Town at the Edge of Darkness

by Brett Battles

  The basement was reached via a rectangular opening, fifteen feet long by five wide, in the floor at the other end of the building. A protective handrail surrounded most of it, missing only at the entrance to a set of stairs at one end and to a simple platform elevator at the other end. Slater took the former.

  The only change to the original basement was the floor. Back in the Lindens’ day it had been dirt. Now it looked the same, but underneath was a steel-reinforced cement floor.

  To those not in the know, this was where the building appeared to end. To the few who knew better, the entrance to the lower level was behind a shelving unit that looked as if it were part of the wall.

  Slater pulled the hidden release handle, and the unit moved smoothly out of the way, revealing the elevator entrance. Another fingerprint scan opened the lift’s door, and soon he was traveling down.

  The secret basement looked nothing like a barn. It was wall-to-wall concrete that had been divided into three large rooms. The elevator let out in the central space referred to as the lobby. A desk protruded from the wall on the right, and was always manned by one of Slater’s personally trained guards.

  On duty today: Vander Keane. Like a good foot soldier, the kid was standing at attention in front of the elevator when the door opened.

  “Good afternoon, sir.”

  “Afternoon, Van. At ease.”

  Vander widened his stance and put his hands behind his back, army style, though he’d never been in the service.

  “Anything to report?”

  “Nothing more than the usual, sir. The new people wanting answers, the old ones quiet and mostly asleep.” They had an overlap of shipments at the moment. Seventeen bodies currently being stored there, nearly double the product they usually kept at one time. And more was due that night. But that’s what happened during the trials. Always had to make sure they had plenty of prey available, since inevitably some of the product would turn out to be defective.

  “I need to pick out five participants for the midnight trials. Any suggestions?”

  “There’s the Mex in tank sixteen who seems pretty spunky.”

  “The one from the first shipment?”

  “Yeah.”

  It was a good call, but the product was also a perfect fit for one of their Arab clients. Size and facial structure just the way the sheik—or whatever the hell he called himself—liked them.

  Slater grabbed a sheet of red stickers off the desk and headed into the holding room. When staff wasn’t present, they kept the room near dark, though the guard in the lobby was still able to monitor activity via a night-vision camera. As Slater stepped inside, he touched the wall switch, turning on the floodlights.

  The room held twenty-five of the Plexiglas moveable cells, or tanks, as Slater and his men called them. The eight empty ones were scattered among the seventeen containing product. Within the latter group, most were on their feet, shielding their eyes and blinking. A few others lay on their cots, sleeping or pretending to.

  Slater walked down the central aisle, glancing in each cell for a few seconds as he passed. He dismissed anyone still in bed. What he wanted were the ones who still had fight in them, the feisty and the defiant.

  He put a sticker on cell five, where a twentysomething mixed-breed woman was pressing herself against the wall and yelling at him. Hispanic and white, maybe. Who knows? An abomination nonetheless. He then tagged a black guy in his late thirties. A bit older than Slater usually liked for the trials, but the man looked like he was in decent enough shape to put in a good showing.

  Next, Slater came to the Mex in tank sixteen. The kid definitely had the right stuff for the trials, but if someone else fit the bill, there’d be no sense in throwing away the money the product would bring from the Arab.

  Slater skipped the Mex and tagged his neighbor, an ugly woman in her late twenties. She probably wouldn’t last long, but there had to be at least one easy trophy for the hunters who weren’t as good as they thought they were.

  The occupant of the final cell was lying down. Slater rapped his ring on the Plexi and smiled at the woman when she looked at him.

  “How you doing today, Miss Patterson?” He knew she couldn’t hear him, but it amused him to ask anyway.

  She stared for a moment, and then closed her eyes.

  He laughed, stuck a sticker on her cell, reached under the platform, and turned on the gas that would render her unconscious. The time had come to get rid of her.

  He looked back through the room. He’d placed stickers on four of the cells, but he needed five bodies. None of the others were up to snuff.

  Reluctantly, he tagged the Mex’s cell. It pained him to miss out on the extra cash, but the trials demanded a certain quality, and the last thing they needed was one of the participants going apeshit because of inferior product.

  Slater had his five.

  Ricky and Rosario descended just north of a rocky formation at the back of the rise, and worked their way to a section of the wire fence separating the properties. Unlike the fence at Slater’s ranch, there were no signs hanging from this one.

  It was also not electrified, so they climbed over at a post, and took a circuitous route through the woods to a hidden spot within spitting distance of the pond. Ricky surveyed the barn area through the binoculars. Still no movement.

  “Wait for my signal,” he whispered, then sprinted across the open space between the trees and the side of the barn at the opposite end from where the truck was parked. When it was clear he hadn’t been noticed, he waved for Rosario to join him. They moved down the building toward the pickup.

  He peeked around the corner, using a goose-neck camera attached to his phone. The pickup was parked near a door at the center of the wall. The door was closed, and no one was about. He put his ear against the building but couldn’t hear anything.

  He held his hand out to Rosario, whispered, “Trackers.”

  “I will do it.”

  “This was my find. I should do it.”

  She grimaced, but retrieved the trackers from her pocket and shoved them into his hand.

  “Thanks. Be right back.”

  Staying in a crouch, he sneaked over to the front end of the truck and placed a tracker on the underside of the fender, high on the right. Keeping the truck between him and the barn, he moved to the rear of the vehicle and affixed a second bug inside the wheel well.

  Job completed, all he needed to do now was get back to Rosario and they could get out of there. But he was painfully aware how close he was to the box in the truck bed. He really wanted to see what it was.

  Screw it. It would take only a second to check, and he would hate himself if he passed up on the opportunity.

  Slater reentered the lobby.

  “I tagged the cells I want,” he told Van. “Move them to the prep room. I’ll send the boys over later to pick them up.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Slater.”

  “I’ll take one with me now so I’ll need your help.” The van could transport only four at a time. No sense in making two trips when he was already here.

  “Of course.”

  “I just gassed her so grab some masks.”

  Van pulled a couple of high-end, air-filtration masks out of the desk and followed Slater back into the holding room. At Patterson’s cell, they donned the masks and removed the Plexiglas box.

  Slater checked the woman’s vitals. Her pulse was nice and strong, her breathing steady.

  “We’re good. Get the cart.”

  Van had retrieved the mobile metal table from the other room, and on the count of three, they hoisted Patterson onto it.

  “Who’s on after you tonight?” Slater asked as they rode up in the elevator.

  “Colton, sir.”

  Colton was relatively new, and still in need of discipline. “Leave the tanks for him to clean. It’ll be good practice.”

  Van tried to suppress a grin. “Yes, sir.”

  The elevator stopped, and the door to the uppe
r basement level opened.

  Ricky rose slowly, ready to duck back down at the first sign of movement.

  When he cleared the top of the bed, he grabbed a handful of tarp and pulled—but the canvas didn’t cooperate. The damn thing was fastened to the floor of the bed.

  He moved around to the tailgate and checked the tarp again. It was fastened there, too, except unlike the clips holding it at the side, here the connectors were easy-to-release snaps. Ricky unhooked three of them and lifted the tarp.

  The rectangular box underneath was made of metal, and appeared to be bolted to the bed. But for a few holes drilled here and there, the sides of the box were solid. The door at his end could only be opened when the tailgate was lowered. It was also held in place by a latch and padlock. It kind of reminded Ricky of those animal shows he’d watched as a kid, where lions and other fierce creatures would be transported in cages in the backs of vehicles.

  He lowered the tarp, and had two snaps reconnected when the barn door rattled.

  Leaving the third undone, he made a beeline for the closest side of the barn, which was opposite the one Rosario was on, and reached it just as the door opened. He continued to the back corner and ducked around it. Rosario was already there, waiting for him. He pressed against the barn and grinned.

  “That was close,” he whispered.

  “Too close,” she replied, not nearly as happy.

  “We needed to know what was in the back.”

  “So, what was it?”

  “A box.”

  “We already knew it was a box.”

  “A metal box, with breathing holes and a big lock.”

  A loud rattling from the other end of the barn. Ricky touched a finger to his lips, reattached the goose-neck cam, and stuck it around the corner.

  Slater and Van rolled the cart out of the barn and over to the rear of the pickup.

  Slater helped Van undo the straps holding the cargo in place, then reached into the truck’s bed and unhooked the snaps holding the tarp down. One of them had come undone. That happened on occasion, especially on the dirt road to the lodge, so Slater thought nothing of it. He piled the tarp on top of the box, lowered the tailgate, unlocked the padlock, and opened the transportation crate.

  The steel tray mounted inside the box pulled out smoothly, and clicked to a stop when it reached the end of its track. Slater and Van unstrapped Patterson and maneuvered her onto the tray.

  “You have any problem with the others, you let me know right away,” Slater said.

  “Yes, sir. I will.”

  Slater shoved the tray back into the box until it locked in place, then closed the door and engaged the padlock.

  After he reached in and snapped the tarp down, he said, “Need help with the cart?”

  “No, sir. I’ve got it.”

  Slater gave Van a nod, climbed into the cab, and started the engine.

  The moment Ricky saw the body, he knew they needed to get a look inside the barn. He hurried over and turned down the side of the barn they’d originally approached the pickup from.

  Rosario caught up to him and whispered, “Where are you going?”

  “No time. Hurry, hurry.”

  When they reached the front corner, Ricky used the goose neck to peek around the side. Slater and his companion were removing straps that held the body to the cart, their backs to him. And, as he’d hoped, the barn door was open.

  He slipped around the corner and crept to the door, moving inside as the last strap was removed.

  Rosario followed closely, and whispered as soon as they were inside, “What the hell?”

  “Don’t you want to get a look around? I mean, you just saw what they wheeled out of here, didn’t you?”

  She grimaced, but before she could say anything, they heard Slater’s voice. “Need help with the cart?”

  “No, sir. I’ve got it.”

  The rattle of the cart’s wheels started up again.

  Ricky and Rosario moved deeper into the barn and ducked into a stall, hiding behind a stack of seed bags.

  Outside, the pickup roared to life and drove away. A moment later, the cart rolled inside and the door shut. The clattering wheels continued down the center of the barn, passing Ricky and Rosario’s stall, and moving all the way to the other end, where they finally stopped.

  A few footsteps, and then the whine of an electric motor and the creaking of cables.

  When the motor stopped, the cart rattled again, only the sound was distant now.

  Ricky eased out from behind the bags and moved to the end of the stall. Slater’s companion and the cart were nowhere to be seen.

  “Clear,” he whispered.

  He crept to where the motor sounds had come from. Cut into the floor was a wide rectangular gap, lined on two sides by a railing. On one of the open ends was a set of stairs to a basement level. On the other, an open space for a lift that was currently on the floor below.

  Ricky lowered the camera into the opening, and saw the young guy rolling the cart away from their end. Ricky glanced back to make sure Rosario was looking at the feed on his phone, too. She was.

  “We should go down,” he said.

  She hesitated, and then nodded.

  They crept down the stairs, their gazes affixed on the guy’s back. They were still a few steps shy of the bottom when the cart turned left.

  They froze, knowing they were in the man’s peripheral vision, but the cart rolled on and out of sight behind a set of shelves without any indication the guy had seen them. They completed their descent and moved to the aisle where the cart had turned.

  Hiding against the end of the shelves and using his camera, Ricky watched the guy roll the cart into an elevator. When the doors closed, the shelving unit along the wall began moving over the elevator entrance.

  Ricky sprinted down the aisle and jumped in the path of the closing shelves, bracing his hands against it to stop it.

  “Hurry,” he whispered.

  As Rosario rushed over, he created room between himself and the unit while still pushing on it.

  “Sneak through,” he said. “It looks like there’s enough space behind this thing for both of us.”

  She slipped under his arms into the gap. Ricky did the same and let the shelves close, plunging them into total darkness.

  “A hidden elevator?” he whispered. “Tell me this isn’t getting exciting.”

  The doors began to part. Ricky tensed, thinking the kid must have realized he was being followed and had come back. But it was Rosario pulling the doors apart. He lent her a hand, and they shoved the doors all the way open.

  Rosario turned on her flashlight and shined the beam down the shaft. The top of the car sat motionless about eight feet below.

  “We can climb down there,” Ricky said, pointing at a section of the metal structure lining the shaft.

  Rosario grabbed a support and went first. When he joined her on top of the car, she was kneeling next to the roof maintenance door, listening for sounds.

  “Empty, I think,” she whispered.

  Ricky pulled out his gun, aimed it at the door, and nodded for her to open it. She lifted the hatch, and swept her flashlight beam through the dark interior. Empty, as she had thought.

  Ricky lowered himself into the car, and helped Rosario down.

  “I’ll open the door a little,” he said. “You take a look.”

  He pulled at both sides until a half-inch gap opened between them. Rosario crouched and peeked through.

  “A little wider,” she whispered.

  He separated the doors another inch.

  “More.”

  “At some point he’s going to notice,” Ricky said.

  “I do not see anyone.”

  Ricky increased the gap another inch.

  Rosario checked again, and looked up at Ricky. “Unless he is standing right outside the elevator, he is not there.”

  Ricky opened the doors until there was enough room for them to squeeze through. No
one was waiting for them.

  They found themselves in a large room that stretched the width of the basement level above and at least a third of its length. In the right and left walls were wide double doors. Muffled sounds drifted through the ones to the left. Ricky and Rosario crept over and each placed an ear against the door.

  Ricky heard someone walking around and the occasional clang against a metal surface. He wanted to peek inside but that might be pushing things too far, so he suggested they check the other door.

  Faint machinery noises this time, but no steps or anything indicating someone was inside. He grabbed the handle and started to open one of the double doors, but Rosario grabbed his arm and whispered, “Wait.”

  She tapped on her phone for a few seconds before giving Ricky a you’re-an-idiot look. A few more clicks, then she said, “There was a camera. But it’s off now. Go ahead.”

  Ricky pushed the door, intending to create only a wide enough gap to peek through, but then they heard the door of the other room start to open.

  He and Rosario rushed inside, and he shut the door behind them. The room was dark, though not completely. Scattered throughout were what appeared to be several floor-level lights, each putting out illumination so low that it didn’t help Ricky and Rosario see anything. Ricky had come across similar lighting schemes throughout his career and knew their purpose. Apparently, the camera Rosario had detected had a night-vision setting, for which the dim glows provided the necessary light.

  Ricky turned on his flashlight so they could find someplace to hide, but what he saw made him momentarily forget all about their safety.

  The room was dominated by—if not quite filled with—giant transparent boxes. The exact same kind of boxes he, Ananke, and Liesel had discovered at Scolareon. Only these boxes had been flipped over and mounted on top of the exact same type of platforms they had also seen.

  He and Rosario took a few steps farther into the room.

  Every box contained a cot, and most were occupied. Fifteen boxes—no, sixteen—held people.

  “Holy shit,” he muttered. “I think we’ve found the mother lode.”

  Rosario pulled out her phone. “We need to tell Ananke about this.” When the screen lit up, she swore in Spanish. “No signal.”