She pushed the button next to Transfer 2 to go to the next station. The door opened, revealing a car identical to the last one. On the ride, she built up her righteous anger, again ready to fight anyone when the doors opened. However, the new transfer station was the same empty box as before.
“This is going to get old real quick…”
She’d entered a loop. Each time she got in the elevator, it took about ten minutes to reach the bottom of the segment. She exited, saw the same thing, and wondered if the sensation of motion was designed to throw her off. If the feeling persisted, she was going to drop crumbs on the floor, like the nursery rhyme.
“No, I’m moving,” she whispered, looking at the map on the wall of the new station. A little ‘You Are Here’ star showed her in the next lowest landing from the one she’d left. Eventually, after entering the car for Transfer 6, she knew the final stop was coming. When those doors opened, she was absolutely convinced the fight she’d been seeking was about to take place.
The elevator car rattled and came to a stop. After a pause, the doors slid open with a squeal. She was hit in the face with warm, humid air, which smelled a little like the woods after a rain. Compared to the sterile environment of the ride down, it seemed as if she’d gone back outside.
The lights were already on. A rounded rock-carved tunnel went left and right. Going right would take her by the second elevator, so she chose to go that way.
Tabby followed the curvature for a few yards before a long set of windows appeared on the left. No one was around, so she took a peek, interested at what could be inside a window ten miles underground.
“Ah ha,” she said, recognizing the deep circular pit containing the superweapon.
A voice caught her by surprise. “David, is that you?”
An older man came around the corner, eating from a soup can. When he saw her, he froze. “Who are you? No one is supposed to be down here.”
“David sent me,” she fibbed.
“Why?” he asked, eying her attire.
“Um, because I’m doing a safety inspection tour for him.” She winced at how lame it sounded, but she went with what she knew. Every so often, the city of Bonne Terre would send down an inspector to check out her parents’ mine. They claimed it was to check on safety issues and ensure the tourists weren’t exposed to dangerous materials, but Dad always claimed it was the city’s way of shaking them down for a few bucks.
“Why are you dressed like a homesteader?” The man was in his fifties or sixties, she guessed, though he had perfectly black hair in a professional cut. His face looked extremely familiar to her, though she couldn’t place him. He was tall and stood up straight, despite his age. While he’d been surprised, at first, he’d quickly recovered. He spooned out more of his canned food after asking his question.
“Inspecting is what I did before I joined David’s troupe.” She hesitated, not sure if troupe was insulting or not. She had to remember to be impressed by David and his outfit, not disgusted by it. “I worked for a small town in Missouri.”
“The Show-Me State, huh? Are you going to show me your credentials? I don’t see where you could put them in an outfit like yours.”
She blushed. The guy wasn’t creeping on her, but she would never get used to being dressed as she was.
He kept speaking. “I didn’t mean anything bad. I’ll show you around if you want. No ID required. It gets lonely down here. I’m President Kirby Tanager, by the way, though I’m certain you knew that.”
Tabby gulped, suddenly recognizing him from the news. Despite encountering him at the bottom of a ten-mile deep destructive weapon, she went into fangirl mode at meeting someone who was legit famous.
“Oh, sure. I knew it. I’m Tabitha Breeze. Pleased to meet you.”
CHAPTER 20
Eastern Colorado
Ted stood there in disbelief at what they’d done. Wind buffeted against his face and chest, but he barely noticed it. The choice to attack was the right one at the time, but something in the dying man’s plea about being lost hit him in the gut. Looking at them closer, they weren’t much older than kids.
Emily reloaded her rifle while standing at the open liftgate. “We should move them, don’t you think?”
He reoriented on her, glad to look away from the corpses. “Yeah, but let’s hurry. If they have tracking on their bikes, like Kyla suggested, it won’t be long before they figure out the group isn’t moving. They’ll likely send someone to check it out. When they find them…”
She caught on. “They’ll suspect it was the same famous couple from Fort Collins.”
He touched his nose. “You got it.”
It took them less than ten minutes to move the bodies and bikes behind the nearest house. It was ugly business, especially the bodies, though the blood-covered bikes weren’t any fun, either.
Once in the SUV and on the road, he looked back at the lonely town, drawing in a breath of the fresh, hay-scented air. “We got lucky back there. My gun jammed at the worst time.”
“Ain’t that always the case? It’s why Special Agent Melvin Jones, my instructor, always recommended I carry a revolver. Less chance for errors.”
He nodded appreciatively. “Yeah, well, your revolver is in the back, actually. I don’t carry it because it only has six rounds. The pistols we took from the gun collector hold fifteen. I wanted quantity, you know?”
She patted the same model pistol she kept holstered at her side. “I like the numbers, too, but after what I saw, I might trade
