Heroic Measures (continued)

It did not sound quite like gunfire, but he knew his training under Harrison and Westin that a combination of strange acoustics and a silencer could easily confuse his auditory sense. Still, it was something out of the ordinary. His curiosity won out over his fatigue—but just barely.

It’s on the way home anyway, he reasoned. It was mostly true, even if investigating the noise did take him two blocks over from the more straightforward route to his house.

His path took him through a neighborhood on Cass that he did not recognize. He had heard of it, of course, but he could not recall having spent any time here. It was, in many ways, the archetypical example of “nondescript” surroundings. A few small businesses were present on either side of the street. All of these were closed and dark. There were also two medium-sized warehouses, each located at opposite ends of the street. Walter could not tell whether either had been abandoned. Neither one of them had that feel, but with no lights on in their interior, it was difficult for him to tell for certain.

On the corner, were Cass met Traynor, there was a drugstore that had definitely been abandoned. The windows were covered with thick layers of grime and dust, although curiously enough, none of them appeared to have been broken.

Its main entrance actually opened diagonally onto the corner. Two curved brick and concrete steps led to a deep exterior foyer that ended at the single front door. Walter crouched in its deep shadows there, grateful to have a space large enough to crouch comfortably, his back supported by the masonry wall. He waited there, listening, but the sound was not repeated.

A few times, Walter thought he heard voices. They were little more than ghostly echoes, though, so he could not be certain that it was not just the breeze passing through the sycamore trees.

After several minutes of this, and an increasing concern that he might nod off right there in the storefront alcove like a vagrant, Walter listened hard one last time and began to rise to his feet. He was only halfway out of his crouch when he heard it.

He froze, listening again. It had not been the same sound, but definitely the sound of something. This time, also, he was certain that he heard faint voices. They did not seem to be whispering. Instead, they appeared to be distant, or else muffled by the layer of brick and masonry that fashioned the exterior of most of the buildings on this block.