Thierry’s eyes went to his sister. He hesitated for a long moment and then and then rubbed his face. “Yeah. Let me join you.”
Chapter 7
Finally alone. Jared tied his new running shoes, thankful for the gift the girls had bought him on one of their last shopping sprees. He hadn’t truly worked out in months and he missed the dingy smell of the hotel’s workout rooms where he frequented the elliptical machine. He stepped out into the hallway and tried to decide on an underground jogging route.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had even a few minutes to himself. Sure the mine was huge, but there was always some chore that needed to be done, Caroline to attend to, or some new groupie to tour around.
With a base that was run by women, one would think the sexism would be down to a minimum. But it wasn’t. In fact it seemed to be worse than ever. If there was a need for heavy lifting, they called in the guys. If something mechanical or electrical broke down, they called in the guys. If there weren’t enough of those activities to go around, they put Jared on housekeeping duty. Playing Mr. Mom to a bunch of young women who never properly learned to clean up after themselves was getting old.
Jared jogged into the grand hallway. It was empty. The only time he’d ever seen the mine this empty was when the girls were out running errands or trying to find other Shines. He took a left in the main corridor and kept running.
An unusual dark line in the middle of the wall caught his attention. As he got closer, he realized the shadow was coming through a door’s seam. The doorway to the surface, was it ajar? Had the girls left it open when they went up for groceries? He inched toward the door listening for footsteps, voices, or the rattling of the stairwell. Nothing.
This door was never open. Only a handful of girls had the key.
Moving closer, he imagined the stairway he’d occasionally heard of, but never seen. The hinges squeaked as if he’d opened a century old chest. Jared spun around. Had someone heard him? Nothing. The video camera that normally filmed the hallway was missing.
This was it, the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He slipped through the opening, stuffed a roll of Lifesavers in the door-jam, turned, and sprinted for the stairs.
His body slammed into a five-foot tall metal cage at the base of the staircase. The impact sent a twang up the adjoining cable. What the heck? Jared thought as he peeled himself off the floor and held the metal cage firm, praying that no one had heard him. The metal cage was a dumb-waiter, an elevator centered in the middle of the stairwell that was probably used to bring in supplies.
After deciding a free ride would be too noisy, he took off up the spiral staircase trying to minimize the sounds from his shoes. With each step he imagined getting closer to Caroline. If his plans worked out, they would only be down in the mine a few more days. And shortly thereafter, his daughter would be cured. Her autism wiped out. They would finally be able to have a conversation.
His thighs burned and his breath grew rapid. The stairway seemed to go on forever, spiraling story after story toward the surface. No wonder all of the girls in the mine stayed so thin. The air started to lose its salty taste and up above, he could see a rectangle of light.
He climbed the steps, holding his side, cursing the love handles that were bulging over his belt line. One way or another, he had to get more exercise. The final turn of the staircase didn’t give him enough room to stand, so he crouched down on his knees. His fingers followed along the lighted ridge tracing the rectangular outline. It was a huge metal plate. On the right side he felt a series of hinges, a vertical trap door.
Jared put his ear to the metal, but all he could hear was his own labored breath. He stilled himself. In the midst of the silence, he thought he heard shouts of joy from his daughter, followed by the moans of disappointment and betrayal from his new-found friends. Frenchie, Shinal, and Lola were all begging him not to do it. Not to sell them out. He paused for a minute and peered down the spiral staircase at the thick cable that descended down its center.
This was not the time to get sentimental over a bunch of girls he’d met just a few months ago. It was time to reverse both his and Caroline’s misfortunes. To cure her autism and finally live up to the promises he made his wife before she left him.
He slowly pushed open the panel. This time the hinges were silent. The door opened easily. He scrambled up through the opening and waited for his eyes to adjust.
A small office. He crept to the doorway and saw the graffiti-covered tractor where Juliet and the other Shines had first found them. An old skylight above provided the only light to the room.
Jared whipped the homemade transmitter out of his pocket and typed furiously:
Detroit. Salt Mines. Warehouse. Metal panel in the floor near the office. Confirm.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Confirm. Come and get us.”
The decaying metal doors at the far end of the warehouse screeched open. A sliver of light broke up the shadows.
Jared dove to the ground and rolled back over to the panel he’d left open.
Female voices and the whining wheels of an old grocery cart skidded across the empty warehouse.
He didn’t recognize the distant voices, nor could he hear what they were saying, but he didn’t have time to. Jared flung his legs into the opening, lowered his body down onto the staircase, and closed the panel.
He sprinted down the stairs, taking two or three steps at a time, supporting his weight on the handrails to cushion each stride.
The soft light from the door below hadn’t changed; it was still open just a sliver. He could make it. The girls were probably a few minutes from the opening and would have to wait for the engine to hoist up the elevator and bring down their supplies. He wiped the sweat from his brow, only three stories to go.
Jared slipped. His knee hyper-extended and gave way. His sweaty hands slid from the handrail and he somersaulted forward.
The back of his head slammed into the stairs, ringing against the metal structure as if it were a giant gong. Again he somersaulted, but this time with more speed. He grabbed the railing to stop his momentum and was rewarded with a sharp yank and a partial dislocation of his shoulder. His other hand grabbed onto the staircase during the next somersault, and finally he stopped.
Dazed, Jared stared up at the dark ceiling. A hand went to his throbbing head, his fingers came away crimson. Blood had pooled on the step and was dripping down through the open staircase. Keeping pressure on his head, Jared moved his neck around and closed his eyes, taking a few moments to remember where he was.
The passageway at the top of the staircase opened. The light smacked him across the face.
Blocking the bright light with his left hand, he tried to make out who was up top. When he heard the elevator start, he got to his feet. The engine should mask his movements. He staggered down the staircase with a hand holding his head.
The staircase seemed to be spinning and his reflexes were sluggish. Every step required him to have a solid hold of the railing or he would fall again. The girl’s voices were getting louder. If it weren’t for the constant ringing in his ears he might have understood what they were saying.
When Jared reached the bottom, the girls were halfway down the staircase. He grabbed his roll of Lifesavers from the door jam and slid them into his pocket. Then he slipped out of the stairwell. That’s when he noticed it was missing. The transmitter was gone. He’d either left it up top or on the blood-covered step.
Chapter 8
Lola brushed her hand through her hair and resisted the urge to pull out every strand. She rolled her eyes across the room. Rough rock spotted with dirty salt patches peppered the walls of the 12x12 room. The only deviation was the steel door closed behind her. “Ok, let’s try one more time,” she said.
Caroline stared at her with a grin that belonged on a snowman. Her hands flapped and then clapped; dropping the metal pipe they’d been working with. The four-foot section of pipe clanged off the ground, and rol
led against the wall near the few snacks they’d brought, the only other items in the room.
Three hours of lessons, and getting Caroline to pick up the pipe and hold it in front of her was Lola’s pinnacle achievement. Lola rolled her eyes and tried to hide her frustration from Caroline as she waddled over to the wall to pick up the pipe. The poor girl was autistic and mute, but she seemed to pick up and feed off other’s emotions.
As she squatted, Lola’s eight-month pendulous womb strained her bladder, but thankfully didn’t create a new puddle. She was approaching this all wrong. Things had to be changed. Lola stayed in the squatting position while she scooped up a handful of ice from a bucket of sodas and munched on them like chips. It only took a half-minute for her wet hand to get uncomfortably cold forcing her to wipe it off on her shirt.
Before her hand could warm, she grabbed the bar, another handful of ice cubes, and walked over next to Caroline. She handed Caroline a few of the ice cubes.
Caroline dropped the ice and jumped back a step, eyes wide.
Lola expected the reaction, placed a few more ice cubes in Caroline’s hand, and this time she held them there. “Do you feel how cold the ice is?”
Water dripped onto the floor. Caroline’s face contorted into a painful frown as she tried to squirm her fingers away from the ice and out of Lola’s grip.
Lola held Caroline’s hand and the ice firmly together. “It’s cold, like ice cream, or a popsicle.”
Caroline stopped squirming. The food reference seemed to calm her.
Lola gave an excited smile. Maybe she could offer her some kind of a reward. One of her favorites. “You like popsicles don’t you, Caroline?”
She smiled and tried to clap her hands.
“Can you make that pipe cold like this ice?”
Caroline stared at her hands and then back at Lola. Her face started to get hard again, her lower lip quivering.
“Can you make it cold like a popsicle?” Lola asked. “If you can, tomorrow I’ll go top side and get you one. What kind do you want? Maybe one of those creamsicles that mixes an orange popsicle with vanilla ice cream.”
Caroline glanced down at her hands. The ice cube had melted into a glacier the size of a Tic-Tac. She dropped the ice and grabbed onto the ends of the metal pipe in Lola’s other hand.
Lola held the pipe firm.
Caroline’s face scrunched up and her eyes squinted. Her hands tightened around the pipe and she seemed ready to rip it away from Lola all together.
“Good, Caroline. Focus. Make it cold like a popsicle.”
Caroline grunted, “I’m trying,” like she was lifting a 500 pound weight.
Lola stared at her dumbfounded. Did Caroline just speak? She was mute. She’d never spoken before. These were her first words. Ever. Lola must have imagined it.
“Awe,” Lola screamed. The pipe all of a sudden felt like she was holding lava. She dropped it, after having already smelt the charred flesh.
Caroline’s skin didn’t seem to be disintegrating as Lola’s had, but her face looked as if she’d just been scolded. She stared at the door, at Lola, and then back at the pole. “Help!” she shrieked as she slammed the pipe to the ground, stumbled backwards, and fell back cracking her head on the floor. The glowing pipe bounced off the floor and smashed into Lola’s shin. Jumping away, Lola twisted her ankle, her knees collapsed, and she fell toward the floor arms stiff and ready to cradle her belly. Once she was on the ground, she kicked the crimson iron pipe away from the two of them.
Caroline was on the ground, rolling around, screaming in agony. “I hate you,” she yelled. Her left forearm was bent at an oblique angle and an expanding puddle of blood was oozing across the floor from a gash that must have been on the back of her head.
Lola grabbed the bucket of ice and dumped it next to Caroline’s head. Kneeling on the ice, she located the gash on Caroline’s head and then held a handful of ice firmly against Caroline’s scalp. The warm blood melted the ice, but after a few moments of pressure, the bleeding slowed.
Lola’s jeans warmed. The ice beneath her legs melted faster. Lola knew that Caroline’s powers were once again out of control. Luckily there were no drapes or end tables to catch fire like they had at her aunt’s house. The room was huge and near empty, chosen to disperse the damage in case this very thing happened. But the two girls wouldn’t last long.
Lola scrambled to her feet only to have her ankle give way. The burn on her leg throbbed. The ankle felt like the last time she played little league soccer. The last time she did any real kind of physical activity. Third-degree sprain.
Caroline grunted and squirmed around on the floor. “Help me. Please help me,” she wailed.
Lola kept pressure on the back of Caroline’s head while trying to force herself to slow down. Jared was the only one who could calm Caroline. Hopefully her screams would bring him in. If they didn’t get help soon, the place would turn into an oven.
Her eyes went straight back to the autistic, mute teenager. “Caroline,” Lola demanded in a slow, calm voice trying to position her face directly in front of her friend.
The ground seemed to be heating up like a frying pan. Caroline whipped her head from side to side.
Lola cradled Caroline’s head and neck, unwilling to let the girl exacerbate a neck injury. “Caroline,” she repeated.
Their eyes met. Caroline’s thrashing slowed.
“Caroline, can you understand me?”
Caroline nodded, grunted, and then squirmed. “Yes,” she cried with her right hand clamped on her left arm.
Lola eased her grip. “Good. Can you take a deep breath for me? I need you to calm down before you start another fire.”
Caroline looked toward the doorway, then toward the pipe. Her body tensed.
“No, Caroline. Stay with me,” Lola said, as she tried to remain her friend’s sole focal point. “Watch me and breathe like I do.” Lola took a deep breath and then exhaled in three short breathes before repeating the Lamaze exercise.
Caroline followed her breathing through two exhalations.
“Good,” Lola said. “I know it hurts. But I need you to stay calm and still. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Caroline grunted. “My, arm. Is it broken?”
The forearm was bent at an unnatural angle. The middle of the bone bulged into the skin. The fracture was almost compound. “It looks like it,” Lola said. “But it’s nothing Charmin can’t fix. Just keep breathing with me until we get out of here.”
Jared rushed into the room, crouched, and threw his arms around his daughter. “It’s okay. Charmin’s coming. Everything’s going to be all right.” He took a syringe from his pocket. “I’m going to give you a little shot to help you calm down.”
Caroline stiffened. “No. No needles,” she grunted, and flapped, and tried to wriggle away from her father.
Jared told Lola to hold her still why he uncapped the needle.
“Jared, she said no,” Lola said. “She’s calmed down. No more needles. Right, Caroline?”
Caroline nodded. “No needles.”
Jared stared at Lola, awestruck.
Charmin and Juliet arrived with two gurneys. After they helped the wide-eyed, half-panicked Caroline onto a backboard and then the gurney, Charmin motioned for Jared to help Lola.
A few feet away, Lola sat on the floor awaiting the help. But Jared stared after his daughter, and then took a step to follow her.
“Jared,” Lola called. “A little help, please.”
He looked down at her, his mind still in some kind of daze. A few seconds later, he shook his mind clear, scooped Lola off the ground, and placed her on the second gurney.
They went down the hall in silence. Lola closed her eyes and comforted her baby, checked the little one’s vitals, and then picked at her sticky red hands.
Jared asked something in a whisper.
Lola couldn’t make it out. Her adrenalin was fading, leaving her with a throbbing leg and ankle. She shoved the pai
n to the side and cracked open her eyes to see what was needed.
“How did you do it?” Jared asked again.
She wasn’t sure what he was referring to. He had to repeat the question a third time before she fully understood the words. “Do what?” she asked.
“I saw you,” Jared said. “You spoke to Caroline. You were speaking her language: grunting, facial expressions, arm flapping, and all.”
Chapter 9
The blank walls of the hallway reminded Frenchie of a mental institution, or those that she’d seen on TV anyways. It was quieter than a library and everything was stale and clean. She walked down the halls without seeing anyone, which only made the isolation feel worse, like she was back home in Kentucky, being alienated by her father. At least, when she was rehabbing her amputated leg, she had someone to work with, someone to help her, someone to talk to. And now they were gone. Something about a trip to save some Shines further west.
Frenchie wheeled into the infirmary. At least there would be someone to talk to in there.
The place looked almost as vacant as the rest of the facility. Charmin must’ve been on break. Instead of seeing Thierry by his sister’s side, they were in their own beds. Frenchie peered around the sheet that surrounded his bed.
Thierry was asleep with his head propped up on a folded pillow, his jeans folded up on the side chair. His lips had lost a bit of their color, but at least he wasn’t snoring like her previous boyfriend. Her hope of a little one-on-one time with Thierry wasn’t going to happen tonight. But maybe she could get away with a tiny peek under the sheets.
She wheeled in a little closer and noticed his outstretched hand, reaching for Janice just a few feet away, desperate and determined to help her in any way that he could. Even in his sleep, Thierry was trying to protect her. A tear crept into Frenchie’s eye. She turned away.
What would it be like to love or be loved by someone like that? Willing to give up your whole world for a simple smile. While in her salon, Frenchie had heard a lot of love stories and heartbreak, but nothing like this. Nothing like what Thierry had put himself through to save Janice.
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