by Robert Clark
I heaved myself up another couple of feet and tried to hold back the tears. Through pain or exhaustion, or just plain old sadness, they trickled down my face. Part of me wanted to continue. To keep climbing up and find something I could use. But part of me wanted to let go and welcome death like an old friend. And that part of my mind seemed louder and clearer.
‘But if you let go, James, they’ll kill her.’
And I knew that it was true. They wouldn’t let Sophie go. Not if I failed. They wouldn’t want her walking around as a permanent reminder to their heinous crimes. I had to keep going. For her.
I pulled myself higher. Tightened my grip on the old, battered chains. Jacked my body up with my legs. Again and again. Higher and higher. Until finally, I could make out something above. A faint shimmer of blue light creeping out of a thin gap.
Every inch took a little more from me, but with the end so close, I couldn’t give up. I climbed until I could reach the ancient corrugated gate, just like the one I’d opened below. With tired hands, I wrenched it apart, and slithered out onto the landing. Every inch of muscle in my body throbbed. I rolled onto my back and panted like a hot dog.
The room was dark and silent. The light came not from some machine or lightbulb, but from a huge opening in the mountain. The ethereal glow of the moon burst through a gap in the clouds, guiding me to salvation. I was in a cave. Moonlight cast shadows off the jagged rocks, giving it the appearance of teeth inside the mouth of a shark.
Parked in the enormous alcove were rows of trucks. The big, no nonsense kind favoured by the military. The type that gets shit done properly first time round. They seemed like an appropriate choice, given the residents. Purpose built for terrain like this. I counted six trucks, and four smaller jeeps parked along the side. All sat quietly in the dark.
At the mouth of the cave were two sentries. They stood with their backs to me, silhouetted in moonlight. I could see assault rifles in their hands. But besides them, I could see no one else. All the same, I didn’t want someone to find me lying around, so I got to my feet and slid into the shadow of the nearest truck. It was a colossal vehicle. The wheel arch came up to my chest. I wondered what Second Solace wanted them for. Sure, they would be good for getting around in conditions like these, but from what I’d seen, Cage and his crew had little contact with the outside world. One truck was understandable. Not six.
I heaved myself up and looked into the back. A tanned canvas sheet covered the frame of the cargo bed, just like the trucks I’d seen back in Afghanistan. It had the same smell too. Dust and oil. But there was nothing else inside save for bad memories, so I climbed out and checked the next.
All six trucks were empty. No hidden clues. No missing FBI Agents, or wanted Nuclear Arms Specialists. I climbed out of the sixth truck and looked around. The cave had been transformed into a makeshift garage. There were tools and equipment on benches nearby. Some hanging from nails hammered into the rocks.
Beside them, a stack of oil drums rested against the rocks. As I approached, I could smell the contents. Diesel. I counted twelve drums, stacked three high in rows of four. I wondered how much that was. Not a cheap expense.
I continued my counter-clockwise search, passing across the lift entrance to follow the rear of the cave. I wondered how much of the cave was nature’s doing, and how much was man’s fault. The ground was smooth, too much so to be a coincidence. How long had this place taken to build? Cage had said he started Second Solace almost three decades ago, and with the backing of the Fenwick Association, the sky was literally the limit.
As I neared the right-hand wall, I began to think the cave had exposed all of its secrets. How wrong I was. Just as I turned my head, I almost didn’t notice the slim passage tucked away into the rock. But the Wolf did. His lurking eyes spied what mine missed. He searched every corner, every detail I overlooked, and came up with gold.
‘There,’ he said, drawing my attention to the dark passage hidden in the rocks.
It was minuscule. Barely big enough for a person to squeeze through. But that in itself was all the persuasion I needed. I peered inside. There was definitely something down there. I could hear the faint buzz of something electrical. I turned on my side and slipped into the gap. The jagged rocks scratched at my chest and back. I shuffled sideways through the tight space. The hum of electricity grew louder.
I reached the end and peered out. The noise came from a stack of computer hard drives that were merrily whirring away. Cables spooled out and snaked away along the floor and down into a hole in the ground about the width of a football. Not a chance in hell I was getting down that. If I had to guess, the space was used as a storage area. The hard drives pumped out some serious heat, but the worst of it was tempered by the bitter breeze coming from outside. Wherever the cables ended, I guessed the ventilation wasn’t as efficient.
But that wasn’t all the hidden recess had to offer. Lining the opposite wall was a desk. How it had fit through the passage was beyond me. Must have been carried through and built on the spot it now stood. Sitting atop the desk was a cluster of papers. With minimal light, I couldn't make out any of the writing without holding it up to my face and squinting hard, and even then, less than half of it was readable. Slowly and methodically, I poured over the documents, hoping to find something of use.
About half of the documents seemed to be invoices for paid goods. Vehicle parts. Tools. Equipment. All the sorts of things that couldn't be built out of wood or stone. If any of the invoices were suspicious, they weren't setting off any alarm bells in my head.
The other half was made up of an assortment of maps and blueprints. I found one for the state of Montana, then another for North Dakota, Minnesota and Wisconsin. Each felt like a worn in map should. Peeled around the edges, creased and crinkled where it had been folded over at random points. No X marks the spot, or here be monsters. Nothing suspicious at all.
The blueprints on the other hand were harder to make out. The writing was so small and illegible in the poor light that the details were hard to make out. What I could tell, however, was that I was looking at a series of buildings. The first and most basic was that of some kind of office building. I could make out a series of spaces dedicated to toilets and store rooms and offices. I squinted at the writing, and could make out just one word. Plaza. Plaza didn’t help with anything. There could be a million places across the states with the word Plaza in the name. Whoever had scribed the blueprints had the worst handwriting.
The second sheet was something a little more interesting. Not an office building or a run-of-the-mill house. This was a huge, grandiose property. Maybe a manor. The contours of the building were rarely straight, weaving in and out with the audacity of an Elizabethan castle, and appeared to stretch over four floors. There was space for a garage, which itself looked to be bigger than my house back in England. The details here were easier to read, having been scribed by someone with intelligible handwriting. The address in the upper right corner was in Missoula, Montana. I wondered who lived there.
I put the stack of maps and blueprints back and kept looking. But without proper lighting, there was little left for me to see through night-vision alone.
I squeezed back through the narrow passageway. No changes in the garage. Still two men on the exit. I decided against heading back down the lift shaft. Climbing up had near been the death of me. Climbing down sounded no better.
I crossed to the workbenches I'd seen earlier. An assortment of wrenches and other tools were hung up on tiny hooks. I took one of the larger wrenches off its hook and tucked myself in behind the nearest truck.
The two guards stood several feet apart, making the distance between each around the same as the distance between either side of the cave. From behind, there was little I could learn from either man. No way of telling who was most prone to procrastination, or who had the better hearing. So I took a gamble. If my math was correct, Second Solace would be visible from the cave entrance somewhere down on the rig
ht, so getting back would be best approached from that angle. I crossed over to the right side of the garage, and made my way to the truck closest to the entrance. The guard was fifteen feet away. Maybe a little less. I could cover that distance in a matter of seconds. I knelt down, angled the wrench towards the left-hand side of the cave, and threw it.
The wrench arched through the dingy cave and bounced off the hood of one of the stationary jeeps. The thud was shockingly loud in such a quiet place. Both guards jumped, and spun to attention, weapons raised. Both flicked on flashlights attached to their weapons. Both were well trained. Neither saw me slide underneath the truck for cover.
‘Go check it out,’ said the guard nearest to me, and a second later, I heard the slap of boot rubber on the stone floor as he went to investigate.
‘It's a wrench,’ the second guard said.
‘Yeah no shit, genius. Where’d it come from?’
The guard closest to me scanned the beam of his flashlight around the cave.
‘Hello?’ he called out.
I decided not to call back and alert him to my position. Something in my mind told me that might not be in my best interests. I kept as still as I could and watched the boots of the two guards shuffle around uneasily.
‘Whoever it is down there, quit screwing around,’ shouted the guard who’d gone to investigate the noise. ‘This isn’t funny.’
I could practically feel the two guards share an awkward glance at one another. Then in unison, they edged towards the rear of the cave.
I waited until the guy closest had moved past me, then I slid out and crept out of the cave. My suspicions had been right. Far below in the distance, the faint glow of Second Solace stretched out to beckon me. In a revelation that should have been obvious to begin with, I realised that the path I now stood on was the same ploughed track I’d started on earlier in the day. Had I continued my ascent, I would have stumbled across this very same cave entrance many hours before.
I didn’t stick around to kick myself. The hour was late, and I had much to mull over.
Like an exhausted husk, I made my way back down the mountain, across Schrödinger’s minefield, and back to Gail’s house. My arms and legs felt like a concoction of lead and jelly. A little part of me thought it would be best to climb back into my room via the window, but I neither had it in me, nor felt it would be prudent to appear like the sneak I so evidently was. So I just headed up to the front door and hoped Second Solace didn’t want for door locks.
They didn’t. So I shrugged off my sodden clothes and placed them by the warm embers of the log fire and took myself off to bed. Gail didn’t wake as I climbed the stairs. I slithered under the cover in my remaining clothes and as I shut my eyes, I fell into an instant slumber.
I was in a diner. Rain pelted the window beside me, distorting the view outside. In front of me was a glass of water, and two burgers. One half eaten. The other untouched. There were other people inside, but their faces were unclear, like half-forgotten memories. I wanted to get up and leave, but something compelled me to stay.
‘You waiting for someone?’ a distant voice asked.
It was a voice I knew, but not the one that was supposed to speak. It wasn’t female. It wasn’t soft. I tried to look up, but it was as though I wasn’t ready. Not yet.
‘Excuse me?’ I asked, because that was what I was meant to say.
‘You’ve been here a while, it’ll go cold if they don’t get here soon,’ the voice replied, yet the tone was not amiable. It was hostile. There was something sinister hidden beneath the surface.
No, that wasn’t right. That wasn’t how it happened.
The scene changed. I wasn’t in a diner. I was outside. There was a stillness to the air, like it was frozen in time. I was in a field. The surrounding grass was overgrown and moist with morning dew. There was a tree in the distance. A figure sat beside it. No, they were tied to it. I drifted closer. Or more accurately, the tied figure drew closer to me. I didn’t move. I knew who was supposed to be there.
Sophie.
‘You won’t get a second chance here,’ said the man beside me.
It should have been Redd, but it wasn’t. It was the same voice in the diner. The same intruder. And finally I was turning. I was looking up into the face that haunted my dreams. The burned skin. That elongated smile. Those bright, piercing eyes. I was at his mercy once more. My hands were bound, I was trapped in his lair. The blinking red light. The watching eyes. He was there. In his hands he held a blade. The tip as sharp as a needle. He moved it closer. Closer. Pressed it into my skin.
A terrible storm whipped up, devouring everything but the two of us. No Sophie. No Nicole. No knives or tools. Just me and him. Alone in the eye of the storm.
My eyes snapped open and focused on a dark, calm wooden ceiling. Everything was still, save for the shadows of swaying trees through my window. I climbed out of bed and ran my fingers through my hair. It was knotted and thick from days of neglect. The scar from my bullet wound ached. A permanent reminder. I crossed to the window and looked out into the darkness.
Always watching. Always haunting my dreams. The marks he had left on my skin were nothing compared to those beneath. And there was nothing I could do about it.
Fifteen
The Others
I didn’t go back to sleep, didn’t want to give the man who haunted my dreams another go at my already battered psyche. Instead, I sat at the foot of the bed and watched dawn approach. Gail had been right. My window got one hell of a view of it. Although I bet it paled in comparison to the view from the mountaintop.
When I heard Gail wake up and busy herself in the shower, I decided to head downstairs. By the time the towel-clad, fresh-faced home owner appeared at the foot of the stairs, I had already prepared breakfast.
‘Morning,’ I said as she walked over. ‘I made breakfast.’
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she said.
‘And you didn’t have to take me in,’ I replied. ‘See it as a repayment of gratitude.’
‘Well gratitude smells real good,’ she said with a smile.
She took a seat at the table and I presented her with a plate of eggs on toast with a side of coffee. She wolfed it down without letting the awkwardness of the previous night sink into the new day.
‘What are you on with today?’ I asked as I finished the last of my breakfast.
‘I’ve got a committee meeting about next year’s crop yield.’ She said with a sigh. ‘We had some troubles hitting our required targets this year, so we need to plan out how we will fix the problem going forward.’
‘Sounds fun.’
‘Not everything can be a thrill fest. What about you? Spying on the Dawsons some more?’
‘I need to speak to your father about a couple of things first. Then I’ll see what the day brings me.’
‘What sorts of things?’
‘Oh you know, this and that.’
‘You don’t trust me with it,’ she said.
‘It’s not that,’ I replied. ‘I’m just trying to not step on any toes without proof.’
‘It’s okay, I’m used to being left out of the important stuff,’ she replied, her tone a little dejected. ‘I guess that’s what I get for being the daughter of the man in charge. I didn’t choose this world. I haven’t fought for it like the rest.’
And there it was again. The silence. I cleaned up breakfast. Gail just watched me from her seat.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘I don’t mean to intrude on your life, but can I give you some advice?’
‘Fire away.’
‘Be careful if you go out at night. The guards, they don’t like people out when they’re on patrol. There’s sort of an unspoken curfew. If they catch you out, especially somewhere you shouldn’t be, well… I’d hate to think what they’d do.’
I turned away from the plates and looked at her. There was something in the way she spoke. Something gentle.
‘If I didn’t know any better, I
’d say she likes you,’ said the Wolf.
‘What are we, teenagers? Get a grip,’ I replied.
‘Just some food for thought,’ Gail mused, filling the silence. ‘Anyway, take care today. The weather is supposed to get a whole lot worse in the run up to the new year.’
‘Thanks.’
She smiled again.
‘You should get going. Daddy doesn’t like waiting for people.’
More snow had fallen in the night. The paths once followed now were barely visible. Men and women fought the thick dunes with shovels and spades, carving fresh tracks where they could. Only a few eyes caught mine. The rest were too busy with the new day and all the problems that came with it. Perhaps my presence wasn’t as noteworthy anymore. Fine by me.
The courthouse towered over the neighbouring buildings with a thick sheet of fresh snow settled atop it like a hat. I climbed the stairs and kicked the snow off my boots, then headed inside.
When not used to convict newcomers of various crimes, the courthouse actually felt quite cosy. The grandeur of its interior design brought to mind childhood visions of what the house of Santa Claus might look like. Perhaps it was the proximity to Christmas that made me think that way. Maybe it was old man Fenwick wandering about the place that did it. Hell, maybe he was actual Saint Nick in the flesh.
I headed to Cage’s office and knocked on the door. There was no answer. I waited a minute, then knocked again in case the old man had been in the middle of something. Still nothing. I tried the handle. Unlocked. So, deciding there was only so much trouble I could get in for trespassing on the big chief’s headquarters, I pushed open the door and stepped inside.