by Dana Mentink
Brooke put the pieces together. “Because no one knows about the tunnel map except the three of us. So even if Lock sent a rescue team to find us…”
“There’s no guarantee they’d make it anytime soon,” Victor said. “And I wonder…”
“What?”
“For some reason Lock doesn’t want us in these tunnels in the first place.”
“But he wouldn’t leave us here,” Brooke said in horror. “He wouldn’t.”
Victor’s eyes were flat and cold as stone when he answered. “Wouldn’t he?”
Brooke had no answer. She could not bring herself to believe Lock would abandon them to die. “I can’t accept that.”
Victor’s face softened as he looked at her. “I’m not used to seeing the good side of people. I’m sure you’re right.”
Brooke wanted to touch him then, to bring the tenderness back to his face that she had seen before. Had he always been so hardened about his fellow man? Or was that a consequence of his wife’s violent death? She was distracted from her thoughts by Stephanie.
“Guys, Lock may not be our biggest problem right now.”
Victor gave her a questioning glance.
“The temperature,” she explained. “It’s rising. Rapidly.”
ELEVEN
Victor was amazed he hadn’t noticed the change himself. The temperature was definitely hot and seemed to be edging up with every passing second. He took off his jacket, sweat already dampening his shirt. “This must vent from an active steam tunnel.”
“Active?” Stephanie said. “I thought the tunnels were shut down due to the renovation.”
He shrugged. “Guess they haven’t gotten around to shutting them all down yet.”
Brooke’s face was flushed, cheeks pink.
Stephanie fanned her sweaty bangs with a notepad. “Probably close to eighty in here already, and climbing.”
Victor studied the walls again, which were comprised of rows of neatly constructed brickwork with no exit to be seen. He shined his flashlight through the locked grate again, trying to decide if the air felt cooler on the other side. He looked around for a section of pipe or rock, anything that he could use to hammer at the lock.
Brooke understood and peered around. “Here,” she said triumphantly. “I found a loose brick in the debris.”
He hammered at the sturdy lock, hitting it so hard that sparks flew through the darkness. The brick only seemed to ding and scratch the lock, which showed no signs of weakening. No shoddy construction here. He kept at it anyway, frustration fueling his efforts in spite of the heat that now seemed to press down on him from all sides.
The doctor side of his brain took over.
Hyperthermia would be the result of prolonged exposure to excessive heat. When their bodies became too overwhelmed to self-regulate, their temperatures would climb uncontrollably. And when they soared into the neighborhood of 104, they would all be in danger of heatstroke. He looked at Brooke. Was she acting confused? Dizzy? Was Stephanie’s face still damp with sweat or becoming hot and dry, a sure sign that she was succumbing?
“Drink as much water as you can,” he called to them, pounding harder, harder, willing the lock to give way.
“Stop, Victor.” Brooke held on to his arm. “It’s not going to help. You’re going to overheat yourself faster.”
“I can’t just sit here.”
“Maybe the temperature will stabilize,” Brooke said.
“Or maybe it won’t.”
“Stephanie is trying her phone again. Please, Victor.” Her tone was pleading now.
Stephanie’s slow shake of the head told him that wasn’t going to work. His hands burned from the effort of pounding. Sweat streamed off his face.
“Victor,” Brooke said, tugging at his arm. “You’ve got to stop.”
He turned on her. “I’m not going to sit by and watch two more women die.”
“We’ll be all right,” Brooke said.
“You don’t know that. No one can know that.” Anger spiraled inside him.
She looked at him with a calm that made his rage boil over.
“What do you suggest? Prayer? If you’re so tight with God, why don’t you offer up a prayer now and see if He could help us out?”
She looked down.
“What’s the matter?” he said, feeling the same fury he’d felt after Jennifer died. “Are you afraid He isn’t listening?”
“No.”
“What is it, then?” Victor demanded, body on fire.
She lifted her head then and transfixed him with such a penetrating look, soft and gentle, that it momentarily doused his anger. “He always listens,” she said. “But sometimes He says no.”
He turned away then, trying to collect the thoughts that rose up inside him like a flame. How could she have that soft gentleness about her? How could it survive the bashing and humiliation, the fear that he knew she must have about inheriting the family disease?
“I won’t accept it. I won’t let anything else be taken from me,” he barked as he started hammering away again until his vision started to blur.
Brooke made a move to stop him, but Stephanie called to her. “Come sit with me. We’ll look at the map and see if there’s anything we might have missed.”
They sank to the floor and he shot them a quick look. Red faced, eyes wide.
Soon they would become unresponsive.
Then they would stop breathing, stepping over the void into a place from which he could not bring them back, like he hadn’t been able to bring Jennifer back.
He pounded until his hands bled.
His peripheral vision failed and all he could see was that unyielding metal before him.
Hotter and hotter.
So hot he felt as if he was being cooked.
Sweat poured down his face.
The futility of his labors became clear when the brick broke in his hands and the lock remained fast.
His eyes found Stephanie’s through the gloom. He saw that she understood.
He could not get them out.
His head dropped and he felt the strength ooze out of him until he could barely stand. An arm went around his waist and Brooke was there, gently moving him away, urging him to sit next to her.
“It’s okay,” she said. “We’ll wait here for Tuney. You did your best.”
“My best wasn’t enough. Not for Pearson, Jackney and Rivera.” And not for Jennifer.
“Who are they, Victor?”
He could not answer. He could not manage to draw a full breath. His body had overheated to the point of no return.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
She wiped his face with the sleeve of her jacket and pressed a water bottle to his lips. “Drink.”
He didn’t want to soothe the fire in his body to accept the comfort of her touch on his face. The only thing that could quench the heat was the knowledge that Stephanie and Brooke would not die in that dark hole. Just as he summoned up his last remaining bit of strength to try to stand again, a grinding noise filled the space.
Brooke looked wildly around. “What’s that?”
“It’s coming from behind the pipes,” Stephanie whispered.
Victor tried to ease the flashlight out of his pocket. Who or what was making the noise? His body refused to cooperate. He could not force his shaking hands to act.
Just before he passed out, Victor thought he heard a voice, a man’s voice, but he knew it couldn’t be.
He let the darkness claim him.
* * *
Brooke froze from her position on her knees, wetting Victor’s forehead as she saw a stone panel in the floor ease away. A head appeared in the opening, a head bristling with braids.
“Stryker,” she cried out, body shuddering with relief. She knew Victor would not make it much longer after his superhuman effort to free them.
He heaved himself up into the space. “Hot in here.”
“Where have you been?” Stephanie demanded.
&
nbsp; “Seems like we should talk about that later. He don’t look so good.” He jutted a chin at the unconscious Victor. “Come on.”
Without another word he disappeared back into the floor, leaving Brooke and Stephanie to drag Victor to the hole. The air coming from the opening was blessedly cooler and Victor’s eyes flickered open. He immediately struggled to get to his feet but both women restrained him.
“Give yourself a minute,” Stephanie said, her face washed in relief.
“I’m okay,” he said, pushing himself up and grabbing on to a pipe for support, quickly pulling his hand away from the heated metal. “Am I hallucinating or is that a hole in the floor?”
Stryker popped up. “You people are slow.”
Victor’s eyes widened. “How did he…?”
“We’ll sort that out later.” Stephanie climbed down a ladder cemented to the side of the passage. “Careful, Victor.”
Victor insisted that Brooke go next in spite of her protests. “I’m not leaving until you do.”
Brooke saw the futility of arguing and started down twenty feet of ladder, the air growing cooler with each step. Her body shook with the change in temperature, and she wished she could put her jacket on. She stopped to listen for the regular sound of Victor’s feet on the rungs above her. His voice reassured her, strong and clear in the darkness.
“I’m fine,” he called. “Keep going.”
It seemed like forever, though it was probably only a quarter hour or so before they reached the bottom, feet splashing down into several inches of murky water. The chamber they now found themselves in was narrow, low and cool. Both Stryker and Victor had to hunch over.
Stryker pointed. “’Nother hour that way. It’s not a direct route but you guys destroyed the other way.”
“How did you know that?” Victor said.
“I was hanging back, letting you get a head start.” He grinned. “Heard the whole thing so I used another way.”
“I thought you were going to be our guide,” Stephanie said, brushing a cobweb from her shoulder.
“Looks like I am,” Stryker said.
“Why did you stay back?” Brooke prodded.
Stryker scratched his chin. “Saw the dean on the steps of the library. An old guy hanging out with you, too. Didn’t feel the need to introduce myself to the whole gang.” He rolled his shoulders. “Who’s grandpa anyway?”
Brooke watched for Stryker’s reaction when she told him. “He’s a private investigator hired by the university to find Professor Colda.”
Stryker didn’t answer.
“Do you know where Colda is?” Brooke asked.
“Nah,” Stryker said. “Why would I?”
“Because Professor Colda knew the tunnels well, and so do you,” Victor chimed in. “Never came across him in your wanderings?”
“I said no, didn’t I? You want to head back or stay here until midnight?” He didn’t wait for an answer but splashed away into the tunnel.
They followed, water soaking into their pant legs. Brooke was now cold through and through, but some of the sensation was not physical. Stryker was hiding something. Naïve as she was and blindly trusting as she knew she could be, it was clear that Stryker was not a man to be taken at face value.
Victor felt the same way, she knew.
She saw him check his watch.
“Tuney should have reached the entrance by now, unless it was obstructed,” Victor said.
The water grew deeper, now flowing around their knees. Bits of debris swirled around and occasionally something bumped against Brooke’s shins, startling her. The flow grew stronger and they had to push against the current. Fatigue began to overwhelm Brooke as she doggedly pressed on.
Victor squeezed by and took her hand, helping her plow through. There was such strength in his touch, even after their recent close call. She thought about his strange comment.
My best wasn’t good enough, not for Pearson, Jackney and Rivera.
She understood, or thought she did, about Jennifer, but she did not understand the others. What would it be like to be so alone? To have to carry the responsibility for those around you on your shoulders instead of placing them in God’s hands?
God was the only way she got through the day, knowing Tad was living away from his beloved home, watching her father slip deeper into a dark abyss, recalling her ruined dreams of becoming a dancer.
If she believed this world was all there was…
The gloom pressed down, chilling every part of her except her hand, clasped firmly in Victor’s. She squeezed his fingers.
He looked at her, surprised. “What’s that for?”
“Just wanted to remind you you’re not alone.”
His mouth opened, but no words came out. After a moment he looked away. “Thanks.”
Perhaps it had been too much, too intimate a gesture. When they stopped at the junction of two passageways, the flow of water eased and he let go of her hand, confirming her thoughts.
Ahead was an opening halfway up the wall, approximately five feet by five feet. Stryker pointed them away. “That way.”
Victor sloshed forward and peered into the opening. “What’s in there?”
“Old utility room. Let’s move.”
Victor looked over the ledge and peered into the space. “Looks dry in there.”
“If you stay here to sightsee, you’ll do it alone,” Stryker snapped, moving ahead.
“Okay,” Victor said, his expression mild. He took out the spray can from his pocket and added an arrow to the wall. “Just in case we want to come back and revisit this location.”
Stryker’s face was grim, but he did not respond before he marched forward.
Victor lagged back a pace and Brooke saw the excitement on his face. “Tell me.”
“I thought I saw some supplies, recent.”
“What kind of supplies?”
He was about to answer when Stryker shouted from the front. “Pick up the pace. The water’s deepening up here.”
Victor pressed his mouth to her ear. “Tell you later.”
His lips left a tingling trail down her cheek and neck as they hurried to catch up with Stephanie and Stryker, Victor stopping every so often to spray an arrow on the wall.
It was another hour before they reached another tiny circular chamber with a sturdy iron ladder leading upward.
Stephanie laughed. “I’ve had my fill of step aerobics today, but I guess one more won’t hurt.”
Brooke noticed a series of small metal grates, about a foot square, circling the chamber at intervals. The air coming from them was warm, reminding her of their brush with hyperthermia.
Stryker waited behind, ushering them up the ladder ahead of him. “Leads to an exit just outside the Professor House,” he said. “Meet you up top.”
Brooke followed Stephanie up, craning her neck to see some glimpse of sky or stars or even the fog that she had so recently grumbled about.
As she climbed past the small grate, legs heavy with fatigue, she felt a prickle across the back of her neck. It was the barest gleam, a speck of white in the darkness, showing for a split second from behind the grate.
A gleam that her overtired senses interpreted in the strangest way.
A set of eyes.
Watching.
From behind the iron bars.
She blinked, and they were gone.
TWELVE
Pushing a heavy round grate aside, they emerged from the tunnel into a darkening courtyard. Victor sucked in a lungful of clean air, delicious after the stale environment in the tunnels. It took him a second to get his bearings and realize that Stryker was right. They were in the rear of the Professor House, the opening tucked neatly behind a clump of overgrown shrubbery that made it nearly invisible to any casual passersby.
He was not surprised to see that Stryker had not emerged from the tunnels.
“Is he okay?” Brooke said, peering back down into the space while Victor replaced the grate. “I don’
t see any sign of him.”
“I’m sure he’s fine. Chances are he’s the one who left his gear in that room I saw. He’s probably living down there.”
“But you want to check it out again?”
He nodded. “There’s something there that seemed odd but I couldn’t put my finger on it and Stryker certainly didn’t want us to investigate.” He noticed an odd look on Brooke’s face. “Something wrong?”
“I… No. All that creeping around is making me paranoid.”
“Do you think Stryker will show up tomorrow?” Stephanie said.
Victor considered. “Maybe. He still hasn’t gotten any money out of the deal.”
Brooke sighed. “This whole thing just keeps getting more complicated.”
“I’ll second that,” Tuney said, emerging from the Professor House. “Just got here and I went inside to use the phone when you all popped out of the ground like a pack of gophers. What happened?”
“Stryker showed us another way out.” Victor saw Tuney’s eyes search the darkness. “He didn’t want to stick around.”
“Sounds like an upstanding guy.” Tuney scowled as they walked back to the women’s dormitory. He checked his phone on the way, listening intently to a voice-mail message.
Victor tried to put the events in order in his mind, to gain some sort of clarity about their next attempt. Should they even try to access the tunnels again? To risk another collapse again for the sliver of a chance that Brooke’s theory was correct?
More than a sliver. The painted pawns proved Colda had been down there.
But they didn’t prove he’d stashed a Tarkenton there, Victor reminded himself grimly. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day. Let’s start again tomorrow.”
When they reached the dorm, Tuney excused himself. “I’ll be busy tomorrow. Don’t suppose it would do any good to tell you three to stay out of trouble until I get back?”
“Probably not,” Stephanie said.
Victor noticed the worry lines around Tuney’s face, deeper than they had been before. “Is there anything you need to tell us?”
He raised a thick eyebrow. “No.”
“Sure?” Victor pressed.
“Yeah.” He turned and marched away into the darkness.
