Free Black Rock by John McFetridge

waving him to back up. Dougherty leaned out the window showing his uniform saying, “I’m on duty.”
    The security guard said, “So what, turn around and go up McTavish to the Physical Plant on Dr. Penfield. That’s where all the cops are.”
    Dougherty said, “Can I cut through campus?” and motioned to the road circling the big lawn spreading out ahead of him, and the guard said, “Okay, park in front of Dawson Hall. You can cut through the arts building.”
    â€œI know the way,” Dougherty said.
    As he drove through campus he saw a few people standing at the doors to a new concrete slab building that looked to be over ten storeys, taller than the chemistry building beside it, Dougherty couldn’t remember the name. He parked by Dawson Hall and walked up the steps of the arts building, looking back over the big lawn and Sherbrooke Street beyond and realized he’d wanted to come in this way because it was coming in the front door. He hadn’t wanted to go in through the Physical Plant — there wasn’t a sign that said
tradesman’s entrance
, but that’s what it was. He’d been to the arts building once before, looking for admissions back when he thought he might fill out the form. But he’d ended up leaving the campus, too intimidated to even ask anyone where admissions was.
    This time he walked up the steps and into the Arts Building and found the place pretty much empty. He walked past rows of offices and through the halls that connected the building with the Physical Plant and came up on the dispatcher’s office from behind.
    The Physical Plant he knew from when he was a kid, working Saturday mornings with his father, running phone lines on campus. They’d start and end in the Plant, a building it was unlikely any student had ever been in.
    Dougherty stopped at the dispatcher’s office and realized his hands had been balled into fists and his jaw was clenched. He took a breath and relaxed when he saw the other uniformed cops standing around smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee in the break room.
    One of the cops said, “Hey Dog-eh-dee, nice of you to join us,” and some of the others laughed and Dougherty said, ”Yeah, you’re having trouble holding up that wall by yourself.”
    A young cop said, “I was hoping there’d be more students here, hippie chicks looking for free love,” and the dispatcher said, “It’s June, idiot, school’s over.”
    â€œNo summer school?”
    Dougherty stepped up to the window to the dispatcher’s office and said, “Where’s Vachon?”
    â€œHe was in Otto Maass and then Burnside Hall, and now I think he’s in the library — most of the buildings are closed.”
    Dougherty remembered the chemistry building was called Otto Maas and the new concrete slab was Burnside Hall, some kind of science building. Then he said, “We’re just waiting?”
    The dispatcher shrugged.
    Dougherty motioned to the alarm board beside him and said, “What’s going on?”
    The board was covered with square buttons: all of the bigger buildings on campus were listed and beside each name the buttons were marked
intrusion
,
fire
and
flood
. A few of the buttons were lit up and paper clips were stuck into them. The dispatcher said, “The alarm goes off, usually when some student is late handing something in and shakes the door. You stick the paper clip in to stop the buzzer but the light stays on.”
    Dougherty saw that all the lit-up buttons were
intrusion
, and he said, “So what do you do?”
    â€œSend the foot patrol; he resets the alarm.”
    â€œBut some buildings are unlocked?”
    â€œYeah, there are some summer classes.” He shrugged again and said, “There are some chicks here.”
    â€œBut what if it’s in one of the locked buildings?”
    The dispatcher said they’d have to check