He whistled the call to his men to alert them to stand down, hoping they hadn’t met the same fate as Percy, Ed, and Wade. He waited for a response.
Silence.
He stepped closer to the cave, gun starting to shake in his hands.
The radio crackled to life.
Jared fired off a shot into the darkness, surprised by the noise.
Emerson’s voice crackled loudly, “So, Jared, have you decided whether or not I’m going to kill your wife?”
Jared pressed the button on his handset and made ready his reply.
Chapter Eleven
Written by Scott Cramer
Cassie lifted her head and placed her hand on the folded jacket she was using as a pillow. The metal zipper where her cheek had pressed against it was hot. All around her, the floor of the cave was cold and damp, but her body heat had warmed the soil. How much higher would her temperature go?
After she became ill weeks ago, her mom and dad had stuck the thermometer under her tongue every hour, it seemed. One would read the display, show it to the other, and they’d both grimace. Then, with furrowed brows, they’d force smiles, and one would tell her she was doing better, followed by the other nodding in agreement, saying, “Cassie, all you need is some rest,” or something like that.
One hundred and three degrees. That was the last reading Cassie remembered them telling her. Or had she overheard them whispering to each other? Or had her mom told that to her dad in the upstairs bedroom while Cassie was on the couch in the living room? As her fever had worsened, strangely, her hearing had improved.
Cassie heard the beat of her dad’s heart. He was lying next to her, half covered with a plastic garbage bag. His heart was now racing. It told her he was awake. Pretending to be asleep, she had listened as the rhythmic lub-dub had slowed and his breathing became deeper, and she had wished he would drift asleep. Then a thought or dream would startle him and his heart once again would start galloping. Like it was now.
Had Dad relived his conversation with Emerson? The man on the radio who was holding Mom captive had given him a choice. Trade her, Cassie, for her mother, Eve. Swap a child for an adult, but not just any child. Cassie had watched as Dad brought the radio to his lips and paused a long time, ready to respond to Emerson. Cassie’s throat had been tight with fear. Then Dad had cursed silently and turned the radio off.
The cave was silent except for the ringing hum of crickets in the tall grass outside.
The voices were getting louder, the ones she heard inside her head, the ones nobody else could hear.
Cassie opened one eye a crack. Her dad was on his back, the radio wedged under his arm, locked between his elbow and ribcage. Moonlight through the cave’s mouth provided just enough light for her to see that his eyes were closed.
She shut her eyes and wondered why she considered him her dad. The question startled her and she jerked her arm so violently that she nearly hit him, which would have revved up his heart rate. Then he might never have fallen asleep. Then what?
Cassie used to think about her parents all the time. What was a mother? What was a father? She had known forever that Eve and Jared were not her mom and dad, not in the way that her friends’ moms and dads were, and yet they were her parents. She had never understood why she had stopped asking herself those questions. Maybe it was because she loved them and they loved her, and that was enough.
She breathed in slowly and exhaled a silent whistle between cracked lips. The fever was swelling her tongue and parching her lips. It was causing her to think about certain things again. It was agitating the voices. And the fever, she could feel it pulling her toward the splash of pale green on the horizon.
Her dad’s heart rate slowed suddenly and leveled out. She opened her eyes and used her nose as a fixed point to measure the steady rise and fall of his chest. She had to act before his next nightmare kicked in, before Emerson’s threat echoed in his mind again and he woke.
Cassie reached her arm out and held her hand above the radio until her arm was shaking. She pulled her arm back and sat up. The blood pounding in her ears was muting both the crickets outside and the chorus of voices inside her. At ABC, they had taught her many survival tricks, but the saying she liked the most was this: “Hunt like a wolf, survive like a fox.” She had to plan for the worst.
Dad had piled up branches at the cave entrance. He had told her it was to make the cave warmer, but she knew it was to slow down an intruder long enough for him to take aim with his gun.
The branches would slow her down, too. If she awakened him by accident, it would be impossible for her to race to the mouth, clear away the blockage, and escape into the night. He’d grab her first. She’d blame her behavior on a nightmare, and he would believe her. He would hug and comfort her, and keep her in his sight, but then Cassie would have to find another way to do the unthinkable to one of the people she loved most.
Cassie’s stomach dropped as she eyed the pistol within easy reach.
She flushed all thoughts from her mind and then tiptoed like a fox. She carefully and as quietly as possible took apart the barricade. Straight ahead, an overgrown lawn led to a pine grove which turned into dense forest, all of it covered by a veil of pale moonlight. She’d slept and foraged in those woods before, pretending she was alone, when really an instructor was following her every move, ready to assist if she ever got into any trouble. Cassie had cried out in fear and every time the instructor came running. Now she had to make her way through the frightening dark forest to reach the light that was pulling her.
Cassie shivered when her dad mumbled. She held her breath and exhaled a sigh of relief when he remained quiet.
She moved close to him and went down on one knee. She could ease the radio from the crook of his arm, or she could snatch it and run. Wanting to get far away from the cave before he awoke, Cassie reached out and as her hand was hovering above his chest, she felt her heart skip. Her fingertips were glowing. She gulped and the sound that came from her throat was a soft croak.
Her dad’s eyes shot open. “Cassie?”
Cassie grabbed the radio and jerked it from his grasp. For a millionth of a second, they made eye contact, neither moving.
She turned and raced out of the cave.
“Cassie!” he shouted.
She tripped in the grass and sprawled out in the icy dew, the radio firmly in her grasp. She was halfway to the pine grove when her dad emerged from the cave. “Cassie!” he kept shouting.
Sprinting through the tall grass, she didn’t dare look back, fearing she might trip again. She could hear him thrashing through the tall growth as she dodged pine trees. She heard him huffing, branches slapping against his body as she was enduring the pain of branches slapping her face. He had stopped calling her name, perhaps because his lungs were burning the same as hers.
As she went deeper into the forest, the trees were taller and the branches above screened the moonlight. Soon it was impossible to see where she was going, and she ran with an arm extended in front of her.
“Cassie!” he called. “Cassie. Cassie!”
He had stopped. He was far back, so she slowed because it was safer, but she wanted to keep moving.
“Cassie! Cassie!”
Now she could barely hear her dad, but still she kept moving.
Finally, she stopped and doubled over, trying to catch her breath. She took small steps and her toe struck something hard. Using her hands, she identified the object as a large tree that had toppled. Survive like a fox, but hide like a rabbit.
She crawled on her knees until she was under a tent of the fallen tree’s branches. She was alone in the woods with the voices in her head and the radio.
She turned on the radio, brought it to her lips, and pressed the button. “Hello.”
“Identify yourself.” The gruff reply crackled immediately.
Cassie recognized the voice. Emerson.
“Who is this?”
“I want to speak to my mom.”
“Cas
sie?” Emerson blurted.
“I want to speak to my mom.”
“Cassie, where are you?” Emerson asked. “You have to tell. Where are you?”
As Emerson spoke, Cassie listened. Behind and between and around his words, she heard her mother’s voice. Cassie heard her crying out, gasping. Then Emerson said, “Here she is.”
Cassie’s heart pounded as she brought the radio close to her ear.
“Cassie, it’s Mom.”
“Mom, I’m coming,” she said and turned off the radio.
Chapter Twelve
Written by TW Piperbrook
The last half hour had been a flurry of commotion— men, guns, and orders. Eve stood in the corner of the room, her back pressed against the cold bunker wall, her heart destroyed in more ways than she could handle.
Cassie was coming. In spite of all Eve’s efforts to save her, her daughter was going to deliver herself to this madman. She watched Emerson pace the room, his face smug and determined. It was as if he’d forgotten she was even there.
Ever since Cassie had made radio contact, Eve had become part of the background, a forgotten pawn. Her purpose had been served, and now she was as insignificant as the cement walls or the ceiling. She had no idea what would come next.
But she knew she had to stop it. And she knew she needed answers.
Once Cassie arrived, it’d be too late. It was clear the man in the room was unstable. Whatever his sick game was with her daughter, she needed to prevent it.
She eyed the gun on the table, contemplating making a lunge for it. It was about ten feet away — close enough that she could trace the contours of the metal, but far enough away to be a gamble.
She inched closer. She needed to bridge the gap.
Before she could make progress, the door slammed open and two armed guards rushed inside.
“What should we do about the light we saw earlier?” one of them asked Emerson.
“Tell the others to keep moving toward it,” he instructed. “Now that I’ve got the ultimate prize almost in hand, we need to snuff it out. Preserve the darkness.”
She recognized the look of resolve on his face. It was the same expression he’d worn at the Institute meetings — the look of a man who made all the rules, everything else be damned. A few hours earlier, though, right after Jared’s radio had gone silent, she’d seen his face soften. She’d seen the chink in his armor.
It’d only been for a few seconds, and she might’ve missed it if she hadn’t been staring at him so intently. When it sounded like he’d lost Cassie, the corners of Emerson’s eyes had wrinkled with concern, and he’d pursed his lips.
Was it possible he felt for the girl? That he cared for her more than he let on? Even though he wasn’t her flesh and blood, perhaps he viewed her as his creation. It was a warped perception, but at the same time, the man wasn’t exactly sane.
Emerson stood in the center of the room, giving directions to his subordinates. If he cared about Cassie, it was impossible to tell now. A few more people had meandered into the room, and he was speaking to them like a crazed televangelist, waving his arms and raising his voice. She recognized a few of the faces as some of the people who’d first captured her, and she felt a surge of hatred. The Dark Worshippers. They’d abused her creation. Destroyed the Institute’s vision.
She’d built the weapon as a safeguard; it was never supposed to be used unless absolutely necessary, and only then, for security measures. It was never meant to destroy. The idea seemed like a contradiction, and it was one she’d wrestled with over many sleepless nights. And now it was one that would weigh on her for the rest of her life, however short that life might be.
She shuddered.
Right now, her focus was on Cassie. She needed to keep her safe. Given Emerson’s apparent mental state, there was no telling what the man might do.
Nine years ago, she’d agreed to keep Cassie, to raise her as her own, but she’d never been apprised of the details of her daughter’s involvement. Many of the Institute’s teams were siloed; for safety’s sake, the details of each portion of the project were kept from the others. As her contract stated, she’d kept the appointments; she’d brought her daughter to the Institute once a month. She’d done as she was asked, and she’d never told Jared. And now they’d betrayed her.
Emerson, of course, had known everything, and he’d used it to his advantage. He’d known about Eve’s trouble conceiving, and he’d twisted it for his own personal agenda. She wasn’t sure what his motives were, but clearly he had a plan.
Eve’s anger mounted. Bastard.
The others had left the room, and all at once it was just she and Emerson. He sat down behind the desk and stared at her. For a second, it was almost as if the two were engaged in an Institute meeting, rather than a meeting between captor and captive.
Emerson looked at Eve, then off into the distance. A wistful look crept across his face. “We’ve all known something like this was going to happen, Eve. How many times had we talked about it? That was the reason we worked so hard, and so fast. We were the first to develop this technology. It only made sense that we’d be the first to use it. The darkness was inevitable. We just helped usher it in.”
Eve shook her head, staving off tears. The man was sick. Delusional. Although she’d known it before, she was certain now — there’d be no reasoning with him.
Emerson continued. “This all happened a little quicker than I expected, but I intend to make it work. My group will be the new leaders, the ones people will rely on, the ones people will follow. There’ll be casualties, sure, but when the dust settles, we’ll rebuild.” He paused. “Things will finally be the way they were meant to be.”
Eve didn’t answer. She covered her eyes, feigning tears. In the time Emerson had been speaking with the others, she’d been moving closer to his desk. She uncovered her face, making sure he was looking away.
Then she sprang for his gun.
Chapter Thirteen
Written by Samantha Durante
Cassie moaned and shifted her weight on the musty, earthen forest floor. Her head pounded as her ears rang with the never-ending litany of whispers, the volume ratcheting up and up and up until her own voice was barely recognizable in her head.
Shaking her mind clear, she peeked out from her cozy thicket and gazed across the darkened wood at the green haze creeping up on the horizon. Something told her that was the direction she needed to head. She had to find her mother, and fast.
Trudging through the pre-dawn black, Cassie fought back the fatigue clutching at her ankles and squinted through the fever-induced blur clouding her vision. She tried to concentrate on just putting one foot in front of the other as she made her way out of the forest and back towards civilization. She’d figure out the rest when she got there.
The orange-pink sherbet sun peeked over the tree line as Cassie’s sneakers finally touched pavement. Turning to follow the winding one-lane road, she dragged her weary legs in the direction of the emerald mist pooling at the bottom of the hill, the urgent whispers still clamoring in her brain.
Cassie paused as she approached a bend in the road. Despite the chaos in her head, her auditory sense remained unnaturally sharp. She thought she heard something moving up ahead.
A gruff voice rang through the trees. “How does the boss expect us to find a lone eight year old girl in all these miles of wildness?” it griped.
“Just shut up and keep looking,” another snapped. “That prisoner told Emerson the girl would be at a camp in this area. She can’t be far.”
It was becoming hard to distinguish reality from the cacophony bleating through her mind, but these new voices couldn’t possibly have been in Cassie’s head…
“Talk about a needle in a friggin’ haystack…” the first voice muttered.
No, it definitely wasn’t. There was someone out here, and they were looking for her.
Her father’s survival training kicking in, Cassie quickly scanned the groun
d looking for a weapon. She snatched up a shard of broken grass from the blacktop and slipped it into her pocket, but before she could run, a group of armed men rounded the corner and spotted her. “There!”
Within milliseconds, there were two guns trained on her and she was being hauled into ropy muscled arms. Cassie sighed deeply, resigned. At least she wouldn’t have to walk the rest of the way.
Her eyelids fluttered shut as the group settled into a rhythmic march, headed — she hoped — back to her mother.
* * *
When Cassie next woke, she found herself in a dark underground hallway, still slung over the shoulder of one of Emerson’s men. She shivered involuntarily from the fever that continued to ravage her system.
“What do you mean the boss was taken hostage?” the soldier carrying her demanded of the hulking man blocking the door ahead of them.
“I meant what I said,” the other man retorted. “Somehow the prisoner got her hands on a gun and is threatening to shoot him if anyone touches that door. They’ve been barricaded in Emerson’s office all night.”
The soldier carrying Cassie shook his head and sighed with exasperation. “Well maybe she’ll change her tune when she sees her daughter is here.” He heaved Cassie’s weight off his shoulder and placed her roughly on her feet. “Let us through,” he commanded.
The other guy shrugged his shoulders and stepped to the side. “All yours, then.”
Cassie’s soldier rapped on the door. “Emerson? I have the girl,” he called through the heavy metal.
A woman’s voice rang out from beyond the door. Her mother’s, Cassie realized with relief. “Leave her here and step away,” Eve barked.
The soldier did as commanded, and a second later, the door swung open and Cassie was pulled into a dimly lit office. Eve kicked the door shut behind her as she embraced her daughter, and over her shoulder, Cassie could see a tense looking older man leaning against a desk beside a flickering gas lantern and an unlit electric lamp. Emerson, she realized.
The Catastrophe Theory Page 5
