The Bedford drew up at the 5 kilometer-stone, in front of a sprawling single-storey fortress. The building looked forbidding, more daunting close-up than from a distance. Like, serious business.
Dark mud walls were crumbling in places, a few bullet holes tattooed a wide circle across the front door, the only door, heavy and faded, reinforced by wide and thick strips of rusted steel nailed across the rough wood.
No one spoke. No one made an effort to leave the bus.
There were no windows or openings of any kind along the wall, which seemed to absorb and consume the grey daylight. Easy on the eyes. A small squat watchtower leaned drunkenly out into the street. The structure was almost too decayed to be in use.
Dan had the distinct feeling they were being watched. Round here, the hills had
