A slight wind had come up, and the once-lazy snowflakes were now being driven into Charles’s face. Before taking the picture, he dusted the snow off the pipes, then sighed through the viewfinder. He wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to get the T-connector and the storage tanks in the same photo, so he stepped over the pipes, squatted down, and sighted again. Satisfied, he depressed the shutter mechanism but nothing happened. Looking at the camera, he realized he hadn’t turned the flash bar around. He did so quickly, then sighed again. Now he could see the storage tank, the pipe coming from the tank, and the juncture with the roof drain. It was perfect. He pushed the shutter release.
The flash of the camera was followed instantly by a sudden, powerful jerk as the Polaroid camera was torn from Charles’s fingers. He looked up from his crouching position to see three men in hooded parkas, silhouetted against the dark sky. They had him cornered against the storage tanks. Before Charles could move, the camera was tossed end over end into the center of the black lagoon.
Charles stood up, struggling to see the faces beneath the hoods. Without words, the two smaller men lunged forward and grabbed his arms. The sudden movement caught Charles off guard and he didn’t struggle. The third man, the big one, went through Charles’s coat pockets, finding the small collection of photographs. With a flick of the wrist they followed the camera into the chemical pond, appearing like white wafers on the surface.
The men let Charles go and stepped back. Charles still couldn’t see their faces, and it made their appearance that much more frightening. Charles panicked and tried to run between one of the smaller men and the storage tank. The man reacted instantly, jabbing a fist into Charles’s face and connecting with his nose. The blow stunned Charles, bringing a slight trickle of blood down his chin.
“Nice poke, Brezo,” laughed Wally.
Charles recognized the voice.
The men pushed him toward the chemical lagoon so that he stumbled over the pipes underfoot. Teasing him, they cuffed his head with open hands, slapping his ears. Charles vainly tried to parry the flutter of blows.
“Trespassing, eh?” said Brezo.
“Looking for trouble, eh?” said Angelo.
“I think he found it,” said Wally.
They crowded Charles to the very edge of the cesspool of acrid chemicals. A glancing blow knocked his hat into the fluid.
“How about a quick dip?” taunted Wally.
With one arm over his face, Charles drew out his flashlight with the other hand and lashed at his nearest assailant.
Brezo eluded the roundhouse blow easily by shifting his weight.
Expecting contact and not getting it, Charles slipped in the melted snow and fell to his hands and knees in the foul mud. The flashlight shattered.
Brezo, having eluded the blow, found himself teetering on the edge of the lagoon. To keep from falling bodily into the pool, he was forced into the ooze to mid-calf before Wally grabbed his jacket, pulling him free.
“Shit!” cried Brezo as he felt the corrosive chemical singe his skin. He knew he had to get his leg into water as soon as possible. Angelo pulled Brezo’s arm over his shoulder, supporting him and, as if in a three-legged race, the two men hurried back toward the entrance of Recycle, Ltd.
Charles scrambled to his feet and bolted for the two planks over the old sluice. Wally made a grab for Charles but missed him, and in the process slipped and fell to his hands and knees. Belying his bulk, he was back on his feet in an instant. Charles thundered over the planks forgetting his previous nervousness at crossing. He thought about pushing the planks into the sluice but Wally was too close behind.
Fearful of being thrown into the chemical lagoon, Charles ran as fast as possible, but the going was difficult. First he had to climb through the discarded machinery, then run across the snow-covered, littered lot until he got to the hurricane fence. Wally was hindered by the same objects but, used to working out, he made better time.
Charles started up the fence but unfortunately he’d picked a spot between two uprights. The lack of support, particularly near the top, made the climbing more difficult.
Wally Crabb reached the fence and began shaking it violently. Charles had all he could do to hold on, much less continue climbing. Then Wally reached up and grabbed Charles’s right foot. Charles tried to kick free but Wally had a good hold and he merely put his weight on it.
The force overrode Charles’s grasp, and he tumbled off the fence, directly on top of Wally. Desperately Charles searched beneath the snow for some object with which he could defend himself. He came up with an old shoe. He flung it at Wally, and although it missed its mark, it gave Charles a chance to stand and flee along the fence toward the river. For Charles, the situation was like being inside a cage with a raging animal.
Running in the snow along the fence was next to impossible. The crust sometimes supported Charles’s weight, other times it didn’t, and there was no way to tell before taking a step. Under the snow was a wide assortment of debris ranging from fresh garbage to wayward rubber tires and metal scrap that kept trapping him. Fearful he was going to be caught any moment, Charles glanced over his shoulder. One look was enough to ascertain that the obstacle course was equally difficult for Wally and Charles reached the river bank first.
His descent to the water was a marginally controlled fall. With his hands out at his sides like outriggers on a canoe, Charles slipped and slid down the embankment, coming to a jarring halt where the ice had buckled at the river’s edge. Avoiding the patch of open water, Charles scrambled out onto the ice, and tried to keep his balance. Wally came down the embankment with a bit more care and consequently lost some ground. Charles was around the portion of the fence that extended out from shore and starting back up the embankment when Wally reached the river’s edge.
Almost at the top of the embankment, Charles’s feet suddenly slid out from under him. Panic-stricken, his hands grasped for a hold. At the last second he caught a small bush and halted his backward movement. He tried to scramble back up but could not get any traction. Wally had already gained the shore and started up toward Charles, closing the short distance between them.
Wally reached up to grab Charles’s leg. He was inches away when he seemed to switch to slow motion. His legs stiffened but it was no use. Slowly at first, then rapidly, he slid backwards.
With renewed effort, Charles tried to climb the last five feet. By jamming his toes against the embankment he discovered he could create crude footholds. In this way, he inched upwards and threw his upper body over the edge. He pulled his feet up, then raised himself on his hands and knees. In so doing, he felt rocks and pieces of brick under the snow. He kicked them loose and picked up a handful. Wally had begun a new assault on the embankment and at that moment was only five feet away.
Cocking his arm back, Charles threw the stones. One hit Wally on the point of the shoulder and he grunted in pain. He grabbed the area with his opposite hand only to slip back down the embankment. Quickly Charles kicked loose additional stones and threw them down at Wally, who put his arms over his head and retreated out onto the ice.
Charles fled back toward the row of deserted mill buildings, intending to run around the end of the first building and get to the Pinto, which was parked a hundred yards back. But as he started in that direction, he saw several flashlights coming around the opposite end of the hurricane fence. They swung in his direction, momentarily blinding him, and he knew he’d been spotted. He had no choice. He ran directly for the empty building.
Dashing through a doorless opening Charles was quickly engulfed by impenetrable darkness. With his arms swinging in exploratory arcs he inched forward, encountering a wall. As if in a maze, he stumbled along the wall until he came to a door. Bending down and searching the floor, he found some rubble, which he tossed through the opening. It hit yet another wall and fell back to the floor. Without letting go of the doorjamb, Charles reached out in the darkness. His fingertips touched the wall that he’d hit with the rubble. He let go of the doorframe and walked along this new wall.