders that held up the expressway. Frustrated drivers leaned on their horns, like the gridlock was the fault of the person in front of them.

The Schwa stood up and looked out of the window. “C’mon, we’ll walk.”

“Are you kidding me? The people around here look like extras from Night of the Living Dead—and those are just the people on the bus!” Across the aisle, a living-dead guy gave me a dirty look.

“If you’re worried,” the Schwa said, “hide behind me. They won’t notice you if you’re behind me.”

It was half past four in the afternoon when we got off the bus. It was already getting dark, and I was quaking at the thought of having to wait for a bus back from this rank corner of the world. I hoped the street ahead stayed crowded with cars so at least our bodies would be recovered quickly.

We walked for four blocks underneath the Gowanus Expressway, passing identical warehouses, all of which had been condemned by the city, with big signs, like it was something the city was proud of. Then the Schwa went to one of the warehouse entrances and pushed open a door that almost snapped off its rusted hinges.

“In there?” I asked. “What’s in there?”

“You’ll see.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Not for much longer.”

I stepped in, against my survival instinct. The building was no warmer than the street outside, and it smelled like something died in there from smelling something else that died in there. That mixed with some weird solvent fumes made me gag. I heard the scurry of rats, which I hoped were cats, and the flutter of bats, which I hoped were pigeons. I was just glad it was too dark to tell. The Schwa pressed a tiny flashlight on his key chain and led me up a staircase littered with wood chips and broken glass.

“The elevator doesn’t work,” the Schwa said. “And even if it did, I wouldn’t trust it.”

I tried to imagine what he could possibly be up to here, and none of it was good. I just let him lead me, hoping that I would eventually understand.

He pushed open the seventh-floor door to reveal a huge concrete expanse with nothing breaking up the space except peeling pillars holding up the ceiling above. The rot-and-solvent smell was gone, but the mustiness of the place caught in the back of my throat, making my mouth taste bitter, like juice after toothpaste.

The Schwa walked around the huge place, his arms spread wide like it was something to show off. “So what do you think?”