Time spike Page 4

  Chapter 5 Captain Blacklock took his hat off, ran his fingers through his hair, and then slid the cloth and plastic blue and black cap back on. Three of the four teams sent to walk the prison's outer perimeter had already used their two-ways to call in a report.

  Lieutenant Rod Hulbert's small band was the only one still not accounted for. That had the captain worried. Even if they hadn't checked everything they wanted to check, Hulbert should have at least checked in. "Okay," Andy called. "I want everyone without an assignment inside. Get behind the walls and at your duty station. Joe, you drive into town, see what's up." He tossed the lieutenant his radio. "It has a six-mile radius. Broadcast continually; use the maintenance channel. If you wind up having to go to the far side of town and know you're out of range, keep talking anyway. Find out what you can and then get a report to the state boys. Let them know our communications are out. Then get back here." "Do I take the state truck or my car?" "Take the state vehicle." Andy looked at the stars, then at the red glow to the north of them, and then toward town. "If you've punched out, punch back in on your way to the garage. If the clock's not working, pencil in the time and initial it. I'll sign your card later, but this way your butt's covered if something goes wrong."

  The radio, now clipped to Joe's belt, awoke. The static had disappeared."D-David-23-10-3000, 10-2000. Repeat. D-David 23-10-3000, 10-2000." A guard was down and a prisoner was out of his cell. Andy caught Lieutenant Joe Schuler by the sleeve, and shook his head. The man had started toward the administration building and the entrance to the prison as soon as the call was completed. "No way, Joe. I'll take care of this. You get the hell into town! We have to know what's happening." The captain then took off at a dead run. There were three double sets of iron gates, two heavy steel doors and three checkpoints between him and the downed guard. "How bad?" Andy asked, coming through the door of D-house. It had taken him just under six minutes to arrive. Greg looked up from the desk he was sitting at, then back down. "We found the knife we've been looking for all day." "Who caught it?" "Brown. Elaine Brown. She's one of the new recruits. Black woman.

  Good-looking as all hell and a sweet kid to boot: just barely twenty-one. They shouldn't hire women like her. She still had her whole life ahead of her. And she shouldn't have to deal with the scum we have in here. She was checking for quake damage and got jumped."

  Andy didn't bother to remind Lowry that even good-looking twenty-one-year olds had to eat. And in this part of southern Illinois that meant a job at the prison, if you were lucky. "Who had the knife?" "Boyd Chrissman." Andy looked around. None of the prisoners or guards were to be seen. The extraction team had handled the situation, then left. They were good. Boyd would be in the hole or the infirmary by now, depending on how much resistance he gave. The guards would be back at their regular duty posts. "How bad was she hurt?" "Brown?

  Pretty bad. She's in the infirmary. Got her in the gut. Melissa Glasser found her. Luckily they both had enough sense to leave it in place till the nurses got here." "They taking her out to the hospital?" Greg shook his head. "We can't move her. We can't raise the hospital, any of the doctors, the police, the National Guard, no one.

  She stays until we find out what's happening." "You can't do that, Greg. She could die. We're not equipped for anything major. At this time of the night, all we have are nurses, not doctors. You have to load her up in a state car and just hope the hospital is experiencing nothing more than communication problems." Andy turned toward the door. "Wait." "Why?" "Andy, it's not that simple." Greg stood up.

  "Lieutenant Hulbert took six men to do a sweep of the west side of the prison. When they finished, he didn't call in a report, didn't want a panic. But… I don't know… I seem to think no matter what we do, we'll have a panic. There are just some things you can't keep a secret, at least not for long." Andy ground his teeth. "What's going onnow?" "It seems the river is missing." "Missing?" "Yeah. The mighty Missisip is gone. Right along with the coal docks." Greg made a strange sound, a cross between a sob and choking. "The dock, the railroad tracks, and about eight million bucks worth of conveyer equipment is gone, too." "What are you talking about?" Andy's headache jumped from pure misery to a light-flashing, stomach churning migraine. "Did we get bombed?" He couldn't think straight. Nothing was making any sense. "A bomb wouldn't dry up the river and leave us untouched." Greg's voice was gruff. Raspy. "Yeah, you're right." "And it wouldn't leave two-hundred-year-old trees standing where water used to be. And there wouldn't be waist-high grass growing in rich, black topsoil where an asphalt road was thirty minutes ago." Andy looked around the cellblock's entry area. It looked solid enough. Not like a dream. The second hand on the wall clock was circling the numbers at a steady rate of sixty seconds per minute. The lights were dim, on generator power, but no more so than was expected. His flashlight, gripped in his right hand till his knuckles showed white, was the appropriate weight. This wasnot a nightmare. "Where's Hulbert?" "At the infirmary." Greg Lowry looked every minute of his sixty-plus years. His eyes seemed glazed, and his hands shook. "I feel like I'm walking around in the Twilight Zone. This isn't right." Andy shook his head. "I prefer romantic comedies and action flicks." "I don't think what you like counts for too much, Andy. At least not right now. We're just going to have to get a handle on whatever this is, and do it pretty quick, too. See 'em watching us?" He nodded up, toward the tier upon tier of cells-metal cages stacked five stories high. Andy turned his head and looked. Here and there prisoners stood at the bars, arms extended through the iron. Andy saw black skin, brown skin and white.

  He saw tattoos. He saw fists. "I think we're in deep shit," Greg said.

  "And I think it's going to get deeper." Halfheartedly, he waved a hand at the prisoners. "As different as those men are, they all have one thing in common: they're on theinside of the cages. For now." He seemed to shrink a little inside his uniform. "I just pray like hell no aliens pop out of the walls." Andy didn't laugh. Greg Lowry was serious. And scared. "I'm going to check on Brown and talk to Rod Hulbert. I want you to get someone down here to relieve you, then meet me in the conference room. I'll join you in about a half hour. Try to get all the department heads there. The afternoon and night shift."

  Greg nodded but didn't move toward the door. He just stood behind the metal desk, his face slack. "I think that's probably a good idea. But you better send someone else. I can't go." The man half-collapsed in the padded swivel chair. He fumbled in his shirt pocket and pulled out a small bottle of pills. "Nitro. I've been using them for a couple of months now. And this has been… too much." Andy took the radio sitting on the desk and fingered the send button. "Don't," Lowry muttered. "It's not an emergency. At least not right now. I just need to rest a little." He pulled a kerchief from his pocket and mopped at the perspiration on his forehead. "I just need to rest, and get whatever is happening straight in my head. If I could get things straight, I'd feel better. I know I would." Andy didn't put the two-way back on the desk. Instead, he keyed the send button and radioed for Hulbert to send a relief guard to D-block. He also told him to send a cart for Greg. "You're going, Lowry. I'm not giving you a choice in the matter. A dead man is a useless man, and right now I need you to stay alive. When this is over, if you want to commit suicide by pushing too hard, that's your business. But that's not happening tonight." Greg Lowry nodded and nodded. He couldn't stop the slow, up and down movement of his head. He knew Andy was right. He had already taken more of the nitro than he was supposed to take. And he was still in pain. He needed to see someone medical, and he needed to do it soon. "Andy, I'm not arguing. I just don't know what to do. I don't know what's going on." "No one does, Greg." Blacklock kept one hand on Lowry's shoulder and both eyes on the clock hanging on the wall opposite the desk. He watched the second hand crawl around its face. "Just hang in there, friend, and take it easy. There is going to be a logical explanation for all of this; you'll see. Something weird-damn weird-but logical." Greg closed his eyes and tried to relax. The pain was back. His heart f
elt like it was caught in a vise and was being squeezed tighter and tighter. His left arm was numb, and his fingers tingled. His neck hurt, and his jaw ached. He tried to breathe slowly and easily, but his chest felt like someone had set a hundred-pound weight dead center on it. He tried to get his mind off the pain. He thought of his dog, alone in his two-bedroom trailer. By this time he knew the food and water bowls would be empty. And he thought of his grandson. He had promised to help the boy with his science project this weekend. They were going to build a two-way radio just like the one Greg had built with his own grandfather a half century before. And he thought of his wife, dead now for almost three years. He had bought a bunch of carnations from the gas station three blocks from the prison. They were for her grave. Pink carnations, because pink had been her favorite color. He was going to stop by the cemetery on his way home from work. He hadn't been out to see her in over a week, and that made him miss her even more than usual. He thought about the half-dozen pink flowers wrapped in green paper, the two spring topped Eveready, 6-volt, classic lantern batteries he had bought for Richard's project, the phone bill that needed paying and the utility bill on the nightstand next to his bed; and of Barky sitting on the back of the couch looking out the window, waiting for him to come home. Pain bloomed in his chest like a dark flower, and then he stopped thinking at all.

  Chapter 6 Andy paced the length of the hall separating the holding area and examination room. He knew exactly what the nurse would say once the door opened and she ushered him in. Greg Lowry was dead. He was dead before Hulbert arrived with his gurney. He died before the nurses, who were now working their third shift in a row, ever saw him.

  He stopped pacing and looked down the dimly lit hall that led to the medical records room. He had never been in there. All records were kept under lock and key, and the only ones with access were the nurses, doctors and psych department employees. None of this made any sense, he thought, rubbing his pounding head. He wasn't worried about the prisoner who tried to escape. It happened, especially when you were dealing with men who would be in their sixties when they got out of their cage. He wasn't even all that worried about Brown. It happened. Guards got jumped. What he was worried about was the other stuff. That was the part that made no sense. Andy looked at Rod Hulbert, who was standing next to the outside door. The lieutenant had given him a terse report and then spent his time looking out the window watching the cell houses lining the road inside the prison walls. Hulbert was tense. Ready for action. A lifetime of weekends and vacations traipsing through the limestone bluffs of southern Illinois with fellow survivalists had prepared him well. He had already skipped over the why, willing to let that wait till later, and was concentrating on the now. Andy watched him, envying the way he had adjusted to the situation. Be aware of your environment. Know what is going on around you. These were the words all employees who worked inside the walls lived by. People had a habit of dying when the words were forgotten. But this wasn't a prisoner uprising. This was something different. Andy couldn't concentrate. He was having trouble even recognizing his surroundings. Rod Hulbert's voice cut through the silence. "There's movement in the yard, and it isn't ours. All staff is accounted for." The last count showed everyone locked inside their cell. There had to be a wall breach. Which house had it? Andy gave a silent laugh and glanced at the mirror just inside the door. It didn't matter which house. Inside this facility, unauthorized prisoners wandering the grounds were dangerous no matter where they came from.

  The mirror showed a dark yard, but not so dark Andy couldn't see shadows working their way across the open area toward the machine shop. "Infirmary-11, M control, 10-2000, moving southwest toward machine shop." Rod moved from the door to a window, tracking the prisoners. "Possible C, Charles-house, not sure." "How many?" Andy hissed, rushing to the window. Rod hesitated then shook his head.

  "Looks to be at least four, maybe more," he said, keying the radio so the control room would know. Andy stared out the window, trying to count the moving shadows. How many were loose? Who was loose? Were they armed? Could he get help from the outside if things escalated? He shook his head again then waved toward the armory. Rod nodded, broke regulations by switching his radio to the off position, and then slipped out the door. Andy rushed to the examining room and pushed open the door. "Glasser, we got 'em AWOL, let's move." "I heard."

  Melissa Glasser was removing a blood-soaked paper gown. She had been assisting the nurses. Elaine Brown was on the table, an I.V. of saline solution flowing into her right arm. "Give me a sec." She tossed the soiled gown into a red receptacle marked as biohazard waste, then followed the captain to the door. "I'm going to the armory. I want you to position yourself so you can see if the prisoners leave the machine shop. If they do, you are not to intercept. Call only, even if it's a single prisoner." She nodded, checked the battery reading on her radio, and then took off across the street. She slipped into the dark alley between the buildings. Once outside the infirmary, it didn't take Andy long to catch up with Hulbert. With their radios silent, and their twelve-inch steel and aluminum flashlights held like clubs, they made their way to the armory, quickly and quietly. "Who's the E-team leader for tonight?" Andy asked, as they pushed the heavy metal door open. "And who's running K-9?" Report had been interrupted and Andy didn't know who was on the afternoon shift's extraction team, or its dog unit. He wasn't even sure who had made it inside the wall for the midnight shift. "Who's available out of our first responders?" Hulbert shrugged and said, "Us, I guess." He started pulling vests and face shields from the cabinets. Andy grabbed the keys from the lockbox and opened the weapons cabinet. This was the part of the job he hated.

  Unlocking the cabinet, passing out the guns and the ammunition.

  Watching everyone's eyes. Worried someone would panic and shoot when they shouldn't, or not shoot when they should. He'd seen both happen.

  "We just finished the debriefing from the last breakout." Kathleen said, breathing heavily. She had half-jogged, half-walked from south tower to the armory in under three minutes. "Who's making a run for it now?" "Don't know. It was too dark to make out anything but a few shadows. We think they're from Charlie-house." "That would make sense.

  It's the only building we haven't sent inspectors through. Everywhere they've gone they've seen damage, just not enough to be a major problem." Kathleen looked toward what was left of the parking lot. "We haven't heard from," her eyes dropped to the clipboard she held in her hand, "Mark Suplinskas, in over a half hour." She was answering his unasked question. She then flipped the paper and checked the list on the second page. "All the others have reported in within the last fifteen minutes. Mark's new. He worked three to eleven, graduated from that last class." Lieutenant Terrance Collins walked into the room.

  "We found three breaks in the exterior wall facing the river, but only one of them is large enough for a small man to wiggle through. The towers have been notified and I have two armed C.O. s watching it.

  I've also posted C.O. s at the other two areas. They're not carrying anything more than flashlights and radios." Facing the river? Andy looked toward Hulbert who gave his head a slight shake. The missing Mississippi River was not common knowledge, at least not yet. Okay, the outer perimeter was as secure as they could make it. Now for the inside of the prison. "Kathleen, see if you can raise Suplinskas, and find out…" Damn."Have we heard from Joe Schuler?" "He's been broadcasting almost continuously. But most of what he's saying doesn't make sense. He's on his way back. Should be here within the next ten to twenty minutes." Kathleen picked up the notebook she had been using to record all communications from the three two-ways she had been using more or less continuously for the last hour. "He's the only one outside the walls we've heard from. And we're the only ones he's seen.

  He says the roads to town are gone. Same for the houses and businesses." She gave a strained laugh. "He says everything, the entire town is gone. There's nothing but trees between us and a volcano about twenty miles out." Andy wanted to scream.
There were no volcanoes in the southern part of Illinois. There were rivers and lakes and hills. No mountains. No volcanoes. "Okay," he said between clenched teeth, "this is too fucked up for us to deal with in the dark. I want everyone hunkered down for the night. The prisoners on the prowl can't get out, so let's just button everything down. Pair everyone up. One sleeper, one awake. There's no telling how long we're going to be on our own. I want radio contact every five minutes from now till sunrise. Station a couple of shooters outside the machine shop. We'll just isolate the bastards till morning." "That's only about thirty minutes from now," Terry Collins said. "And when the sun comes up it's going to be in the northwest." He shrugged. "That's not a guess. Before I came in Jeff Edelman had me check it out inside the east tower. The sun is already starting to rise. And another thing, he has one of those watches with a built-in compass. He says the magnetic pole has shifted. It's now somewhere southeast of us." "Who is Jeff Edelman?" Andy asked. "And how doeshe know all this?" "New guard. He is-was-a geology graduate student at the university," Collins answered. "He had to break off his studies because his mother got sick and the family needed the money. And according to him, everything is wrong. Even the position of the moon and the stars." "That's impossible," Kathleen whispered. "Yeah, but impossible or not,"

  Collins said, "the guy's right. If you don't believe him, just look at the sky. You don't have to know squat about what's supposed to be up there to know it's off." Andy, putting on his gear, remembered the look of the night sky and felt something inside him shift abruptly.

  The headache was gone. So was the indecision. Now all he felt was nervous energy. He cinched his vest snug and slipped on his leather gloves. "Okay. Kathleen, tell Joe when he gets back from town, stay put. We'll join him after we get things inside the walls under control. Collins, get someone over to Charlie-house. Find out what is going on there. I'm going back to the machine shop. Hulbert, get the E-team, first responders, and K-nine put together, I want them all out on this." He picked up one of the assault rifles and a clip, then pulled his faceplate into position. "I guess we can't wait. Let's gather up our strays before aliens start popping out of the walls."