“It’s worth a shot.” Graham frowned. “By the way, we’re going to have company soon.”
I trained my eyes into the distance. The throbbing, pulsing glow had nearly doubled in size since I’d last seen it. “Then I guess we’d better hurry.”
“These clothes won’t cut it.” Beverly glanced at her gray tank top and black yoga pants. “We need disguises.”
“Excuse me.”
I spun toward the new voice. “Ben?”
Ben Marvin stepped out of the shadows. He held a neat pile of camouflage uniforms and several pairs of boots in his hands. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”
Chapter 70
Newly dressed in a too-small uniform, I hustled through the dense forest to the edge of the main clearing. It was empty. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the other clearing was nearly empty as well. Apparently, the workers were taking refuge elsewhere while the soldiers joined forces to confront the oncoming mob.
We entered the clearing. I lingered at the edge long enough to pick up a loose pistol that had been carelessly left behind on an equipment case.
The wind whistled. The air started to shriek, louder and louder, until I could barely think. I followed the noise to Shrieker Tower. Its near-vertical sides rose before me, eventually melting into the dark sky. It looked daunting, even to me. How did the Caborn-Welborn warriors manage to scale it all those years ago?
The wind died down. The shrieking waned and then disappeared altogether. I stared at the mesa for another few seconds, consumed with thoughts of family. What had Justin thought of the mighty rock structure? Had it played a role in his disappearing act?
I twisted toward the clearing. Stakes were plunged into the ground in various places. Long strips of fluorescent yellow tape connected them to a longer stake positioned close to the mesa’s southwestern edge.
“This looks like the pipe system,” I said. “K.J.’s people must’ve marked it out before the Berserkers were spotted.”
Beverly nodded. “We need shovels and light.”
“On it.” Graham twisted around and hurried to the edge of the clearing. Moments later, he returned with two shovels and a couple of large flashlights.
Grabbing a flashlight and shovel, I walked to the longer stake. Quickly, I rechecked the diagram. “Okay, the smoke machine should be under here.”
Beverly pulled the stake out of the ground, detached the many strands of tape, and tossed it to the side.
Turning away, I made several adjustments to the pistol. Then I handed the weapon to Ben. “Hold this.”
He blanched at the sight of it. “I’ve never used one before.”
“It’s easy.” I showed him how the safety worked as well as how to aim and fire. “Just keep an eye out while we dig.”
“Do you really expect me to shoot anyone?”
“No. Just keep a lookout.”
Nervously, he took the pistol. Then he turned around and focused his attention on the clearing.
I stabbed my shovel into the earth where the stake had been located. Beverly took the second shovel and attacked the area from the other side.
If this had been a typical excavation, we wouldn’t have even been digging at this point. Instead, we would’ve been utilizing Emma to get an exact fix on all underground features. Only then would we begin to clear the soil one layer at a time, preserving everything along with the surrounding archaeological context.
But this was no typical excavation.
As I dug, I thought more about Dad, about his ill-fated search for Justin. I’d learned so much, but one thing still bothered me… why had he committed suicide? Was he really that depressed about his inability to find answers? Had Justin’s disappearance ultimately driven him insane?
Gradually, a small hole developed at my feet. Then Beverly’s shovel clanged loudly. I knelt down and studied a small, dirt-crusted object. “It’s one of the pipes.” I studied it closely. “It’s pretty thin, about two inches in diameter.”
“What’s inside it?” Graham asked.
“Nothing.” Using my finger, I scratched away some dirt. “The interior is singed and blackened with a thin layer of soot. I think it’s safe to say this was definitely used to deliver smoke to the surface.”
“That was easy.” Ben shot us an over-the-shoulder glance. “I can’t believe no one ever thought to search underground.”
“Why would they?” I asked.
“Are you serious? One minute, the trucks are here. The next, they’re gone in a cloud of smoke. If it were me, I’d have dug up this whole area.”
“Would you? Would you really? Ten enormous trucks disappear and you’d look underground rather than, I don’t know, the nearest road?”
He hesitated. “At the very least, they should’ve scanned this entire clearing.”
“Easier said than done. The modern version of ground penetrating radar might’ve been patented in the 1920s. But it didn’t reach broad acceptance until the 1970s.”
“Fine, but I still find it hard to believe no one noticed the holes.”
“What holes?” Graham asked.
Ben nodded at the pipe. “That pipe and the other ones might’ve been hidden underground, but the smoke still had to reach the surface. Hence, there had to be holes.
“True, but the holes didn’t need to be very big.”
“Plus, there was lots of snow that day,” Beverly added. “The ground was covered with it. That would’ve obscured the holes.”
“Or the exact opposite,” Ben replied. “The smoke must’ve been hot if it singed that pipe. It would’ve melted the snow around each hole, leaving little craters in its wake.”
“According to Milt’s notes, snow was falling fast that evening,” I said. “It would’ve quickly covered up the melted snow. Plus, he and a couple of soldiers ran into this clearing while the smoke was still thick. They were looking for trucks, not melted snow. They probably trampled the craters, destroying all evidence in the process.”
As he turned back to the clearing, I stabbed my shovel into the dirt and continued to dig. Meanwhile, Beverly worked the opposite side of the pipe and gradually our small hole began to deepen.
After about ten minutes, we began to pick up speed. The hole grew wider, deeper. I ran into a layer of rock and adjusted, digging around it.
Before long, distant shouts and light scuffling sounds began to float into our ears. We continued to dig until our entire bodies were below ground-level. Then my shovel clanged against metal and I gave Beverly a knowing look.
She jabbed her shovel into some soil. “Give me some light.”
Graham adjusted his flashlight and I got my first look at the smoke machine. It was made of steel and rested upon a stone platform. About a foot of packed dirt surrounded it on all sides along with what appeared to be rock walls and a rock ceiling.
I poked the packed dirt atop the machine, causing large chunks to break off and crumble to my feet. Beverly followed my lead and together, we worked to clear away the soil.
Gradually, we uncovered the metal box’s topmost surface. One foot, two feet, three feet of metal plating was exposed to air for the first time in decades.
I climbed into the makeshift niche and continued to brush soil out of the way. My arms started to burn. My fingertips grew tired and sore.
Abruptly, my hand plunged through the dirt and into open air. Twisting my wrist, I felt around. “There’s definitely a cavity back there.”
A few feet over, Beverly continued to claw away at the soil. Then her hand plunged through the dirt and entered the cavity as well.
Thanks to the dim light provided by Graham’s flashlight, I saw a dark void ahead of me. Turning onto my back, I saw the rock ceiling was cracked, but unbroken. “Justin didn’t tunnel out this space,” I realized. “It was already here.”