“What’s the plan, Big Bill?” Charlie asked.
Bill immediately looked to Janet and raised an eyebrow.
Looks like I’m up.
“I thought that sitting tight might be our best hope,” she began. “But now I’m not so sure.” She held up her arm, showing the rest of them the fresh bandages. “These things we’ve been seeing are more than simple haunts. They can touch us, burn us. We should be okay as long as we stay in the light, but even that’s an assumption on my part, and that’s dangerous.”
“So what do we do?” Fred asked.
“I say we make a run for it,” Ellen Simmons said. Charlie laughed again.
“As I said before, Ellen, you’ve been watching too much cheap television. We’re up against folks with automatic weapons for a start, and God knows what else will come up out of them holes. What do you suggest we use to fight back? A big stick?”
“We could sneak out the back…” Fred said.
The sheriff shook his head.
“It’s not safe in the dark. I think we can all agree on that.”
Everyone around the table went quiet until Ellen Simmons spoke up again.
“So that’s it? We sit here and wait for whatever’s coming to us?”
Nobody replied.
We’re out of ideas. And running out of time.
* * *
Matters were taken out of their hands minutes later. Fred and Charlie had just lit up post-meal cigarettes when they all heard movement outside the front door. Bill waved a hand, asking for quiet, and moved quickly to the door, just as someone turned the handle. Bill pulled the door open.
A slim woman stood there.
She’s not wearing a suit.
It took Janet a second before she recognized the scientist, Mullins. The newcomer walked into the bar and smiled thinly.
“The good news is that all your tests came back clean. The general has told me to get you ready to move out. The wounded are already on their way out of town. You’re next.”
Janet went to the door and looked out, just in time to see two long trucks drive out of the parking lot and away out of sight in the darkness.
“Is that wise?” Janet asked. “What about our shared experiences and…”
Mullins interrupted her.
“There’s no physical evidence of anything wrong with you,” she said. “And the general wants to get on with clearing this mess up. You’re moving out.”
“Whether we like it or not?” Charlie said.
Mullins nodded.
“The general isn’t a man to change his mind once it’s made up. And believe me, you’ll be safer as far away from here as you can get.”
Now that’s something I can believe.
To no one’s surprise, Ellen Simmons was the first to move.
“It’s about time too,” she said. “Get me out of here. I’ve got a reporter to find.”
Before they left, the sheriff went through the back and switched off the generator.
“We might yet be coming back,” he said dryly when he returned. Janet herded everyone else out into the parking lot, grateful that it was well-lit by the CDC’s arc lights. She saw that the quarantine area was the only spot that sat in darkness.
“Do we take the bus?” Charlie asked. Janet saw that the older man had a full bottle of JD in one hand, and the flashlight in the other.
“No,” Mullins said. “We have something a bit more secure.”
She led them round the trailer that housed the laboratory. A long, armored troop carrier sat in the corner of the lot, headlights on and engine running. Two men sat up front, a driver and a soldier who made a point of showing them that he had an automatic rifle in his arms.
“For protection,” Mullins said without a hint of irony, and started to shepherd them inside the truck. There were three long seats with a narrow walkway up the left-hand side. Fred and the girl went in the front nearest the driver, Charlie and Ellen Simmons in the middle. Janet pushed Bill up to the rear and got in beside him. Mullins sat beside Fred, just behind the armed man.
“We’ll have you out of here in no time,” the scientist said. She pulled the truck door shut. “All present.”
The driver put the truck in gear and they headed out into another night.
* * *
Bill surprised Janet by taking her hand.
“We shouldn’t be going,” she said softly. “We should be staying, examining whatever it was we almost communicated with.”
Bill’s grip on her hand tightened.
“Leave it to these guys,” he said. “I just want you out of harm’s way.”
“These guys are just going to bomb the shit out of it,” Janet said. “We might be looking at something completely new to our experience. And it will be lost forever.”
Bill reached over and turned her face round to look her in the eyes.
“Janet. It took my town…our town. It has killed God knows how many people. And it damned near burned through your arm just an hour ago. And I still ain’t convinced we’re not dealing with demons straight from the gates of hell. Maybe it’s best just to let the general do what he’s gotta do?”
Best for whom?
She leaned her head on Bill’s shoulder and closed her eyes, suddenly weary.
The truck had a better suspension than the old bus, the smoothness of the ride bringing some degree of security to the journey. But now they were out of the bar Janet felt exposed, her fears threatening to grip her. She saw them again in her mind’s eye; the too-thin, too-pale figures, reaching for her with fingers that were almost skeletal.
“Fred is dead.”
She heard the phrase in her mind, and at the same time, became aware of fresh wetness at her lip. Her jaw vibrated and a shiver ran the length of her spine.
We’re in trouble.
20
Fred was grateful for one thing. He’d let Sarah get into the truck first. That at least meant that he was between her and the scientist, Mullins.
If they’d sat together, they might be at blows by now.
Even as it was, Sarah was starting to let her anger build up a head of steam.
“So what’s she going to do now?” Sarah said, making sure Mullins wasn’t going to be able to ignore her. “Take us out to a field and shoot us in the head? Or maybe just throw us down a hole? What orders does she have this time?”
Fred was starting to wish he’d followed Charlie’s example and filched a bottle of JD from behind the bar. Getting between two women in a fight was never a good idea at the best of times.
And now ain’t anywhere close to the best of times.
“My only job here is to make sure you get to safety,” Mullins said.
“Like you did with Ma and Pa?” Sarah said, her voice rising so that she was close to a shout. “They’re sure safe now, ain’t they?”
Mullins kept looking straight ahead. Fred guessed that she couldn’t look them in the eye.
“I’ve told you before, that wasn’t me…”
“Yeah, you said. I ain’t seen you coming over to our side yet though.”
“It’s not a question of sides. We’re all in this together.”
“Give me a gun then,” Sarah said. “Let’s see how far this togetherness goes.”
The armed guard in the passenger seat up front turned and showed Sarah his rifle.
“If you don’t keep quiet, you’ll get a closer look at this gun than you’d like.”
Sarah didn’t flinch.
“I’ll make it easy for you,” she said and started to rise from her seat. “I’ll just get off here.”
The girl tried to push past Fred, just as the truck hit a bump, and she fell into his lap. Fred smiled, but Sarah looked like she might slap him.
“Let me go,” she said…just as she was hit by a nosebleed that dripped in a constant stream down her shirt. Fred tasted blood at his lips, felt the vibration shake along his jaw.
We’re in trouble again.
“B
race yourself,” he said to Sarah. She grabbed him tight, her face buried against his chest. Fred looked past her. He had a clear view through the gap between their driver and the armed man up front, and soon wished he hadn’t.
The road crumbled, falling in slow motion, down into darkness. The driver tried to haul the truck aside, but was too slow. The front wheels went over the edge and the truck tipped forward. If Fred had been driving, he’d have thrown the vehicle into reverse, but he saw immediately that he’d only have managed to tip the truck over. Instead their driver went with the collapse, accelerating into it, driving down into the hole, skidding and sliding on a loose bed of dirt and gravel that accompanied their descent.
The headlights showed them getting deeper into a narrowing crevice, one that was also getting steeper, until the driver lost control of the truck completely and they were carried down, bucking and swaying, on a monstrous roller-coaster ride to hell.
* * *
Sarah clung so tightly that Fred felt his chest constricting, and he struggled for breath. The headlights suddenly picked out a wall of rock, looming ahead of them, filling the view. The driver slammed on the brakes. They didn’t slow. The truck hit the wall headlong in a crash of tortured metal and glass, throwing the passengers around like so many rag dolls.
Fred’s head hit something, hard. He tasted more blood in his mouth and could see only blackness. He was now breathing more freely, but that only meant Sarah no longer held on to him.
“Sarah!” he shouted, but heard no response. He felt dizzy, and when he pushed, tried to move, his muscles didn’t reply.
Fred is dead.
A flash of light told him that wasn’t quite true. Something shifted in the darkness, and he felt a hand at his cheek.
“Sarah?”
“I’m here.”
“Keep talking,” someone else said. “I’ll get to you.”
The light moved and bobbed.
“Charlie?”
“That’s me,” the older man said. “Anybody else here?”
“We’re in one piece back here,” Janet replied from somewhere behind them. “Mullins?”
There was no reply to that one.
“Anybody up front?” Charlie asked. There was no reply to that either.
“I’m still here, if anybody cares,” Ellen Simmons said.
“Can anybody get out?” Charlie said.
Something shifted at Fred’s right, and Mullins spoke, her voice clearly showing she was in some pain.
“Shine that light over here,” she said.
Charlie did as she asked. The beam hit her face, and Fred got a good look at her. Blood poured from her nose and ears and her eyes fluttered.
“Doc. We’re going to need you,” Fred said.
“Nobody move,” Mullins replied, although the act of speaking was clearly causing her great pain. “I’ve got the door if I can get more light on it?”
Charlie moved the beam towards the truck door.
“That’ll do it,” Mullins said. She slid the door open, leaned over…and fell out of the truck into the darkness. There was a soft thud as she hit ground outside.
Fred felt Sarah move away from him, heading for the open doorway.
“Charlie, get over here. We’ve got a problem.”
“Just the one?” the older man said. The flashlight beam shifted again, and a couple of seconds later Charlie climbed his way out of the door. Now that Sarah’s weight was off him, Fred found he could shift himself easily enough.
He climbed out of the truck, having to squeeze through a gap between the seats that was a lot narrower than it had been earlier. There was no sound at all from up front, and Fred was suddenly afraid to speak, lest something answered. He followed the bobbing light from the flashlight out of the truck.
Sarah sat on her knees in the dirt beside the prone body of the scientist. The blood on Mullins’ face looked black as tar in the flashlight. Her eyes had rolled up into their sockets, and her breath came in short, fast hitches.
“Doc, we really need you out here,” Charlie shouted.
“We need some light,” Doc’s voice came from the dark in the back of the truck.
Charlie shone the beam back towards the truck to show Doc the way and the truck rocked and creaked as the three people in the rear started to pull themselves out.
Fred’s eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness. The truck was little more than a black shadow, but it still had some power—the dashboard lights were on, shining bright in the gloom. While Doc got down out of the truck, Fred went to check on the two men up front.
The driver hadn’t made it. He lay, slumped in his belt, neck obviously broken, his head hanging limply at too sharp an angle. If that hadn’t killed him, the steering wheel embedded in his chest would have finished the job.
The man in the passenger seat was still alive, breathing heavily, but out cold. His face looked red in the dashboard lights.
Like one of Big Bill’s demons.
He fought down an urge to flee, and opened the passenger door, having to tear it forcibly away from its hinges before he could reach the injured man. The guard moaned in response to the tearing of metal, but he didn’t wake up. When Fred tried to get the guard out of the seat, he quickly found that the man was pinned in position by a mass of crushed metal and plastic below his waist. Fred smelled gasoline, oil—and blood.
“If you’ve got time, Doc,” he said. “We’ve got a man in bad shape here too.”
Fred lifted the automatic rifle from where it lay on the man’s belly. He made sure he did it slowly and carefully.
It wouldn’t do to shoot the guy I’m trying to save.
He put the gun on the ground, just as Doc spoke.
“Mullins needs me,” she said. “How’s your guy doing?”
“Trapped by the legs and losing blood, but I don’t know how much.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” the sheriff said, climbing down out of the truck.
But even between the two of them they couldn’t shift the mangled mass that was tangled around the trapped man’s legs. The sheriff put his whole strength into it, and only managed to shift the wreckage an inch. Fred leaned across the wounded man, feeling hot breath on the back of his neck, as warm as a hair dryer.
“It’s no use, Sheriff,” he said. “He’s held tight. We ain’t getting him out of here anytime soon.”
As Fred bent over him again to try a different angle of approach, the man’s radio crackled, so loud that Fred jumped and banged his head on the roof.
“Find that radio,” the sheriff said. “It might be our way out of here.”
It took a few seconds to locate the small radio that was tucked deep inside the man’s flak vest. As Fred got it out, it crackled again.
“Winton. This is home base. Come in.”
Fred held the radio up, then realized he had no idea which button to press to reply. He handed it to the sheriff. The big man pressed a button and spoke.
“Sheriff Wozniak here. We need help, and we need it now.”
To the credit of the man on the other end, he wasted no time asking futile questions.
“How many are you?”
“Six civilians, and three of your folks, one dead, two wounded and not ready to be moved. We’re at the bottom of a hole in the Western Road, and I’ve no idea how deep we are.”
“Sit tight. We’re on our way.”
* * *
The trapped man woke up a couple of minutes later and immediately moaned in pain.
“What happened?”
As if it came naturally to him, Charlie took charge of the situation. He handed the wounded man the bottle of JD.
“We crashed,” he said, dryly. “And you’re stuck until help gets here. I ain’t got nothing for the pain but old Jack here, so I suggest you get it down you while you can.”
“There’s a field kit under my seat,” the man said. “But I’ll take my medicine any way I can get it.”
While Charlie tried
to get under the seat, the man drank from the mouth of the JD bottle, and the level of liquor inside had dropped markedly when he passed it to Fred.
“Don’t give me any more unless you have to,” the soldier said. His eyes were dark pits in a pale face, lit red by the dashboard lights. The sheriff passed the man the radio.
“They’re on their way,” he said. “Just hang tight.”
Doc looked up from where she knelt by Mullins.
“They’ll have to be quick,” she said softly.
Fred looked down. Mullins was unconscious, her face a bloody mask.
“Her left lung’s punctured, I think,” Doc said, rising “And there may be other internal bleeding.”
Charlie drew a squat case out from under the passenger seat.
“Anything here that will help?”
The case contained a field medical kit. Doc opened it and checked the contents.
“Not much that’ll help the internal bleeding. The best I can do is to make sure she’s not in pain. There’s enough morphine here to keep an elephant quiet.”
“Morphine is always good,” the wounded soldier in the passenger seat said. “I wouldn’t mind some myself.”
“Move aside,” Doc said to Fred and the sheriff. “Let’s see if there’s at least someone here I can help.”
Sarah was still on her knees by Mullins, head down and not speaking. Fred stepped away to stand beside the sheriff and Ellen Simmons, who, for once, seemed struck speechless by the situation. The only sound came from the intermittent tumble of fresh dirt down the walls of the hole.
Fred saw that the sheriff had the army man’s rifle in his hands.
“It’s more light we need,” Fred said. “Not bullets.”
The sheriff smiled, and flicked a switch on the gun. A powerful beam shone out from a top-mounted flashlight, just for a second or so before he switched it off.
The Hole Page 15