31
NOBODY SAID IT WAS GOING TO BE EASY
When I discovered the satellite footage or video or whatever it was that had zoomed in to that back alley on my laptop screen, it was just after six in the morning.
I called Chloe, but she didn’t answer, her phone most likely on her nightstand, on silent.
I was on my own.
I stepped out of my building into a light rain. The sky was monochromatic, a layer of dark, gloomy gray covered the city from the horizon to the Space Needle. I zipped up my hoodie and hurried across the street into the waiting Uber.
We drove in silence through the city toward the Pike Place Market, the rhythmic clunking of the wipers and the wet glimmer of lights reflected in the streets hypnotic and comforting.
When we were a block or so away from the alley, I asked the driver to pull over and I hopped out of the car.
I double-checked the exact location on my phone, and then started walking.
I didn’t notice the rain at all as I hurried between the towering buildings toward whatever was waiting for me at that spot on the map.
I was close.
The camera had zoomed in to the middle of the alley between Western and First. This area would soon be filled with the hum and bustle of the waking city, but at that moment it was peaceful and still. I could hear the distant cries of seagulls waking in anticipation of another day spent scavenging around the waterfront.
I stepped off the street and into the alley. This was it.
I took a deep breath and readied myself. If there was something waiting in there, I really hoped that something wasn’t a murderous back-alley-dwelling human.
I walked past the rusted fire escapes and barred windows looking for anything related to that hidden screen in Zompocalypso, anything that might be connected to Rabbits.
But there was nothing.
No pattern hidden in the wet gray-brown cobblestones, no clues in the number of rungs that made up each of the fire escape ladders, no hidden messages in the graffiti spray-painted on the brick walls and dumpsters that lined the alley.
Had I been wrong about the extra constellation?
I was just about to leave when I heard a deep, low scratching sound coming from one of the nearby dumpsters.
I wrapped my hand around my key ring and arranged it so a couple of the keys slid in between my fingers—as if that was going to help me fight off whatever Seattle night terror was waiting behind the dumpster. I shook my head, let go of my keys, and walked slowly and carefully toward the dark green metal container, ready to run for my life if a person （or something worse） suddenly stepped out.
I was about three feet away when a large rat scuttled out from around the bin.
I jumped backward and almost fell over.
I wasn’t afraid of rats—Seattle had more than its share of them—but echoes of the strange otherworldly feeling I’d experienced when I woke up remained with me, and no matter how excited I was about following the potential clue I’d uncovered, I was still walking through a long dark alley alone in the rain.
I took a deep breath and pulled the wet dumpster away from the brick wall.
There was nothing there except for another rat.
This one was even bigger than the first. She was lying on her side on a pile of wet newspapers feeding a handful of little pink babies.
I carefully pushed the dumpster back into place and was about to switch my focus to potential connections between the businesses and addresses that made up the streets on either side of the alley, when I noticed another dumpster directly across from the one providing shelter for the brand-new family of rats. The last thing I wanted to do was disturb another rodent family feeding, but I’d come all this way. I knew that if I didn’t check everything it would gnaw at me, and I’d have to come back again later.
I took a deep breath, readied myself for any and all types of rat contact, and pulled.
One of the dumpster’s casters was missing, which resulted in a deep reverb-y scraping howl as I dragged the large, wet metal box away from the wall.
There were no rats.
But there was something.
The wall behind the dumpster was covered in a mess of numbers, letters, and symbols, all surrounding something familiar.
The circle atop the triangle.
The layout and style of the art were similar to that hidden screen from Zompocalypso. Seeing it here in this context felt like a glimpse into a secret world. My breath quickened and I could suddenly hear my heart beating in my ears.
“What do you think?”
I’m not sure whether I heard her voice before or after I’d taken out my phone and started taking pictures.
I turned around to face the speaker.