Refuge Book 3 - Lost in the Echo

by Jeremy Bishop

  This one, however, was top-notch—no doubt about that. Mr. Herman had once worked for NASA, so it made sense he would have the best equipment for stargazing. Only it was daytime now, and there were no stars. Still, that didn’t stop them from opening the hatch—a button on the wall disengaged it, the motor quietly humming. Radar paused before turning on the telescope, but they had Mrs. Herman’s blessing. Lisa gave him a nod, and Radar grinned, turned it on and motioned her to the viewfinder. She leaned in and placed her eye against the soft rubber.

  “I don’t see anything,” she said, stepping back and giving Radar a try.

  He leaned down and squinted through the viewfinder. He stood that way for a long moment, hunched over, before he said, “I think I see the Death Star!”

  She swatted at him, a playful swat, and he laughed as he caught her hand and pulled her to him. They were close again, their noses only inches apart. She tried to keep all thoughts of her parents from her mind, tried to lose herself in the moment and just forget about what was happening in town and to the people. How Sheriff Rule was dead and so was Mrs. Beaumont, and that her parents were somewhere or maybe they were nowhere, dead and gone in a void-like space, and maybe—

  Lisa heard it then, the buzz, distant but gaining in volume, a sound like a lawnmower engine drifting on the wind. “Do you hear that?”

  Radar opened his eyes. He’d been leaning in for a kiss. After what they had shared less than 24 hours ago—what now felt like days—Lisa understood the urge to continue with their desires. Teenage hormones, however, would need to be put aside for the time being.

  She saw a flash of disappointment in Radar’s eyes, but then he cocked his head and nodded. He heard it too.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  The buzzing grew in volume and pitch. Now it sounded less like a lawnmower and more like an insect. A lot of insects.

  Radar crossed the floor of the observatory, heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Lisa asked, her fear growing.

  He placed his hand on the doorknob. “I want to see what it is.”

  Her first thought was of that monster flying in the sky, the one they had seen outside of Soucey’s Market, and she wanted to tell him not to open the door. But then the light streaming in through the telescope’s porthole darkened. Radar’s eyes shifted away from hers, looking up. The half-smile on his face dropped away.

  “What is it?” she asked, but her voice could barely be heard above the buzzing—which, she now realized, was coming from right outside.

  Not from just outside—from above.

  “Lisa.” Radar’s voice a faint whisper. “Do not turn around.”

  15

  The men moved them toward the far wall and had them sit down on the cold concrete. A thin pipe ran the length of the wall, and Boyle used several pairs of zip-ties to bind their hands behind their backs and around the pipe. Osterman took strips of duct tape and sealed each of their mouths shut.

  Frost had never felt so helpless in her entire life. She had been placed in difficult situations in the past, certainly, but nothing like this. Having your weapon taken away from you, your pockets searched, then being tied up and gagged, and made to sit on the floor like a disobedient child—it was all so depressing that Frost felt as if a piece of her soul had been chipped away.

  After dumping the weapons confiscated from Frost and the others in the still sizzling SUV, Osterman and Boyle moved farther back toward the center of the hanger, whispering to each other. Finally, Boyle nodded and Osterman approached them. He crouched down, rested his arms on his knees, and clasped his hands together.

  “So here’s the deal,” he said, his voice soft. “We’re not sure yet what to do with you. The easiest thing would be to just kill you, but luckily for you, we’re not the murdering type. We have killed before, yes, but that was in service to our country.” He paused a beat, another grin spreading across his face. “And sometimes hired work on the side, but that’s a story for another time.”

  Frost made a noise. It wasn’t a loud noise—she couldn’t make much noise at all with the tape over her mouth—but it was enough to draw Osterman’s attention.

  He cocked his ear at her. “Something you’d like to say?”

  Frost made the noise again.

  Osterman said, “I’m going to save us all some time and energy and get the basics out of the way. No, I don’t know exactly what’s going on here. Yes, myself and Boyle and the rest of us work for a private security firm, Sidewinder, contracting our services to the U.S. military. We were told this was a mission of the utmost importance. We weren’t told what that mission was, only that it was a need-to-know basis and we didn’t need to know. Thing is, the others that were with us—eight more damned good men—are dead now. Half of us died in that fucking darkness. We were caught off guard. By the time the sun came out, most of our men were dead.”

  He shook his head, staring off into a distance that only he could see in his mind.

  “Anyway, we don’t know what’s going on here, what exactly this new world is, but we do know whatever Mother Nature is in this place, she’s a coldhearted bitch. That thing that attacked your friend here?” He motioned to Dodge. “Boyle and I think it’s a root from that massive tree just outside the border. Yeah, a fucking root. The plant life here seems—from what we’ve seen—to be predatory and carnivorous. The reason I’m whispering? The reason we take light steps? Because the tree senses the vibrations in the ground. That’s how it’s able to track us.”

  He tilted his head to the side, said, “Boyle, what did you say it was like?”

  “That Kevin Bacon movie. The one with the giant worms.”

  “That’s right,” Osterman said, nodding, turning back to the group. “The only protection we have now is the concrete beneath our feet. But who’s to say just how deep this concrete goes? That tree gets pissed off enough, there’s a chance it could break through even here.”

  Frost made another noise, this time more urgent.

  Osterman eyed her for a long moment, then stood up and approached her. He leaned down and pinched the corner of the duct tape between his fingers, paused and said, “Don’t waste my time, okay?”

  He ripped the tape from her mouth, and Frost immediately moved her lips, the taste of the tape disgusting.

  Glaring up at Osterman, she said, “If you’re going to kill us, just get it over with.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said? We have no intention of killing you. But we can’t quite let you walk around free, either, making a fucking racket. Not while that tree is out there.”

  “People back in town know we came here. I’m supposed to call in on the radio every fifteen minutes. If I don’t, the deputies back in town are instructed to come look after us.”

  Osterman snorted another laugh. “Lady, do you think we’re stupid? We didn’t come into this town unprepared. We know all about you. Besides you and Sheriff Rule, there isn’t much left of the Refuge police department. Speaking of which, why did you say you were the sheriff earlier? Did something happen to Rule?”

  Frost bit her lip. She didn’t want to give this man the satisfaction of the truth.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Osterman said. “The fact is, I’m calling your bluff, because I bet nobody is coming to your rescue. And even if there is, they’re going to have to deal with the tree. Boyle and I did you all a courtesy earlier, when we tried to keep you away. It’s not our fault you decided to ignore it.”

  “Who brought you here?” Frost asked.

  “I told you,” Osterman said. “Uncle Sam.”

  “You must have a name. A real name.”

  He thought and then nodded. “The man who’s paying us very well, whose name is on the checks, but I doubt he’s a real person.”

  “All the money in the world won’t benefit you when you’re dead,” Frost said.

  “This is true. That’s why Boyle and me don’t plan to die any time soon. Aren’t you paying attention?”


  Frost knew that pointing out the fact that giant trees and ash monsters probably didn’t accept greenbacks wouldn’t get her very far. So she focused on getting an answer to the nagging question. “Give me the name,” she said. “If he’s not real, what does it matter?”

  Neither man answered. “You both are clearly capable of protecting yourselves,” Frost said, changing tactics again. “You could help us protect this town.”

  “Sorry, but that’s not part of our orders,” Osterman said.

  “What are your orders?” Frost asked.

  “Sorry,” the soldier said. “My turn to ask questions. What brought you all here?”

  Frost said nothing.

  “Seriously?” Osterman said. “After everything I’ve told you already, you can’t answer my simple question?”

  Frost just stared back at him.

  Shaking his head, Osterman replaced the strip of duct tape over Frost’s mouth. He stood up, stared down at the others, then lifted his chin at Winslow.

  “How about you?”

  Winslow just glared back at him.

  To Griffin: “You?”

  No response.

  “What about you, Pastor Dodge? Don’t look surprised. Didn’t I say we came to this town prepared?”

  Dodge just stared.

  “Okay,” Osterman said, “now you’re all starting to piss me off. How about you, Boyle? You getting pissed off?”

  Boyle, standing tall and firm with his arms crossed, said, “That I am.”

  “How about you?” Osterman said, crouching down now in front of Charley. “Are you going to tell us what we want to know...Chuck?”

  Charley made a soft noise, what could have been construed as a mewl.

  Osterman peeled back the tape. “Say that again?”

  “I don’t know anything!”

  The shout echoed around the hanger. For a moment, silence followed it, then the ground shook.

  “You stupid shit,” Osterman said, pushing the tape back on Charley’s lips. “You trying to get us all killed?”

  Charley tried to say something through the tape.

  Osterman stood back up, took a deep breath. “I’m tired of playing the nice guy. The fact is, we need to know what brought you all here. And if you’re not going to tell us willingly, then we’re going to have to force it out of you. And as of right now, I think it’s clear who the weakest one is.”

  He nodded at Boyle, and Boyle stepped forward. Both men scooped Charley up with a hand under each arm. Charley made another mewling noise, kicking his feet, and the ground beneath them trembled slightly again.

  “Knock it off!” Osterman breathed and slapped Charley across the face.

  Charley stopped struggling, briefly, before starting up again.

  This time Boyle rammed his fist into Charley’s stomach. Charley doubled over.

  Frost watched as the men dragged Charley toward the doorway. He stared back at her with wide, desperate eyes, telling her that no matter how helpless she felt, he had now given up all hope.

  16

  It was a wasp, or what looked like a wasp, a giant insect, that was for sure, the size of a border collie. The colors were off, though. Instead of black and yellow, it was reddish all over, like it’d been dipped in blood, and the urge to scream became almost too much.

  But Lisa didn’t scream. She held it back. The wasp was crawling through the porthole, its long antennae twitching, its massive black eyes staring back at her and Radar.

  I should have listened to him, she thought. I shouldn’t have turned around.

  Something touched her hand, and Lisa nearly screamed. She looked down and saw Radar’s hand, giving hers a tight squeeze. He was watching her, she realized, watching her from the corner of his eye, and there was something in his frozen gaze that he wanted her to understand. But what was it? All she knew was that they were trapped with this giant insect, and that totally sucked.

  The wasp crawled just a little farther into the observatory. It buzzed its wings for a beat, the sound palpable. The beating wings kicked up a breeze strong enough to shift her hair.

  Radar released her hand. She glanced at him again, slowly, not wanting to spook the wasp. She believed that if they didn’t move a muscle, if they became lifeless statues, the insect wouldn’t see them.

  He was looking at something across the observatory. The space wasn’t far at all—barely fifteen feet—but it seemed vast with a giant insect invading it.

  Outside the observatory came the sound of even more buzzing. It was impossible to tell just how many more wasps there were. The door was right behind them, but any chance of escape was gone. The moment they opened that door, they would be greeted with several more wasps. And what if they weren’t? The distance from the observatory to the house would take what, thirty seconds to cross? Radar was a fast runner, but Lisa’s top speed was closer to a jog. While the distance wasn’t immense, she doubted they could outrun the giant insects.

  This wasp, however, was their main problem at the moment. It crawled in even farther, its long, needle-like stinger the only thing still poking out of the porthole. In another couple of seconds it would be completely inside the observatory.

  Radar continued gazing at something on the other side of the room. She followed his eyes, at first not sure what he was looking at, and then it clicked.

  A metal stool sat beside a small desk. It was the only thing in the observatory that they could use as a weapon. The desk, while small, was completely out of the question. So was the telescope, which was bolted down, and even if it wasn’t, she doubted either of them had the strength to lift it up over their heads to try to smash the wasp.

  The wasp crawled even farther into the observatory, using the telescope as a kind of bridge. Lisa stared past it for a moment, at the blue sky outside…until another antenna moved into frame.

  Lisa gasped.

  Radar twisted his face toward her, giving her a warning glare. Then he noticed she was staring at something and followed her gaze.

  He stood completely still for a moment, and then whispered, “Shut the porthole,” and he bolted toward the stool.

  The wasp paused for a beat, then it turned and watched Radar for another beat, before its wings started buzzing and it launched right at him.

  Radar dove at the last second, grabbing the legs of the stool, and as he pivoted on the ground, he swung the stool back at the wasp.

  The seat of the stool connected with the wasp’s head. It fell on the floor, motionless for a moment, stunned, and then it started to buzz again—an angry buzz in Lisa’s mind, a very pissed off buzz.

  “Lisa, now!”

  She bolted toward the telescope. The button was on the wall. All she needed to do was push it. Once she did, the porthole would close. Simple as that. Only, based on how the porthole opened, it wouldn’t close very quickly. It would take a couple of seconds, and who knew just how long before the second wasp crawled inside.

  She heard Radar grunt as he swung the stool again. The wasp’s buzz grew louder. The wasp outside, perhaps drawn by the noise, leaned over the open portal and peered down.

  She punched the button.

  Nothing happened.

  “It’s not working!”

  Radar didn’t answer her. He couldn’t. Currently he was trying to climb to his feet while the wasp twitched toward him. Its antennae, which had been straight before, were now crooked, bent in the middle where he’d struck them.

  “Radar!”

  He started to glance her way, but that was when the wasp rose up and flew at him again. He swung the stool a third time, harder now, knocking the wasp away. It hit the ground but immediately bounced back.

  The second wasp, meanwhile, began crawling through the porthole. Radar was already having trouble fighting the first. He wouldn’t be able to manage two at the same time.

  Lisa punched the button again, and again, and again. Each time nothing happened. Panic rose, but she looked for a weapon. Besides the st
ool, there was the desk and the telescope, and both were too large and heavy to—

  The telescope!

  She hurried forward, remembering Radar looking at the buttons that controlled the telescope. One of those buttons made the telescope expand, the top end moving outside the observatory. Which button that was, she couldn’t remember, but that didn’t matter.

  Lisa started punching buttons, feeling like Dee Dee let loose in Dexter’s Lab.

  The third button did the trick. The telescope hummed as the top began to expand, just as the second wasp had started to crawl inside. The giant insect buzzed angrily as the telescope pushed it away. It appeared to be pushing back, but the telescope’s mechanisms worked against it. A few seconds later, the telescope was completely elongated, and while there was still space around it, it wasn’t enough for the wasp to slip through.

  Radar had managed to climb to his feet, gripping the stool in both hands. The wasp came at him again, only this time it wasn’t as nimble. Its antennae weren’t just crooked anymore; they were snapped at ninety degree angles, barely connected. One of its wings was torn, as well. Radar paused, the stool cocked back over his shoulder. He feinted twice, making the wasp hop back. Stepping forward a third time, Radar swung hard, bringing the stool’s seat down on the creature’s head. It fell to the floor, legs twitching, one of its wings still buzzing. Radar raised the stool over his head and brought it down onto the wasp’s head, again and again and again.

  “Radar!”

  He stopped, the stool over his head, and glanced back at her. There was something different at that moment in his eyes, something that scared her. He blinked and that something disappeared. He was the Radar she had always known and now loved.

  “I think it’s dead,” she said.

  Radar glanced down at the motionless wasp, its head little more than a chunky paste. He nodded, his shoulders dropping, and he let go of the stool. It clattered to the ground.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  Outside, the buzzing swelled.