Mercy 6 by David Bajo

things.
    You need to show me where you found Meeks. How he was. How he looked.”
    Cabral nodded. “Okay, Doctor.”
    â€œI’ll meet you down there,” she said.
    When he left she walked to the window. Outside, more vehicles had gathered beyond the supply trucks. Carved in shadows at the light’s edge, their camouflage patterns drew the eye, framed the night. She pressed her forehead to the pane and shut her eyes. She pushed her hands to the pane also. Something for Mullich.
    Learn to scold yourself first, her mentor had told her. Check your own pride before others do it for you. The specialist will always be coming down here to do that to you, to swagger into the bay and show everybody what needs to be done. All we have is our hands and eyes, our splints and Band-Aids and old crude drugs.
    When she stepped out of the room and back into the bay, she sensed a creak in the entire building. Her mentor had told her about this. It’s not really in the building. It’s your body anticipating the change, adjusting. It sounds like vents activating, walls expanding.
    But it’s you.
    When she got to the subbasement, Mullich was there with Cabral.
    The architect was explaining to the tech what they had done to the old boilers. Instead of cutting them up and hauling them out, they had stripped them down to their copper tanks and cut doorways into them, welded in shelves with the leftover copper. The new forced-air units loomed huge on either side of the old tanks. They hummed.
    Mendenhall had been down here twice before to tend to injured janitors. One of them might have been Dozier. She had wondered about the boilers, put her fingers to the beaded weld lines. She remembered how warm they were inside, still trapping heat.
    The long, narrow room was fully lit, though one fluorescent panel above the last boiler was blank. She looked at that. Mullich followed her gaze.
    â€œIt’s not unusual,” he said. “Each janitor changes an average of one fluorescent per shift. The new rods will never expire. It’s cost-efficient to replace the old rods one by one, as they expire.”
    â€œYou think he came down here for that? Was there a report?”
    Mullich checked his handheld, startling both her and Cabral.
    â€œNo. No report.” Mullich stared into his tablet. Frowned. “But Meeks was old school. He probably saw it earlier, came back down.”
    â€œThen where’s the replacement rod?” she asked. “Where’s the ladder?”
    â€œThey keep those down here.” Mullich was still fussing with his handheld. “This is their domain. Everyone should have their domain. Even the janitors. Especially the janitors.”
    She went to the boiler beneath the dim fluorescent panel. One of the rods behind the translucent panel was still working, its bar distinct beside a dark twin. She brushed her fingers along the weld cut of the doorway.
    â€œWhat do they keep in these things?”
    â€œSnacks, little tools, magazines, coffee.” Mullich joined her at the doorway. “Themselves.” He would have to stoop to enter.
    Mendenhall looked at Cabral. “He was in here,” she said to him.
    â€œYou found Meeks in here.”
    The tech nodded.
    She stepped inside the boiler, felt the contained heat. She crouched near its far wall, where it curled below the shelves. She moved her hand along the curve, recalling Meeks on the gurney, his bicycling form. “Right here.”
    â€œYes.”
    Mendenhall placed her palm against the smooth copper. It was warm. She guessed 101.5.
    â€œI have a thermometer,” said Mullich.
    â€œOf course you do.” She remained in her crouch, gazing at the smooth cup of copper that had held Meeks. “You can tell Claiborne Meeks was in here, against the wall. The wall is 101.5. You can double-check me with your thermometer. With your lasers.”
    â€œYou should tell Claiborne.”
    She stood but stayed