The Music of the Machine (The Book of Terwilliger 2)

by Michael Stiles

  “You like the dark way or the light way?” said Rayfield.

  “I like dark,” said Joy, giving him a saucy wink. That was fine with him; darker was better as far as he was concerned.

  The left tunnel turned out to be a dead end, but it was a dead end worth finding. It broadened out and ended at two wide doors made of steel, spaced ten or twelve feet apart. Rayfield looked back over his shoulder once, just to make sure they were alone. Then he set his metal bar in the corner and tried pulling on the handle on the first door to the left. The door resisted at first, then opened slowly with a noise like an angry dinosaur. The hinges, he saw, were caked with rust. He only got it open about two inches before he had to stop. The noise echoed for a painfully long time. Rayfield waited, breathing heavily and sweating. Opening that door two inches had taken every bit of strength he had.

  “Do you think anybody heard?” said Joy.

  “Nah,” said Rayfield, trying to sound upbeat. “Maybe try the middle door.” That one, at least, didn’t look rusty.

  Joy set down her bat and pulled on the handle. The door opened easily. Inside it was black as pitch. “Cold in there,” said Joy.

  Rayfield needed a moment to catch his breath. He wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead and was horrified to see several long, wiry hairs come away his hand. Back near the entrance, when he’d first realized that it was falling out, he had hoped it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Now he couldn’t deny it any longer. It was coming out in clumps, leaving him noticeably thin on top. “Not good,” he muttered.

  “Don’t be afraid of the dark, silly,” said Joy. She went into the cold room and came back out a minute later carrying a bag of flour. “Look, it’s food! Mountains of it. They must be planning on living down here a long time.” Tossing the heavy bag to Rayfield, who caught it with a grunt of effort, she went back into the cooler. Rayfield understood it now: the room was a cooler, placed near the kitchen in a spot where it would benefit from the low temperature underground. No refrigeration necessary.

  Joy was still inside the fridge when Rayfield heard footsteps. He whispered, “Joy, stay put!” Then he eased the door closed with her inside. At least she would be hidden from the blue men in the event that he did not survive the next few minutes.

  They came into view just seconds later, two men in the denim uniform of Nathaniel’s army. Rayfield didn’t wait for them to get ready. He charged them, knocking the taller one to the ground, then scrambled on top and pounded his head against the rock floor until he went limp. The other one gaped at Rayfield with a slack jaw.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Rayfield said, feeling self-conscious about his thinning hair. The Horseman turned to run, forcing Rayfield to chase him up the dark tunnel. He had little strength left, and the blue man outran him easily. Rayfield leaned against the wall with his head in his hands and cursed, then cursed again when two large clumps of hair came loose in his hands. Only then did he remember that he had a weapon that would have been useful, if he’d just thought of it.

  Joy was very cold and quite displeased with him when he finally went back to open the door. There was no handle on the inside; she’d been locked inside with no way to get out. “I was sure I was going to die in there,” she said in a forlorn voice. Rayfield had never seen her so hopeless.

  They worked together to drag the unconscious Horseman inside the cooler. Joy had found a large cache of candy bars in there as well, so they had a snack. Rayfield ate a Chunky bar and Joy had a Mounds. Just as they were closing the cooler door, the hum suddenly changed. Rayfield had become used to the sound of it, sapping his strength away as it droned on. Now it swelled in volume and suddenly rose to a high pitch. When it reached its greatest intensity, an image formed inside Rayfield’s mind. Looking at Joy, he could tell that she saw it too. It was a picture of his own face. The fleeing man had somehow transmitted Rayfield’s likeness to everyone within range of the hum.

  “Guess they know we’re here,” said Rayfield.

  “That should make it interesting!” Joy said, trying to sound like her cheerful self. But Rayfield could tell her heart wasn’t in it. “Rayfield,” she said as the smile left her face, “I should’ve listened to you and stayed at the house.”

  Rayfield squeezed her shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to be down here without you, Bunnykins.”

  “Will you take me out of here? I can’t do this.”

  He considered this for a moment. Without her, he could move a little faster, and he would only have to worry about protecting himself. But his strength was failing. He scratched his head, coming away with another tuft of hair in his hand that he hid behind his back. “You can do this. I need you.”

  “You don’t need me, Rayfield. I’ll just hold you back.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. That was especially alarming to Rayfield, who had never seen her shed a tear. She was Joy. Joy didn’t cry.

  “It’s just that humming noise messing with your head. Tune it out and you can keep on.”

  “I can’t tune it out. It’s… it’s talking to me. Telling me there’s no hope left and that I should just sit down and stop trying. I’m afraid it’s going to change me. Turn me into one of them.” Rayfield tried to look away, to avoid that despairing look in her eyes, but she took his face in her hands and made him look at her. “Rayfield, take me outside.”

  He couldn’t say no to her. Never could. But this… she would hate him later if he gave in.

  “I don’t want to lose myself, Rayfield. Please.”

  No. He had to say it. No. We have to keep on. But the words wouldn’t come. He was too weak to refuse her. The only thing he could say was, “Okay.”

  But she didn’t hear his answer, because he was drowned out by a rumbling that made the ground shift under his feet. Rayfield had been through a lot of earthquakes. They happened all the time in L.A. and had never bothered him much. It was different, though, when you were underground. The light bulbs flickered and went out, leaving them in total darkness. A shower of pebbles rained down from the ceiling. Joy threw her arms around him, and he wobbled and almost fell. The shaking stopped after a few seconds, leaving the two of them holding each other and coughing in the dark.

  “Rayfield,” said Joy, “listen!”

  “It’s quiet. The quake’s done.”

  “Not that. The hum! It’s stopped!”

  Rayfield cocked his head to one side and listened. “Huh. You’re right.” He stretched his back and took in a deep breath of dust, which set off another fit of coughing. “What now, do you think?”

  “Back up to the fork,” said Joy. “Then we’ll―”

  The lights came on again, flickering before they became steady. The hum started up too, but it was not steady as it had been before. Now it fluctuated randomly, not quite staying on a single note.

  “Must be some kinda backup power,” Rayfield said.

  “But it’s weaker, isn’t it?” Joy looked more hopeful than he’d seen her in a while. “Do you think?”

  “Definitely not as bad.” He did feel a little better; there was still the feeling of his strength being sapped away, but he could stand upright without his knees turning to jelly. With any luck, he wouldn’t go completely bald. “Think you can go a little more?”

  Joy wiped sweat and dust from her forehead. “A little more.”

  “All right!” Rayfield wasn’t sure how long he could keep his strength up, but Joy’s courage made it a little easier. They held hands and set off again, both of them forgetting—perhaps due to the hum—that they had left their weapons behind.

  * * *

  Perla could feel the fog beginning to clear from her mind. The hum was still audible, but the putty in her ears kept out the worst of it. It was a relief to be able to think somewhat clearly again. She stuck close to Flem as he led her down through the tunnels in search of Sarah. Every now and then they passed one of the men in blue. Perla was impressed with Flem’s composure when he looked each one in the eye
and greeted them as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He was just taking his prisoner for a walk; there was nothing unusual to catch anyone’s attention.

  “All men,” Perla said. Her voice was loud in her own head, but Flem couldn’t hear her with the putty in his ears. She tapped his shoulder to get his attention, and he unplugged one ear. Perla said, “Aren’t there any women here? Other than Sarah and me?”

  “Nathaniel’s followers are all men,” said Flem, looking troubled. “There were women with Arthur, though. He had a bunch of girls living in Society House.”

  “Where are they now?”

  Flem grimaced. “Beats me.” He stuck the putty back in his ear and continued on. Perla frowned, not at his answer but at the way he said it. He knew more than he was letting on.

  He seemed quite comfortable navigating the maze, choosing their path without hesitation: first left, then right, then straight through another intersection and left again. This gave Perla some confidence that he might actually have a plan. But her confidence in him began to flag after they walked at least twenty minutes and the scenery didn’t change at all. When she saw the same burned-out light bulb overhead that they had passed earlier, her heart sank. She tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Do you have any idea where you’re going?”

  “Sure,” he replied. “Second left after the utility rooms, then right.” He stopped and looked up and down the hallway, scratching his chin. “But we were here before, weren’t we? I’m confused.” A Horseman walked by, giving him a curious look, but he just glared back until the man went away.

  “The hum is getting to you,” Perla said. “Even with the earplugs.”

  “Yeah,” said Flem. “It does that. When I was first here, I tried to escape a few times. I kept going in circles until I forgot where I was trying to go. I actually found the door once, but then it didn’t seem so important to get out. So I turned back.” He pursed his lips and concentrated hard, until a vein on his forehead began to bulge in a disconcerting way. “I’ve got it,” he said.

  Ten minutes later they came to what appeared to be the entrance to an old mineshaft. The way was narrow and slippery. “Yeah,” Flem said to himself. “Yeah.”

  “You think Sarah’s down here?” Perla asked him.

  “Nope.”

  She stumbled over something on the floor and cursed under her breath. “Then what the hell are we doing here?” She knew the frustration was obvious in her tone, but she was beyond caring.

  “A secret place,” he said. “Just what we need. You’ll love it.”

  “I just want to find Sarah and get out of here. Anything else is a waste of time.”

  “Not this.” Flem stopped next to a massive metal door. “Before I was your jailer, you know what I was?” He waited until Perla shook her head. “I was the maintenance man. And you know what’s great about being a maintenance man? Two things. One, you get to know everybody, and no one notices if you go places where you shouldn’t be. Two, you get to know where everything is. Everything. And they give you keys.” He pulled a small ring of keys out of his jeans pocket and pulled the door open with all his weight. Inside Perla saw only darkness.

  “What’s in there?” she said.

  “This used to be part of the arsenal. You saw it on your way in, right?”

  Perla strained to remember. “I think so.”

  “Well, this is our own little arsenal.”

  He flipped on a light switch just inside the door. The room lit up, not with yellow incandescent light but with a great many white fluorescent bulbs. Perla looked into the huge chamber and grunted out loud at what she saw inside. “I love it,” she said.

  “I told you. Nathaniel likes things that go boom. He collects them because one day he wants to blow up the whole world. So every week, four of his men head over to the arsenal and take some stuff.”

  “They just… take it?” Perla stepped into the room. The ceiling was low, but the room had to be as long as a football field. There were rows of shelves from floor to ceiling, and the shelves were full of weapons. She saw guns, boxes of ammunition, and grenades. There were mortars and rocket launchers and things that Perla couldn’t identify, but they looked deadly.

  “Nathaniel teaches us how to go places without being seen. Somebody could look at you and not even know you’re there. We just grab what we want, right under the soldiers’ noses. It’s the same way we get our groceries.”

  Perla picked up a rifle and examined it.

  “Don’t point it at me.” Flem grabbed the barrel and aimed it at the floor.

  “Do you know how to use all this stuff?”

  Flem picked out a handgun and rummaged around for ammunition. “Some of it. Tinch takes some of the Horsemen outside to practice twice a week. Not me, not any of the guys with the collars, but the loyal ones. Nobody’s allowed to carry any weapons down here, though. The guns are for when we leave the caves and go out there.” He waved a hand up toward the ceiling.

  “Does Nathaniel carry a gun?”

  “Why would he do that?”

  They spent a few minutes arming themselves with everything they could hold. Flem put on two holsters, one on his hip and one over his shoulder. Perla found a box containing a block of soft, white material. She took out a big lump of it and molded it into a ball in her hands. “What is this stuff? It looks like modeling clay.”

  Flem looked over at what she was holding. “C-4. Plastic explosive. That right there is enough to take down a good size building.”

  “Oh.” Perla held her breath and set the material down very carefully.

  “Don’t worry. It’s harmless unless there’s a detonator in it.” He picked up the soft ball and tossed it in the air, making Perla cringe. “See, it’s harmless. It makes great earplugs, too.”

  She watched his face to see if he was joking, but he tossed her the ball and went back to digging through the boxes of supplies. When his back was turned, she pulled the putty out of her right ear and saw that it did indeed look like the same material. There was nothing else available to put in her ear, so she shrugged and stuck it back in. “He’s nuts,” she muttered. “They’re all nuts.”

  “Huh?”

  “I said, can you show me how to shoot this?” She held up a pistol she’d found on a nearby shelf.

  “That’s a serious gun,” said Flem. “Colt semi-auto, .45 caliber. Look at the size of the ammo.” He removed a round from a loaded magazine to show her. “You want me to find you something a little smaller?”

  “No,” said Perla. “I want this one.”

  Flem sighed but did not press the subject. He was, Perla realized, one of those rare men who knew when to shut up. “You put the rounds in here until it’s full, then it slides right into the handle. Like that.” The magazine clicked into place. He showed her how to chamber a round and turn off the safety. “Now it’s ready to fire. Always treat it like it’s loaded. And for God’s sake, don’t shoot it in here. This room is like a big bomb.”

  Perla looked the weapon over and practiced removing and inserting the magazine. “What’s Nathaniel planning to do with all this stuff?”

  “Kill people.”

  “I know that, but which people?”

  “Anybody who doesn’t join him. Once the hum goes worldwide, he’ll have enough people under his control to take care of everyone else.”

  Perla watched him pick up and examine weapons, setting some aside but holding onto others, including a couple of hand grenades. He seemed to have at least passing familiarity with most of the items on the shelves. “Where did you learn how to use this stuff? Who taught you?”

  His expression turned dark. “Arthur.”

  “Arthur.” Perla clicked the safety on and off to try it out. Flem watched nervously, looking like he was ready to snatch it away if she did anything wrong. “Why did you ever hang around with that man?”

  “He’s a good leader. Not a good guy, but a good leader. Terwilliger told you all about Urizen, didn’t he?”
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br />   “Many times,” said Perla. She had never bought into all that stuff the way Joy had, but some of the things she’d seen had made her soften her position a little. There were some things that logic just couldn’t explain. Like how Joy could dream about a man she’d never seen, and then find him living in Los Angeles.

  “You have to understand what a big deal it is if Urizen wins. We’re talking world war, death and destruction. Nuclear winter, maybe. Urizen has no mercy and he plays to win. You don’t want to live in a world that’s under his thumb.”

  “I sure don’t,” Perla said. “But that’s just what happens when you’ve got men in charge. Things always degenerate into a penis contest. It’d be different if a woman were president instead of Nixon.”

  Flem smiled. “Probably. But for now, Urizen is calling the shots. Nixon’s working for him, whether he knows it or not. The whole point of the Society is to take Urizen down and replace him with someone who will let people be free. Someone wise and honorable.”

  “Someone like Arthur?”

  Flem didn’t answer. Perla looked over at him, but his attention was focused on the entrance to the chamber, where a very large man was standing in the open doorway. “Seymour,” the man growled.

  “Mr. Tinch,” said Flem with a smile. “Is the meeting over?”

  “I didn’t go to the meeting,” said Tinch. “What’s she doing in here?”

  Flem’s smile widened until it was not really a smile anymore. Now it looked more like an insane grimace. “Just showing her around. Nathaniel said he didn’t mind as long as I stayed with her.”

  Tinch’s face was hard and cruel. “Then you won’t mind,” he said, “if I just ask Nathaniel if that’s really what he said.”

  “Sure,” said Flem. “Go and ask him.”

  “I don’t need to go anywhere,” Tinch said. “I can ask him right now.” His eyes shifted focus as he turned his mind inward, reaching out to contact Nathaniel.

  “Hey, as long as you’re talking to him, ask about this.” Flem drew a handgun and fired two shots at Tinch. They went high, chipping the rock above the doorway.