State of Nature: Book Three of The Park Service Trilogy

by Ryan Winfield

“And is anyone else with you?”

  “Who else would be with us?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” she says.

  The tunnelrat beside me screeches, and I turn just in time to see Jimmy break free of its grip with his knife clenched in his free hand. The tunnelrat looks at the blood running from the cut in its forearm, and the veins in its neck begin to expand. Its red eyes flare and its huge hands ball into fists.

  “Stand down,” Hannah says, before it can hit Jimmy.

  The tunnelrat reluctantly relaxes its hands.

  “Looks like you’ve made yourself right at home while we were away,” I say.

  “Made yerself some new friends too,” Jimmy adds.

  Hannah rises from her chair and looks us over.

  She appears older to me somehow, more devious, even though she’s shorter than I remember her being.

  “Are you sure no one else is with you?” she asks.

  “I’m sure,” I reply. “What’s going on around here?”

  “Nothing much,” she says. “I’ve just been sitting here, worried sick and watching the screens, hoping to catch some glimpse of you all out there. Just to know that you were okay.”

  She waves absently to the wall of screens where various scenes from around the world are being broadcast from drones. It makes me sick to think that she’s been sitting here getting massaged and groomed while watching drones look for humans to slaughter. It makes me even sicker to think that she wants the encryption code so that she can keep them on the job.

  “I’ve been so worried I’ve hardly slept a wink,” she says. “Didn’t you miss me?”

  All the things I had planned to say to her flee from my mind—which is probably best since I hadn’t counted on confronting her with two tunnelrats standing by her side. Think, think, think—I’m lost for anything to say.

  “Where’s Red?” I finally ask.

  “Oh, he’s around somewhere,” she says. Then she turns to Jimmy and changes the subject. “How are you, Jimmy?”

  Jimmy can’t hide his contempt for her. It’s written all over his face. He’s still holding his knife, and I notice that when she addresses him, his hand grips it tighter until his knuckles turn white. For a moment, I’m worried that he might just stab her.

  “I’m ’bout as happy to see you as you is to see me.”

  Hannah grins at him, appearing to admire for once his witty choice of words.

  “Fair enough then,” she says, clapping her hands together. “Shall we get down to it and see about this encryption code? I’m assuming you have it, of course.”

  An uncomfortable silence falls between us. I look at the tunnelrats and notice that they’re not looking at Jimmy and me. They’re looking at Hannah, waiting on instructions. The hair on my neck stands up, and my heart rate quickens. A silent threat hangs heavy in the bright room.

  “We couldn’t find it,” I say.

  “I don’t believe you,” she replies.

  “And I don’t believe you either.”

  She places her hands on her chest and feigns being hurt.

  “You don’t believe me?” she asks. “Now, what would I lie to you about?”

  “I don’t believe that you’ve been sitting here doing nothing and waiting on us, for one thing. Why are the lights back on in Eden? And why are all these tunnelrats here?”

  “Geez, you just arrived and you can’t even hardly say hello before you start hammering me with questions.”

  “Apparently, I didn’t ask enough questions before we left.”

  “And what’s that mean?”

  “It means you’re a traitor and a liar.”

  It feels good to say it, but Hannah sucks any pleasure from my accusation by smiling at me as if she were proud of it.

  “So, I guess you know then,” she says.

  “Hannah, how could you? You killed them.”

  “I think I’d like to talk with the professor now.”

  “I’m not done—”

  I grab her shoulder to stop her from passing me, but she casts a glance at one of the tunnelrats, and it yanks me away with such force that I’m thrown halfway across the room. Jimmy looks at me, a question on his face: Should I fight? I shake my head. We’re no match for these two. Jimmy stands down, and the other tunnelrat pries the knife from his hand. The opportunity is gone. It grunts something to its fellow, and they push us after Hannah and then follow us out the door. She leads us down to the docks. I feel stupid for having walked in like this without a plan. But how was I supposed to know?

  When we reach the submarine, she turns to us and says, “You four keep each other company out here while I go and wake the professor.” Then she stops halfway up the ladder and turns back, catching me eyeing the small boat on its lift. “You know what? Just the four of you might get a little lonely.” She puts her fingers in her mouth and whistles. The sound carries over the din of the work being done around the Foundation, and soon everything falls quiet. A few moments later other tunnelrats begin to appear on the path, heading for the dock. Hannah smiles down on us and then continues her climb toward the hatch.

  By the time Hannah reappears a few minutes later, carrying Finn’s plaster-encased hand cradled in her palms, a mass of tunnelrats stands between us and the shore, cutting off any hope of escape. The professor follows her onto the submarine deck, rubbing his unbound hands. Jimmy casts me a look that says: Don’t you wish we’d thrown him overboard now?

  The professor descends the ladder to the dock and then reaches up and takes Finn’s hand from Hannah so she can climb down. I assume she’ll confront us about having tied the professor up, but instead she takes her brother’s amputated hand back from the professor and marches off the dock with it.

  I start after her, but strong hands grips my shoulder and pull me back. I smell the tunnelrat’s musty mouth breathing on my neck as I watch Hannah disappear toward her lab. I look at Jimmy with an apology in my eyes, but he only sighs.

  “Take these two and stick them in a hole somewhere.”

  Having given the order, the professor walks off too. But as the tunnelrats seize us, he seems to have second thoughts and turns and walks back to stand in front of me.

  “I never was a fan of Dr. Radcliffe, but I did respect his mind. And you, young man, are a disgrace to his legacy.” Then he turns to face Jimmy and says, “And I want you to know that I’m glad I killed that stupid fox of yours.”

  Jimmy struggles against the tunnelrat’s grip on him, a new look of murder burning in his eyes. The professor smiles at him with a coward’s courage.

  “Let me see your teeth, you little savage.”

  Jimmy spits on him. “Go to hell, old man.”

  The professor balls his hand into a fist and smashes it into Jimmy’s mouth. Jimmy takes the blow without flinching, but the professor leaps back and yelps in pain, cradling his hurt hand and whimpering. Jimmy spits blood at him, then laughs after him as the professor storms off up the dock mumbling profanities.

  The victory is short lived, however, as the tunnelrats drag us off the dock. Now that they’re alone, they speak to one another in a kind of pidgin language that is nearly impossible for me to decipher. It sounds like English mixed with squeals and grunts and accented with clicks of their tongues.

  My heart begins to race when I see that they’re dragging us toward Eden. There’s no way Hannah would let them do that. Would she? Is she that far gone? They take us inside, using the same door Jimmy and I did when we broke in and burned it, and they lead us down the hall to a flight of stairs. I remember the killing chair, and fearing that they’re taking us there, I begin to struggle and kick. But a second tunnelrat grabs my legs and lifts them off the ground, and they carry me down. I hear Jimmy yelling and fighting as they drag him down after me.

  At the bottom of the stairs, they open a steel door and drop me on the floor. I hit my elbow, and pain shoots up my arm. A few seconds later, Jimmy lands hard next to me, his head thudding on the concrete. Then the door
slams shut and the room goes dark.

  CHAPTER 3

  Laughing in the Dark

  The last thing I expect to hear is Jimmy laughing in the dark.

  “Jimmy? You alright, Jimmy?”

  “Yeah,” he finally says, “I’m okay.”

  “Well, what’s so funny?”

  “Ever-thin’ is.”

  “Everything’s funny?”

  “I jus’ keep seein’ the professor’s face after he hit me. I ain’t never seen someone so afraid. It was like I bit him or somethin’, but he’s the one hit me. Ain’t this jus’ a kick?”

  “Did you hit your head? You sound a little delirious.”

  “I’m fine,” he says. “I’m jus’ gonna lie down and rest.”

  “Jimmy, you know where we are, right?”

  “I’m jus’ tired is all,” he says. “I’ll feel better after I get some sleep. Dun’ wake me up unless this has all been a dream.”

  I listen as he curls up on the floor next to me.

  After a while, I hear his breathing change its rhythm and I know he’s fallen asleep. I’m pretty sure I heard his head hit when they threw him in after me, and I’m worried that he might have a concussion, or worse. I reach out and find him in the dark and run my fingers over his head. I feel a few lumps on his scalp but no blood. Maybe he is just tired. I scoot closer to him and caress his hair, humming the song his mother used to hum to me. It’s a reassuring sound in the uncertain dark. I had an uneasy feeling returning to the Foundation, but I had no idea we’d end up like this. I can only assume that they’ll eventually come and either test the new and improved Eden with our brains, or, if we’re lucky, just drop us down the meat grinder and wash our remains out to sea. Oh, well. The truth is, I’m tired: tired of searching for answers; tired of struggling to do the right thing; tired of worrying that Jimmy, or me, or both of us will be killed. Maybe Jimmy has the right idea going to sleep. I stretch out beside him on the cold concrete and close my eyes. I open them again when I hear my name.

  I sit upright and stare into the blackness, as if I might somehow see the ghost that called to me. Just when I’m sure that my mind is playing tricks in the dark, it comes again—feeble and frail and impossible to pinpoint in the black room.

  “Aubrey?—”

  “Hello ...,” I call, my own voice echoing back to me.

  “Help me.”

  “Who’s there? Hello ...”

  I sit and listen, but the voice does not speak again. I crawl in the direction from which it had come, moving cautiously in the darkness. I can’t see a thing, but I begin to smell the reek of urine and human waste. Then my hand lands on something cold and clammy and I recoil from it in fear.

  “Help me,” the voice says. I reach out again and feel the skin of a hand. An arm. A shoulder. When I feel the coarse hair and the size of the head, I know I’ve found Red.

  “Red? Are you okay, Red? What’s happened to you?”

  He’s lying on the floor in the fetal position. I grab his clammy hand and check his pulse. It’s weak and slow. I wonder how long he’s been here like this.

  “Thirsty,” he moans.

  “Is there anything in here to drink?”

  He doesn’t reply.

  It takes me a while to locate the door, and when I pound on it with my fist, the sound echoes loudly in the pitch-black room. I pound and pound, but nothing happens and nobody comes. My knuckles ache, and sweat rises on my brow.

  “Open up!” I shout. “Open up, you cowards!”

  I feel a hand on my shoulder and stop to catch my breath.

  “They ain’t comin’, Aubrey,” Jimmy says.

  “Red’s in bad shape.”

  “Red?”

  “Yeah, he’s over there.”

  “Is he hurt?”

  “I couldn’t tell, but he said he’s thirsty.”

  “Well, how long’s it been since he’s had any water?”

  “How the hell should I know, Jimmy?” Realizing how rude that sounds, I add, “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired of all this.”

  But Jimmy’s already gone, and when he speaks next, his voice comes from across the room.

  “Aubrey, give me a hand over here.”

  Together, we drag Red to the far wall and lean him up against it. He’s much lighter than he should be, given his build. Jimmy has me hold him up while he feels him for any wounds or broken bones.

  “He’s in one piece,” he says. “But he needs liquids.”

  “Let’s search the room,” I suggest. “You follow the wall that way, I’ll follow it this way, and we’ll meet in the middle.”

  I inch along the wall, feeling for any pipes or a sink, but there’s nothing but concrete. When I hit the corner, I turn and walk the other wall. Still nothing. Another corner. Nothing. I run into Jimmy midway around the room, near the door.

  “I got zilch,” he says.

  “Me either. It’s just a bare room. You got any ideas?”

  “One,” he says, “but it ain’t pretty.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “I gotta go.”

  “Gotta go where? We’re trapped in here.”

  “No, I gotta go go.”

  “Ah, man. No way. I’d rather die of dehydration.”

  “But you ain’t him. And he might die if we do nothin’.”

  The idea turns my stomach, but I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt. “Do what you think’s best,” I say. “I’m going to try and get someone’s attention again.”

  By the time I finish pounding on the metal door, my hand is numb, my voice is hoarse, and the effort has yielded nothing. I might as well be banging on the ceiling of my own coffin.

  “Save your energy,” Jimmy calls. “You might need it.”

  I walk to the far wall with my hands in front of me, like some sleepwalking zombie in the night. I find Jimmy sitting next to Red, propping him up, and I slide down the wall and sit on Red’s other side.

  “Is he doing any better?”

  “Some,” Jimmy says. “He was talkin’ a bit more. He said he thought we was a dream.”

  “How long’s he been in here?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  I reach over and shake Red’s shoulder. “Red? Can you hear me, Red?”

  He moans. I feel his head lift and then drop again.

  We sit lined up against the wall for hours—three lonely felons waiting on our fate. The only thing worse than the darkness is the silence. I play a game with myself to pass the time, trying to guess what Jimmy’s thinking. Of course, I never know if I’m right or not because I don’t ask him. I’m not sure why I don’t. Maybe because I’m worried that he’s thinking all of this is somehow my fault. Then again, maybe he’s playing the same game and trying to guess what I’m thinking, and neither of us is really having any thoughts of his own.

  Red stirs next to me. “Aubrey? Are you still here?”

  I reach over and rest my hand on his arm. “I’m still here, Red. You okay?”

  “I’ve seen you before but you always disappear.”

  “I’m really here, buddy. So’s Jimmy. He’s right there on your other side.”

  “He is?”

  “Hey, Red,” Jimmy says. “I’m right here.”

  “Are you both stuck in here too?”

  “Let’s not worry about that right now,” I say.

  “Well, I was wishing you’d show up, so if I wished you here and it’s my fault you’re stuck, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. Red. None of this is.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because I caused the strike.”

  “The strike? What strike?”

  Red lets out a prolonged sigh. A long time passes in silence, and I assume he’s gone back to sleep. Then he sighs again. “I shouldn’t have done it,” he says.

  “What’d he say?” Jimmy asks.

  “He says he shouldn’t have done it.”

  “Done w
hat?”

  “I don’t know. Shouldn’t have done what, Red?”

  “I sent a note down on the train to my girl. I wanted to let her know I was okay. And then ... and then ... well, I guess word got around, and they decided they weren’t gonna send up any more supplies until their retirement started again.”

  “Is that why Hannah threw you in here?”

  “She said I was stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid.”

  “She said I was responsible.”

  “Responsible for what, Red?”

  “For killing everybody down in Holocene II.”

  He says it softly, but the words hit me like a hammer. Did Hannah flood Holocene II? Is that why all the tunnelrats are up here? An image of all those people waking up to water gushing in to fill the caverns sends a shiver up my spine.

  “Red, did you see her do it? Did she flood Holocene II?”

  When Red doesn’t answer, I shake him, but he only moans and falls over to lean on Jimmy. There’s no way I heard him right. It can’t be. She wouldn’t.

  “Jimmy, did he say Hannah flooded Holocene II?”

  “He dun’ know what he’s sayin’,” Jimmy replies. “He said we was ghosts too. Let’s let him rest.”

  “Well, we can’t just sit here,” I say.

  “What else are we s’posed to do?” he asks. “All we can do is wait. Wait and save our energy until somebody comes.”

  “And what if nobody comes?”

  “Then we wait some more.”

  “And dehydrate like Red here and maybe die?”

  “There ain’t nothin’ else to be done.”

  “Fine,” I say, “but I’m not drinking your piss.”

  “Damn straight you ain’t,” he says. “You drink your own.”

  CHAPTER 4

  The Ultimatum

  Blinding light in my eyes.

  Am I dreaming? No, the door is open.

  Strong hands grab my arms and jerk me up. My legs are asleep and give out beneath me, and my feet slide along the floor as I’m dragged toward the light, out from the room, and up the stairs. I struggle to turn and at least say goodbye to Jimmy, but I hear the door slam shut behind me before I can.

  So this must be it, I think.