Page 97 of Gates of Tartarus

Gemma frowns. “I’m not sure. I can try but it won’t be perfect. It’s always been kind of an all or nothing thing. If I were you, I’d be ready to catch her and get her out of here if she goes over.”

I can see Walker thinking about it and slowly changing his mind. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, Reed. It’s empty, you can see it for yourself. Maybe we should meet up with the others and try to think of something else.”

From outside the door on the far end of the factory, angry voices are yelling for Walker and me. I grab his arm, frantic. “We have to try, Walker!”

He starts to shake his head, when Gemma squeezes my hand twice, quickly, and lets go. I glance at her, startled, before the world around me flares briefly, before pulling back again. Pain like a migraine hits me in the temples, and I can see the stress on Gemma’s face. Walker is still talking about leaving, and I can hear him calling out loudly in response to the others, but it’s like I’m underwater. All I can think about is the knife stab of agony in my head. I realize that this is as much as Gemma can do, and I close my eyes to try to focus. Reaching out as much as I can, I try to follow the trail of that sliver of misery. Letting go of Walker and grabbing Gemma, I pull her blindly towards the corner of the room where the discarded waste lies in discordant piles.

Gemma holds me up with surprisingly strong hands as I stare at the walls, confused. “Where? Where are they? They’reright here! They should be righthere!”

I scream in frustration, picking up a piece of the broken chair and throwing it against the wall. Cries of alarm echo from the far end of the room, and I hear the rapid footfalls that mean people are running towards me. Walker tries grabbing my arm, but I pull away and fall to my knees, pulling Gemma down with me. “I need a little more space,” I beg hysterically. Gemma grimaces but pulls back more, and the pressure from my head explodes down into my body. Ireachup and out, to feel nothing. Nothing from the floors above, nothing from outside, nothing from the floor around me but the frantic heartbeats of my team.

Realization hits me, and I meet Gemma’s confused eyes in horror. “Oh my God!OH God! Gemma, shield me! SHIELD ME!” Numbness slams down on top of me instantly, and sound rushes back in startling clarity as I hear the angry voices of Maddox and Hideo arguing with Walker. Ignoring them all, I crawl forward, throwing the boxes and papers to the side, crazed in my movements. Gemma doesn’t even question me and joins in, tossing the boards and trash away from the corner.

Maddox snaps in equal parts concern and irritation, “There isnothing here,Reed! We cleared the area! There’s no trap door, or ladder, or whatever the hell you’re looking for, and at this point you’re endangering yourself and your team!”

“Walker!” I beg. “I need your light!”

Without question he passes his flashlight to me, and Gemma grabs Hideo’s without even asking. She mimics my movements, not sure what I’m doing but trying to support me. Shining the light on the floor, I search. Therough concrete is covered in dirt, leaves, and scattered shards of glass from the broken windows above lying haphazardly amongst the debris. Uncaring, I run one hand over the floor while the other holds the light, slicing my hand with paper thin cuts in the process. “There is nothing here, Kailani,” Walker says gently. I shake my head again, still feeling and looking. Hideo hovers indecisively, looking between our team leads and Gemma and me. Gemma suddenly stops moving altogether, light fixed on the floor, and I see her processing my movements. Realization hits her,her light starts shaking, and I hear her whisper, “Oh my God. Kai! No…”

She drops to her knees next to me, holding her small flashlight in her mouth, and uses both hands to trace near mine. We find it at the same moment and look up at each other in disbelieving, horrified sickness.

The men notice we’ve stopped our searching and come forward towards us as a unit. Shining both of our lights at the same point on the ground, we point to a small patch of slightly discolored concrete. Difficult to see, covered by dirt, useless trash, and leaves, the square of maybe 3 feet by 3 feet is camouflaged perfectly by darkness and debris.

I swallow thickly, trying not to be sick. “They’re under here.” Pressing my forehead against the ground, I whisper again, “They’re under here. They were sealed alive in a room and left to die in the darkness.”

Ghosts and Corpses

Sunday, 25 November – Kailani

It took a surprisingly little amount of time to break through the new concrete. The fire truck which had arrived with the ambulance had a sledgehammer strapped to it, and Donovan decided to try breaking up some of the floor while we were waiting for machinery. It turns out the concrete had been laid thickly over a kind of manhole cover, so once he cracked through the first inch, he grabbed a crowbar and lifted off the large chunks of rock still covering the sealed circle.

From there it took another forty-five minutes to chip away at the sealant around the manhole cover. I vibrated with nerves every time the hammers struck the metal, sending loud, hollow, ringing tones through the rapidly filling warehouse. The EMTs were prepping “just in case” my hunch turned out to be correct, and three more backup units had arrived in the meantime. Five units total, with fifteen EMTs, were waiting for that pit to be opened and see what was inside. There were two fire engines at this point, and multiple police officers wandering the area. My jaw ached from being clenched so tightly, and occasional waves of nausea washed over me. I could tell Gemma was getting tired, as her numbing ebbed in and out, but she sat silently next to me the entire time, holding my hand, neither of us talking to or looking at each other.

Just as the men start the last section, I motion for Smith to come over so I can speak to him. My voice is shredded, so he has to lean into me to hear me over the sounds in the warehouse. I wave my hand, indicating the area surrounding the small piece of floor where the action is concentrated.

“This needs to be emptied a little, Smith. Or at least quieted down. They won’t be able to handle this.”

He looks at me consideringly and replies, “We don’t have much choice, Reed. We have to have some backup should what you’re indicating be accurate. I’ll do what I can to settle things down, but we need eyes on the scene.”

I sigh heavily, and Gemma squeezes my hand lightly. Trying to find the energy to explain, I open my mouth to speak, when Gemma interrupts, in a much more focused and commanding voice than I’m used to hearing from her. “Smith, right?” When he nods, she continues. “This area is too chaotic for traumatized people. We have no idea what they’ve been through down there, or before they were buried. Kai is sure they’re all women. Being surrounded by twenty to thirty men who are shouting orders and moving them around, even with the best of intentions, could, at theveryleast, be tremendously upsetting. They’ve been sitting…” here she chokes for a minute before swallowing audibly and steadying her voice, “... sitting, buried alive, thinking that they’re going to starve to death, or suffocate. There needs to be understanding when they come out, some sort of peace…”

Smith nods sharply and turns away, before hesitating and turning back. He crouches down in front of me and takes my free hand. I stare at him blankly, unable to focus on his face despite several attempts to get my eyes to obey me. Exhaling slowly, he stares down at our intertwined hands. With his free hand he reaches up and gently wipes beneath my eyes, his thumb staining red. Turning his hand over, he stares for a moment at the blood now coating his thumb before clenching his fingers into a tight fist, knuckles growing white. He looks up at me again for a moment, face inscrutable, before standing again and walking away without speaking.

???

By the time the cover is completely unsealed, it’s been over an hour and a half. Gemma’s close to exhausted by this point, having never held her block this long, as far as I know. In the past when she had numbed me, unconsciously, I thought, it was for forty-five minutes, maybe an hour at most. I knew from experience that it was easier for her to go zen if she was painting or drifting in her own thoughts, and I can tell how much of an effort it is for her to maintain any level of her ability with the noise and chaos around us. I try to pull my hand away from her several times, but she clenches her fingers and redoubles her efforts, and as soon as the coolness hits my brain, I don’t have the willpower to push it out.

My shields are blown to hell. I don’t know what happened to my mind during the time I was out, but everything feels sluggish and slow. It’s as though I have a bad concussion, or like I’m incredibly drunk. I can’t move my head quickly without seeing tracers, and my nose is still occasionally bleeding. I’m covered in cold sweat, dirt, dust, and blood, and I can’t stop shaking. The EMTs have tried to convince me to go to the hospital several times, but I can’t leave. Not yet. Not until I see what has happened.

When the cover is finally pried off, a dank, cold, musty smell escapes from the small hole, followed by the darker scents of sweat, fear, and there, on the edge, of decay. No sound comes from the blackness. Not a whimper, not a shout for help... nothing. The eerie stillness seeps out from the depth and spreads through the surrounding men, who one by one fall silent. No one looks at me with doubt or disbelief anymore. We can all feel that something alive had been there, was hopefully still there, but that death is there too, and it is with clear trepidation that Smith approaches the shadowed hollow.

He leans over and calls down softly, using a gentle voice I haven’t heard from him before. It’s warm and inviting, assuring safety and protection – the voice one would use with a scared child. I lean forward slightly, physically chasing the promise implied in his deep tones.

“Hello?” he calls. “This is Agent Maddox Smith of the CIA. Hello? Is anyone able to respond?”

There is silence, and something heavier than silence, but nothing more than that.

“We’re sending down a rescue team. Please know that none of these men will harm you in any way. We’re here to help and to get you out of there.” He motions toward the firemen behind him, and they bring over a long ladder. “We’re about to lower a ladder down. If you’re able, just back up a little so it doesn’t hit you.” The ladder drops down, landing with a small but audible splash. No other sounds come from the opening, and Smith’s face darkens briefly. The ladder is followed quickly by some gear – oxygen tanks and a couple of first-aid kits. The hole is too small for any of them to go down with any extraneous material on their bodies. Each dons a mask and grabs a flashlight and firearm, before they begin descending, Smith first, followed immediately by Donovan, then Hideo.

---