Lost in the Echo (7 page)

13

The flame came at them from the front of the SUV. For a moment, Griffin wondered if that creature in the sky really had been a dragon, and was now breathing fire over them. He couldn’t think of any other explanation for the sudden burst of flame—he no longer had the luxury of discounting anything as impossible.

The temperature in the SUV rose about twenty degrees. High pitched screeching filled the air. It wasn’t until the seeds began falling away from the windshield that Griffin realized the sound was coming from them. It was so high pitched it was barely even audible, but he could hear it well enough. He saw Winslow closing his eyes and turning his head away, and he knew the man heard it too.

The flame died out for a moment, and in that moment Griffin saw it wasn’t a dragon on the other side of the blackened glass, but a man holding a long hose out in front of him.

A flamethrower.

The fire started again, and the man began circling the SUV, coming toward Griffin’s side and working his way toward the rear of the vehicle, the whole time the seeds continued to scream and cry out as they burned to death. Eventually, the man had circled the SUV, and the flame had stopped long enough that they could all see him standing at the front again, the flamethrower now aimed toward the ground.

Winslow lowered the thick manual from the hole in the window. It was smoldering, a burnt crater nearly halfway through the text.

“Now what?” Griffin asked.

Beside him, the big soldier said, “Let’s get out.”

The doors opened, and they all stepped out, gingerly at first because some of the seeds were still alive and on fire. Their screams faded with the dying flames. Griffin hesitated a moment, then crushed several with the heel of his boot like they were ants.

The soldier pushed past Griffin and headed for his comrade, a tall black man with a bald head. After a quick exchange, the original soldier headed to a side room.

Besides the SUV, the rest of the hanger was empty except for two Humvees parked at the far end.

“Who are you?” Frost asked the man with the flamethrower.

The man grinned. “Who am I? Who are you?”

“My name’s Helena Frost. I’m the sheriff of this town.”

“And what are the rest of you supposed to be, the Three Amigos?” The grin lingered on his face for a moment, then started to fade as his eyes focused on the door through which his friend had left. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Frost said, “We should ask you the same question.”

The man looked at her again. “It’s none of your goddamned business what we’re doing here. Fact is, we tried to save your lives. We saw you coming and gave you warning shots. Tried to keep you away from this place.”

“Be that as it may,” Frost said, “that still doesn’t answer the question. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“The name’s Osterman,” the man said.

“You’re a soldier?”

The man sniffed. “Used to be.”

“What are you now?” Frost asked.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“This is my town.” Frost crossed her arms. “I can go wherever I please.”

Osterman shook his head. “You have no fucking clue whose town this is.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Winslow asked.

The soldier who had saved them outside exited the side room. “What are you telling them?” he asked Osterman.

“Nothing,” Osterman said, looking defensive. “Told them they fucked up, is all.”

The other man was nodding his head. “That they did.”

Frost’s voice was nearly a shout. “I don’t want to place you under arrest, but if you give me no choice, I will.”

“Arrest us?” Osterman snorted laughter. “For what?”

“Trespassing.”

“This is a National Guard Depot,” the second soldier said. “This property belongs to the U.S. government.”

“Not anymore,” Griffin pointed out. “We’re a long way from the good ol’ U.S. of A.”

“But for how long?” Osterman shrugged out of the flamethrower straps and placed the tank and thrower on the ground. He said to the other man, “So what should we do about this, Boyle?”

Boyle tilted his head back and forth, thinking about it. “I guess we don’t have much choice in the matter, do we?”

“No,” Osterman said, “I guess we don’t.”

The two men moved instantaneously, like they had practiced it a thousand times—pulling 9mm Berettas from their holsters, aiming them straight at the group, all in one quick, fluid motion.

Frost didn’t flinch. Didn’t go for her gun, either, though the instinct was hard to tamp down. “The hell do you two think you’re doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious,
Sheriff
? All of you need to drop your weapons and raise your hands, or we will drop you where you stand.”

14

Lisa didn’t hear the buzzing at first.

She was too preoccupied with thoughts of her parents, somewhere far, far away. Part of her wished she had taken them up on their offer and gone to Ashland, to watch the fireworks. That same part wished she had talked Radar into coming with her. If she had, maybe he would have agreed, and maybe the two of them would have been lying on a blanket, staring up at the sky, watching fireworks explode above them while the town disappeared. Maybe their fingers would have touched first, then their hands clasped together in silent union, but no more than that—not with her parents nearby. Would they have shared their first kiss in private, like they had in the bell tower? No, but maybe they could have sneaked away for a couple of minutes, using the excuse they both needed to use the restroom, and maybe they could have dashed into the shadows behind one of the buildings. Radar could have held her close and leaned forward and—

“Lisa?”

She blinked. Turned her head and found Radar giving her a worried look.

“You okay, Shadow Liar?”

Not trusting herself to speak, she forced a smile at his reference to the clever anagram he’d made of her name, when they had been in the church’s bell tower. When the world had gone haywire.

She nodded.

“Are you sure? For a moment your lip was quivering and you…”

He didn’t say it. Didn’t have to.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, and placed his hand on her back.

She closed her eyes at his touch. It made her feel at peace, despite her inner turmoil. After all, Radar was doing everything he could to help keep her mind off her parents. It wasn’t his fault she kept thinking about them.

“I just…” her voice cracked, “I just miss them so much. And not because it’s been so long since I’ve seen them, but...because...I might never see them again.”

Taking her into his arms, her whispered into her ear, “I know...”

“I don’t even think they realize I’m gone. Or that
they’re
gone. Or that—” She shook her head, knew she was on the verge of tears and tried to push them away. “Do you think they’ve even noticed yet? Like, not just my parents, but everybody else in Ashland? Or the world?”

“It’s been like eighteen hours,” Radar said. “I think they’ve noticed.”

“Assuming time works the same wherever we are. What if we’re experiencing the same moment in time on different worlds? Then no time at all will have passed.”

Radar squinted at her. “Did...you come up with that on your own?”

“Don’t look at me like you’re surprised I said something smart.” She gave him a half smile. She’d actually overheard a conversation in the grocery store. It was one of Winslow’s theories. But she wasn’t about to tell Radar that now. She sniffed back her tears. “Asshole.”

His eyes shifted up to meet hers. The serious look in his eyes stole away what remained of her smile. “Do you really want to know what I think?”

Biting her lip, she nodded.

“I’ve been thinking…” He cleared his throat. “What if everybody else is gone? That it’s not just us—Refuge—moving from world to world. What if the worlds are moving to
us
?”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He shrugged, tried on a goofy smile. “You asked what I thought. Though now that I’ve said it out loud, I think you’re theory is better.” He touched her cheek, wiping an errant tear away with his thumb. “Now come on, let’s check out this thing.”

They were in Mr. Herman’s private observatory, which proudly sat in the backyard. It wasn’t a very large structure—maybe the size of a giant shed—with a domed roof and an opening for the telescope. With Mrs. Herman’s permission, they had ventured out here to inspect it alone. Like many of the kids in town, they’d seen it on a field trip—it was the closest thing you could get to a science museum this far north—but they never really got to look at it up close.

The telescope itself was huge, much larger than the one Lisa’s parents had gotten her years ago for her birthday. Like a lot of kids, she had been fascinated with the moon and the stars and the distant planets. She supposed she was still fascinated to some extent—did that fascination with other worlds ever really go away?—but she couldn’t remember the last time she had looked through her telescope.

This one, however, was top-notch—no doubt about that. Mr. Herman had once worked for NASA, so it made sense he would have the best equipment for stargazing. Only it was daytime now, and there were no stars. Still, that didn’t stop them from opening the hatch—a button on the wall disengaged it, the motor quietly humming. Radar paused before turning on the telescope, but they had Mrs. Herman’s blessing. Lisa gave him a nod, and Radar grinned, turned it on and motioned her to the viewfinder. She leaned in and placed her eye against the soft rubber.

“I don’t see anything,” she said, stepping back and giving Radar a try.

He leaned down and squinted through the viewfinder. He stood that way for a long moment, hunched over, before he said, “I think I see the Death Star!”

She swatted at him, a playful swat, and he laughed as he caught her hand and pulled her to him. They were close again, their noses only inches apart. She tried to keep all thoughts of her parents from her mind, tried to lose herself in the moment and just forget about what was happening in town and to the people. How Sheriff Rule was dead and so was Mrs. Beaumont, and that her parents were somewhere or maybe they were nowhere, dead and gone in a void-like space, and maybe—

Lisa heard it then, the buzz, distant but gaining in volume, a sound like a lawnmower engine drifting on the wind. “Do you hear that?”

Radar opened his eyes. He’d been leaning in for a kiss. After what they had shared less than 24 hours ago—what now felt like days—Lisa understood the urge to continue with their desires. Teenage hormones, however, would need to be put aside for the time being.

She saw a flash of disappointment in Radar’s eyes, but then he cocked his head and nodded. He heard it too.

“What is that?” he asked.

The buzzing grew in volume and pitch. Now it sounded less like a lawnmower and more like an insect. A
lot
of insects.

Radar crossed the floor of the observatory, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Lisa asked, her fear growing.

He placed his hand on the doorknob. “I want to see what it is.”

Her first thought was of that monster flying in the sky, the one they had seen outside of Soucey’s Market, and she wanted to tell him not to open the door. But then the light streaming in through the telescope’s porthole darkened. Radar’s eyes shifted away from hers, looking up. The half-smile on his face dropped away.

“What is it?” she asked, but her voice could barely be heard above the buzzing—which, she now realized, was coming from right outside.

Not from just outside—from above.

“Lisa.” Radar’s voice a faint whisper. “Do
not
turn around.”

15

The men moved them toward the far wall and had them sit down on the cold concrete. A thin pipe ran the length of the wall, and Boyle used several pairs of zip-ties to bind their hands behind their backs and around the pipe. Osterman took strips of duct tape and sealed each of their mouths shut.

Frost had never felt so helpless in her entire life. She had been placed in difficult situations in the past, certainly, but nothing like this. Having your weapon taken away from you, your pockets searched, then being tied up and gagged, and made to sit on the floor like a disobedient child—it was all so depressing that Frost felt as if a piece of her soul had been chipped away.

After dumping the weapons confiscated from Frost and the others in the still sizzling SUV, Osterman and Boyle moved farther back toward the center of the hanger, whispering to each other. Finally, Boyle nodded and Osterman approached them. He crouched down, rested his arms on his knees, and clasped his hands together.

“So here’s the deal,” he said, his voice soft. “We’re not sure yet what to do with you. The easiest thing would be to just kill you, but luckily for you, we’re not the murdering type. We have killed before, yes, but that was in service to our country.” He paused a beat, another grin spreading across his face. “And sometimes hired work on the side, but that’s a story for another time.”

Frost made a noise. It wasn’t a loud noise—she couldn’t make much noise at all with the tape over her mouth—but it was enough to draw Osterman’s attention.

He cocked his ear at her. “Something you’d like to say?”

Frost made the noise again.

Osterman said, “I’m going to save us all some time and energy and get the basics out of the way. No, I don’t know exactly what’s going on here. Yes, myself and Boyle and the rest of us work for a private security firm, Sidewinder, contracting our services to the U.S. military. We were told this was a mission of the utmost importance. We weren’t told what that mission was, only that it was a need-to-know basis and we didn’t need to know. Thing is, the others that were with us—eight more damned good men—are dead now. Half of us died in that fucking darkness. We were caught off guard. By the time the sun came out, most of our men were dead.”

He shook his head, staring off into a distance that only he could see in his mind.

“Anyway, we don’t know what’s going on here, what exactly this new world is, but we do know whatever Mother Nature is in this place, she’s a coldhearted bitch. That thing that attacked your friend here?” He motioned to Dodge. “Boyle and I think it’s a root from that massive tree just outside the border. Yeah, a fucking
root
. The plant life here seems—from what we’ve seen—to be predatory and carnivorous. The reason I’m whispering? The reason we take light steps? Because the tree senses the vibrations in the ground. That’s how it’s able to track us.”

He tilted his head to the side, said, “Boyle, what did you say it was like?”

“That Kevin Bacon movie. The one with the giant worms.”

“That’s right,” Osterman said, nodding, turning back to the group. “The only protection we have now is the concrete beneath our feet. But who’s to say just how deep this concrete goes? That tree gets pissed off enough, there’s a chance it could break through even here.”

Frost made another noise, this time more urgent.

Osterman eyed her for a long moment, then stood up and approached her. He leaned down and pinched the corner of the duct tape between his fingers, paused and said, “Don’t waste my time, okay?”

He ripped the tape from her mouth, and Frost immediately moved her lips, the taste of the tape disgusting.

Glaring up at Osterman, she said, “If you’re going to kill us, just get it over with.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? We have no intention of killing you. But we can’t quite let you walk around free, either, making a fucking racket. Not while that tree is out there.”

“People back in town know we came here. I’m supposed to call in on the radio every fifteen minutes. If I don’t, the deputies back in town are instructed to come look after us.”

Osterman snorted another laugh. “Lady, do you think we’re stupid? We didn’t come into this town unprepared. We know all about you. Besides you and Sheriff Rule, there isn’t much left of the Refuge police department. Speaking of which, why did you say you were the sheriff earlier? Did something happen to Rule?”

Frost bit her lip. She didn’t want to give this man the satisfaction of the truth.

“It doesn’t matter,” Osterman said. “The fact is, I’m calling your bluff, because I bet nobody is coming to your rescue. And even if there is, they’re going to have to deal with the tree. Boyle and I did you all a courtesy earlier, when we tried to keep you away. It’s not our fault you decided to ignore it.”

“Who brought you here?” Frost asked.

“I told you,” Osterman said. “Uncle Sam.”

“You must have a name. A real name.”

He thought and then nodded. “The man who’s paying us very well, whose name is on the checks, but I doubt he’s a real person.”

“All the money in the world won’t benefit you when you’re dead,” Frost said.

“This is true. That’s why Boyle and me don’t plan to die any time soon. Aren’t you paying attention?”

Frost knew that pointing out the fact that giant trees and ash monsters probably didn’t accept greenbacks wouldn’t get her very far. So she focused on getting an answer to the nagging question. “Give me the name,” she said. “If he’s not real, what does it matter?”

Neither man answered. “You both are clearly capable of protecting yourselves,” Frost said, changing tactics again. “You could help us protect this town.”

“Sorry, but that’s not part of our orders,” Osterman said.

“What
are
your orders?” Frost asked.

“Sorry,” the soldier said. “My turn to ask questions. What brought you all here?”

Frost said nothing.

“Seriously?” Osterman said. “After everything I’ve told you already, you can’t answer my simple question?”

Frost just stared back at him.

Shaking his head, Osterman replaced the strip of duct tape over Frost’s mouth. He stood up, stared down at the others, then lifted his chin at Winslow.

“How about you?”

Winslow just glared back at him.

To Griffin: “You?”

No response.

“What about you, Pastor Dodge? Don’t look surprised. Didn’t I say we came to this town prepared?”

Dodge just stared.

“Okay,” Osterman said, “now you’re all starting to piss me off. How about you, Boyle? You getting pissed off?”

Boyle, standing tall and firm with his arms crossed, said, “That I am.”

“How about you?” Osterman said, crouching down now in front of Charley. “Are
you
going to tell us what we want to know...Chuck?”

Charley made a soft noise, what could have been construed as a mewl.

Osterman peeled back the tape. “Say that again?”

“I don’t know anything!”

The shout echoed around the hanger. For a moment, silence followed it, then the ground shook.

“You stupid shit,” Osterman said, pushing the tape back on Charley’s lips. “You trying to get us all killed?”

Charley tried to say something through the tape.

Osterman stood back up, took a deep breath. “I’m tired of playing the nice guy. The fact is, we need to know what brought you all here. And if you’re not going to tell us willingly, then we’re going to have to force it out of you. And as of right now, I think it’s clear who the weakest one is.”

He nodded at Boyle, and Boyle stepped forward. Both men scooped Charley up with a hand under each arm. Charley made another mewling noise, kicking his feet, and the ground beneath them trembled slightly again.

“Knock it off!” Osterman breathed and slapped Charley across the face.

Charley stopped struggling, briefly, before starting up again.

This time Boyle rammed his fist into Charley’s stomach. Charley doubled over.

Frost watched as the men dragged Charley toward the doorway. He stared back at her with wide, desperate eyes, telling her that no matter how helpless she felt, he had now given up all hope.