“Can you show me the tools?”
“No.”
Morana feigned a pout, and Thane laughed.
“What about ventilation?” she asked.
He pointed to a small round hole high on the wall where a fan’s spinning blades pulled in cool air from the darkness behind it. “The sub-lair’s air is completely exchanged every nine-and-a-half minutes.”
“But I thought there was no sign of the sub-lair above ground.”
“You’ll have to trust me when I tell you that the intake and exhaust vents are virtually impossible to detect on the surface.”
“How do you know the overall structure is safe? Could it collapse?” Morana asked.
“Of course—if I’ve made the slightest miscalculation. Fortunately, that isn’t likely.” Thane strolled around the chamber, smiling up at the ceiling seams. “We are standing in the belly of a solid coral limestone sheath that is over a mile and a half wide, varying from fifty to two hundred meters in depth. From the surface, there is no way to reach us using ‘known’ technology without weeks of drilling and knowledge of where to drill. We’re encased in many millions of tons of solid rock in arguably one of the most private places on earth. I think of it as being protected inside earth’s clenched fist.”
The explanation included more words than Morana had ever heard Thane use at one time. Her amazement was interrupted by his reference to being undiscoverable. Down here, Thane was in a position of absolute physical power over her. If he couldn’t or wouldn’t lift the huge Gateway block high above in the shop and then operate the lift to raise them back to the surface, escape from this place was impossible.
“What if, for some reason, we get stuck down here?” she asked.
“That’s an understandable concern, but I wouldn’t worry. I’ve got you covered—so to speak!”
Morana looked at him. It was the first time she had heard Thane tell a joke. He laughed, and that’s when she noticed that his face completely transformed. His smile had not faded since they had stepped from the platform. It was as though descending into this bizarre catacomb had infused him with a new personality.
“Follow me,” Thane said, shocking her by reaching for her hand. He led her to the opposite side of the chamber, humming and caressing the walls with his free hand as they walked. They entered a corridor about the same length as the garage.
Partway along the corridor, Thane pressed on the faint outline of a square in the wall and a large block that was a few inches taller than he was, ascended, disappearing into a slot in the ceiling, creating an opening to a dark space. Thane leaned inside, feeling with one hand for something.
“What moved that door?” Morana asked.
“The same mechanism you’ve been observing with the other blocks and the lift—nice try.”
The lights blinked on revealing another chamber. Morana followed him inside. A mattress with unmade bedding like the one in the house was on the floor. A box of tissues and a clock sat on a small block positioned as a bedside table. A larger block placed against another wall held some papers and pencils, and a coffee mug on it. The space was lit by more thin lights, strung around the edge of the ceiling.
On the wall opposite the bed, a hollowed-out space contained a mini-fridge underneath several shelves carved from the rock that held crackers, fruit, cereal, and other packaged foods. Its electrical cord was strung to the corner and up the wall, joining the wire that powered the lights.
“This is where I live,” he said.
Morana let go of his hand and moved to the center of the room, looking around with her hands on her hips.
“Can I offer you a drink or a snack?” Thane asked.
Morana laughed. “I don’t want to pillage your stash.”
“I have plenty,” Thane said, handing her a bottle of water from the fridge. “I spend so much of my time here, it made sense to stock food. I have provisions to last well over a year.”
“Are you a doomsdayer?” she asked.
“I’ve heard of them. That doesn’t describe me—at least not by its typical definition. I’m not worried about a nuclear war ending our world. I’m concerned about an invasion of privacy ending mine.”
“I’d say your precautions are… extraordinary,” Morana said.
“I want to show you something else,” Thane said. He led her through an arched opening into an adjacent chamber, slightly smaller than the bedroom. Inside the room, three steps descended to a square pool, the size of a hot tub. Its far edge flush to the wall, the water level was only a couple of inches lower than the floor.
“Don’t tell me you built a pool!” Morana said.
“Not exactly,” Thane replied. “I can only take credit for discovering it. You are looking at a Floridian Aquifer.” He knelt beside the water. “I knew it was possible but was still surprised when I hit water while quarrying this space.”
Morana knelt beside him and wiggled her fingers into the water. “Do I feel motion?” she asked.
Thane removed a piece of paper from his pocket and tore off a corner of it. He dropped it on the edge of the pool closest to the center of the room. The paper drifted at walking speed until it bumped against the wall and bobbed a few times before the current pulled it under and out of sight.
“Where does the water go?”
Thane shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Is it drinkable?” Morana asked. She stood and walked around the edge of the pool.
“With proper filtration it’s delicious. Feel free to taste it.”
She laughed. “No, I’ll stick to the commercial water,” she said, holding up her bottle. “Thane, this place is unlike anything I’ve ever imagined. It’s truly surreal.”
Thane beamed. “I can tell you that it’s equally as extraordinary to me every time I see it.”
“I’m sure.” She watched him for a few moments before adding, “There’s no place you’d rather be, is there?”
“Is it that obvious?” He ran his thumbnail along a groove in the wall. “I never feel freer than when I’m locked down here. Returning to the surface has become a chore.”
“Interesting,” Morana said. “So, Thane…” She paused.
“Yes?”
“We are free to say anything we want to down here without any worry of eavesdropping, right?”
“I can guarantee that.”
“Then can you please tell me anything else about the voicemail message? I want to understand why this person is after you and I sense that I’m missing something.”
Thane’s cheery expression dissolved, and he folded his arms. “The person who left the voicemail message is a guy who has been after me for a long time.”
“As in—a stalker?”
“Not exactly.”
“Do you know this person?”
“His name is Waylon Snells. We met when we were both eight years old.”
“Wow.”
Thane said, “Let’s go back in here.” He led her back into the bedroom where he sat on the mattress.
Morana sat beside him. “I want to know more. How do you know him?”
Thane opened his mouth and hesitated, struggling for words.
Morana put her hand on his back. “If it’s too difficult to share, you don’t have—”
“No… I want to.” He took a deep breath and said, “Waylon began teasing me in third grade, but in middle school, it got much worse. He was always the strongest boy in class and flaunted it. He called me ‘Thane the Pain.’ He stole from me—money, school supplies, whatever I had that he wanted. He beat me up at least once a week.”
“That’s awful.”
“He must have heard the term ‘super predator’ and liked it, so he began to refer to himself as a super predator. Between classes, if he saw me in the hallway, he pointed his finger, and repeated, ‘Behold my prey,’ until I looked his way. He stole my lunch at least once a week. He’d eat whatever dessert my mom put in a
nd ruin the rest by throwing it into the waste bin behind the school. If he didn’t like what my mom had packed, he’d beat me up.”
“And the teachers allowed this?” Morana asked.
“I learned to keep my mouth shut. If I reported him, he punished me. Everywhere I went, he was there. In the hallway, in the lunchroom, outside in the schoolyard, he would shout, ‘Behold my prey!’ I’d hear it in the distance, and he kept saying it over and over until he caught up with me. Other kids were afraid of him, too.” Thane paused to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. “One time he found a tuna can on the ground beside the trash area. The open lid was still attached. He threw the can at me. The lid hit me here, and I needed stitches.” Thane pointed to a scar above his eyebrow. “For the next few days while I was bandaged, he’d sit behind me in class and whisper, ‘Something’s fishy.’ He always taunted me like that until he got the reaction he wanted from me.”
“What about your parents?”
“I grew up without a father. I didn’t want to tell my mom because she’d tell the teachers and Waylon would punish me. When she saw bruises and the cut from the tuna can, she reported it to the principal. I made something up, but the principal picked my story apart until I confessed the truth. Waylon got reprimanded and, as usual, took it out on me.” Thane wiped his eyes again. “Waylon once drew and cut out pretend tickets and tried to sell them for a quarter each to a show he called ‘Thane Pain.’ When the other kids wouldn’t buy them, Waylon went into the classroom when everyone was gone for lunch and put a ticket inside every desk—except mine. I didn’t know it, but the back of the ticket had the time and place: after school, behind the gymnasium at the head of a trail that Waylon knew I walked to get home from school. On that day, rain left the trail muddy and thick with puddles. I first noticed more kids than usual gathered at the edge of the trail. I didn’t know why they were there. When I approached, Waylon stepped out from among them, threw me face-first into the mud and sat on me. I tried to get him off me while he acted like he was riding me like a rodeo horse. A few of the kids laughed. Most were stunned and started to back away. He shoved my face into the mud and said, ‘Look, you can’t even tell the little nigger’s dirty.’ He wouldn’t let me up until I ate some of it.”
Morana put her arm around him and said, “Thane, I’m so sorry that happened to you. I can’t believe no one defended you.”
“Most of the kids that ran away continued watching from behind the science building. There was one girl, Sarah Parsman, who stayed behind and tried to defend me. She pushed Waylon off me. He threatened to make her eat mud, too. She ran to get help, but I knew Waylon would be finished with me before any adults could arrive to stop him.”
“And no one in authority at your school did anything to help you?”
“The first time he threatened me for reporting him, he kept his word and punished me with a beating. The second time I reported him, he set fire to a custodial closet and put matches and lighter fluid in my backpack. He told the principal that he saw me running from the closet and to check my bag. They found the items. Not only did I get in trouble, but it was also the first and only time I remember my mom being afraid of me even though I denied it.”
Morana stared at the wall, her jaw tight.
“Most of what Waylon did was more embarrassing than physically painful—except…”
“Except, what?”
“Probably the worst thing.”
Morana squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to tell me any more if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“No, I’ll share it. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable to tell you—for some reason. I once got permission to leave class to use the restroom. Waylon must have gotten permission to leave class right after I did. He entered and startled me. I was at the urinal. My pants were at my knees. He rushed me. Before I could pull up my pants, he threw me to the floor.”
Morana squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for it.
“He had something on his fingers. He wrestled me and wiped something on my—all over me down there. I couldn’t fight him off. I was terrified. He laughed while washing his hands and went back to class. The cream he smeared was menthol and began to tingle, then it burned. I tried to wash it off, but the water and soap made it worse. I couldn’t go back to class like that. I stayed in the restroom for over an hour trying to clean myself, and I got in trouble for skipping class.” Thane took off his glasses and cried.
Morana rubbed his back. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that. I wish we could reverse what he did to you. Nothing angers me more than seeing the suffering of someone who is innocent.”
When Thane gathered himself and said, “Obviously, I survived, but I know the experiences scarred me deeply.” He rested his chin on his knees. “My mother promised me that he’d be gone someday, but he never goes away—never.”
Morana took a tissue from the bedside stand and wiped his eyes. “I’m betting that your mother was right.”
“In my dreams,” Thane said. He cleared his throat. “I couldn’t wait for the day I’d graduate from high school because I knew we would go our separate ways and I’d be free. He used to tease me, saying he could always find me no matter where I tried to hide. I never dreamt his abuse would continue after we were grown up. Now it has happened.”
“What sort of schoolyard bully continues until they are an adult?”
“Part of this situation might be my fault.”
“How can you say that?”
Thane leaned back onto the bed. “I looked him up and discovered that he still lives in the area. He’s a big-time injury attorney. He has a billboard on Kingman Road. On it, he’s grinning with the same sneer he used to give me. He’s holding his fist up. The caption reads, Get What You Deserve!”
“He’s that guy? I’ve seen the ad,” Morana said.
“It’s the perfect job for him, and it’s made him rich. He has radio ads, too. Every time I hear one, it reminds me that I can’t get away from him. One of his radio ads invited people to stop by his firm’s booth at a career fair.” Thane stopped talking.
“And?” Morana said.
“Now I know it was a mistake, but I went. I wanted him to see that he hadn’t ruined me. Something inside of me wanted to confront him—to show that he hadn’t won. I thought that would help me, but it didn’t.”
“What happened?”
“He was there. I remember approaching his table. He was sitting. I felt anger welling up in me. I can’t remember everything I said, but things didn’t go as I planned. He stood to look down at me like he used to. He folded his arms like he used to. He leered at me with the same smirk I remember. I yelled at him, and then he threatened me.”
“How?”
“Something about finding out where I lived. A few days later, the supposed accident happened, and he was back in my life.”
“But how is Everett involved?”
“Waylon and Everett must be friends. I think Waylon used Everett for payout in a lot of fake accidents like the one they staged with me.”
Morana rested her hand on Thane’s shoulder. “Waylon is cruel. You are so smart and handsome I can’t imagine anyone having an urge to hurt you.”
“Then you’re unusual.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I know I’m not exactly good with people. My mom used to call it a social deficit. As a boy, the awkwardness of interacting with classmates made me a frequent target.” Thane’s eyes welled up again. “As an adult, my self-doubt makes almost every interaction awkward. That’s why I love the quiet solitude of the sub-lair.” He removed his glasses.
They sat in silence for almost a minute, then Morana got on her knees to face him. “Please look at me,” she said. “You may not believe this, Thane, but I was bullied, too.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe you.”
“Swear to God.” Morana raised her hand. “Mine happened in my teen years. I was tall, my body developed earl
y, and that got attention from the boys the other girls wish they could attract.”
“Then you should have been popular.”
“You would think so, but the girls were jealous and felt threatened. I rarely initiated conversation with the popular girls. That only isolated me more from them. When their boyfriends flirted with me, things got worse. The girls ganged up and shouted things at me in the hallway and the cafeteria. They reported lies to teachers to get me in trouble.” Morana paused.
Thane put his glasses back on and pushed them higher on his nose, his eyes locked on her as he soaked up her words.
“One day while walking home from school, these mean girls drove by. One threw a soda out the car window, and it hit me. I have a scar to this day.” Morana hiked the back of her shirt up and twisted, exposing the skin on the side of her back. She looked over her shoulder. “Here, look, there’s a faint discoloration.” She moved closer to him.
“I believe you,” Thane said, briefly looking before averting his eyes.
“It’s okay,” Morana said. She took his hand and gently spread his fingers on her back, moving his fingertip in a circle on her skin. “Can you feel that?”
“It’s just… warm skin. I don’t feel a scar.”
“Well, it’s there,” she said. She let go and let her shirt drop. “I sometimes notice it in the mirror when I get dressed. Anyway, I decided that I wasn’t going to be a victim anymore, so I got even with them.” Morana scooted back to lean against the wall. She crossed her legs and studied her nails.
“You can’t stop there, what happened?” Thane asked.
Morana laughed and said, “Sorry, I was reliving it… I seduced several of their boyfriends and secretly took some… useful photos.”
Thane’s mouth opened, then he smiled.
“I gifted a photo to each of the girls all on the same day. I knew they’d be furious. As expected, three of them confronted me in the gym locker room, but I was ready. I went for the tallest, mouthiest one first and took her to the ground. The other two ran away, but I had the one I wanted.”
“What did you do to her?”
Prey for Us Page 12
