Children of the Mountain (Book 2): The Devil You Know

by R. A. Hakok

  ‘We ready?’

  She nods in the direction of the cage opposite.

  ‘What about him?’

  Hicks looks over. The fury presses itself further back into the shadows.

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘We can't leave him here.’

  ‘We can and we will.’ He turns to me, like this is something I need to pay particular attention to. ‘You think Doc’s just going to let this go? Truck’s probably already figured out you gave him the slip, which means he’ll most likely be back here in a few hours. With a bit of luck it’ll be too late for them to set out after us right away, but even so I reckon we’ll have a day’s head start at most. Boots will slow them down, and that might just be enough if you two can keep the pace. But not if we’re hauling that thing along. It’s been in there so long it probably can't even stand straight.’ He looks into the cage. ‘Besides, it’s about to turn. I reckon it’s got a day or two left at most.’

  The fury glances up as he says this but Hicks doesn’t seem to notice. Right now all I care about is getting Mags out of here and back to Eden as quickly as possible, and what he’s saying makes sense.

  ‘Mags, you sure?’

  She nods. ‘I’m not leaving without him Gabe.’

  I look down into the cage. Its eyes are still freaking me out but it doesn’t seem like it means us harm. If what Hicks says is true and it’s about to turn I really have no interest in bringing it with us, however. But I also recognize the tone in Mags’ voice. Once she’s set her mind on something there’s little can be done to change it.

  ‘Hicks, we have to take the kid.’

  ‘Aw hell Gabriel, it’s not a kid. Might have been once but not anymore, and certainly not in a few days from now when it’s looking at you like you’re a side of prime rib and I have to put a bullet in it.’

  The fury shakes its head as it hears this but Hicks isn’t even looking at it now.

  ‘They don't sleep, you know. Which means you won’t be able to either. How long do you think you’ll be able to keep that up?’

  ‘Gabe, I’ll watch him.’

  Hicks turns to Mags.

  ‘And who’ll watch you, darlin’? Christ. Here, gimme your flashlight.’ I dig the windup from the pocket of my parka and hand it to him. He points it into the cage and cranks the handle. The dynamo whirs and the bulb glows orange, then yellow, finally casting a faint pool of almost-white light that barely reaches the back of the cage. The fury instinctively presses itself even further back, raising its arms to block the beam. But then it realizes what Hicks is doing and drops them again. Its eyes narrow to slits but it holds its head up and forces itself to squint back.

  ‘See that? And that’s just something you’d pull from a crackerjack box.’ He tosses the flashlight back to me. ‘In a couple of days it won’t be able to stand the daylight. What do you plan to do then? Cut it loose? Or were you planning on another moonlight stroll, son?’

  I look back at Mags, but her expression hasn't changed.

  ‘We’re taking it, Hicks. You can come with us or let us go.’ I watch him closely as I say it, though. Because there’s a third choice of course. He could just stop us, right now, and make his peace with Gilbey. His fingers don’t stray any closer to the pistol on his hip but I can see him working through the options himself. In the end he shakes his head like he’s trying to figure out just where this all went wrong.

  ‘Alright, alright.’

  He looks at Mags and the cage he’s just sprung her from and then back at me, like he’s deciding which of us is less likely to cause him trouble.

  ‘Gabriel, you remember that first room we passed as we came in? In there you’ll find a crate with 99 on the side of it. Bring it to me. And come straight back y’hear? No exploring this time.’

  I hurry off down the aisle, winding the flashlight as I go. I get to the storage room he meant and step inside. The ceiling’s low and I have to duck my head to avoid hitting it off the bulkhead lamps bolted to the concrete. Rows of shelves line the walls on either side. For as far as I can see with the flashlight they look empty but the beam doesn’t stretch as far as the wall at the end.

  As I make my way between the shelves the flashlight lands on a single crate, the number 99 stenciled on the side of it. It looks like it’s been sitting there a while. I drag it down, dislodging a thick layer of dust. Motes drift lazily through the beam and settle on the concrete floor.

  I’m about to turn back but something makes me point the flashlight further along the aisle. Up against the back wall I can see stacks of empty crates, just like the one I’m holding. They’re nested inside one another, so only the bottom crate in each stack is visible, but it looks like they each have a number stenciled on the side too.

  Spidey’s been keeping up a low-level grumble ever since the camera by the blast door but he takes it up a notch at that, and maybe then I should have paid more attention. But something else catches my eye. I set the crate I’m carrying down and make my way towards it.

  All the way back in the darkness there’s one more crate. It looks just like all the others, but as I get closer I can see it’s not. This one doesn’t have a number stenciled on it; it has a name instead.

  It says Amanda Gilbey.

  *

  MAGS HAS ALREADY pulled on her ski pants and is lacing up her boots as I return. The fury’s moved closer to the front of its cage. It peers out through the bars, its eyes shifting nervously between me and Hicks.

  I set the crate down and unsnap the lid. Inside there’s everything it might need – jacket, gloves, boots, even a small pair of goggles. Spidey really hasn’t been happy since I went back into the storage room and now he grumbles about this too. But I’m still a little distracted by the other crate I saw in there, and mostly just keen to get us out of here, so I hush him.

  Hicks unlatches the cage and swings it open. But the fury shuffles toward the back and won’t come out. It keeps staring up at him, its eyes filled with mistrust. Mags looks up from unpacking the crate.

  ‘Sergeant, why don’t you stand back a little further?’

  Hicks squints down at her like he doesn’t believe this is where his orders are coming from now, but in the end he just sighs and does as she says. The fury hesitates a moment longer and then crawls out. It looks around uncertainly. Squatting on all fours like that it looks like a miniature version of the thing that attacked Ortiz. For a second the memory of the fear I felt in the hospital twists my insides and I wonder whether we’re making a terrible mistake.

  Mags bends down next to it.

  ‘Can you stand, Johnny?’

  It grips the side of the cage and tries to pull itself upright but all it manages is a chimp-like crouch. She has to help it into the clothes from the crate. When she’s done Hicks tears several strips of duct tape from the roll and hands them to her.

  ‘Seal the cuffs of the mittens to the arms of the jacket. Last strip’s for its mouth.’

  Mags looks like she might be about to argue but Hicks just shakes his head.

  ‘We’re done discussing this. It’s that or I go fetch the catchpole.’

  She turns back to the fury.

  ‘It’ll be okay Johnny. Just ’till we get out of here.’ She tapes up its mittens. It doesn’t object as she places the last strip of tape over its mouth.

  We leave The Greenbrier the way we came in.

  Mags holds the fury’s hand as we climb the stairs back to the upper levels. It manages them without too much difficulty; by the time we reach the top I think it might already be standing a little taller. When we enter the plant room it cranes its neck, swiveling around to take in each detail, like it wants to look everywhere at once. Hicks keeps a close eye on it as it steps up onto the metal gangway but it just grips Mags’ hand and follows her across. We leave the plant room and make our way down the long corridor in silence. We pass through the decontamination showers and then we’re back out in the tunnel.

  I counted two hundr
ed paces from this point when we were coming in, but somehow it seems longer on the way out. The camera above the entrance door is still blinking as we pass under it. I keep looking back over my shoulder long after the little red light has been swallowed up by the darkness. At last I spot the circular vents and the huge blast door pushed up against the concrete ahead of us. We step through into the small chamber between it and the outer gate. The access door where we came in is still open. Hicks stops and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a small plastic container and hands it to Mags.

  ‘Take this. It’ll taste like the worst thing imaginable, but I guess you already know that by now.’

  She stares at him for a moment, like she’s working something out. Then she unscrews the cap, but instead of raising it to her lips she bends down and hands it to the fury.

  ‘Drink that Johnny. Quickly now.’

  ‘Aw, you can’t be serious.’ Hicks looks at me for support but I can’t help him. The fury hesitates, like it’s unsure what it should do.

  ‘Don’t worry; the sergeant has another one for me.’

  After only a moment’s pause it knocks it back. Mags holds her hand out for another of the vials. Hicks looks at her like he’s wondering whether any promise of a cure might be worth this, but in the end he digs into his pocket and hands one over. She unscrews the cap and lifts it to her lips. I watch as her face contorts and she bends over and clutches her stomach like she might have to throw up but after a moment it passes. She wipes her mouth with the back of her glove and reaches for the fury’s mitten.

  ‘Come on, let’s get you into some snowshoes.’

  As soon as she’s gone Hicks grabs my arm and pulls me back into the tunnel. He reaches into his pocket and hands me four more containers like the ones he just gave to Mags.

  ‘She needs to take one of these a day. Try and give them to her at the same time each morning.’

  I slip the vials into the pocket of my parka.

  ‘Aren’t you coming with us?’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘That’s all of the Doc’s medicine I could lay my hands on. If she insists on sharing it there’s only enough for another two days. I’m guessing that’s not near enough time to get you where you’re going?’

  It took us more than six days to get here from Mount Weather and Eden’s further north again. I shake my head.

  ‘Alright. I’m going to stay here, see if I can’t pick up some more. You plan on going back the way you came down, right?’

  I nod.

  ‘If there’s anything more you remember about the location of this Eden place Gabriel, now’d be a really good time to tell me. Make it a helluva lot easier for me to find you if I knew where you were headed.’

  He looks at me hard for a while but I just shake my head.

  ‘Fair enough. Well, stick to the interstate for as long as you can. If you have to get off it for any reason leave me a sign. I’ll catch up to you soon as I can.’

  He steps back over to the wall and hits the switch to start the close sequence. A second later the electric motors kick in, whining under the load as they slowly start to pull the huge blast door back from the wall.

  He looks over my shoulder again. Mags is still over by the access door strapping the fury into a pair of snowshoes, so she’s got her back to us. His hand slips into the pocket of his parka. He hesitates for a moment and then passes me something cold and heavy wrapped in a Ziploc bag. I don’t need to look down to know what it is.

  ‘There’s a round in the magazine; all you need to do is pull the slide back to chamber it. You remember how to do that, right?’

  I nod.

  ‘Good. Now when they turn it’s quick, like someone’s just flicked a switch inside them. If you so much as think that might be about to happen you don’t hesitate, no matter what the girl says. Y’hear me?’

  I nod again.

  ‘Alright. Best be on your way then. I’ll see you on the road.’

  I have to step out of the way of the blast door as it inches its way across the concrete. When I turn around to look back into the tunnel he’s already gone.

  *

  DAWN’S LESS THAN an hour away as we leave the bunker. Outside it’s still bitterly cold. I can see Mags’ breath smoking with it; she hugs her arms to her sides and stamps her boots to warm up. The fury doesn’t seem to notice. It just stares at the blackened stumps poking through the ashen snow, like they’re the most wondrous things it’s ever seen.

  My feet got a break from the snowshoes while we were inside but as soon as I snap them back on I can feel the bindings pressing into the cuts I have there. Right now I’m more worried about the muscles in my legs however. They were tiring badly on the way up here; I wonder how far I’ll be able to make it. But as I look over at the fury I realize that’s going to be the least of our problems.

  Marv wasn’t ever big on actual explanations for stuff; I picked up pretty much everything I needed just from watching him. Even so, it didn’t take me long to work out snowshoes. There’s really not a lot to it. You have to raise your legs a little higher than usual, because the powder gives. And the shoes are bigger than your regular boots so you need to widen your stride to keep from tripping over yourself. But that’s pretty much it. When we fled Eden Mags and the other Juvies had it figured out within a couple of hundred yards.

  That’s not how it’ll be with the fury, though. As I watch it taking its first tentative steps I begin to realize the trouble we’re in. The recent storm’s brought fresh snow, but even without it the drifts up here’d be too deep for its short legs. And to make matters worse the snowshoes are too big; every time it lifts one of them it almost can’t help but bring it down on the other. Neither of those things are the real problem, however. It’s just like Hicks said; whatever time it’s spent in the cage is preventing it from standing upright, and if it can’t do that it’ll never keep its balance in snow like this. We haven’t cleared the entrance and already it’s got itself stuck in a drift.

  While Mags pulls it out I take the handsaw from my pack and trudge up the hill. My recently thawed fingers are still clumsy and I struggle with the blade but I return a few minutes later with a couple of the straightest looking branches I can find. I hand them to Mags and she shows it how to plant the makeshift poles. When it looks like it’s got the hang of it we set off through the trees, following the path Hicks and I took coming up.

  It takes us a long time to make it back to the road. I stand in the middle of the trail and watch as Mags and the fury catch up. I think it’s getting better but we’re going far too slowly. I’m starting to get a very bad feeling about this. There’s nothing for it now but to press on, however.

  We pick up route 60 and head east. I’m pretty sure we can’t be seen from up in the house but nevertheless the flashlight stays in my pocket. I keep to the tracks Hicks and I made on the way here; the already compacted snow makes the going easier. But once we reach the church there’s no choice but to start breaking trail. My snowshoes sink into the deeper powder. With each step now I can feel the bindings digging into the cuts across my feet.

  We continue on, stopping regularly to dig the fury out of the drifts. It seems to take forever but eventually I see The Greenbrier’s crumbling gates up ahead. We cross the road. The station house stares back at us from behind its candy cane pillars. We make our way past it and down onto the railway line.

  We haven’t gone far before the sides close up around us, and with nowhere to go the snow deepens again. Our pace slows. By the time we reach the siding where the corroded railcar rests against the buffers the sky’s already getting brighter. It’s still barely light at all yet whenever I turn around now I catch the fury trying to raise its arms to shield its eyes. Every time it tries it loses its balance and pitches over and we have to stop and haul it upright.

  The I-64 overpass appears around a bend. Beyond I can just see the crown of the tunnel as the track continues on through the hill. We’ve been traveling an ho
ur and I doubt we’ve covered a mile. I can already feel the muscles in my legs burning, and inside my boots my feet are killing me. Even Mags seems to be struggling. When she hauls the fury out of a drift I see her favoring her side and in the heavier drifts she falls back, like drawing breath is causing her pain.

  The first of the day’s light slowly seeps over the top of the shallow ravine as somewhere behind the gray clouds the sun finally rises. I walk us under the overpass. The fury collapses in the snow, relieved to be back in darkness. I ask Mags for the roll of duct tape Hicks gave her to bind it, back in the bunker. She hesitates a moment, like she’s not sure what I’m planning, but then she digs it out and tosses it over. I pull off my gloves. My fingers protest immediately at the cold. I work as quickly as I can but they’re still numb from their recent freezing and thawing and it takes me longer than it should to tear several short strips from the roll and stick them to my sleeve of my parka.

  The fury watches me closely. When I have enough tape I step closer and tell it to hold its head up. It looks at me uncertainly and then at Mags. She’s already figured out what I’m doing; she says it’ll be okay. It hesitates a moment and then tilts its face up to me. I pull a piece of tape from my sleeve, trying to ignore the silver eyes that stare back at me through the small goggles. I work as quickly as I can, masking the lens so that only the narrowest slit remains through which light can enter. As I’m stretching the last piece into place the surgical mask Mags gave it slips down. Its skin is the color of the ashen snow, but the tape that Hicks insisted Mags place over its mouth in the bunker is missing. She must have removed it before we set off.

  I yank my hand back like I’ve just burned it, but it just continues to stare back at me through the slit in its goggles. I glance over at Mags, hoping she hasn’t noticed. I fumble my fingers back into the mittens, trying to pretend nothing was wrong.