by Dana Mentink
From above there was a faint rectangle of light silhouetting the gap where the platform had been moments before. It revealed that they were in a cramped rectangular space, interrupted with pipes and broken metal brackets. Trey stood slightly bent over to avoid the ceiling. The wood underneath her feet was pocked in some places where rotten boards had given way and droppings indicated the rodent brigade was thriving.
Trey perched on an area where the floor looked solid enough and fished out the radio. There was no answer from Derick, and he stowed it before he made his way gingerly to the shaft, peering below into the darkness. “We could climb back down, but there’s a mess at the bottom and the water’s probably waist-high now.”
Sage pulled herself to her feet, hugging the nearest pole. “Stage floor is up,” she said, pointing a finger in the air.
“Up it is,” he said, hesitating. “Do you want me to climb up and check around? I’ll come back down for you.”
As much as she did not want to climb any farther into the unknown, she wanted even less to be left alone in the dark coffinlike space that seemed to groan and sigh around her like a wounded animal. She shook her head as he put on his backpack again and moved toward the pipes.
She matched her footsteps to his, planting them on the boards that appeared to be relatively intact. It was now a much shorter climb up the chute toward the stage floor and mercifully the pipes were sound.
As they ascended, the air felt warmer, fresher even, and it lifted her spirit a fraction. They were, at least for the moment, working their way back to the surface, to the light, and she felt a near-desperate need to free herself from the bowels of that theater. Trey climbed over the edge and turned to give her a hand up and just like that, they found themselves back on the stage where the horrible adventure had started. It was hardly recognizable. Large sections of flooring had given way and what was left was covered by fallen boxes, ruined tapestries and unidentifiable debris.
Sage couldn’t hold back a sigh at the final ruin of the Imperial. “Barbara will be devastated.” She allowed herself to believe the story for a minute as she pictured her cousin. Barbara was traveling, away from this painful scene. Perhaps it really was the truth.
From somewhere, a breeze was rippling across the stage, fluttering the tattered flats where they had come to rest atop piles of junk. Skittering rodents appeared and disappeared now and again, whiskers twitching.
A woman’s cry froze them both in their tracks.
“Up there,” Sage said, making for the ladder that led to the catwalk. She beat him this time, climbing as quickly as she was able, heart pounding and palms cold. “We’re coming,” she yelled, but the exertion sapped away the volume.
Trey was only a few feet below her. She reached the level where a row of lights was attached, though the bulbs were shattered. Just above was the catwalk, painted black and impossible to see clearly. Stepping onto it, she moved just enough to allow Trey access.
Gripping the rail, she looked down at the dizzying sight of the mangled stage some thirty feet below. The catwalk itself vibrated under her feet and she wondered just how weakened it had been by the massive quake.
They stared upward, listening to the rattle of wind and the faraway dripping of water until they heard the clang of metal striking metal.
“One more level up,” Trey said.
Her body refused to listen to the repeated warnings of her mind and she hurried to the end of the catwalk and started up the ladder to the top. When she’d finished the climb she pulled out her flashlight. The uppermost catwalk was nestled just under the roof and opened onto a ledge not three feet across that had been a sort of partial attic until the floor had failed. The broken boards ended abruptly, their twisted edges projecting out into nothing.
Sage flattened herself against the railing of the catwalk well away from the opening and played her light over the catwalk itself. It was relatively free of debris until the far end, which was partially blocked by a section of roof that had collapsed. Shadows flickered and Sage’s skin went clammy. Tiny hairs on the back of her neck lifted as she reached out a hand toward the ruin. Someone was there, she knew it, she felt it.
“Antonia?” she whispered.
Something moved quickly from the other side of the pile. She jerked back and collided with Trey.
“What?” he asked in her ear.
A figure appeared, face sickly pale in the half light. Long dark hair, disheveled and matted, face scratched and bruised, eyes wide with fear or pain or both.
“Antonia,” Sage cried, reaching out her hands to the woman who looked momentarily dazed. “We’re here to get you out.”
Antonia jerked suddenly.
“Hold on to me,” Sage shouted, throwing herself on the pile thinking the catwalk under Antonia’s feet was giving way.
She heard Antonia’s gasp as she was pulled from Sage’s grasp. Sage and Trey watched in shock as Antonia’s body rose through the air, arms clinging to the rope above her head as an unseen hand yanked her away and her scream was swallowed up by the darkness.
ELEVEN
Trey rushed forward. It was like some ridiculous theater trick. Antonia was there one minute and snatched up and away the next toward a hole in the roof, hauled out by a phantom.
Sage stared at Trey in horror, her mouth moving but no words coming out.
“Fire escape at the reverse end of this catwalk.” He ran, the metal walkway bouncing under his feet. He did not allow himself to consider the possibility of the ironwork failing. Leaping over a fallen light that blocked his way and skirting past the twists of wire hanging down from the roof, he reached the outer wall. It was jammed shut. He applied the best cure for that problem, three hard and fast kicks. The door finally flew outward, opening onto a tiny fire escape platform that housed a filthy ladder somehow still clinging to the side of the decrepit building.
His boots rang on the rungs as he charged up, Sage gasping for breath behind him. In a moment he was over the brick lip, dropping down onto the rooftop, startling a duo of pigeons that flapped away. He helped Sage over. They surveyed the roof, which had a definite sag in the middle. Metal boxes housing the ventilation systems and electrical panels obscured their view along with a sizable pile of empty pallets.
“She was pulled out from that side,” he whispered in her ear. “Stick to the perimeter. It’s probably the most structurally sound.” She put her hand in his and he swallowed back the feeling it gave him. They crept forward, heading for the far corner.
They heard another woman’s cry. Trey let go of Sage’s hand and surged forward, vaulting over the electrical box and onto the back of a man holding Antonia by the arms, sending the guy’s baseball cap flying. They rolled over twice. The dude was in shape, hard-muscled and recovering quickly from Trey’s surprise assault. He landed a blow on the side of Trey’s head that sent sparks dancing through his field of vision. The man got to his feet and Trey took the legs from under him, listening in satisfaction as the breath whooshed out of his lungs.
Sage ran to Antonia and put herself between the woman and the two men.
Over the wash of adrenaline, facts fell into place in Trey’s brain along with a slow realization as he surveyed the simple rope harness still around Antonia’s waist and the gear lying in a neat pile at the corner of the roof. The man he’d just taken down rolled over. With a groan, Trey offered him a hand and he got to his feet, fixing a glare on Trey, flicking the shoulder-length dark hair aside.
“In what part of your pea brain did that seem like a good idea?”
Trey sighed and brushed off his jeans. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Hey, you called me,” he said, palms up. “I texted you back, but no doubt you didn’t have your phone with you because you’re still stuck in the dark ages where people send messages via smoke signals.”
&n
bsp; Sage put an arm around Antonia. “What is going on?” she demanded.
Trey laughed and retrieved the fallen baseball cap. “A Giants fan now, are you?”
“I’m considering signing with them next season.”
“That would be odd considering you can’t throw accurately enough to hit the broad side of a barn. Sage Harrington, this is my little brother, Dallas.” He took a moment to embrace his brother in a sort of pseudo choke hold around the neck that served as their means of physical connection. It was good to feel him close, strong and half-crazy as ever.
Sage’s eyebrows zoomed upward as she took in Dallas’s muscle shirt with the barest hint of a tattoo showing over the collar, the camo pants, the hair that hung over his black eyes. “This is your brother?”
“In the flesh,” Trey said with a grin.
“I wouldn’t have guessed that,” Sage said.
“We get that a lot. Dallas, this is...”
“Sage Harrington,” Dallas finished, interest piquing.
“Yes,” Trey said, wedging a warning in the word.
“Comrades in arms.” Dallas’s eyebrow edged up the tiniest bit, and he stared frankly at Sage as if she was the last piece in a puzzle he’d been searching for.
Trey ignored this and knelt next to Antonia. “Are you hurt?”
“Small injuries only,” Antonia said.
“She was banged up, dehydrated when I found her coming out of the tunnels,” Dallas said. “Couldn’t get out of the stage area so we headed up to the roof, but the collapse blocked our exit. I climbed out and lowered some ropes down to get her.”
“You climbed out?” Trey said. “How did you manage that?” He waved a hand. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” His brother was a free climber, which Trey was pretty sure translated to “human completely devoid of any common sense.”
“How did you get in the theater in the first place?” Sage said.
“There’s a storm water system south of here, connects to the drainage pipes under the building. It’s locked, but I figured dangerous times call for dangerous measures and all that, so I let myself in. I left it open in case we needed reinforcements.”
“How...?” Sage began.
“Trust me,” Trey said. “You really don’t want to know.”
Antonia drank from the water bottle Trey offered her. “My phone died and I thought you would not be able to find me. I banged on the wall for a long time while I was down in the tunnels. I thought I heard someone coming, but after a while I gave up hope of rescue until Dallas showed up. Thank you all. I never should have gone into the theater alone.”
“Why didn’t you wait outside for me?” Sage said, kneeling next to her. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for days, calling, leaving messages. That’s why we were meeting, remember? I have to talk to you about Barbara.”
Dallas cocked his head at Trey.
“Sage’s cousin. Husband says she’s in Santa Fe,” Trey explained.
“But she’s not, is she?” Sage finished.
Antonia licked her lips, which were dry and parched. “I haven’t seen her.”
Sage grabbed her wrist. “You know something. Tell me. I saw you take the photo from the house, as if you were going to search for Barbara or maybe ask people if they’d seen her around.”
“I don’t know anything for sure.”
“Then tell me what you suspect.”
Antonia rolled the bottle between her hands. “Barbara and Derick were not getting along. There were fights, explosive ones. And then one morning when I came to work, I was told she was gone, yet the day before she had fixed a time with me to discuss the mural.”
“Not exactly proof of anything,” Dallas said. “Could have changed her mind as women do, no offense.”
Antonia looked at her hands. “You’re right. I took the picture hoping to show it around to the workers in the neighborhood, the taxi drivers who do most of the airport runs, to see if anyone really could prove that she had gone there...if that’s what happened.”
“What else?” Sage pressed. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“It is probably nothing.”
He thought Sage was going to scream, but she let out a controlled exhale. “Please, Antonia. Tell me what you suspect.”
“The night before she supposedly left on her trip, I went to the main house to pick up a sketch I’d left behind. Before I got in, Derick arrived. He was just returning from somewhere. He took off his shoes and laid them out on the step. I don’t know why, but he looked so suspicious, so nervous, that I waited until he went inside and I checked the shoes. They were covered in dirt and flecks of gold plaster.”
Trey frowned. “Gold?”
She nodded. “One interior wall of the Imperial was painted to look like gold bars at one time. It was part of a publicity campaign in the 1930s. The owner tried to convince people there was a hidden vault under the opera house and charged the patrons a dollar to do a little treasure hunting before the opera. Barbara told me about it. Patrons who discovered the gold wall got a free ticket into the opera.”
She bit her fingernail. “I began to imagine that Derick had...killed her and hidden her body in the Imperial. While I was trying to decide what to do about the shoes, I heard someone coming and hid. I saw Rosalind come out and look at the shoes for a long time. Then she took them inside and closed the door. I got more and more suspicious so I decided to check around the theater before I met with you, Sage. I headed for the tunnels, but I felt a small quake so I changed my mind and you know what happened from there.”
“If you thought my cousin was in danger, why didn’t you go to the police?” Sage said.
Antonia held her chin up. “I have reasons for not wanting to do that.”
“What reasons?” Dallas asked flatly.
“Reasons that are my concern,” Antonia said, her eyes firing a challenge at Dallas.
Dallas looked more amused than annoyed by Antonia’s response. Sage appeared to be anything but amused.
“I sought you out to talk to you about Barbara. You knew I was concerned. There’s no good reason you should have kept me in the dark, unless you’re lying.”
Antonia’s mouth crimped into a grim line. “What reason would I have to harm Barbara?”
“I don’t know,” Sage said quietly. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“I don’t have to answer to you.” Antonia snatched the cotton bandage out of Trey’s hand and pressed it to her forehead.
Sage clamped her lips together and sat down on an electrical box to try her cell phone. Dallas walked to the edge of the building and looked down on the ugly panorama below.
Trey joined him. From their vantage point they could see the skyline, clouded by a mixture of fog and drifts of smoke from what seemed like a half dozen different points. The sun was obscured by storm clouds rolling in off the bay. It was past two but darker than it should have been. Eerie silence made him uneasy; it was unnatural to experience San Francisco without the relentless traffic noise. The city had been dealt a knockout punch.
Dallas spoke without looking at him. “Bad scene.”
“Thanks for signing on,” Trey said.
“You called. I came. It’s a brother thing.”
Trey let that sink in. There was so much else he should have done for Dallas, so many times he should have intervened to extricate him from the gang life that ensnared him and nearly ended both of their futures. For now, his brother looked every bit as strong as Trey was and they were side by side, like they had been a lifetime ago. He said a silent thank-you to God.
“You believe it?”
Trey blinked back to the present. “About Barbara’s disappearance?”
“Yeah.”
“Not sure. Sage believes it. She thinks someone is
hiding the truth, and now Antonia has been added to the list along with Derick and Rosalind.”
Dallas kept his face pointed to the horizon. “And you want to get into that? With her?”
No, he wanted to shout. Yes, no, maybe and everything in between. With Sage, he could not think, only feel, and what he felt scared him to the core. “I have to.”
“No, you don’t.”
He watched three pigeons waddling around the rooftop as if it was a normal day and the city hadn’t just fallen to its knees. “She’s...struggling with what happened, to Luis and to herself.”
He nodded. “And you are, too.”
“I guess,” he sighed. “But I’ve got more tools to deal with it.”
“You only really need one.”
A beam of sunlight made it through the clouds and flickered over the old cement. “She doesn’t have faith.”
“Then share that with her, but whether she takes it or not is her thing.”
“I know.”
Dallas nodded. “You know, but you have this inability to quit when you should.”
Trey gave him a look. “Family trait. I’m helping her get through this disaster. The rest of the problem she’ll tackle her own way.”
“Without you.”
“Sure.”
He shrugged. “All right. So how do you want to play this? You’re the big-shot G.I.”
There was pain in those words, the deeply buried desire that was never realized by his brother who had wanted nothing in his whole life but to join the military. Trey wondered if he had found a replacement for that burning passion, but it was not the time to ask. “Get the women out of here. Leave the Barbara issue to the police.”
Dallas gave him a sideways grin. “And you think Sage is going to say ‘yes, sir’ and go along with your plan?”
“She’s never gone along with a single thing I’ve said since I met her.”