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worth money and, with so many out of work, scavenging a sizeable piece would be like finding a bag of cash on the street.
    The sun was setting as they entered the building. The place reminded Riley of Master Harper’s shop after the Geo-Fiend had trashed it. The roof was intact, but some of the interior walls had tumbled into heaps of broken bricks. Graffiti marked the ones that were still intact. As expected, the building stank of mould, dust and urine.
    ‘Somebody needs to do some housekeeping,’ Riley grumbled, nearly falling when a brick shifted under her foot. It seemed that every few feet there was another obstruction.
    ‘On second thoughts, this could be a bad idea,’ Peter said. ‘You saw all the needles and stuff, didn’t you?’
    Riley had seen those and tried to ignore them, though that meant the local druggies used the place to do their business. ‘It’s the best location to watch the plant.’
    ‘Yeah, but it’s not the safest,’ he replied, no doubt trying to be the voice of reason. ‘Maybe we can find another place.’
    ‘No, it’ll do.’
    They’d had to work together to shift a large timber that blocked the stairway before they headed up to the roof. After they’d passed the first landing, Peter turned back. ‘Hold on.’ He began moving junk back in place. ‘We don’t want anyone to know we’re up here.’
    There were three flights and all were a gauntlet of debris. Finally, her friend shoved open the rickety wooden door to the roof. The floor underneath their feet felt solid, but they inched their way to the side closest to the plant with great care.
    ‘Well, that’s a good sign,’ Peter said. ‘No needles. That means the junkies don’t come up here.’
    ‘But the birds do,’ Riley said, scooping away bird droppings with the toe of her tennis shoe.
    ‘Birds I’m good with. Drugged-out crazies don’t do it for me.’
    It took Peter a few minutes to line up exactly where he wanted to set up camp. From experience, Riley had learned to back off and let him do what he wanted. He had this organizational gene that had to be exercised every now and then. She’d never tell him, but she suspected it came from his mother’s side of the family.
    Peter announced he’d found the perfect location and began to unpack his backpack and large black bag. First out was a piece of heavy-grade plastic like you’d use for painting your house. He spread that on the asphalt roof, then placed a heavy blanket on top of it. Out came a camera and a tripod, followed by a notebook, bottles of water, beef jerky, power bars and his phone.
    ‘You really are scaring me, dude,’ Riley said, making sure to smile while she said it. ‘Look at all this. You’d think you were sitting vigil in the graveyard or something.’
    ‘I doubt any necros are going to be bothering us tonight.’ He eyed her. ‘So what did you bring? Lip gloss and a hairbrush?’
    Smirking, she unpacked the sandwiches Mort’s cook had made for her, along with an ample slice of chocolate cake. ‘You owe me an apology.’
    ‘Ohmigod, it’s a feast! OK, you’re forgiven.’ He looked up from the food and grimaced. ‘Your disguise is making my eyes bleed.’
    The bracelet also sapped her energy. When she undid the snaps and set it aside, the relief was instant. That’s better.
    Once they were settled, they each ate a sandwich and divided up the slice of the cake. He shared his beef jerky. Riley found she actually liked the stuff, and according to Peter there would be a side benefit – they wouldn’t have to pee as often, not with all the salt.
    As each truck rolled up to the plant, Riley recorded the times and licence plate numbers in her friend’s notebook while Peter dutifully took pictures and video. Once the truck rumbled off, he would lean back against the short concrete wall and stuff his hands in his pockets to stay warm. After the third truck, Peter pinned his gaze on Riley.
    ‘In case you haven’t noticed, we are now on