MELT: A Psychological Thriller (37 page)

‘The last artifacts we found were the horseshoe, the instructions for making paper, and the block and tackle. I heard Victoria say the block and tackle was invented around 350 AD. She said the horseshoe was later. Maybe around 450 AD, right?’

Megan nodded.

Chrissie pointed down. ‘The intervals in the timeline have been growing shorter because humans were inventing things faster, but now the timeline jumps 600 years from the horseshoe to the hourglass?'

'Looks that way,' replied Alex.

'Shut up, Alex. I was asking Megan.'

Megan nodded. 'It seems to.'

They're hiding artifacts,
thought Chrissie.
What else are they hiding?

Chrissie pointed to a length of heavy black chain.

'What's that?'

'I think they're slave chains,' answered Megan. 'Maybe the kind for transporting slaves from Africa to America in tall ships.'

Are they wrist or ankle chains?
wondered Chrissie.
They certainly look uncomfortable.

Alex spoke up. 'Everything is about ships and sailing now.'

'Seafaring expanded around this time,’ explained Megan. ‘Countries began exploring and trading. The inventions followed.'

Chrissie kicked the chain. ‘How old are these?’

'Slavers were transporting Africans around the 1400s, I think.’

Chrissie knelt over the chain. She studied the cuffs at either end. One cuff looked different. She wriggled a protruding piece of metal.

'I wouldn't touch that,' warned Alex. 'What if it's trapped?'

'We just established it's not,' said Chrissie.

The piece of metal wanted to come free.

'Please, Chrissie,' implored Megan. 'Just leave—’

SNAP!

The cuff popped open.

Chrissie looked in her hand.

A key.

She looked up. 'Did you know this was the key?'

Alex shook his head.

Liar
, thought Chrissie.

She tried the other cuff. She turned the key five times before the cuff snapped open. Chrissie studied the key closely.
It's more like a special screwdriver than a key.

'You didn't turn the key around five times,' Chrissie told them. 'That's why you couldn't hide it from me in time.'

Neither Megan nor Alex commented.

Chrissie pocketed the key and stood up.

‘Okay, Megan. Now bring me the stuff you’ve hidden.’

 

 

#

 

 

‘I haven’t hidden anything,' said Megan.

Chrissie shook her head. ‘There’s a gigantic gap in your timeline.’

‘We didn’t find anything else,’ said Alex.

Chrissie's stomach groaned loudly. 'Was it food, Megan?'

'This is all—’

'Shut up, Alex,' spat Chrissie.

She glared at Megan. 'Was it food, Megan?
'

Megan kept perfectly still, as though Chrissie were an animal she shouldn't startle. 'I didn't find anything else.’

'Yes, you did,' said Chrissie. 'You found it. You opened it. And now you're hiding it.'

Which means there's food inside,
thought Chrissie.
And I'm too damn hungry to play hide and seek.

Chrissie waved the pistol. 'Sit on the calendar. Both of you. If you move, I'll shoot. Understand?'

They nodded.

Lying little bitch. Where did she hide it? Where does she think I won't look?

Chrissie approached the corpses.

She nearly gagged.

The bodies lay slumped over each other like a mass grave from a war film.

Chrissie knelt.

Victoria lay with one eye open and one shut, giving a dead woman's wink.

The wink of a corpse with a secret.

The open eye reminded Chrissie of dead fish at the market. All dry and cloudy.

She touched Victoria's eye.

Feels the same as a dead fish. Dry and rubbery. Show me your secret, Victoria.

She patted Victoria down.

Of course.

Her hand stopped on Victoria's apron pocket.

Thank you, Victoria. There are no secrets in this place.

She pulled the box from the apron.

It feels full.

A blob of red wax sealed the box.
They haven't even opened it!

She rubbed the surface.

It’s made of tortoise shell.

Japanese traditional sweets
made from rice and palm sugar were often presented in tortoise shell boxes.

She sniffed.

No smell.

The wax seal had a stamped impression.

That looks Japanese to me.

Chrissie's stomach released a roar of appreciation.

'It's a trap,' said Megan when Chrissie returned.

'You’re a liar,' said Chrissie. ‘I can’t trust anything you say.’

'I'm trying to protect us all, Chrissie.'

‘That’s what Victoria said just before she tried to murder us all.’

'If she was alive, she’d know if it was safe,' said Alex.

'We don’t need Victoria,' said Chrissie. 'Victoria needed a bullet.'

Megan shook her head and asked, 'Have you even seen a box like that before?'

'I have, actually. In Japan. These boxes hold sweet rice desserts. Maybe I'm not as stupid as you think.'

Megan looked surprised.

Alex looked unconvinced.

Chrissie handed Alex the box. 'Feel it. It's full.'

Alex tested the weight. 'It could be full of flesh-eating bacteria.'

Chrissie lifted the pistol and took several steps backward. 'Then be a gentleman and open it for us.'

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

Chrissie aimed at Megan. 'Open the box right now or I’ll open Megan's chest.'

Chrissie began counting down.

'Three.'

'Two.'

‘One.’

'Okay!' yelled Alex. 'For Christ's sake, okay!'

Chrissie kept the pistol aimed at Megan's heart.

Alex broke the wax seal with his thumb. 'Get back.'

Chrissie was already way back.

Megan only backed up a few steps.

Alex faced the wall. At arm's length, he opened the box away from himself.

Chrissie never saw him finish.

The box bucked.

A powerful jet of liquid streaked out and hit the wall.

'Close it,' yelled Chrissie.

'Drop it,' cried Megan.

Alex did neither.

If he dropped it, they might all be sprayed.

Instead, he held the box tightly, directing the yellow jet of liquid straight up the wall.

The trap spent itself in seconds.

'Run,' cried Alex, throwing down the box.

Chrissie saw why.

The liquid was splashing back off the wall.

Like a garden sprinkler spraying over children in the summer, the liquid rained down over Alex and Megan.

Chapter Twenty-six

 

Megan shrieked and spun away.

Alex covered his face and raced to beat the falling spray.

Neither moved fast enough.

The liquid didn't reach Chrissie, but landed close enough.

It’s acid.

It's raining concentrated acid.

A long splash hit Megan's head. Alex was dashing toward her, probably trying to shield her.

'It's acid!' he yelled.

'My hair,' shrieked Megan. 'It's in my hair!'

A huge chunk of Megan's hair dropped away as the acid sought the flesh beneath.

Chrissie could do nothing but watch.

Behind Megan, smoke rose from the steel wall. God only knew how quickly the acid ate human flesh.

Alex tore off his shirt and ran straight past
Megan.

He picked something up.

Whatever it was, he threw it at Megan's head.

Megan's head disappeared in an explosion of gray powder.

Cement dust
, realized Chrissie.
What will that do?

Alex rammed his hand into the bag. This time he threw accurately. All the powder hit Megan's hair. He grabbed a third handful and scrubbed her scalp like an angry mother washing a naughty child's hair.

'Take your shirt off!' he yelled.

Chrissie finally understood.
Cement powder neutralizes the acid somehow.

Coughing intensely, wrenching her shirt off, Megan frantically slapped handfuls of powder to her head and shoulders.

Alex coated himself with powder.

Chrissie spotted dozens of small craters eating into his flesh.

'Megan, my back. Quickly!'

'It's burning my arm!' cried Megan.

'Use more powder,' yelled Alex. 'Rub it in hard. Hard!'

Megan scrubbed more powder into her arm. Without stopping, using both hands, she scooped out a big pile.

'Hurry,' cried Alex, bending over. 'My back!’

Pinky-white spots dotted Alex's back.

One acid crater looked as wide as a large coin.

Chrissie winced.

Megan unloaded the powder on his back like a human dump truck. Alex disappeared. Chrissie could barely see Megan's hands working lightning-fast to spread the powder.

The cloud of two-thousand-year-old cement dust totally engulfed them.

Chrissie stepped back, remembering the billowing dust clouds during 9/11. This resembled the terrifying scenes she'd seen on television when dust from the collapsing World Trade Towers devoured the surrounding streets.

Even the coughing sounded the same.

‘Shit, what’s that? Ouch! Fuck! It’s burning me!’

Searing p
ain slammed Chrissie's sensors.

BANG!

She accidentally fired the gun. It felt like some maniac was slicing her toes off with gardening shears.

She looked down for the shovel of red-hot coals someone just dumped on her foot.

'My foot,' she screeched. 'It's on my foot!'

The acid had splashed all over Carl’s shoe and been eating through this entire time.

She wrenched the shoe off.

Alex ran toward her with the bag of cement dust.

Covered every inch in dust, he looked like a gray ghost.

Thank God! He'll neutralize the acid before it eats my toes off.

Without slowing, Alex swung the bag of cement into Chrissie's chest with all his strength.

 

 

#

 

 

Only the bag exploding saved Chrissie from a dozen broken ribs and a punctured lung.

As it was, she crumpled backward like a pedestrian struck by a cyclist. She spun as she fell, covering her face a split second before the steel floor could mash her nose to pulp.

The pistol jolted from her grasp.

It clattered through the blinding cloud of cement dust.

I need that!

Without it she was fucked. Her life depended on it.

It hadn't gone far.

But that didn't matter, she realized.
I'm practically blind.

She frantically searched the floor around herself. It wasn't within immediate reach.

What should I do?

At least the attack had buried her foot in cement dust. Her chest hurt, but wouldn't prevent her crawling.

Or fighting.

'She dropped the pistol,' Alex yelled. 'Quickly, Megan. Help me!'

Oh, God. Please let me find it first.

Chrissie
needed
that pistol. Without the pistol,
she'd
be the guinea pig. She'd be taking all the risks.
If they don't just shoot me out of spite.

She'd heard it land. She crawled that way, searching the floor desperately. She heard Alex swear.

He was right beside her.

Right above her.

Suddenly he stumbled and fell right over her.

Chrissie fell sideways. They landed together, still blind to each other.

Alex rolled away.

Chrissie landed on the pistol.

Thank God!

Alex scrambled away.

Chrissie quietly picked up the pistol. She barely heard Alex now. She couldn't see a thing.

He might be right in front of me.

Chrissie's lungs began to burn.
I've been holding my breath all this time.

Alex had been too.

But not anymore.

He began coughing. He sounded low and close. Chrissie heard his hands searching the floor.
He's still searching for the gun. He doesn't know I've found it.

His coughing sounded louder.

He's crawling toward me.

She lifted the pistol.

Straight toward me....

BANG!

If she hit him, then he was made of steel, because she heard the ear-piercing
CLAAAAANG
of the bullet striking metal.

It sounded like she'd shot a church bell.

'Stop shooting!' yelled Megan. 'Don't shoot each other!'

Megan doesn't even know who has the gun.

Everything went quiet. Chrissie was still holding her breath, but not for much longer. Alex had stopped moving and somehow controlled his coughing. He was hiding from her, maybe even creeping away. He couldn't stay invisible for long. The vent would clear the dust from the chamber soon.

'What's going on?' called Megan. 'Alex? Alex! Are you all right?'

Chrissie couldn't hold her breath a second longer. She took a breath and instantly began coughing.

The cough seemed like a trigger for Alex.

'She's got the gun!' Alex yelled at Megan. 'Get around the ice!'

With his position exposed, Alex scrambled away again.

Chrissie spotted a shape crawling away. Her gun sights were visible now too.

He's dead.

She aimed carefully, rewarded with a glimpse of brightly moving color. She sighted on the color.

BANG!

The bullet drilled a visible swirling tunnel through the dust. A tunnel leading to Alex.

Alex hollered in pain.

Got him.

Coughing painfully, Chrissie gained her feet and stumbled from the dust cloud.

She could barely see. The dust in her eyes made everything blurry. She rubbed her fingers on the ice and wiped her eyes.

That's a bit better.

She limped around the ice, wincing with each step. Her chest ached with every breath.

Alex lay on his side, coughing from the dust or the bullet wound.

Megan knelt beside him. Half of Megan's hair was missing. The acid splash on her forearm had formed a pinkish crust of cement and blood.

Chrissie kicked the Roman helmet from her path.

Claaang!

Megan spun. 'Leave us alone. Get away from us. This is all your fault. We told you it was trapped!'

Chrissie advanced. 'Get back, Megan.'

Alex murmured something. Whatever it was, Megan backed away.

Covered head to toe in powder, Alex resembled a toppled statue. Chrissie glanced down at herself.

I look the same.

Alex had more of the pinkish crust on his arms than Megan.

He hasn't washed his eyes,
Chrissie realized.
I'm just a blur to him.

'Did I shoot you?' she asked.

Alex nodded.

'You brought it on yourself.'

Alex reached back to his wound. Chrissie prepared herself for blood-drenched fingers, but Alex slid something across the floor.

It stopped near her burnt toes.

Carl's big yellow mobile phone?

A bullet hole drilled dead center into the phone.

Chrissie kicked it.
This was the bright color I glimpsed? I was aiming at Carl's phone?

Carl's stupid phone had stopped her bullet. Alex wasn't bleeding from a gunshot wound at all.

Those acid wounds aren't fatal.

He'll be on his feet in minutes.

'I have to do this,' said Chrissie, advancing for a clean head shot. '
I can't watch you both.'

Alex squinted up at her. 'Please don't....'