Contain (22 page)

Then, in my mind, he's inside the
inner complex. He finds the metal staircase, starts to descend.
Over to the helipad. I'm imagining in three dimensions the route my
dad outlined on paper last night.

But five minutes quickly becomes ten,
and ten turns into twenty, yet the man still doesn't show up on the
other camera. Did he change his mind? I grow restless, start to
fidget.

Bix has to pee, and he asks Bren to go
with him. “Not a word outta you,” he warns me, when I open my mouth
to tease him, which is fine, because it wouldn't have been much of
a joke anyway.

They're gone less than five minutes,
and they make it back just in time to see a tiny figure appear at
the far end of the metal walkway. “Is it him?” Bren asks, squinting
at the low contrast image. For a moment, it's not clear that it is,
but the man's purposeful movements soon give him away.

He wastes little time making his way
to the door. He sprints across the catwalk and as soon as he gets
to the end, reaches for the door handle. Our last view of him comes
as he pulls the unlocked door open and enters the keeper station
four levels below us.

As soon as that happens, we hurry out
of the watch room and make our way over to the stairs.

I'm nervous, fearful. The feelings are
reflected in the faces of my two companions, so I know it's not
just me. For three years, we've survived in total isolation, away
from the rest of the world. Each day we woke with only one simple
objective, and that was to keep on surviving till the next. We've
been spoiled, not having to think about a single thing beyond
that.

But now our little bubble has been
breached, our safe little world unsealed.

The door to Level Three slams open
just as we tumble toward it, immediately stifling our agitated
chatter into silence.

Missus Abramson appears onto the
landing, a wild look on her face. “Bren!”

“
Mom?”

“
I've been looking
everywhere for you! Where have you been all this time? And don't
tell me you were in the kitchen, because I looked
there!”

She throws me and Bix accusing looks
as she grabs her daughter's arm. Bren tries to shake it off, but is
unsuccessful. “Mom, let go of me!”

“
No! You are coming with me
back to our quarters, young lady. And I suggest you boys do the
same.”

“
But we were—”

I jab Bix with my elbow.

Missus Abramson's eyes narrow
suspiciously. “You weren't thinking of— You were! I don't care what
everyone else is doing, Bren. It's too dangerous! Who knows what
that man might bring in?”

“
You know about the
stranger?” I ask, genuinely surprised.

“
Everyone knows! Seth told
me hours ago. He heard it from Danny, who heard it from Fran
Rollins, and she probably heard it from her sons. Those
boys—

She growls. “What was your father
thinking, Finn? Going behind everyone's back like that. Risking all
of our safety! Everyone needs to stay in their
quarters.”

“
But it wasn't his
idea.”

“
I don't want to hear it!
This should have been put to a vote.” She tugs on Bren. “I said
come with me.”

She drags her daughter back through
the stairwell door, leaving Bix and me to stand with our mouths
open. Missus Abramson's voice recedes from us as she continues to
abrade Bren for lying about where we've been. “Your father is
livid!”

Then the door to their quarters slams
shut.

“
Um, maybe I should go
check in with my dad,” Bix finally says. His face is red, like he's
just been slapped.

“
Yeah.”

“
He's probably
fine.”

“
Uh huh.”

“
Or maybe we could go
downstairs, you know, to see how Eddie's doing. I haven't checked
in with Gia in a while.”

“
I was just thinking the
same thing.”

So we head down, and on the way I
tease him about being on a first name basis with Doctor Cavanaugh.
“Didn't know you two were a thing.”

“
It's my general hotness.
She can't resist, she just doesn't realize it yet.”

“
Yet? So, does this mean
we'll be seeing little Gibis running around soon?”

“
Gibis?”

“
Yeah, you know,
like . . . . Never mind.”

He busts out laughing two full flights
later.

A clatter of voices greets us when we
step out onto Level Five, but it's clear they're coming from
Six.

“
So much for everyone
staying in their quarters,” Bix complains.

Our pretense no longer necessary, we
descend to the next level. It seems that more than half of the
bunker's population has already gathered there.

One voice booms above everyone else's:
Seth Abramson's. He's shouting, but whether it's at Jack and my dad
or the rest of the crowd isn't immediately clear.

“
Bren's mom was right about
her dad being angry,” I say, loud enough for Bix to hear over the
din. It's strange, because the man is usually so mild-mannered. “He
looks like he's ready to pop an artery.”

A head turns at the sound of my voice,
belonging to Jonah. It's strange to see him hanging near the back
of a crowd, instead of up close and in the middle of the action
with his father. Then I remember the way Jack brushed him off
earlier.

“
Oh, goody,” Jonah says,
sneering at the two of us. “Start the party, because Dumb and
Dumber have just arrived.”

“
And now our trio is
complete,” Bix snaps back.

Jonah isn't ignorant by any stretch of
the word. He's certainly not the dumbest of the three of us, as Bix
is implying. That would probably be me. So I have no doubt Jonah
immediately picks up on Bix's insult. But he just snorts and rolls
his eyes. “Come to see the circus?”

“
Only because we heard you
were the clown act. Glad to see you in your makeup.”

Jonah laughs and turns his back on us.
Bix gives me a puzzled look. All I can do is shake my head. This is
definitely not typical Jonah behavior.

There are too many people ahead of us
ogling and shouting and pushing that it's nearly impossible to see
anything clearly. I catch a quick glimpse of my father before he's
swallowed up behind the cluster of bodies, though I can hear him
begging everyone to be quiet, telling them he won't be able to hear
anything the man inside that booth is saying. “Go back to your
quarters,” he advises. “Give Mister Williams a chance to get some
food in his stomach.”

The crowd hushes, but no one leaves.
Neither Dad nor Jack tries to force the issue. Seth is still up
there telling people to go home, but it seems pretty clear it's not
going to happen.

I find myself pushing forward, too,
despite any fear that the stranger might be dangerous. I place my
hands on the shoulders of the person in front of me to steady
myself as I stand up on tiptoes.

Kari Mueller, the
former
Nat Geo
photographer turns and looks up at me. In the three years
we've been inside the bunker, her leathery skin has lightened
considerably, and the liver spots have faded. Even her wrinkles
have diminished.

I'd never really given much thought to
the changes to our bodies, but now I can't help and wonder if
they're because of the things inside of us, the things Dad calls
nano machines. I suppose Kari's appearance could be simply
attributed to the lack of sunlight, but I kind of doubt that
now.

So, what other defects have they fixed
among our group?

And who put them in us?

Most importantly, why?

But these thoughts vanish a moment
later when the man begins to speak. His voice is muffled by the
glass, but he talks slowly and loudly, enunciating his words so we
can all hear.

The crowd ahead of me shifts, and I
catch a glimpse of his face. It seems strange to see. For three
years I've seen no other human than the two and a half dozen now so
familiar to me. It's so jarring that it doesn't feel
real.

And it just emphasizes to me how much
he's not one of us.

“
My name, as you may
already have heard, is Micheal Williams.”

Everyone strains forward.

“
First off, I want to thank
you for your hospitality.” He chuckles dryly, but no one in the
hallway echoes it. “I understand your wariness. In fact, I suppose
I'd be worried if you weren't. After the ordeal I've endured these
past six weeks, it's actually a bit of a relief to be surrounded by
walls again. Can't say the same about this processed food-like
material, however.”

Still no one laughs.

“
I think before we get much
further,” Dad says, “there's a question we're all wondering: Are
there still infected out there?”

Mister Williams's forehead crinkles.
He looks around at the people before him. “I'll be honest with
you,” he says. “I don't know.”

“
What do you mean you don't
know?” Jack snaps. He steps over, blocking my view. “Did you, or
did you not, see any Wraiths?”

“
Interesting name for them.
We call them Reapers. And, no, I haven't seen any in the six weeks
I've been looking for you.”

“
What have I been telling
you?” Jonah shouts. “If that's not proof enough that they're gone,
what is?”

“
I didn't say they're
gone,” Mister Williams says, straining to find Jonah among us
before giving up. “You have to understand, I specifically chose a
route to get here that I hoped would minimize my chances of coming
into contact with them.”

“
And how was
that?”

“
By river. I came by boat—
a hundred and eighty miles, by my best guesstimate. I got
sidetracked down a couple different tributaries, lost some time. I
wasn't exactly sure which one the dam was on.”

“
What's a hundred and
eighty miles upriver from us?” Dad asks.

“
Bunker Two. It was an old
molybdenum mine. The site was powered by a deep shaft
thermoelectric generator. We had eighty-seven people.”

“
Had? What happened with
the rest? Are they still there? Why did you leave?”

“
One question at a time,”
Dad pleads.

“
They
were . . . .” Mister Williams shakes his head.
“We had a breach in containment. It happened very suddenly, and it
led to a complete collapse of the entire bunker's security systems.
I was lucky enough to get out alive.
Most . . . . Well, I don't think anyone else
did.”

A ripple of unease passes through the
group. Jack shouts again at everyone to keep quiet. Seth pulls my
father aside and whispers into his ear. Dad listens for a moment,
then nods.

“
Why have you come?” Fran
Rollins asks. “You didn't sound like you wanted in yesterday. So
why are you here?”

“
Because I can’t do this
alone.”

“
Do what?”

“
Find Bunker
Twelve.”

There's a murmur of voices before Chip
Darby yells out. “There's no Bunker Twelve. There are only
ten.”

“
That's what we thought,
too. But then some information about the people behind the outbreak
came to light. It suggested that the cause — and possibly the
cure — might be found in a mythical twelfth bunker. We were
just starting to look into it when the breach occurred.”

“
And where is this bunker?”
Seth asks.

“
I don't know. That's why
I'm here. I was hoping you might know. And
also . . . to warn you.”

“
About what?”

Silence fills the air, presses down on
us, as we wait for him to answer.

The stranger turns to look outside the
window for a moment— not inward at us, but outside the dam, as if
he's searching for something, waiting. When he turns back, instead
of responding, he asks if everyone who entered the bunker three
years ago is still alive.

Bren's dad leans over and consults for
a moment with my father. He looks troubled, but Dad shrugs and
shakes his head.

“
One of our two buses never
made it from the evacuation center,” Dad says. “And our
driver — our first leader — took ill soon after we sealed
the doors. He died a couple weeks later.”

But Mister Williams shakes his head.
“Nothing more recent?”

“
We had an incident about a
week or so ago,” Jack says. “One of our men was severely burned in
a boiler room accident. What does this have to do with
anything?”

“
How badly?”

The three men exchange puzzled
glances.

“
How seriously was he
injured?”

“
Explain how this is
relevant,” Dad counters.

“
It was serious, wasn't it?
The injuries were serious?”

“
Why don't we let Doctor
Cavanaugh answer that,” Mister Abramson suggests. “She can speak
more authoritatively on the subject. Where is she?”