James Axler – Bitter Fruit

“No.” Jak looked at the ceiling. “Let me borrow lantern.”

Ryan passed it over, then followed in order to have enough light to read through the identification papers he’d discovered. “Harlan Sitwell. Says here he was a computer-systems analyst working for the National Security Agency.”

“United States?” J.B. asked.

“Yeah. Home address was in Maryland.”

The Armorer adjusted his hat and looked at Sitwell’s remains. “Well, I don’t get the feeling that this is Maryland. You see the paper jack sticking out of that wallet?”

Ryan opened it up and looked. The bills were odd colors, not the familiar green of the paper American jack the group had seen from time to time. Instead of men, some of these bills had a fat woman wearing a crown on them. He sorted through them quickly. “All dated before 2001. He’s been chilled for a long time.”

“One way,” J.B. replied, patting the cryo chamber, “or another.”

“Look,” Jak called, holding up the lantern. “Smoke goes through.”

Moving closer, pocketing the wallet he’d recovered after making sure no cockroaches lurked inside, Ryan peered up at the twisting spiral of black smoke coming from the lantern.

The smoke pooled against the ceiling, creating a twisting cushion that rolled continuously in on itself. But tendrils reached up near the space where a three-foot section of the ceiling joined the wall.

“Could be just a fissure,” J.B. suggested.

“No,” Jak said. “Has shape.” He pointed with a forefinger, inscribing a long rectangle.

Squinting, Ryan was just able to make it out. Jak had sharp eyes. “I’ll be back.” He returned to the other room and found a wooden box on a wire shelf that he thought would allow him to reach the ceiling once he stood on it.

“This chamber’s empty,” J.B. said, playing the lantern over the second cryo unit. He passed the lantern to Ryan, who handed it back to Jak. “If there were two, mebbe one of them got out alive.”

Ryan stood on the crate and still had to tiptoe to reach the ceiling. He held the panga in one hand and the SIG-Sauer in the other. Straining, he edged the knife blade into the space between the wall and ceiling. The smoke started slipping through the area even faster as dust tumbled down across the computer equipment.

Twisting the blade to give it a better angle to hold on, Ryan pulled the panga down. It took a lot of effort, because the panel was recessed. But in the end gravity helped, and it came swinging down.

Bolted inside the long, hinged panel that dropped nearly to the middle of the room was a ladder. Spiders, earthworms and other insects had made their homes in tangle of roots and dirt.

At the top of the ladder was a crust of dirt.

“Getting the feeling you’re crawling out of a grave?” J.B. asked.

“Least we’re crawling out,” Ryan said. He kicked the ladder hard twice, shaking off most of the live things. The odor of fresh-turned earth was muggy and thick. “If smoke was pulling through that, it can’t be too deep over us.”

“I got back, Ryan,” Jak said. “Ready when you are.”

“Let’s do it.” Ryan put away the panga and went up the ladder, holding his blaster. When he reached the earth mounded overhead, he tested it with his hand. It felt wet and cool, like turgid winter mud. The heavy clay content made it greasy to the touch.

“Look here,” J.B. said.

Craning his neck around, Ryan looked.

The Armorer ran his fingers across the top of the door Ryan had pulled down. “Fake grass. Got some stuff here, too, that looks like moss. Kind of worse for the wear.”

“Camouflage,” Jak said.

Ryan had it figured that way, too. He turned his attention to the earth. Bending his hand back, he drove the heel of his palm into the dirt. The section of earth quivered with the blow, and bits and pieces of it rained to the floor. Twisting and curling worms plopped wetly against the concrete. Dirt and one worm slapped against Ryan’s face, hanging for a moment before he brushed it away.

On the third blow the earth turned loose and fell away in large chunks. A cool breeze, wet with the promise of rain and night, swept into the room. It was bracing and made Ryan wish he’d dressed in something warmer. Still, wasn’t going to kill him.