I smelled the junkyard before I saw it. The stench of rust, oil, and decay clung to the damp air. A bead of sweat ran down my brow; it was unnaturally humid for an autumn day. Somehow, it felt like an omen of misfortune, and unfortunately for me, I had very little fortune to spare. I’d never been the lucky sort; case in point, my attire for the day – a trench coat with a long-sleeved button-up and slacks to finish it off. I wasn’t exactly dressed for the weather. Then again, I never was. I was a creature of habit, and I felt naked outside of my general attire.

  Pulling up into the parking lot, I took note of the large, open area before me; there were mountains of discarded items haphazardly piled together and only loosely secured by a thin wire fence. A memory of a lifestyle influencer popped up into my head – a beaming woman delicately holding a vase in her hand before proclaiming that every item should have a home and settling it gently down on a table beside her. I wondered how many of these items were well-loved before they ended up here. Perhaps their “home” was with a loving family in their well-furnished home, so unlike the barren box I called my own. I was looking at a graveyard of memories, but they were nothing anymore, just scraps waiting to be salvaged and sold off to anyone who would take them.

  Smashed cars, piles of tires, and other broken items littered the area. Worthless. They clearly had more material than they could process, and most of it would never be recycled. It was no wonder that their security was lax; there was not much of value here at all.

  Gabe was already waiting for me near the entrance as I strolled up to him.

  “Sorry for the hold-up,” I said. “Slept like a baby. Won’t happen again.”

  Lies. Despite my late start, I hardly felt rested at all. The night had done me no good, and I was just as exhausted as when I went to sleep the night before.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, grinning. “I kept busy.”

  I knew it; it was too coincidental that he was only just about to head out when I called him. He must have been dragging things out to buy me time. A hint of guilt crept in.

  “Really?” I quipped, quirking a brow. “Did you fit some solitaire into your busy schedule?”

  “Nah, but I got some good shots in the bin,” he said. “All net, no rim.”

  It often goes without saying that success is reliant on hard work, but after years of pouring everything I’ve had into this job, I’ve learned one thing – that working was more about looking busy than getting anything done. As long as Gabe was technically sorting papers, a generally pointless task reserved for the passive aggression of the higher-ups, he could sneak in a bit of fun. Gabe liked to crumble up the papers not quite important enough to go to the shredder and toss them in the bin. It was a time-tested tradition, “Trashketball,” he called it. He told me that was what everyone called it too, but I never bothered to check, perfectly happy to take his word for it. He always asked me to join him too, but I never did, always too busy being caught up in the job, playing the part, and never veering from the path. Thinking back on it now, that might have been a waste; I wasn’t even sure if anyone ever noticed how straight I held my back. Maybe I’d have to join him one of these days; after all, the best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago, but the second best was always today.

  “So this is where Cassie was hanging out, right? Looks pretty cozy,” I mused. “Might just move in.”

  “Don’t let your AI hear you say that,” Ethan chimed in through our Irises. “Might hurt its feelings.”

  “It could take it,” I retorted. “It’s not fancy enough to have feelings or care.”

  I never upgraded my apartment’s AI companion system after moving in. It was still the base model, only sophisticated enough to handle basic commands like turning on my favorite songs. I didn’t need a nearly sentient disembodied voice to keep me company. Hell, the last thing I needed was another overly concerned busybody to tell me that I wasn’t taking care of myself like I didn’t know already.

  “Think Cassie used this place for parts?” I asked, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

  “Looks like it,” Ethan said. “We have evidence Cassie’s been through here, though I won’t bore you with the details.”

  Gabe snorted while I groaned and rolled my eyes.

  “I cut you off one time, and this is what I get?” I quipped. “How long do you plan to hold this over my head exactly?”

  “Long enough to make you feel bad about it,” he replied with a lilt in his tone.

  “Well, then,” I said, countering his teasing with my characteristically dry humor. “Consider this mission accomplished.”

  Instead of playing along with his game, I moved to crouch in front of a damaged rearview mirror, equal parts curious and apprehensive about how I looked. The shattered glass distorted my face, but it didn’t disguise the heavy bags under my eyes. I felt like shit, and I looked the part to match.

  This was no time to dawdle, so I pushed those thoughts aside to work on putting the pieces of the case together; after all, a little refresher never hurt anyone. Cassendra Weddel, also known as Cassie. Fourteen, missing for two weeks. No ransom, no concerned parents plastering her face all over the city begging people to bring home their baby girl. No one wanted to look for her at all, that is, other than her little sister, who was far too young to be a viable source of information. She was a child born into the Sect of Abstantia, a religious group absolutely opposed to the march of technology, a facet of society that Cassie had a vested interest in as a member of her school’s robotics club. She stuck her nose in the taboo and might have paid the price for it; go figure.

  “Do we know if she was building something or just smashing parts together?” I asked. “She might have gotten mixed up in trouble depending on what she was messing with.”

  “No clue,” Ethan sighed. “And we can’t exactly check her place for evidence without her parents’ consent. Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but don’t hold your breath on that; they’re not exactly being cooperative."

  “I can imagine,” I scoffed and straightened up, futilely brushing out the wrinkles in my trench coat just to keep my hands busy. “So, where should we start?”

  “Try a chat with whoever’s in charge; they might have something we can use,” Ethan said.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Gabe jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Behind us, there was a small path leading deeper in. At least one of us was paying attention; it took almost all I had just to stay present for the conversation.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” I said. “Lead the way.”

  The junkyard’s office was in a small, dingy building off to the side of the heavy machinery. Powerful machines loaded up conveyor belts with scraps ready to be smashed and processed. The smell of cigarette smoke thickened as I stepped inside, a health hazard that time couldn’t kill. Nicotine was something that always seemed to come back from the dead in one form or another. It was a counter-reaction to the prevalence of Ether. These days, people wanted their old-school poison pumped into their bloodstream straight from their lungs, just the way God intended. Behind the desk, the junkyard manager lounged in his chair, purposely ignoring us as if that would make us go away.

  We flashed our badges and introduced ourselves. No response. New day, old problem. I wish I could say I was surprised. This was the part where we took a more direct approach.

  “We’ve got a missing person’s case. Think you could lend us your security footage?” I asked.

  “Why do you bother asking when you can just take what you want?” he scoffed, finally pausing from this work to look our way. “You people only show up when there’s trouble.”

  My eyes narrowed at that line.

  “Trouble, huh?” I asked. “Got anything in mind?”

  “Nah, there’s nothing up here, Lady,” he said, tapping on the side of his head. “Head’s empty. See nothing. Hear nothing. Keeps me out of trouble.”

  There were criminal organizations who played around in places like this, getting rid of what they didn’t want anyone to see. Things like that were not worth it for someone like him to give a damn about. Hell, it was barely worth the trouble for us with how short-staffed we were. Of course, when someone really wanted something to disappear, they didn’t use a junkyard. It was too obvious. Fortunately for them, there wasn’t anything stopping them from doing whatever they wanted short of a body. Volare was the city that never slept. I used to think that was from the hustle and bustle of dreams and aspirations. These days, I wondered if it also dreamed of the horrors that happened inside of it whenever it closed its eyes. Perhaps both of us were insomniacs. How fitting.

  “We’ve got a few cameras on the main machinery. Take it or leave it,” he sighed, leaning back and shooting us a look that said he had already checked out.

  “You sure you wanna take that tone with us?” I asked.

  “I work in a dump,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve got nothing to lose. Think I dreamed of working here? If I could pick? Well, there’re a whole lotta places that would smell better.”

  Gabe snorted and covered his mouth with his hand, trying desperately not to laugh. Sometimes I admired his ability to find joy in almost anything; it was a quality I lacked. I took a closer look at the disheveled man in front of me, proudly wearing a white shirt with sweat-stained pits. It was the look of a man who had stubbornly given up a long time ago.

  “Point taken,” I said.

  After Gabe arranged for the data to be sent over to Ethan, we left the poor guy to his work. It was important for society that someone handled the dirty work, the unglamorous underside of what it took for the people to live their lives. I almost pitied him until I realized that it applied to me as well. No, our work wasn’t quite as menial, but it wasn’t exactly beautiful either. The work was ugly, dirty, and rough around the edges. The difference was that I put my life on the line, and once in a blue moon, I got the satisfaction of knowing exactly who I saved and what I’d done for them. It was the silver lining that kept me going even though the work often beat me down. Gabe took to our work like a fish in water. Case in point, Gabe was pretty upbeat as we headed out the door.

  “What’s got you in such a good mood?” I asked.

  “Just got a feeling,” he said. “Feel it in my gut.”

  There were few things I trusted more than Gabe’s gut. He had nerves of steel and an iron stomach. He’d eaten things that could have killed a lesser man and come out the other side none the worse for wear. Once we stopped in a place on the back streets of the slums because it was late and we were running out of options. The food there left me sick and doubled over, questioning my life choices for days, but Gabe, on the other hand, just shrugged it off like it was nothing. Hell, he even had the gall to ask me why I was looking so under the weather. That man was a marvel.

  “Ethan, what are we working with?” I asked.

  “So far, not much,” he replied. “But if you give me some time, I can get this sorted for you. Two weeks of footage from a few cameras shouldn’t be too bad if I set my system to zero in on Cassie. Sit tight.”

  I hated waiting, but I couldn’t be greedy; Ethan was working just as hard as the rest of us. I briefly considered questioning the other people around this dump, but I had a feeling it would be pointless. The guy who worked in the office wasn’t exactly eager to help, and it was unlikely that anyone else would be either; these were people used to being overlooked or intimidated, and I wasn’t na?ve enough to think that any of them had faith in a system that generally only bothered to keep up appearances. Instead of wasting our time pestering people who could care less about what the cops wanted, we settled into leaning against one of the towers of stacked cars. I had nearly bitten my nails down to the quick when our line went live again. Ethan was back again to save the day.

  "I got something,” Ethan said. “I’ve found Cassie in some shots from not too long ago.”

  Now that got my attention.

  “When?” I asked, already ready to move.

  “A couple of weeks before she vanished,” he said. “In the last shot I got of her, she was messing with something just out of view. Might be worth checking out. I’ll mark it on your Iris."

  A nicely glowing foot trail sprawled out before us, perfect for us to follow in her step by step. We were retracing Cassendra Weddel’s footsteps in some of the last moments her whereabouts were known. Unfortunately, they petered out where the camera couldn’t see, and we were left guessing where to look next.

  Now it was time for the fun part, and by that I meant the part where we either found something we were looking for or came out empty-handed after scouring a site of evidence that was no longer there. Two weeks was long enough for most traces of her to be long gone, especially courtesy of the rain that was currently the source of the humidity sticking my hair to my forehead. I cursed that rainfall while we paced, searched, and scanned the surrounding area.

  I was starting to lose heart when I caught Gabe staring at something. His eyes were fixed on a spot not far from where he stood, frozen in mid-step, balancing his weight awkwardly on the uneven ground to take a closer look. Following his lead, I came upon a cluster of twisted metal beams and trash. Amid the wreckage, on the edge of a crevice, was a warped plate of pipe with handprints dented into its surface, both too deep and too precise for any normal human to have left behind.

  “That’s new,” I said, quirking my brow. “Think it means something?”

  Gabe crouched down low to get a closer look, nearly brushing his nose against the cool metal. I leaned closer too, and then the ridges running through the handprint became apparent. They were cracks, hard edges of synthetic material. Whoever or whatever left this here was either modified or entirely synthetic to begin with.

  “Looks like they were trying to drag themselves out of here,” Gabe said, indicating the marks on the metal beams.

  "This looks good," I sighed. "And God knows I needed some good news."

  “I think it’s worth looking into at the very least,” Ethan said. “Bag it up and bring it back to the lab; I’ll look into it. I think we’re onto something.”

  “You heard the man,” Gabe said. “Let’s get this wrapped up and head out. I’m starving.”

  I had a feeling where this was going.

  “Another day trip?” I groaned.

  “You know it,” Gabe grinned. “Best place to get Chinese.”

  He clapped me on the back hard enough I almost lost my footing. I suppose this was his idea of an intervention. It was too late for me to protest, so I just focused on the job. We recorded everything, took the metal as evidence, and left the junkyard behind. The scent of this place still clung to me, and we’d undoubtedly need to make a pit stop to freshen up before we stopped by Lily’s Diner. Lily, my childhood friend, part of me thought that after college I’d never see her again, and that almost came true. Prior to the last case, I hadn’t seen her in over ten years, and now I was about to see her for the second time in just a few months. Life has a funny way of doing things sometimes, but I wasn’t going to complain, not now anyway; after all, sometimes what we dread is what we need the most. Instead, I straightened up and rolled my shoulders to work the kinks out of them. It was time to see an old friend again.

  followed, favorited, , or reviewed this story yet, please do so! Every bit helps. I also love comments, so feel free to comment below. ??