James Axler – Keepers of the Sun

“One way to find out.” Ryan looked around. “Ready as you can ever be,” he said, pressing the index finger of his left hand against the small number pad and reading the numbers out loud. “Six and two and eight and three and four and one.”

For several seconds nothing happened, then a red light flashed on above the door. But there was no sound of gears. Jak pressed his ear to the smooth metal of the door and shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said.

“No sign of how many floors there are in this redoubt.” Krysty looked at the red light. “Always assuming that it is a redoubt.”

“Mebbe the code simply activates the elevator. And there’s some other kind of signal to actually make it go up and down.” Ryan peered at the panel. “Ah, stupes!”

“Who?” Mildred asked.

“Us. There’s two arrows on the control panel. One pointing up and the other one pointing down.” He pushed it. “Yeah, here she comes.”

They could all hear the high, characteristic whine of the elevator’s motor. In less than fifteen seconds there was a dull thump, the whirring stopped and the door slid back.

“Get in and look for something to hold the doors,” Ryan said. “Quick, Krysty.”

The redheaded woman darted inside the metal cubicle, looking to her left, seeing nothing and checking the other side. “Got it,” she said. “Nice and simple. ‘Door Open’ it says.”

There was just enough room for them all. A neat notice on the back said that the Rumplemeyer Elevator and Moving Walkway Company of Detroit, Michigan, recommended that no more than six adult persons should be on board at any one time, with a maximum combined weight of no more than twelve hundred pounds.

“Stand clear of the door,” said a tinny little voice from a small speaker in the ceiling.

“Let go of the Hold button,” Ryan said, positioning himself at the front of the cabin, the SIG-Sauer steady in his right hand. J.B. stood at his side, with the Uzi set on full-auto, ready to blow away any of the ungodly.

There was the hissing of pneumatic gears as the door slid closed, then a slight jolt before the elevator began to climb. It was always difficult to judge the speed of an elevator, except for the effect it had on your stomach. Ryan figured it wasn’t going very fast, and it certainly wasn’t going very far, either. After no more than about a hundred feet, and passing no intermediate floors on the way up, it jolted to a stop at the top of the shaft.

“Candlewick bedspreads, children’s toys and haberdashery,” Doc said quietly.

“Stand clear of the door,” repeated the tinny little voice.

Ryan’s finger tightened on the trigger of the SIG-Sauer, taking up the first pressure.

The door opened a little way, less than six inches, then changed its mind and closed again before Ryan could even glimpse anything outside. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, it finally slid back all the way.

They were in another corridor, but this was much more like something in a small office block. It was painted off-white, with a darker ceiling. Neon lights glittered at regular intervals, and doors opened on either side. In neat bronze pots, standing on low bench tables, were a number of tiny trees with twisted branches.

“Those are bonsai trees,” Doc hissed in a piercing stage whisper,

Ryan was standing still, listening, gesturing as a sudden afterthought for Krysty to again press the control that held the door open.

The place was completely silent. A painting hung on one wall. From where he stood, Ryan couldn’t make it out clearly, but it looked like a strange, stylized picture of a foaming wave breaking on a shore. A short distance along the corridor was what seemed to be some kind of shrine.

Ryan stepped out into the passage, followed by J.B., with the others at their heels. Krysty let go of the control, and the door hissed shut.

The doors revealed empty offices, most without windows. One had heavy sec-steel shutters across what looked like a casement, and Jak slipped in to try it, shaking his head when he found it firmly locked.