The Well's End

by Seth Fishman

  “What about our parents?” Rob asks. He’s taken his glasses off and is cleaning them on his shirt, which I think is an excuse not to look anyone in the eye and show his concern. But we’re all concerned. Jimmy and Odessa stop roughhousing and pay attention.

  “Rob, see—” my dad begins, but Veronica interrupts him.

  “We don’t have any more time, Rob. We have to prep for the water. We can’t help anyone if we leave the Cave now. As soon as we harvest a good supply of the water, we’ll try to figure our way out of this and inoculate everyone.”

  “But you have the vial,” he persists, his voice going a bit shrill.

  Dad takes Rob’s pleading gaze head-on and speaks with a quiet authority. “Rob, I understand what you’re saying. But what if that water ends up in Blake’s hands? He’d use it on his troops. We’re surrounded down here, and we’d never make it to Westbrook or Fenton with the vial. We have to wait for an ample and sustainable supply. We can’t risk losing it, not yet. Your parents are in town, and town is probably okay.”

  “Probably.” Jimmy snorts.

  “Yes, probably.”

  “This is wrong. You can help them—you have to help them.” Rob’s cheeks are red now. Everyone’s quiet, watching him try not to cry. I’ve never seen Rob cry, and my heart aches for him.

  “Rob,” Dad says, “I swear to you we’ll leave as soon as we can. It’s supposed to happen in a few hours. When the pumps are running and we have a few gallons in hand, I promise you we’ll leave then, Blake or no. Okay?”

  He takes in a shaky breath and heads toward one of the couches. The others follow him into the room. No one’s too happy right now.

  Dad pulls me off to the side. His shock of hair is scattered all across his forehead, making him look like a mad scientist. Maybe he is one. “You okay?”

  I shrug and pick at my fingernail.

  “Need anything?” His eyes split to Brayden and back.

  I shake my head, annoyed he has time to focus on Brayden and me. He’s going to lecture me, isn’t he? A rage builds, and I just wait for him to bring it up so I can yell.

  “How’s Jo holding up?”

  That dumps water on the fire. I didn’t expect that. The others are worried about their parents, while she already lost one. But she’s already more focused, less full of grief. All things considered, she’s totally surviving. I don’t know if I could do as much. When Mom died, I cut school for a week and didn’t speak to anyone for a month.

  “I think she’s okay,” I respond tentatively. “She has a right to be upset, you know?”

  “I know,” he replies. And I believe him. He’s more tired than I have ever seen, and his breathing is harried. In the bright light of the room, he looks almost sick. “Trust me,” he goes on, “I know. Kids are dying right now, the virus might be creeping onto the highways and spreading across the state. But you realize, Mia, you know that’s why I’m waiting for the water. Without it, we are all dead anyway. With it, we’re in the position to just give Blake a little water to go away and then we help everyone.” He swallows hard, his eyes rimmed in red. He’s boxed in, decades of waiting for this moment, and it’s surrounded by tragedy. He leans in, kisses my forehead. Then brings his eyes to mine and tries to smile. “Listen, hon. I know this isn’t how you envisioned it, but happy birthday, and I’m sorry I don’t have anything planned. But I promise I’ll make it up to you when we’re out.”

  He sounds so earnest it’s bizarre. Like he actually thinks my birthday is on my mind at this moment. “Dad, I don’t care about that.”

  “Maybe you should,” he replies, smiling. “I think that somehow all of this has everything to do with you. Remember, you were born on the day the water came last time, and if it comes today . . .” He takes a breath and then his face gets serious, worry etched into the skin. “I might not see you for a while, hon. If the water returns, I’m going to have my hands full. You understand that, right? If you need something, use the intercom near the door, but don’t leave. I want you safe.”

  I nod grudgingly, trying to fight back silly irrational tears. This isn’t the end of some movie. I don’t need to say good-bye to my dad like I’ll never see him again.

  He pats my head, and then follows Veronica out of the room.

  20

  ALONE IN THE REC ROOM, WITH NOTHING TO DO beyond the mundane, I’m suddenly antsy. So are the others. Jimmy and Odessa gravitate to the foosball table. The rest of us do too, and end up watching the game, Jimmy’s tongue poking out of his cheek, Odessa blowing her hair from her eyes.

  “It looked like a diorama in the Museum of Natural History,” says Rob out of nowhere, talking about the cavern with the well.

  “That’s in New York, right? I’ve never been to New York,” Jimmy says, looking thoughtful. “My aunt lives in Queens. Maybe when this is done—”

  Odessa scores during his lapse in concentration. She lifts her chin cockily at Jimmy, which prompts him back to the game. Brayden idly flicks the wooden wheel indicating a point for Odessa.

  “The weird thing is,” Odessa says, not looking up, her curly hair bouncing from side to side as she plays, “I feel the same. This body, it feels natural, like it was always mine. I can’t even tell my leg was shot.” She snaps her wrist and sends the ball into Jimmy’s goal, then looks up at me, her eyes as blue as ever, maybe the one unchanged thing about her appearance. “But I’m never going to be myself again, you know? What, when this is all done, I’m going to return to Fenton and live in a dorm room?”

  “Why not?” Jimmy says, rooting around for the ball. “Why not try to be normal?”

  “Jimmy, we’ve lost the very best years of our lives. And now I’m stuck in a cave playing foosball.” I’ve never heard her like this, ever. Jimmy holds up the white ball and rolls it between his fingers, looking at the woman he’s playing against.

  “We could steal our parents’ money and elope.”

  I think we all gasp at the comment, and I know that Odessa likes what he said. Her newfound crow’s-feet dance around her eyes. But then the light seems to go out. She ducks her head back to the table. “They gotta be alive for us to steal it from them,” she says, and waves at him to play. Jimmy looks at me, and his round cheeks bounce in an odd, almost apologetic smile. I don’t know why he’s apologizing for anything, much less to me. He pops the ball into play, and Brayden and I share a glance.

  Jo has wandered away and is sitting Indian style on the floor, sifting through the DVDs. Her shoulders slump, and her legs jitter.

  “Mind if I join?” I ask, taking a seat next to her once she selects a movie. I feel like we’re back in our dorm room, about to watch Dexter, talking about Todd. Even the way she nudges me with her knee is natural.

  “Why would he release the virus this long before the water returned?” she asks.

  It’s a good question. I’ve thought about it myself. “I think because he wasn’t expecting this whole situation to keep going. He thought he could use the virus and me to get my dad to open this place up. If the water had already arrived, Dad would have just used it to heal everyone. Sutton screwed up because he never thought we’d escape.”

  “But Westbrook . . .”

  It’s hard to imagine the school right now. Most of the students would look like they were in their sixties or seventies. Maybe they’re dead. I pull gently at her tangled blond hair, unable to articulate anything else.

  “I bet Todd’s hot as an adult,” she ventures, a weird smile on her face.

  I can’t help but crack, “Slick hair, six-pack, chiseled jaw.”

  “He had that already,” she reminds me.

  “Fine,” I say. “Chubby gut, receding hairline, back hair.”

  Jo leans close to me and whispers, “He has the back hair already!”

  We both laugh, such a foreign sound that the others stop what they’re doing and w
atch us. But they grow bored as we keep going, laughing and hugging and happy to feel even a little normal again. The movie she’s chosen is an old one, Toy Soldiers. With that guy from Goonies and Lord of the Rings and Rudy . . .

  “Who’s that actor? The one that played Frodo’s best friend/lover?”

  “Sean Astin,” Rob says. He flops over the couch and lands on Jo’s other side, and now we’re really back in our room. He pulls out his phone and tries to take a picture of us.

  “Rob, what the hell?” I say, pushing his hand away.

  “What?” he says, looking hurt, his tiny nose crinkling. “I just thought, you know, that we could use some documentation of this place.”

  “You get any reception yet?” I ask.

  “No, nothing.” He waves the phone around the room, his calculator watch dangling.

  Jo puts her head on my shoulder, and I have to push the strands of her hair out of my face. “I wish we could watch the news,” she says. “See if they are reporting on Fenton.”

  Something about the phone and the news clicks in my head. I look over at Rob. “What happened with the walkie-talkie?”

  His mouth twitches, and he stares at the floor, not making eye contact. “I should have held on to it.”

  “When?”

  “In the water. I lost it when the aqueduct exploded.”

  Jimmy must have scored, because he screeches in delight. I look over at the sound and see the two of them in their scrubs, faces intense, playing their game. Behind them, Brayden’s standing at the door, his hand on the latch. I’m confused. What’s he doing?

  “I’ll be back,” I say, and lift Jo off my shoulder. Rob raises an eyebrow at me. “Take my spot.”

  “Do you need help?” Rob asks. And I wonder what the answer is. I hesitate, then whisper, “No.”

  Brayden waves me through the door. I turn and look at Rob, who’s watching me, and mouth, One minute.

  We step out into the hall, Brayden closing the door softly behind us.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, reaching for his hand. He gives it to me.

  “I’m sorry. The three of you seemed so comfortable. I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “Bother me with what?”

  He peers down the hallway. We can’t hear a thing. His face is pensive, his eyes quick and suspicious. There are sweat stains blooming in his armpits. He’s making me nervous. “I think there’s something more going on.”

  “More than miracle water and a killer virus?”

  He flashes a set of crooked, bleached teeth, his expression rueful. “This place is too complex not to have access to the outside world.”

  “Dad mentioned cameras, but so what? They’re not going to let us see them.”

  “That doesn’t bother me,” he replies, and starts walking down the hallway. I hesitate, looking at the door. He glances at me, his face soft and forgiving. “You don’t have to come. That’s okay. I’ll be back soon.”

  He disappears around a corner. I reach for the door but stop myself. I can hear the light sound of his footsteps on the floor. I’m hurt a little that he didn’t pull me along with him, but my curiosity is too great. I don’t like the idea of him knowing more about the place where my dad works than I do. In some weird way, I feel like this is my cave, and it’s not for Brayden to see without me. I’ve known about it all my life, Dad discovered it, runs it, and the key to saving Westbrook is here. I will not just let the chance go or let someone else experience the Cave without me.

  I jog, hurrying to catch up. And when I do, he takes my hand, his skin dry but warm. My heart rate is up, and I control my breathing instinctually. This narrow hallway feels like a swim lane. But I’ve never had anyone partner with me before. Brayden looks at me, his raven hair flying past his ears, and for the tiniest of moments, I swear he seems dismayed. His thin lips turn down, and his eyes narrow, but then it’s gone. Now he’s smiling, and his dimple flashes, and all’s well again. I fight the urge to touch his face to make sure he’s okay, but then he pulls on my arm, and we turn into another hallway.

  “Are we gonna bump into someone?”

  His face is grim. “The odds are small. We should be fine.” This place is so huge, I don’t remember where we are and where we’ve been, but Brayden seems to walk unerringly.

  Suddenly he stops, his arm going rigid in front of me, like my dad does in the car when he hits a red light. We’re in a hallway that looks exactly the same as the previous one. I feel a sense of déjà vu. We’re breathing at the same pace, and he keeps his arm in front of me.

  “What?” I whisper, but he shushes me. I try to listen and then—there! A sound. A thud. A boom.

  “What is it?”

  “Not sure, but I want to find out. This way.” We’re moving slower now. If I were in charge, I’d be going away from the sound, not toward it. This excursion was his idea. And I can’t say I don’t admire his bravery. We reach a Y-junction and head down the left corridor, the wrong one, because the sounds recede quickly, so we double back. The thud gets louder now, methodical.

  There’s a door with a keypad. I put the phone number in, and it beeps open. Brayden grins. “You have to make your dad change that.”

  I laugh, I can’t help it. Maybe it’s the nerves. “I’ll tell him after we break into everything.”

  The door opens into an indoor parking lot, like the garage at a mall, not at all what I was expecting. The sound is violent here, shaking the walls, and bits of rock and dust are falling from the ceiling. There are only three cars and a van. I’m surprised at the sudden pang I feel at seeing our Camry.

  “They’re trying to get in,” Brayden says, his voice sure of it.

  Beyond the cars is a giant set of doors. Enormous and familiar. These must be the inner doors. I’ve pounded on a pair just like them, not a hundred yards away at the entrance to the Cave. Thud, thud, thud.

  “Sounds like a battering ram,” I say.

  “More like a tank shell,” he replies, his eyes on the shaking ceiling.

  “We should tell my dad.”

  “How can he not already know?” he asks.

  “Come on,” I say, tugging his arm. “We have to find him.”

  “They’re almost here,” Brayden says, his voice strange. “Your dad said they’d breach the outer door. That can’t be long now.”

  I finally get him turned, each of his steps slow and clumsy. “What’s wrong with you?” I shout. The thuds slam in a steady beat, like a harrowing clock. Sutton knocking at the door.

  We hurry down the corridors again, aimless as can be, but we have better luck this time. A few hundred yards in, we hear Chuck’s voice coming from around a corner. We plaster ourselves to a wall, and my heart is beating so fast I’m sure he can hear it.

  “. . . be sure,” he says.

  “I’m not,” a voice replies. Female. Veronica. “But Kish is right. If we have the water, we have the leverage.”

  “I’m more worried about my life.”

  “Chuck, Blake wouldn’t do that.”

  “Fine—I’m going to the pump room. Buzz me if that crazy fuck gets in.”

  Chuck pauses in the hallway, and I can imagine him craning his neck in our direction, wondering if this way is faster than that. Brayden puts a finger to his lips, his eyes flash with warning. Chuck begins to walk, his footsteps echoing loud, and I turn to run, but Brayden snatches my wrist hard enough that I have to bite my tongue to keep from shouting. Sure enough, the echoes fade and he’s gone, deeper into the mountain. Brayden unlatches his hand from my wrist. I try to keep hold by grabbing his sleeve.

  “Let’s go,” he whispers, moving toward the very room Veronica is in.

  “But you were right. She knows about Sutton trying to get in. Won’t she just be pissed that we’re out of the rec room? Let’s go back.”

  “She’s where
I want to go,” he says, his eyes distracted. “I’m not worried about her.”

  I wonder why, but I don’t say anything. And I follow him down the hall and into a control room, full of panels, switches and security videos for the Cave. A display three times as large and a hundred times more sophisticated than what we saw at the aqueduct. It looks like a semicircular mission control for NASA. Rob’s mouth would water just seeing this. How did Brayden know this was here? On the screens I see the greenhouses and the door near the exit. There’s the Map Room. The rec room, where Jimmy and Odessa are still playing in their old-people suits. I don’t see Jo and Rob, but I can’t see the couch either. And there’s the front entrance and, yes, the tank.

  “Took you long enough,” Veronica says from her chair near the screens, not spinning around. Her hand is on a lever and is pulling it slowly back. I have no idea what it’s for. I realize that she must have been watching us the whole time. Sure enough, there’s a screen that shows the parking lot.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, hoping the fear doesn’t come through my voice.

  She still doesn’t turn around. “He’s an idiot, you know?”

  “Why?” Brayden asks.

  Her hair’s in a bun, and it bounces as she nods toward the video showing the front door and the tank barrage. “Blake helped build the place. He knows the blast doors can withstand artillery.”

  “Forever?” he asks.

  Veronica shrugs. “Definitely not. Greg’s estimate might be off, but they’ll hold long enough.”

  “Where is he?” I ask, moving forward to get a closer look. She shoos me away, and I pull back. I can see soldiers, still in their hazmats. They are grainy and gray. The screen shivers and goes black, then returns slowly to normal, a layer of dust settling outside in front of the camera. A boom echoes through the Cave, a split second behind the feed. The tank rocks and reloads.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “Should be down at the well,” she replies, turning around. “But don’t go there, please. He’d kill me if he knew I was letting you run around. When it comes to the well and to the Map Room, he tolerates nothing but discipline.”