by Peggy Dulle
“The electricity has to be coming into the building right?”
“From someplace, sure.”
“What if you could get a shot off at the wiring or a transformer box coming into the building?”
“My little gun’s not a rifle. It’s not going to be accurate at a distance, plus it’s pitch black outside, so I wouldn’t be able to see what I was shooting at either.”
I reached up and put my hand on a two inch pipe next to me. “Could you use one of these pipes to extend the barrel of the gun and just make several shots, hoping to hit something?”
Tom looked at the pipe and thought about it for a moment. “Maybe, but the wiring might be in the back of this building and I’d be shooting wildly at nothing.”
“I can’t sit here and wait to die, Tom. A slim chance of getting out is better than none.”
“Okay, then we could break a few more pipes, the influx of water should get me high enough to reach the window. But won’t that bring on another panic attack?”
“Not if I am the one breaking the pipes and letting in the water.”
“Okay and if the cell phone doesn’t work, I’ll shoot toward where I’d expect a telephone pole to be.”
“You’ll have to make the shot treading water,” I reminded him.
“You sure are asking a lot.” His eyes were filled with uncertainty and doubt.
Just the sheer thought of what we had to accomplish and the distinct possibility that it wasn’t going to work sent my mind and body reeling toward another attack. Tom must have seen it coming again too because I saw the panic in his eyes.
I took a deep breath, grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him toward me. We both needed to focus on something else besides our imminent deaths. “If you do it, I’ll make this my last year of teaching in San Ramon. We’ll get married in June, I’ll move to Gainsville, and we’ll start having babies right away.”
“I appreciate the incentive.” Tom put his hands on mine. He forced a smile but his eyes switched back to doubt and he mumbled, “Of course, the alternative is that we die here.”
“Well then, you better be a good shot because I’m not going to forgive you if I actually do fulfill a childhood nightmare and die by drowning.”
“Okay.” Tom took a deep breath which seemed to resolve the conflict in his mind because now I saw determination in his face.
“What are we going to do about Agent Souza? We can’t let more water get to him.”
“Let’s leave him here and close the door between this room and the one where the door is. Hopefully, it will contain the water in the other room.”
“Will we be able to open the front door when the room is filled with water?”
“Another good question,” Tom said. “The door slides open so if we can disconnect the electricity that’s holding it closed we might be able to get it pried open a few inches and then the water should flow outward to help force the door open.”
“You’re going to have to dive down to open the door because the room will be filled with water.”
“Yes, I know.”
“My dad can’t swim, so he’s not going to be able to help you.”
Tom stared at me. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Nope, he never learned.”
“But you guys had a boat.”
I shrugged. “He always wore a life jacket.”
Tom and I stood, the water was eight inches high and in another four would reach Agent Souza.
“Let’s get that door closed. It’s the best hope of keeping him dry.” Tom treaded through the water and I followed him.
I could feel the water current coming toward us, so maybe the leaks were all in the other room. At least I hoped so.
Tom closed the door, then reached his hand down to feel the bottom. “It goes all the way down to the bottom, so I don’t think any water is getting into the room.”
“Okay, let’s break some more pipes.” I pushed the pipe next to me away from its fitting and water began to flow into the room.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dad asked.
Tom explained the situation and my suggestion.
Dad kicked at a larger pipe as he said, “I knew she’d get us out of here.”
We all started shoving the pipes to the right and left, dislodging them from their fittings. The room filled quickly – soon it was at our calves, then knees.
When it got to our thighs, Tom handed me his gun, cell phone, and a two foot length of pipe. “Keep these dry. This isn’t going to work if they’re wet.”
“The water is starting to rise quickly so I think we’d better not bust anymore pipes,” my dad said.
We all nodded and stood still while the water rose.
“What are you going to do, Dad?” I asked.
“I guess it’s time to learn to swim,” he suggested.
“Hold on to any of the pipes that you can reach near the side walls. They’ll keep you afloat as long as possible, just don’t dislodge any more,” Tom suggested. “I’d rather the water started rising slower.”
Dad nodded and put his hands around a pipe near his head.
“Give me the gun and pipe,” Tom said. “It will be easier if you only have to keep one item dry and I think the cell phone is our best bet. I don’t think the pipe will work or that I’ll actually hit anything out there.”
I nodded and handed him back the two items he requested.
As the water rose to our chest, he said, “So what are we going to name our first child?”
“Boy or girl?”
“Say it’s twins.” He grabbed one of the pipes on the side to steady himself.
“It better not be twins or you’ll be carrying one of them.” I told him as I grabbed a pipe and my feet left the ground.
“Okay, if it’s a boy?”
“How about William?” Dad suggested.
“Nope, I’ve arrested two Williams. They were both really bad man. How about Greg?”
“No, I had a Greg that used to bite the other kids,” I told him.
“This isn’t going to be easy between your profession and mine,” Tom said.
“Tyler?” I suggested, as the water touched my chin and my stomach tightened. I could feel the panic attack coming back.
“Tyler sounds like a sissy name,” Tom said. “I don’t want a boy with a name that’s going to get him beat up in high school.”
“It’s not a sissy name,” I told him, then realized what he was doing. He was aggravating me to keep me focused away from my panic attack.
Tom smiled when I turned my head and frowned at him. “Okay, what if it’s a girl?”
“Emily?” my dad suggested. “It was your mother’s middle name.”
“I like Emily,” Tom said.
“Me, too.” I kicked my feet to keep me afloat. There were no more pipes to hold on to so I kept one hand on the wall to steady myself. “Dad? Are you okay?”
“Stop talking to me, Bobby. I’m trying to concentrate on kicking my feet and keeping my face above the water. I don’t seem to be able to do both at the same time.”
He went down and I said, “Tom!”
Tom held the gun and pipe over his head with his right hand and grabbed for my dad with his left. A few seconds later, my dad’s head came out of the water and he coughed up water.
“This was a lousy idea,” I said. If I lost my dad after just finding him a few months ago, it was going to kill me!
“You hold the gun and the pipe and I’ll keep you afloat,” Tom told my dad.
“I don’t need your help,” my dad said, then went under again.
Tom reached for my dad, but his hand came up empty.
I dove down through the water, found my dad floating downward, grabbed him around the waist and drove us both toward the surface of the water.
When we both came splashing out, Tom said, “You got the cell phone wet.”
“It wasn’t going to work anyway. You said it yourself.” I held on to
my dad, kicking my legs and keeping us both afloat. But you know what really sucks?”
“Besides betting our lives on an impossible shot with a small caliber revolver and a piece of pipe?” Tom replied.
“No. I still have no idea what is going on in this town except Doc Sanders and Henry Mullins are up to something and I haven’t found out whose family will be killed next week.”
“If we get out of this alive, we’ll track the doctor down and ask him,” Tom said.
“I just remembered where I saw one of those tractors before,” my dad said.
“Was the land being leveled for a building?” I asked, pulling my dad’s face further out of the water.
“No, they were testing the land to see if there was any oil in the ground.”
“You think there might be oil in Ridgedale?” I asked.
Dad shrugged.
“What do you call that kind of tractor?”
“Seismic tractors or something that starts with a v,” Dad suggested.
“Does it sound like viper?”
“Yeah, I think its vibroseis truck.”
That word would look the same to someone reading lips, I thought. I grabbed a few of the pieces of wood that Dad and Tom had used to make the ladder that floated on the surface with us and handed them to Dad. He quickly put them under each arm.
“How does that find oil?” Tom asked.
“The tractor sends a pulse through the ground to simulate an aftershock after an earthquake. This expands and contracts the porous rocks, freeing the trapped oil.”
“And the hydrocarbons?”
“Both crude oil and natural gas are predominantly a mixture of hydrocarbons. If you find a high concentration of hydrocarbons, you send in the seismic truck and pound the earth. The surface shock generates sound waves which are refracted and reflected underground. The way in which the waves are propagated varies as they pass through the different strata. Using a highly-sensitive microphone known as a geophone, the geophysicist at the surface listens to the echo of these waves and records them, giving them a picture of the different layers under the earth.”
“And with that data and the chemical analysis that shows hydrocarbons, it is decided whether there is oil or not?” I asked.
Dad nodded.
“So Justin couldn’t find a contractor who had bid on the new road because there isn’t going to be a new road,” I suggested.
“Nope, I’d say they’re buying up the property so they’ll own the oil rights.”
“But do you own the oil that’s on your land?” Tom asked.
“Priscilla leases the land to the town’s people for a dollar a year. I can’t imagine any judge in the world would say that would mean that those people also own the oil in the ground.”
We were within a couple of feet of the windows. Dad was heavy and it was difficult to keep him afloat. His clothes were soaked with water but I was also getting tired of keeping us afloat by kicking my feet, and using one hand and the boards weren’t helping very much. When I tried to adjust my hold on him, I ripped Sheryl Ann’s shirt on one of the nails protruding from the board. The outfit was a total loss!
“So if she wants them to leave, why doesn’t she just kick them out?”
“I don’t think she’d that kind of person. She’d probably give the oil to whoever she leased the land to,” I said.
“Actually she doesn’t own the land. Blue Stripe Enterprises does, right?”
“That’s true.”
“What did Justin find out about Blue Stripe Enterprises?” Dad asked.
“Some corporation owns fifty percent of it and Priscilla owns the other fifty percent.”
“I bet the partner wants all the money,” Dad mused.
“But he only owns fifty percent of the company. He can’t do anything because Priscilla can block him,” said Tom.
“Not if he gets fifty-one percent,” I replied.
“How is he going to do that?”
“By courting and marrying Grace. She’s Priscilla’s daughter and will inherit one percent when she turns twenty-five, although she’s trying to fight and get her one percent now,” I explained.
“Then the partner would have fifty-one percent and Priscilla couldn’t stop him.”
“Wasn’t there some old guy hanging all over Grace at the dance?” my dad asked.
“Yes, Henry Mullins.”
“He’s got to be the partner,” my dad said.
“So why is Doc working for him?” asked Tom.
“I have no idea.”
“You think the cancer cluster that Doc reported is just a way to scare the people and get them to move?”
I thought for a moment. “Maybe. When I looked at some of the medical records it seemed that the original cause of death was something else and then they found the cancer during the autopsy. Maybe the cancer never really existed? It’s always easier if you can get people to leave on their own.”
“Henry Mullins is behind the corporation that’s partners with Blue Stripe.” Tom said, pulling all the information together into one simple sentence.
Dad nodded.
“Great. We’ve got the who, why, and what dealing with the land in this town, but what about the family who’s going to be killed?” I asked.
“It’s got to be related.”
Tom was a few inches from the window, so he placed the end of the tube onto the window seal and inserted his revolver.
“Try to hang on to something, Liza. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I pull the trigger.”
I placed my free hand on the wall. When he pulled the trigger, it echoed in the small space that wasn’t filled with water and then sent a shock wave through the water. It hit Dad and me and knocked the wind out of my lungs. We both went under and I scrambled upward to get air, then dove downward to find Dad. When I found him, I kicked my feet and sent us both to the surface, just to get hit again with another shock wave. This time I stayed afloat, holding Dad with one hand and using the other to steady me near the wall.
“Are you hitting anything?” I asked.
“Nothing on the first, but I think I might have touched a transformer on a pole outside.”
“Try it again in the same area,” I suggested.
Tom lifted the pipe and gun and fired.
I saw sparks fly in the distance beyond the window.
“Hit it again,” I told him.
Four direct shots later and the transformer exploded, sending sparks out in all directions.
“We’ve got to get out of here, those sparks might light the trees on fire,” Tom said, letting the gun go into the water.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m out of bullets and I can’t swim and hold on to the piece at the same time. I’m going down to see if I can open the door with this pipe.”
“I can go with you,” I suggested.
“Nope, you keep your dad afloat, I’ll see if I can get the door open.”
Tom disappeared into the murky water.
The water continued to rise. I was level with the window and could see a few little fires in the trees around the pole. At least if the forest caught on fire, the fire department would arrive and they could get us out of here.
Tom came up, gasping for air.
“Any luck?”
“I think I got it to budge. I’m going back down.”
As he disappeared again, another explosion, much stronger and louder hit the building.
“What was that?” I said to my dad.
“I think the marina store and café just blew.”
“Great! Now we’ve got one big fire and several small fires at the Lagoon.”
Dad shrugged. “The big one should bring the fire department quicker.”
I rolled my eyes. The water was in the middle of the window and Tom hadn’t come up again in several minutes. Something was wrong.
“Dad, can you tread water for a few minutes. I want to check on Tom.”
“It has b
een a while since we’ve seen him, hasn’t it? I’ll be all right. I can reach the shop lights on the ceiling, so go ahead.”
When my dad had a grip on one of the chains holding up the lights, I dove under. The water was considerably clear and I saw Tom pulling on something. I kicked my feet harder and got next to him. His foot was caught under some piping that must have fallen when the second explosion shook the building. He was pulling his leg but nothing was happening and he had lost the small pipe he had been using to open the door. Tom was trapped, Dad was probably sinking and I started to feel a full scale panic attack coming on.
CHAPTER 23
We were in serious trouble and I just didn’t have the time to panic. I shook my head to clear it and dove down where Tom’s foot was caught. Several large pipes had fallen on it, so I found the small pipe he had probably dropped when hit with the shock wave, put the tip under the large pipes and swam downward as hard as I could, kicking my feet and forcing the pipe downward. Just like a fulcrum effect on a teeter-totter – if one end goes down, the other must come up. Within a few seconds, the large pipes were loose and Tom and I shot toward the ceiling.
When we broke the surface, both of us were gasping for air. Dad was still above the water which had completely covered the window. At least some of the water was going out the window. Maybe somebody coming to put on the raging fire would notice the building leaking water from a tall window, so they would come to investigate and open the door. The water will rush out and they would find our bodies. No way!
“Let’s go down and try to open the door together,” I told Tom.
He nodded and we both dove downward. I picked up the pipe and we tried to wedge it between the door and jamb, but it was just too big. If we had something pointed, it would work better. I pointed upward and Tom and I swam for the surface again.
When we were up, I said, “You think if we used one of the gears, it might slip in between the door and the jamb?”
“If we could find one thin enough, maybe. Once we got it stuck between them we can insert the pipe into the opening in the middle of the gear and force the door.”
“Okay, let’s go search for a thin gear.” I dove down again. I used my hands to search around the floor since we had dislodged several gears when we were moving the pipes to allow the water to escape. I found several, picked them up and swam toward the door. Tom was already there trying to insert a gear. His was a quarter of an inch thick and he still couldn’t get it between the door and jamb.
