Environment Bug's Arc

Chapter 7 of 7

Bug stopped halfway down the trail and opened the logbook again. One entry near the back named a building still standing at the old drive-in site. A projection shed. He turned around and hiked back over the ridge. The drive-in sat quiet in the valley, screen leaning, paint peeling. Tall weeds had swallowed the parking lanes for years. Bug pushed through them and reached the small shed behind the screen. The door hung loose on one hinge. Inside, the air was thick and sour. Bug shone his light across the floor. Behind a stack of old reels sat three more barrels, rusted, untouched. Green liquid pooled around their bases and soaked into the wood. The operators had never moved them. They had simply locked the door and left. Bug stepped back fast. He did not touch the barrels. This was past his training. He pulled his warning tape from his pack and crossed the doorway twice. He photographed each barrel, each seam, each stain. He wrote the shed's location beside the matching logbook entry. Then he sealed the building from the outside with a posted hazard notice. Bug shouldered his pack and started down the valley road. The logbook had named the place. The place had given up its last secret. Now he carried enough evidence to put real authorities on the ground — and the drive-in's hidden harm would not stay hidden one more day.