The Rust Belt was a ghost town when I pulled up to the garage that was locked up tight.
I jumped out before the car had even fully stopped, stumbling toward the door of the garage. I hammered my fists against the metal, the sound echoing through the empty street of the industrial area.
"Cane! Open the door! Cane!"
No answer. They were all locked up behind the red door at the back. I looked around desperately, my eyes landing on the fire escape of the adjacent building. It sat three stories high, but a narrow catwalk connected it to a high-set window in the garage’s roof.
I scrambled up the fire escape, my hands slipping on the greasy iron. Every second felt like an hour. I reached the catwalk, the wind whipping my hair across my face, and I crawled toward the window. The glass was cove
