him.
Trapped.
He and Jamie wouldn’t make it to the other side. Not enough time.
“Now what?” Jamie whispered.
Sam spun around. Just behind them was a custodial closet, blocked by a broken brown table on wheels.
He pushed aside the table. His hand grazed a jagged shard of broken metal trim. It opened a deep scrape, but Sam ignored the pain and yanked open the door. Darting inside, he pulled Jamie in and shut the door behind them.
“I’m claustrophobic,” Jamie whispered.
“I’m bleeding,” Sam replied, pressing his hand against his shirt to stanch the flow.
SMMMACK!
The exit door slammed open against the inner wall of the generator room.
Sam tried to stay silent. But his and Jamie’s breathing sounded like ungreased hacksaws.
Boots thudded on the walkway, just outside the closet.
“They’re not here!” a voice called out.
“Keep going,” cried another. “They’re down here somewhere.”
Yes. Keep going.
Yes.
“Someone check the closets,” a third voice yelled.
“I will!”
Sam’s breath caught in his throat.
“Bart,” Jamie whispered.
“What’s he doing here?” Sam whispered back.
“He must have seen me leave!”
“He followed us?”
“I don’t know! Sam, what do we do n — ”
“Ssshhh.”
The corner. Crouch. Pull a bucket over your head.
Risky.
Stand still and hope they don’t see you in the darkness.
Stupid.
Hit him with something.
Sam groped around for anything — a mop, a paint roller …
“Ow!” Jamie yelped, “that’s my foot — ”
Sam lost his balance. He fell against the back wall of the closet.
And the wall moved.
Farewell.
But the rest of the questions — are there no more questions?
This will have to do. You are fading.
14
S AM PUSHED AGAIN. A corner of the wall was swiveling on some kind of fulcrum. “Come on. There must be a room back here.”
“I’m not going in there!” Jamie whispered.
TWHOCK-TWHOCK-TWHOCK-TWHOCK the approaching footsteps sounded.
Jamie leaned against the wall, hard.
It swung open, leaving a space just big enough for them to slip through. They entered a room of some kind, pitch-black and cold.
Sam and Jamie pushed the wall back. It returned to its old position with a soft thump.
“There’s blood on the knob!” Bart shouted. “They’re in here.”
Sam cringed. Couldn’t you have SEEN that metal edge, Hughes?
Light entered through the thin crack where the swinging wall was hinged.
“HEY!” shouted Bart through the wall, inches away from them.
“Did you find them?” a more distant voice called.
Sam and Jamie heard Bart poking around, crashing against the wall, pulling things away.
THUMP.
The wall moved.
Jamie and Sam backed away.
“Ow,” Bart exclaimed. “Nope. But one of them’s bleeding. So keep an eye out for stains.”
The closet door slammed shut, suddenly muffling the voices beyond it.
The footsteps receded into silence.
Gone.
“That fat, pinheaded tub of pork sushi — ” Jamie muttered.
Sam let out a breath and slumped against the wall.
EEEP … EEEP … EEEP … EEEP …
Until that moment, Sam hadn’t noticed the soft beeping noise behind him.
“Uh, let’s get out of here,” he said, feeling around for a handle.
Jamie joined him. “How do you pull this thing open?”
Sam’s fingers brushed against a light switch.
He flicked it upward. Two overhead strips lit up.
The door handle was right in front of him. He clasped with his good hand and pulled.
The door was heavy. “Jamie, can you — ”
But Jamie was standing rock-still, her back to the wall. Staring into the room.
Sam turned.
They were in a lab. Bigger than Lab 6 and windowless. Except for the area of the swivel door, the walls were covered floor to ceiling with electronic equipment. It felt like the inside of some high-tech submarine.
At the center was a table nearly obscured by three rolling carts. On the table, under a black blanket, was a body.
“Oh my god …” Sam murmured.
“I …
Trapped.
He and Jamie wouldn’t make it to the other side. Not enough time.
“Now what?” Jamie whispered.
Sam spun around. Just behind them was a custodial closet, blocked by a broken brown table on wheels.
He pushed aside the table. His hand grazed a jagged shard of broken metal trim. It opened a deep scrape, but Sam ignored the pain and yanked open the door. Darting inside, he pulled Jamie in and shut the door behind them.
“I’m claustrophobic,” Jamie whispered.
“I’m bleeding,” Sam replied, pressing his hand against his shirt to stanch the flow.
SMMMACK!
The exit door slammed open against the inner wall of the generator room.
Sam tried to stay silent. But his and Jamie’s breathing sounded like ungreased hacksaws.
Boots thudded on the walkway, just outside the closet.
“They’re not here!” a voice called out.
“Keep going,” cried another. “They’re down here somewhere.”
Yes. Keep going.
Yes.
“Someone check the closets,” a third voice yelled.
“I will!”
Sam’s breath caught in his throat.
“Bart,” Jamie whispered.
“What’s he doing here?” Sam whispered back.
“He must have seen me leave!”
“He followed us?”
“I don’t know! Sam, what do we do n — ”
“Ssshhh.”
The corner. Crouch. Pull a bucket over your head.
Risky.
Stand still and hope they don’t see you in the darkness.
Stupid.
Hit him with something.
Sam groped around for anything — a mop, a paint roller …
“Ow!” Jamie yelped, “that’s my foot — ”
Sam lost his balance. He fell against the back wall of the closet.
And the wall moved.
Farewell.
But the rest of the questions — are there no more questions?
This will have to do. You are fading.
14
S AM PUSHED AGAIN. A corner of the wall was swiveling on some kind of fulcrum. “Come on. There must be a room back here.”
“I’m not going in there!” Jamie whispered.
TWHOCK-TWHOCK-TWHOCK-TWHOCK the approaching footsteps sounded.
Jamie leaned against the wall, hard.
It swung open, leaving a space just big enough for them to slip through. They entered a room of some kind, pitch-black and cold.
Sam and Jamie pushed the wall back. It returned to its old position with a soft thump.
“There’s blood on the knob!” Bart shouted. “They’re in here.”
Sam cringed. Couldn’t you have SEEN that metal edge, Hughes?
Light entered through the thin crack where the swinging wall was hinged.
“HEY!” shouted Bart through the wall, inches away from them.
“Did you find them?” a more distant voice called.
Sam and Jamie heard Bart poking around, crashing against the wall, pulling things away.
THUMP.
The wall moved.
Jamie and Sam backed away.
“Ow,” Bart exclaimed. “Nope. But one of them’s bleeding. So keep an eye out for stains.”
The closet door slammed shut, suddenly muffling the voices beyond it.
The footsteps receded into silence.
Gone.
“That fat, pinheaded tub of pork sushi — ” Jamie muttered.
Sam let out a breath and slumped against the wall.
EEEP … EEEP … EEEP … EEEP …
Until that moment, Sam hadn’t noticed the soft beeping noise behind him.
“Uh, let’s get out of here,” he said, feeling around for a handle.
Jamie joined him. “How do you pull this thing open?”
Sam’s fingers brushed against a light switch.
He flicked it upward. Two overhead strips lit up.
The door handle was right in front of him. He clasped with his good hand and pulled.
The door was heavy. “Jamie, can you — ”
But Jamie was standing rock-still, her back to the wall. Staring into the room.
Sam turned.
They were in a lab. Bigger than Lab 6 and windowless. Except for the area of the swivel door, the walls were covered floor to ceiling with electronic equipment. It felt like the inside of some high-tech submarine.
At the center was a table nearly obscured by three rolling carts. On the table, under a black blanket, was a body.
“Oh my god …” Sam murmured.
“I …
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