AJ slows his pace, hesitant to interrupt Lu as she tosses crusts to a pair of pigeons. When he crunches gravel, she doesn’t look up, just asks, “Why you back?”
Wanted to see this hellhole one more time.” He takes a few steps toward her. “And you, Lu.”
She stiffens. “Been a long time.”
He says nothing, just takes it in —the graffitied, abandoned slaughterhouse where both their dads worked. Bulldozers, dump trucks, cranes, concrete crushers waiting til dawn when the demo officially starts. And Lu, his best-friend-first-girlfriend, until AJ’s family followed his dad’s job south, and Lu’s father stayed behind to soak in bitterness and beer.
AJ scans the perimeter. Pushes over a cement block. Steps on it. Heaves himself over the chain-link fence. Holds out his hand, hoping she’ll follow.
She hesitates, glancing at the pigeons humming evening coos. Then she hops onto the block and pulls herself up. “Ow!” Drops back down, rubbing her hands. “Can’t do it, AJ.”
“Lemme help.” He tugs off his sweatshirt, folds it over the jagged fence top. “Try again.” This time, she pulls herself over. AJ catches her, holding her until she pushes him back, mumbling, “I hate you” into his chest.
He grins. “No you don’t. C’mon. Let’s go inside.”
Her eyes widen. “There are cameras everywhere. Signs saying no trespassing.”
Shrugging, AJ pulls on his sweatshirt while moving toward the building. “It’ll be trashed tomorrow. Who gives a crap?”
She considers, then follows, stepping on broken glass, weeds, cracked cement. “How’d you hear about the demo?”
“Online. I took a train up.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Wanted to surprise.” AJ pulls at a door, but it doesn’t budge, so he starts toward the back entrance, where trucks delivered doomed livestock.
Lu pants, jogging to keep up with AJ’s long strides. Grabs his hoodie.
AJ gags. “Choking me!” he coughs out.
“You shoulda called!” Hands on hips, blinking back tears.
“Didn’t know what to say, Lu.”
She deflates. “Forget it. C’mon.” Now he’s following her to a side door marked with faded letters: “Employees Only.” Door’s locked. She unzips her wallet, slides a credit card in-up-down, clicks open.
Mildewy-rancid-urine odors push them back outside. They yelp, sucking in fresh air, pulling shirts over their noses, flicking on phone flashlights, stepping back in. “What if we find money?” AJ whispers. “Like a drawer full of cash? What’d you do with it?”
“Not gonna happen with my luck,” Lu mutters, their lights scanning the break room: overturned chairs, rusty sink, cracked vending machines, partially-chewed snack bags at the bottom. A rectangular lunch table fully intact, dust thick as frosting.
“If I find a pile of cash, I’ll take you on a trip. Disney or —”
Lu’s light lands on black, shiny eyes. Bears, bunnies, dogs — stuffing spilling out of moldy, stained bodies. “What-the-hell?” she gasps.
AJ kicks a soiled Snoopy missing an ear. It skids to a decaying box with a torn label that says Toys for. He nudges the box. “A freakin’ toy collection! Look: Rubrik’s cubes, Mr. Potato Heads, Matchbox cars — all trashed ‘n rotting.”
“Why? Why’d they get left?” Lu’s voice shakes.
AJ fake-pukes. “Didn’t deliver the holiday toy collection bin before shutting down. No damn heart.”
Rustling noises, low screeches interrupt them. AJ and Lu grab each other’s hands like Hansel and Gretel in the witch’s kitchen. No breadcrumbs, though, just rodent droppings.
“Helllllooooooo!” AJ shouts.
Silence.
Lu locks eyes with Minnie Mouse, polka-dot dress ripped, pink bow dangling, white stuffing oozing from her nose like snot. “I had a Minnie just like this. Some kid woulda loved it.”
“C’mon Lu.”
She pauses, then pulls open the door leading toward the slaughterhouse, holding it for AJ. “You think they cleaned up or —”
AJ takes a step, then jerks back, swiping a cobweb. “Lu! It’s all over me!”
She slams the door, holding up her phone’s light in one hand, combing through AJ’s hair with her other. The sticky silk clings to hair, fingers, sleeves. Like cotton candy on a hot day, they can’t shake it off. Or memories of the slaughterhouse, skinned torsos dripping, stained cleavers, bloody splatters —
“Let’s get outta here,” she sputters.
“You sure?” AJ grabs her arm. “Last chance.”
“I can’t —. What if there’s real animal bodies inside? And maggots? Dried blood? Skeletons? I-can’t-I-can’t-I-”
“Okay. It’s okay, Lu.” AJ squeezes her hand. “We don’t have to.” They retreat through the employee entrance, welcoming the dark chill. AJ pulls Lu in. “Where’s your pigeon friends?” he asks.
“It’s late. Probably asleep. God. I’m still shaking!”
“Hey! Whatsamatter?”
Lu leans on the chain link fence, face salty wet, murmuring, “Why’d they leave Minnie to rot?”
Image: the inside of a derelict factory from Pixabay.com
literally stories 
The very fact that this is set in such an establishment introduces the feeling of drama and threat and then the box of toys takes it to a different place. The characters are well drawn and I wanted to know their background and what had passed between them. All in all this was an engrossing read and when you take into account that it was a short time in an abandoned building that it darned good writing for it to be so gripping and then the final poignant sentence is masterful. Thank you – dd
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Hi Liz,
You touched on something here, the sad thing is there are countless amounts of work-places just like this!!
Well perceived!!!
Hugh
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Liz
I worked at a similar hellhole when I was young. A few years later I read that it was razed and almost felt sad, but I caught myself.
Old warehouses are stunningly frightening, as though set aside from reality. Placing young lively people into such a scenario is highly effective.
Leila
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