A voice in the back of my head asks me if I’ve tried the door handle. I laugh again. Another madman’s laugh. I really am losing it. But I try the handle anyway and unsurprisingly the door doesn’t budge.
I let go and start pacing. I’m not looking for anything because I don’t think there’s anything to look for. We are trapped in here. The only way we can go is backward and I’ve never been a big fan of doing that. Not lately.
Drip, drip, drip.
Ah, it makes me want to tear my hair out or bring the barrel of the carbine up to my face and —
A drop of water splashes down on me. It’s very cold. It sends shivers up my spine. Then another one. I look up. All I see is darkness. There’s no telling how high the ceiling stretches for. It could be two feet or two hundred feet.
“What?” Abby asks, looking at me like I really am crazy.
“Come here,” I say.
She does. I position her to almost the exact spot I was standing at.
“Jack — ” she shrieks, cutting her off. “What the hell, man? Water? What, are you thirsty or something? I don’t think you realize, but every second we spend in here playing with water is another second closer we get to losing our lives. We have to find another way — ”
“Don’t you get it?” I say. My eyes bug out from my face. It’s so simple.
“You’re crazy? Yeah, Jack, I get it. I’ve suspected it for a long time.”
“No! The water. It has to come from somewhere, right?”
“Yeah,” she says. She has stepped out of the spot and put her hand on one hip. “We’re in a mountain, man. There’s water inside of mountains, isn’t there? I almost failed Earth Science, so I don’t know for sure…” She shakes her head. “Jack! Get to the point.”
“Pipes!”
She narrows her eyes at me as if I’ve just revealed the secrets of the universe to her and it’s impossible to understand.
“Pipes,” I say again. “Plumbing. This is a building as much as it is a mountain.” I keep my voice low. I don’t know who could be listening. The inner workings of this place seem to be very primitive, but there could still be cameras, microphones, or other types of spy gear like there were on the military base. Then again, I don’t think whatever is left of Central expected for anyone to break into their base, especially not Jack Jupiter. God, I really am going crazy.
“Okay…” Abby says. She matches my tone. Then she gives me a crooked look that seems to last an eternity before she starts walking toward the steps.
I don’t try to stop her. If she doesn’t get it, I’ll just have to show it to her. I take the carbine and I point it at the ceiling. It’s time to find out just how far those shadows stretch.
“Cover your ears,” I say.
“What — ” But I’ve already pulled the trigger.
Sixty-Two
The shadows disappear with the burst of gunfire. I see the jagged edges of rock above, the stalactites, the knobs, the gnarled looking faces within, and most importantly the metallic vent just below the line where the roof and wall meet to form a ninety degree angle.
“Jesus Christ!” Abby says. I barely hear her over the ringing in my ears.
“Did you see?” I try to match the same tone, but if I am, I have no fucking idea.
Realization dawns on her face again. Yeah, she did see.
“Pipes!” I say. Now, I can hear myself. All the reverberations come from inside of my head. The vent is only about eight feet up. I can probably reach it if by combination of running and a boost from Abby. If we were normal people, I’d give her a boost because she’s undoubtedly lighter and more spry than me, but alas, we aren’t normal. She’s a hand short and wouldn’t be able to climb with just one hand.
“How do you suggest we get up there?” she asks.
“Jump,” I say.
She shakes her head. “There’s no way.” But I’m desperate. “Jack, if you — ”
I cut her off again. Actually, I don’t, my gun does. I spray shots into the general vicinity of the grate. Bullets whine off the rock. Dust and debris crumbles and falls onto the ground below us. The corridor takes on this smoky quality. It smells like gunpowder and fire. When the shot’s impacts stop sounding muted by the rock and start sounding like bullets hitting metal, I know I’ve hit the right spot. Little flashes show me intermittent glimpses of the grate, and I shoot until the clip empties and the metal grate is nonexistent.
Stupid, but effective.
Abby covers her left ear with her stump and plugs up her right ear with her finger. Me, well, I just take it. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll need a hearing aid pretty soon. It beats the hell out of going on without Darlene.
As the shots hang in the air and what’s left of the metal grate falls from the rock wall and onto the ground with a loud clank, I hear a deep ringing in my head. Looks like I’m going deaf sooner than I intended.
“Jesus Christ!” Abby shouts. I barely hear her, but I know she’s shouting because of how red her face gets.
“What? What?”
“Are you stupid?” she asks. “What if you hit a gas line or something?” She talks like she doesn’t really know what it is exactly that she’s talking about.
“Gas line, Abby?”
She rolls her eyes at me. Right now is not the time I want to see that gesture.
“I’m not stupid,” I say, walking over to the hole-riddled wall, “I’m just desperate. You should be, too.”
She doesn’t meet my eyes. She looks past me at the metal door. Her lips press together until the redness is gone from them. “I-I can’t, Jack. I’m scared.”
And this surprises me. I walk away from the wall and toward her. I know this isn’t the time for sappy speeches and whatnot, I know there’s a madman behind those walls with my fiancé and who plans on ending the world, but I can’t not ignore Abby. But then again, I don’t know exactly how to approach this.
“I’m scared, too,” I say. Time to get serious, I guess. I’m honest, too. I am scared. This is really fucking scary. I’m in a mountain in the middle of the desert with only a few shots left in the carbine rifle we took off a dead man. One of my family members is at the bottom of the lake thanks to a gunshot courtesy of me. Darlene could be dead. Norm is gone. Yeah, I’m scared. I’m really scared.
Abby sees this — it would be kind of hard to hide on my face — and I know I said it’s not the time for sappy speeches and all that, but sometimes they’re damn inspiring.
“It’s okay to be scared,” I say. “I’d be more worried if we weren’t scared. This is scary shit.”
Abby nods, still not meeting my eyes.
“And it’s only going to get scarier, but that’s okay,” I say.
She looks at me. “Is it? I’m sick of being scared, Jack. I’m sick of losing people I love. The first time — in Woodhaven — that was the worst. I told myself, Abby, it gets easier. It’s like losing a pet you loved, like my cat Simba, and then I met Brian and I liked him, Jack. I really did. He was cute. And he was funny. I think I could’ve even loved him, Jack, and that means a lot coming from me.” She gives me a look that says, Sue me. “Then Butch did what he did to him and it wasn’t easier. It was just as bad. Almost as bad as having to kill my own mom.” Tears run down her dirty face, slicing through the dust. Her voice is unsteady, wavering. “Then…then Herb happened.” She puts her face in her hand and sobs. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him. I was too scared, Jack. I was too scared! I can’t lose Darlene, too.”
My heart sinks. “Me, either. So let’s save her. Let’s save the world.”
She smiles. Tears are still rolling down her cheeks.
“Abby, I mean it.”
“How can you? You don’t know what lies ahead. You’re not psychic,” she says.
“No, I don’t. You’re right. But I don’t have to be psychic to know what lies ahead. I’m a firm believer that you make your own luck. So what lies ahead is up to me and my actions.”
> Abby smiles. This time, I think, genuine. She nods, too.
“What lies ahead then?” Abby asks. “What do you see?”
“I see happiness.” I reach out and grab her shoulder. She puts her hand over mine. I didn’t notice, but the gesture I just made was one of comfort. Darlene must be rubbing off of me. “Now, let’s do this and make our own luck, cool?”
She nods, smiling. I notice there’s an intensity in her eyes I haven’t seen since she was bitten. Sure, she didn’t recoil like Norm did after the events of Eden, but she still suffered some form of post-traumatic stress. Now, I see that fire again. I see the girl who helped me escape the clutches of Pat Huber and the zombies of Woodhaven. I see the old Abby Cage, and let me tell you, I really missed her.
“Let’s do this,” she says.
We both look toward the open black hole in the low light. It’s about eight feet off the ground, shrouded by shadows. “Hell yeah, give me a boost,” I say.
She walks over and gets on her knees.
“You ready?” I ask her.
She nods, her good hand at the ready. I back up as far as the narrow corridor allows me and start running at an angle. I’ve never been very athletic, I’m sure I’ve mentioned this more than a few times, but what choice do I have?
I have to save Darlene, and I have to do it now.
Sixty-Three
I step on her thigh and her hand. Abby’s not the strongest woman I know, not physically at least, but she gives me enough of a boost to get a few inches higher than I would’ve on my own. I hang in the air for what seems like a long time. The dark hole gets closer and closer until my hands feel like they’re bitten. Sharp rock slices my palms. I feel wetness and it’s so dark up here that I really hope it’s just sweat, but know it’s blood.
I scramble up the rest of the way, kicking my wet socked feet against the rock wall. This wouldn’t be my first time scaling up some kind of structure. I’m seasoned from my time in D.C., and I guess that’s a good thing.
“You got it?” Abby says from below. She sounds very far away. I do got it. The blackness engulfs me and probably from her point of view, I disappear. I can see nothing, but what I feel is damp, dirty, clumpy. I try not to imagine rat droppings or dead spiders. It’s really hard not to imagine that stuff. My heart races.
“Jack?”
“Yeah,” I grunt. “Yeah, I’m fine. Throw me my gun.”
Abby tosses the gun up to me and from in here with all this darkness, I see it coming easily. I grab it in one go, by the strap. Metal clunks against rock. I pull it the rest of the way inside.
“Good catch,” Abby says.
“Thanks.” I undo the strap and let it hang. The sound of my voice echoes along the seemingly endless vents and pipes beyond. It’s unsettling, causing me to shiver. “All right,” I say, looping the straps around my fist tight without losing too much length, “I’m gonna brace and pull and you’re gonna have to help me by climbing. Can you do that?”
“Yeah,” she says.
The strap goes taut and my knuckles burn. The blood from my cut palm soaks into the material, rolls down my arms. I have one leg braced around the corner of the vent where the black ducts lead to nowhere in particular, and another leg tucked under me. It’s a pretty uncomfortable position, but Abby can’t weigh that much.
“Be careful,” I shout. She’s automatically at a disadvantage because of her missing hand. I’d hate for her to drop and bust an ankle or reopen her cauterized wound. That’d be pretty bad timing.
I grunt. I pull. Abby grunts, too. Her breathing gets heavy.
But she makes it. When she’s within reach, I grab her by the shirt, then the shoulder and arm, and then the waist. She’s in.
I’m sweating. I’m bleeding. I’m out of breath.
I lean up against the cold wall inside of the vent, my eyes closed — as if it would make a difference, I can barely make out anything in this darkness anyway.
“We go that way,” I say, pointing down the tunnel. My throat feels like it’s closing up to the size of a pinhole. I can’t show this, though. I can’t show my fear in anyway. I told Abby we have to stop being scared, we have to do what we have to do, and we have to keep going forward. So I crawl on the rough surface, past Abby, and toward the unknown, toward Darlene.
Sixty-Four
Not long after we start moving, I hear voices.
Two of them at first. One is Klein’s, the other is a woman’s. Then, one more. My heart leaps. I stop moving, Abby bumping into me.
It’s Darlene.
“Don’t touch me, you asshole,” she says.
Oh thank you God.
“Darlene,” Abby says.
“Be careful what you call me,” Klein says.
I’m excited and petrified. What if I’ve stumbled upon her execution? “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” Darlene says.
Klein chuckles. “You’re much too pretty to be killed. Your looks and brains can be useful to our future.
The other woman cackles. Chills go up my spine.
“What do you say about becoming a breeder for the New World Nation? You certainly have the hips.”
“Fuck you,” Darlene says. Faintly, I hear her spit and Klein makes a sound of disgust. I need to find a way into there. I need to find away to Darlene. God, I’m freaking out. The walls are closing in. Abby seems to get farther and farther away from me.
“You don’t have much of a choice,” Klein says.
The other woman laughs again, then she says, “Start the process, Robert. Start it before that pesky Jupiter finds us.” She sounds distinguished. Like maybe she had some well-upbringing where dinner was escargot and champagne every night and the kids got whatever they wanted, including that Jaguar on their sixteenth birthday. Then again, there’s an edge to this voice. She sounds like she eats people and spits out their bones.
“No way he can get through that door. And in thirty minutes, it won’t matter. He’ll be turned to ash,” Klein says. “Then Darlene and I can work on repopulating.”
The rage sizzles inside of me. We’ll see about that, I think.
Abby reaches out and I see her hand pressing up against the tunnel’s wall, like she’s searching for something. The paleness of her hand bobs in the darkness. She gasps.
My heart does a flip.
“Here,” she says. “It’s rotten. Feel it.”
I reach out. The wall is slimy with moisture, but whatever the structure is made out of is softer than its surroundings. Rotten.
Fuck yes.
“No, Robert, I can’t wait. These things are meant to act on a moment’s notice. They were built for war. War doesn’t allow the taking of time,” the woman says.
“You don’t understand,” Klein says. Their voices are echoey, almost tinny. “With the spread of the disease, no one was there to keep them up and running. I’m sure you heard all about the reactor meltdown in California, right?”
The woman doesn’t answer.
“Central had their fingerprints all over that one, didn’t they? When there’s no one there to keep things running, machinery and equipment fail, Mrs. May.”
“Then what was Mick’s crew doing? Huh? Were they just sitting around with their thumbs up each other’s asses?” the woman named Mrs. May says.
Klein laughs. No humor in it. “I’d love to ask Mick, but I can’t because he’s dead. Because you killed him. What do you know?”
“Spare me your sarcasm, Robert. I’m not above killing you, either,” she says.
Klein laughs again. This time there is humor in it. “You wouldn’t survive without me.”
“You want to see if that’s true, Robert? Do you want to see if that’s really true?”
Oh, man. There’s something in her voice worse than the edge. It’s the recklessness, I think. It’s the fact that she knows she’s wrong, she couldn’t survive without Klein, yet she’s willing to kill him just to prove a point. My grandmother would’ve called this cutting your no
se off to spite your face.
I press the rotten wall again. I need to find a way inside before I’m too late.
Klein doesn’t speak for a long time, it seems. I feel Abby closer to me, the warmth radiating off of her flesh in waves.
Then Klein talks and his voice is about as flat as every bottle of soda out in the wasteland that is our world. “It will take some time. I’m sorry, Margo. That’s the way it has to be. Surely you can wait thirty minutes.”
Mrs. May, or apparently Margo, shrieks. Something clunks off of something else. I’m hoping it’s a ball point hammer to Klein’s head — then again, I want to be the one that gets him. More objects fall over. Glass shatters. I’m thinking computer monitor or television. “There’s three hundred people waiting for you to hit the button, Klein.”
“I will hit the button when I'm ready to,” Klein says.
“Hit it now!”
More objects crashing.
“A temper tantrum isn’t going to get you any — ” Faintly, I hear Klein grunt. “Oh that’s nice. Go right ahead. Hit the button. Hit it as much as you want. It’s not going to do anything until it’s ready.”
Mrs. May shrieks.
“That’s it! You’re not allowed inside. Your membership has been revoked,” she says. “And I’m killing your friend.”
Darlene. No!
I pick up the gun. My hands shake so bad, I almost can’t do it.
The gun feels like nothing. I wouldn’t know I’m holding it if the butt of the rifle wasn’t pressed up against my chest. The feeling has gone.
I pull the trigger.
Sixty-Five
I hold it down — only counting three shots — until the rotten metal in front of me is no more and bright white light floods the darkness. I’m falling, falling, falling. I’m Alice down the rabbit hole. Abby is with me. We are suspended in mid-air. Falling forever.
Then we’re not.
Then we hit.
Someone screams. A high-pitched shrill scream. Sweet air fills my lungs. Sweet, clean air. I try to open my eyes, but the pain is almost unbearable. I can’t move. My lungs are the only thing working, it seems. Taking in the good air, pushing out the bad. In, out, in, out.
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