Chapter 40

We were surrounded and confined by precarious piles of cardboard boxes, papers, trash bags, plastic storage totes, electronics, holiday decorations for every occasion on the calendar, clothing in and out of laundry baskets, and colorful whatnots that weren’t always easily identified. Most people, I assumed, had one or two laundry baskets, maybe—three tops—one for darks, one for lights, one for whites. I counted eleven, right beside me and twelve through fifteen not three feet ahead, on the first three steps of a dozen leading upstairs. I had seen hoardingon TV, and now I’d seen it in real life.

“This way.” Marlon Glass had gotten there first, just ahead of me and Preston. He seemed quite weary already. The visual chaos, the foul, disorderly atmosphere could suck the life out of anyone, I figured. When Preston and Glass started off, I couldn’t get my feet to budge.

“You okay, Captain Becker?”

“Yeah, Glass. Show me.”