The Dark Above

by Jeremy Finley

  “Agent, get a doctor in here—”

  “That’s all I’m saying as long as he’s in this room. As long as I’m in this building and anywhere near these bastards,” Steven said, his breath raspy.

  “We’ve tried to help him,” Flynn said.

  “Please just talk to me, and I’ll get you out of here. You clearly need medical attention. And we are running swiftly out of time.”

  “Excuse me, Senator. I need to step out,” Flynn said, looking angrily at his phone.

  She turned back to Steven. “Sir, please—”

  “I won’t. I won’t talk here. They’re listening to everything I say. I won’t betray what I know.” He raised his hand to pat at his chest.

  “Trust me, I am understanding more every minute that no one in this building can be trusted. But my nephew is here. They won’t let me see him, and I have to understand what you know about him, the girl, and the other woman you were with.”

  “Aren’t you the one who didn’t believe? Wouldn’t support your mother?” He squinted one eye.

  Kate swallowed. “I’ve made some real mistakes. But all I want now is to get William and the others somewhere safe. Where we can figure out what to do. I saw Will for just a moment, he told me I needed to find out about Blue. Do you know what that means?”

  “I’m sorry, I won’t talk here. I won’t.”

  “Agent!” Kate said, standing up. “Agent Hallow! I’m taking this man out of here now—”

  The door opened and Flynn stepped in, his face furious. “No one is going anywhere.”

  “This man is gravely ill—”

  “There’s a protest outside. Led by your mother.”

  “What?” Steven asked weakly.

  “I’m sorry?” Kate demanded. “What did you say?”

  “It doesn’t matter now, anyway,” Flynn scowled. “They found her. They’re bringing her in now.”

  SIXTEEN

  “Why is this elevator going so far down?”

  The congressman turned to Quincy, who was intently watching the display descend to an alarming number: 15, 16, 17 …

  “You think the director of this agency keeps an office nineteen, no, twenty floors below a damn warehouse? We were supposed to wait for an escort to take us, that’s why the secretary buzzed us in. How could you possibly know what floor that the director’s office is on?”

  “We aren’t going to the director’s office, Congressman.”

  “Then why did I have to swipe my security badge just to get this thing to go down? In my experience, that type of access is only necessary for military offices and weapons storage.”

  “Congressman, do me a favor from this point on,” Quincy said, fighting the urge to cover the politician’s mouth with both his hands. “Just accept the two million my PAC will spend on attack ads on your much-younger opponent and please just be quiet for a moment. You will see why we’re going this far down in a moment.”

  “While I certainly appreciate your support, I have a strong feeling I’m being played. This protest comes at just the same moment that you need to get into a secure government building? I thought all you wanted to know was about this SSA agency—”

  “Oh, I do. But trust me, as someone who’s a champion for the rights of Americans, you’re going to want to see what’s down here.”

  “The rights of Americans—”

  The elevator kept descending. The display read floors 31, 32 …

  Forty-two. Go to level forty-two, William’s aunt Stella had told him in that first bizarre phone call. He’d been stunned when he checked his voice mail and heard Stella’s urgent message to call her.

  He’d quickly returned the call. An hour later, he was on a chartered NetJet heading to Washington, leaving behind a seriously pissed-off board of directors that was waiting on an explanation for his disappearance. It had not been easy to slip away. But money talks, as it always did. His head of security—former head, he should say, as he was now on his way to the Caymans for a permanent vacation—was now rich enough to buy his own island if he wanted.

  38, 39.…

  Stella had explained that the location William’s grandmother had pinpointed on a map ended up being a government-owned building that her own records showed was owned by some obscure agency called the SSA.

  “Can you possibly get in if we create a distraction?” Stella had asked.

  “And how does your grandmother know this?” he’d replied.

  “Trust me, you wouldn’t believe it.”

  “Listen, sister, I’ve been on this crazy train for a while now. Did William say anything about a little girl?”

  40, 41 …

  One call to Congressman Flip Smith, and a promise to heavily fund a reelection effort, and here he was.

  He knew he needed to find William first. Make sure he was OK and ready to run. But Lily was down here too. And he didn’t want her to wait a half second more.

  42.

  As the doors opened to an empty hallway, the panel on the elevator began to rapidly blink red. The same flashing pattern was repeated outside the doors that lined the corridor.

  “Wait,” Quincy said. “No security?”

  “Why would there need to be security?” Flip asked.

  “Because there are civilians down here, locked away without being charged with a crime. And this agency doesn’t want anyone to know.”

  “Quincy, what the hell is going on—?”

  As soon as the congressman stepped out, a piercing alarm resounded. The doors to the elevator began to swiftly shut, and Quincy stumbled through.

  “Good God!” Flip said, covering up his ears.

  “Go!” Quincy said, ushering him down the hall to the first door.

  “You sure as hell never mentioned that you were told civilians were being kept down here!” Flip yelled. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Use your badge!” Quincy pointed as they arrived at the first door. The keypad flashed like an angry migraine, the sound hurting almost as much.

  The congressman fumbled with the card and pressed it against the light. It immediately switched to green, and the alarm ceased.

  “I bet we don’t have much time now,” Quincy said. “I bet we have company real soon. We should have swiped it at the elevator again. Some kind of final clearance system.”

  “Clearance to what? I am fed up at this point—”

  “I’m stepping inside. So you check your email, Flip. On the way down, I sent you a link to a Stella Roseworth’s website. She’s a journalist and the daughter of your old sparring partner, Senator Roseworth. She just posted a full report on this agency that includes some documentation of what they do. Looks like her dad did some digging before he died, based on what his wife discovered.”

  “His wife? You mean Lynn Roseworth? This isn’t this alien crap again, is it?” Flip shook his head. “Jesus, Quincy. Is this all because you got caught up with those alien-obsessed nut jobs that kidnapped Roseworth’s grandson?”

  “He’s not kidnapped. He’s here. With a little girl.”

  “Roseworth’s grandson is down here? Isn’t he supposed to be missing? And a little girl?”

  Yes. A little girl. The same one he wanted to ditch by the side of the road just a few days ago. A girl who clung to him in the back of a SUV after they narrowly escaped an explosion. A girl who held his hand while they ran through the blackness of an underground tunnel. A girl who slept on his shoulder while they drifted down a river in the dark, looking desperately for a place to find food and shelter. A girl who beamed with happiness after he bought her a cheap dress, and delighted in even worse pajamas, asking him to tuck her in. A girl he couldn’t stop thinking about as he was forced back to Los Angeles—the fear on her face as he was dragged out of the room.

  When he found out she was somewhere inside a government warehouse, he whispered it over and over, tapping his finger on the armrest of the chair on the plane.

  I’m coming. I’m coming. I’m coming.
>
  Quincy hurriedly opened the door and exhaled.

  Lily sat on a bed, surrounded by a trove of American Girl dolls that she had placed around her like a shield. As he stepped into the doorway, she practically plowed over them.

  He could feel her tears wet his shoulder after he swept her up.

  “You went away. Why did you do that?” she said, her voice muffled in his shirt.

  He found himself nuzzling his face on the top of her head. “I didn’t want to, kiddo. But I had to get away from the men who took me. One of them I had to pay a whole lot of money to sneak away.”

  She looked up at him. “I still have your dress on. They brought me new clothes but I didn’t care.”

  He smiled, his vision blurry.

  * * *

  The dreams were coming constantly, an insistent barrage, making sleep useless. William could feel its hunger for him.

  Hunger and rage, just as he experienced when he first sought out Jane during the dream, and again when he reached out in the vast, unexplored darkness that opened in his mind as he tried to find Nanna.

  Anger at his defiance. And it grew in intensity each time he found a way to block it.

  It took Jane to show him how.

  He hadn’t thought of it when he communicated with the others. When he’d finally found Nanna, he was exhausted, barely clawing through the dark to cry out to her. It was if he were yelling at her underwater, knowing she couldn’t understand his words. He’d extended his hand, feeling as if he were a rubber band about to snap. She’d stretched for him. With a single touch, a brush of their fingertips, the connection was so strong that he saw exactly where she was, and in turn, knew she could do the same. He could barely speak.

  “Quincy,” he’d said in that second. “Tell Quincy Martin. Level forty-two.”

  The band broke, and he spun back through the black and into the fluorescent light of the room. He was so tired, he’d closed his eyes, only to find the dream waiting.

  So he’d reached out to Lily, but she became so upset at his eventual departure that he worried he was doing more harm than good letting her know he was still there. Ryan, too, became agitated when he had to leave.

  Jane, however, gave him no choice. When he checked on her welfare, she made it clear that he was not allowed to break their communication until she said so. With a doctor’s precision, she’d begun to grill him on the dreams: what he was seeing, what it might mean when he saw the eyes of the other abducted, how he had broken through the dream to get to her, and what was at stake for all of them.

  They’d ended up talking for hours, exhausting every possibility, every option to escape the holding cells and the mental commands from the dreams to unleash the disasters waiting inside them all.

  You said it came for you almost hourly now? You’ve fought it off since we’ve been talking? she’d asked.

  He’d realized it then. No, actually. Not since then.

  She’d nodded, looking every bit the calculating doctor. Like a spinal cord epidural.

  What? he’d asked.

  We use them as a pain inhibitor. Perhaps when you open these channels to us, it blocks its ability to get to you. And, as a result, only you can control us. Well, best keep at it to keep it from getting to you. Plus, I need to vent.

  She was angry. Furious. She hated the idea of something having control of her. Hated that she was locked up inside a room.

  I survived medical school. Someone should only be in prison once in their lives, she’d said.

  He’d grinned. She’d smirked.

  Then she was back to business, asking more about when the dreams had come to him, and asking for details about the moments since the agents arrived at his trailer in Arkansas.

  He’d told her everything, wishing there were something—anything—humorous to mention, just to see her smile again. He was desperate for something to break the tension of the last days.

  When their meals had come, they’d broken the communication. After eating, he’d tried to read, worrying that there was no way Nanna could make sense of what he’d said.

  The dreams had reached him so suddenly, he stood up in alarm.

  The room was too small for any type of real exercise, but he knew from before that physical exhaustion often kept the dreams at bay. He did pushups until he couldn’t lift himself, but then lay on the floor, closing his eyes.

  The dream waited.

  Desperately, he’d stood. He’d reached out to her.

  Come on in, Jane replied.

  He could almost hear a hiss of anger as their communication blocked out everything.

  Tell me everything, he’d said.

  Everything?

  Talk to me until there’s nothing left to say. I’m so sorry that you’re caught up in this.

  She’d leaned forward. Now that I’ve touched you, I can sense where you are. You think your grandmother can too?

  It’s different for adults, I think. We have to touch first. It’s like it burns a connection into us, that’s the best way I can describe it. But Lily and that boy Ryan, who I told you is down here with us? They could do it before we ever make contact. He thinks it’s because they’re children, and they’re somehow tuned in more precisely than adults. Ryan says we’re right beside the Potomac River, beneath some warehouse. I hope my Nanna knows that.”

  “If she knows where you are, and we’re deep under the earth beneath some warehouse, how in the world will she ever get us out?”

  “I’m gambling that she—or probably my aunt, she’s a reporter—can get word to a friend. It’s a long shot, but he’s well connected. If he can get out of his own mess, he might be able to buy his way down here.”

  “Even if he gets in, how do we get out?”

  He’d just hung his head.

  She’d then remarked on how tired he looked, and suggested he try to sleep. He’d replied that sleep is when the dreams came.

  Then just stay with me. If it can’t reach you in these … communications of ours … then just sleep. We won’t have to talk.

  He’d laid down on the bed, watching as she closed her own eyes. He was asleep almost instantly.

  The unbolting of the door forced him awake and out of his bond to her. His grogginess suggested he had slept for a good amount of time.

  The door opened, and Lily’s small face peered around.

  His eyes widened as she rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

  “He came back,” Lily said softly.

  William reached out and firmly shook Quincy’s hand. “I can’t believe it.…”

  “We gotta get out of here.”

  “There are others, we need to get Jane—”

  “I’m here.”

  She stood out in the hallway, next to an older man in a suit, with an American flag pin on his lapel. “Imagine my surprise when Miss Lily was standing in my door, along with the rest of these gentlemen,” she said.

  “Jesus Christ,” the man in the suit said, looking at William. “It is you.”

  “Will, this is Congressman Flip Smith. I’m a longtime supporter of his. I told him I needed a tour of this agency that happened to be in a warehouse. Listen, we don’t have much time–”

  “Congressman, thank you. There’s another boy down here,” William said, walking into the hall. “We have to get him out. And Steven must be here somewhere. We have to get them both.”

  “There’s only two doors left at the end of the hall. Look. One reads ‘staircase’ above it,” Quincy said, pointing. “We didn’t get to that one.”

  “I actually need someone to explain to me right now why you people are all down here,” Flip said. “None of us are moving one more inch until I am told the whole damn story—”

  The ding of an elevator that shot down the hallway was obviously set at an incredibly high decibel to alert anyone standing in the nearby corridors.

  “Oh crap,” Quincy muttered.

  “I don’t know where Steven is. But Ryan is just down the
hall,” William said, turning around to run when the sound of rushing booted feet pounded towards them.

  A squadron of soldiers in black spilled out around the corner, the infrared lights on their long guns flashed as they blocked the hall.

  “Drop to the floor! Drop now!” one shouted. “Mr. Chance, we don’t want anyone to get hurt!”

  “Listen here!” Flip stepped forward. “I am Congressman Flip Smith, and you best lower those weapons! You get your damn general down here—”

  “Sir, drop to the floor! Hands on your head!”

  William immediately felt Lily stir, and he reached out to touch her shoulder.

  “Mr. Chance! I’m not warning you again—”

  “You know what we can do!” William barked. “Stand back! I don’t want to hurt any of you!”

  He could tell the soldiers had been warned.

  “What do you mean, what you can do?” Flip demanded.

  William knew Jane had come to stand directly behind him, remembering her question about Quincy finding them. If he can get in, how can we get out?

  He hadn’t answered her then.

  With a quick reach backwards, he found her wrist and held tight.

  SEVENTEEN

  From the first-floor windows, purposely made to appear dingy from the outside to conceal the agency within, Kate watched the protestors rush away in the sudden onslaught of rain.

  Her mother was not with them.

  She looked back to Steven, whose breathing had becoming disturbingly labored in the far corner of the room. He’d confided that he had advanced heart disease. Even with all the pain and resentment she’d felt for years about the man, it pained her to see this kind of suffering.

  “Hang on, Dr. Richards,” she said. “I demanded that they bring a doctor.”

  “Is she here?” he responded in a whisper.

  Once again, Kate glared at the door, furious that Hallow had locked it behind him. All of the threats she wanted to make were useless. It didn’t matter what elected position she held. All she was now was the daughter of the woman who had revealed an agency’s once clandestine location to the world—

  The door handle turned, and Flynn stepped in, quickly shutting it.