But on the other hand… on the other hand, if what this Waterman guy was saying was true, if there really were people who wanted to attack this country, to terrorize people, to bring down all the things that had made us, really, the freest nation that had ever existed in all the long history of the world… then how could I just stand by and let it happen? How could I say no?
I turned back to Waterman…
And in a snapping flash of light, the scene was gone. I was gone. There was nothing but a sort of woozy, searing darkness and then…
I opened my eyes. I was on the floor of the Panic Room, my cheek against the cold tiles. For a moment I couldn’t think of anything, couldn’t remember where I was or what was happening.
And then I did remember. I remembered the limousine. The forest passing outside the window. Waterman.
We want to frame you for murder.
I sat up quickly. I winced as a dagger of pain went through my head, and a wave of nausea washed through my stomach. But I gritted my teeth and fought the pain and sickness down. What did it matter? A little pain was nothing. A little nausea-nothing. I remembered! I remembered what had happened. I remembered how I had become part of the Homelanders.
I was working for Waterman, for America. I was infiltrating the terrorist organization in an effort to bring them down.
My hands curled into tight fists. My vision blurred with emotion. I remembered! What I’d done, who I was. All the people who believed in me-my parents, Beth, my friends, Sensei Mike-all the people who hadn’t thought I was a murderer after all, who had trusted I wasn’t one of the bad guys even when I’d doubted it myself. They’d all been right. I’d never hurt Alex, I’d never been a terrorist, I’d only broken out of prison as part of the plan…
For a second, all I could do was sit there, staring through the blur of emotions, joyful and grateful to God that my life was finally coming back to me.
And then-then my mind cleared. My vision cleared. I looked around and saw where I was. I remembered what was happening.
I was in the Panic Room. Stuck here behind a door I didn’t know how to open. Stuck here while the seconds ticked away and the Homelanders prepared to blow the place to smithereens.
CHAPTER TEN
The Sign Fighting off my headache and my stomachache and the weakness in my muscles, I grabbed hold of the side of the chest and pulled myself to my feet. How long had I been out? I looked at my watch. I’d only been unconscious about twenty minutes this time. It wasn’t much, but it was long enough for the Homelanders to have set a bomb and run for it. The explosion could go off any minute, any second, for all I knew. How much time did I have left?
I stared at the wall in front of me-the wall that held the invisible door-that blank, blank wall. The Panic Room struck me as a good name for this place just then because I could feel myself starting to panic.
But then, as my mind continued clearing, something came back to me. What was it? Just before that last seizure- the last “memory attack,” you might call it-I’d had an idea, hadn’t I? An idea had started to take shape in my mind about how I might be able to get out of here-maybe even get out before the killer-Waylon- and the rest of the Homelanders blew the place up.
What was it? What had I been thinking?
I looked around, trying to recapture the half-formed thought. My gaze fell on the chest, the empty chest. Something… Something had been there…
And then I saw the tray. The tray that had had the sandwich on it. I’d taken it off the chest when I’d opened it. I’d set it on the floor… There was something about the tray, something on the tray…
It all came back to me.
A flash of pain went through my forehead as I reached down and picked up the 3 x 5 index card Waterman had left for me with the food and water. I had to shut my eyes a moment until the headache passed. But a moment later, I forced my eyes open. I reread the message written on the card:
Eat. Drink. Build up your strength. You’re going to need it.
And then, at the bottom, that symbol instead of a signature: that simple stick-figure house, a square with an X inside and a triangle for the roof.
Why would Waterman sign the note that way? That was the thought that had come to me just before the memory attack knocked me down. What did the symbol mean? The answer had been coming to me when the seizure hit and drove me to the floor and back into the past.
It occurred to me that he must’ve been trying to tell me something. Why else sign with a symbol instead of his name? And what else could he have been trying to tell me except how to get out of here?
I remembered how I’d watched him passing his hand over the secret doors. I remembered the pattern had been all straight lines and diagonals. Just like the little house- the straight lines of the walls, the diagonals of the roof and the X inside. Waterman must’ve been passing me the code just in case-just in case the Homelanders arrived- just in case he had to escape and couldn’t help me.
That’s why he didn’t explain it. Why he didn’t write it out. He was afraid they might be watching, maybe even afraid they had someone inside his organization. I didn’t know. But since that little house symbol was the only hope I had-the only idea I had-I figured I better try to do something with it-now, before Waylon’s bomb went off.
I moved to the wall again. I was about to put my hand against it, when I hesitated. I pressed my ear against the wall instead. I didn’t want to get out of here only to walk directly into the guns of the Homelanders. I listened. There were no voices out there now, no one talking. The place was empty-or it sounded as if it was empty anyway.
I backed off. I put my palm on the wall, the way I’d seen Waterman do it. I traced the shape of the house. The square base. The X inside. The triangle of the roof.
Nothing. No motor noise. No sliding door.
I licked my dry lips. My heart was sinking. I could almost feel the seconds ticking away. I tried again. Again, nothing. Maybe the door had some kind of secret sensor that read Waterman’s fingerprints or his DNA or something.
But then why leave me the symbol?
I thought back to when I’d seen Waterman make the sign over the door. I could see there was a pattern. It was always the same pattern-the lines and diagonals. But there was something else as well. He had always done it in one smooth, flowing motion, never breaking off, never moving his hand and never retracing any of the motions he’d already made.
There must be a way to draw the little house with the X inside in one motion without lifting my hand from the wall.
I tried it. No, I had to go over one line twice. I tried it again. Then again. I couldn’t make it happen. Every time, I had to retrace one of the lines. And every time I was done, there was no motor. No door.
I stared at the pattern on the card. There had to be a way. Waterman did it. I could do it. He wouldn’t have given me the symbol if it didn’t work. I had to believe that or there was no hope.
I tried again. I traced a diagonal across the wall. Another one. Another. Wait, this time it was working. A straight line, drawing the house. Then-yes!-only one more line. I did it. I finished the whole thing without retracing my steps.
And immediately, there it was. The grinding engine in the wall. The panel slid back in front of me.
The door to the Panic Room was open. I was free.
I stepped out into the main part of the bunker-and the first thing I saw was the bomb.