When Mase said he'd crashed us near the waste treatment plant, what he really meant was into. Into the treatment plant.

A flashing red security alarm blared. Steam and dust clouded the lights attached to a ceiling with an enormous hole in it. Dangling wires buzzed and snapped across snack and drink machines on one side of the room. Empty tables had been shoved into each other in a haphazard arrangement, and from underneath them, several heads poked up to peer at us. ...