Chapter Seventeen

 

She missed nearly broad siding a parked car in her haste and insurmountable shock, a stupor so great that she felt herself trying to move her lips to say something, but some strange paralysis only allowed her to make minimal moans of distress during the failed attempts. Her mind became incapable of sustaining the slightest thought of anything other than what she’d just been told: Mark, Hadley, the same person—impossible. How could this be? She felt the bitter disappointment at not waking in her bed and discovering it all to be a nightmare.

She had stopped at Ed’s Diner, only to be told that Wiley and the team had left minutes before. Susan turned and left without saying a word; she knew where they had gone, to the old mining section of town. Leah saw the vision in her office, and the girl described everything to perfection. If she didn’t find them, she was going alone to hunt for Hadley; if Sidney was right, he would be holding Ryan in that old, renovated mining facility.

She would go there and prove that Sidney was wrong; he had to be, but then she thought back to the day when she first met Ryan, and she’d been reading his file in her office. When she read of the boy’s abilities, she was overcome with the memories of Mark and how similar their psychic abilities were, more so than Sidney’s.

Roman Hadley was suspected of belonging to the same psychic ilk.

Every time she held out hope that it wasn’t true, that thought came back to her, draping a dark curtain over her pounding heart. Her attention to the road in front of her waned, and she drove on, oblivious to the rural scenes that passed her by, bringing her closer to her destination.

It had been over forty years, forty-two, to be exact, since she last saw Mark. The day that his number was called at the draft office rally was the day it had ended for them. They spent the next few days together before he’d left on the bus for boot camp. Those last moments were taking place in her mind all over again: the rush to leave, the promises of hope they’d exchanged, while unspoken premonitions of dread danced on their lips, the tears before he’d boarded the bus, and the way he’d squeezed her hard. She still recalled the familiar song that played on the car radio as she drove him to the station...

Nights in white satin, never reaching the end...

Letters I’ve written, never meaning to send.

Beauty I’d always missed with these eyes before.

Just what the truth is. I can’t say anymore.

‘Cos I love you... Yes, I love you. Oh how I love you.

The song played on in her mind, perfectly recorded, and she lived the moment over again with carbon copy clarity, as though that moment, and this moment in the car all these years later, were two connected points in time and space. Why did that song feel so damn relevant right now? Her heart felt as though the past forty-two years had never taken place.

Tears cascaded down her face, coaching the silent, sequestered sobs into a full, audible symphony. The unthinkable had consumed her, but through the windshield, she recognized the rural route winding out in front of her. She was so much closer to discovering the truth—once and for all.

* * * *

The old, desolate, rural valley that once served as a substantial mining district was home to only a handful of houses sparsely spread throughout. Lifeless, except for the few who lived there, the small territory could fit the definition of “ghost town” with its vast, vacated, and barren appearance, devoid of businesses, structures or vehicles. Street after street displayed defunct and abandoned remnants of old machinery that once roared and hissed.

Wiley pulled up alongside the old railroad tracks, his backup steadily but silently following behind. Ursula was pointing in a direction just north of where she, Leah, and Wiley sat in the car.

“There is an entranceway in that direction,” she said. “It’s hidden by some brush and foliage, but the entranceway leads to a tunnel, the tunnel leads to the compound.”

“Okay, girls,” Wiley said. “Now, I want you to stay calm, and stick with me at all times. You do and go what and when I tell you, understand?” They nodded. “I want us to quietly step out of the car so I can issue some last few instructions to my backup.”

They exited the car as quietly and nonchalantly as did the small following procession that arrived behind them. Wiley had insisted that Brett bring his car because the group’s van was out of the question; it would draw too much attention. The last thing Wiley wanted was for the inhabitants inside to become aware of the small cavalry outside. He walked over to them, instructing them to be waiting to get the girls away from the scene when the time came.

Wiley ordered his backup team to follow closely behind him and the girls, and after Ursula took them to the entranceway, they were to storm the tunnel. He supplied the blueprints to his team, unsure of any exit routes within the tunnel; Ursula hadn’t noticed any, but Wiley stationed some of his team around the area, just in case.

He and the girls made it to the brush that covered a small, rectangular shaped, cave entrance that loomed a little over five feet in height, the team silently ready behind them. Once the brush was pulled away, Wiley could see that the width of the entrance was sizable, but the height was cramped, causing anyone over five feet, seven inches to duck when entering. He turned to them, and Ursula confirmed it as the entrance to the tunnel, while Leah identified it as the one in her vision.

“Walk about ten feet into the entrance,” Ursula said, “turn right, and there is a tunnel. From there, after you walk about a hundred yards, an outside light will automatically turn on; it is initiated by movement.” She had explained all of this to Wiley in the car, and now she repeated it as the FBI team listened intently.

“All right,” Wiley said. “Team—remain on standby. I want you girls to go back to Brett’s car, quickly but quietly.”

The girls began to walk away as the team crouched into position, when a familiar Ford Taurus thundered into the location, leaving Brett’s car in the dust that spun from its wheels. It kept coming closer, then noisily and carelessly pulled up over the old railroad tracks, bouncing its tires and banging its front end, landing with a smashing stop.

Susan Logan jumped out of her car and screamed...

“Wait! Wait!”

* * * *

The moment was a bittersweet one for Ryan, mixed with relief, joy, but concern as he watched the man now strangely stricken and bleeding from the nose. Hadley stumbled trying to get up then sat back down again, as though standing was too great an effort. Ryan couldn’t be sure if it had been four or five days that he’d spent here, but it seemed like forever, and the man who had kidnapped him had just told him to leave.

Hadley turned his head back toward him.

“Go on,” he said. “Did you hear me? I said, ‘leave here.’” Ryan looked around, unsure of where to go, and when Hadley realized this, he pointed. “That way, down the corridor, keep walking until you see the double doors. Press the green button; they’ll open. Then, go through the tunnel, Ryan...the tunnel.”

The confusion on Hadley’s face grew deeper, becoming an almost permanent fixture. He kept muttering about the tunnel, the tunnel that Ryan had never seen. He stood watching Hadley, and concern turned to alarm when a thicker stream of blood flowed from his nostril. He wanted out of here, but he had to get the man help.

The computers that were suddenly humming, buzzing, and uttering the sounds of oncoming malfunction quickly distracted Ryan’s attention; something was happening. He looked at Hadley again; the man’s color was fading.

He turned and ran in the direction Hadley had pointed to and didn’t look back; he would find his way out, one way or another. His eyes searched around as he fled, not seeing the guards anywhere. Finally facing the double doors, he stood on his toes to press the green button, and as the doors opened wide, he could feel slight traces of cool, fresh air.

He followed which way the breeze touched him; it would obviously be the way to the tunnel. After walking for almost a minute, he saw the tunnel loom before him: dark, hollow, spooky. That’s when he realized he was underground.

* * * *

Hadley was having sporadic moments of clarity; one moment he was confused as to what had happened, the other, he recalled letting the boy go, and he knew why. It was all over now; Ryan would find his way out of here. He couldn’t waste time; he should have left with the boy, but he was confused.

The computers inside the compound were making the sounds of haywire: buzzing, humming, bleeping so loudly when they had remained silent for so long. In one moment of clarity, he recalled just what that meant.

“In the event of a mandatory evacuation, the computers will initiate the self destruction sequence, destroying the compound and everything inside. You would have thirty minutes to clear out.”

He remembered well the monotone voice. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he knew there wasn’t much left, and he forced his weakened body to move faster. He had to find Susan now, before it was too late...

* * * *

“Wait!”

She screamed loud enough that her voice echoed through open space. Wiley ran to her, shushing her and grabbing hold of her shoulders to steady her. She was wild, trying to get her point out as Wiley tried to stifle her screams before she blew the entire operation. Dylan and Brett came running from the car, as did a few backup officers from their posts.

She broke down in tears, trying to force the words through her broken speech. Wiley held her as she cried on his shoulder.

“Susan, listen to me,” he said. “I need you to calm down, and tell me what’s wrong—quietly. You’re loud enough that someone inside may hear you. If anyone finds out we’re here...”

“Sidney says that Roman Hadley is Mark...my Mark!” She stepped back from him.

Dylan and Brett looked at each other and moved forward.

“Mark?” Wiley asked. “Who is Mark? Guys, what is she talking about?”

Dylan and Brett stood at either side of her, supporting her.

“Sidney said he knows Roman Hadley’s real identity,” she said, through her shaking, creaking voice. Her emotional collapse caused her legs to give way from under her, and Dylan caught her, then held her closely and tightly to smother her repetitive sobs. Suddenly, Dr. Susan Logan, the pillar of rational, sound, but relaxed and open thinking, was a quivering jellyfish of nerves caught in Dylan’s arms.

Brett pulled Wiley away and explained to him that Mark was Susan’s fiancé, presumed dead in the Vietnam War, and that Sidney had heard him many years ago.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Wiley said, and as he thought for a moment, Susan broke away from Dylan and ran over to him, having overheard his misunderstanding.

“I never told Sidney that Mark was a clairaudient. He identified Mark’s voice as being the same as Hadley’s. He never put the two together until now. Mark disappeared from Vietnam; we never heard another word from him, outside of his last few letters.” She sounded more composed, just anxious to make him understand what she was saying.

“What year did Mark go missing?” Wiley’s curiosity peaked.

“1970,” she said.”

“That was right around the time of the defections from the FBI’s psychic research testing.” Hadley spoke this verbal thought more to himself than to anyone else.

“If Roman Hadley is your Mark, then he must have been recruited by this group right out of Vietnam. So, you mean to tell me that he has gone all of these years without contacting anyone: you, his family, and friends?”

“I only know what Sidney told me,” she said. “I am going to prove that it isn’t true.” Her voice cracked on her last words, and instantly, they were quieting her.

“You have to let me go in there,” she said, and then her words were cut short.

“Agent Wiley?” One of the backup officers perched at the entranceway called out. “Someone is coming out!”

The officers backed away from the cave-like entry, poised into position and aiming their weapons.

Ryan walked out of the entranceway.

Rifles were lowered at the surprise, and gasps were heard in unison. Several officers ran to him, scooping him up with quick-moving arms and examining him to see if he was hurt. They then turned him over to Wiley and the team of investigators.