Chapter Eighteen
They crowded around Ryan, hugging him, fussing, and lifting him in the air. Ursula was one of the first to grab him in a hold, rejoicing that he was safe.
“Thank you,” he said to her.
“No need to thank me,” she said. “I told you I’d get you out of there.”
“Okay, get back!” Wiley ordered. “Everyone get back as far as possible.”
“I’m going in with you!” Susan said, as she realized they were about to go in. She was almost angered, forceful in her persuasion, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket and holding on.
“All right,” he said. “That’s not a bad idea, you may be of some help, especially if it is him, but they need to go in first, incase he’s armed.”
“He wouldn’t—”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t risk anyone else’s life, not yours, not theirs.”
“Tell them not to shoot,” she pleaded. “Please tell them—”
“They only would if he’s armed. Now, that may not be the case. That’s why we would need you, but Susan, you need to be in control of yourself, understand?”
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded her head.
“Let’s go!” Wiley called out softly, and the armed backup team rushed the entranceway, moving in the direction that Ryan and Ursula had detailed, as the game plan had slightly changed. Wiley had a protective arm around Susan as they followed. The others stayed behind, gathered around the vehicles, guarded by the remaining backup team.
A fraction of the raiding agents scattered in different directions, searching to find the guards that Ryan claimed had disappeared. As they moved aside, Wiley, Susan, and the escorting agents, moved faster through the underground, the double doors, and into the compound.
The dankness of earth greeted their nostrils, while the runaway sounds of existing, but malfunctioning technology greeted their ears. The compound was fully constructed as a medical research facility and was suited with all the accommodations: sterile rooms, bunkers, and computers that now signaled the sounds of overwhelming alarm. They winced at the high-pitched beeping, gurgling, and humming that seemed to grow louder as if each repetitive sound was an ascending alert.
Then, one of the team leaders in front shouted over the noise.
“Move back, move back!”
The officers stepped aside, and through the space that was made, they saw a man, huddling and struggling to gain foot on the ground. Wiley noticed the small, dark red pools on the floor beneath the man.
“Wait!” Wiley shouted. “He’s unarmed, possibly injured!”
Hadley was trying to balance himself against one of the rails that lined the length across the compound walls, fighting a fading equilibrium. The blood now stained his shirt and trailed in the small pools behind him as he staggered. His eyes were lost, glossy, serene.
* * * *
He looked up and over at the faces that stared at him, the weapons still cautiously pointed at him, then the face he’d known and loved so well appeared, coming closer to him out of a vortex of lost time. He’d seen her picture in a psychological journal, once, throughout the lost years, her web page a few times, but now as she came closer, inspecting his every feature, he realized it was the first time he’d really seen her face since that day at the bus station in 1969.
His heart dropped at the sight of her, and she knew it. Tears formed and streaked her face at some instant recognition. Time had not touched her beautiful face, and the quick feeling of pride interrupted his agony, if only for a moment. There she was in front of him, her presence almost cancelling out the last four decades, as though they had never occurred. Though now he reasoned it was too late, enduring what he felt were the last moments of his life, feeling them slowly slipping away...
* * * *
She saw the man hanging onto the rail, but it was hard to see his face at first. As the officers stepped aside, she took a few steps closer, and Wiley didn’t stop her. Is it him? She was cautious, skeptical. Whoever it was needed medical attention because that dark substance that surrounded him and stained his attire was definitely blood.
The hair, it was similar, now with gray streaks touching the temples and shading the sheen darkness. She kept studying the face as she moved closer to him. He stared at her sideways, as though he’d been expecting her, and the eyes that she’d gazed into throughout her youth stared back at her. A sword pierced her heart from top to bottom, and the pain it created caused her face to twist at the bittersweet reality...
He was alive! She ran to him, grabbing both sides of his face in her hands, searching his eyes to be sure. Their hearts cried out in perfect synchronicity, bearing tears of recognition and wringing endless, lamenting sounds of sorrow from their voices.
“Mark!” She screamed as she clutched him to her, his blood now staining her hands and clothes. “Mark? Why?” She pulled away and looked into his face one more time. The tears welled in his eyes.
“Suzy Q,” he said, recalling his pet name for her.
“My God, what happened to you? Where have you been? Why?”
Her voice grew louder as the questions wore thin; what else was there to ask?
“We have to get you to the hospital,” she said, her voice now rushing. She turned to Wiley, who was now radioing for an ambulance. “Oh, God!” She screamed as the blood that streaked his face from his nose now seemed to be everywhere. His nose, just like Sidney, she thought. Cerebral hemorrhage...
“There isn’t much time,” he said. “You have to leave me here, Susan.”
He struggled to speak, but her protests overpowered his weakened attempts. She could hear Wiley giving directions to the compound. She laid his head back and applied pressure to the side of his nose. Then she softly stroked his forehead.
“The boy?” he asked.
“Ryan is safe outside.”
“Not safe,” he said, struggling. “Got to get away from here...”
She tried to hush him, until he started pointing, his finger targeting the direction of the computers. She turned and looked at the machines that continued to squeal. Wiley finished the emergency call then squatted down beside them.
“Too late,” the former Roman Hadley said, still pointing. “Go, get out!”
Wiley turned his head toward the rampaging machines as he remembered the underground compound in Washington—nothing left but bits and pieces. His eyes grew wide at the realization that Hadley was right; it was too late...
* * * *
The team, along with Ursula, stood outside by the vehicles discussing the events of the last few days. Ryan was detailing how the last thing he remembered in the men’s room was someone grabbing him from behind and how he could smell almonds.
“Chloroform,” Brett said. “That’s why we didn’t hear anything.” Just the thought of it caused them all to look at each other, realizing what Ryan may have been too young to understand. Ursula explained her role in the situation exactly as she had to Wiley, and Ryan backed her up.
“You really should be commended, Ursula,” Dylan said. “We may not have found him in time if it weren’t for you. Hadley could have taken him anywhere.”
Ursula lowered her eyes, humbled.
“Well, lucky for you that I’m pretty unlucky, right?” Ursula joked with Ryan, embracing her pal and patting his back.
They hadn’t noticed Leah Leeds as she stepped away and moved in a fixed trance toward the entranceway...
* * * *
Something was happening; she was seeing Ian again. He motioned her away from the small gathering by the vehicles, and she followed him to the entrance. He was pointing at it. He looked back at her then looked again at the entrance.
She gazed past the cavernous entrance with her third eye, and letting it take over, she saw the tunnel, spiral after spiral, straight to a set of sliding doors, a blinking green light above them, white rooms, darkened corridors. Then she saw Susan on the floor, holding someone, Hadley, Wiley using the handheld radio, blood, the computers, lights, blinking, flashing; then there was nothing but a huge fireball, debris being flung miles into the air.
The visions stopped just as Dylan called to her...
“Leah, where are you going? What’s wrong?”
The chilled October air struck her face, awakening her. She realized the here and now as Ian was gone with the flashing visions. She turned herself around slowly from the shock of what she’d just seen, and then she screamed...
“It’s gonna blow! Move! It’s gonna blow!”
* * * *
The scene of the underground compound in Washington had flashed through his mind with its collapsed walls imprisoning piles of scattered debris underneath, a result of a mass explosion. The Bureau had always assumed that the destruction was deliberately set by the group, some type of manually instituted bomb. But as he looked now at the computers with their blinking screens and screeching sounds of alert, he realized why that was happening, and it was a harsh dawn that enlightened him.
The computers were initiating an explosive, self-destruction sequence; the entire compound was about to be destroyed.
“Listen up!” Wiley shouted. “This place is about to explode! I need all but two of you to move out! Two of you will help get him out of here! MOVE, NOW!”
The thundering shuffling of feet rumbled across the floor, and the remaining officers attempted to grab a secure hold of the man on the floor, when Susan began screaming. Blood was gushing everywhere now. The color in the man’s face was draining away, and the curtain call of Roman Hadley was leaving a once, young soldier to die on a cold floor beneath the earth.
He stared at her through glossy, dying eyes and whispered...
“Susan...Suzy Q...I have always...loved you...never stopped...”
He gasped and swallowed, fighting the final breath, and his eyes continued to stare at her. She screamed his name once more in a loud, final plea, and the sound of the soldier’s name echoed through the underground.
Her grief instantly set by the final gasp that escaped him.
“No! No!” Wiley grabbed her and tried to pull her up, but she fought him.
“There’s nothing you can do, Susan; he’s gone!” He repeated those last two words, shaking her into acceptance as the sounds of oncoming fate loudly prophesied approaching doom. The beeping became louder, faster, like the preamble of a rocket launch.
“Move, now!” At Wiley’s command, the two assisting officers turned, ran, and disappeared. The sounds were getting faster as a mixture of earth and plaster began to lightly shower from above.
“Susan! We’ve got to get out, now!”
She continued to fight him, unwilling to leave the man, whom to her was still somehow alive. Not allowing her insanity to take over, he scooped her up in his arms and ran the same way they had come.
* * * *
Leah ran with her arms flailing at the team and the remaining officers.
“Get back!” She screamed. “It’s gonna blow!”
The team didn’t question her, running as fast and as far from the compound as possible. The remaining officers took cover in a somewhat skeptical fashion until their fellow officers stormed out of the entrance, shouting orders to move out.
Susan, Leah thought. Where was she?
The team was huddled, with Ryan, approximately a hundred yards away from the entrance. They watched and waited...
* * * *
He had made it, carrying her, through the double doors and into the tunnel. It would be faster this way, if they made it at all. She remained in a state of stubborn immobility, and it was either carry her, or drag her, and there hadn’t been time to decide.
The tunnel was much harder to move through than the compound. He crouched and ran as best as he could, knowing her screams of Mark’s name would be the last things he heard if he didn’t move faster. The sweat poured down his face, drenching him, flowing into his eyes and clouding his vision.
He could feel a rumbling beneath his feet, and instinct caused him to turn his head slightly to inspect the distance behind him. From the corner of his eye, he saw a bright flash of white ignite and spread from depths below, and the sound of the initial blast seemed almost far away, though it started to rain down debris on their heads. The entranceway was only feet ahead, but a scurrying inferno blistered fast behind him. His legs moved faster when he felt the growing heat touch his back.
* * * *
Leah watched the entranceway from afar and prayed.
“Oh, God,” she said. “What are we going to tell Sidney, if she doesn’t make it out?” The tone of her voice was tortured by continuous fear and tragedy. The looks on the rest of their faces didn’t console her, as they looked away or intently at her with fear and despair, preparing for the inevitable.
They heard a rumbling noise as the ground quaked beneath their feet. It was no earthquake, not here. Off in the distance to the right of where they assembled, a bright flash of white and orange erupted from the ground, the rumbling sound segueing into the splitting, cracking clamor of explosion.
But as quickly as they cowered, they jumped to their feet, and several officers ran toward the entrance as two figures emerged from it.
They watched as Wiley bolted from the entrance, clutching Susan in his arms. Then the ground convulsed beneath them all, and they swayed back and forth trying to maintain balance. The roar of the blast ripped around them, loud, threatening, traumatically magnifying the fear of death. Leah watched as the orange fireball now reached for the sky, flinging debris high into the air to rain down upon them, just as her third eye had shown her.
Bits of stone, wood, and metal were falling from the sky, along with the floating flickers of flame that danced with the cold wind. Though the blast had knocked them to the ground, Wiley and Susan made it safely away with only mere seconds sparing their lives. The officers ran over to them, helping them away from the collapsed entrance.
Susan’s frenzied hysteria was somewhat softened by the shock of the blast into desperate moans and mourning wails that led to heaving breaths of hyperventilation. They sat her down on the hood of Brett’s car, and Leah held her closely as the rest gathered around her.
“It’s going to be all right, now, Susan,” Leah said. “You’ll see.” She rocked her back and forth. “Come back to us; we need you.”
In the distance, the sounds of approaching ambulance sirens combined with the whines of fire engines, brazenly blaring out through the vast, quiet district that had otherwise remained silent.
They strapped Susan to a gurney when they arrived, the shock causing her body to tremble in trauma. Leah held her hand, finding herself riding in yet another ambulance.
“She’ll be all right,” the EMT said. “Shock—it’ll wear off.” They began to fuss over Wiley, who kept insisting that he was fine, but standard procedure prevailed. He was examined and deemed uninjured.
“I want you to take the boy; he needs to be looked at,” Wiley said, and walked over to Ryan. “Everything is going to be okay, Ryan. I’m going to call your mother, and she will meet us at the hospital. If everything checks out, you can go home.”
The color was already returning to Ryan’s face, flushing away the paleness from his brief stint underground, and Wiley’s words struck relief in the hearts of the investigators; it had been a long week...