Redaction: Dark Hope Part III

by Linda Andrews

  No. Mavis wouldn’t accept that. Couldn’t accept that. “You said there wasn’t a safe way. Did you think of an unsafe way? Something with a manageable level of danger?”

  “We’ll do it,” a man shouted behind her. “Tell us and we’ll do it.”

  “I’m afraid even those will take longer than the trapped men have. You’d be risking lives for corpses.” Mr. Jernigan cleaned his glasses on his dirty shirttail. “I regret—”

  Mavis snapped the connection. She didn’t want condolences; she wanted solutions.

  “What shall we do, ma’am?”

  “Everyone head up to the canteen. Take care of the sick.” Do something. Anything. She needed to think. She needed to return to the meeting chambers. The maps of the mines would provide a clue.

  Sunnie scrubbed her cheeks. “You’re giving up?”

  “No. Never.” She nodded to the men as they passed. “I’ll find a way to the men.” To David. “Be ready for my call.”

  “We believe in you, Doctor Spanner.”

  “Thank you.” She wouldn’t let them down. They needed a victory in their fight to survive. Some spark of hope to keep people from taking a walk outside without protection.

  Something against the odds.

  Something like this.

  Mrs. Bancroft stopped the wagon near Mavis’s chair. “Need a ride to your war room?”

  Kicking out of the leg rests, Mavis pushed to her feet. She climbed into the back of the wagon. Shep jumped up beside her. Maybe she was overthinking things. Maybe she just needed a line to get air to David. That would buy them precious time. Yes. Something small. They could attach a camera to get a visual and communicate.

  Sunnie heaved the collapsed wheelchair onto the bed then scooted next to Mavis. “You’ve thought of something.”

  “Maybe. It won’t get them out, but we need to focus on the small things first.” Really small things. Molecular-sized things: Oxygen. Mavis mentally smacked herself. She should have been thinking of it all along.

  “Brace yourself ladies.” Mrs. Bancroft clucked her tongue.

  Harnesses jingled. The wheel spun as the wagon lurched forward and the horses clomped up the ramp.

  Mavis slipped along the bed, a splinter bit into her palm. She hissed through the pain and yanked her hand back. Blood beaded around the brown sliver. “Son of a—”

  A loud boom roiled through the mountain. Metal shook like an epileptic in a grand mal seizure. Lightbulbs swayed and exploded when they hit rock. A roar slammed against her ears.

  “No!” Please God, not again. She grabbed her niece and shielded her with flesh and bone.

  The horses reared and shrieked.

  Mrs. Bancroft grabbed their heads, whispered to them.

  “Aunt Mavis!” Sunnie’s yell was barely decipherable above the noise.

  Dust billowed up the ramp. Rocks bounced. Boulders followed, burying the level they’d just left.

  She’d never be able to rescue David now.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “Holy shit!” Papa Rose pressed his nose against the greenhouse window. The three panes of glass rattled. A wall of snow swallowed the Dark Hope mine’s entrance before careening into the valley and exploding in a white spray over the river. Chunks splashed into the water shooting a jet ten feet into the air.

  Phone. His breath fogged the window in short bursts before he tore himself away. He needed a phone. Needed to call Falcon and make sure his children were all right. Please, God, let the munchkins be alive.

  Let everyone be alive.

  The ground grumbled under his feet. Water sloshed around the hydroponic beds. Beanpoles and cornstalks swayed. Overhead, metal trusses clattered.

  He careened across the greenhouse.

  Mildred Dobbins slammed into the doorjamb and latched on, holding herself up. “What’s happening?”

  “Avalanche. The entrance to the mine is gone.” Their sanctuary had been breached. He lurched to a stop next to her. The radiation counter monitoring the outside air spiraled higher. God, everyone could be irradiated as he stood here doing nothing.

  He had to do something. He had to protect Toby, Olivia and Jillie.

  The rumbling ceased. And eerie quiet filled the silence. The pumps sputtered on then off. The overhead lights flickered before staying on.

  Heart jackhammering his chest, he glanced down the hall. “Where’s the closest phone?”

  A phone would connect them. He needed to hear Toby’s voice on the line.

  “This way.” Turning on her heel, she led him through the hallway, into the gutted mining office building and up a rickety staircase. Plants filled pots, crates and even red Solo cups everywhere he looked. She pushed open the door and pointed to a banana yellow phone on the scarred desk.

  Picking it up, he shoved it against his ear. Dead. He thumped on the hook. Plastic jingled but silence filled the line. He set it back in the cradle.

  Mildred picked up the phone, followed it to the jack in the wall. “We’re cut off?”

  He nodded. “I have to go out there.”

  “How much air do you have left in your tank?”

  “About forty-five minutes.”

  Mildred’s penciled in eyebrows crept up her forehead.

  “Falcon and I stashed an extra tank in case of emergencies.” An avalanche hadn’t been on their minds. They’d both grown up in the desert; these things didn’t happen there.

  “Good thinking.” She walked to a set of rusting filing cabinets and pulled open a drawer. Metal screeched and gray paint flaked to the floor. “I know where the telephone line was laid. You might want to see if that’s repairable before you do anything crazy.”

  Heat stained his cheeks. There’s crazy and then there’s crazy. Given the circumstances, those were his options.

  “I’d like to help.” Justin leaned against the doorjamb. Swelling shrunk his features to tight points and bruises spotted his exposed skin.

  “Justin Quartermain, you sit down this minute.” Mildred shoved an office chair across the worn carpet. The chair’s missing wheel scraped up fibers in its wake. Stuffing spewed from the worn upholstery.

  He flopped onto the seat and clutched his ribs.

  Bruised, not broken. They would still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Papa Rose knew that from personal experience. He also recognized the need to be useful. “Have you eaten today?”

  “Sausage and gravy and a cardboard pastry with cinnamon inside.” Justin wrinkled his nose. “I won’t mix those things again.”

  Papa Rose’s stomach lurched. “I wouldn’t recommend it.” Ever. But an appetite was good. The kid was healing.

  Mildred shook a piece of paper at him. “Here is the map. The phone line runs along the conveyor belt and enters the mine right next to it.”

  He accepted the paper. A box, labeled conveyor in calligraphy, crawled up the mountain. A smaller line ran alongside it. Arrows identified it as telephone line. He folded the paper and stuck it in his shirt pocket. Justin wasn’t the only one who needed to help.

  Thankfully, he had just the task for them. “I need you to return to the warehouse.”

  “But—” The kid pushed out of his chair.

  Papa Rose held up his hand. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a boatload of boxes in that place. No one knows what’s inside. I need both of you to go through as many as you can while I investigate the downed line. Make a list of everything and label the boxes. I don’t know what we’re going to need.”

  “Our families and friends are in danger and I’m reduced to quartermaster.” Mildred pulled a stack of dot-matrix papers from the cabinet and grabbed up her pen and a stubby yellow pencil. “You record; I’ll open the boxes.”

  Justin’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “Deal. I’ve seen your writing.”

  Laughing, she opened the top desk drawer. Papa Rose grit his teeth at the hysterical edge. She pulled out two yellow and black children’s walkie-talkies. “I knew these would come in handy sooner or
later.”

  Papa Rose caught the one she tossed at him. He turned it on and the light changed to red. “Batteries fresh?”

  “As a daisy in spring.” She frowned. “Before the meltdown.”

  “Ten-four.”

  She helped Justin up and hovered close by as he limped to the door. “Check in every ten minutes. You’ll be alone out there and that’s not good.”

  Papa Rose saluted and hustled down the stairs. He paused at the bottom.

  Justin took the steps one at a time, two footed as a toddler just learning to walk. Sweat beaded his upper lip and he licked it off. “I wanted to thank you. For saving me. I—I heard what you said after the gunshots.”

  Ah, hell. The kid was supposed to yell at him for being so stupid, not thank him. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  “Of course you should have. Mavis needed you. She’s important.”

  “Everyone’s important.” Papa Rose parroted the Doc’s favorite line. Except the terrorists who’d shot Lister and nearly killed Justin.

  Pale and sweating, Justin sagged against the rickety banister. “And we know who shot the general.”

  “We do?”

  “I saw Chef toss the gun right before you left. Unfortunately, she saw me seeing her.” He dabbed at his swollen lip, stared at the blood on his fingertips. “I knew she was Jake Turner’s girlfriend, but I didn’t think she was that involved in the conspiracy.”

  Fuck! Papa Rose hadn’t seen that one coming. Had the Doc or the Sergeant-Major? “Keep the phone close by. You have to pass that on ASAP.”

  “Will do.” Mildred shook her walkie at him. “Now get a move on.”

  Turning on his heel, Papa Rose sprinted toward the air lock. That telephone line needed to be repaired. Everyone in the mine was in danger and they might not know it.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Wiping the dust away, Dirk checked the clock on his computer screen. Forty-five minutes since the explosion. That should have given Mavis enough time to get things back online and realize how much they’ve lost.

  Nancy gave him the thumbs-up as she walked in. “Our home is secure. The tunnel is filled, and it looks like the entrance to the mine is completely gone.

  “Excellent.” Not that he expected anything less. His people knew what was expected.

  Metal clanged behind him.

  He turned to see the blond schoolteacher wiggling in her bonds. The four men around her and the Asian girl tensed. Each of the men sported bruises and claw marks on their faces. Gavin set his hand on Blondie’s shoulder and squeezed. She flinched and quieted down. Good, she was learning some manners.

  He nodded to Bonnie. “Start the feed and let me know when it’s live.”

  Dirk straightened his jacket. No point in wasting a perfectly good speech if Mavis and her conspirators weren’t receiving his signal.

  “You won’t get away with this.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the Asian teacher. Were these two tag-teaming it? Just when one got under control, the other acted up.

  Cole leaned down and whispered into her ear.

  She stiffened but anger blazed in her eyes.

  “Shh, Tina. Let them think they’re safe. They’ll learn different once Eddie arrives.”

  “No one is coming for you,” Dirk repeated for the tenth time. If they weren’t young females and experienced teachers, he would have thrown them out fifty-two minutes ago. As it was, the ratio of men to women was not quite one to one. Some workers might be forced to share a woman.

  He’d volunteer them if they didn’t behave.

  Gavin adjusted his tie. “You want me address the loser on TV, Bossman?”

  The little twerp still thought he was something. Maybe Dirk should take the woman, Audra, away until he learned who was really in charge.

  Bonnie fussed over Dirk’s hair and plucked a stray strand from his lapel before backing away. “I’ll count down from five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

  The light on Audra’s camera blinked on.

  “Doctor Spanner. Mavis.” He chuckled. “When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them to another… Well, as a learned person yourself, I think you’d recognize the first lines of the American Declaration of Independence.”

  “I can’t believe he reads.”

  Dirk straightened. Just who did the schoolteacher think she was? He speared Gavin with a look.

  The actor hustled to Audra’s side. In the reflection of his computer screen, Dirk saw him wrap an arm around her. The uppity broad’s jaw thrust forward.

  “Our little fireworks wasn’t a shot at the Battle of Lexington and Concord, but I think the world heard us declare our independence from your little police state. We tried to do things the legal way, work within the system, but you coerced the population and forced the people to vote for you.”

  Dirk took a steadying breath. Easy now, a little faster and the world might think he was a zealot. He wasn’t and he wouldn’t give Mavis any ammunition to recruit outsiders to her cause.

  “We cannot and will not stand by while you guide the rest of humanity into the rut that led us to this end in the first place. We, the people of Section Seven, declare our independence from you and your Godless regime.”

  On cue, his followers clapped their approval.

  Dirk nodded graciously and clasped his hands in his lap. “You should know that we are firm in our resolution. To that end, we have placed bricks of explosives strategically on the mountain. If any of your people attempt to leave the hell of your own creation, we blow every air shaft, entrance and crack in the mountain.”

  He heard two gasps behind him. Ahh, so the teachers were finally learning the truth of their predicament.

  Standing, Gavin shouted, “Here. Here.”

  Others joined him until the noise echoed in the tunnels.

  Dirk quieted them. “If you stay in your cesspit and leave us alone, we’ll leave you alone.”

  Maybe. After all, why should he be honorable to people who cheated and stole elections?

  “Adieu.” He inclined his head and watched the camera’s light blink out. It was done. They were free.

  Bonnie glided to his side, lifted his hand and kissed it. “You did it.”

  Yes, he did. “We did, my dear. We.”

  “Enjoy it while it lasts.” Audra scoffed.

  Dirk rose from his seat. “Gavin, take your bride and celebrate. You, too, Cole.”

  Hands bound behind their backs and chins raised high, the women marched from the room.

  “Don’t let me see them until they learn proper respect.”

  Bonnie clapped her hands and shooed the rest of his people out. “Everyone please enjoy this day of celebration and relaxation. Tomorrow the work of our new nation will begin.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  “I can see the light, Big D,” Robertson mumbled. “Should I go into it?”

  David rubbed his eyes. He’d been knocked on the helmet so many times during the last two cave-ins all he saw was stars. If Mavis didn’t hurry up and rescue them, she’d find one good-looking head and a mangled body. That was not how he’d spent the last few hours dreaming of their reunion.

  “Go into it,” Ray mumbled. “Just let the rest of us die in peace.”

  “Knew the Sergeant-Major should have drowned us.” Vegas shifted on his ledge, rocks tumbled into the pile filling in the pool. “Anything would be better than death by chatter.”

  “Love you too, Vegas.” Robertson thumped on his chest before flicking a kiss at him with his middle finger. “I’ll ask Saint Peter to send you to purgatory, not Hell.”

  David yawned then opened his eyes. Light cut a square about twenty feet above him. What the fuck? He blinked, then rose onto his elbows. The light was still there. “Michaelson. Light ‘er up.”

  The mechanic stared at the gold rectangle in his hand for a minute before flipping open the top and thumbing
the wheel. A high flame shot out of the top. “It works.”

  “We’re getting air and we may have a way out.” David pointed up.

  Fabric rustled around him.

  “Damn.” Ray kicked at a rock near his foot. “Robertson did see the light.”

  Robertson hopped onto a boulder in the center of the filled pool and shielded his eyes. “How we gonna get up there?”

  “I can climb it.” Michaelson shuffled closer to the vertical wall. Reaching up, he grabbed a protruding rock. When he tugged, the rock and several smaller ones came down.

  “Not going to happen.” With their luck, the rest of the wall would collapse on top of them. But there was another way. David smiled. His men would hate it. “Ray, plant yourself right here.” He pointed to the flat boulder.

  Ray braced his feet and glanced up. “Ah, hell, I knew I should have stopped lifting weights when I arrived.”

  “Vegas, you’re next.” David set his hands on his knees and bent over.

  “Yeah, well at least you’re not Robertson’s footstool.” Vegas planted a boot on David’s thigh then his back before standing on Ray’s shoulders. Resting his head against the rock, he clasped one hand behind his back.

  David held his breath. Getting walked on sucked. Hell, his men only loved the drill because they loved to walk all over him.

  Ray shifted and steadied himself with a hand on the wall. “You act like your shoes don’t stink.”

  “Robertson.” David jerked his head. If the private took a running jump like last time they performed this bonehead maneuver, he’d personally rip off his privates.

  Robertson ran his hand down his face. “Sure thing, Big D.” With a small bounce, he walked over David, climbed up Ray and, using Vegas’s hands, managed to make it onto the man’s shoulders. He grabbed a ledge that had been exposed in the recent collapse. “All right, Grease Monkey, you’re on.”

  Michaelson knotted his boots and tossed them over his shoulder. “Incoming.”

  David grunted as the sweaty feet climbed him in two steps.

  “Dude!” Ray coughed and turned his head.

  The human ladder wobbled when Michaelson hit Vegas’s shoulders. “Christ Almighty, was that his feet?”