Magus Vol. 1 Page 2

  Chapter 2

  Though they had been delayed, we got the boring introductions out of they way before our approach to the recycling center.

  Maude. Ronan. Ronan, Maude. All fine and dandy.

  After I wiped my brow for the nth time a streak of moisture coated part of my arm. I wiped it off on my shirt, dampening the cloth.

  “They'd better have AC in there.”

  The recycling center was a bit of a mess. Random papers were scattered around the floor, crumbled and marred by dirty shoe-prints. The overhead fan was off, and the fan blades were slightly off kilter. I pondered if it was broken.

  I considered collapsing into a sofa set up near the front desk, but thought better of it at the sight of multiple odd stains. Not to mention the tears marring the leathery material.

  “What a dump,” I mumbled.

  Maude elbowed me. “Shush.”

  We approached the counter.

  A sticky residue clung to one of the corners. A splotch formed an irregular circle on the counter. Stains were splattered along the white surface.

  Maude looked around, and then leaned over the counter, trying to peek into the the back. It didn't look like anyone was around.

  “Hello? Is anyone in?” Maude glanced at me.

  I shrugged.

  She frowned and cupped her hands in front of her mouth shouting, “Hello!?”

  Someone yelped from deeper within the building and a metal cylinder rolled by from around the corner.

  We gave each other a look but said nothing.

  An overweight man stumbled out of the back and accidentally stepped on the metal cylinder, causing him to tumble forward. He caught himself by grabbing hold of the counter.

  I winced at how close he came to hitting his head. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He straightened up, dusting himself off.

  He wore a white sleeveless shirt. The cotton was blackened by something greasy near his waist. The middle-aged man was balding, but quickly covered his head with a cap that was hidden behind the counter. I could barely see part of a tattoo peeking out from behind his shirt's collar.

  “Well?” he asked. “What do you...”

  Maude tilted her head.

  He was staring at her rounded rodent ears.

  She cleared her throat. “Sir.”

  “What?” He snapped back to her eyes. “Oh. What do you two want?”

  She offered her hand. “I'm Maude, and I work for the paper.”

  “Paper?” He looked her over, hesitantly shaking her hand. “You look a little young to be a journalist.”

  I smirked. “She means the ins-”

  She elbowed me, giving me a dark glare.

  “...school paper.” I finished.

  Oddly she smirked, seemingly pleased with what I said.

  “Alright?” the man said expectantly.

  “I don't suppose you'd give us a run of the operation?” She clasped her hands together, smiling. “We're doing a piece about recycling, and how students should make an effort to bring aluminum cans down here.”

  “Well.” The man scratched at his chin for a moment before responding, “yeah, sure. I guess I can do that.” He laughed. “There's not exactly much else to do around here.”

  He disappeared briefly before reappearing from behind the door next to the counter. The sound of keys jingling and a lock turning gave way to the door creaking open.

  He motioned us to follow him.

  I'm not sure what I had really expected from a recycling center, but the backyard just wasn't quite what I'd imagined.

  “So, Mr. Beal,” Maude said, casually wandering around the fenced in area behind the recycling center.

  I tuned out their conversation immediately, taking a look around the yard instead. It looked like she had everything handled anyways, which begged the question as to why she felt the need to drag me along.

  Sheets of metal reinforced the chain-link fence surrounding the perimeter. A few weeds poked out from the fence line, but the field was otherwise bare dirt.

  Scrap metal was piled everywhere, and in no particular fashion. A large mountain of cans protruded from the farthest side of the enclosure, pipes of varying sizes and conditions were tossed around haphazardly. The entire yard was complete chaos, there was absolutely no sign that Beal kept the place organized at all.

  Geez, even the manholes-

  I stopped to stare at several manhole covers forming a small pile. I thoroughly scanned the rest of the garbage scattered around.

  Strange red parts of some sort looked like they belonged on a fire hydrant.

  What I initially thought were pipes poking out from behind a stack of boards were actually signs torn from the side of roads.

  “Seriously!?” I threw my arms up. “Is there no oversight when it comes to recycling?”

  I lifted a nearby tarp up, revealing several loose strands of bronze-colored wire. I shook my head at the man in open disappointment.

  The only legitimate metals Beal had back there was the giant pile of cans, and even that was suspicious. Why was it so big? There must have been over ten thousand cans stored there. Was he even recycling them?

  I decided to take a closer look.

  A small hole was formed in the side of the mountain of cans. A piece of sheet metal sat within it. I reached out to displace a few cans, so I could get a better look.

  “Hey!” Beal marched over to me. “Stay away from those!”

  “Easy, old guy,” I said. “I'm not the one taking obviously stolen crap off of people's hands.”

  I regretted saying it, because he looked pretty pissed. I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off immediately.

  “Get out!”

  Maude rushed over. “I-”

  “Out! Get the hell out!” He shoved me towards the door.

  Evidently Maude must have been feeling somewhat merciful, because she got us out of the heat immediately by wandering into a Gracie's Kitchen just down the road.

  Mostly they just served ice cream. The only other food offered were some really cheap burgers and fries. Despite their quality I still got some fries since I was hungry.

  And I like to poke squares into my ice cream with them.

  I idly chewed on a fry partially coated in vanilla. “Sorry.”

  She perked up from her cone, a look of confusion spread across her features. “For what?”

  I shrugged. “Well... you know. I kinda got us thrown out of there.”

  “Please.” Maude waved a hand dismissively. “That was great. I got a lot out of that.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “He couldn't have told you much for your recycling article.”

  “'Recycling article'?” She laughed. “I'm not writing about how students should recycle more.”

  I raised a brow at her.

  She pointed a plastic spork at me, her tone suddenly icy. “But they should.”

  I propped my elbow up on our table, resting my head on it. “Uh-huh.”

  “Anyways...” She cleared her throat. “It's fine.”

  “And what are you writing about then?” I asked.

  Maude shrugged. “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “Whatever I happen to find.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

  “No problem.” She smirked.

  Silence settled over us, and I studied the inside of Gracie's Kitchen. Something had seemed a little off since I entered.

  The tables were clean and stocked.

  The fluorescent lights were, as always, mostly working. Except for that annoying flickering one.

  The black-and-white tile flooring was recently mopped.

  “Listen,” Maude said. “Do you remember the way that guy freaked out when you approached that mountain of cans? And what's up with all those cans? It's like he's not recycling them.”

  “Why wouldn't he do that though?” I asked.

  “I dunno.” Maude chewed her lip. �
��But Mr. Beal's definitely hiding something.”

  “You mean like the tons of obviously stolen crap lying around?” I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I think he might just be trying to hide that.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My head snapped to the side, and I studied the mostly empty shop.

  A young lady idly studied her finger nails. Her expression clearly showed her boredom.

  An old man sat in the far corner of the shop. He ate a cheap burger alone.

  A fluorescent light flickered.

  I looked out the window and saw the eyes of hell. Bloodshot and tinged with yellow. Its face was pure white. Its lips coated in thick red. The creature's head topped in a fluffy mess of rainbow mesh.

  Eyes wide, I froze, unable to avoid its gaze.

  “HEYA KIDS!”

  I lurched away from the glass. “Dear god!” I inched just far enough over the edge of my seating to fall from our booth, hitting the floor. Hard.

  That clown smiled at us with crooked, stained teeth.

  Maude's eyes darted between the two of us.

  I hate that clown so much.

  “Well, if it isn't my old friend Ronan!” He said, in that awful mocking tone. “Haven't seen you around Gracie's in a while!”

  I hate you.

  “Aw...” He wagged a finger at me. “You weren't very talkative when you were younger either!”

  I wish I could kill you. I wish I could kill you with my HATE.

  We stared at each other for awhile. Maude kept her head down, focusing completely on her ice cream.

  Loved the moral support.

  “Hey!” The lady behind the counter shouted at us. “Clown! Get out of here!”

  “Whoops!” The clown did a spin while sliding backwards. “Got to go!”

  She climbed over the counter and sprinted past the tables. “Stop harassing customers!”

  The lady disappeared past the front door to chase him off once again.

  “Wow,” Maude said. “She's kind of a mean boss, huh?”

  I clambered back into my seat. “He doesn't work here.”

  She blinked slowly. “Excuse me?”

  We made our way to the top of a grassy hill that overlooked the recycling center. Unfortunately, although we could see down into the centers yard, we were an enormous distance away.

  Maude spied on the scrapyard behind the facility through a scope. It looked old, like something out of a movie set hundreds of years ago.

  She checked her watch. “It's been forty-five minutes and nothing's going on down there.”

  “Wow,” I said.

  She glanced back at me, her confusion apparent.

  “I didn't know they made wrist watches in the fourteen-hundreds.”

  Maude studied the watch in silence before snapping her attention to the scope. “Oh. I'll have you know, Ronan, this scope's an antique.”

  “Then put it behind a display case where it belongs.”

  “Shush.” She elbowed me before pressing the scope into my hands. “You look for a while.”

  “Hrm.” I grumbled but did as she asked.

  We spent hours up on that hill and saw absolutely nothing. I was almost proud of my dedication to following through with Maude's insane requests. Almost.

  A few empty glass bottles cluttered the field around us. The soda Maude brought didn't stay cold long, but thankfully the sun was losing some of its intensity in the waning daylight.

  Maude leapt to her feet. “Look! Look!”

  I walked next to her and stared expectantly.

  “Look!”

  “I-”

  “Look!”

  “I would...” I snatched the spyglass from her. “If you gave me the scope!”

  The scrapyard was empty, and I didn't see anything going on through the recycling center's windows.

  “Okay? I don't-”

  A small section of the can mountain moved. Numerous cans shook around, like something shifted underneath.

  They suddenly exploded outward, tumbling across the yard. A hole was left in their place.

  A figure climbed out, but even with the scope I couldn't make out many details.

  Mr. Beal immediately came bumbling out of the center, throwing his hands up, apparently shouting. Whoever he spoke to stood more calmly, covered in a dark colored robe.

  I lost sight of them when Maude recovered her monocular.

  “This is good. This is what we've been waiting for.” A smirk tugged at her lips. “I've got a plan.”

  I sighed. “Awesome.”