Omar slips out of his shoes, one foot at a time. He swipes his hands over them, briefly before putting his shoes back on. I avert my gaze back to the soap between my palms, washing it off just as he finishes up as well.

"What was that about?" I ask him, following him out of the men's bathroom.

He shrugs and lets me walk ahead of him, giving me a wet slap on the back. "I'll be right back."

I watch him walk away into one of the connecting hallways of the airport until he disappears completely. Lib is still sitting on the bench, guarding our backpacks. When I approach her, she looks behind me and then at me with a slanted eyebrow.

"I don't know, he just said he'll be back."

Through the tall glass windows and doors of the airport, cars and taxis line up for passenger pickup. It's raining but only slightly. A pattern of colorful umbrellas make it past my vision outside on the curb like flowers. I watch them open and curl shut. To the right, taillights glow through the glass until finally, they shrink away.

A short time passes and Omar reappears through the sparse crowd. We gather our things from Lib, walking towards the exit.

"Where'd you go?" I ask, randomly.

He shrugs. Again.

"Nowhere," he answers, nonchalantly.

"Shall I book an uber?" Lib asks, oscillating her phone screen at us.

"No, I'll do it," Omar tells her. "I know the address."

I space out in the taxi except for the times my hand reaches for my phone in my jacket, checking to see if Michael has replied. He hasn't. And I'm getting nervous.

The ride is short and the smell of Lib's shampoo fills the car. I'm sure she doesn't mean to but with all three of us packed in the back, it's hard to avoid her hair falling all over me. The guy drops us in front of an auto shop that has nothing close to it except a Sunoco gas station sign in the distance.

We look at Omar, our faces readable as, what the fuck?

He holds his phone up to his face, unlocking it with the face scan feature. "It's a six minute walk from here."

"To where?" I ask, bewildered. When I say we're close to nothing, I mean it. I don't see any stores or apartments, just the cold breeze swooping past as cars speed on the main road.

He starts walking so we follow him, walking through empty plots with dirt that looks like sand spraying past our shoes. I kick a couple of stones and try Michael's number again. When he doesn't pick up, I take a minute to observe the Baltimore I see in front of me.

It's quiet, though I'm not sure if it's always this way. I try not to think about how much money I've wasted on this trip so far. I wanted to travel but not here. Nobody vacations to fucking Maryland. Yet here I am. My life on earth is limited and I am in Baltimore with two people I barely know.

Omar leads us to a denser, more residential area, making me forget the wasteland I've just seen. My arms hurt with all the anxiety that's been circulating in my body since we left.

On the opposite side of the street, a woman in a cheetah print skirt and sheer leggings, walks her dog. It's one of those terrier breeds that I'll never understand how people find cute let alone live inside their apartments. It breaks into a fit as we pause at the crossing. Of course it had to. At this point, I wonder why it doesn't march over here and chew my leg off. It would be an omen except we don't need any. Dark times lie ahead of us. Whatever that might end up looking like.

I walk behind Lib and Omar with not as nearly half the energy of either one of them. The smell of chicken sweeps in as we walk past a small restaurant on the corner. It has bright yellow walls, bushy plants lining the exterior and a hefty amount of people waiting in line. It screams overrated but damn, do I still want a sandwich.

Omar stops abruptly. I almost walk into his back.

"This is the house," he announces.

I look at the row of houses in front of me, unsure of which one he means.

"Number 206," he says, lowly.

"Looks empty," Lib observes. "There's a for-rent sign in the yard."

"Well, that settles it," I click my tongue. "Though we didn't have to fly all the way out to have known that. There must have been a listing online. Google maps could've probably shown us this."

Omar is quiet, his eyes still glued to the dismal looking residence. The walls are a boring color of brown layered brick, not nearly as modern or captivating as those that neighbor it. The door is grey, probably collecting dust. The 6 in 206 is chipped making it look like a misshapen zero. In a neighborhood like this, I don't know why anyone would want to lease it.

"What now?" Lib asks. I'm not sure if she's agitated or tired. A part of me hopes she's the former. We could leave together and catch the next flight out. Fuck this shit plan. I never should've come. In all my years of existence, I have yet to grow a back bone.

"We wait."

"Wait for what?" I blow air through my nose. He's joking, right? "The house is empty."

Omar looks at me without responding. I try to read his expressions, as if he expects me to know what the plan is without him saying it.

"We are not breaking into that house," Lib slices through the silence. "I am not doing that again."

"How else do you expect to find a dead man?"

"You know what, I'm out," Lib says, barely letting him finish.

In my periphery, I see a shadow move. It's a kid, no taller than my kneecap. He's wearing a blue beanie that's too big for his head, slightly dipped across his forehead. His mouth hangs open and it occurs to me we have an eavesdropper.

"Shut up, will you?" I say to Omar and Lib.

They straighten up, noticing the kid too.

"Hey kid, where are your parents?" I ask, slightly arching forward so I'm not too intimidating. I read somewhere online when trying to show a feline you aren't a threat, you have to lower yourself closer to their height. Height intimidates small animals. You'll never catch a stray cat, looking like King Kong yourself. Staring back at the kid whose eyes are wide open, I don't see much of a difference between the kid and a small furry animal.

His gloved hands are wrapped securely around a bucket of fries. I'm unprepared for this level of judgement from a kid. His mother, brown bob-cut and red boots swoops in and pulls his arm but not without a look of distaste towards us three.

"Well, fuck you too," I turn back to Lib and Omar.

"Congratulations Ben, we've been in Baltimore for less than an hour and people already think you're a paedophile," Lib mutters. "Loving the Maryland hospitality so far."

"If anyone looks like a paedophile, it's Omar, not me."

"Say that again."

"You're just missing the forehead tattoo and mustache," I tell him.

"Yeah okay, with your Dahmer looking ass," he strikes back.

"What the fuck?"

He shifts his gaze from Lib back to the house, seemingly indifferent. I guess he's decided to ignore me. He does that a lot, I've noticed. Zaps in and out of conversations when he wants.

"I'm with Lib on this," I say. "I don't think this is worth breaking and entering for."

"And your mission was?" Omar bounces back.

"We're in a whole other state, man. The house is vacant. And the guy you're looking for isn't even alive."

"If he isn't alive then why the fuck are you both here then?" Omar says.

"Easy. We just don't want to get thrown in prison."

"You guys agreed to getting this done with me," he replies. "I got you your money, didn't I?"

Yeah, eight thousand bucks isn't the lottery.

Neither Lib or I say anything.

"If you won't do this with me, I'll do it myself. Just don't expect me to cut you all back in when I find the fucker."

He slides out a box of cigarettes from his jeans and lights one up.

"Can you not?" I ask him. I'm tired as it is, I don't want to passively smoke now too.

"No, I can't," he replies.

"Fine, I'll do it but fuck you," I hiss, pointing a finger at Omar. "Fuck you if we get caught and all of this is for nothing."

His expressions don't change but a slight smugness enters his eyes, the end of the cigarette placed between his lips.

"Atta boy."