The Dark Water (10 page)

JIMMY

JIMMY STARES AT THE DOOR MARKED WITH THE NUMBER
4
. Inside, he knows, are all sorts of nasty things. Viruses, poisons, death in a jar. Each gathered so the Westbrook alums could experiment with the water. It's this place where Sutton must have thought up the virus that's ravaging Westbrook.

Odessa's holding the pistol in her hand like she was born to. Though he doubts she knows how to use it. He doesn't know anything about guns either, not really. He was never into the whole hunting thing. And even though he can tell the difference between a 12-gauge and a deer rifle, it's not like people have been showing him their handguns. They're called concealed weapons for a reason.

Maybe the best move would be to suit back up and grab some super-serious virus and infect Sutton and his men. Of course, Sutton and his team have the water now. And clearly it's capable of stopping a virus. Jimmy finds himself looking at his massive hands. Get the water, save the day. That's the plan.

So the options are simple. Find a way out and get help, or find Sutton and shut him down. Jimmy remembers the sheriff cruisers outside, but he's not sure whether they were confronting the soldiers or helping them. Maybe the police were fooled into thinking Sutton's men were legit, and that they're here for an outbreak. Shouldn't be too hard, what with the way everyone in Fenton gossips about the Cave.

Jimmy's not the type to pass up on heroics, but he's also not flying solo. He has Odessa to think about. Just watching her hold that gun, the steady hand but shaky breaths, he knows the right move is getting help from the outside, however he can.

He takes Odessa's chin in his hand and gently focuses her. Her eyes are dazed, but zoom in on him. She's here now. Jimmy can't really remember a time back at Westbrook when she gave him this much attention. It's hard not to revel in it.

“Follow me?” he asks. He doesn't order.

She nods.

He inspects the machine gun he took from the soldier, and looks for the lever that people are always pulling back in movies. He finds it and pulls and it gives a satisfying
kachunk
when cocked.

“You know how to use that?” Odessa asks. No joking, no smiles.

“How hard can it be?” Jimmy grins.

She shakes her head, but he doesn't mind. He jiggles the heavy gun in his hand. No problem.

They exit the lab moving slowly, Odessa keeping a lookout at their rear. Jimmy doesn't know where they're going, but he knows that if he keeps looking, he'll find it. That's good enough. Everything has to be good enough now.

They hit a T junction and take a right, and about ten feet later, Odessa fires behind them, the shot so sudden and loud he nearly drops the machine gun. She's screaming and runs by him to hide behind his back.

Jimmy curses, and stares at the soldier splayed awkwardly on the floor. Jimmy's about to go see if he's okay when the soldier pulls out his own pistol with shaking hands and shoots him. Or he tries to. Instead, the bullet smacks the wall next to Jimmy's head. When he pulls the trigger it's as much reflex as self-defense. The machine gun's so much stronger than he expected, like ten of his offensive linemen punching him all at once in the arm. The bullets spark on the ground and against the wall but not into the soldier—not that he sees. Jimmy pants, about to shoot again. He knows he should finish the soldier off, but then he'd be a killer. He doesn't want to be.

They run for a while with no destination in mind. When Odessa stops, she's breathing hard, her red hair all over the place.

“You okay?” Jimmy asks her, watching her wide blue eyes tear up. Her cheeks are flushed and her lip are pressed so hard together you can barely see them. “It's okay, Dess. You saved us back there. You did the right thing.” But she's not paying attention. She's staring at an open door. It's the Map Room. And Chuck, the other Westbrook alum running this place, is lying knocked out or dead on the floor.

“Do you see that?” Odessa asks.

“Yeah, he needs to get to a hospital.”

“No, Jimmy, look at the map!”

He does, but can't see anything special. It's just as strange as it was before, filled with pale skinny dudes and waterfalls.

“I don't get it.”

“There's tons different! You don't see it?” She looks at him skeptically. “That one there, the water's flowing, for one, when it used to be a black hole. That makes sense, in a crazy magical way, cause there
is
water now. But look at that city, it's got a ring of fire around it now. I swear that wasn't there before. And the waterfall is smaller. And the last image, that image within the image—the map within the map—it's black. The map's changed!”

“How's that possible?” he asks.

“No idea,” Odessa says. She's ready to step into the room to investigate the map further, but Jimmy knows they don't have time for this. He takes her arm.

“Let's worry about ourselves for a moment,” he says, looking around. “We're back up in the center of the Cave. Where's the greenhouses and the back entrance?”

Just then they hear voices, boot steps.

“Behind the map. Hurry!” he whispers, and pushes her into the room. They step over Chuck and dive behind the enormous map. It's in the center of the room and hung in place, so the best they can do is crouch behind it and hope no one decides to walk into the room. Jimmy gets his gun ready, and takes Odessa's pistol from her shaky hands and puts it into his waistband. She doesn't even seem to notice.

The voices get louder. Veronica. And Sutton.

“. . . sure what you were trying to accomplish. You have to stop this now.”

“Don't you think I know that?” Sutton replies. They're in the hallway, almost to the door. The Doppler effect in full force.

“Then
do
something,” she replies. “Grab a ten-gallon jug of the water and send your men out and help everyone. And give some to Chuck.”

“Screw Chuck. The condescending bastard,” he says, stopping at the door, probably to look at his former colleague. “He can rot in there.” Jimmy can hear a few other footsteps pulling up. Must be a couple guards with them.

“There's not much I can do now—I meant . . .” He pauses to gather himself. “I meant for this to be easy, you know? Greg's too stubborn.”

“Blake, that's bullshit. You've
killed
people. Hundreds of them, maybe. This could get worse, this could get catastrophic!”

“How was I supposed to know our hazmat suits wouldn't stop the virus? We were supposed to contain it at Westbrook.”

Jimmy can almost see Veronica throwing up her hands in disgust. “That doesn't matter now, Blake. You can
do
something.”

“There's no more time, Veronica,” he says. “It's too late.” For a moment it's so quiet it's hard to believe they're still standing there. “Listen, Greg went into the well for the source . . . It's
real,
just like he said. And I need it.”

There's a loud noise. Sutton grunts. Then Veronica cries out in pain. She slapped him and what, a guard clocked her? Jimmy tightens his hands around the gun. Odessa shakes her head no and grabs his arm.

“Hey!” Sutton shouts at one of the guards. “Don't touch her.”

“Leave me alone,” Veronica yells, and Jimmy would like to think it's because she's refusing Sutton's help. “You can't just run off, Blake. Your quarantine didn't work. Whatever it is you are trying to prove has gotten out of hand. So you have to fix things. Now, as much as it pains me to say it,
you
are the only one who can save us.” Her voice softens. “I know you. I
know
you, Blake. Please.”

It's quiet. Jimmy's heard that tone of voice before. It's the same one his mom uses on his dad after a fight. Not surprising, considering that these two used to be married.

“Fine,” Sutton says, relief palpable in his voice, as if he were wrestling with himself and his better side won. “Gutierrez,” he barks in a commander's tone, “get down to the well and take as much water as you can carry and go straight to Furbish Manor. Hand out water to the boys and then get to Westbrook.” He pauses, his voice sounding weary. “Last report was that a group of kids barricaded themselves up in a dorm and haven't been infected yet. Distribute the water, just a few drops per person. I want you radioing everyone left to come in on rotation and get their share, then report to me here at the Cave. Everyone gets, no exceptions, understood?”

“Yessir!” Gutierrez shouts, and then he's gone, his boots squeaking on the floor. Jimmy and Odessa share a smile, the news about their surviving classmates a ray of hope.

“Happy?” Sutton asks.

“No,” Veronica replies. “But it's a start.”

“I can't deal with it myself. I need the source,” Sutton says.

“I thought you sent your little Judas for it,” she sneers. Jimmy's blood boils at the reference to Brayden. He replays the image of Sutton ordering him to jump in the well.

“I don't want to take any chances.”

“Then what're you going to do?”

A pause. “We're gonna go get it.”

• • •

“What now?” Odessa asks after their footsteps recede.

“I don't know,” Jimmy says, racing through options. He was never very good at this part—the brainstorming.

“Sutton's sending out water, so we're okay, right?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “What if it's spread to Fenton? What if our parents have it?”

“But they're going to follow Mia and the others. They're going to go after them.”

Jimmy wonders, not for the first time, where they went. Must be an underground cave or something that they swam to.

“We can't do anything about that,” he says. “We need to get some water ourselves to help others, and then get out. Find our parents, tell people. Call CNN.”

Odessa runs her hand through her brush-fire hair. “How do we do that? I don't know where the well is.”

Jimmy only knows two people here who do.

• • •

It doesn't take long to catch up to the sound of the boot steps and the voices. They sound muffled, but Jimmy resists the urge to get close enough to hear. That would be stupid.

After a time, the voices fade.
Stay back,
he motions to Odessa, then sneaks a peek around the corner. It's the elevator they used yesterday to get to the well, down at the end of a bright corridor. The door's been wrenched open, exposing an empty shaft, and Jimmy sees the top of a ladder propped against the entrance.

“We're there,” Jimmy whispers. “The elevator's busted.”

“What now, then?”

“Give me a sec.” He frowns, then tiptoes to the shaft and glances down the open hatch in the top of the elevator. The inside is scarred black, from some sort of fire, and a ladder reaches through the opening all the way to the floor.

“If we go down that, we're cornered,” Odessa says, leaning out over the edge, holding his arm to get a better look.

“But that's where the water is,” Jimmy says.

“I know, I know. Okay, I got an idea—”

But she never gets a chance to say anything. There's a
clang
below them, someone climbing the ladder. Odessa turns to run, but Jimmy grabs her arm and pulls her back.

“What?” she mouths, her blue eyes flashing.

He makes shushing motions and lays himself carefully down on his belly, aiming the gun right at the head of the ladder. He waves behind him for her to move back, and she finally does, far enough away that he can't see her. He can't see anything really, nothing beyond the end of his gun. The ladder rings louder, step by step, and then he sees one hand, and another. Adult, male, trimmed nails and dirty fingers. Jimmy tightens his grip on the gun.

A black knit cap tops the ridge, then a pair of eyes.

“Shout and I'll kill ya,” Jimmy whispers.

The eyes stare for a beat, then the hat nods.

“Come on, keep coming. Slow, hands where I can see them.”

The soldier climbs. Dark eyes, round jaw, tight black gear. He has a large backpack that's open, its maw stuffed with bottles full of water.

“Gutierrez?” Jimmy guesses, recalling the name of the man Sutton ordered to grab water.

An eyebrow raises. Jimmy remembers, suddenly, that he looks ten years older than this guy. That's why he's getting real respect. The gun helps, of course, but who's holding it matters just as much.

“I want you to follow me, quietly. Got that?”

Gutierrez nods. The problem, Jimmy realizes, is that the narrow hallway isn't exactly conducive to this move. If Gutierrez passes him here, there'd only be a foot or so between him and the gun. Too close for comfort.

“Odessa, you there?” Jimmy calls as loudly as he dares.

“Yeah, Jimmy.”

“Check the hallway, make sure no one's behind us. Find me a room. Quickly.”

She doesn't even reply, just squeaks away.

Jimmy and Gutierrez keep a wary eye on each other. In movies, this is where the professional soldier calmly steps forward and takes the gun from the amateur's hand, then explains that the safety is on. Jimmy knows the safety's off, but he's still sweating. He doesn't want to shoot anyone. He wonders, idly, if he could push Gutierrez into the elevator shaft and somehow keep the bag of water bottles if he had to.

“I got one,” Odessa says behind him, her voice low and urgent.

“Okay, this is what I want,” Jimmy says, trying to channel his outer adult. “I'm going to walk backward and you're going to follow, your hands raised, and that's all you're gonna do, got it?”

Gutierrez nods, but he also runs his eyes over Jimmy, sizing him up. Jimmy doesn't like that, he can almost feel the calculations going on in the soldier's head.