“This is one of those times I wish I would have been granted flying powers with my shifting abilities,” Desmond said.
He and Becca stood, watching Luna, Rocco, and Cyrus climb ever higher into the sky.
Becca spotted Thurston in the rain, walking on a vine bridge from the exterior stairwell down to the roof of the silos, arm-in-arm with a woman who carried an umbrella. The covered work floor atop the silos glowed orange. What the hell?
“We have to get up there,” Desmond said.
“I don’t disagree,” Becca said. “But how?” she asked.
“I think I saw a stairwell on the other end of the silos,” Desmond said.
They ran across an abandoned maze of gravel, weeds, and cracked concrete barriers toward the silos. A decrepit wooden dock ran along the western silos with a drop-off into the Chicago Riv
