The glass doors opened on a yawning space thatwould eventually be the main lobby. Right now it was a cavern of concrete and steel. Support columns jutted up into the gloom. The floor was half-covered in paper and plastic sheeting. Framed walls cut angles into open air, outlines of future rooms.
Light came from a mix of temporary work lamps and the few installed fixtures that had power. It made everything look grainy and unfinished, strong shadows between hard edges.
Our footsteps echoed.
We fanned out, staying in each other’s peripheral vision. Jersey and I moved center, straight up the main line from the doors. Snake Eyes and Spade drifted right, hugging the wall. Turnpike and Priest went left after watching the open second level above us until we were under it, guns sweeping.
“Clear left,” Spade murmured.
“Clear right,” Priest echoed.
“Feels like a horror movie,” Turnpike added under his breath.
“Shut up,” Priest said.
The front desk area was just a long, bare concrete island with wiring hanging out where polished stone and smiling staff would eventually be. Behind it, a doorway led into what would be a back office. Papers littered the half-finished counter. A hard hat lay on the floor, cracked down one side like somebody had stepped on it.
I moved toward it, gun still up, and nudged it with the toe of my boot.
Dark flecks spotted the inside rim.
Blood.
“Got red,” I said. “Small. Old enough to be tacky, not old enough to be brown. No body.”
“Cameras?” Jersey asked.
“Lobby cam’s still down,” Miami replied. “Stairwell cam ahead of you is out too. I got nothing.”
“You’re sure?” I pressed.
“Wish I could be more useful,” he replied.
We crossed the lobby toward the bank of elevators and the stairwell access which were inside a service corridor that went both ways. The main elevator doors were installed but still covered in plastic. One had a smeared handprint in dust near the edge, like someone had leaned too hard on it.
The stairwell door was propped open with a paint can.
Inside, concrete steps spiraled up around a central shaft. Work lights ran along the wall every few landings.
“Up or sweep this floor first?” Snake Eyes asked.
“Quick sweep,” Jersey said. “We don’t go climbing until we know we’re not leaving something behind us.”
We moved through the ground level in a pattern of slices—small halls, service elevators, future offices, mechanical rooms humming softly. Every time we passed a window, the boardwalk lights flashed by in fragmented glimpses, the worldoutside was still turning.
We found more signs of an interruption.
A spilled box of screws near a maintenance closet. A clipboard on the floor with a footprint stamped across the paperwork. A security radio lying in a corner, casing cracked, battery half-out.
But no people.
“It feels like everybody just…evaporated,” Priest murmured.
We regrouped near the stairwell.
“Up,” Jersey said.
So, we climbed.
