The last of the victims got off the bus, and the two soldiers, or whatever they were, followed them inside. The bus door closed, and the vehicle pulled out, its mission complete.
“We gotta go inside,” I said.
“I knew you were going to say that,” Tori replied.
We got out of the Explorer and jogged toward the stadium. We didn’t go to the same gate that the victims had entered. Instead, we found a set of stairs leading to a higher level and ran up. Our search for a way in didn’t take long. Every last gate was wide open. We slipped inside and found ourselves in the deserted mezzanine. There were no Fenway Franks sizzling or game programs being hawked. There were no peanuts, popcorn, or Cracker Jacks to be found. The place was dead.
Tori and I moved cautiously, hugging close to the walls. There was no telling when one of those soldiers might appear. As we made our way closer to the tunnel that passed under the stands and led to the field, we could hear that the stadium wasn’t as dead as we thought. There was activity happening on the diamond, and it wasn’t a baseball game.
“It sounds like a construction site,” I whispered to Tori.
There was the distinct sound of machinery and hammering and drilling that jumbled together into a storm of white noise. We moved cautiously along the tunnel until we got our first view of the field.
It looked nothing like it did when the Red Sox were playing.
We came out onto the second level of the stadium to look down on what was definitely a construction site. The entire field, including the baseball diamond and the outfield, was gone. In its place was the skeleton of the massive structure that we had seen from outside. It was the frame of a giant dome that covered most of what used to be the field. Metallic, silver skin was being applied to the outside but had only gotten a third of the way to the top, which allowed us to see inside. Looking through the girders showed us that the interior was going to be a vast space, like a circus tent. Or a giant steel igloo. On one side of the dome was the frame of a giant door that had yet to be installed. It looked big enough to drive a truck through.
As incredible a sight as this was, there was something else going on that was even more stunning.
“That’s how it went up so fast,” Tori said, numb.
Workers were scattered throughout the construction site. Hundreds of them. They were all laboring under the watchful eye of several more soldiers. Many of the workers I recognized from the Hall.
The truth became all too clear. People from the Hall weren’t being executed; they were being used as slave labor to build this monstrous structure. It suddenly made sense why we were being treated so well. We were being fed and kept healthy so we could build this contraption.
The realization that we were being groomed as slaves wasn’t the most disturbing truth we discovered. The workers were moving with impossible speed. Men lifted girders that had to weigh ten times their body weight. Women were hauling material and wielding jackhammers that were almost as big as they were. They swarmed over the structure, dangling from the frame, moving pieces into place with inhuman strength. It was like watching a movie play out in fast motion. It was an impossible sight…
…that was all too possible.
“It’s the Ruby,” I said, stunned. “They were all forced to take it.”
The purpose of the Ruby had suddenly become clear.
“How great is this?” came an enthusiastic voice from the tunnel behind us.
It was a voice that I recognized but never expected to hear again.
Tori and I froze. She knew the voice too. Neither of us wanted to turn to see if it was true.
“I heard you landed at the Hall, but I’m surprised to see you here at Fenway so soon. You weren’t scheduled to start work until next week.”
“This is impossible,” Tori said in a strained whisper.
I knew it wasn’t. Nothing was impossible. Not anymore.
“But that’s cool,” the guy said. “We can always use a few more hands.”
I turned slowly. Though I knew who I would see, it was still a shock, for we had witnessed him being shot dead on a bluff overlooking the ocean and tumbling into the sea.
“Welcome to Fenway,” he said with a warm smile.
Mr. Feit had risen from the grave.
TEN
“We saw you die,” I said, though I’m not sure how I was able to speak, let alone think.
“That’s not exactly true,” Feit said, wagging his finger. “I was shot by a SYLO sniper and you saw me fall into the ocean. Very, very big difference.”
“No,” Tori said, shaking her head as if she could make Feit disappear by force of will and logic. “If the bullet didn’t kill you, the fall should have. You dropped a couple of hundred feet, bouncing off rocks all the way down and—”
“Yeah, I was there,” Feit said, wincing. “Don’t need to relive the details.”
“You were dead,” I stated flatly.
“Obviously not,” he said with a wink. “Unless you believe in ghosts.”
I didn’t, but at that moment I could have been convinced.
Feit looked no worse for wear. He still acted like a casual, older surfer dude, but he had cleaned up his act. The shaggy hair and beard stubble were gone. His blond hair was now cut short and neat. The earring was gone too. Instead of a hoodie and board shorts, he wore the same gray camouflage fatigues as the soldiers who herded the people from the Hall into Fenway.
Feit was not only alive… he was a soldier.
“How?” was all I could say.
Feit flopped down into a stadium seat and put his feet up. He had a paper cup with a straw that he sucked on, looking ready for the start of a game.
“After I fell, did you see a speedboat taking off?” he asked between sips.
“Yes!” Tori said. “People were running ahead of us on the trail down to the water. They got to the hidden boats before we did.”
“They pulled me out of the water,” Feit said. “I was in sorry shape, I’ll give you that. But I was still breathing. Those dudes saved me.”
“No way,” I exclaimed. “That was only a couple of weeks ago. Nobody heals that fast.”
“Really? How’s your gunshot wound, Tori?”
Tori’s hand immediately went to the spot where the bullet had passed through her shoulder… her completely healed shoulder.
“That medicine they gave me at Faneuil Hall,” Tori said, thinking back. “What was that stuff?”
“Pretty cool, right?” Feit asked with a sly smile as he sipped his drink. “I was back on my feet and ready to go in a couple of days.”
“That’s impossible,” I said with a gasp. “No medicine can do that.”
“Yet here I am,” Feit said holding out his arms. “Alive and kicking.”
“Who are you?” Tori asked, numb. “Where did you come from?”
She made a move as if to grab him and throttle the truth out, but I held her back.
It was a good thing I did.
Two soldiers in fatigues and black berets stepped out from the shadows of the tunnel. They had been hanging back, watching, ready for trouble.
“Easy now,” Feit said with a laugh. “You guys are old friends. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt. Or get dead.”
Tori backed down, but she twisted the gym bag so it hung in front of her. The zipper was open.
“I’m actually stoked to see you two,” he said. “Sounds like you had a gnarly trip to the mainland.”
“How do you know that?” Tori demanded.
“It was Chris Campbell,” I said. “They’re not helping survivors at the Hall, they’re prepping them to work here on… what is that thing?”
I pointed to the massive construction project taking shape on the field.
Feit stood and walked to the railing, where he surveyed the half-finished steel dome.