We drove over to the Heights section of town, the rolling hills that the city had first been founded on, and Mark drove us to Mount Zion. As we approached I could see how perfect it was as a location. Relatively centrally located in the city, it was still isolated in the hills, with acres of unoccupied land around it. The driveway was nearly a half mile long, giving us plenty of isolation and warning if anyone wanted to drive up to the site. In addition, the ghost stories and other superstitions limited the number of teenage lovers or homeless who'd be willing to try and use the old buildings for unauthorized purposes. Mark pulled in, and shut off the engine.
"After I purchased the building, I used my corporation to hire a very discreet handyman, who came up here and did some renovations to the bell tower of the church. The old door was replaced with a steel core security door, and the stairs were reinforced along with the room at the top being cleaned and sparsely furnished. I apologize there is only a single thin mattress, but it was created as an emergency base, not a permanent residence."
"It'll be fine," I said, looking up at the old church. It still looked abandoned, but solid, in a Neo-Gothic style that intimidated. I thought about Tabby's fixation with The Crow, and thought it was an appropriate place to start from. "When we get Tabby back, we should bring her here. She'd like this place."
We went inside with our bags, and I was surprised. While the main sanctuary was still an abandoned mess, the stairwell to the belfry was concealed well, looking like the door frame had been bricked over. Mark used a remote control that looked just like one for a car door to unlock the entrance. It even beeped like a car door system would. "Yeah, I copied it. A lot of supposedly high-tech gadgets are nothing more than applying old solutions in new ways."
The belfry itself was spartan, mostly scrubbed down hardwood that was stained almost black. "The handyman sent the lawyer for my shell corporation a few pics of what it was before, and I liked the old color, so I just had him seal all the wood after making sure none of it was rotted out. They built the platforms of cedar, actually, so it's still solid as a rock. I don't know if the color is a result of the original stain they used, age, bat guano, or a combination of all of them, but I liked it."
A little bit of natural light filtered in from the slat sides on the north side of the tower, which had years ago allowed the sound of the bells to come out. I could see the massive beams above us where they had once hung, but had been removed decades before. Along the other three walls the slats had been sealed up. There was a thin mattress on the floor along the west side of the floor, a small table, and a series of metal footlockers. "What's in these?" I asked, tapping them with my foot. "Your supplies?"
"And my tools," Mark replied, unlocking two of the lockers. The tops lifted open, revealing an arsenal. "We should contact the people who have Tabby, and learn more."
I took out my old cell phone, and looked at him. "Here?"
"No, we'll go back on the road," Mark said, taking out two pistols. "You ever fire a gun before?"
"Just on video games, and one time I did some paintball," I replied.
Mark nodded, put one of the pistols back, and pulled out another. He took a clip of ammunition from the trunk, slapped it in, and pulled back on the top, making a metallic, intimidating snick. He turned the gun around and held it out to me. "It's loaded, with one in the chamber. There's a safety on the left side, right now it's on. Push it in, and the red line disappears. See?"
I looked, and saw the button. I pushed it in, and heard a small click. I looked on the other side of the grip, and saw the button had popped out on the other side, this time with a red line visible. I pushed it, and the safety reengaged. "Okay, got it. Now, how do I cock this thing?"
"You don't need to," Mark said. "Once the safety is off, just point and shoot. Listen, this thing is not very big, but it packs a punch. You more or less point and shoot, and can do it over and over again."
Mark took two more pistols from the footlocker, slid in clips, and tucked them under his shirt against his lower back. With his shirt hanging loosely over the top, I couldn't see anything. "Do you have a jacket or a sweatshirt?"
"I have a hoodie," I said, "but it's kind of tight. I couldn't wear that pistol in my jeans like you are."
"Then keep it in the pocket itself. If you stuff some other things in there, you should be fine. We're going to walk, so it should look like you have a cell phone or something like that in there. Don't pull it out unless you have to. You'll know when."
We left the belfry, and walked cross country until we were along a side street, near a preschool. "This was a lot easier when I started," Mark said as I pulled out my phone. "Back then, there were pay phones all over the place. Nowadays, neighborhoods like this don't have many at all. In some ways it makes it more flexible, since we can go anywhere. The bad part is you need to hang onto a phone. There's some VOIP and different masking programs out there, but in a lot of ways they are just as traceable as a normal cell phone. So, we do things like this, and travel. I'd prefer to get on a city bus or something and head downtown, but I don't want Tabby to be in any more danger."