by Bill Bunn
Cupboard.
Steve opened a set of cupboard doors under the worktable. The space was completely jammed with equipment. Now on his belly, Steve slithered across the floor to the next cupboard door. He opened it. A little room.
Enough for me.
He flattened himself and wormed inside. He slid the glassware toward the front, moving his body to the back. With the cupboard door closed, he sat in complete darkness except for the light straining though a venting grate just above the cupboard doors. The muffled noises of the workers became sharp and clear through the vent.
As Steve quietly adjusted his body to the cupboard, the mouth of his backpack gaped on the bottom of the cupboard, and his plaque—his Benu stone—slipped to the floor of the cupboard near the back.
“We’re definitely into the second stage,” said the first woman, her voice muffled by a sterile facemask. “We’ve got eight different batches of potential prima materia. And they’ve been properly blackened.”
“This looks promising,” said another woman.
“We’re definitely on the way,” the first woman stated. “Have you extracted any information from the girl and the man?”
“The man doesn’t know anything,” said one of the men. “The girl knows something, but won’t talk.”
“Make her. We’ve all invested heavily in this project. And I don’t think we should move on from where we are until we get something out of her.”
“Frank has some kind of drug that will make her talk. He’s getting it from one of his contacts. It should be here anytime.”
Sounds like Uncle Edward and Lindsay are here.
The woman instructed her staff to process the blackened dishes into sterile storage. Steve could hear the clink of the dishes as they were moved around. Then the voices exited the room. But Steve never heard the lock of the first door open, so they had probably moved to another room in this lab.
This is my chance.
The cupboard door opened noiselessly as Steve pushed it.
He stepped cautiously into the room. He hunched so his body stayed below the tops of the workbenches and scrambled closer to the door, listening for voices and footsteps.
He pushed open the first door leading to the hallway. Then he pressed his ear to the second door—the door that opened into the hallway—listening for sounds of life. Nothing. Steve pushed down the latch and opened the heavy door slightly so he could check the hallway for people. No one. After he slipped through the door, he nursed the door closed until he heard the mammoth clunk as the door locked.
He wandered carefully up the hallway, stopping outside of any doors he could find, listening. At an intersection of two main hallways, he found a room with windows that would let him keep both hallways in view.
Voices and footsteps echoed up the intersecting hallway. The sounds of activity crisscrossed around him. He peered through the bottom corner of one window—the room loomed, dark and empty. Steve tried the door and found it open. At the back of the room there was a large, metal storage cabinet.
Cabinet.
Steve opened it and found he could stand inside with the door slightly ajar.
How long until Larry gets here?
He checked the phone. There was an hour left, at least, before Steve could expect Aunt Shannon and Larry.
He watched for several minutes and saw a few people he didn’t recognize exit from one room and walk up the hallway into other rooms.
How will I figure out where Lindsay and Uncle Edward are?
He observed the room as he tried to think up some possibilities. His eyes focused on a sprinkler head poking through the ceiling into the room he was hiding in.
There’s my plan.
Steve recognized the sprinkler head from his dad’s enthusiastic instruction on fire equipment.. It was an ancient sprinkler system.
If I trip this sprinkler, every sprinkler in the building will go.
The impending mayhem brought a chuckle to Steve’s throat. He removed his coat, letting it fall to the bottom of the metal closet and sliding it out of the way. He freed his backpack from one of the sleeves and hung it on his back. Both hallways seemed clear. Ducking low, he stepped into the room.
There was a dusty old chair in the corner, and Steve brought it over and set it underneath the sprinkler head. He stood on the chair and mentally measured the space between his outstretched hand and the head. He needed something two feet longer to help him reach the sprinkler head. There wasn’t much in the room except an old garbage can. Steve retrieved it, turning it upside down on the chair.
He heard a door open close by. Back in the storage cabinet again.
A lone figure crossed the hall and entered another room. And Steve made his move. He scaled the chair and garbage can, easily reaching the sprinkler head. With both hands he snapped the lead trigger from its place; the sprinkler sprouted a flower of water, soaking him. He was down in a flash, disassembled the chair and garbage can, and closed himself in the storage cabinet again.
By setting off the one fire sprinkler, other sprinklers in the remainder of the building began to jet water. He smiled.
Everyone is getting wet.
Steve watched the sprinklers kick in, one by one up the hallway. It was a perfect indoor rainstorm.
Thank you, Dad.
Steve kept the door open a crack, just enough to monitor what was going on as water fountained from ceilings everywhere.
A thunder of activity. Angry voices shouted and called up and down the hallway. Soon he saw several drenched people running up and down the hallway, frantically yelling orders and trying to find the shut-off valve for the sprinkler system. He worked hard to keep track of which doors opened and which doors didn’t, and to try to identify any familiar figures.
People were running in and out of rooms for several minutes, slamming doors. One or two slipped and skated down the slick of water in the hallway. Others, bewildered, found the driest spots they could and waited.
As he scanned the hallways through the darkened windows, he saw Lindsay and Uncle Edward emerging out of a room at the far end of the hallway, drenched from head to toe. A couple of heavyset men prodded them forward with the barrels of guns. The two men herded the hostages down the hallway until they found another room kitty-corner from where Steve was hiding. They unlocked the door with a key and pushed both of their victims into the room. Uncle Edward fell. One of the men kicked Uncle Edward’s legs inside the room far enough that the door could swing closed.
With the door closed behind them, the men stood in the hallway as the sprinkler system spouted water into the building. A few minutes later, the sprinkler’s lively spray of water began to droop, until it was a mere drip from the sprinkler heads.
They found the water-supply tap.
Steve relaxed in his hiding spot. Now he needed to wait for the cleanup to begin and for things to calm down so he could work his way to Lindsay and Uncle Edward.
Confused and angry voices shot up and down the hallway. Steve smiled at the commotion, satisfied with all of the results.
“Our experiments are ruined!” shouted an angry voice. Another voice responded, but in another language. “Where’s Rudy? He needs to know that the experiments are over. We’re done here. If the hostages don’t give us some answers in fifteen minutes, we’ll kill them and leave,” said a voice Steve recognized.
Mr. Gold.
Mr. Gold halted in front of the windows of Steve’s hiding spot. “Come on,” he said to a man who stood against a wall. “Get things together. We’re leaving.” He whipped his head towards the guards in front of the room housing Lindsay and Uncle Edward. “We don’t need both of you guys guarding the door. Carl, give us a hand with the cleanup.” Mr. Gold turned toward the remaining guard and lowered his voice. “Don’t tell the prisoners what we’re doing. They may get desperate.” Mr. Gold gave an ugly laugh. He turned and stormed up the hallway.
The hallways were humming with activity. Steve wasn’t sure how he w
as going to get over to Uncle Edward and Lindsay—until he noticed the ceiling tiles.
That could work. I just need to get above the ceiling without anyone noticing me.
The only cover in this room was a short section of wall, behind the door.
Slowly, people seemed to regain control after the confusion. Steve watched the guard across the hall. When the guard turned to one end of the hallway to chat briefly with someone, Steve opened the door to his hiding spot, hunched down, and scuttled into the dark behind the door, taking the soaked chair and garbage can with him.
As he glanced at the door’s handle, he noticed that it could be locked with a button from his side. For extra safety, he locked the door. The chair and garbage can gave him enough height to reach the ceiling. He lifted the tile above him and slid it quietly to one side, raising his head into the space above.
In the dim, dusty light above the tile, he saw a clear path to the other room.
This will work.
Without hesitation, he pulled himself up into the space above the ceiling.
Steve carefully examined the metal bars between the ceiling tiles, checking each piece of the ceiling system before he moved to see if it would support his weight.
He set his foot gently on the center of a ceiling tile and slowly transferred his weight to the tile. The ceiling tile bent easily, and would have broken if he’d continued.
Steve pulled his weight back from the tile and stood on the metal brackets supporting the ceiling tiles; the support brackets were strapped to the building’s roof with strong cables.
Step on the support brackets.
The noise below was perfect cover for any mistakes he might make. He stepped from bracket to bracket, carefully but quickly. The ceiling shivered a little as he shifted from support to support. In two minutes he sat above the room where Uncle Edward and Lindsay were being kept. He knelt down on a slat and carefully pried up a corner of a ceiling tile. The room below was in darkness.
“Lindsay?” Steve whispered hoarsely into the darkness. “Uncle Edward?”
“Who is it?” It was Lindsay’s voice in a whispered reply.
“Lindsay, it’s Steve.”
“Really?” she said in a regular speaking voice.
“Sssssh!” Steve ordered. “Whisper!”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad I found you, too. But you need to get out of this room right away.”
These guys are planning to hurt you.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am,” Steve replied. “You need to come with me.”
“OK, Steve, we’ll try.”
“Do you have any furniture in the room?”
“I think so,” Lindsay replied. “But it’s dark down here. Let me check.” She spoke some quiet words to Uncle Edward then set about exploring the darkness of the room. “Steve?”
“Yes?” he replied.
“There’s a table and a chair.”
“Put the chair on the table and you can both climb up here,” Steve suggested.
“Steve, I don’t know if it will work. Uncle Edward is really weak.”
“He has to escape.”
“OK. We’ll get him out,” Lindsay responded.
Steve heard some shuffling below as she moved furniture and explained to Uncle Edward what needed to happen. The noise from all corners of the building helped them work undetected.
A few minutes passed and Uncle Edward’s head popped above the ceiling tile.
“Hi, Steve.” Uncle Edward smiled weakly.
“Hi,” Steve replied. Warmth flooded him as he saw his great uncle’s face again. “It’s good to see you. Let’s get you up here.”
Steve stood carefully and positioned himself just above Uncle Edward.
“Give me your hand.”
“I don’t know if I can make it.”
“Give me your hand,” Steve ordered. Uncle Edward lifted a shaking, wrinkled hand to Steve. Steve grabbed it firmly.
“Lindsay, can you push from underneath?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go.” Steve pulled as hard as he could. Uncle Edward’s body rose slowly into the space above the ceiling. Steve waited until about half of Uncle Edward’s body rose above the ceiling level, and then he pulled the old man so that he flopped onto the ceiling tile. Guiding Uncle Edward’s hands to a support bracket, Steve whispered, “Hold on to this.” The ceiling quivered as it adjusted to the new weight. “Uncle Edward, I’m going to get the rest of you up here.”
“I’ll be fine, Steve.”
“Lindsay, can you get through the tile here? Then, we can both help Uncle Edward get up here.”
“I’m coming.” Lindsay’s face popped through the opening in the ceiling, and she hopped lightly into the opening and pulled herself in.
“We can’t walk on the tiles,” Steve whispered to both of them. “If you step on a tile with your whole weight, you’ll fall through. You can only walk on the metal frame around the tiles—it’ll support our weight.”
“Gotcha,” Lindsay replied.
“Uncle Edward, you’re safe the way you are because most of your weight is resting on the brackets,” Steve said quietly. Once we get you standing up, you’ll need to keep your feet on the brackets, too.”
“I think I know what to do,” he said.
“Lindsay and I are going to pull the rest of your body up, all right?”
“Sure,” Uncle Edward replied in a weak voice.
Lindsay hopped around Uncle Edward on the ceiling frame so she could hold one of Uncle Edward’s arms. Steve did the same.
“Ready?” Lindsay asked.
“One. Two. Three,” Steve counted.
The two of them heaved Uncle Edward’s arms until his entire body lay on the ceiling tiles. The tiles bowed with his weight, but they held.
“Uncle Edward,” Lindsay called in a soft voice. “Now we’re going to help you stand.” She looked towards Steve. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
The two of them slowly hoisted Uncle Edward to his feet, making sure his feet rested on the metal frames around the ceiling tiles.
“Lindsay, you take Uncle Edward and carefully begin to work your way towards the front of the building.” He pointed out the right direction. “The police are on their way but it’s going to take a few more minutes. I’m going to clean up this room so they can’t tell how you escaped.”
“We’ll see you at the front of the building,” Lindsay said, and Steve thought he could hear her smile.
Steve hopped into the opening in the ceiling and lowered his feet into the room. He wiggled his feet around looking for the back of the chair. When he found it, he slid the toes of his shoes through a space in the back of the chair to grip it and pulled his body upwards back into the ceiling cavity. He lifted his feet behind him and slid the trunk of his body sideways, dragging the chair into the space between the roof and the ceiling tiles.
He replaced the ceiling tile and began walking towards the front of the building to catch up with Lindsay and Uncle Edward, stepping carefully on the ceiling tile’s metal framework.
As he began to catch up to the escaping pair, he heard a muffled, angry yell filter through the ceiling behind him.
Lindsay and Uncle Edward had made good progress. They had already disappeared into the dim light of the ceiling cavity and were partially concealed behind some ductwork. He turned towards the room they’d just escaped from and scanned the scene. Lindsay’s and Uncle Edward’s wet bodies left a trail of water, tracing a dark path, marking their escape route. Steve scooted over the ceiling tiles to catch up to them.
“We’re going to have to alter our escape route,” Steve whispered hoarsely to Lindsay. “They’ll follow our trail of water drips to where we are now. Let’s stick to the front of the building and make our way to the far corner, over there.” Steve pointed towards a deep corner in the building. “Once we’re in that corner, we can make our way to the back of the
building and into the warehouse.”
“Gotcha,” Lindsay replied. Uncle Edward gazed at Steve with puzzled, tired eyes as he clung to a ceiling support. “We have to keep moving, Uncle Edward,” Lindsay urged.
Lindsay positioned herself beside Uncle Edward again, and helped him turn and move slowly towards the dark corner. The activity in the rooms below still seemed loud enough to cover the noise of their progress. But then someone started yelling at people, commanding them to be quiet. Voices traveled to various parts of the building until the noise from below dwindled into silence.
Lindsay heard the silence grow in the building and stopped moving. She leaned over to Steve and whispered, “I think they know we’re in the ceiling and they’re listening for where we might be.” Steve nodded his agreement. Lindsay held her finger to her lips as Uncle Edward looked at her with a questioning look. The old man nodded uncertainly.
They listened, waiting to hear a sound of what might be happening. There were sounds of doors opening and closing quietly. The sounds grew closer.
Suddenly the cell phone in Steve’s backpack gave a loud ring. Steve grabbed his pack and fumbled inside for the phone as it trilled loudly again. Steve grabbed the phone and answered it as a man shouted from the room below them.
“Let’s move,” Lindsay said in a hoarse whisper. Uncle Edward took a firm hold of Lindsay’s arm and they began to move. Several gunshots rang out, peppering the ceiling tile with small dots of light.
“Steve, you sound like you’re in trouble,” came a hollow-sounding voice from the cell phone. Steve held the phone to his ear as he moved with Lindsay and Uncle Edward.
“Are you here?” Steve asked in a panicked whisper.
“We’re here,” Larry replied.
“Get in here,” Steve whispered hoarsely into the phone. “Get in here now. I have Lindsay and Uncle Edward with me. They’re OK. But we’re being shot at right now.”
“We’re ten minutes away,” Larry said.
“Get here, now!” Steve pleaded quietly. “And you’re going to need back up. This place is crawling with people.”