“Not too bad,” Coach Delger said. “A cut and a little bump. I’m guessing you were wearing a helmet, right?”
“Yeah,” the boy said.
“Some of the cushion missing on the inside?”
“A little.”
Smirking, she said, “Get a new helmet and that won’t happen next time.”
The old woman came out of the kitchen with the water and some towels.
“Susan,” Coach Delger said to Coach Driscoll. “Can you clean up his head? I’m going to check if there’s anything else wrong.”
“Sure,” Coach Driscoll said. She grabbed a towel and got it wet.
“My knee,” the boy said.
“Which one?”
“Left. From before.”
“Before?”
He gave a little shrug. “Not my first crash today. Dislocated it.”
While Coach Delger used a pair of scissors from the first-aid kit to cut away his pants leg, the boy looked at Martina.
“What are you guys doing here?” he asked.
“We were at a softball tournament. Got stuck outside the quarantine zone on our way home.”
“Did you win?”
She figured he was just trying to distract himself from his pain. “Second place out of sixteen teams. Not too bad.”
“Go Burros,” he said.
She smiled for a second, then looked down. She wasn’t wearing one of her school shirts. Maybe someone outside was. That must have been it.
“Yeah, go Burros.”
“Who did most of the pitching? You or Sandra?”
Martina wasn’t the only one who was suddenly staring at the rider. Both coaches had stopped what they were doing and were looking at him, too.
“Do I know you?” Martina asked.
“Do I look that bad?”
She squinted her eyes, studying him. “You look familiar, but…”
“Spanish class,” he said.
“Paul?”
“Hey, Martina.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” Coach Driscoll asked.
“This is Paul Unger,” Martina said, surprised. “He goes to Burroughs, too.”
“What were you doing out there on a motorcycle?” Coach Driscoll asked.
Paul got a faraway look in his eyes, and the small smile that had been on his lips disappeared. “Trying not to die.”
THEY GOT THE whole story out of him.
As soon as Coach Delger realized he’d come from the quarantine zone, she immediately segregated everyone into two groups: those who had come in contact with Paul, and those who hadn’t.
The hardest part of the story to believe was the deaths of Nick and Lisa. That was until he showed them the video.
It was Martina’s idea, however, to post it on the Internet.
Thirty-Three
CHLOE GUIDED ASH through the woods, circling around to the top of the rise behind the building, just beyond the line of motion sensors. After crossing a small clearing, she walked on for another dozen feet, then stopped under the cover of the trees.
Without a word, she got on her knees and started digging. At first Ash couldn’t figure out what she could possibly be doing, but after she removed a thick layer of needles and branches, she exposed a manhole cover.
“Where does it go?” he asked.
“I have no idea. Just thought I’d randomly show it to you.” She stared at him for a second as if he were an idiot. “Where do you think it goes?”
She was right. It was a dumb question.
“How do we get it open?”
“That’s a better question than the last one, at least,” she said.
She got off her knees and walked over to a tree a dozen feet away. Jumping up, she grabbed one of the low branches and pulled herself onto it. She reached to the branch above her and moved her hands around for a moment. When she dropped back to the ground, she was holding a long metal rod that had an L hook at the bottom.
With a smirk, she stuck the hooked end through a hole in the cover and yanked the disk off, surprising Ash with her strength.
He took a step closer and looked down through the opening. The filtered afternoon light was only able to penetrate a few feet into the dark hole, illuminating just the concrete sides of the tube and the first rung of a built-in iron ladder.
He thought for a moment. Perhaps it was now time to part ways with his guide. “Is it just down and follow a tunnel?”
She scoffed. “No, it’s not just down and follow a tunnel.”
“Okay,” he said, revising his plan. “I was just asking.”
Chloe went first, pulling a flashlight out of her pocket he hadn’t known she’d brought along, and he followed. At the bottom was a large, damp tunnel running perpendicular to the entrance tube.
“This leads back to the main building?” he asked.
Chloe grimaced, annoyed. “Do you not listen to me? I already told you it doesn’t.” She huffed out a breath, then said, “Come on.”
She headed to the left, the glow of her flashlight leading the way, then stopped after forty feet and said, “Here.”
She turned her flashlight toward the wall and revealed a big V-shaped break. Ash examined it for a moment. There was an opening through the dirt on the other side of the concrete, not really a tunnel, more of a rift through the earth. Just at the furthest reach of the light he thought he caught a glimpse of more cement.
“This happened during the Loma Prieta earthquake in 1989,” she said. “You know, the one that took down that freeway in San Francisco?”
He vaguely remembered that from when he’d been a kid. “What’s on the other side?”
Instead of answering, she climbed into the rift and started working her way through the cramped space. Ash knew it was going to be even tighter for him, so instead of crawling as she had, he got on his stomach and pulled himself forward.
The distant cement turned out to be a wall, the break in it not a giant V, but a lopsided oval. As he slipped through the opening and got to his feet, he found himself in a wide space that fell quickly off into darkness beyond the spill of the flashlight.
“Welcome to the Palmer Psychiatric Hospital’s special patient facility. Or what’s left of it,” Chloe said.
She moved the flashlight through the room. There were piles of wood and old office furniture and what appeared to be mattresses. Trash was strewn throughout.
“When they tore down the building, they left the basement,” Chloe explained. “They threw some dirt over the top and let the earth reclaim it. Above us is that clearing we walked through.”
“Why leave the basement?” he asked.
“You ask me like I was there. I wasn’t. I do know, though, that they tore the building down not long after the earthquake.” She paused. “You want my guess?”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
“The hospital was still open then. The people who were running it would have known about the tunnel, and probably thought they could still use this place. It’s nice and hidden from the view of anyone. I wouldn’t have put it past them.”
That was a bit on the conspiracy side of things for him, but then again, hadn’t his whole life slipped firmly to the conspiracy side? God, what was happening to him?
“Show me the tunnel into the hospital.”
“Follow me.”
She led him to a door in the far corner. Inside was a staircase leading down.
“There’s two underground levels?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Just the stairs,” she said as she started down. “And the tunnel.”
Directly left of the stairs at the bottom was a wide opening. Chloe shined the light into it, but it revealed nothing more than walls on each side before the darkness took over again.
As she started to walk into it, Ash said, “Wait.”
She turned back.
“This isn’t your fight,” he said. “I appreciate you getting me here, but I think I should go on alone from this point.”
<
br /> She stared at him, then said, “Really? Do you know how to get out of the other end of this tunnel?”
“Is it that hard?”
“It depends on your definition, I guess.”
He shrugged. “If you tell me how to do it, I’ll manage.”
“And what are you going to use for light? You’re not taking my flashlight.”
“Actually, I am,” he said. “You can wait here until I get back.”
She took a step away from him, toward the tunnel. “You want to leave me here in the dark? Are you kidding me?”
“It’ll be safer.”
“Yeah, until I go crazy because I keep hearing things, then I run straight into a wall and knock myself out. I’m sorry, Mr. Not-In-The-Army-Anymore, but no way in hell I’m staying here in the dark.” With that she turned and started down the tunnel.
Once more he found himself in the position of following her.
The tunnel between the buildings was a good six feet wide and at least eight tall, with a gentle downward slope. Ash realized that explained why the stairs from the annex basement had been built. If the tunnel had been dug directly from the main building up to the annex, it would have had a considerably steeper incline.
After they’d gone nearly fifty yards, Chloe whispered, “We’re getting close, so best to stay quiet.”
Ten yards further on, they came to a stop in front of a cinder-block wall that closed off the tunnel.
“I thought you said this went all the way through,” Ash said, feeling suddenly panicky.
“You’re such a downer.”
She knelt by the wall and worked her fingers into the gaps on either side of a block on the bottom row. Within seconds, she slid it out. Peeking through, she shined her light into the opening then sat back up. Four more blocks came out. When she was done, she’d created a hole big enough for them to snake through.
“This was apparently put up when the hospital finally closed. They were supposed to fill in everything on this side of it.” She shrugged. “I guess they didn’t have the money.”
“How did you find out about it?” he asked.
She was silent for a moment. “Matt’s people, when they got me out. They showed me.”
Before he could ask another question, she disappeared through the wall. Ash, left in the dark, had to feel his way down to the opening then slip through and join her. On the other side, the tunnel went on for another twenty feet, then T-boned into a wide corridor.
“Where exactly are we?” he asked.
“This is the main hospital. The part that was built into the side of the hill,” she said. “We’re on the top floor, but still underground.”
Ash tensed. “Where will my kids be?”
“Two floors down,” she said without hesitation.
Once more he thought about leaving her behind, but she’d proved more useful than he’d expected. So instead, he said, “Show me.”
“There are five stairwells,” she told him. “One at each corner, and a fifth along the south wall.” She pointed off to their left. “We’re actually on the fourth floor. Your kids’ll be on the second, in the northeast corner.” As she said this, her jaw clenched a little. She was quiet for a moment. “The quickest way is by either of the north-side stairwells, but there’s an excellent chance the others will hear us before we can even get close.”
“So we use one on the south side,” he said, eager to move.
“Yes, but not one in the corners,” she told him. “The one in the middle. This floor used to be where the doctors’ offices were. The middle stairway is attached to the old hospital director’s office. It was his private way of getting in and out.”
“Fine,” he said impatiently. “Can we just go?”
She glanced at him without moving. “You might want to get your gun ready.”
THE MIDDLE STAIRWAY creaked a bit as they went down, but not enough, Ash hoped, to draw attention. When they reached the closed door at the second floor landing, Chloe stopped and listened.
“I don’t hear anything,” she whispered.
“What’s on the other side?”
“An examination room. Or at least I think that’s what it used to be.”
“Do they use it?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “There was a stack of old wheelchairs there when I came through. That was about it. They only use a small area in the back of the building. ”
As she reached for the door handle, Ash grabbed her arm, stopping her.
“I’ll go first.”
Holding the SIG in one hand, he grabbed the knob with his other and eased the door open.
Indirect sunlight filtered into the examining room from a window on the south wall, providing more than enough illumination to see the stack of wheelchairs Chloe had mentioned. From the dust on the floor it was clear no one had been through here in a long time. Ash stepped inside, and moved quickly across the room to the main door. There was only silence on the other side.
He hesitated for a moment, then turned to Chloe. “There’s light here. If you want, you can wait until I come back.”
She raised an eyebrow. “If I want? You’re not telling me to stay?”
Shaking his head, he said, “It’s up to you.”
“Let’s go, then. You’re going to need me.”
He nodded reluctantly, then opened the door. The hallway on the other side was dark, but not pitch-black like the tunnel or the basement. The scant bit of illumination was courtesy of sunlight spilling out of a couple open doors to the left.
“I assume we go right?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Mind if I carry the flashlight now?”
She hesitated for a moment, then handed it to him.
The hallway got darker and darker as they headed back into the section that was embedded in the mountain. There were doors along both sides. The few that were open led into rooms that Ash sensed hadn’t been used in decades.
They’d been going for just over a minute when Chloe touched his back and pointed ahead at an opening to another hallway. He stopped at the corner, listened, then peered around it. There was a very dim light at the far end, but that was it.
“If they’re here, that’s the part of the building where they’ll be.”
If…
He was beginning to wonder. So far there had been no sign of anyone else in the building. Surely by now, they would have heard at least one of these mysterious people who were supposed to have his children. It was just too damn quiet. The condition of the building didn’t help his mind, either. It was a dump. Why would they have brought his kids here in the first place?
He turned down the hall, knowing the only way to find out for sure was to keep going.
Silence continued to reign as they got closer and closer to the other end. With each new step, Ash couldn’t help but think that Matt’s information must have been wrong. There was no way anyone was here. He moved all the way to the end of the hall, then stopped for another check.
Stone. Dead. Silence.
Even in places with just a few people around, there was always a sense of others. Ash didn’t have that sense now.
He stepped out into the intersecting hallway without checking first, knowing no one would be there. And he was right.
“We’re alone,” he said, not bothering to whisper. “Matt was wrong. They’re not here.”
Chloe was more tentative as she stepped out to join him. She looked one way down the hallway, then the other, her face full of confusion. “He was sure of it. I know he was.”
“Maybe he was just—” He stopped himself and shook his head.
“Just what?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you mean? Just what?”
“I didn’t mean anything, okay?”
She stared at him, obviously waiting for more. When he remained quiet, she said, “I’d be dead if it wasn’t for Matt and Rachel. There’s no question about it. And you’d be dead, too, i
f they hadn’t changed how you look and given you a new name. So if you’re questioning whether Matt was lying to you or not, don’t. He wasn’t. He never would.”
Without another word, she turned and walked down the hallway to the right, fading into the black.
“Are you coming?” she called out. “I can’t see anything without the flashlight.”
“What’s down there?” he asked.
“If your kids were here, they would have been kept down this way. We should check.”
Doubting they’d find anything, he walked down the hall and joined her.
Thirty-Four
WITHIN FIFTEEN MINUTES of being posted online, video of what appeared to be two teenagers murdered by soldiers somewhere within the quarantine zone had been picked up by several blogs, and spread through the Internet via Twitter, Facebook and a half dozen other social networking sites.
Its first television appearance was on a German network, thirty-five minutes later. Another hour passed before the American networks finally started showing the footage. While some immediately dismissed it as phony, others pointed not only to the effort that would have been needed to intentionally create something like it, but also to the footage’s incredible realism.
Network researchers worked feverishly to find out who had posted the video. The account had an ID made up of numbers and letters that, on the surface, meant nothing to anyone. When the video-hosting site was contacted, they denied requests for the user’s true identity, citing privacy guidelines. The only information that had been uploaded with the video was the line: Shot by my friend this morning in the Mojave quarantine zone, so sad!
While the search for the poster was going on, the Army vehemently denied any connection to the events in the video. They, too, pushed the idea that the footage was staged.
The breakthrough came in the form of a phone call from a teenage girl named Frances Newcombe of Ridgecrest, inside the quarantine zone, to her cousin John working at Glitz, an entertainment-focused cable channel based in Los Angeles. John was a producer on the long-running show Tinseltown Tales, which, in his case, meant he spent most of his time in edit bays making sure the shows were fast-paced, exciting, and made at least a little sense.
The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 1: Books 1 - 3 (Sick, Exit 9, & Pale Horse) Page 19