Lesath

Locked in his dark cell, Greg lay awake in bed, fidgeting with the small cassette recorder, pressing the rewind and stop buttons to listen to the heavy click and spring-loaded clank that initiated and punctuated the faint whirring mechanics. He knew well enough no one was going to come looking for him––not while he was in between jobs, living in a four-door pickup truck, and had traveled to an undisclosed location without telling anyone.

What brought him here were rumors of an abandoned bu...