Hal glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then he carefully slid the steak knife onto his lap. Wrapped it up in the cloth napkin and slid it into his back pocket. He was pretty sure the waitress wouldn’t notice that a knife was missing when she cleared the table, and if she did she probably wouldn’t say anything anyway. After all, she was a prisoner, too.
He was just having soup and salad tonight. Didn’t want a heavy dinner weighing him down or making him drowsy. Not tonight.
The soup was good—potato and leek. He slurped away while casting his eyes around the dining room.
Several tables over, Keith was having dinner with a young lady. She was around thirty, buxom and shapely. Hal remembered her—one of the girls from the bordello. Patsy? He’d been with her twice. Kind of a sweetie, not the typical whore.
Which she wasn’t, of course. Hal remembered her telling him that before she came to Emerald City, she’d been a waitress. She and three other girls were snatched off a street in San Francisco late at night after they’d finished work. All three of them real lookers, perfect candidates for the underground bordello. Thrown into a van and drugged. When they woke up, they were already in their new quarters.
Hal liked her. She’d been a good fuck, and was a good conversationalist. But that was where it ended for him.
Patsy had seemed lonely, and he tried his best to make her feel better about her new lease on life. Tried to get her to just accept it and make the best of it that she could. And also urged her, just like he’d urged Keith, to get educated in something so she could eventually crawl out of the sleazy bordello.
He remembered that she’d been living in a kind of dream existence—not accepting that this was permanent. She seemed to think that one day soon the cavalry would come roaring in and save them.
Hal told her in no uncertain terms that the cavalry was already here. That her captors were the cavalry. She didn’t seem to grasp that, or at least wouldn’t allow herself to grasp that.
Not until Hal told her about his own role on 9/11.
She’d only arrived in Emerald City in 2010, so just like others who had been brought there in the years after the Twin Towers disaster, she was well familiar with that news event. The ones who had been there prior to 9/11 only knew about it by listening to the more recent arrivals—since there was no outside news allowed inside the underground dungeon.
So, Patsy had truly believed the official story that nineteen Muslim hijackers had taken over four jumbo jetliners with measly box cutters.
She truly believed, just like the rest of the world did, that two planes had smashed into the Twin Towers, that a third one had crashed into the Pentagon, and that a fourth had been taken over by passengers and nosedived into a field in Pennsylvania.
She believed all that crap until Hal burst her little bubble, telling her that he had been the pilot of United 175 and that it was sitting right at their fingertips, parked in the underground hanger of Emerald City. He remembered the look in her eyes, the look of absolute shock and disbelief.
Yes, she was one of the many who couldn’t grasp that their government could have done such a horrific thing to its own people.
To reinforce his argument, Hal introduced her to several of the flight attendants and passengers from his flight. They told her the same story. At that point, Patsy became a believer. She stopped living in a panacea, thinking naively that the cavalry was coming.
While Hal was not in the habit of deliberately hurting people’s feelings, he did believe in tough love. That the only way people could survive and fight for themselves was if they knew the truth, be that truth good or bad. Everyone he came in contact with in Emerald City needed help in some way—and he did his level best to help them all.
Not because he had any particular missionary zeal, but more because he cared about people being able to make the best of their situations. Despite the fact that he’d snuffed out more souls than he could remember, he did care about people. The good people. The innocent people.
He could be ruthless when he had to be, but he could also be caring when the situation demanded it. And he’d been through scarier times in his life than most innocents could ever dream of in their worst nightmares. So, he was better equipped than most.
Keith glanced over in Hal’s direction and waved. Hal waved back, smiling inside. It was kinda cute seeing the two of them dining together. Only in Emerald City would a man have no qualms about being seen out in public with a hooker.
Everything was different down here. The morals weren’t puritan, nor were they loose or fake either. People just understood that their lives were doomed and that sexual comfort was no longer a back-alley pastime like it was up above in the real world.
Life was just far too short now and far too hopeless for making judgements on others. The camaraderie was also more sincere because the desperation and isolation were real issues. Everyone just threw away the book here. There were no hopes, no dreams, and there wasn’t a chance in hell they would ever get out. Efforts to improve themselves were made only out of the need to survive, not for any personal satisfaction. Ambition had been sucked out of every single one of them.
Except for Hal Winters. No one person, or one thing, could suck the ambition out of Hal. Mainly because he wasn’t afraid of one single fucking thing, and never had been. Well, not entirely true—he was afraid for his family and their safety. Particularly Brock.
He finished his salad, and waved over at Keith one last time before leaving the restaurant. He climbed onto his bike and thought to himself that after tonight he wouldn’t be riding this thing again. And he was going to miss it. Well, he would just have to get himself one once he was topside again. Maybe Brock would buy him a bike as a welcome out gift.
He thought to himself how nice it would be if Brock invited him to live at his beach house in Malibu. That would be a great way to wind down the remaining years of his life, living with the son he loved more than life itself.
They’d always had a bond—almost like the one twins reportedly had. They talked to each other in code, dreamt of each other, even communicated sometimes through their dreams. They’d even discovered that on many occasions they’d had the exact same dream on the exact same night.
As he cycled back to his room, Hal shook his head sadly, thinking that if their bond had been that strong despite him being absent a large part of the time during Brock’s formative years, how strong could it have been if he’d been there—truly been there?
Once back in his room, he set the alarm for 11:00. Keith should be knocking on his door around that time, but Hal wanted to make sure he didn’t sleep through the knock. Although he doubted that, because he was excited tonight.
He felt the juices of adrenaline surging through his body, just the way they used to whenever he was stalking a victim—waiting to slit a throat or blow out some brain matter. He took the steak knife out of his back pocket and laid it on the mattress. Then covered it with his leg as he stretched out for a badly needed nap.
*****
“What do you mean you’re in love with her?”
Keith winced. “It’s true, Hal. We’ve been seeing a lot of each other. I can’t leave without her.”
Hal took a threatening step toward him. “Are you sure you’re not confusing love with lust? For Christ’s sake, you’ve been fucking her in an underground city, along with dozens of other guys. I’ve even fucked her. Are you nuts?”
“I’m sorry, Hal, but I’m putting my foot down. She’s coming with us.”
Hal turned his attention to Patsy. She was standing just inside the closed door to Hal’s room. They’d arrived right on cue at 11:00 and Hal couldn’t believe his eyes when Keith entered with her in tow.
“Are you in love with him?”
She looked scared. Her mouth was trembling and her arms were folded across her chest. She looked down at the floor. “Yes,” she mumbled.
Hal lunged at her and shoved her up against the wall. He wrapped his right hand around her skinny throat and squeezed. Keith started to protest, but Hal extended his left arm out towards him in a threatening gesture, his index and third fingers poised to strike. Keith wisely shut his mouth as quickly as he’d opened it.
Hal glared into Patsy’s eyes. “I’ll ask you only once. Your eyes will tell me the truth. Have you told anyone else about this?”
Her pupils were dilated and sweat was glistening on her forehead. She shook her head. Hal squeezed harder. She shook her head again. He studied her eyes carefully, in a way that he’d been trained to do.
Then he released his grip. “I believe you. I can’t leave you behind now that you know what we’re going to do. My friend here has forced my hand.”
He lowered his voice to a menacing whisper and rammed his finger into Patsy’s chest. “But, believe this—if you do anything to jeopardize our escape, I’ll kill you quicker than you can undo your bra.”
She gave several quick and nervous nods of her head. Then she whispered, “Thanks, Hal. Keith and I just want to be together.”
Hal sneered at her. “That’s real sweet. I always wanted to be the Pope, too, but you can see how that dream turned out.”
Keith put his hand on Hal’s shoulder. “Thanks, Hal. I appreciate this.”
Hal pushed his hand away. “You didn’t give me much choice, buddy. So, don’t patronize me. You had no right to tell her about this—no right at all. I took you into my confidence. This was my plan—you were the lucky one I chose to get out with me.”
“I know, I know—it was wrong.”
“Fuck off. I said don’t patronize me. You’re just lucky she’s still breathing.”
Hal reached down to the bed and picked up the steak knife, still wrapped in the napkin. He stuffed it into his back pocket.
Keith asked, “What’s that?”
“Just a little something to slit your throats with.”
Hal put his hand on the doorknob. Before opening the door, he whispered, “Now, follow me. We’re going to walk down this tunnel and then turn into another tunnel. Walk slowly, with no real purpose. You two lovebirds can stroll hand-in-hand and whisper sweet nothings. Make it look like we’re just out for a moonlight walk—without the moon, of course.”
They made it to the second tunnel in less than ten minutes. Once they were under the grate for the ceiling air vent, Hal raised his hand, signalling the other two to stop. “Lean up against that wall and start kissing. Make it look real.” He pointed down the tunnel. “I’m just gonna walk down there and drive that machine back.”
Within a couple of minutes, Hal was back with the loader. He took the remote out of the console and pressed the button for the extension lift, holding it until it reached its full height. It came to a stop just a foot or two below the air vent. He pressed the button again and brought the lift back down.
Keith and Patsy looked up, astonishment on their faces. Keith let out a low whistle. “That’s how we’re getting out of here?”
“Yep. Keith, you’re first. Get up on this lift. Once you reach the grate, push up on it quietly and slide it into the ventilation duct. Then crawl into the duct.”
“But—”
Hal growled. “No buts. You can’t back out now. Get up there.”
Keith climbed onto the lift, and Hal pressed the button once again. When he reached the ceiling, Keith followed his orders. He slipped the grate into the duct and then hoisted himself inside.
Hal lowered the lift again. “Patsy, your turn.”
He helped her up onto the lift and then raised it to the ceiling. Keith helped her climb inside the duct.
Now it was Hal’s turn. He lowered the lift, crawled on and raised it back up to the ceiling. Keith and Patsy slid back deeper into the shaft to make room for Hal. Once inside, he looked down through the opening and pressed the remote, lowering the lift back down.
Then he shifted his thumb to a circle on the unit, similar to the directionals on a television remote. He pressed the Forward arrow and the little machine started to move down the tunnel. Hal steered it along the wall and back into the exact same spot it had started from.
Lastly, he lowered the grate back into place. There were no signs left behind as to what they had just done, or how they had done it.
Keith whispered. “It’s pitch black in here.”
Hal held up the remote. “Has a built-in flashlight.” Hal pressed another button on the remote, illuminating the ductwork ahead of them. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. He flicked it and held it aloft. The flame leaned back towards him. “Okay, this way. Let’s go. Crawl carefully and quietly.”
Patsy spoke in a high-pitched whisper. “How will this lead us out?”
“It’s an air ventilation system. It has to draw air in, so this ductwork will lead to one or more vertical shafts. We just have to find one of them.”
Hal led the way through the narrow duct. There was only about a foot clearance around his body, making the space feel very claustrophobic. He pushed that thought out of his head. He’d crawled through many tunnels in his life, and this was just one more. But it was a more important tunnel than all the others he’d dragged himself through. This one led to freedom.
They crawled for about ten minutes until they came to an intersecting duct, connecting from his left. He held the lighter up again and the flame flickered away from the connecting duct. “We have to hang a left. Let’s go.”
Another ten minutes passed, but it seemed like an hour. Keith was right on Hal’s heel, and pulling up the rear was Patsy. They were all breathing heavily now, not from lack of air, but from the exertion and stress of crawling along through such a tight space.
Then he saw it. Just up ahead, a vertical shaft connecting to the tunnel they were crawling in. Hal picked up his pace. Once underneath the shaft he held up the lighter. The flame flickered downward, almost extinguishing itself.
“This is it!”
He turned his head to face his comrades. “We’re going up now. Won’t be easy. Shove your back up against the wall of the shaft, and then pull your legs up into a tuck. Bring your feet up against the opposite wall to push your back upwards. Then keep doing it, step by step. You’ll be walking upwards. I’ll go first. Watch me. Okay?”
Hal had done this sort of thing many times before, so it was easy for him despite the fact that he was a lot older than the other two. He pushed himself upwards, foot by painstaking foot.
Once he’d gone about twenty feet up, he shone the remote. He could see that he was about halfway. There was a grate at the top, just like the one they’d come through back in the tunnel. He shone the flashlight down.
“Okay, Patsy, you come next. In case you slip. Keith will be able to catch you.”
She eased herself into the shaft, and began mimicking what she’d seen Hal doing. He was surprised at how well she was coping. But she was also shorter than he and Keith, so it was much easier for her to tuck her body into a tight ball.
When she reached him, Keith followed.
Once they were all at the halfway point, Hal continued upwards and whispered instructions for them to match him move for move.
He was within five feet of the top now. The fresh air was heaven-sent, rushing down towards them in a refreshingly intoxicating caress. Hal looked up through the grate and saw stars. Freedom was only a few feet away.
Suddenly, Patsy gasped. Hal looked down. Both of her hands were grasping her lower leg and she was struggling with it. She looked up at Hal with tears in her eyes. “I’m stuck!”
He shone the remote down. Her foot was stuck through an open joint in the metal ductwork. She must have pushed too hard with her foot at that point, and the metal separated. Then her foot just slipped right through. It had gone through right past her ankle, and the metal was tearing into her skin. Blood was streaming along her lower leg.
Keith cursed and started pulling on the sheets of metal, trying to pry them apart. They wouldn’t budge.
Patsy was sobbing now. “Help me. It hurts.”
Keith looked up past Patsy, into Hal’s eyes. “Hal?”
Hal raised his head and looked up longingly at the grate. Freedom was only seconds away.
Then he turned his attention back to Patsy. He stroked her head gently. “Shh—don’t cry. I’ll get your foot free.”
Keith shifted his position in the shaft to inch a little bit closer to Patsy. “What are you going to do, Hal?”
“Quiet, please. A few moments of silence is all I need.”
Then he allowed himself to slip into a zone—a zone very few people understood. He leaned his body at an odd angle down towards Patsy, and began moving his hands in a tight circle.
He closed his eyes and began to meditate. It only took about a minute to hypnotize himself. Then he opened his eyes again and, instead of the sheet metal, all his brain saw now were imagined wooden boards. His eyes were able to look through those boards, past them to a point on the other side. Then he tightened the muscles in his abdomen and summoned that incredible strength up through his body and down into his arms. He imagined that energy, could see it, feel it.
He brought his left hand in towards his stomach while his right hand shot out like a lightning bolt into and through the metal ductwork at a point just above Patsy’s ankle. Then he calmly peeled the shattered metal back and away from Patsy’s foot just as easily as if it were the plastic lid on a jar of mustard.
Her foot was free. She looked up at him, eyes registering the shock that words couldn’t possibly express.
All Keith could do was exclaim, “Jesus!”
Hal reached into his back pocket and took out the knife. He unwrapped the cloth napkin and then tied it tightly around Patsy’s ankle.
“Have you ever had a tetanus shot?”
Patsy shook her head. “No.”
“When you’re on the outside, that’s one of the first things you’re gonna have to do.”
She nodded.
“Okay, out we go.”
Hal pushed himself up until he was at the grate, and then shoved up on it. It wouldn’t budge!
He shone the remote up over the grate, and around to each outside corner. Sure enough, the corners were fastened down with nuts.
Damn!
He reached his hand up and through the opening at one of the corners. His big hand could only come within an inch of the nut.
He glanced down at Patsy. “We need you, dear. You have the smallest hands. You’ll have to squeeze through this grate and unscrew these nuts.” Hal looked past her at Keith. “Push her up alongside me, and support her feet while she works.”
No one said a word. Patsy manoeuvered her body into position between Hal’s legs, and Keith pushed on her feet. She made a slight squealing sound from the pressure Keith was exerting on her injured foot, but she didn’t miss a beat. Slid her tiny hand up through one of the corner openings and began to twist on the nut.
It took a few seconds, but then it began to budge. “It’s turning!”
It was a slow process, but her little hand was doing its important work. One by one, each nut came off.
“Now, push up on the grate, Patsy, and slide it off to the side. Quietly.”
She did, and Hal placed his hands on her bum, giving it a firm shove. She rolled off onto the grass. Hal followed, and then Keith pulled himself out.
They all just sat in the grass for a few minutes, catching their breaths. Keith and Patsy gazed up at the sky in wonder—neither of them had seen it in several years. It was as if they were blind people who had just regained their sight.
Hal, of course, got to see the outside world every week or so, with the flights he had to make. But, for him, the feeling of freedom itself was what he was experiencing right now, and he felt drunk from the rush. His heart was pumping hard, and he could sense the hint of a smile cross his face.
This is it. We’re out!
But, reality was now setting in. They weren’t free yet.
He leaned forward on his elbows and whispered to his friends. “We’re not home free yet.” He pointed. “Look over there. Barbed wire fencing. We’re gonna have to bend the tops upwards and then down towards the opposite side of the fence. Be prepared to bleed. But, we have no choice. That’s the way out.”
They struggled to their feet, legs cramped from being in the shaft for so long.
Suddenly they weren’t alone!
“Stop where you are! Hands in the air!”
They whirled around. Standing just ten feet away was a soldier with a rifle trained at them, the barrel moving in a slow arc from one to the other.
Keith and Patsy slowly raised their hands. Hal raised his left hand, but snuck his right hand into his back pocket, grasping the steak knife by its blade.
“Both hands, buddy!”
Hal nodded. “Sure. No problem here.”
He brought his right hand out of his pocket and suddenly thrust it outwards, in a move that was so fast it would have been just a blur to the soldier. Far too fast for him to react.
The knife blade glistened in the moonlight as it streaked through the air. With uncanny accuracy, it found its mark, embedding itself deep into the soldier’s throat. He gasped and dropped his rifle, thrusting both hands up to his neck before collapsing to the ground.
Hal rushed over to the soldier. He was still alive. Gurgling noises were seeping from his throat. His hands had circled the knife, clearly reluctant to withdraw it, so they were instead locked in a desperate and futile struggle to just stop the bleeding.
Hal intervened and swiftly yanked the knife out of his throat and then promptly rammed it back down again, this time into the soldier’s heart. A massive sigh passed across the sentry’s dying lips.
Keith and Patsy just stood there in shock, hands to their mouths.
Hal picked up the rifle and started running. “C’mon! No time to mourn!”
They ran to the barbed wire fence and without hesitation began to climb. Hal threw the rifle over to the ground on the other side.
“Push up and then down on the barbed wire. Once we have a few strands out of the way, we can ease ourselves over.”
But, it was not to be. This time there were two.
“Get down from that fence, or we’ll shoot you where you stand!”
*****
Brock Winters was sleeping the way he usually did. Not too deeply, probably not even close to being in his REM stage.
Sometimes he wondered if he ever really reached that deepest point of sleep. He never felt refreshed when he awakened; it was almost like he hadn’t been asleep at all.
The soothing sound of the waves lapping against the shorefront of his Malibu beach house was always at the forefront of whatever sleep he did get. It seemed as if he could always hear those waves, and he increased the odds of hearing them by leaving the sliding door of his bedroom open every night.
He knew he was asleep, though. Because he could hear his own snoring. That didn’t happen with too many people, but it sure did with him.
But out of the darkness something else was going on in his brain while he slept tonight. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a nightmare. It wasn’t even a movie script. It was—an awareness.
Suddenly, Brock’s eyes popped open and he lurched up in bed as if being pulled by some unseen force.
Only one thought was at the forefront of his consciousness.
Dad!