by P A Vasey
It read: DANGER, HIGH RADIATION AREA.
Connor grinned. “I know. The sign’s just overkill. They want you to turn back. There’s no significant radiation where we were heading. I told Adam there was nothing to worry about. The Government’s had that place bubble-wrapped for twenty-five years.”
I handed the phone back and he reached down and unzipped a small rucksack by his feet, bringing out a portable two-piece Geiger counter. He flicked it on and it began to register ambient ionisation events. Sporadic and irregular clicks of normal background radioactivity could be heard.
“We had this with us at all times. What you’re hearing now is the same as we heard in that desert. Nada.” He shook his head and put the counter back in his bag. “Government continues to put those signs up, scaring folks away.”
I looked at him across the top of my coffee, and said what had been bothering me. “You know, I still find it hard to believe you thought there’d be water down there.”
He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “I was pretty sure that there’d be streams and pools and so on, given the depth of the explosions and the water table in that area. Any sufficiently deep hole should have filled with water by now.” He paused, and then smiled across at me. “Did you know that the Mayans thought underwater cave systems represented ‘portals to the underworld’?”
I frowned. “My recollection of South American history is hazy at best, but I do remember reading that that they also thought sacrificing children to their gods would bring them luck.”
Connor seemed to shrink into himself a little, hiding behind his cup. He glanced sideways at me.
“I thought that crater was safe.”
“Caverns formed by nuclear explosions,” I said.
“I know,” he said, quietly.
“Are you going to tell me what happened down there?”
He put his cup down and looked straight ahead. If I’d ever seen a thousand yard stare, there it was.
“It took us two hours to climb down to the floor of the cavern. The walls were good for handholds and pegs. It wasn’t the hollowed-out circular cavity we were expecting at all. The rock falls and roof collapses had produced random stairways of boulders that spiked upwards into the main chamber. We found a few sizeable cracks in the floor that opened out into other passageways, so I decided to descend one of them. It was hard getting down there but Adam was up top feeding me lengths of rope and keeping me from going too fast. We’d thrown glow-sticks down first and these’d come to rest in another space below the passageway. As I descended, the intensity of the glow seemed to be decreasing rather than increasing, and the crevice was narrowing just below the point where I was hanging. Adam thought it was going to be too tight, but I was convinced I could get through.”
He paused to take another sip of what must have been cold coffee because he grimaced and lowered the cup to the floor. I looked at my watch and saw that it was nearly eleven. I got out of my chair and walked across the room to look out of the window. There was a diffuse orangey light in the distance from across the highway where the town outskirts began, but all was quiet.
“Did you get through the gap?” I asked without turning.
His chair squeaked as he got up and joined me at the window. I could smell his sweat, oozing through the pores of the wetsuit. He stood close to me and I moved back slightly so that he got the hint.
“No,” he said. “I had to turn back. I started to climb up but the light from Adam’s helmet torch was blinding me so I asked him to turn it off. But when he did, instead of the darkness I was expecting, Adam was kinda framed by a halo of light. The air was charged with some sort of static electricity, like what you get before a thunderstorm hits, and the temperature in the cavern just plummeted. I can remember the hairs rising on the back of my neck, despite the sweat leaking down from under my helmet. I asked Adam to look behind him as I thought that maybe someone had followed us down.” His voice had dropped to a whisper, and I was struggling to hear him. He looked even more uncertain, as if he didn’t know how exactly to proceed with his story.
“Was there?” I whispered. “Was there someone there?”
Connor sighed deeply and gave an involuntary shudder. “Adam looked down at me - and here’s the thing - he had this strange expression on his face. He looked puzzled but his eyes were wide and staring. I remember him calling, something like ‘Fuck, this is seriously weird you need to come up and take a look at this’ and then he walked away from the edge and out of sight.”
“That’s it?” I said.
Connor looked away and I knew he was lying.
“By the time I’d gotten up out of crevice he was gone.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Joey Malone’s Sports Bar and Grill, Indian Springs
An hour later, close to midnight, I sat hunched on a leather-backed stool at Joey Malone’s Bar and Diner, a Kraken rum and coke in front of me. Joey’s had a low convex ceiling with mood lighting and dark wooden beams. Pennants and signed football jerseys bedecked the walls between booths that were occupied by some GIs tucking into burgers and fries. The bar was a long straight counter with a dozen or more rickety stools facing ten wall-mounted TVs, all silently showing sports or news programs with subtitles ticker-taping along the bottom. Behind it was an Aladdin’s cave of drinks, the backlighting illuminating the alcohol in inviting golden colours. Joey Malone’s was a regular haunt of mine - although usually only at weekends, I liked to think. At this time on a Friday night the bar was about half empty and the non-smoking rules were relaxed. A couple of guys along the bar had lit up, smoke twisting in an artistic way forming curls in the gloom, illuminated by the bar lights and flashes from the TV jukebox. Bowie’s ‘Starman’ was playing. Bowie was crooning on Mick Ronson’s shoulder something about how the Starman would like to meet us but thinks he’d blow our mind.
I’d changed out of my scrubs and was wearing jeans and a t-shirt topped off with a net cardigan. My hair was pinned back and up into one of those bunches that other women seem to do so effortlessly and yet still look as if they could be going to the opera. I’d not yet mastered that particular skill. I popped out a compact and flipped the mirrored cap open. My eyes looked bloodshot, with bags the size of coal sacks dragging them down. I pursed my lips, and wondered if I should pop on some lipstick, but then I thought better of it.
The sole bartender tonight, Harry Gibson, ambled towards me absentmindedly cleaning a beer glass. He wiggled his eyebrows and put a clean tumbler in front of me.
“Bad day, Kate? This is a late one even for you.”
I took an appreciative sniff of the Kraken in my current glass and downed it in one, letting the spicy liquid coat the inside of my mouth before swallowing. I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath.
“Harry, you’ve no idea,” I said, putting the glass down heavily on the counter. “I’m just glad you never close.”
“You still look gorgeous, Kate,” said Harry. He’d seen my weary look as I put the mirror back in my purse. “If you need to unload, you know that’s what we barmen do best.”
I gave him a tired smile. I needed my bed, but I wanted one last drink as I tried to wrap my head around all the stuff that had happened. There was so much that made no sense. I prided myself in my medical skills, but the experience with Adam in the hospital had left me with more questions than answers. Did I really hear his voice in my head? Wouldn’t that make me crazier than him? And then there was the vision, if that’s what it was, of Adam in the cavern, and then Connor’s story, which only made things more confusing. And why was Connor in trouble? It sounded like the police just had him for trespassing, so I couldn’t imagine he’d be up for more than a token fine. He was scared, and not of the police.
I shook my glass, and Harry got the hint and added a couple of fingers of rum and some cubes of ice. I swirled it around and gave him a silent toast before taking a large slug. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement and as the door opened three uniformed soldiers
entered and rolled over to the bar. I could hear them laughing and talking loudly, and there was a high five in there somewhere. They looked over to Harry and leaned on the bar, waving.
“It’ll need to wait,” I said to Harry. You’ve got more customers.”
“Don’t go away,” he said with a wagging finger, and took off in their direction.
I knocked back another mouthful of the rum, and shook my head to clear it. I couldn’t accept that I’d heard his voice in my head, because that would make me - well – insane. I now regretted that I’d mentioned this little fact to Clem because he’d either ignored it or dismissed it out of hand. Either one was bad for me. But something wasn’t right. Something was off-kilter about the whole thing.
I finished the rest of the rum and looked down the bar at Harry who was serving the soldier boys a round of beer. They were talking very loudly and by their body language were clearly very drunk. I began to look away but the one nearest caught my eye and raised his hand, waving me over.
“Hey there Blondie, come and join us!”
Fuck, just what I needed.
His friends were now looking over as well and also started to make noises and gestures designed to encourage me over. I could see Harry attempting to pacify them and trying not to disturb any of his other patrons, who really couldn’t have given a shit anyway. I shook my head and raised the glass to them as a kind of toast. “Thanks guys but I’m heading home after this one.”
Unfortunately they didn’t get the hint. Egged on by his friends, the soldier who’d caught my eye shuffled out of his barstool and staggered over. He slouched against the bar and looked me up and down with lidded eyes. The smell of stale beer and cigarettes caused me to wince. His badge said Private Delacruz, and I put out a hand in the universal gesture of ‘back the fuck off’.
“Look, private, I’m just having a quick drink and then I’m going home. It was a long day at the hospital.”
His eyes widened and he leaned in, his beery breath causing me to turn my head away. “So, you’re the doctor?” He shouted over to his buddies, “I’ve scored with the doc-tor!”
There was some further cheering and a high five. I sighed inwardly and closed my eyes. I figured I knew how this would go down. Within a few weeks of arriving at Indian Springs, word had gotten around the Base about the new young female doctor at the hospital. Given what I’d just gone through in Chicago, I tried to keep myself to myself, maintain a standoffish kind of posture, which wasn’t a stretch to be honest. I’d erected walls around myself so high, and I was so emotionally drained, that all I wanted to do after work was sleep or drink. Then after a couple of months and a particularly late night at Joey’s I got involved with one of the soldiers from Creech - a Military Policeman no less. Big, handsome, confident… you name it, he was it. I fell for him, but the relationship didn’t last more than a few weeks. He was posted out of country at 24 hours notice but not without leaving his buddies a full account of our time together.
I was quite famous for all the wrong reasons in the military part of town.
I took another drink as Delacruz’ two compadres, both in their early twenties, shambled over. Buffed up young marines full of beer and testosterone, starting the weekend as they meant to continue. Delacruz leaned in again and put his hand on my arm.
“Come on, lemme buy you a drink. It’s just polite.”
Before I could reply, my saviour Harry appeared.
“Guys, the night is young. Go and finish your drinks back over there, and leave the lady alone.”
One of the soldiers, an enormous mountain of a man with bad acne and a broken nose, squeezed in between Delacruz and me. He stuck out his tongue and propping both elbows on the bar and invading my personal space even more. His breath was stale and garlic-infused. I wondered if I would pass out.
“Jeez, Harry we just want to say hello. She looks lonely.”
On the other side, Delacruz leered at me. “We can be very entertaining, you’d better believe it, hey?”
His buddies roared approvingly and ‘hi-five’d’ each other again. There was some fist-bumping as well.
I glanced at Harry, and raised my eyebrows warningly. He got the hint.
“Guys,” said Harry sternly. “I’m going to have to ask you to move down the bar and leave the lady alone. Don’t make me call the MPs now. That would mess with everyone’s night, wouldn’t it?”
Reluctantly and with somewhat petulant looks at Harry the three soldiers wandered back to their barstools where their drinks were waiting. They cast unapologetic looks back at me but then lost interest, as there was a touchdown in one of the games on the screen.
“Thanks,” I said as Harry ambled back over. “Normally I couldn’t give a shit but I just don’t need this tonight.”
He smiled. “Hey, all good. They’re just kids. You need a bit of space, right? Long day and all.” He poured yet another Kraken into my glass, and I swilled the brown liquid around the glass, chinking the ice cubes. “You waiting for anyone?” he asked, with a sympathetic smile.
I shook my head. “Nah. Gimme a few minutes and I’ll be out of here.”
He nodded, and moved off to serve another customer. I took out my cell phone and flicked through the photos until I came across the picture I’d taken of Adam Benedict in the ER. The quality was poor but he was clearly identifiable and I wondered why I hadn’t given it to the police. That would’ve been the sensible thing to do.
I was about to dial the number Sherriff Woods had given me, just as Harry appeared again. He leaned forward, conspiratorially.
“Kate, this guy says he knows you?” He indicated with his chin down the bar in the opposite direction to the soldiers. “Seems more like your type?”
I turned and peered down the bar. Sitting a couple of barstools along and looking up at the TV screens was a dark-haired man dressed in ill-fitting hospital scrubs, croc overshoes and a white coat buttoned uncomfortably all the way up. There was a stethoscope draped around his neck.
He turned to face me and his voice exploded in my head.
Hello Kate.
I jerked upright and stared into the face of the man from the hospital.
Adam.
His unblinking eyes bored into mine and I got a rush of vertigo as if I was suddenly standing on a cliff-edge. A cold flush made its way up my scalp and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I pushed back the barstool and leaned on the bar for support, my legs shaking.
“How the fuck can I hear you in my head?” I asked, a tremor in my voice.
“I can explain,” he replied, softly. His voice was deep, and accent-less. “I mean you no harm.”
“Really?” I said. “What about that ‘you’re all in danger’ stuff? Oh, and the policeman you put in hospital?”
He looked back up at the TV screen. There was a basketball game going on. It was the final seconds of the final quarter and the scores were tied. Muted cheers could be heard from the soldiers at the other end of the bar. Led Zeppelin’s ‘Immigrant Song’ had replaced Bowie. Harry had always been a 70’s fan.
“I will explain, but first I need somewhere to stay.”
I couldn’t believe he was asking me this. I laughed. “Well there’s a hotel two blocks down the street.”
“I have no money. No cards. No … ID.”
“Not my problem,” I said.
He nodded slowly, and continued to watch the game. I slid along the bar and squeezed into the barstool next to him. He didn’t look away from the TV. His hands were on the bar, long fingers interlocked. He looked awkward in the barstool, as if sitting was unnatural. An image of Praying Mantis, popped up into my head, somewhat unnervingly.
“You know, I’m sure the police would be happy to put you up,” I suggested, somewhat snarkily.
He looked away from the screen and smiled at me, although the movement appeared awkward and forced. His eyes were big and dark in the half-light, his face angular with deep shadows reflecting the light from the glass
ware and whisky bottles.
“I cannot be in custody. I have … there are things I must do. Things that I - I need you to help me with.”
“Me? How can I be of help? I don’t know you.”
You already know so much
His words bounced around my brain, his lips not moving. My head was starting to hurt and I wished the Kraken was still in front of me. I squeezed my eyes closed and realised I was bunching my hands into fists, my nails digging in painfully. I opened them slowly and tried to calm down, tried to suppress the tremors.
“Stop doing that telepathy thing,” I ground out between gritted teeth.
What was I saying? Telepathy… for fuck’s sake, I’m a doctor, trained in evidence-based medicine and science. Telepathy was in the realm of bullshit-pseudo-science.
He reached out and gently took hold of my hand.
“Kate, I have looked into your mind. I know you. Your past, and your present.”
My past? I was starting to get angry.
“Really, such as?”
He looked over me, head at an angle as if deciding what to say.
“Your father was stationed at Creech Air Force Base from the late 1960s, flying training missions in B25 bombers. When you were five years old there was an acrimonious divorce and your mother secured full custody and moved you to Chicago. Your father paid generous support but your mother was strict and rarely granted him access. The last time that you saw him was at your graduation ceremony at Chicago City Hall.”
I shook my head. “Much of that’s common knowledge. You could’ve spoken with Clem Reynolds or fucking Googled me.”
