The Walls Of The Universe Part 53

"We'll need to take him with us, to hide the body."

John grunted. He dialed the machine to 7650, while Prime dragged Corrundrum's body close to them. John shivered at the nearness of the corpse.

John found the dial that increased the radius of the field. He set it to the maximum radius.

"What are you doing there? What does that do?"

"You don't know?" John asked.

"No!"

"Increases the radius of the field."

"How do you know?"

"I took this one apart, remember? I built one from scratch."

"Right."

"Ready?"

"No."

John looked again at Prime. He had one hand on Corrundrum's shoulder. The other was rubbing Prime's scalp. Even in the cold night air, he was sweating. He was genuinely scared.

"You don't want to do this, that's fine," John said.

"No way. I'm coming. I owe... people."

"Fine. Let's go." John stepped next to Prime, face-to-face with his twin. "Seven-six-five-oh, here we come."

CHAPTER 38 38.

John's ears popped, and the moonlit gray was replaced with pitch-black.

He fell, maybe a half meter, landing awkwardly on his left ankle. Nearby he heard John Prime land against something that rattled metal on metal.

"Flashlights," Prime hissed. "We should have brought flashlights."

"Let's go back and get some," John replied.

"G.o.d, I hate this," Prime said. John listened in the darkness to Prime's fast breathing, the stress in his voice.

"You're okay, man," John said. "We're okay. You can calm down now."

Prime laughed, almost hysterically. Then he paused and said, "Yeah, thanks."

John spun slowly around. The air was moist. They were underground, not in the open at all as they had expected. Perhaps this was just as well.

"We missed the parking lot," Prime said.

John reached out, felt cold cement blocks.

"We're lucky we missed that wall," he said.

"s.h.i.t."

John reached along the wall. His elbow knocked into something that clattered, and then his fingers found a light switch. The room lit up.

It was a bas.e.m.e.nt room, twenty meters long, filled with odds and ends, buckets, mops, old equipment, scuba gear. Rows of shelves were stacked with boxes. It was empty of any people, Goths or otherwise, save dead Corrundrum.

"Oops," Prime said.

"What?" John asked.

"That's how big it is." The device's field hadn't quite reached Corrundrum's feet. The corpse had been amputated at the shins. "Someone is going to get a surprise tomorrow morning."

Blood flowed across the floor in a wave, reeking of iron. John's stomach flipped and he looked away.

"I had been twenty-five percent sure he'd turn on us," Prime said. "Guess I was right."

"There were other ways to deal with him," John said.

Prime stared at him for a moment. "This cleans up a lot of loose ends for me."

"Let's get out of here."

There was a single metal fire door. John twisted the k.n.o.b and pulled it open. It squeaked like old bedsprings. John paused, peering beyond the door into darkness. He could just make out stairs leading up. He jerked the door open, turning the long, slow squeak into a quick squawk.

"Upstairs," Prime whispered. "It's where we gotta be."

The steps felt slick under his boots. The stairway smelled of mold.

At the top was another metal fire door. John placed his ear against the door but heard nothing. Prime knelt at the base of the door and pressed his eye against the crack.

"I don't see anything," Prime said.

"Nothing to hear," John replied. He nodded and opened the door.

They were in a dim hallway, lit by sconces every few meters. There was a half-gla.s.s door across the hall, leading into a dark office. Prime slipped across the hall and tried the door. It opened. They stepped inside.

Prime turned the small desk lamp on. John hoped no one would notice the light; the window shades were drawn.

" 'Arturto Ildibad,' " Prime said, reading the name off the placard on the desk.

A manila folder lay open on the desk. A credit card receipt lay atop the papers, and the name on it was Grace's.

"Look at this!" John cried.

"What?" Prime said.

John handed him the credit card statement.

"So?"

"That's the part list for a transfer device. That's how they found us out," John said. "Grace put it all on her corporate card. They noticed."

"Maybe, or they went looking after they found you guys out," Prime said. "Don't knock yourself out. These guys are professional a.s.sholes. Look at all this junk."

Ildibad's desk was cluttered with newspaper clippings and journal papers. Most of the clippings were from the U.S. Examiner, U.S. Examiner, one of those disreputable tabloids. John noted the large number of UFO stories. There was also one about a modern dinosaur roaming Columbia, South Carolina. The accompanying picture showed a Tyrannosaurus Rex grabbing a Volkswagen Beetle in its teeth. one of those disreputable tabloids. John noted the large number of UFO stories. There was also one about a modern dinosaur roaming Columbia, South Carolina. The accompanying picture showed a Tyrannosaurus Rex grabbing a Volkswagen Beetle in its teeth.

Also on the desk were pictures of the Rayburn farmhouse, close-ups of the barn, the fields, and John's parents.

"These guys are rather thorough," Prime said.

"Wouldn't you be if you were obsessed with getting home?" John said pointedly.

"Uh, yeah." Prime actually looked guilty for a moment.

Prime pulled open Ildibad's desk drawers, looking for something of use. He found a brochure for the company and inside was a map of the campus, including the fenced-in areas.

"Why do they have a brochure?" Prime asked.

"I dunno," John replied. "Do they actually hire anyone from the outside?" John guessed no person from this universe had ever set foot inside the fenced area. Except for Henry. Except for Grace.

John looked over Prime's shoulder. Building One was labeled "Administration." The buildings beyond it were labeled "Laboratory One" and "Laboratory Two." Walkways attached the three buildings.

John looked up and saw an emergency drawing. It showed the office, the corridor, the nearest fire exits, and a silhouette of the rest of Building One. A "You Are Here" sign indicated that they were on the eastern side of Building One.

"We're in Building One. I think we need to get to the laboratories," he said.

"If I were part of an evil group of renegades, that's where I would store my hostages," Prime said. He knelt down in front of the bookcase and pulled a thick volume out. He checked the table of contents, then put the book in his bag.

"What are you doing? What was that?" John said.

"Concise encyclopedia," he said. "You never know what might be useful back home."

"Right." John hitched the duffel on his shoulder. Prime would never change. Yet he was here now, helping. "Let's find my friends."

The hallway was still empty. Prime led them in the direction toward the laboratories. As they neared a set of double doors, one of them swung in and a security guard stepped through, oblivious to them.

He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the handgun in Prime's hands. Prime motioned him forward silently.

"Come on," Prime whispered. "In case there's someone behind you." The guard came forward, but no one followed him. He was alone. Prime slid the man's pistol out of his holster, handing it to John. It was cold and heavy in his hands. He held it awkwardly for a moment until he slid it into his pocket, safety on.

"This way," Prime said, and they led the man back to Ildibad's office and pushed him inside.

"Where are my friends?" John asked the man.

He sneered, then said, "Zulo! Marikoi!"

Prime said, "I guess that means he doesn't want to tell us."

"What language was that?" John asked.

"The Language, you a.s.s," the man said. His English was accented just like Visgrath's.

"Well, he speaks English, as well," Prime said. "That means he'll understand when I say he better start talking if he doesn't want to die with a bullet in the head." Prime raised the pistol, aiming at the guard's forehead. John almost reached out to push the gun away. But they needed to know, and John a.s.sumed-prayed!-that Prime was bluffing.

"Pikutara joan!"

"Listen, you dumb son of a b.i.t.c.h. To me, you're just an animal that needs to be put down. Speak or face oblivion."

"Your friends are dead. Just like you'll be."

"Not the right answer!" Angry, Prime slammed the side of the pistol against the guard's face.

"What are you doing?" John cried out.

"Quiet!"

"Me be quiet?" John stuck his head out the doorway, looking both ways. Empty. "You can't torture this guy."

"Watch me," Prime said. "Isn't this why you brought me along? For the dirty work?"

Blood welled up at the guard's mouth. He spat at Prime, who dodged it with a smirk.

"Where are they?"

"Kabroi! You can't stop our glorious return to Alara. We will take your transporter and leave your bodies for the dogs." He spat again.

Prime smashed his face again with the gun, and this time the guard collapsed unconscious. John looked down at the bleeding man, his head spinning.

"That was going nowhere," Prime said.

"You could have killed him," John said. He crouched down and felt for a pulse.

"Leave him," Prime said. "He's garbage."

"Listen to yourself! It's not about being fierce, or killing, or attacking. Calm down."