Wong sighed, glancing at his watch again. “A little over three minutes to go.”
Rachel shifted her gaze to the ancient defibrillator, then looked at Wong. His face was impassive. Bored. She wondered how many times he’d done this.
Then again, maybe she didn’t want to know.
“It’s okay,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “My grandfather taught me well. Still gives me pointers sometimes.”
“Your grandfather’s alive?”
Wong shook his head and grinned. “No. But we keep in touch.”
When the light faded, he was standing in an alley between two high-rise apartment buildings. The sky was dark and restless, but the moon was full, giving him plenty of illumination. The smell of rotting garbage filled the air. A row of overflowing trash cans lined a nearby cement wall.
The only sound was a distant wind.
And, of course, Jessie crying.
His beacon.
He headed toward her, moving through the shadows to the mouth of the alley. The hairs bristled on the back of his neck. Was someone behind him?
Looking over his shoulder, he thought he saw movement in the darkness beyond the garbage cans. He picked up his pace and hurried out of the alley onto a familiar city street.
It was empty. Devoid of life.
Not exactly a surprise.
But up ahead, along the curb, ringed by pools of streetlight and spilling onto the sidewalk, was a row of mangled cars. Just off to the left, the news van, Gunderson’s getaway car, lay on its side, steam rising from beneath its hood.
This is it, Donovan thought. Where it all started. The wreck that put Sara in a coma and changed all of their lives.
Jessie’s sobs echoed from inside the van.
Donovan started toward it, then hesitated. What exactly did he expect to find there? He had to think about it a moment, and when he did, it came to him.
A conclusion. That’s all he was hoping for. An end to this saga, one way or the other.
He started forward again, crossing the blacktop toward the van, the sound of Jessie’s sobs growing louder as he approached. Glancing at its oil-caked underbelly, he noticed gas leaking from the ruptured tank, the smell of it stinging his nostrils. He quickly hoisted himself onto the bumper and climbed up to the side of the van, where the sliding door hung open in invitation.
It was dark inside, but he could hear Jessie clearly, only inches away. The moment he realized he needed a flashlight, it once again appeared in his hand. He flicked it on, pointing the beam into the well of the van.
A small, naked figure sat huddled on the floor against the back of the driver’s seat, head buried in her hands, crying.
Sweet holy Jesus. He hadn’t expected this.
“Jessie?”
The girl flinched at the sound of his voice, then slowly raised her head. But as she did, her body began to grow and change shape, morphing like the villain in some low-budget sci-fi flick — into Alexander Gunderson.
He smiled and held up a pocket digital recorder, Jessie’s sobs emanating from its speaker. It was the same player Donovan had found in the tunnels.
“Fool me once,” Gunderson said, flicking it off. “You’re awfully easy to manipulate, Jack.”
“And you’re getting predictable,” Donovan said.
“Nice of you to play along.” Gunderson gestured to their surroundings. “Not exactly what you bargained for, is it? All those promises of eternal rest and what do we get? Our own little piece of fucked-up reality.”
Donovan climbed into the well of the van, facing Gunderson directly. “Where is she, Alex?”
“Ahh. Straight to the million-dollar question.”
“Enough is enough. It’s over. Just tell me where she is.”
“Over?” Gunderson said. “You think I went to all that trouble with Bobby and poor Luther just to get you here for some pointless little confab? That took a helluva lot of concentration, my friend. And that kind of work deserves a worthwhile payoff.”
“Meaning what?” Donovan said. “Invasion of the Body Snatchers?”
“That’s the gist of it, hotshot. When that two-bit witch doctor gives you the touch of life, he and your little girlfriend are in for a nice surprise. Imagine what a guy with a mind like mine could do with a highly respected, federally employed body like yours.” Gunderson thought about that a moment, then laughed. “What am I saying? You don’t have to imagine it. You make a helluva copilot, Jack, but this time I’m flying solo.”
“Where is she, Alex?”
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. Why don’t you hang around awhile? Those air tanks won’t last forever.”
Donovan felt the urge to lunge, but before he could move, Gunderson dissolved into vapor.
The smell of gas once again filled his nostrils, and with a whooshing sound, the seat in front of him burst into flames. More flames shot up on either side, threatening to box him in.
Surprised, he spun around — only to be jolted by the realization that he was no longer inside the van. It had vanished, along with the fire, the streets, and the city surrounding it.
Instead, he found himself standing on a rocky precipice, a hot wind whipping past him like a blast of furnace heat. At his feet was a deep chasm in the earth. An endless, dark abyss.
And it could only be described as the gate to hell.
52
Welcome to the lost and found, Jack.”
Donovan turned. Gunderson stood several yards behind him, leaning against an outcropping of rocks. Beyond him was the same stark landscape Donovan had seen on his first visit here.
Gunderson’s dark eyes shone in the moonlight.
“I know how you’re feeling,” he said. “It takes a while to figure this place out. The first question you ask yourself is, how much of it’s real? The answer is everything… and nothing. Once you wrap your brain around that kernel of absurdity, you’re gold.”
He pushed away from the outcropping and started toward Donovan.
“I know it’s a cliche,” he continued, “but people are sheep. They get into that tunnel and hear Grandma and Uncle Bob calling them and forget all about their shitty little lives. They head straight for the light like a teenager homing in on his girlfriend’s tits.”
He brought out a cigarette, lit it, then took a drag and blew smoke. “Then there’s the resisters. The folks who, for whatever reason, aren’t quite ready to let go. Accidents, suicides having second thoughts, nature’s mistakes, or just stubborn bastards like you and me. We’re cosmic anomalies, Jack. We turn away from the light and wind up here, hoping for a way back home. It’s the lost and found. Emphasis on lost.”
Donovan just looked at him. “You’re not impressing me, Alex. Where is she?”
Gunderson snorted. “You need to widen your focus, Barney. Pay more attention to the world around you. If you’d done that back home, you could’ve found her anytime you wanted.”
“Meaning?”
Gunderson came to a stop a few feet away. Taking another deep drag off the cigarette, he flicked it past Donovan’s ear into the abyss. There was a brief spark of light and something crackled below.
“Helluva view, isn’t it? No pun intended. Sara used to enjoy a good view. Give her a lakefront window and you’d lose her for half the day.”
“No more bullshit, Alex. Just tell me.”
