Vanished (25 page)

Deliver me to evil, he had prayed, and so he trained the M16
on Luther's face, thought mean and hard about shooting until
he remembered why he had agreed to meet with this slime.

The second backpack.

Luther's face was so deep in shadow of a hood that Logan
couldn't even describe him, let alone recognize him. The sweatshirt he wore was oversized, the pants baggy.

"What do you make of this place?" Luther said.

Now was not the time to debate what manner of experience
this was. The only reality that mattered was time ticking on.
Eighteen minutes before two o'clock, according to his watch.
"Where's the backpack?"

"You're not much of a poet, Sergeant Logan. Nor are you
a strategist."

"You said you'd tell me."

"And you believed me? How droll."

"Spare me the dialogue from Masterpiece Theatre. Yes, I
believed you. Because you want me to know."

"True."

"So tell me."

"I moved the backpack. To where it will do the most-"

A roaring whirlwind came over them, flinging both men to
the ground.

The jets have been scrambled, Logan thought, though this
must be a new kind of jet because the dark form passing over
their heads filled a quarter of the sky. He jumped to his feet
and saluted, risking Luther's wrath-and firepower-to demonstrate a marine's burning pride and a cop's vast relief.

The fighter banked and came back their way, its shadow so
oppressively black that it swallowed light as it approached.

A new kind of stealth, Logan thought. The old stealth
bombers sucked up radar, this one drinks in light. Nothing to
be afraid of, and so he stood tall and watched-

-as the thing flapped its wings.

ON REACHED CHLOE AND HANSEN JUST AS A LOUD BOOM
shook the tunnel.

"What the devil is that?" Hansen shouted.

"Run!" Jon grabbed Chloe's hand and rushed back toward
the mudslide. The rocks had let go and now a flood roared
down on them from the east.

Water flooded over the guideways and onto the walkway.
With a flood coming from the east and mud to the west, there
was no way out. They were going to drown.

The tsunami white-watered in the guideways, spilling up on
the walkways so that they had to link arms or be swept away.

"It'll put out the fire," Chloe said.

"No. Look."

They looked back, saw that the glow from the fire was as
bright as ever.

"Maybe we can climb on top of the train," Hansen shouted.
"Hold out until help comes."

A last-ditch plan, but what choice did they have? Moving
east-no choice with the water pushing them-they could see
the car now. The roof was bowed, but it had stood against the
avalanche of mud.

We were just pushing one particle, Jon thought. Did we really
deserve this?

What happened to him was irrelevant, but Chloe shouldn't
die, not with their son's life yet unseen. Would he be an artist
like Jon's father or a physician like Chloe's mom? Would he tinker with his hands like Chloe or live in a theoretical cloud
like Jon?

Maybe he'd inherit some throwback athleticism and play
baseball. Or sing in a chorus or do stand-up comedy. Maybe he
would discover the cure for cancer or live a quiet life, raising
his own vegetables and homeschooling eight kids.

"Breathers," Jon yelled. "I forgot about the breathers-masks
and oxygen bottles. Packed under the seats. In case there's a
release of toxic gas or carbon monoxide."

"Yes!" Hansen pumped his fist. "They'll buy us time."

They whooshed on, half walking and half bodysurfing. The
emergency lights still burned. If the lights went out, it would
be horrific down here, Jon thought. Or would the fire provide
enough light to-do what? To die by?

With the current pushing them, it was only a minute before
they reached the Quanta car. When the magnets had powered
down during the blast, the car had sunk between the guideways.

The door was underwater.

Not only would they have to dive for the breathers, they'd
have to dive just to get in. Mud leeched into the flood, making
the water a chocolate brown.

They grabbed on to the top of the door, holding on against
the current.

"This could be tricky," Hansen said.

"There're probably air pockets near the ceiling," Jon said.

Chloe shook her head. "It's too bowed in the middle from the
mud. I don't think there's space left in there for air."

"OK. Give me some idea how to open the seats," Hansen
said. "I'll go in and get us masks. Then we can all go and collect
all the oxygen bottles we can find."

"I'll do it, Tom. You've got the bad ankle," Jon said. "If I'm
lucky, I'll find a breather on the first try."

Hansen narrowed his eyes. "You said they were in all the
seats."

"Will be. For now, there's only about ten per car. I'll have
to search."

Jon hugged Chloe, then kissed her. Did he imagine the flutter
in her abdomen, or was his child kicking, telling Papa that there
were not just three lives but four at stake? How could he ever let
Chloe and their baby go?

"If you don't come back, I'm coming after you," she said.

"I'll come back. That is an absolute." Jon kissed her one more
time, took a deep breath, and dived into the car.

The lights inside had shorted out, but it didn't matter. The
water was so muddy, he'd have to feel his way along anyway.

Bang! He knocked his head against the lavatory door.

Calm down. Save the adrenaline for saving the world.
Pretty ironic that a flabby, nearsighted geek was about to save
the day.

Jon counted up ten rows, popped the seat, and came up
empty. He did two more, his lungs about to burst, when he
found a breather. He shoved it into his shirt and swam for
the door.

There was a loud groan from above-more mud loosened by
the flood. The roof held, though now it bent almost to the tops
of the seats. It would be a bitter irony to be trapped in here,
with all the oxygen bottles for himself.

Jon kicked harder, knocking again into the lavatory door.

Had to focus, but his mind was muddied. Ha-ha-fatal puns
would be the death of him. And now life was turned upside
down. He and Chloe had wanted to peek into the fabric of the
universe, but instead of it bowing to their will, the world was
having its own way with them.

Mythology held that the world was created from four
elements: earth, air, fire, and water. Maybe their experiment had unloosed the power of creation-they had all of those elements
right here.

Which one would win in the end? Because it sure as spit
wasn't going to be the high-and-mighty physicists and the
flash-and-dash Quanta guy, weak vessels of nitrogen and
carbon and oxygen about to be reabsorbed into the very mud
they had crawled out of eons ago.

"Jon. Jon! Breathe!"

God roaring at him to take a breath? No, that was the water
bearing down on them. It was Chloe who pulled him out when
he got confused and couldn't figure out which way was up.

And really-wasn't that what love was about?

HEN ANGELINA WOKE UP HUNGRY, KATE, JENNY,
and Tripp fought over who was going to feed her.
The world was in chaos, but they wanted to play
with the baby.

Innocence in the time of crisis.

Alexis strapped the baby-carefully, because of her arm-into
a stroller from the lost and found. She gave Angelina another
dose of children's Tylenol, as Kaya had directed. Then she gave
the kids clear instructions on how to feed her.

She left them in her office and went downstairs to check
her security measures. The grates on the front windows and
door were all locked. Through the slats she could see that the
parking lot was empty except for the stalled cars. Off the main
floor, she checked the customer bathrooms, the deli, and the
bake shop, smiling at jenny and her silly notion of something
in the drain.

At the back of the store, the cavernous storeroom was
uncharacteristically still. No trucks making deliveries, no
employees taking breaks, no produce staff opening crates. The
customers only saw the sales floor, but this was the true heart
of Donnelly's. A crew of five worked overnight to restock
staples, and Clint, her meat manager, came in at four every
morning to take inventory and plan for the day's needs.

She needed to make sure the doors were tight, the generators were locked down, and that no one was hiding out here.
That had happened once before-some bully who beat one of her stock boys before the shift supervisor clobbered him with
a canned ham.

Her last stop was the meat room. It was vital that the
temperature hold steady to protect her inventory. When the
kids were done feeding and playing with Angelina, she'd have
them unload the meat and dairy cases and move everything
in here. No reason to run the open refrigerated cases in the
aisles when no one was shopping.

Good thing the bombing had taken place on a Monday. This
was a meager day, almost a loss leader. Donnelly's had to stay
open, but the store made very little profit, what with salaries
and utilities. Not that she'd pay Kate and jenny for any time
past one-thirty. Once she brought them into the store and they
clowned around with Tripp and the baby, they became guests
and not staff.

The meat room had been left in a mess. Her butchers understandably wanted to get home, but that was no reason to leave
ground beef in the grinder and knives crusting with chicken.
Clint was her highest-paid employee-she expected better
from him. It would take an hour to wash and sanitize the
cutting boards, slicers, knives, drains. Longer if what jenny
said was true and water was out to the entire store. What good
were the high-pressure washers and steam hoses if they didn't
have water?

Alexis turned a faucet. Nothing. This was ridiculous. This
part of town got water from the tower high on the Ledges. No
need for a pumping station to keep it flowing downhill.

Something scraped under the cutting table.

She grabbed a cleaver from the rack. This wouldn't be the first
time she'd clobbered a varmint. Donnelly's was a clean store, but
pigeons, chipmunks, squirrels, and rats sneaked in occasionally.

She bent down, found a pile of rib and leg bones under the
table. Some fool had tossed his waste under there instead of
bagging it. She and Clint would have a long talk tomorrow.

Scrape. A high-pitched noise, like fingernails on metal, but
she couldn't see anything. Perhaps the invader had crept into
the drain. The pipe was a good eight inches wide, a washout for
scrubbing down the tables, walls, and floors.

This was nuts-Alexis had better things to do than go on a
mouse hunt. She should just clean up the best she could, then
go play with the baby.

What would happen to Angelina now that she was orphaned?
Couldn't worry about that now. Today was all about getting
through the moment. Keeping safe. Which was why this
scraping drove her crazy.

A shrinkwould say Alexis was displaying transference, shifting
her anxiety from the terrorists to a rodent. But an invader was
an invader, whether it had two feet and a bomb or four feet and
sharp teeth. And a defender was a defender, whether she carried
a Lady Smith & Wesson or wielded a cleaver.

Alexis shoved the table out of the way and looked down into
the drain. Couldn't see anything through the grate, so she used
a filet knife as a screwdriver to remove it.

"Miz Latham?" Tripp had come into the meat locker, with Kate
and jenny right behind him. Jenny held a teary-faced Angelina.

"I thought I told you not to lift her out of that stroller,"
Alexis said.

"She did a stinky," Kate said. "We were going to change her,
but when jenny picked her up, that ACE bandage on her arm
shifted and she began to cry. We calmed her down, but we
thought maybe you should change her diaper."