Scavenger

by David Morrell

  The man seemed to think this was the most reasonable question in the world. He nodded.

  Balenger swatted dirt from his jeans and sport coat. They smelled of smoke. “We’ve got a piece of paper we need to photocopy so we can read what’s on it without leaving fingerprints.”

  Ortega studied him. “You look exhausted. Talking to the fire investigators will at least give you a chance to rest.”

  “When I find Amanda, that’s when I’ll rest.”

  It took barely a minute to make photocopies and return to the street, but in that brief time, the crowd increased dramatically. Balenger folded one of the photocopies and stuck it into his jacket pocket. He and Ortega struggled through noisy spectators. Ahead, more sirens wailed.

  “Police,” Ortega said. “Let us through.”

  A few onlookers made space, but three steps later, others blocked the way. Balenger felt squeezed. There’s no time for this, he thought.

  “Police!” Ortega yelled as more people jostled him.

  No time, Balenger decided. A determined man shoved in front of him, allowing him to hang back. When three others elbowed past, Balenger used them for cover and ducked away through the crowd.

  “Frank, where are you?” he heard Ortega shouting.

  LEVEL THREE

  HIDE AND HUNT

  1

  Legs unsteady, Amanda obeyed the voice’s instructions and climbed the staircase. As Ray, Bethany, Derrick, and Viv entered their bedrooms, she went into hers. She’d been told to go to the closet and put on the clothes she found there, but first she went into the bathroom and relieved herself. She didn’t care if there were cameras. Urgency cancelled modesty. Suspecting that it would be a long time before she saw another bathroom, she pulled toilet paper off the roll and crammed it into her pocket.

  Now that the fog of whatever drug she’d been given was dissipating along with her nausea, Amanda realized how empty her stomach felt. Her mouth was dry. After flushing the toilet, she went to the sink, then paused, frowning toward the toilet. The water swirled down. But the tank didn’t make the sound of water refilling it. She had a fearful suspicion of what would happen when she turned the knobs on the sink—or rather what wouldn’t happen—but she tried it anyhow. No water flowed from the taps.

  Amanda’s mouth felt even more parched as she went to the closet and opened it. Blue coveralls hung on a hanger, a many-pocketed garment that reminded her of flight suits she’d seen in movies about military pilots. Waffle-soled hiking boots were on the floor. They, too, were blue, as were the wool socks and baseball cap next to them. Now she did feel modest. Trying to avoid the cameras, she stepped into the closet and hurriedly took off her jeans. In a rush, she stepped into the coveralls and zipped them over her white blouse. The coveralls were sturdy nylon on the outside with an insulating fabric. Briefly, the material chilled her legs. After transferring the toilet paper to the coveralls, she carried the socks and hiking boots to the bed and put them on. Everything fit her.

  She glanced around the room, looking for anything she might be able to use to escape.

  “Nothing here will help you,” the voice said from the ceiling.

  It made her flinch. She heard footsteps in the corridor and left the bedroom, seeing Ray, Bethany, Derrick, and Viv come out of their rooms. All wore caps, coveralls, wool socks, and hiking shoes. Ray’s were green, Bethany’s gray, Derrick’s red, and Viv’s brown. Because of Ray’s pilot background, he was the only one who looked at ease in the jumpsuit.

  “Well, at least I can tell the rest of you apart,” Derrick, the only black person in the group, tried to joke.

  “I think that’s the idea,” Ray said, pointing toward the ceiling. “For him to tell us apart, especially at a distance.”

  Glancing nervously around, they descended the staircase to the large open area in front of the door. Ray pulled out his lighter, opening and snapping it shut. Amanda tried not to let the sound get on her nerves.

  “Now what?” Viv asked the voice.

  “Go into the dining room,” the voice commanded. “Put on your radio headsets. Turn them on.”

  “Wait a minute.” Bethany’s eyes looked fierce. “The sink in my bathroom didn’t work! I’m thirsty!”

  “I’m hungry,” Ray said. “God knows how long it’s been since—”

  “This is Monday,” the voice said.

  “Monday?” Bethany’s voice dropped.

  “But the last thing I remember…” Derrick shook his head. “My God, I lost…”

  “Two days.” Viv looked stunned.

  “So, of course, you’re hungry and thirsty. The fact that you weren’t active during the interval prevented you from expending energy. You still have strength. As I noted when telling you about Bethany’s experience on the ocean, you can survive for as long as three weeks without food.”

  Amanda felt her lightheadedness return.

  “Contrary to popular opinion, going two or three days without food is hardly life-threatening,” the voice assured them. “People have been known to hike great distances during that time.”

  Obeying instructions, Viv went into the dining room. But she kept going into the kitchen.

  Understanding, Amanda and the others followed, watching Viv put on the rubber gloves she used earlier. She opened the refrigerator. It was empty. She opened all the cupboards, but they too were empty. She tried the tap on the sink. It no longer worked.

  She moaned.

  “Fasting purifies,” the voice said. “Now go into the dining room and put on the headsets. Otherwise, I won’t let you outside.”

  With no other choice, they did what they were told.

  Amanda adjusted the headset, then put her cap back on. As she pulled her blond hair through the back of the hat, the sonorous voice through the ear buds was disturbingly intimate. “Put your GPS receiver into a pocket. Be careful to protect it. You’re going to need it.”

  Again, the group obeyed.

  “Now I’ll tell you about Scavenger,” the voice said. “In 2000, President Clinton signed legislation that allowed global positioning satellite receivers available to the public to receive signals that were accurate within ten feet, almost as accurate as military GPS receivers. Prior to that time, the public could receive GPS signals that were accurate only within twenty-five feet, reserving greater accuracy exclusively for the military. Almost immediately, someone in Oregon posted map coordinates on an Internet site, explaining that anyone who used a GPS receiver to search that area had a chance to find a hidden treasure. The treasure was only a metal box of dime-store novelties. That wasn’t the point. The objective wasn’t what was in the box but rather the pleasure of the hunt. Even with coordinates as accurate as ten feet, the box was difficult to locate.”

  Amanda was so accustomed to hearing the voice come from the ceiling that she felt disoriented now that it sounded inside her head.

  “From Oregon, this version of a scavenger hunt spread rapidly around the world. It bore similarities to a similar scavenger hunt called letterboxing, but the GPS version is called ‘geocaching.’ Players use an Internet site to learn the coordinates of something hidden—a cache—in an area they want to explore. They program these coordinates into their GPS receiver, then let the receiver guide them to the spot they need to search. Often, within a ten-foot-square area of trees or rocks, the object is so small or so disguised that it’s almost impossible to find. A cache might look like an insect, such as a grasshopper, for example. It takes a careful eye to notice that the grasshopper is made of rubber. Or the object might look like a rock, but when examined, it turns out to be plastic, containing a cheap ring or some other type of nominal treasure. The player who finds the object leaves something comparable in return, or sometimes just a note, and then reports the victory to a website like geocaching-dot-com. Players gain stature for the number of caches they discover. Only a few years after President Clinton signed that GPS legislation, there were a quarter of a million caches in two hundred and nineteen
countries.”

  Ray interrupted angrily. “Grasshoppers? Cheap rings? What the hell do you want with us?”

  “No need to shout, Ray. The microphone next to your cheek will supply the proper sound level. What do I want? Step to the front door.”

  Amanda tensed as she heard an electronic beep from the door. The lock made a clunking sound, the bolt sliding free.

  “You can open it now,” the voice instructed.

  “Not until I know I won’t get electrocuted.” Viv tapped a rubber glove against the door’s handle. Getting no reaction, she pushed down and pulled.

  Sunlight streamed in, accompanied by a pleasant breeze.

  “Damn, that feels good,” Derrick said. He went outside, as did Viv and Ray.

  Hesitant, Amanda and Bethany followed.

  2

  The sun was warm. The grassy, sagebrush-dotted field was more open space than Amanda had ever seen. All her life she’d lived in cities, where the buildings permitted a view of only a portion of the sky. The trees in parks created a similar limitation. But here, the view was immense. Snowcapped mountains rose in the distance, but they made no impression on the sky. The canopy of blue was vast.

  “As you see, you’re in a valley surrounded by mountains,” the voice explained in Amanda’s ears. She noticed everyone else concentrating to listen. “On your right, far off, there’s a break in the mountains. That’s the only exit. I don’t advise you to go in that direction.”

  Amanda stared at it longingly.

  The group walked farther from the building, which reminded Amanda of a log-walled hunting lodge she’d once seen in a magazine. She noticed Viv put the rubber gloves in a pocket of her coveralls. Good, Amanda thought. Save whatever resources we can get our hands on. But the farther she went from the building, the more insignificant she felt in the vastness around her.

  “Please, take out your GPS receivers and turn them on,” the voice said.

  Everyone complied.

  Except Amanda, who was baffled by the unfamiliar object she removed from her pocket. “Where…”

  “On the right side,” Derrick said. “Two buttons. The bottom one. It’s got a symbol of a light bulb.”

  Amanda pressed the button and heard a beeping sound. The unit’s screen glowed, revealing a cartoon of a globe with satellite icons over it.

  “Mostly because of the United States and its military requirements, there are a large number of global positioning satellites, twenty-six that the government admits to having,” the voice continued. “But your receiver needs only to establish a link with three. More is better for accuracy, but three is sufficient. In this valley, the usual number of links is five. The satellites are thirty miles above us, beaming signals at a mere fifty watts, and yet they’re amazingly precise.”

  Amanda watched vertical bars appear on the bottom of her unit’s screen. Five of them darkened.

  “These receivers work best in open spaces,” the voice said. “Buildings and dense forest restrict the signals. But now that you’re outdoors, your units have registered your current position. Pay attention to the following coordinates. They indicate your destination. North…” The voice dictated a series of numbers. “West…” The voice dictated other numbers.

  Amanda was bewildered as Ray, Bethany, Derrick, and Viv pressed buttons on their receivers.

  “Not so fast,” Bethany objected, adjusting her microphone. “Tell me the second set of numbers again.”

  The voice repeated them.

  “Okay,” Bethany said.

  Amanda continued to be baffled.

  “It’s easy.” Sounding annoyed, Viv took the receiver from her. “The buttons on each side cycle through the main pages and access the menus on them: a compass, an altimeter, a map.”

  “No map on mine,” Ray said.

  “Mine neither,” Bethany said.

  “Great. So we still don’t know where we are.” Viv showed Amanda how each button worked. “With a little practice, you won’t have trouble remembering what they do. Here, I’ll enter the coordinates for you.”

  Viv showed Amanda how it was done, then handed the receiver back to her.

  “Excellent,” the voice said. “Team spirit.”

  “Anything to get out of here,” Viv said.

  “That depends on how everyone performs. The forty hours begin…” The voice paused, as if double-checking something “…now.”

  Everyone frowned.

  “I advise you not to waste time,” the voice warned.

  They continued to remain in place.

  “You’ll find something you need at the coordinates I gave you.”

  “Water?” Bethany asked. “Food?”

  The voice didn’t answer.

  “Hell, if there’s water and food, let’s go.” Derrick glanced at his GPS receiver.

  Amanda did the same. On the screen, a red needle pointed away from her. Above it, a box was marked DIST TO DEST and indicated one mile.

  “In this mode, the compass doesn’t aim north but instead toward the coordinates we entered,” Viv explained. “Looks like we’re supposed to head toward that clump of trees in the distance.”

  The trees were opposite the valley’s exit, Amanda noticed. She assumed that her thoughts were the same as the others’. The moment she was far enough from the building that she couldn’t see it any longer, she’d watch for a chance to escape.

  The guarded expression in everyone’s eyes told her that the rest of the group had the same plan.

  They started walking. Dry grass crunched under Amanda’s boots. The sun’s glare pained her eyes. Despite its heat, she shivered. Staying behind the others, she couldn’t help noticing how unnatural the combination of their blue, green, gray, red, and brown jumpsuits looked. When she looked around, the expanse of the sky seemed overpowering.

  A sudden movement attracted her attention. Ahead, something darted from a bush. A rabbit. It zigzagged away from them, racing toward the mountains.

  At once, something else appeared, a larger animal bounding from a depression in the ground, chasing the rabbit. For an instant, Amanda thought it was a wolf, but then she realized that its markings didn’t match any pictures of wolves that she’d seen. It’s a German shepherd, she realized. The dog and the panicked rabbit disappeared down a hidden slope.

  No one spoke. It struck Amanda as odd that when they were in the building, they hadn’t hesitated to talk, but now that they were in the open, a hush fell over them, broken only by the sound of their boot steps.

  “Ever see Hitchcock’s North by Northwest?” Bethany asked unexpectedly.

  Her voice came from two places—Bethany herself and Amanda’s earphones. A schizoid effect. Amanda didn’t know how long she could bear this. Frank, where are you? God, don’t let him be dead. I’ll go crazy if he’s dead.

  You’re not crazy now? She was terribly aware that she addressed herself in the second person, something else that was schizoid.

  The others, too, looked startled by Bethany’s question. It was as incongruous as the way Bethany’s expensive necklace, rings, bracelet, and watch contrasted with her jumpsuit.

  Ray answered, self-conscious about being overheard. “Is that the one with Cary Grant on Mount Rushmore?”

  “Yeah, the faces of four presidents are carved into the mountain.” Derrick sounded subdued. “I saw North by Northwest in a course in college. The bad guys chase Cary Grant and, what’s her name, Eva Marie Saint, across the faces.”

  “In an earlier scene, he gets off a bus at a cornfield,” Viv said.

  Amanda sensed a change of tone now, their voices less tentative, as if they hoped that a conversation about something familiar would help them feel normal.

  “The cornfield,” Bethany said. “Yes. Grant gets off a bus in farm country. He’s been told to meet somebody and get information about whoever’s trying to kill him.”

  Two large birds circled above them.

  “Vultures,” Derrick said.

  As the s
hadows passed over them, Bethany returned to the safety of talking about the movie. “After a long time, a car goes by, and Grant keeps waiting. The situation seems even stranger because Grant’s standing on this deserted farm road, wearing a suit.”

  Hiking through the brittle grass, Amanda saw a gully ahead.

  “Then a truck comes from the side of the cornfield,” Bethany said. “This is after about a minute of Grant doing nothing but stand there. A woman lets a farmer out. The truck leaves. The farmer and Grant nod to each other. We hear a drone in the background, a crop duster flying over a field. Then another bus shows up, and the farmer climbs aboard, but not before telling Grant how strange it is that the plane’s dusting crops where there aren’t any. Grant thinks about this. The bus drives away. Grant thinks some more, glances toward the crop duster, which starts flying in his direction, and suddenly Grant races toward the cornfield. The plane sprays machine-gun bullets at him.”

  “Right!” Derrick said. “Grant dives among the corn rows. The pilot drops the fertilizer or herbicide or whatever his plane is carrying, almost suffocating Grant.”

  They neared the gully.

  “I read somewhere,” Bethany said, “that Hitchcock made several movies with a lot of scary enclosed spaces, that spooky old mansion in Rebecca, for example, but in North by Northwest, he wanted to try the reverse—to make open spaces threatening.”

  They paused at the top of the gully.

  “So quiet.” Ray turned in a circle, surveying the expanse of the valley and the mountains that encircled them. “I’m used to the noise of jets and cars and cities. Activity. Lots of things happening.”

  “It’s like being in that awful rubber boat.” Bethany sounded as if her dry tongue swelled in her mouth. “Nothing but sky and ocean around me. So damned quiet.”

  “Not for Derrick and me,” Viv told her. “This sort of place is mostly where we spend our time. Under different circumstances, it would be paradise.”

  “Yeah, right, paradise.” Bethany pointed. “How far do you suppose those mountains are?”