Cries of the Children(111)

“That little girl said there were at least six or seven floors here,” he said, “but these only go down one more flight. There must be a secret set of stairs.”

“Lorraine said she found the entrance to the tunnel in a storage room,” Samantha said.

The complex had been built according to a plan, and it was only a matter of minutes before they found an entrance to a new set of stairs behind some dusty old crates in a supply closet.

“The tunnel must lead to one of these floors,” Samantha said as they descended. “I wonder if we’ll find Rachel and Eric.”

“We won’t have the chance for that,” Wil said. “We can’t explore every story of the building. My guess is that if they’ve got anything to hide here, it would be in the lowest possible level.”

They went down the rest of the way without speaking. On each floor they stopped to carefully look out the glass window on the door. They could see people moving quickly about, some with guns out. Samantha knew they were looking for Lorraine, but doing so in such a quiet manner that the people on the upper floors weren’t aware of the escape. Those people probably were no more than locals from the town. Kane might have been one himself.

As she followed Wil, Samantha kept looking back over her shoulder, expecting to see someone coming behind them. But so far they were alone. No doubt these stairs were used only in emergency situations.

When they reached the bottom floor, Wil pulled her back into the shadows and carefully looked out the window. The hall was brightly lit, and occupied by people in white space suits. Wil and Samantha had to wait five minutes before the way was clear for them to walk into the hallway. The sight of people hidden under helmeted white suits alerted them that they’d found something quite important. It also gave them a chance to take a look around incognito. Wil guessed that, like the floor where Kane was held prisoner, the storage room was right near the stairs. He found a pair of white suits, and they both pulled them on.

“Wil, what if there’s some kind of disease down here?” Samantha asked worriedly. “What if we put these suits on wrong?”

Wil showed her one of the valves.

“This is set for exhaust,” he said. “That means that the outside air is being protected from whatever germs might be emanating from you.”

“From me?” Samantha echoed, staring at the helmet in her hands.

“That’s right,” Wil said. “It’s a cleanroom suit. Air going out is filtered, not air coming in.”

Samantha looked toward the door.

“What are they trying to protect out there?” she wondered.

Wil pulled on his helmet and latched it as easily as a man who had done this hundreds of times. Samantha made a mental note to ask him about this at a later date. She fumbled with her own, and Wil helped her. It gave her a slightly claustrophobic feeling, and memories of being locked up by her mother fought to surface. Samantha fought back, and they disappeared.

Wil helped her with her gloves. In moments they looked like astronauts. More important, they looked no different from anyone else on the floor.

“Can you hear me?” Samantha said.

Wil answered, his voice sounding gravelly inside her helmet.

“Yes, how about you?”

“Just fine,” Samantha said. “Wil, how will you get your gun if you need it?”

“I couldn’t use it anyway,” Wil said, holding up the fat fingers of his glove.

They exited the storage room together. They could see two other people down the hall, but neither one turned to look at them. For the next ten minutes they explored as best they could, avoiding anyone else in case questions might be asked. Finally they came across a room marked “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.”

“I wonder why there isn’t a guard,” Samantha asked.

She saw Wil’s helmet shake back and forth. Carefully he pushed at the door. It was locked.

“I hear someone coming,” Samantha said.

They ducked into a broom closet. Wil watched a figure go by through the crack in the door, a white-suited figure like himself.

The guard unlocked the door to the mysterious room and went inside. Guiding Samantha with a gentle push, Wil led the way back to the hall. This time the door that had stopped them stood slightly ajar.

“What are you waiting for?”

The voice inside his helmet did not sound like Samantha’s. Wil turned to look at her, or at what he could see through the dark visor that covered her face. There was someone else with them, standing to Samantha’s side. Wil didn’t need to see Samantha’s face to know she had a stricken expression. He could read it in the stiff way she stood.