The question surprised Darius. “Why?”
“Because we are going deep. The unit we need you to look at is a blower at kilometer six.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means we’re going two miles down, my friend. Two clicks straight down and four clicks south. Kilometer six.”
Darius felt cold. “That would put you … up against the dome. Why… I mean, what…”
Charlie shrugged and said, “My friend, the first thing you learn working here is don’t ask questions.”
The elevator ride down seemed endless.
And yet quicker than the narrow-gauge train that carried Darius along an impressive and oppressive tunnel, wide enough to accommodate two rail lines with space on either side. The tunnel was shored up at regular intervals with railroad ties.
Kilometer six turned out to be a cavern bigger than the hangar. The far end was formed by the barrier. Here it was black, not pearly gray.
“It was good luck finding this cave,” Charlie said. “Would have been a long, hard job carving it out. You know, usually we’d have a hundred guys down here. But as you can probably smell, the air is getting a bit thick.”
“That’s why I’m here, right?”
In the cave stood a tall scaffolding tilted at a strange, Leaning Tower of Pisa angle. Darius knew enough about machinery to recognize a drilling platform.
From this spot they were drilling farther still, down below the dome. Not a tunnel for humans. Just a round shaft into which a bomb could be lowered to the lowest point beneath the dome.
Charlie must have seen the look in Darius’s eyes. He gripped Darius’s arm and pulled him aside. They were alone, but Charlie whispered anyway. “Okay, you’re not a fool. You know what’s going on here. But you need to know that security watches everyone who comes in or out of this place. I mean, from now on your cell phone will be monitored, and your room may be bugged. Word to the wise.”
Darius nodded.
“What really happened to your HVAC guy?”
Charlie laughed mirthlessly. “Opened his mouth in a bar. Thirty minutes later the FBI picked him up as he was getting into his car.”
TWENTY-FOUR
14 HOURS, 2 MINUTES
ASTRID HAD MANAGED to get Cigar to follow her off the path. She worried that someone might come along—if she could get lost en route from the lake to Perdido Beach, so could others.
She found a place beside what had been the stream, hidden by a huge, dying rhododendron bush. She asked Cigar to sit down. She helped to move him into position to do so on a dirt ledge that almost formed a bench.
She sat a few feet away, careful to keep her face toward the grim-faced hill. Even now its shadow bothered her in a way she could not define.
Astrid still felt the relentless tick-tock, tick-tock urging her toward Perdido Beach. But it was possible this was even more important.
And anyway, she couldn’t leave. Not with what she had heard from Cigar.
“Bradley. I want this to be easy for you. I’m going to ask you questions. All you have to say is yes or no. Okay?”
The tiny eyeballs swerved wildly. But he said, “Okay. Why does he say your hair screams? You’re an angel with wings and shiny, shiny, and a long sword with flames and—”
“Just listen, okay?”
He nodded, and revealed a shy grin.
“You did something bad.”
“Yes,” he said solemnly.
“And they punished you by giving you to Penny for a half hour.”
“Half hour.” He giggled and his jaw twisted so hard she thought he might dislocate it. Like he was trying to break his own teeth. “Not a half hour.”
“They gave you to Penny,” Astrid repeated patiently.
“Sunrise sunset.”
At first Astrid thought he was talking about the eerie sky. Only gradually did the suspicion grow and take shape. “They put you with Penny for a full day? All day long?”
“Yes,” Cigar said, suddenly calm and sounding quite reasonable.
Astrid did not feel reasonable. What kind of creep would sentence this kid to a day with Penny? No wonder he was insane.
It occurred to her then that he had clawed his own eyes out. The image made her need to throw up. But she couldn’t do that. No.
“These new eyes,” Astrid said. “Are they from Lana?”
“Lana is an angel, too. But it touches her. It tries to take her.”
“Yes, it does,” Astrid said. “But she’s too strong.”
“Mighty!”
Astrid nodded. So he had been driven mad by Penny. And Lana had done what she could. And somehow he had ended up wandering lost out of town, all alone.
Which meant things were very bad in Perdido Beach. Cigar was one of Quinn’s fishermen, or had been when last she’d heard. “You’re one of Quinn’s fishermen, aren’t you?”
“Yay!” Cigar said, and smiled his lunatic grin while his brow furrowed into deep crevices of anxiety. “Fish. Hah, hah.”
“Now, the little boy…”
“Fish! Fish!”
“The little boy,” Astrid persisted. She reached and placed her hand over his. He reacted like he’d been shocked. He yanked his hand back and she feared he might bolt.
“Stay, Cigar. Stay. Quinn would tell you to stay and talk to me.”
“Quinn,” he said, and sobbed and finally screamed. “He came for me. He hit Penny. I couldn’t see it but I heard it—Quinn and bam and waaah and we’re going to Lana I’ll kill you witch.”