Shock Wave

by Dana Mentink

  “So there is one?” she said.

  He looked them all over one more time. “I didn’t say that.” He peered at Derick. “You look familiar.”

  Derick gave him a brilliant smile. “I’m Derick Long. Are you a movie lover? I’ve been in a few.”

  Emiliano’s eyes widened. “Yes. You’re that actor. I saw your last movie. It was about five years ago. The one where you were exploring the volcano, looking for some jewel or something.”

  “The Pearl of Enlightenment,” Rosalind interjected. Sage didn’t know how she could say the phrase with a straight face, but she seemed as impressed as Emiliano. She caught a slight eye roll from Trey that indicated he felt the same as she did about Derick’s cheesy movie.

  “You played the part of...” Emiliano snapped his fingers. “Sly Steel. I can’t believe it’s you. Wait until my wife hears about this.”

  Sage watched in amusement as Emiliano’s countenance changed from wary to wondrous and he gushed on and on until she could stand it no longer. “Please, Emiliano. We’ve got to get to our friend. She may be hurt. Is there a passageway or isn’t there?”

  He didn’t take his eyes off Derick as he answered, “Yes, there is a passageway. I will show you.”

  Sage followed Rosalind and Derick and the chattering Emiliano into the Lamplighter Hotel. “What just happened here?” she whispered to Trey.

  Trey chuckled. “I believe Sly Steel worked his charm on Emiliano.”

  Sage grunted. “That movie was terrible.”

  “I’m with you on that, but it’s a good thing Emiliano doesn’t agree with us.”

  The interior of the Lamplighter was relatively undamaged as far as she could see, except for some broken windows, a fallen picture or two and a pile of upended books tumbled from the oak shelves. The lobby was cozy, furnished in dark woods and a variety of green pillows and draperies. A stone-faced fireplace would have made a cozy gathering place in the lobby when the hotel was filled with people.

  “Did you have any injuries?” she called to Emiliano. “Any guests hurt in the earthquake?”

  Emiliano retrieved some flashlights from a box on the front desk. “No. There were only two couples staying here last night and they left immediately, though I can’t imagine how they got out of the city. They said California was no place for them.” He turned on the flashlights to check them and handed Derick one almost reverently.

  “When is your next movie, Mr. Long?”

  Derick shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve got many projects that I’m considering.”

  Sage thought he’d spent quite a lot of time considering, since his movie hiatus was going on five years now.

  “Why didn’t you evacuate?” Emiliano asked.

  Derick chuckled. “It’s a question I asked myself last night when I slept in a truck that smelled like a sub sandwich. I had to make sure all my employees were out of the Imperial.”

  Sage thought the line sounded like it might have come straight from Sly Steel’s mouth, but she refrained from comment. They filed silently past a well-appointed guest room with the unmade bed indicating a hasty departure. At the end of a hallway, a door opened into a tiny closet with a trapdoor in the floor which Emiliano unbarred and heaved open. The wood gave a spine-tingling squeal as it gaped to reveal a ladder disappearing into the darkness.

  Trey edged past Sage and started down. “I’m just going to take a look. Stay here.”

  “At the end of the passage is a door that leads to under the Imperial,” Emiliano called. Sage immediately started down after Trey.

  Fifteen rungs took her into inky darkness until her feet splashed into shallow water, soaking right through her shoes and the cuff of her pants.

  Trey did not seem surprised to find her there in spite of his direction.

  “Looks structurally sound,” he said.

  Her breath came rapidly as the darkness covered her like a cloak. Nerves prickled all over her body and she was not sure if it was excitement or the remembered terror of their earlier entrapment.

  She forced herself forward and splashed by him. “Come on.”

  He took her arm. “No way. We need to make plans and carry some supplies. I think you should stay with Rosalind and Derick, and I’ll go.”

  She yanked away. “I’m going. Right now.”

  His face hardened. “No, you’re not. I told you. If we’re going in, we’re going to be as prepared as we can be.”

  “You’re not the boss here,” she said.

  “I should be because you’re too hotheaded to listen to reason and that makes you a liability to yourself and others.”

  “It’s my life,” she hissed and moved around him.

  “Really?” he called, voice strange in the small space. “Is that why you’re charging off, to prove you’re in control of your life?”

  “I am in control.”

  “But that’s not why you’re doing this.”

  She didn’t turn, afraid of what his next words would be. “I’m here for Antonia.”

  “No,” he said quietly, “you’re here to save someone, to make up for Luis and what happened back in Afghanistan because you believe it’s your fault he’s dead.”

  She blinked hard, eyes seeing nothing but the blackness that lay ahead. “Maybe it’s just as much your fault. You were in charge of security, Captain Black.” Sarcasm rang through the air and bounced off the grimy bricks and back to her. “You should have seen it coming and taken action, but you didn’t.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Yes. I shoulder that blame willingly and I’ve asked God to forgive me.”

  “And has He? Has He forgiven you?”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “And Luis’s family?” Her voice broke, but she forced the rest out. “Have they forgiven you?”

  “Probably not.”

  His tone wasn’t bitter, and she splashed forward a few more steps, desperate to get away from Trey before he cut in again.

  “You’re here,” he said loudly, “because you think by saving Antonia and Barbara all by yourself you can ease the load of guilt off your heart, but you know what? You can’t. It doesn’t work like that, and I can tell you from experience.”

  “You’re wrong,” she said. “That’s not why I’m down here.”

  “I’ve been wrong plenty in my life,” Trey said. “But this time, I think I’m dead-on right.”

  NINE

  Trey watched her turn around, and her face was so full of fury and misery that his heart broke. She wasn’t a soldier. She was one small woman who held an enormous portion of grief and guilt and, yes, she’d caused some of it herself, but hadn’t everyone? Wasn’t the point that forgiveness was to be extended because Trey had received it himself when he certainly didn’t deserve it? Forgive me, Lord. He moved a step toward her.

  From somewhere up above came the sound of breaking glass and a shout. Trey ran to the ladder and called up. “What’s going on?”

  Rosalind shouted down, “Looters. We’re in trouble.”

  Trey charged up the rungs and went full speed ahead until he emerged in the hallway of the Lamplighter where he found Rosalind, eyes wide, holding a bronze statuette like a club. She pointed to the lobby. “They broke in through the side door and Emiliano is trying to fend them off.”

  “Go down there and tell Sage to stay put.” Trey wished he had his M16. One warning volley from that weapon and they’d scatter like scared cats. Then again, the looters might be equally well armed. He took no more time to consider, sprinting into the lobby.

  There were three guys, two skinny and white, one heavyset and dark-complexioned. The two skinnies had knives and crouched in a ready stance opposite Emiliano, who held a chair in front of him as if he were a lion tamer. Derick had his fists up, facing the heavyset
man.

  “Get out,” Emiliano shouted. “You won’t rob this hotel.”

  “We’ll take what we want,” one of them said. He lunged forward as Emiliano swung the chair, which caught him in the stomach. The second one dived toward Emiliano to assist his buddy, but Trey got to him first, grabbing a handful of the looter’s long hair and yanking him backward.

  He jerked around and Trey and the guy were face-to-face. Trey put him at somewhere in his early twenties, strong under his T-shirt and sagged jeans.

  “Listen, kid,” he said. “Do yourself a favor and get out of here.”

  The kid smiled, revealing a chipped tooth. He waved the knife in a smooth arc. “I’ll do what I want and you got nothing to say about it.”

  “You’re making a mistake.”

  “Time for you to die,” he said, still smiling, before he lunged at Trey.

  Trey did not have to think through the move; it was ingrained in him through many grueling hours of hand-to-hand combat training. He applied both hands at once, the blow on the inside of his attacker’s wrist to force his fingers open and Trey’s strike to the outside of his hand finished the job, providing enough force to send the knife clattering to the floor.

  He let the kid’s own momentum take him to the ground before he trapped his hands behind him and used his body weight to pin him to the floor. Adrenaline surged through his nerve pathways, something he had not felt since he’d left Afghanistan. He fought to control it. “You know what?” he could not resist from whispering in the kid’s ear. “I think your watch is fast. It’s not my time to die after all.”

  Trey saw that Emiliano’s attacker was lying on the floor, unconscious with bits of broken chair scattered around him. The manager raced over with a roll of duct tape to secure the kid who was writhing under Trey’s grip. “You hurt?” Trey asked him.

  “Nah, but we just had that chair reupholstered. Lousy lowlife,” Emiliano grunted as he circled the thug’s wrists and ankles with tape. When the stream of profanities issued from the kid’s mouth, Emiliano slapped a piece of tape over his lips. “Save it for the police, boy.”

  Trey got to his feet. “Where’s Derick?”

  Emiliano wiped the sweat from his forehead and scanned the lobby. “He must have gone after the big guy.”

  With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Trey ran along the hallway, checking room after room. He stopped just outside the last bedroom door, his attention caught by a faint sound, someone breathing hard but trying not to. He considered. The breather was tucked behind the bedroom door, waiting for him to step through. Judging by the height and the bulkiness of the person squashed behind the wood panel, it wasn’t Derick. He made his choice and prayed he was right, as he kicked out with all his strength at the door. It rocketed back and he heard a grunt of pain as wood contacted skull. It wasn’t hard enough to knock him out, just to stun him so Trey was able to grab him from behind the door and put him in a headlock.

  Emiliano arrived again with his roll of duct tape, and soon looter number three was secured and marched off to the lobby to await the police.

  Trey found Derick a moment later. He was lying on the floor between two twin beds, his nose bloody. Trey tapped his shoulder gently. “Hey, Derick. Can you hear me?”

  Derick groaned and opened his eyes just as Rosalind hurried in. She sucked in a breath and dropped to her knees. “Is he hurt badly?”

  Trey waited until Derick’s eyes focused. “What happened?”

  Derick’s eyelids fluttered closed again as Rosalind dabbed at the blood from his nose with a tissue. “I tried to stop the guy, but he clocked me.”

  Rosalind sighed. “When will you learn you’re not an action hero, either?”

  He offered a shaky grin. “What do you mean? I’m Sly Steel.”

  She patted his cheek. “Only in the movies, hon. In real life, you’re just an actor, a charming, impulsive, regular guy who makes his living pretending.”

  Derick sat up carefully with a helping hand from Rosalind and Trey. “Maybe I should start playing army captain roles.” He eyed Trey. “Seems like you did just fine.”

  Trey shrugged. “I just work it out as I go.”

  A gleam of resentment shone in Derick’s eyes, which Trey found natural. No man wanted to be found inadequate, especially in front of a woman. “I think you slowed him down anyway. We’ve got all three in duct tape custody, so to speak.”

  Derick stood and took the tissue from Rosalind, who continued to try to administer first aid. He shooed her away. “Excellent. Let’s get back to work, then. What did you find in the tunnel?”

  “Couple inches of water, but it’s passable. We’ll load up on supplies and go in.”

  “All of us?” Rosalind said.

  “No, we’ll leave a team outside to wait for the police and my brother when he shows up.”

  “Derick, you should stay here,” Rosalind said firmly. “You’re hurt.”

  He shook his head. “No way. I’m going in there to help.”

  Her brows drew together. “That leaves Emiliano to wait for the cops, then, because I’m coming, too.”

  “We have to leave someone to help him keep watch,” Trey said. “Especially since he’s got three more to babysit.”

  Rosalind chewed her lip. “I’ll go find someone from the police and make a pest of myself until they come here to collect the looters. Then Derick and I will follow you down. How’s that?”

  Trey wasn’t thrilled, but he couldn’t think of a better idea. “Okay.”

  Derick shook off any gestures of help and they made their way back to the lobby. Emiliano listened as Rosalind rattled off the plan. He nodded.

  “That’s just fine. I’ll be happy to get these punks off my hands.” He shot a look at Derick and the blood staining the collar of his shirt. “Are you okay, Mr. Long?”

  Derick waved him off. “Just fine. Do you have any supplies we can borrow?”

  Emiliano nodded and left the supervising to Derick while he retrieved several flashlights, bottles of water, peanut butter and bread. Trey and Rosalind hastily put together piles of sandwiches, which they distributed between Trey’s pack and a small bag he’d found for Rosalind and Derick to carry as well as a handheld two-way radio for each. Emiliano added two pairs of socks to each pack.

  He grinned sheepishly. “Socks left in the hotel dryer. Sorry they don’t match.”

  “No worries,” Trey said. “It’s the best thing in the world sometimes, just to have dry socks. What made you think of it?”

  “Spent some time backpacking in South America. Endured my fill of cold, wet feet.” Emiliano zipped the packs closed.

  Trey and Derick tested the radios.

  “Not sure if they’ll work down in the tunnels, but it’s worth a try,” Trey said.

  Emiliano nodded. “All set.” He looked around. “Is the lady waiting for you in the tunnel?”

  “I went down the ladder to tell her to stay put,” Rosalind said.

  Derick raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Sage doesn’t seem like the waiting around type. I’m surprised she didn’t come up here to get in on the action.”

  Trey felt a stab of alarm. “Me, too.”

  They exchanged a look that made his gut tighten. He grabbed his pack. “I’m going down there. Get the police here as fast as you can. With any luck we’ll have located Antonia by then.”

  Rosalind was already heading for the door as Trey jogged to the room with the trapdoor.

  “Be careful,” Derick called after him. “Remember you aren’t an action hero, either.”

  Don’t I know it. Action heroes likely didn’t have their stomachs in knots like he did, wondering whether he would find Sage waiting for him. He agreed with Derick. It was unlike her to sit patiently, but then again, she was not herself, or not the person
he’d known before Luis’s death, anyway. He was already yelling into the darkness when his feet were only halfway down the ladder.

  “Sage? Are you there?”

  He continued to descend as he yelled the second time. No answer. The tension in his stomach grew as he hit the bottom, water once again enveloping his boots.

  “Sage?” he called once more. His own voice mocked him with an echo as he looked down the empty corridor.

  * * *

  Sage ground her teeth closed to keep them from chattering. She was cold, outside and in. Trey’s words cycled through her memory in an unending loop.

  You’re here because you think by saving Antonia and Barbara all by yourself you can ease the load of guilt off your heart, but you know what? You can’t. It doesn’t work like that....

  He was infuriating and wrong. She was here for Barbara. For Antonia.

  She held the flashlight up and splashed around a pile of what appeared to be sodden linens that had spilled from a crate. But if he was wrong, why had she continued on into the darkness, all by herself, with no supplies and no clear direction?

  “Because I’m lost,” she shouted, kicking at a clump of wet sheet and hearing her words bounce through the darkness. And I’ve been lost since Afghanistan. No longer was her career the all-important driving force. It was not family that anchored her, or faith. She was adrift, so much so that she could not even be sure of who she was anymore. The only thing left was a tiny shred of strength that propelled her. Maybe not forward, but the simple act of being in motion kept the terrible fear at bay.

  Trey could not understand that.

  She sloshed along, trying to ignore the smell of mildew and the cracks that ribboned the brickwork. The tunnel walls were old, weakened by time and the earthquake. A chip of ceiling fell into the water, flinging a cold drop onto her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. Ahead a section of the wall had collapsed and a cascade of tumbled bricks filled nearly a quarter of the passageway.

  A set of eyes gleamed from the top of the pile as a rat regarded her curiously. She should have been disgusted, but it was oddly comforting to have another living creature sharing the space with her.