She hoped they would move on before high tide, and Prumble did not disappoint. After just three more of the raised doorways, he led them into a stairwell. There was a similar bulkhead door at the top of the first flight, and the big man opened it with extreme caution. When the seal made its little pop, he pushed the metal plate up just a centimeter and peered through, a band of light shining across his eyes. He waited for a few seconds, his gaze tracking something in the space above.
Sam felt a familiar surge of adrenaline. All extraneous thought melted away, leaving behind a pristine focus she loved.
Prumble raised the hatch and moved up, holding it as Skadz rushed up the steps. Sam went last and took the weight of the thick door so Prumble could resume the lead. He nodded to her, his eyes exhibiting the same focus she felt. She realized with sudden certainty that she’d underestimated him for years, either due to his size or his jovial nature. He was good at this. It was that damn cane he always hobbled around with. A myth, he’d said at Dee’s. Goddamned long con. Perhaps she’d known it since last night, but she’d been too shell-shocked to really comprehend.
Sam lowered the hatch until it made a soft clank, then gripped the wheeled handle but changed her mind. If they needed to exit in a hurry every second would count. Better to leave it open.
More stairs led up in flights that zigzagged back and forth, reminding her of similar spaces in Japan and then Hawaii. She’d left Jake’s body near the bottom of one there. The memory of his placid face, his distant, unblinking gaze ripped her from the state of adrenal euphoria she’d found moments before. Sam grasped the railing beside her and stopped for a few seconds, letting the image of her friend fade and the singular focus return. When she moved again Skadz was looking back at her, his unvoiced question clear. “You okay?”
She gave him a nod and waved him forward.
Despite his size Prumble took the steps silently. That was no small feat in Sam’s book. She had to keep her footfalls to the sides, knowing a step in the center would send a reverberating clang up and down the enclosed space. It was only the ever-present vibration of machinery in the building that kept her from moving at a snail’s pace.
They went up eight flights—four floors—before stopping at a more traditional door. Here Prumble transformed into his usual self. He stood up straight, turned the handle, and went through as if he owned the place.
Skadz glanced back at Sam, shrugged, and did the same. She followed, finding herself on a catwalk not unlike the one that ringed the hangar back at the airport. Only this one was much higher, overlooking the entire interior of the building.
Two huge machines dominated the floor below. She could feel the heat pouring off them even from this high above. Dozens—no, hundreds—of pipes fed into the behemoth devices, all but covering the actual floor of the massive room. She saw a few people moving about on narrow catwalks that rested atop the pipes in a grid, apparently inspecting the equipment below.
Prumble strode to a door at the middle of the catwalk, turned the handle, and moved silently inside. Again Skadz followed, tossing a single quizzical glance back at Sam before he entered. Sam shrugged at this and moved through the door, pulling it closed behind her with a soft click.
They were in an office. A big one, yet somehow not pretentious. There was a desk at one side, covered with a handful of slate terminals and a few old-fashioned clipboards. On the wall behind it, a map of the water processing plant was dotted with green, yellow, and red lights. Most were green.
On the other side of the space were three love seats, facing one another around a rectangular faux-wood coffee table. The layout reminded her of Grillo’s office in Nightcliff, only larger and without the sterile cleanliness.
A man and a woman were standing near the couches, clearly surprised at the intrusion and perhaps, Sam thought, caught in the middle of a lover’s tiff or marital argument. Given their apparent age, Sam decided it was the latter. The woman’s face had tracks of tears running in two parallel lines down her cheeks. Her eyes were raw and red.
Skadz stood at Prumble’s right shoulder. Sam dutifully came to his left, drawing herself to her full height, realizing suddenly that the three of them must look like thieves or a hit squad. She waited for something, anything to happen, but the pregnant pause only went on. Five seconds.
Ten.
“Do you know these people?” the woman asked out the side of her mouth. She’d balled her fists, Sam realized. Her eyes were squarely on Prumble.
“It’s okay, honey,” the man said. “They’re old friends.” Despite the words he still put his arm out protectively, urging her to move a step behind him. The woman did so reluctantly. Her hands remained clenched at her side.
“Arkin,” Prumble said. “Sorry to drop in like this.”
“Prumble,” the man replied. “It’s been a long time.”
Prumble took a casual step farther into the room. Sam kept her gaze on the woman. Her bloodshot eyes darted briefly to Arkin, then to the comm on the desk, then to the far corner of the room. Sam stole a glance in that direction and saw a small safe embedded in the wall.
Out of instinct Sam turned and locked the door. Then she took in the room again, looking for anything that could become a weapon. Two sturdy umbrellas in a bin by the desk, a cricket bat mounted on the wall. Nothing substantial, then. Next she glanced about for another exit and found nothing.
Not good.
“Prumble?” the woman asked. “He’s Prumble?”
“Not now, dear,” the man named Arkin said.
The big man bowed to her. “I see my reputation precedes me. Does she know about the last time I was here? When you had a hood thrown over my head and hauled me in here at Neil’s beckoning?”
Arkin cleared his throat. “She does, actually. There’s no secrets between us.” He hesitated, his stiff posture relaxing slightly. “Sorry about how that went down, by the way. It couldn’t have been avoided. Platz didn’t need to know about our little side arrangement.”
“Forget it. A lot has changed since then.”
“Yes,” Arkin said. “I thought … well, everyone thought … you were dead. Or locked up.”
Sam kept her eyes on the woman, saw her flinch as if jabbed at the mention of captivity. Their eyes suddenly met, and the woman’s expression changed. Suddenly she was evaluating Sam, as if trying to gauge her weak points.
“On the contrary,” Prumble said, “I’ve been busy.”
The woman raised her chin. “Why are you here? Sneaking around, interrupting—”
“We need your help.”
Arkin motioned his wife to silence with a curt wave. He took a deep breath and addressed the trio now, not just Prumble. “You can’t stay here. You shouldn’t even be here. I’m sorry, it’s just—”
Prumble waved him off. “That’s not what I meant. But we’ve interrupted you in the middle of something important, obviously. My apologies. Is there somewhere we can wait, at least, until you can talk?”
“We can’t help you.”
“Hear us out, at least.”
“I’m sorry, but I insist you leave. If they found you here—”
The woman cleared her throat. “Maybe they can help us, dear. Perhaps their presence is a sign, or gift.”
Arkin glanced at his wife now, studying her even as she studied the three intruders.
Suddenly Sam understood that appraising gaze. The woman hadn’t been assessing danger, but opportunity. The question was … “Help with what, exactly?”
“You first,” she replied.
Prumble took a small step farther into the room. “We need to get inside Nightcliff,” he said. “And, ideally, back out again. Quickly and quietly.”
The couple stared at each other as Prumble spoke, some silent conversation passing between them.
Prumble went on. “Grillo has something that doesn’t belong to him, and we intend to get it back.”
“Sweetheart,” the woman whispered to Arkin, her gaze locked on his. “They can help us. We must act.”
“June,” Arkin said, turning to her now. “June, my dear, we’d put all of our lives at risk. Hers most of all.”
“Mind telling us what you’re talking about?” Skadz said. “’Cause we’ve got a clock and that bitch is ticking.”
Sam shot her friend a look she hoped would produce an apology, or at least silence. Skadz just shrugged at her.
The woman, June, seemed unoffended. She turned abruptly from her husband and looked at the three of them in turn. “Our daughter is in Nightcliff. Our little girl.” Her lip began to quiver, fresh tears welling at the corners of her eyes. When she spoke again her voice was thick and full of forced strength. “Grillo has kept her there since the water strike. A willing member of his flock, he claims, but we know the truth. She’s a prisoner, plain and simple. A pawn, something to keep my husband in line and the water flowing.”
Arkin looked down at his feet.
June went on, oblivious. “And it’s working. We haven’t seen her in a year. She could be …” June’s voice cracked. She paused, gathering herself. “I hear terrible things. And she’s little more than a child.…”
A shiver ran up Samantha’s arms.
“I keep telling my husband we must act. Something bold. Sabotage the plant and threaten the others unless our little girl is returned.”
“To what end?” Arkin said. “Suppose we get her back? Then what? Do you think Grillo will just leave us alone? That he’ll let things go back to how they were? No. Impossible. We would be fugitives, and he owns this city now. Where could we hide that he couldn’t reach? It’s not like we can go anywhere else.”
“We’ve been over all this a thousand times,” June snapped, her voice growing in intensity. “I don’t care anymore. I’d rather risk that, or death, than let our child endure one more day with that monster!”
Sam opened her mouth to speak. Skadz beat her to it.
“We can help,” he said. “Right, guys?”
“Perhaps,” Prumble said.
“Not perhaps. We’ll help them. Simple as that.”
Arkin shook his head. “I won’t risk all of our lives just so we can hide in some hole in the ground.”
Skadz leaned to his side and whispered something into Prumble’s ear with a vehemence that matched what he’d said a moment before. The big man winced, then nodded. Skadz kept talking but his eyes, Sam realized, were on her. Looking, it seemed, for backup. Or at least for a shared conviction.
The memory of something he’d said to her months ago flashed into her mind. The girl he’d failed to save, whose name he’d forgotten along with the medicine he was supposed to find for her. Skadz had found his chance at some kind of redemption and latched on with both hands, and Sam found herself unable to argue. She’d been on the verge of offering to help before her friend had spoken, for the simple reason that she knew what Grillo was capable of, what he’d done to Kelly, and what he’d threatened to do. Threats he might well make good on, given the events that transpired the night before.
Prumble crossed the room. He gripped Arkin’s shoulder and eased him down to the couch. June sat, too.
“Suppose there was somewhere else to go,” Prumble said. “Somewhere safe. Not a hiding place, Arkin. I’m talking about a city. Far from here.”
“Impossible. There’s nothing outside the aura—”
June leaned forward, cutting her husband off. “What other city? You are sure that such a place exists?”
Prumble nodded. “We’re going there, once we have what we need from Nightcliff. And never coming back. Zane Platz is there. I assume you know him?”
“Very well,” Arkin admitted, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the younger Platz’s name.
“He’d be happy to have you there, I’m sure. They could use someone with your knowledge.”
June stilled her shaking hands. “Assuming we believe you, how do we get to this city? You have an aircraft?”
“We do,” Prumble said, “but it’s not big enough. There’s another way, though.”
Arkin and his wife stared expectantly at the big man.
“Have you ever been aboard a submarine?”
Chapter Sixteen
The Flatirons, Colorado
31.MAR.2285
The trail of bodies grew thicker.
It seemed that the farther, the deeper Pablo went, so too increased the number of subhumans who had tried and failed to make the journey. Initially Tania found the corpses at once depressing and terrifying. But as the true depth and complexity of the cave system revealed itself, and still the body count climbed, she found a strange grudging admiration for the creatures. To have come so far into this pitch-black world without equipment or, hell, the ability to think clearly, all for whatever single-minded purpose it was that drove their diseased minds.
The cave, which had grown quite warm, began to cool. Her suit, designed for use in space, kept the internal temperature strictly controlled but a display within her face mask summarized the conditions outside. The temp readout had blinked as it dipped below 10 degrees Celsius. Shortly thereafter she began to see visible puffs coming from Pablo every time he exhaled.
The tunnel began to straighten and level off, its walls here shiny with moisture.
“Hold on a second,” Tania said.
“Another sound?” Vanessa asked from behind.
“Getting some static, actually. Weird.” She scanned the readouts on her HUD and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Something in the rock, interfering with her systems? That made no sense, though. Perhaps the object they’d come for?
