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Show Night Keys/12 The dogs were a problem. He had never stayed inside the plant long enough to get a fix on them. Everywhere he heard barking. The way sound slipped through vents and skipped over partitions and down halls he could not tell where or how close or how many. He decided to skip the south end and the keys among the fleet of dusty hulls which were wedged onto V-dollies and skewed around in every direction, because a pack of dogs could come from any direction, with no place for him to go, unless climb into one of the hulls. Then he would really be stuck. You could miss a few keys once. He had skipped the key inside the guardhouse twice already. Twice was questionable. More than twice and his ass was grass with the company. Dear Genie. I got some thinking to do. He started up a lighted fork lift lane and realized he had never seen this part of the plant before. Row on row of hulls hung from chains, bows pointed up like gothic arches on either side and far down into the gloom. It was only the stacks. It was a trick of the eye. Always coming the other way before the boats looked different. Which meant he could cut through to testing. The new path disoriented him and he almost stepped off the high end, the black water of the testing pool somewhere below, only the slight drop of temperature and the cavernous hush to tell him where it was until he saw a fine gray veil of light which seemed to rock with the pulse in his temples. No way to read his pencilled pocket maps. He heard a scampering. Saw nothing. In the corridor on the other side the light was better and it was a simple matter. Go either way and cut over as soon as he could. Genie, Genie. Please get in touch. |
