Janos didn’t answer.
“Do your job,” Sauls demanded. “Understand? We clear on the mine now? Once the system’s in place and we can clean out all the local trash, this place’ll be locked down tighter than a flea’s dickhole. But in terms of calling in security, y’know what? I already did — and you’re it. Now fix the problem and stop with the damn lecturing. You found their car; you found their tags — it’s just a matter of waiting at the mine.”
Hearing the click in his ear, Janos turned back to the elevator shaft. He was tempted to call the cage and go down into the tunnels himself, but he also knew that if he did, and Harris and Viv got off on a different level, he’d just as easily miss them. For now, Sauls had it right. What goes down must come up. All he had to do was wait.
52
The rusted steel safety gate lets out a high-pitched howl as I tug it from the ceiling of the cage and send it pounding to the floor. The metal rollers spin as it crashes into place. We’re on the 4,850 level of the mine, finally settling into the cage that’ll take us the rest of the way to the top. Like before, I ignore the leaky water that drips from above and go straight for the intercom.
“Stop cage,” I announce as I press the goo-covered button. “We’re all clear — going to one-three.”
“One-three,” the operator repeats. The same level we started at.
“Hoist cage,” I say.
“Hoist cage,” she repeats.
There’s a sharp tug from above. The steel cable goes taut, the cage rockets upward, and as we fly toward the surface, my testicles sink down to my ankles.
Across from me, Viv’s eyes and jaw are clamped shut. Not in fear — in pure obstinacy. She lost it once; she’s not letting it happen again. The cage is banging back and forth against the wood shaft, raining even more water against the top of our helmets. Fighting to keep her balance, she leans back against the greasy walls, but the ride feels like we’re surfing the top of a moving elevator. Aside from a quick glance at the oxygen detector — “20.4,” she says — she stays completely silent.
I’m still breathing heavy, but some things can’t wait. Wasting no time, I open the Midas Project notebook.
“Wanna shine that candle over here?” I ask, hoping to take her mind off the ride.
Between the two of us, she’s still got the only light — but right now, it’s staying aimed down at the metal floor. For Viv, until we’re actually out of here, this box isn’t just a moving leaky coffin. It’s a mountain. A mountain to be conquered.
The only good news is, as we rocket up toward the surface, we don’t have far to go. The oxygen numbers continue to rise: 20.5… 20.7... Fresh air and freedom are only a minute away.
53
The instant the steel cable started moving, Janos pounced for the nearby phone on the wall.
“Hoist…” the female operator answered.
“This cage that’s coming up right now — can you make sure its next stop is at the Ramp?” Janos asked, reading the location from the sign.
“Sure, but why do you-?”
“Listen, we got an emergency up here — just bring the cage as fast as you can.”
“Everyone alright?”
“Did you hear what I-?”
“I got it… the Ramp.”
Buttoning his jacket, Janos watched as the water rained down and a cold wind blew from the mouth of the open hole. Shoving his hands in the side pocket of his jean jacket, he felt for the black box and flicked the switch. Thanks to the rumble of the approaching cage, he couldn’t even hear the electrical hum.
Over his shoulder, the wood benches started to rattle. Farther up the tunnel, the fluorescent lights began to flicker. The bullet train was on its way, and from the deafening roar, it wouldn’t be long.
With a final wheeze, the metal vault popped up from the abyss.
Janos dove at the latch on the corroded yellow door. Don’t give them a chance to catch their breath. Grab them and keep them boxed in.
Yanking on the lock, he whipped the door open. A slap of shaft water flicked him in the face. As the door crashed into the wall, Janos’s jaw shifted to the right. He clenched his teeth even tighter.
“Sons of bitches…”
Inside the cage, drips of water rained down from the ceiling and slithered down the greasy metal walls. Other than that, the cage was empty.
54
“Hurry… run…!” I yell at Viv as I shove open the door to the cage and sprint through the wide room that stretches out in front of us. According to the sign on the wall, we’re at level 1–3 — the same level we came in on. The only difference is, we used a different shaft to get out. Wasn’t hard to find — all we had to do was follow the spray-painted Lift signs. Eight thousand feet later, we’re back on top.
“I still don’t see why we had to take the other shaft,” Viv says, trailing behind me as I dart forward.
“You’ve met Janos once — you really want to go on a second date?”
“But to say he’s waiting for us…”
“Look at your watch, Viv. It’s almost noon — that’s plenty of time to catch up to us. And if he’s already within spitting distance, the last thing we need to do is make it easy.”
Like the tunnels down below, the room up here has metal rail tracks running all along the floor. There are at least half a dozen empty man-cars, two mud-soaked Bobcat diggers, a small swarm of three-wheel ATVs, and even a few red toilet wagons. The whole place stinks of gasoline. This is clearly the vehicle entrance, but right now, all I care about is the exit.
Sidestepping between two man-cars, I continue running toward the enormous sliding garage door on the far wall — but as I get there, I spot the chain and the padlock that’s holding it shut. “Locked!” I call back to Viv.
Searching around, I still don’t see a way out. Not even a window.
“There!” Viv yells, pointing to her right, just past all the red wagons.
As I follow behind her, she runs toward a narrow wooden door that looks like a closet. “You sure that’s it?” I call out.
She doesn’t bother to answer.
Moving in closer, I finally see what’s got her so excited — not just the small door, but the sliver of bright light that’s peeking through underneath. After all that time underground, I know daylight when I see it.
I’m two steps behind Viv as she throws the door open. It’s like coming out of a dark movie theater and stepping straight into the sun. The blast of sunlight burns my eyes in the best way possible. The whole world lights up with fall colors — orange and red leaves… the baby blue sky — that seem neon when compared with the mud below. Even the air — forget that recycled stuff downstairs; as I head up the dirt road in front of us, the sweet smell of plum bushes fills my nose.
“And on the tenth day, God created candy,” Viv sings, sniffing the air for herself. She stares around to take it all in, but I grab her by the wrist.
“Don’t stop now,” I say, tugging her up the dirt road. “Not until we’re out of here.”
Two hundred yards to our left, above the trees, the triangular outline of the main Homestead building slices toward the sky. It takes me a second to get my bearings, but from what I can tell, we’re on the opposite side of the parking lot from where we first started.
A loud siren bursts through the air. I follow it to a bullhorn up on the metal teepee building. There goes the alarm.
“Don’t run,” Viv says, slowing us down even more.