The Smell

Alex had rested well in preparation for his two night shifts. John had advised that it was eight in the evening until eight in the morning. He packed some food for the shift and, anticipating hours of boredom, borrowed a book from his daughter. He selected something with dragons and knights on the cover and hoped it was at least somewhat interesting. Caroline barely acknowledged him when he said he was on his way to work.

John was already there when he arrived. Alex found him slouched in one of the chairs in the CCTV room. Alex quickly looked at the feeds and found that the place thankfully looked deserted.

“Evening, kid. Make yourself a coffee and settle in. The night shifts are usually dead. At best we might have some teens trying to break in, a transient we need to roust. If you think you're flagging, there are some energy drinks in the fridge.” John explained.

Alex really hoped he was going to drop the patronising kid shtick soon.

“So what, we just sit in here for twelve hours?” Alex asked.

“They like us to do patrols every couple of hours. We can alternate. Take this with you.” John explained. He held up a small plastic box, with metal studs on the end and passed it over to Alex.

“What's this?”

“We call it the zapper. There are loads of points around the site. Walk up and press that against it, and it records you were there. They can pull logs to see when patrols were happening. Don't worry about it if you miss one nobody ever checks the logs.”

“So who is taking the first patrol?”

“I'm going to pull rank due to seniority. You go out first, and I'll do the next one. Plus it gives you a chance to familiarise yourself with the site more.”

Alex decided it was not worth complaining and would take the first patrol as suggested. He had seen the Zapper points John had mentioned but not worked out their use until now. He grabbed a flashlight, the Zapper and a walkie-talkie.

*******

Alex had been out on patrol for about half an hour. He found walking round on his own he found it to be strangely calming, exploring the site on his own. Sometimes he found it a little unsettling, weird shadows at strange angles and the occasional noise which made him jump. His solitude was interrupted by John calling him on the radio.

“Hey, Alex. I forgot to mention something maintenance passed us a report on some weird smell coming from the male restrooms near the Forbidden Rose lingerie store.” John told him.

“Shouldn't that be their job?” Alex asked.

“You're right. But they pass stuff onto us when they can't be bothered to sort during the day. Most likely it's just something coming from one of the vents again, or some dirty fucker didn't flush.” John suggested.

“I'll sort it,” Alex said in an exasperated tone.

Alex suspected that John had waited until his first patrol was almost over so he could make Alex deal with it and not have to do anything himself. Forbidden Rose was upstairs and halfway across the Mall. Fuck you, John. He made it over there in twenty minutes and stepped inside the men's restroom that John had mentioned. It was a standard Mall restroom sinks and mirrors on one wall, some urinals and stalls opposite the sinks. It was painted in light pastel blue. All three stalls were closed. Alex checked each one and found that the middle stall was locked. He tried forcing it by lightly shoulder-barging it but did not have any luck.

Alex stepped into the stall on the left of it and stood up on the bowl to look over the wall into the stall next to it. Alex almost fell over when he saw what was there. There was a man slumped down sat atop the toilet. He was wearing a charcoal suit and looked like he had a briefcase chained to his right arm. From a brief glance, he looked to be a Latino male in his thirties or forties. The man had short black hair and a trimmed moustache and beard. Alex stepped down off the toilet and walked over to the sink.

“John. There's a guy in the middle stall.” Alex told him, sounding alarmed.

“What is he sleeping? Drunk? Passed out after getting high?” John asked.

“Well, I fucking hope it's one of those. You want me to check his pulse, don't you?” Alex asked rhetorically

“Oh, you better hope he is alive. You don't want to know the amount of paperwork we have to fill in if we find a body.” John complained.

Alex put the radio down on the sink and got back on the toilet bowl. He looked at the lock and guessed he might be able to knock it open with his flashlight. This took him several attempts, but on the third try he managed to get it open. He very cautiously stepped into the occupied stall. He was expecting the guys eyes to open wide any minute, and he would suddenly have some hands around his neck. Alex had no such luck. He stuck a finger to the guy's neck and searched for a pulse. The man was cold to the touch, and he had to suppress the bile rising in his throat when the reality dawned on him. The man had clearly been dead for a few hours at this point.

“He's fucking dead. A couple of hours, I think.” Alex told John over the radio.

“Shit. Check if he's got any ID before anything else.” John requested.

“You want me to rifle through a dead man's pockets?” Alex replied.

“Alex. Just fucking check, okay. I know you're freaking out, and this is only your first week.” John stated.

He stepped back into the stall and started patting down his pockets. He confirmed what he had seen earlier the briefcase was handcuffed to his right arm. He started searching for a wallet and stumbled a little while hunched over and slammed against the briefcase. It swung open, and Alex simply stood there, slack-jawed. Inside the briefcase was at least a hundred thousand in stacks of dollars.