James Axler – Watersleep

Jak eyed the patch. “Don’t look like me.”

“Sure, it does. Just picture yourself with your hair all tucked up under the helmet,” J.B. said.

“Wonder what it means?” Ryan mused. “I checked out the others. All four of these stupes have that same patch. Two on a jacket, one on the back pocket of a pair of jeans and another on a neckerchief. They must’ve been together at one time until some­body drew down on somebody else.”

“Hot pipe, Dad! We’re in luck,” Dean yelled from across the room. Ryan squelched a quick flash of an­noyance over the fact the boy had gone off alone, and turned to look at what he was talking about.

Dean was standing at the elevator, but the boy wasn’t alone. Next to the youth Doc was focused on the black elevator call button.

“Young Dean is right, my dear fellow,” Doc said to Ryan, who had quickly joined them. “The elevator appears to be operating, and I do believe it is currently on this floor of the redoubt.”

The rest of the group approached for a closer look. The recessed button was indeed lit and glowing.

“Shall I put my best finger forward?” Doc asked.

After getting the nod from Ryan, Doc pressed the call button for the elevator. The doors obligingly slid open, revealing the empty, coffinlike cabin inside.

“I guess no one wants off on this floor,” Mildred said quietly. “Last stop to oblivion.”

None of the group ever relished stepping into a redoubt’s elevator. Too many things could go wrong. Too many things had gone wrong. Still, it was the most direct way up and out. The dull gray walls of­fered scant comfort, but they also promised access to the surface, a promise that was enticing despite the danger.

“After you, ladies,” Doc said, bowing deeply at the waist and gesturing grandiosely toward the ele­vator’s interior.

“Thanks, I think,” Krysty replied, her red prehen­sile hair curling slightly at her nape as she walked inside. No one but Ryan noticed the shift in her al­most sentient tresses. Krysty’s hair was about the only outward manifestation of her latent mutant abilities, and responded to her moods. The way the strands were tightening, Ryan knew she was nervous about entering.

They all were.

Mildred and J.B. entered, followed by Jak and Dean. Ryan gestured to Doc, and the old man stepped in, accidentally stepping on Dean’s booted foot. “Par­don me, young Cawdor. I fear it is getting a bit crowded in here.”

“Don’t worry, Doc. Think of it as being cozy,” Krysty said.

Ryan glanced a final time over his shoulder and placed himself in the last clear spot at the front of the elevator car.

“Going up?” Doc asked.

“Why not?” Ryan replied. “But when we reach the top, I want everyone on a triple red.” He unholstered the SIG-Sauer pistol to back up his words. The rest of the group followed suit with their own weap­ons.

Doc, by nature of his position in front of the con­trols, had taken on the unofficial role of elevator op­erator for this trip. He pressed the Up button. The doors slid smoothly shut, and after an almost unnoticeable lurch, the elevator begin to rise.

“Wonder what took out the stairs, Dad?” Dean asked.

“Good question. I was wondering that myself.”

“High explosives, mebbe,” Krysty offered. “Or I guess there could’ve been a quake around here. Even swamplands aren’t safe from earthquakes. Not any­more.”

Overhead the fluorescent tubes flickered once, twice, then exploded in a series of sharp pops, like the echoes of a small-caliber pistol being fired in rapid succession. Sparks filtered down from above as the elevator car shuddered. Hidden machinery gave off a terrific squawk, and all was still.

As the last spark fell brightly to the floor and died, the confined room went dark.

“Fireblast,” Ryan hissed. “The elevator’s out.”

Chapter Three

“Everybody stay still,” Ryan ordered. “Give your eyes time to adjust.”

“No place to go but up,” J.B. said, peering at the ceiling.

“I know. We’re going to have to climb out of the car.”

“Sweatbox in here,” Jak said. “Go out. Climb quick.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“Come over here. Let me give you a boost. I want you to feel along the upper panels of the ceiling. There should be some kind of an access hatch.”