We followed them and found ourselves in a dark, dumpster-filled alley. A loud moan, followed by an even louder bang, emitted from one of them. Black gunk oozed off its side. We steered clear of it. Freddie stepped on a pile of newspapers that squealed “ouch,” which was weird, but neither of us wanted to find the source of the noise. Then I think a cat ran in front of us. Either that, or it was a really, really big rat. At the end of the alley, a large black door with a big orange, neon sign reading “entrance” summoned us. We made a run for it. Cockroaches the size of mice scattered as we entered a dingy room lit by flickering fluorescent lights. It was so humid inside it felt like we were in a sauna. There were a couple of grimy chairs, a payphone without an earpiece, and a Plexiglas barrier. Behind the barrier sat a chair, and in that, an old, wrinkled Cajun woman wearing a bathrobe and head wrap slept. A record player whined out scratchy Blues music in the background.
