The Dark Water (11 page)

Jimmy walks backward, desperately hoping Odessa is watching and will tell him if he's about to hit a wall. He hits the intersection and feels Odessa's hand on his back, like he's docking gently into a space station.

They reach an open door, not twenty yards later, and Jimmy orders Gutierrez in. He feels a small moment of triumph. It's like he just won a level of a game: “Get the bad guy down the hall while walking backward.” It's a storage closet, loaded with mops, brooms, cleaning supplies, metal shelves and stacked chairs. “Give me the backpack.”

Gutierrez takes it off slowly, and risks speaking for the first time. “What do you want with these? I need them. People will die.”

Jimmy pauses. “I know, and I want you to follow your orders as soon as you can. But I need the water too, and I'm not about to go down that elevator shaft. I'm taking the water to Fenton, to make sure everyone's okay there.”

“But there's no one sick in Fenton,” Gutierrez insists, shaking his head, his voice unsure.

“You don't want to be here, do you?” Odessa asks, surprising them both. She's staring hard at Gutierrez, as intimidating as a woman in scrubs and slippers can be.

He doesn't reply, but watches her carefully. The room feels suddenly smaller. Jimmy feels the weight of the gun in his hand.

“You were hired by Sutton for what? To guard the school?”

“We didn't know what he was gonna do,” Gutierrez admits.

“Doesn't that matter?”

“Not to some.”

“But it does to you?” she asks.

He shrugs, like a little boy admitting his guilt. He puts his hand on a shelf to steady himself, but all Jimmy sees is the Raid bug spray nearby. This room is full of MacGyver-style weapons.

“Okay here's what's gonna happen,” Odessa continues, not missing a beat. “I'm gonna take this water, and Jimmy here's going to guard you. In five minutes, Jimmy'll let you go, and you'll just follow your original orders to bring water to Westbrook all over again. Clear?”

“What are you doing?” Jimmy asks. “Don't split us up.”

“Saving as many people as we can,” she replies. Her face is hard. “Oh, come on, Jimmy. How else are we gonna get out of here? If we let him go now he'll run to Sutton and we'll get caught.” She wheels on Gutierrez: “And do you
really
think Fenton is okay, when the virus spreads through hazmat suits? Get your head on straight.”

Chastised, Gutierrez looks away from her.

“You sure there's no one sick in Fenton?” Jimmy asks.

Gutierrez's quiet. “Not from the last report.”

“But you don't know.”

He shakes his head.

Odessa jumps in. “You want to save your soldier friends at Furbish Manor, right? You actually want to help the kids at Westbrook?” Gutierrez stares her down. He doesn't like being spoken to that way. She's not phased though. It's clear the soldier's uncomfortable with Sutton and what he's doing.

“Then pretend we never existed.”

She hefts the backpack and steps close to Jimmy. “You'll come after me, right?”

“I want to go
with
you,” he whines. This, to him, is far from the plan.

“Jimmy, there's no way we'd get the water, aside from this, right here right now. We
have
to take it. And then you
have
to let him go. Even if he sounds the alarm. If he doesn't get water out there too, everyone's screwed. We need each other.”

“Girly,” Gutierrez pipes up. “I'm not gonna tell.”

Odessa considers, but shakes her head. “I can't afford to believe you. Jimmy, just watch him for ten minutes. Give me enough time to get ahead, okay?”

“You sure?” he says, feeling absolutely helpless. Just a week ago she'd have wanted to Instagram this.

She smiles, slapping the water-filled backpack. “What can hurt me?” Then she turns to Gutierrez. “Hey, flyboy. Which way's out?”

He nods his head to the right, as if that's really helpful. And then she's gone. Just gone.

Jimmy pulls a plastic chair from a stack and sits there, watching Gutierrez and trying his darnedest to hear Odessa's footsteps recede down the hallway.

LISA'S GONE. TO DIVERT THE GUARDS, SHE SAID. BUT
it's odd having the run of the place. We tiptoe through what is essentially Randt's throne room. It's like sneaking around the principal's office. But true to her word, no one's around as we ghost to the foyer. In fact, there's no noise at all aside from our steps. It's unnerving.

The trickiest part is activating the elevator, even with Lisa's instructions. The keys are in another language, like the cursive version of the hieroglyphics on the map. Lisa told Rob what to look for—a tall tree and a man with a fire at his feet, both separate buttons—but now that we're here, the air drafting up from below, urgency beating in our hearts, finding these images is like playing memory with cards. There are hundreds of them, as if the elevator was built to fly into space.

“There it is,” Jo says, pointing at a tree. But Rob stops her hand and says, “No way, look. That's a
small
tree. That's not even the same type of tree that Lisa described.”

“Wow, thanks, Odessa,” I say with mock admiration, comparing him to our genius botanist who's back in the Cave.

Rob smiles, but doesn't answer as his finger quickly traces the line of glyphs. He's good at this stuff, I know, almost bred for it, what with the hours of online gaming, the coding he does. I hear voices; one of them might be Lisa's. “Hurry, Rob,” I say. What if he gets it wrong? Will an alarm sound? Will we go to a random floor? Will we just sit here smiling while a troop of Keepers storms in with their fighting ribbons?

“Got 'em,” he whispers, triumphant. He presses a tree image, one that, for me, is hard to distinguish from what Jo pointed at, and then a man on fire and suddenly we're moving, the elevator descending as smoothly as it rose and then just as suddenly stopping. We only went down maybe thirty feet, and are at the edge of a dark and empty foyer, encased in shadows, just like Lisa said.

“Hurry,” I say, and jump from the elevator. Jo joins me but Rob's still on the elevator, futzing with the glyphs.

“Rob, come on! No time!”

“We have to send the elevator back,” he says, whispering harshly. My fear spikes. He's right. What a basic thing to forget. The guards will come out to get the elevator and see that it was parked one floor below and there goes our surprise.

Rob pushes a couple buttons and sprints toward the edge but before he takes three steps, the elevator begins moving, rising up quickly. Rob trips and lands on his stomach, halfway off the elevator, his arms dangling over the side.

“No!” Jo shrieks in horror, rushing ahead to grab him. I'm right beside her. If the elevator keeps going, Rob will be cut in half by the ceiling as the elevator zooms upward. I jump, take his left hand and immediately lose my grip, falling hard on my ass. Jo's got his right hand, though, and she flings herself backward. Rob slides off and into her lap and they lie breathing hard, but alive. My whole body shakes with relief.

“That was supposed to be the easy part,” I say, and Rob and Jo laugh. Rob pats his body over and over to make sure he's in one piece.

We hear voices above again—Lisa instigating part two of the escape. That's why we're here. Apparently, Randt left the floor we're on empty to give to Lisa when she's ready to take a husband. Part one: Lisa somehow persuades the penthouse guards that she didn't lie to them. But we can't just go down to the garden, because the Keepers there would see us. Part two: Lisa goes ahead of us to clear the way.

The elevator descends, very quickly, and from the shadows we can see the two guards on the platform with Lisa, heading down, her hair leaving a trail of neon blue behind her.

The emptiness of the dark room is unnerving, and we sit with our backs to it, looking out on the atrium, waiting for five minutes to pass. My body's tense, wired to go. It feels like that moment back at Furbish Manor, when we were lined up against the wall before running through the firefight and into the woods. Brayden was there, but that was the beginning of his betrayal. Just a hundred feet away his parents were bound, gagged, locked up in the basement and he was let go.

Finally, Rob gets up and calls the elevator, which begins its upward climb once again. “Now we just take this down and hide in the trees directly in front of the elevator. Or that's what Lisa said. Sounds easy enough.”

“How's she supposed to clear the courtyard?” Jo asks, getting on the elevator.

“I don't know, Jo,” Rob says. “She's a princess. She gets what she wants.”

Jo doesn't say anything. She looks over the edge as we move. It's fast, like last time, and my hair whips into my face. It smells oily, feels oily. I almost moan aloud trying to calculate when I might get my next shower.
If
I get one.

The elevator stops, and for a moment I'm certain there'll be fifty Keepers strolling about, but Lisa is as good as her word, and there's no one in sight. The gardens are big and spread out and there is, indeed, a clump of thin but leafy trees not thirty feet from the elevator.

We sprint to the relative safety of the branches, tucking down to make ourselves small. I'd rather not be wearing white, which stands out against the trees. The bark is black, corkscrew and thick, and the leaves are lined with the same familiar shine as the glowflowers. Quiet, our breath settling, I can hear birdcalls. Water flow. And then, suddenly, the steady pacing of someone walking. I can't see or tell who. I feel as helpless as I've ever been.

The footsteps get closer. I squeeze my eyes shut, for once just trying to disappear.

“Rob?” comes a tentative voice.

“Lisa!” Rob whispers. I open my eyes to see a shock of blue; she's ducked at the waist and peering into our hiding place. It's normally hard to read the Keepers' expressions, but there's no missing the alarm written across her face. She's not having as much fun as she was back in the penthouse planning this all.

“We have to hurry at the moment,” she says, peering back over her shoulder. There's a shout from the way she came and through the trees I get a glimpse of a dozen or so Keepers running in all directions, a hornet's nest of yellows and blues, all looking for us.

“This way,” Lisa says. She runs fast through the garden, fast enough that we all have to strain to keep up. There's another shout and maybe someone's seen us but we don't stop, and soon we're into the city's underground tunnels. We move through the tunnels in bursts of speed, and then random standstills in doorways as we wait for armed Keepers dressed in Feileen's black and white to sprint by. Now that we're out of Randt's tower, Lisa's in new territory, but she never seems to hesitate, and moves unerringly toward wherever we're going. I guess she has Capian's blueprint seared in her mind.

“Lisa,” I say, “you're taking us to my dad, right?”

“Yes, Mia. We go to the Lock. Keepers who are unfaithful to the water are put there.”

“How do you know where that is, if you haven't been out?”

“There's a big difference, friend, between being allowed out and going out.” She grins, but turns pensive. “Of course, we might have to subjugate the guards.”

“Subjugate?” Jo responds, sharing a glance with Rob and me.

“Did I use the word wrongly?” Lisa asks, her voice clearly pained. “We will have to overcome them.”

“Knock them out?” Jo says, incredulous, and I agree. I think about Straoc, about how big he is, and about how impossible knocking out one of these semi-immortals would be.

“Yes, Jo. We cannot take their lives before their natural time, so we must bring them as far from awareness as possible, so that the water might still bring them back.” She says it gravely, at once innocent and earnest, like she understands what she's saying but only in theory.

Rob holds up his hands to look at them, unsure they can do what she's asking. “I don't know, Lisa. Can you distract the guards? Get them out of there or something?”

Lisa closes her eyes, which is a striking thing. Her face becomes more Topsider than ever, her blue hair cool and perfect, and I see that she's quite a pretty girl. My stomach feels queasy at what we've got to do, as if I didn't have enough to worry about.

When she opens her eyes again she looks resigned, as if we just made her job harder. “It must be done. I will approach the guards, you will not let them touch the water,” she says, jiggling the pouch at her belt. She takes off again and we follow because there's no better option. We're all amateurs here.

• • •

We reach the prison suddenly, stopping abruptly enough that I'm surprised. Lisa seems to be too, though, because the heavy metal door that she stops at is wide open. The Lock's entrance is situated at a bend in the tunnel, with two bright torches on either side. The walls glitter in the torchlight, and we can't see a thing past the flickering light. The door is black and gaping.

“This should not be usual,” she murmurs. “You should stay here.” Without waiting for us to answer, she disappears inside.

But it's bright out here. And we can hear the sound of voices, of footsteps, of heavily trafficked routes nearby. “I don't know about you,” I say, “but I'd rather get off the road than be standing with our thumbs out when a group of guards come back.”

“Agreed,” Rob says, and we follow him inside to near blackness. There's a hallway I can make out that goes on for a while, but I can't see much else. There are no gas lamps in here. No glowflowers. The room feels hot, sweat lodge style. I wait a beat, letting my eyes adjust, but still can't really see anything. I hold Jo's and Rob's hands and we shuffle ahead. I feel like I'm in a haunted house.

I'm about to call Lisa's name when she bursts into view, inches from our faces. We scream, all three of us, loud and scared, and I almost pull Rob's arm from its socket.

“Now is not the best time for those noises,” Lisa says, her face worried.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Jo replies.

“I am sorry, Jo.”

“Where's my dad?” I ask.

Her eyes dart around behind us, her movements jerky and filled with unease. “I think he is farther. But I found the guards, and they are not alive,” she says, her voice rising in panic. She puts her hands to her forehead and moans. “More dead and more death. More dead and more death.”

“Was it Straoc?” Jo asks.

Lisa takes a few shuddering breaths to gather herself. “Maybe,” she says. “But I have known Straoc for the entirety of my life. He is . . .” She pauses. “He never hurt me.”

“Where are they? Where are the guards?” I ask.

Lisa doesn't reply, just motions ahead, and we move farther into the dark. The hallway is lined with doors, and the first one is ajar, kept open by a shadowed, muscled foot.

“There is another floor,” Lisa says. “I saw stairs at the end of this hallway. We should keep looking.”

“Lisa,” I ask. “Do you have a light?”

Her shape, now just a shadow before us, pauses. “I have my eyes. Stay close.”

Jo squeezes my hand and we creep slowly down the hallway, following the bare shaft of light that is Lisa as she guides us farther into the prison. We walk unsteadily down steps, and for the first time I'm beginning to pick up a smell, something unclean and sweaty, like the air itself is dirtier down here.

But there
is
a light. It comes from an open door maybe halfway down this hallway. Not especially bright, and it flickers, but I can see and that gives me strength. Rob and Jo let go of me. The light makes us brave enough to walk on our own.

I put my hand in my plastic pocket and pull the knife. Jo gives me a look, and I shrug. I'm not going in there unarmed.

Lisa starts moving slower, barely making a sound. She is peeking around the edge of the door when we hear a voice I know very well. It's loud and ragged and desperate.

“Please, please stop. Don't do this!”

“Dad,” I whisper, and unable to help myself, I leap into the room, my knife clenched tight, ready for everything and nothing at all.

But it's not what I'm expecting.

Dad's there, yes, but he's in a corner of the room, crouched, his face swollen and mottled in colors, blood dripping from his mouth and nose. His knees are curled up to his chest and his hand is in the air, begging. But he's not begging for himself.

In the center of the room, lying faceup on a wooden table, is Brayden. He's pale, a rivulet of blood dripping down his cheek from the corner of his mouth like half the Joker's smile. My stomach lurches and I almost drop the knife. Behind him, facing us, Straoc stands in the flickering light of a gas lamp. The scroll was wrong, he's not hurt at all. Next to him, there's a small birdbath of water. He has his own knife, a big beast of a thing, slick with blood.

My eyes adjust to the light, and I can see the cuts now. Dozens of them scored across Brayden's forearms. Two thick ones on his cheeks, as if he were a bloody football player. His eyes are closed, his body slack. He could be dead for all I know.

Straoc's stunned at our arrival. He looks sharply at Lisa and barks at her in their own language. For her part, Lisa manages to stay fairly strong in the face of his yelling. She points at Dad and says something. Straoc clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“Mia,” Dad croaks. He makes to rise but Straoc casually steps over, plants his foot in the middle of his chest and pushes him back down.

“Let him go,” I yell, my voice cracking. I raise my knife, but my hand's shaking.

“You Topsiders work fast to have so quickly corrupted a Keeper, the daughter of Randt no less,” Straoc says to us, his tone more annoyed than anything.

“I brought them here of my own mind,” Lisa spits. “But I did not know we would find
this.
I will tell my father and you will be cast from the clan.”