The Last Hunter - Descent - Jeremy Robinson [25]
I’m breathing heavily. And I don’t have an answer.
“Where’s your coat?” he asks next. But then he’s looking beyond me, at the hole I dug. He takes a step back and I see the rest of our crew gathered around in a semi-circle, looking at the boy with no coat and bloody fingers. But my father’s not looking at me. I trace his line of vision back to my freshly dug hole and see a gray aberration just beneath the surface.
He kneels down and wipes the snow away. The metal surface is ribbed and slightly curved. He looks at me. “Is this?”
I nod. “Where I was born.”
I hear Collette asking “How did he know?” over and over.
“Sol, you shouldn’t—”
Something about the tone of his voice coupled with a surge of embarrassment sets me off. “Shouldn’t what!” I stand and face him, unleashing years of frustration over my hidden past. “You’re the one who hid this from me! You’re the one keeping secrets!”
To my surprise, and my father’s, I shove him. Hard.
He stumbles back. “Sol...”
I step toward him, bloody fists clenched. Collette is shouting something, her voice warbling like an injured turkey’s. I hear my mother’s voice, but not her words. “I opened your safe. I found the rock. Why didn’t you tell me what would happen.”
“What happened?” my father asks.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I shout again. The people standing around me become blurs. I can’t see anyone through my tears. My energy drains suddenly and I fall to my knees. The world turns black.
As I fall, my father catches me and picks me up like I’m five years old again. I can feel him carry me back toward his Sno-Cat. I’m asleep before we get there and have no memory of the rest of the trip to Clark Station Two.
10
I wake up confused, not because I don’t remember where I am—I know exactly where I am—but because the noise of the place is unfamiliar. I feel like I’m in a subway station and somewhere in the dark, there’s a train barreling toward me. Shaking metal. Screeching. A deep resonating rumble that chatters the teeth.
But there is no train. I’m in a bed. There’s a wool blanket pulled up to my chin, but it’s not itchy. The room is small and formed from four metal walls and a metal ceiling. I’ve seen bread boxes with more style. There are no windows. A desk with a lamp on top is next to the bed. The lamp is the room’s only source of light, glowing a dull yellow.
A rumble rolls across the ceiling, like a wave of energy has coursed through it. Fear twists my gut. Is this my fault? Has the ice broken? I jump out of bed, steadying myself on the desk. Stumbling toward the door, I notice I’m fully dressed. I’m not wearing a coat, but I’ve got on insulated pants, full body long johns, a turtleneck and a sweater. I twist the door handle and give it a pull. The door opens and I hear a gentle ring somewhere, but don’t bother trying to figure it out. I need to find out what’s...happening.
I stop in the hallway and listen. I hear nothing. No storm. No shrieking metal. No subway car. The world has gone silent.
The hallway is long and lined with doors on either side like a college dorm. I’m sure my parents are behind one of these doors, but don’t want to risk walking in on a half-dressed Collette or someone else I have yet to meet. I find my feet and walk down the hall, careful not to make any noise.
The hall opens up to a large room that is one part kitchen, one part lounge. Lights triggered by motion sensors illuminate the room. There’s a counter-top, sink and fridge to my left; a TV and two couches to my right. A laptop sits closed on a desk. There’s a door directly across from the hallway. I head toward it, not knowing what’s on the other side.
The door is heavy and thick, but swings open with little effort. The short hallway beyond is lined with jackets and snow gear hanging from hooks. Each set of clothing is labeled with a name. I see mine down near the end.
I pause in front of my jacket, knowing it’s not necessary, but consider wearing it anyway. No, I think, it will just get in the way.
Get in the way of what?
The door leading outside