Contain (32 page)

I pack up the few meager objects I
cannot bear to leave behind. I know that, as soon as I am gone, the
scavengers will descend to pick through them. Let them.

Finally, I move the chair across the
room to the side that has been my space for the past three years.
It wobbles precariously and sags as I step onto it and gingerly
remove the flower drawing from the ceiling. This I fold in half
once, twice, thrice, then tuck into the pocket of my
shirt.

I leave the pages from the book with
all the security codes on the seat. I don't need them. I keep the
rest with me. Those people I leave behind will need the codes, if
they ever decide to go. After today, after what will transpire in
the next few hours, I wonder if anyone will want to
stay.

Maybe the Fujimuras. I have a feeling
they came here fully cognizant that Bunker Eight might be their
final resting place. What a monument it will be, a testament to
futility, denial, and lies.

A few more stops, a few more rooms to
visit. Another hour passes. Then I have a some time to kill before
dawn, so I return to Level Four and wait by the front door for the
sky to lighten, watching for the first telltales signs of color to
tinge the tiny black and white screen on the wall.

How strong our minds must be to
imagine something that isn't there. How resilient our will to
conjure up a false truth when there is absolutely no evidence of
it. Or even when there is proof to the contrary.

He's not the person you
think he is.

No, none of us is.

By the time I return upstairs, word
has spread that I've called a meeting. Several pairs of eyes turn
when I exit the stairwell, all of them filled with expectation and
puzzlement and not a small amount of anxiety. What am I up to, now
that I have been freed from the prison of my grief?

Bix meets me first, stepping quickly
over and grabbing my arm. “Everything's ready,” he tells me. “I'm
in. So's Dad.”

“
And the
others?”

“
Everyone you said to tell
except Bren. I tried, but I couldn't get to her. Her
parents . . . .”

I consider this for a moment. Then I
shrug. I'll just have to wait and see what happens, trust her to
act according to her heart and her sense of reason. Naturally, I
hope for one outcome in particular, but I know it's a long
shot.

“
There's something else,
Finn.” His eyes grow dark and his face is grim. “Missus
Resnick . . . .” He shakes his head.

It takes me a moment to parse the look
on his face, to understand its meaning. “How?” I ask.

“
She hung
herself.”

I suppose it doesn't surprise me. I
only hope it wasn't Bix who found her.

The door to the Abramson's quarters
opens, and Seth steps out. I see Bren and her mother behind him.
Their faces are closed at first, stoic, except for a flash of
sorrow in Bren's eyes. Emotions are vulnerabilities, and right now
few of us are comfortable showing them.

But then relief fills Mister
Abramson's eyes. “I'm so glad to see you up again, Finn.” He steps
over to me, reaching out with both arms, but he stops when I step
back. “Of course. I understand. You need time and
space.”

The hallway is filling up as the rest
of the group congregate around us. There are twenty-four of us
left, though not quite that many currently in attendance. I catch a
glimpse of the Fujimuras hanging near the back. The bodies push in
close enough to hear, closer than I would have felt comfortable
with in the past. But now . . . . Now, none of
it bothers me anymore.

“
Bix said you have an
announcement to make,” Mister Abramson says. He folds his hands
together in front of him and waits.

I swallow and nod. “First, I want to
say how grateful I am to everyone for all of your support. The past
couple of weeks have been hard on all of us— not that the past
three years has been especially easy. The terrible things we've
been forced to witness, no person should ever have to.” I shrug.
“Sometimes we just have to accept what is and move on.”

“
Move on? This sounds
suspiciously like a farewell speech,” Mister Abramson says, an
anxious smile curling one corner of his mouth. He looks around,
perhaps expecting a few relieved chuckles to break the otherwise
palpable tension that hangs over us. But nobody's laughing. He ends
his sweep by looking pointedly at my empty hands. I certainly don't
look like I'm leaving, and that's exactly my intention.

“
Leaving would be suicide,”
I say, echoing my own oft-repeated warning.

“
Yes. Exactly,
Finn.”

“
But so is
staying.”

He frowns.

I take a deep breath and try to calm
my nerves. Suddenly, I'm not so sure of this. I mean, I'm
committed, just not sure doing it like this was the best idea. But
then I remember Jonah's words to me this morning as he begged my
forgiveness, and I know it has to be done.

“
The people we've lost here
the past few days didn't have to die,” I start. My voice grows
stronger as I continue. “Doc Cavanaugh and Rory, my father, Jack
Resnick, Eddie. We can't let their losses be for nothing. We may be
the last individuals of our species. Even if we're not, every life
needs to have meaning. Every death should, too.”

I turn and step over to the elevator,
and I press the button. The doors open almost immediately. “I want
to show you something.”

I gesture for everyone to get on. It's
a big lift, and we can all fit inside comfortably. They all begin
to file in, each of them giving my face a good stare. But I keep my
feelings behind a mask.

Bren steps in after everyone else, her
mother fiercely gripping her hand. I press the button for Level
Ten.

“
The dungeon?” she says, a
flicker of fear in her eyes.

“
Nothing to be afraid of,”
I assure her.

The doors shut and the elevator
lurches a moment before descending. I watch as the light above my
head shifts from 3 to 4, then upward through the numbers as we
descend deeper into the dam. When the doors rattle wide again, a
humid waft of cold air envelops us, smelling musty and oily. The
rumble of the power plant travels to our ears, through our feet as
much as through the air.

There's too little space in the
hallway, certainly not enough to hold two dozen people, so I
quickly step over to the heavy steel door to the sump pump station,
key in the security access code, and open it. There's a broad
landing just inside, deep enough and wide enough to accommodate us
all.

When we're all in, I shut the door
behind me.

The group waits expectantly. Missus
Abramson's hand is a claw on Bren's shoulder, clutching it as if
she's afraid Bren might fly away if she were to let go. Right next
to them, Mister Abramson doesn't seem very concerned at all, just
curious.

I see Bix near the back, his arms
crossed over his chest as he blocks access to the catwalk. His
father leans languidly against the near wall and stares out into
the shadows to the far side.

I clear my throat, drawing
their attention. I'm as nervous as I remember being at my first
piano recital at age seven — my first
and
last — yet Mister Blakeley
is as calm as Harper was at his, despite everything I confessed to
him doing last night. Despite his knowing what I have planned for
now.

“
What's this about, Finn?”
Stephen Largent asks.

Little Mia is tucked beneath his arm,
while Sammy is with his mother. Both are straining to see over the
railing, their backs turned to me. I don't think they've been down
to this level since it was banned.

I suspect the Rollins boys have,
though. They look too comfortable, planted on their butts on the
railing at each of the far corners of the platform. They hook their
toes on the crossbars and lean back over the abyss in the manner
typical of teenagers. Fran Rollins slaps at Jacob, tells them both
to stop it and pay attention.

“
I want to talk about why
we're in here,” I say. “Why we're in this bunker.”

“
The Flense,” Dominic Green
says. “We're in here because the Wraiths are out there.”

I nod, shrug. “So how do we know when
the Wraiths are gone? Do we believe a stranger who suddenly shows
up on our doorstep?”

“
Maybe,” Dominic Green
says.

“
Do I need to remind
everyone that he never actually said there weren't any?” Susan
Miller counters. “He said he didn't see any, but that may be
because he came by boat on the river.”

Dozens of feet shift and I hear a lot
of murmuring, but no one offers any sort of challenge.

“
What if I told you I
believe him?” I ask.

“
You?” Seth asks. He looks
puzzled, and understandably so. Of all the people in the bunker,
I've been the most skeptical that outside is safe. “You have
proof?”

I shake my head. “Me personally?
No.”

“
You personally? What does
that mean?”

But I'm not ready to tell him about
Jonah's forays outside. Not quite yet. There is something else I
need to address first.

“
I suppose we could just
stay in here until the food runs out, ” I muse. “Or when the power
finally fails for good. But I suppose containment might fail before
then. It already has, hasn't it?”

“
Jonah was responsible for
the power fluctuations, Finn. What are you getting at?”

“
I know about that,” I say.
“I spoke with him last night. He admitted to messing with the
lights. Both he and his father. It was Jack's idea, all of it. He
wanted to push us toward leaving.”

“
Then good riddance to
them,” Julia Largent spits. “I never liked any of them.”

Several people nod, including many who
voted for Jack to take over being the leader from my dad. I push
the anger rising inside of me back down. Now is not the time to
revisit that. And they're not the only ones who made mistakes. We
all have.

“
Jack was afraid we'd
gotten too complacent inside here. He knew it would take something
big to shake us up, open our eyes and minds. For Dad to open those
doors. None of us is exactly happy about being here, not even me,
but who among us was willing to take the chance and be the first to
go outside?”

No one answers. They're all still
trying to figure out my change in attitude.

“
I'm not justifying what
they did. I think the way they went about it was wrong and stupid
and arrogant. But what was even stupider was not planning our
departure from this place sooner. And for that I blame my father.
Part of the blame is also mine. Everyone knows why.”

“
So, you've had a change of
heart? You always feared the Wraiths.”

“
Jack had proof they were
gone. And I'm not talking about the stranger saying so.”

“
Proof? There's no proof!”
Mister Abramson shakes his head and gives me a stern look. “Finn, I
don't think you're thinking straight. You're still in shock. We all
are. Just a few days ago you were begging your father not to open
the door to anyone, including this stranger you now seem inclined
to believe wholeheartedly.”

“
I don't believe the
stranger. I don't know what he wanted or what he knew. I don't know
why he left. I'm talking about what we knew before he even arrived.
Jack was so adamant about opening the doors because he knew the
Wraiths were gone.”

“
How could he possibly
know?”

“
Because I told him,” a
voice calls out from the opposite end of the chamber. Two dozen
heads turn in unison as Jonah steps out from behind the control
booth on the other end of the catwalk.

There's a gasp, and Mister Abramson
cries out in surprise and anger. “How did you get out of that room?
I locked the door! Who let you out? Who broke your
chains?”

He tries to push his way through to
the catwalk, but he barely makes it a couple steps before Bix's dad
is there, twisting his arm behind his back to stop him. “What the
hell are you doing, Harrison?” Seth cries. “Let go of
me!”

“
Let the young man speak,”
Mister Blakeley quietly says.

“
That boy is a murderer! He
confessed! We all heard him!”

“
No, he isn't,” Hannah
says, appearing beside Jonah from behind the control booth. “He
never killed anyone.”

“
Hannah!” Fran Rollins
shouts. “You're wrong, young lady. Get away from him. That man is
dangerous. He tried to kill your father!”

“
No!” I yell. “Neither
Jonah nor Jack cut the pipe. They had no reason to hurt Eddie, but
someone else did.”

“
Jonah
is
the killer,” Dominic Green says.
“He's violent! Why else would he be teaching people how to kill?
Why would he force me to learn?”

“
I never forced
anyone!”

“
Bren Abramson!” Dom says,
spinning around to address her. “You know. You were there,
too.”