Plot Line (8 page)

Ray set the lantern on a
wood packing crate near the center of the barn. On the side panels
of the crate were stenciled the words:
John
Deere
.

Devlin nodded. “What I am about to tell you
is classified. If you reveal or repeat any of this information, you
can be arrested and tried for treason. Is that clear?”

“Yes. We’ve had this discussion before.”

“So we have. So we have.” Devlin took a deep
breath. “Have you ever heard the old saying, ‘Truth is stranger
than fiction’?”

Ray nodded. He didn’t like the way this was
beginning.

“It’s true,” Devlin continued. “It’s more
true than even your fertile mind can imagine.”

The cavern was sixty-eight
degrees.
Its temperature never varied
except in rooms and labs with equipment that shed heat. Despite the
relative coolness, Colin was sweating profusely. The exertion of
sliding his feet along the iron waste pipe, and knowing armed
guards were nearby, made him perspire as if he had run a mile in
August. But there were other problems, problems in his head. He
could feel them. They were there, like stray cats scratching at the
door of a house. They wanted in—
all the
way in
.

“Yea . . . though . . . I walk . . . through
the shadow . . .” he whispered, his words oozing around the small
flash light he held in his mouth. He had a little farther to go. He
had to hold on, hold on to the straps that held the pipe, and hold
on to his sanity. If he could get to the elevator shaft, he could
make his way to the roof of the cab by squeezing between the metal
rails upon which the elevator rode. From there he would have access
to the emergency ladder that hung inside the shaft just to the side
of the cab’s path. It would take every ounce of strength he had,
but he could then climb the ladder to the surface, and make egress
through an escape panel. The escape panel was there for the same
reason the ladder was. The elevator was the only way out of the
subterranean base. If it were to fail or be sabotaged, then base
personnel would need another way out. Only those who worked in the
base and carried the necessary high-level clearance, knew of the
emergency exit. Colin was one such person.

His head hurt, his brain blazed. They
pressed, and pressed and pressed. Tears ran in rivulets down his
face. He bit on the metal flashlight case so hard he thought his
teeth would shatter. Pausing at one of the straps he had to step
around, Colin leaned forward and pressed his head into the thin,
flat metal until he could feel it dig into his skin.

“Yea, though I walk . . . Leave me alone!
Please, please, leave me alone.”

Colin sobbed.

Ray blinked rapidly,
as if by doing so he could make sense of what he
had just been told.

“I see you’re astonished,” Devlin said. He
hadn’t moved from his standing position since beginning the
account.

“I’m astonished,” Ray replied. He shook his
head. “I specialize in fiction. I’ve spent most of my life reading
it and writing it, but if I were to put on paper what you just told
me, no editor would publish it.”

“That’s not our goal. Just the opposite in
fact.”

“If I’ve heard you correctly, this Dr. Colin
Rind . . . Rend . . .”

“Rehnquist.”

“This Dr. Colin Rehnquist may have gone
crazy, fled the base and is planning to reveal a story about aliens
. . . extraterrestrials being held at some secret underground base.
Do I have it right?”

“Close. The aliens are
not
held
at the
base. They are there of their own freewill.”

Ray shook his head again. “You don’t need
me. Who would believe such a story? He’d end up in a mental
hospital in less than a week.”

“That’s not a chance we can take,” Devlin
said. “We must have plans in place for every contingency. We must
have a reasonable story to disseminate. The best possible outcome
is that Dr. Rehnquist is found and helped.”

“Helped?”

“That’s the correct word, Ray. We’re not
evil men. This is not television where the government is the bad
guy out to hurt the innocent citizen, quite the contrary. We do
what we do because we love our country and care about its
citizens.”

Ray was unmoved by the patriotic speech, but
he had signed on to do the very thing Devlin was asking: fabricate
a fiction so real it would be perceived as fact. “I need to know
everything this Rehnquist might say,” Ray said after a moment’s
silence.

“I’m limited in what I can tell you. I’ve
probably told you too much already, but I can’t see a way around
it.”

“I can’t do a good job without the facts. I
need to know as much as you can tell.”

“You’ve heard enough.”

Ray sighed and rubbed his weary eyes. “Where
do I work?” He glanced around the decrepit barn. “I certainly can’t
work here.”

Devlin smiled and reached into his pants
pocket removing a small, black plastic device. The object reminded
Ray of a keyless remote used to lock and unlock car doors. Devlin
pressed a button on the device. A soft sliding sound came from the
back wall of the barn. Light, dim and yellow, poured from a
vertical slit in the wall. The opening widened until it was large
enough to drive a truck through. The inside of the barn glowed with
the flood of illumination. Ray squinted reflexively and raised a
hand to shield his eyes.

A dark figure moved in the light cutting a
silhouette from the brilliance. Although Ray could see no detail,
he could see enough to know the man carried a weapon, what he
assumed to be an automatic rifle. Another dark figure joined the
man. It took a moment for Ray to realize it was Devlin. He had
moved into the opening.

“Coming?” Devlin asked innocently.

Against his intuition, Ray walked into the
light.

Eight

“As you were, Sergeant,” Devlin
said
to the soldier who stood in the newly
opened doorway. He and Ray walked through the opening in the wall.
“No need to frighten our guest.” The guard lowered his weapon. Ray
could see he was standing in what looked to be a small room with no
windows.

“Wear this.” Devlin handed Ray a plastic
badge. “The facility monitors your presence. Someone knows where
you are at all times. Remove the badge and it will be assumed
you’re up to no good. That’s not an assumption you want made. It’s
. . . unhealthy.”

Addressing the sentry, Devlin said, “May I?”
and held out his hand. The soldier removed a key from his pocket,
unlocked a drawer on the desk and removed a small handgun,
extending it grip first to Devlin. “Thank you.”

“You carry a gun in situations like this?”
Ray asked.

“I always carry a gun.” Devlin nodded at the
guard who removed a black remote key identical to the one Devlin
had used earlier. At the press of a button, doors at the back of
the room slid open in near silence revealing an ordinary looking
elevator.

Devlin led the way and Ray followed. Once
inside the elevator cab, Devlin said firmly, “Devlin Chambers,
floor eight with guest.”

A mechanical voice replied: “Devlin Chambers
with guest, floor eight, recognized.”

“State your first and last name,” Devlin
said to Ray, “and say ‘floor eight.’”

Ray complied. The elevator began to
descend.

Sweat poured from Colin’s
face,
dripping from the tip of his nose and
flooding his eyes with stinging salt. His brain burned as if
someone had stuck his head in a microwave. The arches of his feet
hurt from standing on the waste pipe, his legs cramped in tight
knots. His knees shook and threatened to give way. Colin inhaled
deeply commanding his mind to settle and his body to behave, but
they would not listen. With one hand holding onto a series of metal
conduits near his head, the tortured scientist clutched at his
hair.

“Go away,” he whispered. “Oh, please go
away. You don’t need me. You don’t want me.”

The burning in his brain continued.

“Must escape.” He willed his tremulous legs
to take another step. He was less than five meters from the
elevator shaft. Just six normal steps away, but his steps weren’t
normal. Every movement required that he ignore the blaze in his
brain and the pain in his muscles long enough to lift his foot. If
he could make it there, then he stood a chance. He doubted he would
have enough strength to climb the emergency ladder one floor, let
alone eight, but he had to try. The die was now cast; there would
be no turning back, no reversing the course he charted. If he could
get in the elevator shaft, he could find a place to rest. After a
few minutes of inactivity, he could start his ascent up the metal
ladder he knew was attached to the sidewall.

The guards would never think of looking for
him there. No one in their right mind would hide in an elevator
shaft. They would assume it was too dangerous. Most people think
the elevator cab fills the whole shaft like a piston fills a
cylinder, but Colin knew how wrong the assumption was. His father
had worked for one of the largest elevator manufactures in the
country, and Colin had worked summers for the firm, traveling with
repairmen to fix problems, replace parts, or perform simple
maintenance. There was plenty of room on two sides of the shaft.
Builders often ran conduit and pipes in the passage. Even with the
elevator operating a man could stand inside—if he were
knowledgeable and careful enough.

One step.
Pain
. Two steps.
Burning
. Three
steps.
Nausea
.

Colin pushed on, pausing between steps to
suck in dry cavern air. His jaw ached from holding the flashlight
with his teeth. More sweat trickled into his irritated eyes.

There was a sound, a familiar sound. Colin
froze. The elevator was descending. A moment of hope flickered in
the darkness of his despair. If he could get to the shaft after the
elevator had finished its descent, then maybe he could quietly step
on the roof of the cab. Once there he could wait until someone took
the elevator to the top. It might be hours before that happened,
maybe even a full day, but he could wait. He could gather his
strength, calm himself. It was too much to hope for, but it was the
best hope he had.

The fire in his brain raged.

Another uniformed guard,
thinner than the first but with broad shoulders
and thick arms, waited for Devlin when the elevator doors
separated.

“Sir, the general wants to see you at the
lab immediately,” the soldier said.

“Is there a problem?” Ray saw Devlin
tense.

“I wouldn’t know, sir. My orders are to
escort you to the lab.”

Devlin nodded at Ray. “Mr. Beeman is not
cleared for that area of the base.”

The sentry looked from one man to the other,
clearly in a quandary. If he followed his orders to the letter, he
would escort Devlin to the lab, but would leave Ray
unattended—something not acceptable in a secured base. After a
moment of thought, he removed a small radio from his belt and spoke
into it. A line ran from the radio to the guard’s ear. He touched
the earpiece as he listened. Then he spoke: “I’m to stay here with
Mr. Beeman. You’re to proceed immediately to the laboratory.”

Devlin nodded then said to Ray. “You stay
here. I won’t be long. When I get back, we can get to work.”

Ray watched as Devlin marched away.

Voices
. At
first, Colin thought they were in his head like the others, but
these were real, audible and played in his ears, not just in his
brain. It made sense. The elevator had just arrived. People would
be on the elevator. Of course there would be voices. Colin
chastised himself for his failing logic. Thinking was more
difficult. Unbidden images floated in his mind like the specters in
a haunted house. His breathing was more erratic, his body soaked
with salty perspiration. His palms were wet. His knees shook. His
feet cramped.

Things spun wildly.

“Hold on,” he told himself. “It will pass.
It will pass.” But it wasn’t passing. The vertigo intensified. He
slammed his eyes shut and commanded himself to calm. Nausea rose in
his throat. The tension, the fear, the physical exertion was taking
its toll. The real fault he knew was beyond the physical strain—it
was them! THEM!

“Not now,” he whispered around the
flashlight he held in his mouth. “I’m so close. Not when freedom is
within reach.”

Colin squeezed the support strap in his
right hand until he could no longer feel his fingers. The metal
gouged its way into his tender flesh.

His legs were shaking and his knees drained
of strength. Voices screamed in his head. Colors, dark and ugly,
splashed on his mind.

“No. No, please, no—”

Colin Rehnquist fell.

Ray heard the crash and saw the body
fall,
but it took a full moment for him to
process what he had just seen. A man dressed in a dirty white lab
coat, had just fallen through the suspended ceiling panels and
landed hard on the guard that had met them as they stepped from the
elevator.

Confusion paralyzed Ray.

The man in the lab coat had dropped like a
meteorite. He fell in a cascade of broken ceiling tiles that
littered the ground. Ray took a step back. Before him lay two men,
the guard on the floor, the other man on the guard. The sentry
groaned and tried to move, but the man on top was faster. The
soldier’s body had broken his fall. Scampering to his feet, the man
looked around in a panic, taking in the situation. He saw the
guard, and then he saw the guard’s gun. He went for it. A second
later, the man held the military issue 9mm pistol in a shaking
hand. He pointed its muzzle at Ray.