We both covered our nose and mouth to keep out the stench of the alleyway; clearly it was being used as a toilet for South London's undesirables.
It was a relief to get out into the relative fresh air of the waste ground. "The ground, it's been cleared," said Josh. Looking down, I saw that the terrain had been cleared of all the dead birds that had created a path to the warehouse, when we'd been here previously.
We walked silently towards the grubby looking building, my heart beating steadily with apprehension; but strangely I felt no fear. I think the gun outlined in Josh's jeans pocket had something to do with that.
As we approached we both noticed a huge advertising hoarding that had been erected in front of the building. It was brightly coloured in yellows and purples with images of doves and shafts of light; the accompanying words read: DELIVERANCE 6/6/6 WITNESS THE POWER OF PASTOR GOODIE. It was written in a bold attractive font, in fact the whole poster had the look and feel of a contemporary film poster.
"They're making no attempt to hide it, in fact they're making it look like this Summer's latest Blockbuster Release," I said, as we continued onwards.
Josh kept his eyes peeled on the building, "It's a tight strategy, advertise it and passers by think it's innocent. Besides, these ceremonies happen in Churches' all over London, majority of em are legit," he explained. He looked around at the derelict and desolate space, "And they ain't gonn be getting innocent passersby around here, only evil intentioned scum," he added.
We stopped in front of the advertising hoarding, "PASTOR GOODIE!" I read.
"A.K.A Dylan," said Josh. We looked at one another in silent pause, until I broke it with, "So how'd we get to talk to him?"
Josh didn't hesitate, "We go in, and find him," he said, his hand resting on the gun in his pocket.
###
Our original entrance had been boarded up and it was as we circled the colossal building to find an alternative way in that I began to feel the first flutters of fear.
The recollection of the violence that was almost inflicted on us in this building returned to me and my heartbeat increased.
But I kept my fears to myself, until I saw another poster on a large wooden door: BENITA & JOSH, WE'VE BEEN EXPECTING YOU, PLEASE COME IN, OUR DOOR IS ALWAYS OPEN.
I felt a tremble from my head down to my toes, "No way Josh. Let's get outta here, I'm not walking into that violence again," I said, the shake in my voice obvious.
Josh whipped out the gun and blew on it, "But Benita, this time we've got the bang bang," he said, his voice firm with confidence.
But there was something else bothering me, "How'd they know we were coming? I feel like we're constantly being watched, by someone," I said, not mentioning that I suspected that someone to be my dad.
Josh remained focused, "All the answers are in this building Benita." He looked at me with his determined stare, "We need to go get those answers," he said, tearing down the poster, screwing into a ball and kicking it into the still, warm evening air.
###
The old door opened easily and without any ominous screech. It led into a large open room, the walls of which were entirely covered in opulently draped, red velvet curtains, which contrasted with what seemed like a freshly laid cream carpet. At the far end of the room was a raised wooden platform that would obviously act as a stage.
