Lost in the Echo (8 page)

16

It was a wasp, or what looked like a wasp, a giant insect, that was for sure, the size of a border collie. The colors were off, though. Instead of black and yellow, it was reddish all over, like it’d been dipped in blood, and the urge to scream became almost too much.

But Lisa didn’t scream. She held it back. The wasp was crawling through the porthole, its long antennae twitching, its massive black eyes staring back at her and Radar.

I should have listened to him
, she thought.
I shouldn’t have turned around
.

Something touched her hand, and Lisa nearly screamed. She looked down and saw Radar’s hand, giving hers a tight squeeze. He was watching her, she realized, watching her from the corner of his eye, and there was something in his frozen gaze that he wanted her to understand. But what was it? All she knew was that they were trapped with this giant insect, and that totally sucked.

The wasp crawled just a little farther into the observatory. It buzzed its wings for a beat, the sound palpable. The beating wings kicked up a breeze strong enough to shift her hair.

Radar released her hand. She glanced at him again, slowly, not wanting to spook the wasp. She believed that if they didn’t move a muscle, if they became lifeless statues, the insect wouldn’t see them.

He was looking at something across the observatory. The space wasn’t far at all—barely fifteen feet—but it seemed vast with a giant insect invading it.

Outside the observatory came the sound of even more buzzing. It was impossible to tell just how many more wasps there were. The door was right behind them, but any chance of escape was gone. The moment they opened that door, they would be greeted with several more wasps. And what if they weren’t? The distance from the observatory to the house would take what, thirty seconds to cross? Radar was a fast runner, but Lisa’s top speed was closer to a jog. While the distance wasn’t immense, she doubted they could outrun the giant insects.

This wasp, however, was their main problem at the moment. It crawled in even farther, its long, needle-like stinger the only thing still poking out of the porthole. In another couple of seconds it would be completely inside the observatory.

Radar continued gazing at something on the other side of the room. She followed his eyes, at first not sure what he was looking at, and then it clicked.

A metal stool sat beside a small desk. It was the only thing in the observatory that they could use as a weapon. The desk, while small, was completely out of the question. So was the telescope, which was bolted down, and even if it wasn’t, she doubted either of them had the strength to lift it up over their heads to try to smash the wasp.

The wasp crawled even farther into the observatory, using the telescope as a kind of bridge. Lisa stared past it for a moment, at the blue sky outside…until another antenna moved into frame.

Lisa gasped.

Radar twisted his face toward her, giving her a warning glare. Then he noticed she was staring at something and followed her gaze.

He stood completely still for a moment, and then whispered, “Shut the porthole,” and he bolted toward the stool.

The wasp paused for a beat, then it turned and watched Radar for another beat, before its wings started buzzing and it launched right at him.

Radar dove at the last second, grabbing the legs of the stool, and as he pivoted on the ground, he swung the stool back at the wasp.

The seat of the stool connected with the wasp’s head. It fell on the floor, motionless for a moment, stunned, and then it started to buzz again—an angry buzz in Lisa’s mind, a very pissed off buzz.

“Lisa, now!”

She bolted toward the telescope. The button was on the wall. All she needed to do was push it. Once she did, the porthole would close. Simple as that. Only, based on how the porthole opened, it wouldn’t close very quickly. It would take a couple of seconds, and who knew just how long before the second wasp crawled inside.

She heard Radar grunt as he swung the stool again. The wasp’s buzz grew louder. The wasp outside, perhaps drawn by the noise, leaned over the open portal and peered down.

She punched the button.

Nothing happened.

“It’s not working!”

Radar didn’t answer her. He couldn’t. Currently he was trying to climb to his feet while the wasp twitched toward him. Its antennae, which had been straight before, were now crooked, bent in the middle where he’d struck them.

“Radar!”

He started to glance her way, but that was when the wasp rose up and flew at him again. He swung the stool a third time, harder now, knocking the wasp away. It hit the ground but immediately bounced back.

The second wasp, meanwhile, began crawling through the porthole. Radar was already having trouble fighting the first. He wouldn’t be able to manage two at the same time.

Lisa punched the button again, and again, and again. Each time nothing happened. Panic rose, but she looked for a weapon. Besides the stool, there was the desk and the telescope, and both were too large and heavy to—

The telescope!

She hurried forward, remembering Radar looking at the buttons that controlled the telescope. One of those buttons made the telescope expand, the top end moving outside the observatory. Which button that was,  she couldn’t remember, but that didn’t matter.

Lisa started punching buttons, feeling like Dee Dee let loose in Dexter’s Lab.

The third button did the trick. The telescope hummed as the top began to expand, just as the second wasp had started to crawl inside. The giant insect buzzed angrily as the telescope pushed it away. It appeared to be pushing back, but the telescope’s mechanisms worked against it. A few seconds later, the telescope was completely elongated, and while there was still space around it, it wasn’t enough for the wasp to slip through.

Radar had managed to climb to his feet, gripping the stool in both hands. The wasp came at him again, only this time it wasn’t as nimble. Its antennae weren’t just crooked anymore; they were snapped at ninety degree angles, barely connected. One of its wings was torn, as well. Radar paused, the stool cocked back over his shoulder. He feinted twice, making the wasp hop back. Stepping forward a third time, Radar swung hard, bringing the stool’s seat down on the creature’s head. It fell to the floor, legs twitching, one of its wings still buzzing. Radar raised the stool over his head and brought it down onto the wasp’s head, again and again and again.

“Radar!”

He stopped, the stool over his head, and glanced back at her. There was something different at that moment in his eyes, something that scared her. He blinked and that something disappeared. He was the Radar she had always known and now loved.

“I think it’s dead,” she said.

Radar glanced down at the motionless wasp, its head little more than a chunky paste. He nodded, his shoulders dropping, and he let go of the stool. It clattered to the ground.

“Now what?” she asked.

Outside, the buzzing swelled.

17

They took him into the back room, sat him down in a folding chair and ripped the tape off his mouth.

Charley said, his voice quiet, “What are you guys going to do?”

“We haven’t decided yet,” Osterman said. “The fact is, we didn’t think we’d be seeing you so soon.”

“You can’t hurt me.”

“Who says we’re going to hurt you?” Osterman asked.

“If he finds out you hurt me—”

“Yeah,” Boyle said, “speaking of our mutual friend...”

Charley frowned. “What about him?”

“We need to talk to him,” Osterman said.

“Not possible.”

“Not
possible
?” Boyle smiled, and glanced at Osterman. “He says that’s not possible.”

“I heard what he said.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Not at all.”

“Guys,” Charley said, and he hated to hear the whine in his voice. “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know where he is.”

Osterman frowned. “That right?”

“I swear it.”

“See,” Boyle said, “the problem is, we both know you’re lying.”

“I’m not!”

“But you are. Keep in mind, I was watching your friends out there through the scope of my rifle. From my vantage point, I could see all the way down to the road. You’re saying you came with the group, but I watched you run into them.”

Charley said nothing. He had been doing a good job so far of keeping direct eye contact with the two soldiers, but now his gaze shifted away.

“From what it looked like to me,” Boyle said, “you weren’t with them at all. In fact, it looked like you were headed somewhere else. Now, Chuck, I wonder where that could be.”

Charley opened his mouth. Closed it.

Osterman leaned down and stared hard at Charley until the bound man was forced to meet his eyes.

He said, “Don’t make us hurt you. I promise you, the very last thing you want is for us to hurt you.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Tell us how to contact him,” Boyle said.

“Why?”

“
Why
?” Boyle laughed. He turned to Osterman, “He wants to know why.”

Osterman used his hand to smack the back of Charley’s head. “Why do you think, dipshit? We want out of this funhouse.”

Now it was Charley who laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Boyle asked.

“You think you’re going to tell him what to do?” Charley asked. “He doesn’t listen to anybody.”

“He will to us,” Boyle said.

Charley nearly laughed. “He’s not scared of you.”

“He will be.”

“You’re nothing to him,” Charley said. “Just the hired help.”

“Speak for yourself,” Osterman said.

“Look, I brought you guys food and supplies because that was my job. That was my
only
job. The rest of this shit”—he shook his head—“you think I knew what would happen? Fuck no. If I had, I would have been halfway to California by the time that goddamn church bell started ringing. And for the record, I’m pretty sure our little jaunt through the thirteen levels of hell wasn’t sanctioned.”

Boyle crossed his arms, took a deep breath. “You realize you’re not making this easy on yourself, don’t you?”

“I can’t tell you something I don’t know.”

“Except we know you’re lying.”

“I’m not!”

“Charley, please,” Boyle said. “If you’re not going to respect us, at least respect yourself.”

“The fact is,” Osterman said, “we don’t even know who
he
is. We’ve never actually met our employer...or the person posing as our employer. All we have is his name, and I’ve gone through all that shit and found nothing useful.” He threw his hand out at a desk set against the wall, boxes and papers scattered on top. “But you’ve met the guy. You can shake your head and try to deny it as much as you want, but we all know you’re lying. You know exactly who he is.”

“I don’t.”

“Bullshit.” Boyle looked at Osterman. “Guess we need to take a different approach.”

They moved so quickly Charley barely even realized it, at first. One moment they were standing in front of him, the next they grabbed him and pulled him out of the chair. Charley heard the snick of a switchblade popping open. The zip-tie fell away from his wrists. He was pushed back down onto the chair, and Boyle had his hand now, his left hand, squeezing Charley’s index finger.

“Who is he?” Boyle asked.

Charley started shaking his head, his eyes brimming with tears, knowing very well what these men intended to do.

“If I tell you...” His voice was a whimper.

“What?” Boyle asked. “He’ll kill you? You don’t think
we’ll
kill you?”

“Please, I have a son!”

Osterman said, “Like you give a shit about your boy.”

“I do! Please, I can’t—”

“Sorry, Chuck,” Boyle said.

And he snapped Charley’s finger.

18

The howling from the other room had just stopped, when the ground began to tremble.

It had the same earthquake quality as before—barely a two on the Richter—but it felt sharper, like the thing burrowing up toward them was getting closer.

Griffin glanced at Frost beside him. She just looked back. He tried reading her eyes, searching for some kind of silent communication, but all he saw was anger. They might die here, and there was nothing they could do to stop it. Either these men would kill them or the roots would.

He gripped the metal pipe. It was thin but strong, not apt to bend easily. He looked over his shoulder and saw the pipe traveled the length of the wall. But was the pipe one long band or was it jointed? Surely there had to be a weak point. He thought if Cash was here, the man would know exactly where to find the weak point. But the man was back in town, trying to get the power going in the rest of the homes that hadn’t been retrofitted. His thoughts turned to Avalon, who was still craving Oxy—would no doubt crave it for quite some time—and he wished he could have spent a few extra minutes with her before leaving. He wished he could have at least hugged her and kissed her and told her he loved her. The thought that he might never see her again was enough to drive him crazy, and he didn’t realize he was gripping the pipe so tightly until he felt his nails digging deeply into the palms of his hands.

Griffin blinked and noticed Frost watching him. Her eyes shifted back to the pipe, and he saw she had her hands gripped around it, too. He glanced to the other side and saw Winslow and Dodge were doing the same. Both men were watching him, either waiting to see whether he understood or waiting for permission to proceed.

Griffin nodded, just once, and then they all began pulling the pipe forward a bit.

Nothing happened, at least not at first, but they kept pulling it and pulling it and…
Was that movement?
Griffin thought it was. There was a ping of straining metal, farther down toward the end of the hanger, where the pipe turned at a ninety-degree angle and headed toward the ceiling.

Through the door, the howling continued. Griffin could just hear Charley’s voice, begging the men to stop. Griffin had never been a big fan of Charley Wilson, but the man didn’t deserve to be tortured.

As the howling died away, the ground trembled once more.

They kept pulling on the pipe, but Griffin stopped. He grunted to get everyone’s attention. All eyes focused on him. He looked at Frost on one side, Winslow and Dodge on the other side, and then nodded forward. His legs were out flat in front of him. He raised his left foot and brought it down so the sole of his shoe slapped the concrete. He did it again, and again, and again, both feet now, and the rest of them understood and started stomping, too.

Beneath them, the ground trembled yet again, this time with even more energy and anticipation. Whatever was below, was coming up.