So Close to You (So Close to You - Trilogy) (30 page)

I stay still and silent as Wes pulls the truck over. His door opens and closes, and in a few moments he’s yanking the tarp back. I blink and take his hand when he offers it to me.

We jog through the trees until we reach the vent again. “It’s the quickest, safest way in,” he tells me as he pushes the heavy metal covering aside.

This time Wes drops down first, and catches me as I lower myself after him. It’s dark and musty inside. I take shallow breaths. The smell of bleach and acid hangs in the air.

Wes leads and I follow. Somehow he’s graceful even when he’s crawling through an air duct. The thought makes me smile.

We’re only inside for a few minutes before he stops over a metal grate. He yanks it up and shoves it to the side, then lowers himself into the hole. I follow, trusting him to catch me as I fall.

The room isn’t lit, and it’s hard to see where we are. I sense Wes standing in front of me and I step closer to him. From the smell of cleaning supplies, I would guess we’re in a supply closet, and I wonder briefly if it’s the one I ran into by mistake a few days ago.

“Why are we here?” I whisper.

I feel, rather than see, Wes walk to the door. “The vents don’t access Dean’s office. I discovered that when I snuck in to get you that folder.”

Wes opens the door a crack and light spills into the small room. He motions me forward.

The hallway is empty, and we inch along the side, keeping close to the wall. I hear the sound of a door opening, and Wes puts his hand out, stopping me. I hold my breath. We stand there, frozen and listening, but no one comes.

We continue through another door and down a short flight of stairs. I think I might recognize some of the hallways we pass through, but it’s hard to tell—everything looks the same. White concrete, gleaming metal doors, wide tiles covering the floor. We pass through another door. Pause to wait for a sound of footsteps to pass. Go. Stop again. Go. Another door.

Sweat glides down the center of my back, and my hands shake against my sides. We enter a silver corridor that I know I’ve never seen before. The floor, the ceiling, everything is metal. Dozens of doors line each side.

I jump when I hear the sound of someone moaning. I think it’s coming from one of the doors near me and instinctively turn toward it. Wes shakes his head and grabs my arm. He leads me down the hallway and out into another white hall. “What was that?” I whisper.

“Cells,” he replies under his breath.

I shudder. We turn a corner and then Wes points to a narrow door on the right. I step forward, but Wes pushes me gently behind him. He opens the door to Dean’s office quickly and slips inside.

Dean is hunched over a large desk with his fingers pressed against his temples. The room around him is gray and bare. I notice that he’s wearing a black uniform that matches those of the other guards in the Facility.

Dean bolts upright when he sees Wes. “What—”

He notices me and goes still.

“Lydia. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Dean.” I step forward. Wes stays by the door, keeping watch. “We don’t have much time. I need to talk to you.”

“What’s going on?” he demands. “Who are you?”

There’s a gun lying on the surface of his desk. Dean’s fingers twitch. Wes has his eyes glued to the weapon.

I take a step forward. “I’m here to warn you. I know about the Montauk Project. And about the Recruitment Initiative. It’s not what you think.”

“You
are
a spy.” Dean’s face twists; his voice is grim.

“No. I’m a time traveler. And I’m your great-granddaughter.”

His mouth falls open as I tell him about stumbling into the time machine and ending up in 1944.

“Peter is my grandfather. I’m a Bentley, and I have something really important to tell you.”

His face is white, ashen. “Prove it.”

“What?”

“If you are who you say you are, then prove it.”

My mind races. “How? I can tell you something that happens in the future, but you won’t know if it’s true or not yet.”

“Tell me something about Peter. Something only he and I would know.”

I desperately try to think of a memory involving both of them. “He hates peas,” I blurt. “He’s always hated them, because he said that once you made him canned peas when his mother wasn’t home and that he put cold butter on them to try to make them taste better, but they turned into cold gray-green mush. You wouldn’t let him get up from the table until he finished. After that he couldn’t eat them without throwing up.”

Dean’s eyes widen slightly. “How do I know he didn’t tell you that story in the past few days?” Though I might have shaken him, he isn’t convinced.

“He has a scar,” I say frantically. “On his stomach. His appendix ruptured when he was only three. It’s in a straight line, next to his belly button.”

“You could have seen that anytime.”

I look helplessly at Wes. He meets my eyes briefly. There’s a steadiness in his eyes that makes me start to think more clearly.

I turn to Dean. “There’s a cubbyhole in Peter’s room. Under his bed. He doesn’t think anyone knows about it. It’s where he hides his treasures. There’s a red tin box with a picture of a bear on the top. He’s only ever shown it to you after you gave him a picture of yourself.”

Dean is silent, his green eyes wide.

“Look, you can argue with everything I say, but here’s the truth: you disappear forever. Tomorrow or today, I don’t know anymore.”

I shake my head, frustrated. “Peter grows up without a father. At first I thought you were going on the Project Hero mission to kill Hitler.”

He looks at me with surprise, but I ignore him. “But then I found out you’re the one who runs the Recruitment Initiative. So now I don’t know
how
you disappear, I just know it happens. You need to be careful, Dean.”

He drops back down into his desk chair and buries his face in his hands. “You came to tell me I’m going to die.”

I take another step forward. “I came to warn you.”

He looks up. His face seems to have aged in an instant; the grooves near his mouth look deeper; his eyes are drooping at the corners. “Is that all?”

I exchange a glance with Wes. “No. It’s about the Recruitment Initiative.”

Dean stares at me. “How do you know about this?”

“I … broke into the Facility. I had to do it, Dean—I had to know if you were connected to the Montauk Project like my grandfather always suspected.”

He presses his fingers to his temple. “I knew you were trouble,” he mumbles.

Wes makes a small sound under his breath and I turn to glare at him. He raises an eyebrow.

I turn back to Dean. “I’m not trouble,” I insist. “I’m here because of Peter.”

“My son,” Dean breathes. For the first time since I entered the room, he doesn’t look like he’s about to lose it. “Tell me about him. What kind of man is he?”

I close my eyes, picturing my grandfather. “He’s kind and he’s funny. He married young, but he always says it’s because he found the love of his life, and why would he wait around to be with her forever? And he had a son, my dad. They have a hardware store in Montauk. Grandpa always helps me with my homework, even when I can tell he doesn’t want to. He makes the best lasagna. And he always has a million things in his pockets.”

Dean chuckles. “That sounds like him.”

“He’s the most important person in my life.” My voice cracks and I blink as tears gather behind my eyes.

Wes steps forward and rests his hand on my shoulder. I reach up and touch his wrist gently. His hand tightens on mine before he lets go. I straighten and look back at Dean. He’s lighting a cigarette, though his eyes are wet.

“Grandpa spent his whole life searching for you,” I say. “He’s
always
looked for you. When I came to nineteen forty-four I knew I had to give him a chance at a life with his father again. So please take my warning seriously.”

He watches me for a moment and then nods gravely. “I will.”

Relief is like a warm blanket. I haven’t failed my grandfather. I haven’t failed the Bentleys.

Dean stands and takes a drag of his cigarette. Smoke fans out through the small space. His eyes are thoughtful as he watches how Wes stands protectively behind me.

“Who is he?” he asks, pointing his cigarette at Wes. “Did he come with you?”

“No, but—” I step forward. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

“I don’t think I like the sound of this.” He goes to sit on the edge of the desk, then motions at me to continue. “All right, out with it.”

“The Recruitment Initiative isn’t what you think it is.”

“I created the Recruitment Initiative. I know what it is. We find volunteer soldiers and civilians to travel in Tesla’s Machine. We’re perfecting the science, and we’re sending people on missions to try to change certain historical events.”

“That’s not all.” I tell him about the kidnapped children, about the torture and the brainwashing. I watch his face get darker and darker and I breathe a little easier—he didn’t know.

He stands straight, his cigarette abandoned. “You’re saying that the RI eventually starts … using children?”

I nod. “They learn that children travel more easily, and so they start kidnapping them for training. It’s already happening, Dean.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I won’t believe that’s true. I can’t believe that the program would be used like that. We’re trying to build something good here. We’re trying to learn more about the TMs so we can protect—maybe even save—our world. Dr. Faust and General Lewis wouldn’t condone that. Faust was Tesla’s protégée. They created the TM together. Faust has devoted himself completely to the Project since Tesla died last year. And General Lewis is a good man, a good soldier. We’re doing good work here.”

His voice gets firmer as he speaks, and I know he’s convinced himself that he’s right, that I must be wrong about what the Project becomes.

“I saw the children,” I say desperately. “I’ve seen what they’re doing to those lost kids already.”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Show me.”

Walking through the halls of the Facility with Dean is an entirely different experience. He has an air of authority that I know means he’s important down here, and the guards stand aside for us as we pass. Even if our presence arouses suspicions, Dean doesn’t seem to care. He wants us to show him the children. Now.

Luckily Wes knows his way around the Facility enough to remember where the room is. I’m already lost as we move through white hallway after white hallway. We walk for a minute when Dean says, “This is the scientists’ wing. I don’t come here often.” The way he says it makes me think he’s starting to believe that something isn’t right.

Wes stops in front of an unmarked door. Dean glances at me once before pushing it open. It leads to a small room. The three of us step inside.

We walk into a high, narrow observation area. It has one long glass wall that’s angled toward the ceiling; the only light comes in through the window. The rest of the space is empty and dark.

The window looks down onto an open room. Dean approaches it slowly, almost fearfully. I follow him, but Wes stays near the back wall. Just like the other day, the space is filled with tiny bodies. Dean is silent as he stares down at the gaunt, broken faces.

Suddenly he runs to the door and rips it open. “Guards!” he shouts. A man in a black uniform appears in the hallway. “Get the doctor and the general. Now.”

The guard dashes down the hall. I step back until I’m standing next to Wes. His hands are clenched into fists at his side, and I know that being in this room, so close to those children, is killing him. I brush my hand against his, and his fingers unfold, wrapping around mine.

Dean paces the room. Every once in a while he looks at me and shakes his head, like he can’t believe what’s happening. I gaze at him with sympathy, but I don’t know how to make this better for him.

The door opens. The doctor I saw through the vent enters the room, his stocky frame wrapped in a white lab coat. Behind him is a straight-backed, barrel-chested man in uniform. He’s older than both Dr. Faust and Dean, with a wide, heavily wrinkled face and a gray mustache. General Lewis.