The scrap yard off Newtown Creek was pitch black and dead silent when the boys arrived there.
Rusted freight cars sat on broken tracks, surrounded by cracked concrete, muddy grounds, and a chain fence topped with barbed wire.
Across the area, the industrial buildings were shut down for the night. There were no houses, no corner stores, and no people walking around as it was completely empty aside from the security guards who were guarding the establishments they worked at.
James climbed the ladder on the side of the main repair shed. He moved quietly, carrying his scoped rifle over his shoulder. Once he reached the flat roof, he lay down on his stomach, resting the barrel on the edge where he had a clear view of the yard's only gate.
