Mapmaker

  A Denali Park Ranger stood at the doorway of the house, cradling a rifle. He was about six feet tall and twenty-five, with reddish-brown hair and a ruddy face from the cold. He wore a forest-green uniform and hat, a metal badge pinned to his chest.

  “You’re trespassing,” he said in a low, harsh voice. A second man stepped into the room from a doorway in the back I hadn’t noticed. I lifted my arms overhead, so they would know I wasn’t dangerous.

  “I’m just … I’m lost,” I told them. “I need help finding my way back to the camp.”

  The two men grabbed me by the shoulders, pushing me forward toward the back of the cabin. I felt the barrel of the gun at the back of my head.

  “Please no,” I whispered.

  Was he going to shoot me against the wall? Is this what my father had stumbled across? Were these the men who killed him?

  One of the men pulled open a door, which was concealed in the wooden boards, and pushed me into a dark closet. The door closed behind me.

  The room was pitch-black.

  Then I felt the floor sink beneath me.

  A bright fluorescent light lit up the ceiling. The room I’d been forced into was in fact a steel box, some kind of elevator. The first ranger stood beside me, the gun still gripped in his hands. There had been no sign of this from outside.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. I could feel the downward movement but I was overcome by claustrophobia. The guard didn’t answer. He focused his eyes on the wall. How could this have not been visible from the outside? I hadn’t noticed anything, no electricity cables, nothing, just the wilderness. All I wanted was the door to open. The stainless steel was polished and new, our reflections blurred against the steel.

  The elevator stopped. All four doors slid open, revealing a brightly lit hallway made of cinder block.

  “Follow me,” he ordered.

  How far was I from the surface? I should have concentrated harder. We had been in the elevator for what seemed like an endless amount of time, but we were moving slowly.

  The guard led me into a long, brightly lit hallway. The walls were painted a yellowish white, like the hallways of a school. That wasn’t the only part that reminded me of school—there was a specific smell, a mixture of hospital and cafeteria. Rows of long fluorescent lights lit the way along the hall. There were no windows, only closed doors five feet apart. Door after door after door: they all looked exactly alike, no numbers or any other distinguishing features.

  I remember reading about the highest security prisons in the world, that they were underground. Is that what this was? A prison? Was this where Connor was? I was completely afraid of this place but at the same time I felt a spark of hope.

  The guard opened one of the doors. Inside was a room with a sand-colored sofa, a black-and-white geometric rug, a painting of a ship at sea on the wall. My eyes were immediately drawn to a large window open halfway, with a view of a field with a red barn in the distance. I could feel summer air coming through it.

  “Wait here,” the guard said. “Someone will be here to see you soon.”

  The guard left the room. My jaw dropped; he left the door open. I was sure he would be keeping guard outside the hallway door, but when I went to look he wasn’t in the hallway. No one was. The hallway of doors stretched as far as I could see. I looked at the ceiling, at the walls; surveillance cameras were mounted at every angle.

  I was afraid to step over the threshold, back into the hallway. Nothing was stopping me, it was just a feeling that kept me from trying to escape right then. I sat down on the bed. I was surprised no one had asked me for my coat. I looked out the window at the pretty meadow. The blades of grass blew in the warm summer breeze; the air smelled of freshly cut grass and rain. Two cardinals sang from the branch of the tree.

  The scene was so beguiling that I lost sense of time, or that I was alone, but mostly that what I was looking at was not real. We were not in western Massachusetts; there was no meadow outside this window. Yet the smell and the feel of the air, even the sound made it seem like it was completely real. For a minute or two, I watched, thinking it was real, too.

  “Tanya.” A woman’s voice startled me.

  “I’m Dr. Luanne Preston. It’s so nice to finally meet you. We have heard so much about you.” She smiled at me, a bright smile of perfectly straight teeth that looked very white against her plum-colored lipstick.

  “What?” I heard myself say.

  She was tall, with shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair turned under at her chin. She was pretty, too, in her fifties or early sixties. She wore a lab coat over a matching pale blue skirt set, clear stockings, black patent pumps, and a strand of pearls around her neck. “We know about you, Tanya. And now we’d like you to tell us what exactly you know about us.”

  “I … I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Everything will be fine. You will be safe here with us, but you need to cooperate. Do you understand?” The doctor smiled after every sentence. She pulled up a chair and sat down in front of me. Another woman, a nurse, with curly short brown hair and a pale round face sat on a chair in the corner, transcribing.

  I nodded. My palms were sweaty. I took a deep breath, trying to force myself to be calm. “I really don’t know anything about this place,” I said.

  It was the truth. I had no idea from the maps that there would be an underground building or compound or whatever this place was.

  “You just stumbled upon us?” She laughed at her own joke. She ran her finger along the string of pearls as she laughed.

  “I was looking for … what happened to my father.” I couldn’t hide the anger in my voice as I spoke. “Was he killed here?” Tears welled in my eyes.

  “We’ll answer all your questions about your father soon enough. And on that front, you have nothing to fear.”

  “My father …” I didn’t know what I felt. It was close to rage. These people had robbed me of my sole parent. They had put Beth and me through unspeakable suffering.

  “Tell me who else knows we are here,” the doctor persisted.

  “What about Connor?” I stood up, but the guard reappeared in the door. My knees buckled and my legs nearly gave out from under me.

  She flashed an easy smile, almost as if she were a coach and I’d missed an easy shot. “We ask the questions, okay? Tell us the information we need.”

  I couldn’t speak. I seethed with hatred. I hated her phony smile, her voice, and her cruel eyes. I would never tell her a thing.

  “Tanya, let me explain,” she continued. “This can be a very nice place to be. It can also be a not-so-nice place to be. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I forced out.

  “I need the names of the two people who brought you here this morning.”

  “Harrison Worth,” I snapped. “Alison, his secretary. They’re the ones who brought me here. That’s the truth.” In a way, it was.

  The woman stood up abruptly, pushing her chair behind her. Her smile disappeared. She glanced at the nurse and the guard, who both exited.

  “That’s enough for now. Maybe you’re hungry, Tanya? Something tells me you’ll remember more after lunch.”

  I followed behind the doctor past more doors and rooms that all looked exactly alike. We turned left, right, and then right again. I counted my footsteps for a reference of where we had come in from, starting at the elevator. I hated to not know where I was, but it was obvious this place was designed like a maze. Designed to disorient, and it was working.

  I tried not to think of Cleo and Gretchen. They were professionals at this sort of thing, I kept telling myself, whatever this sort of thing even was. I’d seen how they’d behaved; they clearly knew how to get in and out of dangerous places undetected. They must have fled in the smoke and confusion, as I had. If they’d been hurt, they would have screamed, cried for help. I’d been the only one screaming. No, they’d slipped away and were probably getting their hands on a new plane. Cleo was the kind of person who always ha
d a backup plan. That’s what I told myself to stay strong, anyway.

  We reached an elevator, and she swiped a card. The steel door opened. It was two feet by two feet. I stood between the doctor and the guard. The elevator didn’t feel as though it moved at all, even though we were in there for over a minute.

  The doors on all sides slid upward, and I found myself standing in a round room. I blinked for a moment, not trusting my eyes. It was an opulent dining hall. Oak tables set with fresh flowers, a candle at each centerpiece. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling casting a pretty, soft glow. The “windows” looked out to a meadow and lane.

  “You might want to sit over there.”

  Dr. Preston pointed to a table in the corner where a man sat alone eating a sandwich. My legs nearly gave out from under me.

  My father is here. My father …

  He was a little thinner, his hair a little greyer. But that slender face, those gentle eyes behind the wire-rim frames were the same.

  He’s alive. My father is alive.

  He wore jeans and a T-shirt, the kind of thing he’d wear on a Saturday afternoon back in Amherst, relaxing around the shed. It was summer there. What was it here? This was the place that time forgot. Seasons didn’t matter. Nothing did—not even death, apparently.

  I wanted to run to him, to call his name. I stood, unable to move.

  I looked around for the doctor, but she was gone. Only then did my feet move toward the table. He was facing a window, so he didn’t see me. I looked at his breakfast, scrambled eggs and wheat toast, coffee and juice. All so normal. Even Tabasco sauce, which he loved.

  “Dad,” I breathed.

  He didn’t turn. Had he heard me? I reached out to touch his shoulder. My hand was visibly trembling. “Dad?”

  He turned at the touch and his eyes met mine. They flickered behind his glasses. A smile appeared briefly. “It’s me, Dad. It’s Tanya.” Everything else I wanted to say died in my throat. A painful lump lodged itself there. Tears blurred my vision. Was he going to stand up? Hug me? Wrap his arms around me and hold me tightly? He sat there staring at me as though I were someone he knew but couldn’t quite place.

  “Tanya?” he finally whispered.

  He reached forward, covering my hand in his. I noticed his skin looked pale and his hands shook, too.

  “Sit down. Have breakfast with me. Or how about lunch?”

  I did as he said, but I felt as if I were watching myself from a distance. My limbs obeyed commands that were too surreal to process. I wondered if I had died. My dad turned, beckoning a waiter, who carried over a tray of food. On the tray was a beautiful green salad, a steaming bowl of penne with tomato sauce and grated cheese, a glass of sparkling water with lemon. I poked at the fresh greens. They looked as if they’d been plucked that morning. My father must have read my mind.

  “They grow it here,” he said. “There’s a greenhouse on-site.”

  The food did look delicious. I knew I wouldn’t be able to touch it. I felt an anguish too unbearable to name. My father was alive, but this man across from me was not the Michael Barrett who’d left for Cambodia all those months ago.

  “Dad,” I whispered. “We thought you were dead. Beth still thinks you’re dead.”

  “I’m not dead,” he said in a quiet monotone.

  “You’ve been here all this time?”

  He nodded.

  “But you didn’t tell us. You couldn’t, I’m guessing.” Hoping. Praying.

  Again with the noncommittal nod.

  “We thought you were dead,” I repeated, enunciating the words carefully. My voice rose in frustration. “Do you understand that? Do you know what you put us through? Do you even miss us? Miss Beth? Miss me?”

  He nodded once more, blinking several times. “I do. I do, very much.”

  Maybe it was time to try a different tack. “Dad, Harrison tried to kill me.”

  My father turned his vacant, rheumy eyes in my direction. “Harrison is my best friend. He’s your godfather. He would never hurt you.”

  It was obvious he wasn’t going to tell me anything I needed to know. Either he knew he was being watched, or he had been brainwashed. Given that he was more interested in his meal than seeing his daughter, the latter seemed more likely. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

  “Is Connor here?” I asked. My voice caught on his name.

  Again, he didn’t answer. He took a bite of his eggs. “We are doing such amazing things here. Things that are going to change the world—”

  “Dad,” I interrupted.

  “Listen to me, Tanya. Imagine a place where no living creature ever gets lost again. Remember how sad you were when Bootsy disappeared? How you searched for her in the woods every day after school?” His voice had a soft lilt.

  There were people all around, but no one seemed to be paying attention to us. I glanced at the ceiling, at the walls, searching for tiny microphones or cameras.

  “No one will be lost in the future,” he added. “I have so much time to work here, and the work is so close to being finished. Nothing to worry about.” His eyes were drier now, but still glassy, like his smile. “Do you know what else?”

  I shook my head. I felt sick and empty. I could see now what Dr. Luanne Preston meant: this could be a not-very-nice place.

  “There’s an ocean here,” he finished.

  I raised my eyebrows. “An ocean?”

  He laughed again, more like a chuckle. Not his real laugh. Not the laugh my real dad had. His eyes darted across the room. The doctor was walking toward us. For the second time, my father reached out for my hand. He spoke quickly. “The air and water come from outside.” He dropped my hand and took a bite of toast. It was the first time his voice had sounded normal, the first time he’d appeared even remotely like himself.

  “Tanya.” The doctor stood over us. She placed a small cupful of pink and white pills in front of my father. He took the pills and swallowed them.

  “Michael,” she said. “Did you have a nice visit with your daughter?”

  I watched my dad nod with polite and enthusiastic subservience, like a child. They’d destroyed him. This sick woman or someone just like her had killed the Michael Barrett who’d been my father. Dr. Luanne Preston. What kind of a doctor was she? I wished I’d grabbed the pills she’d given my dad and thrown them at her. It was only the desperate hope of finding Connor that kept me in line. I had to behave right now.

  “Michael, it’s time to go back to the office,” Dr. Preston said.

  “Yes, I suppose it is.” He stood.

  She turned to me. “His program is really coming along. Your father is doing a wonderful job here. Our hope is that you can work for us, too, someday.”

  Our hope. It wasn’t hard to smile at that. Masking the horror took some effort.

  “Goodbye Tanya,” my father said formally. He held out his hand for me to shake. I could feel the watchful eyes of Dr. Luanne Preston on me as I shook back.

  “Bye.” I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to fight back tears.

  I had to ask to see the beach. There was something my father was trying to tell me. Something I didn’t understand yet. I watched my father make his way out of the dining hall. The disassociated feeling—of being trapped in a bad dream—began to fade. The anger returned.

  “When will I see him again?” I demanded.

  “When you answer our questions,” Dr. Preston replied.

  “I already told you everything I know.”

  “Tanya, if you cooperate, you can have a nice life here, like your father does. You can work beside him, like you would have done at MapOut.” The elevator descended from some hidden place in the ceiling. “How about a tour?” she asked pleasantly, heading toward it. She swiped her key card and one of the doors opened.

  Inside, the elevator looked more like a security checkpoint. A black-uniformed security guard sat at a desk, a submachine gun on the table in front of him, next to an office phone. Two screens lit up behind him black a
nd white, hazy with static. She picked up the phone—connected by a cord to the receiver—and pressed the buttons quickly.

  A voice answered. “Dr. Preston 4476. Outgoing call.”

  A sound rang out, like a dial tone.

  A man’s voice anwered. I recognized it immediately. It was Harrison.

  One of the screens flickered, and the interference faded. A crystal clear image of Harrison appeared. He was dressed business-casual, sitting at his vast desk in his plush Amherst MapOut office. Judging from the angle, the camera was hidden somewhere in the ceiling. I shuddered involuntarily. Dr. Preston had probably watched me from this angle when I’d greeted Harrison in that office on my first day. Maybe my dad had, too. Harrison was so far away, and yet he still filled me with fear. Or maybe it was the fear of knowing I would always be watched no matter where I was, from this point forward.

  The second screen flickered, and I appeared in sharp black and white, in real time. I glanced around in a panic, struggling to determine where the camera was. I couldn’t.

  “Harrison,” Dr. Preston said. “Tanya is here. I’ve explained that she can help us here. Work for our company.”

  Harrison’s face was damp and pale. Dark circles ringed his eyes. He looked terrible. “So our deal stands,” he choked out. “Connor will be released.”

  “Yes, our deal stands,” Dr. Preston said, sounding bored. “Though I have to add that it should have been much easier to negotiate. I hope you’ll reflect on that.”

  Before he could respond, she pressed a button on the phone. The screens went black. Only now did I realize that the security guard had been staring at me the entire time, unblinking. I wondered what he would do if I suddenly lunged at Dr. Preston. If I pulled out the weapon Cleo had given me from beneath my sleeve and shot her. I still wasn’t sure exactly what it did. Would it kill her? Knock her out? Actually, it wasn’t that hard to guess what the guard would do. He’d pump me full of submachine-gun bullets, and then this elevator would take my body somewhere to be erased from existence.