“You know, I think you’re right,” Sam whispered. “I should’ve knocked you out in the car. Are you trying to get us caught?”
“Perhaps if you told me the plan, dear?”
“I told you already. I just want to see if we can get a closer look at the facility without going through the front door.”
“That’s not really a plan, is it? Besides, didn’t you see that fence? Don’t you think it goes around the whole place?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I want to see. Now keep quiet, we’re getting close to the back.”
Sam stood in the shelter of the trees and looked out onto a small field. One hundred yards farther on, an eight-foot-high chain link fence protected the entire rear of the facility. Beth stepped beside her. “What do you know?” she said, wheezing. “A fence.”
“Shhh. Do you see any surveillance cameras?”
Beth shook her head.
“Me neither, but we’re pretty far away.”
Another field an acre in size lay between the fence and the rear of the facility. This field had been further divided by chain link into several large sections. Each section included a long wooden structure. What were those? Sam wondered. Chicken coops? No. She could not fool herself and simply turn away. She knew what they were.
Dog kennels.
Sam left the cover of the trees and stepped out into the open field.
Beth grabbed for her. “What the hell are you doing? You’re not wearing your invisibility cloak.”
Sam kept walking forward. She needed to know.
“And they say my judgment is impaired,” Beth muttered, and went after her.
Sam broke into a run and didn’t stop until she met the fence. The dogs jumped out of their shelters to greet her. Twenty-five dogs—mostly beagles and beagle mixes—leaped against the fence. They lifted their heads to howl and bark at their surprise visitor but the result was a cacophony of silence.
Sam saw the scars on their mutilated throats. Such cruelty no longer surprised her—she had actually seen worse on some of the dogs at her own shelter—but familiarity didn’t make the discovery any less horrifying. She laced her fingers through the chain links partly to offer the victims some painless human contact and partly to hold herself up, because she felt her legs turning rubbery.
Beth reached the fence. “Are you crazy?” she asked breathlessly. “We need to get out of here before the dogs… wait… Why aren’t they barking?”
Sam didn’t answer. She had already returned in her mind to her father’s office on the day of her graduation. She knew that those particular dogs were long gone from this earth, but she also knew with equal certainty that these dogs were the current consequence of that same unbroken line of humanity gone wrong. The Devil in human form. Sam had no doubt that somewhere William Ralph Inge was nodding knowingly.
Sam had never tried to save her father’s dogs. That failure haunted her. This time she swore it would be different.
“Christ,” Beth said when she saw the scars. “That is seriously fucked up. But we’ve got to get out of here.” She attempted to tug Sam back toward the woods.
Sam wouldn’t move. “I’m going in.”
“OK, but let’s go back and at least think of a plan.”
“No more plans, Beth. I’m going over the fence.”
Beth eyed the chain link fence and shook her head. “Do you have any idea how much I weigh? What in our brief relationship together makes you think I can physically accomplish that?”
“You can’t come with me.”
“Would you stop with that already? I’ve got a plan. Trust me.” Beth again pulled Sam and this time she gave in.
“What’s the plan?” Sam asked as she followed.
“I’ll create a distraction. I’m good at distractions.”
10
Gabriel stood in the back of the florist truck trying to control the strays with a combination of meat from Andy’s pack and pleading. A terrier type ran through the legs of three large dogs on one side of the truck while a shepherd mix howled on the other. A Labrador-something left a steaming pile in the middle of the floor and Gabriel was trying to clean it up as best as he could with paper towels and one hand while holding the phone in the other.
Noise control was going to be the key. Luke had padded the walls of the truck with gym mats borrowed from the preschool next to his daughter’s flower shop. When they had tested the mats earlier, the padding had seemed generally effective in keeping the noise inside the truck. The problem, however, was that the padding kept the noise inside the truck. Gabriel’s head was already pounding and the truck was still at the curb.
Gabriel dialed his phone. “We’re ready to move. You ready for us?”
Greg answered at the shelter. “We’ll be waiting.”
Luke slid open the small divider between the truck cab and the back. “You set back there?” he asked.
“Just waiting for a confirmed all clear from Sid,” Gabriel said.
“I just spoke to him three minutes ago. We’re good.”
“Let’s wait a sec. I don’t want to drive right into something.”
“Starting to get hot out here. We’re out of time. I’m pulling out,” Luke told him. “You better hold on to something.” Without waiting for further protest from Gabriel, Luke pulled away from the sidewalk.
The dogs in the back initially quieted at the truck’s movement, but once the truck picked up speed, the dogs lost their momentary restraint and began to bark and howl as the truck headed toward the perimeter and the shelter.
Gabriel dialed again and reached Sid, stationed at a traffic light post three blocks from the shelter.
“I’m checking in,” Gabriel said.
“You already did.”
“I’m doing it again. Any sign of the Guard?”
“And I’m just keeping it from you?”
“Don’t be a smartass, Sidney.”
“The militia seems to be preoccupied at the perimeter for the moment.”
“That could change, and anything coming to the shelter from the perimeter would need to pass your way.”
“I know. Trust me: you’ll be the first to know if it does.”
“Don’t get distracted.”
“I won’t if you stop calling me. Are you ready?”
“I doubt it,” Gabriel said, and signed off.
Gabriel jammed his cell phone into his pocket, put out a hand against the wall to steady himself, and turned to face the dogs. “Work with me.” As if in response, a black Lab mix jumped on Gabriel and pushed him to the floor, where he narrowly missed the pile of shit.
“So did you ever hear the one about the rabbi, the priest, and the dog?”
Gabriel looked up from the floor and saw Channa leaning casually against the side of the truck, suppressing a laugh.
“Not yet. Do I need to?” he asked, slowly rising to his feet.
“You might find it of interest given your present state of mind.”
“Then by all means.”
“So this priest and this rabbi die and go to heaven.”
“Funny so far.”
Channa ignored him. “They’re waiting in line at the pearly gates to speak with God. But there’s a dog ahead of them. God appears and says to the three of them, ‘Tell me what you’ve done to make me smile.’ The priest says—”
“Of course the priest speaks first—”
“Do you want to hear it or not?”
“Sorry, go ahead,” Gabriel said.
“So the priest says, ‘I have been true to Your spirit and sought to bring comfort to everyone I met.’”
“And the rabbi?”
“I was getting to that. The rabbi says, ‘I have been true to Your heart and sought to carry out Your will on earth.’ God smiles at them and moves aside to let the three of them pass. Once they cross over, the priest says, ‘Excuse me, Heavenly Father, but what did the dog say in answer to your question?’ And God says in surprise, ‘I thought you were
speaking for him.’ So the rabbi says, ‘Excuse me, Heavenly Father, but if You thought we were speaking on behalf of the dog, why did You just let us through?’ And God says, getting annoyed now, ‘I told you, I thought you were speaking for him.’”
“Thank you for the inspiration, dear,” Gabriel said. “But I would have preferred a cigarette and two fingers of Scotch.”
Gabriel reached down to remove one of the dogs humping his leg. When he glanced up, Channa was gone, as he’d expected.
Gabriel felt the truck begin to slow and then music blasted all other thoughts out of his head.
Luke was implementing his plan.
They had confirmed through about seven prior test runs that the Guard was not checking vehicles entering the perimeter for dogs. Still, the line into the quarantine area was slow because of all the rubbernecking. This was where the dog noise could hurt them the most. The gym mats were useful, but they couldn’t take any chances. Luke had promised that he had a plan. “In Jimi we trust,” he’d said.
Gabriel now understood what he had meant.
A block before the perimeter, Luke opened the windows of the truck cab, put his Jimi Hendrix Electric Ladyland CD into the truck’s player, found the fifteenth track—“All Along the Watchtower”—and turned the volume to the max. Jimi’s guitar and ghostly voice reverberated off the surrounding buildings.
“Hey!” Gabriel heard one Guard shout above the music. “Do we all need to hear that crap?”
Luke added his own surprisingly melodious voice to Jimi’s. They picked up speed again as Luke continued singing with the CD.
They were free of the perimeter. Or more accurately, Gabriel thought, they were now trapped inside it.
11
Wait here.” The big man with the crew cut and reflective aviator shades shook his head disapprovingly as he closed the heavy metal door on his exit.
Sam quickly scanned the room. It looked like a break room or perhaps a presentation room—a long metal table, a few uncomfortable chairs, a projection screen at the front of the room, and a podium. There were no computers and, more importantly, no phones.
“East Harlem,” Sam said.
“What?” Beth asked.
“That was Judge Allerton’s other option for you. I could’ve let you serve your sentence working with the crack addicts, hookers, and pimps in East Harlem. But no, I had to try to do the right thing.”
“Don’t get all bitchy,” Beth protested. “It wasn’t my fault. Did you really think there wouldn’t be security?”
“You said you had a plan. That you would create a distraction,” Sam insisted.
“I did create a distraction,” Beth shot back.
“Asking Crew Cut out there about his feelings toward his mother is not a distraction.”
“It is where I come from. A man’s relationship with his mother is one of the most powerful and complicated influences on his life.”
“Just stop talking,” Sam snapped.
That worked for a second. Then Beth said, “What do you think Morgan is really up to?”
“I don’t know. Whatever it is, we’re losing time to figure out if it’s got anything to do with what’s going on in Manhattan.” And, she thought, to figure out if we have any chance of stopping the cull.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure the cops will be here pretty soon. Crew Cut mentioned criminal trespass. I wonder what class of felony that is. Well, at least you’ll get to see how the other half lives.”
“Could you be any less helpful?”
“The day is still young,” Beth said.
Sam tried the door handle and then shoved the door hard with her shoulder. It didn’t move.
“Is it locked?” Beth asked.
Sam rubbed her shoulder in an attempt to restore feeling. “Gee, you think so?”
“I never said I was good at this spy business. When I hear the word commando I think of going out without underwear, not breaking into some research facility.”
“You know what I like about you, Beth?”
“No, what?”
“It isn’t a quiz. I thought maybe you’d know.”
“See? The fat girl is always the first one attacked.”
Sam sat down across from Beth and upended her bag on the table.
Beth looked at her quizzically. “You’re cleaning out your purse?”
“I’m trying to see what kind of resources we have. They took the phone, but they didn’t look too hard, so maybe…” Sam looked through the contents with an expanding feeling of helplessness—a few Tampax, tissues, gum, car keys, a wallet, and some loose cash. Nothing doing. She returned the items to her bag. “You have anything?”
Beth reached into her pocket and pulled out a few singles, a pack of gum, and an empty Tic Tac container. She reached into her other pocket. “Hold on. I think I’ve got something.” She pulled out some paper clips and proudly showed them to Sam.
“OK, MacGyver, what do you think you’re gonna do with those?”
“Just observe and learn.” Beth straightened two paper clips as she moved to the door. She inserted one into the lock and then the second. Sam watched closely as Beth confidently jiggled and rotated the clips. “The key to picking a lock like this…,” Beth said smugly.
“Is getting a locksmith?”
“No. Is that you must… ow! Ow! Ow!” Beth whipped her hand back and inspected the drop of blood on her finger where the paper clip had poked her. “I’m bleeding.” She ran over to Sam and displayed the tiny speck of blood.
“Just come clean, Beth. You were sent here to destroy my mind, weren’t you?”
“Hey, did I mention that I’m bleeding here?”
Crew Cut returned with a large file folder and a legal pad.
“So nice to see you again,” Beth said.
“You can make this easier on all of us if you would answer a few questions before the police arrive.”
“And where are our friendly police officers?” Sam said. “I’ve got a few things I’d like to tell them about the way we’ve been treated.”
Crew Cut smiled. It wasn’t pleasant. “You know how it is. We’re a pretty small town. Our police need to cover a good deal of ground. It may be a little while before they can get here. No rush, now that you are secure.”
That didn’t sound right to Sam. The cops should have already been here. Unless… Sam looked over to Beth and guessed that she was having the same thought.
“And how can we be helpful?” Beth asked.
“Why were you trying to enter this facility?”
“We told you. We were just looking for a bathroom,” Sam said.
“Cut the crap,” Crew Cut demanded. “Who are you working for?”
“Really?” Beth chuckled into her hand.
“Something funny?” Crew Cut asked.
“I just thought I’d go my entire life without hearing someone actually use that phrase for real.” Beth eyed her interrogator. “Where were you trained? Dragnet?”
“You’re not helping, Beth,” Sam complained.
“Agri-Vet?” Crew Cut volunteered. “It’s them, right? When will you people learn? There’s a reason they’re called trade secrets, you know?”
So Crew Cut either had not spoken with Morgan yet or Morgan was pretending she didn’t know them. “I guess we should tell him the truth before this gets out of hand,” Sam suggested.
“Your call, sweetie,” Beth answered.
“OK, look, we’re actually investigative reporters,” Sam said.
“Pulitzer Prize–winning, by the way,” Beth added.
“We work for the New York Times.”
“Have you heard of them?” Beth asked.
Sam took the ball back from Beth and ran with it. “We’re investigating Morgan. We know the kind of shit you’ve been doing here. Cholera toxin is the least of it. My editors will have this place swarming with lawyers any minute if you don’t let us go. And of course I’ll need the correct spelling of your name for the story.”<
br />
Crew Cut leaned into Sam’s face. “You’re investigative reporters like I’m a ballerina.”
“I’ve been wondering,” Beth said. “How is it that you learn to dance on pointe?”
“You won’t think this is so funny when you’re in the backseat of a squad car.”
Sam ignored the threat. “Tell Morgan we’ll only speak directly to her. Otherwise we’ll just wait for the cops.”
12
Andy arrived at the spot on the edge of the Lake that he thought of as “theirs”—the place that had first heard their music.
It was deserted. He tried to choke down his panic. This was his one shot to find her. If he had guessed wrong, he wouldn’t be able to double back. There was no time. They’d both be done.
Andy pulled his violin case from his backpack and quickly removed the instrument and his bow. His first notes were horribly off, hesitant and jumbled. He was too nervous, although he never became nervous when he played.
He counted to three in his head, closed his eyes, and then moved the bow across the violin once more. This time the sound was different—long, sinuous tones eventually gave birth to a fast-moving melody that surged skyward out of his violin. Andy knew this was a beautiful refrain. It had to be, because this was their composition. Whenever he played this part of the piece, he thought for some reason of angels having sex.
Andy opened his eyes and she was there, sitting on her haunches staring into the growing darkness on the water. He stopped playing and the dog turned to look at him. There was something so lost and sorrowful in the dog’s expression that Andy almost dropped to his knees as he remembered.
Alexa had made it to the Lake that night, more than halfway to their cavern. But so had someone else. Blood from two stab wounds to her chest… her gray face… her right ear gone—torn or bitten off… ripping off his shirt and stuffing it into her ugly wounds… seeing all the blood that had already left her body seeping into the ground.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered into the disfigured ear.
That was where the police found them. Andy screamed when they took her body out of the park. Only her bloodstain remained.
Just Life Page 25