“Derrick Montgomery,” the man said.
“Viv Montgomery,” the woman said. She wore a wedding ring. “The last thing I remember, we were drinking tea next to our tent, getting ready to go to sleep.”
“In Oregon,” Derrick said. “But that’s not Oregon out there. This looks like Colorado or Wyoming.”
“Stand back.” Ray grabbed another chair and stalked past them into the front hall, where he swung the chair at the window to the left of the door. He struck repeatedly. The impacts made the window vibrate but otherwise had no effect.
“Son of a bitch,” Ray said.
Derrick reached for the latch.
“No,” Amanda warned. “It’s electrified.”
Derrick jerked back his hand.
“Find the electrical panel,” Bethany said. “Shut off the juice.”
“I like the way you think.” Ray went through the dining room toward the kitchen.
“We shouldn’t split up,” Amanda told them.
They hurried to follow Ray and found him standing in the kitchen, staring down at a trapdoor handle.
“Maybe it’s electrified, too,” he said.
“I’ve got an idea.” Amanda pulled a hair from her head, wetted it with saliva, and eased it toward the handle. When it touched the metal, she felt a tingle and jerked her hand away. “Yes, it’s electrified.”
“Test the handle on the cupboard under the sink,” Viv told Amanda.
Wondering why the cupboard was important, Amanda obeyed. “I don’t feel any current.”
Viv yanked the doors open and groped under the sink. She pushed aside a long-handled brush, a bottle of dish detergent, and a box of scouring pads. “Yes!” She straightened, holding a pair of long yellow gloves, the kind used for washing dishes.
Rubber gloves, Amanda realized.
Viv put them on and went directly to the kitchen door. She hesitated, then tapped the handle with a gloved hand. Nothing happened. “We’re out of here.” But when she pushed on the handle, it wouldn’t move.
“There’s no key hole,” Bethany said. “It must have an electronic lock.”
“Which takes us back to the trapdoor and trying to find the electrical panel,” Ray said.
With her hand protected, Viv lifted the trapdoor. They stared at the darkness below.
“I don’t see a light switch.” Amanda turned toward the counter next to the sink and put the strand of hair against the drawer handles. When she didn’t feel a tingle, she yanked at the drawers.
One contained a hammer, a screwdriver, wrenches, and a flashlight.
Derrick aimed the light through the open trapdoor, revealing a short, wooden ladder and a dirt floor. “Not deep enough to be a basement.”
“To move around down there, you need to be on your hands and knees,” Bethany added.
“Any volunteers?”
No one answered.
“Hell, I’ll do it.” Ray crouched. “Anything to get out of here. Give me the flashlight.”
“Wait,” Amanda said.
“What’s the matter?”
Amanda studied the ladder. “Shine the light over there.”
It revealed an electrical wire attached to a rung in the steps.
“Change of plan,” Viv said. “Back to the door. With the gloves protecting me, I can use the hammer and a screwdriver to take the hinge pins off.”
“Excellent.”
But none of them had said that word.
“Who…” Derrick peered up.
From the ceiling, the voice continued, “Really, I’m impressed.”
4
Amanda’s heart lurched.
“Jesus,” Ray said.
Everyone jerked toward the side of the kitchen and gaped above them.
“I never expected you to demonstrate your problem-solving talents so quickly.” The voice belonged to a man.
It was deep, sonorous, like a TV announcer’s. Amanda recognized it from the recording that had wakened her.
“A speaker hidden in the ceiling,” Bethany said.
“But how did he know what we…” Ray studied the upper corners of the room. His eyes narrowed. “Cameras. They’re small, but once you know what you’re seeing…”
Amanda concentrated and saw tiny apertures in each corner, near the ceiling. She went through the archway into the dining room and frowned upward. “Cameras here also.” Something seemed to turn over in her stomach. “The house must be lousy with them.”
“Welcome to Scavenger,” the voice announced.
“Scavenger?” Derrick asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Please, go into the dining room and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll explain.”
“To hell with that.” Viv grabbed the hammer and screwdriver from the drawer. Still protected by the gloves, she rammed the screwdriver under a hinge pin in the kitchen door and whacked the hammer against it. As metal rang, she knocked the pin free.
“Please, go into the dining room,” the voice repeated.
Viv knocked another pin free. She started on the third.
“This isn’t productive. You have only forty hours,” the voice said. “Don’t waste time, Vivian.”
“I’m Viv! Nobody calls me ‘Vivian’! I hate it!”
“Step away from the door.”
Amanda felt cold. “I think we’d better do what he wants.”
“Listen to her, Vivian,” the voice suggested.
“Stop calling me ‘Vivian’!”
“Leave the door alone,” Amanda said. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“If you knock that third pin free and attempt to pry the door open…” the voice said.
“Yeah? If I do, what’ll happen?” Viv demanded.
“The building will explode.”
“I don’t believe you.”
The voice became silent.
“You’re lying!” Viv shouted.
The silence deepened.
“Yeah, why don’t we go into the dining room?” Ray suggested.
Viv kept glaring toward the ceiling.
Derrick went over and touched her shoulder. Her glare softened only a little. “It won’t hurt to let him tell us what this is about,” he said. “If we think we don’t have an alternative, we can always pry open the door later.”
The voice broke its silence. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll have an alternative.”
5
Wary, they entered the dining room and sat at the table, glancing nervously at each other and then at the ceiling.
Ray took a Zippo lighter from a pocket. He fidgeted, opening and closing its chrome lid. “Anybody got a cigarette?”
Amanda and the others shook their heads.
“Too much to hope for.”
“Let me tell you about Raymond Morgan,” the voice said.
Ray stopped snapping the lighter’s cap.
“Former lieutenant. United States Marine Corps aviator. Raymond is a hero.”
“No,” Ray said.
“His story was widely reported in the media,” the voice continued. “He was flying a reconnaissance mission when a shoulder-launched missile struck his aircraft. This took place in a mountainous area of Iraq with a strong insurgent presence.”
Again, the reference to Iraq made Amanda think of Frank. Where was he? What happened to him? She prayed he wasn’t dead.
“The missile strike occurred at dusk. In fading light, Raymond parachuted to the ground. This was both good and bad. Dusk prevented the insurgents from aiming at a clear target. But the poor light made it difficult for Raymond to see where he landed. He struck a rocky slope and rolled, severely bruising himself and spraining his left ankle. Regardless of his pain, he hobbled all night to escape the insurgents. Just before dawn, he covered himself with rocks. Throughout the day, he remained motionless under their weight while the heat of the sun scorched him. Judging from sounds, he estimated that the insurgents came within fifty feet of him. As long as they hunted him, Raymond didn’t dare activate a homing device that would have brought rescue helicopters. After all, the signal would have lured the rescuers to the insurgents. Thus began an ordeal of hide-and-hunt in which Raymond hobbled from ridge to ridge each night and buried himself each day. He made the rations in his emergency kit last as long as possible. After that, he ate bugs. When his canteen was emptied, he drank water from stagnant pools. These made him feverish, but he never gave up. Through determination and ingenuity, discipline and self-reliance, he persisted for ten days until he finally outmaneuvered his hunters. U.S. intelligence sources later determined that the insurgents decided he was dead because no one could possibly have survived as long as he did. Only after he reached territory that wasn’t dangerous to the rescue helicopters did he activate his location transmitter. He lost thirty pounds and received a Silver Star. That was three years ago. Raymond is now a pilot for a regional air service in Missouri.”