The Deep Beneath (20 page)

Other feet scuffled behind her, and she hoped that some of those feet belonged to Ian and Jack. Soon she had the sensation of going down.
We’re in an elevator
. Erika counted in her head.
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi …
She stopped counting when she got to one hundred, but they were still going down.

When they were waiting by the elevator, the air was almost cool compared to outside in the sun. But as soon as the elevator doors opened, she was hit with a blast of warm, humid, musty-smelling air.
It’s like Florida down here
.
We must be in A.H.D.N.A.

They were ordered to keep moving. The soldiers’ boots clopped on what sounded like a tile floor. Erika’s lungs were heavy with the moist air.
How does Tex survive this?

They walked for what seemed like many minutes. Erika wasn’t much for working out or exercise. Her legs ached. She wished that she had made physical fitness more of a priority. Finally they halted. It sounded as though a card was swiped through a card reader followed by beeps.

“Move it forward,” a voice said.

She walked forward. The air was less humid and cooler. It was more like a cellar than a tropical rainforest.
Are we still in A.H.D.N.A.?
They continued to trudge along for a few minutes when a voice commanded them to stop.

Another swipe and the click of a lock.

Hands at the back of her head removed the blindfold. Erika was glad to have her sight back. “Ladies first,” a voice said.

Erika blinked her eyes. They were blurry from the length of time they had been covered. She was in a long, dreary corridor dimly lit with small lights inside wire mesh located along the concrete ceiling every five feet or so. The walls, floor and ceiling were all made entirely of grey, formed concrete. There was exposed conduit along the ceiling, presumably carrying water and electricity.

Ian and Jack were indeed with her and still blindfolded. She looked to her left and saw that the door had been opened to what looked like a small, windowless jail cell. One of the guards behind her nudged her in the back with his rifle.

“Wait. Aren’t they coming with me?” Erika indicated Jack and Ian with her head.

“Commander Sturgis is treating you to luxury accommodations. Each of you gets your own room.” The guard that spoke smirked at her when he said it. “Go on,” he said.

“But what about Jack’s gunshot wound? He needs medical attention.”

“What’s she talking about?” asked one of the guards.

“Which one of them is Jack?”

Erika pointed to Jack. His color was good, not pale. The bloodstains on his shirt were the only indication he’d been shot. Though Jack seemed fine, Erika worried that the bullet lodged in his shoulder would cause a festering infection. “He was shot. In the desert, before we met … before we got picked up.”

“Shot by one of our guys?”

“No. It was before you all showed up.”

“I don’t think we need to worry ’bout –”

The soldier that had been giving Erika instructions on how to walk while blindfolded cut him off. “We need to tell Commander Sturgis ’bout it. You don’t need to worry about it,” he said to Erika.

“Don’t worry, Erika. I’m okay,” said Jack.

“No, you’re not. Tex, I mean H.A.L.F. 9, healed him as best as he could. But he said there’s still a bullet in his shoulder and he needs medical attention. We were on the way to the hospital when he forced us to drive him to Sedona.”

The guards didn’t say anything but looked at each other. Their faces seemed to soften a bit, but none of them reassured her. The gun nudged at her back again, a less than subtle hint to get herself into the waiting cell.

Erika walked forward but called over her shoulder, “Don’t worry, guys. We’ll be okay.” She hoped her voice sounded more convincing than it felt.

“And you don’t worry about us,” said Ian.

“I love you,” Jack called out. But before Erika had a chance to respond, the heavy steel windowless door closed behind her.

Only a week before, Jack had said those same words and angered Erika. As she stared at the cold metal separating her from Jack, and after the long night of facing death, it was hard to recall why she had become angry at him for loving her. She was not ready to allow herself to fall in love with Jack Wilson, but the strange night from hell had shown her that maybe someday she could.
If I ever see him again.

“Jack! Ian!” she screamed.

There was no answer. At least not one she could hear. The world outside of the roughly six-by-ten-foot cell was closed off to her.

Erika stood just inside the door. If she jumped, she may have been able to make it to the other side of the room. It held nothing but a single cot with a pillow and blanket and a urinal.
Peeing should be interesting
. Being underground, there were no windows to let in natural light. The floor, ceiling and walls were the same dull, grey concrete as the corridor outside her cell had been. There was only a single wire-mesh-wrapped bulb overhead with no apparent on/off switch in the room.

Erika walked a few feet into the center of the room and panic engulfed her. It was a rare emotion for her. She’d felt fear before. Out in the desert when Joe had her in his grip and she thought for sure that Jack and Ian would be killed. And when Commander Sturgis appeared and gave the order that they be terminated. And in the past, she had been afraid when her dad died and she was left to take care of not only herself but also her alcoholic mom, Tina.

She hadn’t panicked in any of those situations. Instead she’d pushed the fear out of the way and pressed onward. It was what her dad would have expected of her. Erika had always walked forward in life, one foot in front of the other, confronting head-on any situation and finding her way out of the bad ones. She was not one to feel helpless.

But when the steel door closed behind her, Erika felt helpless.

The cell was a cold, clammy tomb. But despite the chill, Erika’s body was covered in the slick moisture of her sweat. Her heart thumped away in her chest. It was so quiet she could hear the rush of blood in her ears.

Alone, underground and with no way out, terror seized her. Just moments before she had been so tired she could have fallen asleep while standing. Now her eyes were wide with fright. She felt wired like she’d been given a drug.
I’ll never sleep again
.

There was nothing else to do but lay on the cot. When she closed her eyes, she saw images of men wielding guns at her. She’d begin to doze off, but her overactive mind would startle her awake as soon as she dreamed.

Eventually exhaustion won out over fear, and despite the hard, dusty cot, she slept for a while. In that moment of twilight sleep just before fully waking, she dreamed of a strange guy with huge black eyes. He stared at her, and it felt like he could see into her soul. But when she awoke, that dream mixed with the reality that she’d lived, and she was unsure what was real. Erika lay with her eyes closed.
I’ll open my eyes and I’ll be back in my room.
But when her eyes fluttered open, she stared up at a single light bulb mounted in a concrete ceiling.

There was no way for Erika to reckon time. She didn’t know if she had slept for an hour or ten.
I hope they terminate me before I lose my mind
.

As soon as she had the thought, she tried to put it from her mind. Her father had said,
“Be careful what you pray for, little darlin’, cause God’s a pretty literal fella.”
She had longed for a way to escape her life in dusty, hot, going-nowhere-fast Ajo, but she had no death wish.

The solitary part of her confinement would not be much of a problem. Since her dad died five years ago, Erika had lived largely alone. When her mom had a job, she was at work. When unemployed, which was the norm, she’d hit the bars with friends or stay home and drink until she passed out. Tina had been drinking at home the night before and was likely sleeping off her bender off. She probably hadn’t even noticed Erika was missing.

Alone was not a big issue. Confinement was.

And lack of light was a bigger drawback still. Erika had been born and raised in southern Arizona, a world of abundant sunshine. She’d grown accustomed to plentiful light and wide-open spaces. If she had been stranded on a sunny desert island by herself, she would have wagered her last dime that she’d survive it. But thrust into a sunless, concrete dungeon, Erika thought death would be a welcome alternative to a lengthy stay at
Casa
Sturgis.

I’ve gotta do something to keep myself from going bat-shit crazy down here.
Erika forced herself up from the hard cot. She circled her arms and slapped them against her back to wake herself up.
Don’t give up
. It was her father’s voice more than her own.

Erika inspected the ceiling for a way out. But there was no conduit save for the thin metal one that housed the wire to the single light. She walked the perimeter of the small room, searching the walls and floor for cracks that she may be able to chip away at with her nails if she had to. The concrete was smooth and solid, though. She yanked on the urinal, holding her face away from it to shield her nose from the smell. She grunted out loud from the exertion. Erika’s sweaty hands slipped off of the smooth porcelain, and she fell onto her backside. The toilet hadn’t budged.

Erika sat on the cold, dusty floor and caught her breath. Her prison cell was airtight. There would be no escape.

A renewed surge of helplessness filled Erika, bringing hot tears to her eyes. Her cheeks were wet, and she let out a scream of frustration though she was fairly certain no one could hear her. Erika pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged them, her head resting on her knees. Tears poured out along with loud hiccups and sobs. She wiped her face, and as she pulled her hand away, she saw it.

The compass. It had been a while since Erika had paid it much attention. In the dim light of the concrete room, she stared at her palm, taking in each line of the ink drawing that was a replica of the compass her dad had given her.

It was the last time they’d gone target shooting together at the abandoned open-pit mine. Her dad had been teaching her how to shoot a gun since she was ten, and at twelve, she was finally old enough not to need his help. He was a quiet but attentive man. Erika usually did most of the talking. But that day he’d seemed like he was somewhere else. When she asked him if something was wrong, he tugged at the bill of the ball cap keeping the sun out of her eyes, smiled and said,
“Nah, nothing’s wrong. Just proud of my baby.”
He looked at her then, really looked. His eyes were intense and his face solemn. “
You’re gonna fly out of this place someday, Erika. You’re too big to stay small.”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small compass on a cheap chain. It looked like something he’d gotten out of a box of sweet popcorn snack. Her dad placed it in her hand.
“Just remember how to find your way home again. Promise?”

Erika had promised though at the time she hadn’t imagined she’d ever leave him or the small dusty town where she’d always lived. And of course, she hadn’t imagined that a few weeks later, she’d be at his funeral.

Erika closed her left hand into a fist, encircling the compass inked on her palm. She sucked in a deep breath and wiped her face with her shirt. Her dad hadn’t raised her to be a quitter.

She turned facedown on the dusty floor and forced herself to do push-ups. When her arms were wobbly and she felt as though they’d give out, she got up and ran in place. When her legs got shaky, she dropped to the floor again and forced herself to push up and down. She had no plan for how she’d escape what she assumed was either a life of confinement or death, but sleeping on a lumpy cot and crying wouldn’t help anything. Being strong would.

Erika thought of smacking the smirk off of Commander Sturgis’ face and smiled to herself as sweat dripped from her brow.

Commander Sturgis disliked punishing 9. She doubted he would ever believe that. His eyes had a hint of a blue iris unlike Alecto’s much darker, more fathomless eyes. And when she had held him, she saw nothing but hatred for her in those saucer-shaped eyes. She may be able to dampen his spirit and force him into submission. But he would never love her. Sturgis was sad at the thought but only for a moment. Everything she had worked for was at risk. She had no time to wallow in angst, so she forced the feelings away. She heard her mother’s voice in her mind.
“Stop crying, Lilly. You’re a Sturgis. It’s time you act like one.”

The commander had no plan as to how to convince the Makers to keep the H.A.L.F. project going, but she was certain that valuable and compliant H.A.L.F.s were required.
I had to teach him a lesson he will not soon forget.

She had commanded Sergeant Newcomb to carry H.A.L.F. 9 to Dr. Dolan’s office for evaluation and treatment. She didn’t trust Dolan any more than she trusted Sewell (or anyone else, for that matter). Dolan was the person most likely to have been 9’s accomplice in his escape. But she had no choice. Since Dr. Randall was gone, Dolan was the last medical doctor on staff.

Sturgis used her keycard and thumbprint to open the door to her office in Alpha quadrant. It was fairly small and unassuming. A large, grey military-issue desk. Two infrequently used burgundy-colored pleather chairs across from her desk. Her orchid was the only bit of warmth or life in the otherwise cold and dreary office. She stopped, spritzed it with water and went to her desk.

The cleanup in the desert meant a mountain of paperwork.
A huge waste of time. It will just be shredded eventually anyway.
But it had to be done. And Lilly Sturgis excelled at doing what needed to be done.

If it weren’t for a faulty heart valve, Lilly would have been an astronaut rather than a geneticist laboring on an unknown project in an unheard of facility. She would likely have been the first U.S. female to go to space. Sally Ride got that honor while Lilly ended up with a life underground.

But the assignment did not dampen her quest for a place of honor in the history books. If anything, it strengthened her resolve to prove herself.