Gravity

  There were boxes of labeled DVDs beneath the desk. We each pulled out a box and started thumbing through them. Every DVD was dated.

  "What was the date of the fire?" I asked.

  "November sixth. It's not here," he said, not sounding entirely surprised. "Son of a..."

  "Are you sure?" I asked.

  "I'm completely sure. Thursday the fifth is here, Monday the ninth is here. No Friday." He slid the box back in place.

  "What do we do next?"

  "Follow me," Henry said resolutely. He pushed the door of the security office open and peeked into the hall. I stood behind him, peering over his shoulder. When he saw that the coast was clear, he snatched my hand and led me to McPherson's office door.

  "Oh, we're going for the big leagues, huh?"

  "Go big or go home," Henry said with a wan grin. He pushed the door open.

  It was creepy being in McPherson's cove without him there. It wouldn't have surprised me if the Principal had booby-trapped the place. But no net descended.

  It was very dark, the shades on the window drawn. Henry wasted no time in going to the desk and pulling open drawers, not bothering to keep quiet. I kept lookout at the door, still able to slightly hear Theo's caterwauling.

  "What have we here?" Henry asked. I looked towards him, and saw he was holding pieces of a broken disc. It was the November sixth security DVD. "It was in the top drawer," Henry said. "Now what does that tell you?"

  He slid it in his pocket, and we hurriedly went out of McPherson's office.

  "So McPherson had something to do with it," I said as we speed-walked our way towards the exit. "But how do we find out what happened if he broke the evidence?"

  "Our only alternative is to go down in the basement." There was a desperation haunting his features that I couldn't argue with. "We have to see what he's hiding."

  "Why are you so sure there's something down there?" I asked, but I knew he was right. The voices I had heard at the door, the charred black marks like a sunburst from underneath. All obscure evidence that the basement harbored a secret. Not to mention McPherson's creepy shed, and the fact that he was conveniently missing.

  "It's something so important he felt the need to stop the electricians or anyone else from going down there," Henry reasoned. "They were supposed to come on the following Monday, Wick told me. If you don't want to go, I'm not going to make you—"

  "Oh, I'm going," I said firmly.

  We slipped out of the office and into the hall, where Theo and Alex were still holding everyone's attention. It looked like they were running out of ideas. We skidded back around the corner, keeping fast to the wall, and then came back, walking as casually as we could.

  "Oh my gosh, Theo! Are you okay?" I asked, rushing to her side. I hoped my acting skills were passable, as I hadn't needed to use them since the school play in seventh grade.

  "I think I'm all right, I just got knocked down by this dummy and I thought I broke something," Theo said groggily. I caught Alex wrinkling his nose at her. I helped Theo up to her feet, where she immediately straightened.

  "Yep, I think it passed," Theo said, striding away with her shoulders back.

  Alex shrugged to the others left wondering what had happened, and trailed behind us. I especially hated tricking Nurse Callie since she had been so nice, but I felt like it couldn't be helped.

  "Did you find anything?" Alex asked when we were out of earshot. Henry filled them in on the broken DVD.

  "So now you're going into the basement?" Theo asked, looking concerned. Alex was trying to smooth her messy hair and she didn't attempt to push him away.

  "We'll be careful," I assured her. I was just as determined as Henry to find out what McPherson was hiding down there. And what it had to do with Alyssa and Susan. And Jenna.

  As soon as I thought about the girls, the lights began to seizure, zapping on and off rapidly. It was much more violent than before, and I was glad none of us were epileptic.

  "What's happening?" Alex asked, he and Theo staring at the ceiling with their mouths hanging open. When the lights finally stayed on, I gazed at Henry pointedly.

  "Time to go," I said.

  The two of them headed back to class as the bell rang. Henry and I joined the crowd heading to their classrooms. When we reached the blocked off area, Henry and I waited until the hall cleared out. Making sure no one was around; we slipped through the traffic cones and into basement access.

  CHAPTER 27

  THE ACRID SMELL of fire damage still clung heavily to the space beyond the door. We entered onto a small platform, with a burnt black circle in the center. Navigating around the burn mark, we began to go down the metal stairway.

  The metallic tinks of our footsteps echoed as we descended farther into Hawthorne's belly. The area at the bottom of the stairs had existed for a long time, part of the old foundation. Where the top levels were pristine and beautiful, the rooms below ground were filthy and poorly lit, grime staining the drab gray walls.

  "What are we looking for?" I asked Henry, resting my head on his shoulder without realizing I was doing it.

  "Whatever it is that snake is hiding down here," Henry said. He pulled out his phone and lit the back light, casting a synthetic glow that illuminated the ugliness of our surroundings more. Barrels of some unknown substance were lined up together, covered in dust. Henry cracked the top of one barrel. Except for a nasty smell, it was empty.

  Bags of garbage were piled by a flaming incinerator. It growled and hummed as flames crackled behind the grate. The nauseating, greasy smell of burning garbage was overpowering.

  "This is disgusting," Henry groaned. As if to prove his point further, a trio of rats scurried along the wall. I jumped, while he remained in place.

  "You think ghosts and creepy crawlies are lame. Does anything scare you?" I asked, checking the pulse in my neck.

  "Of course," he said. "Just not the normal stuff. I guess I've immunized myself a little over the years. You seem to have, too," he added pointedly. "Not every girl would go charging after some bad guy in a dark basement."

  "I'm not every girl," I muttered.

  "I know." A smile played briefly on his lips, then disappeared as we kept on.

  It was like a maze beneath Hawthorne, but we found our way. Leaking pipes ran along the ceiling, dripping murky water. Old gym equipment, broken dumbbells, and a ripped volleyball net were in one corner. I vaguely wondered how much of our classes we were ditching; if anyone would comment on us missing. If they would notice if we never came back.

  We reached an open doorway marked 'electrical.' Henry slipped in first and I followed behind him. Numerous black electrical boxes hummed gently, black wires snaking up the walls like vines.

  "I can't tell if this is normal or not," Henry said. "This looks like some Frankenstein rigging."

  "I don't think it's safe for us to be in here," I said, as I watched one box let off a flash of sparks.

  Back outside, he regarded me, clasping his hand in mine. "Should we go back?"

  "Not yet."

  We agreed to continue farther on into the foundation. It got dirtier and darker with every step. Noises up ahead made us pause. It sounded like someone struggling to drag a cumbersome object across the floor. Exchanging a look with me, he shut his phone and we made our way to a closed door, behind which the noise was coming from.

  Henry jiggled the handle. "Locked."

  "What do we do— "

  I was cut off as Henry pulled out his wallet, retrieved his Visa and slid it into the slit between the door and the frame. The lock popped easily.

  "How do you know how to do that?" I wondered aloud.

  "I told you, everyone has secrets," Henry said.

  Inside the room were rows of old supplies. They had probably been there for decades, judging by the worn letters printed on the containers. It looked mostly like pool equipment—buckets of old chlorine, hoses, broken floaters.

  Walking behin
d a utility shelf, we peered through the gap and saw the source of the noise. A man was standing alone beside a large bucket, the strong smell of undiluted bleach wafting out. Two filthy sleeping bags were rolled up next to him. To my horror, I noticed human hair spilling out of them, and I had to jam my fist into my mouth to stop from screaming.

  The man turned and we caught a glimpse of his face. It was Mr. Warwick.

  Warwick began scrubbing the cement floor furiously, his mouth pulled back in a nervous grimace. His shirt was undone, poochy stomach hanging out, a ruffle of gray chest hair exposed. The high ceiling of the chamber amplified the slightest sound, his throaty breathing echoing.

  "Dirty girls, dirty work," he babbled. "Dirty, dirty..."

  "We need to get out of here," I whispered.

  Henry's fingers were busy, fumbling over his keypad. "I'm telling Alex to call the police," he whispered back. He almost dropped the phone and clutched it tighter.

  "Who's there?" Warwick called out. Henry and I froze, peering back through the gap.

  Warwick stood up, his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows. A gritty sponge dripped dirty water from his hand.

  "I know someone is there. I heard you. Watching me." His voice wavered. "Come out, come out and play."

  "What do we do?" I whispered frantically. For once, Henry looked scared. The color washed out of his face, leaving his normally tanned skin looking sick. His fear worried me most of all.

  Warwick started advancing to where we were, hiding behind the flimsy shelving.

  "Just let me think for a second," Henry whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.

  "We don't have a second!" I hissed through gritted teeth. I looked around the area we were semi-concealed in. A stack of rolled up tarps in a tall wire bin sat diagonally to us.

  It was only a matter of moments before Warwick reached us. Chlorine stung my nose as I breathed rapidly. It was either behind the tarps or nothing, as I couldn't see anywhere else the two of us could even attempt to hide.

  "Over there," I mouthed, and ran and dove behind the bin. Henry followed, and we shimmied into the narrow space, sitting up against the wall.

  "I'm going to find you," Warwick called out. "I know you saw me. And the girls. Sorry to say that means I'm going to have to shut you up. For the greater good."

  Through the tarps, we watched as he reached into his pants pocket and retrieved a small gun, which glimmered in the faint, grimy light. My stomach dropped and I swallowed hard. It looked like a toy, but I wasn't that naive.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my chin down towards my hammering heart. I would never have imagined Warwick being anything but kind. He was the person who performed magic tricks with decks of cards and pulled quarters out of my ear. I remembered the creepy way he'd looked at me during his attempted heart-to-heart, my urge to get away.

  Warwick passed the stack of tarps that protected us. He kept talking conversationally, as if he were lecturing us on Abraham Lincoln instead of being caught trying to hide a couple of rotting corpses.

  "The girls won't tell anyone. They're dead. Funny thing about being dead. It makes it so you can't tattle." He continued to stalk the area, peeking into shelves and around items, and out the door.

  "I think he's in the other room," I whispered after a few seconds, my voice shaking so much I could barely articulate the words.

  "Alex should have called the cops by now," Henry said.

  "If he checked his phone. Maybe he didn't get a chance in class."

  "He always checks his phone," Henry argued. "Otherwise, how do we get out of here?"

  "I don't know," I said, my mind racing with possibilities, all tumbling over one another so I couldn't separate them into a coherent plan.

  "We should just wait," Henry said.

  "No. If we wait, we die. I'll go look and see if there's a way out," I said firmly. I started to slide back out against the wall.

  "Are you nuts?" he asked, pulling the sleeve of my shirt, so hard that it ripped. His eyes were wild, pupils enlarged. "He'll kill you, Ariel!"

  "Doing something is a better option than us staying here and waiting like sitting ducks to be killed." I yanked my sleeve out of his grasp. "And besides, he's my dad's best friend. He won't kill me. The police are on their way, but who knows how long it will take for them to get to us?"

  Bravely or stupidly—maybe a mix of both, I crept out and around the bin and to my feet, leaving Henry protesting behind me.

  I crept down the row of crowded pool supplies, looking back and forth. I tried everything I could to squash the fear rising in my chest. Panic would only make things worse. I'd seen Warwick go through the door ahead of me, but I didn't know where he had gone, or how much time I had. I couldn't see any other doorways. If only there was a window or a vent shaft...

  "Gotcha!" Warwick said, catching me by my hair as I shrieked. He had been hiding in a shallow space between two stacks of bromine buckets. My eyes bugged out as my vision shook, every cell inside me screaming. I'd walked right into his trap.

  "I should have known," he said, shaking his head and laughing grotesquely. "Daddy's little girl."

  "You're Hugh's friend," I said, my breath hitching in my chest. My scalp stung as he continued to yank at the roots of my hair. It felt like he was pulling clumps out. "Doesn't that matter? I thought you cared about me."

  A horrible, twisted grimace distorted his face, his eyes impossibly wide and ancient at the same time. He had morphed into a monster.

  "Friend? I'm only keeping up appearances. He's on the other side in this. There are no friends, when the Master comes to earth. Hell is closer than you think, Ariel."

  He raised the gun with his free hand, pointing it at my nose as I sputtered nonsense.

  "You're not going to shoot me," I said, babbling uncontrollably. "You wouldn't do that. You just had dinner at my house, you were watching movies with my parents. No, you wouldn't..."

  He tugged my hair harder, making me squeal.

  "Are you so sure about that? Because this looks like a gun in my hand. And I don't think anyone would miss you too badly. You're always just sitting there, coasting through life like it owes you one. Well, think of this as your just reward."

  He had lost his mind. And now I was going to die for it.

  "I will have a seat on the throne when that day comes," Warwick said, cocking the gun and readying his finger on the trigger. "He promised me a seat."

  "Don't shoot her!" Henry shouted from behind me. I didn't dare chance a glance over my shoulder, but I knew that he had emerged from the hiding place. Any relief I felt was replaced by fear for his safety. Why did I have to set such a stupid example?

  "Sorry, bud," Warwick said, extremely amused. He pointed the gun at Henry, however, and I chanced a glance behind me. All the blood had fled Henry's face, leaving him white-pale and sweaty. He was standing with both hands fisted into lumps at his side, no weapon in sight.

  "Shoot me instead," Henry said, but his wavering voice betrayed his bravery—he could barely speak. "Direct your bloodlust my way."

  "That just won't do," Warwick said. "But I will shoot you in a second, after you watch her die."

  Warwick thrust the gun back in my direction. I squeaked. The black barrel stared at me like a dead eye. "That's the epitome of true love. The stuff of all the choke-you-up songs. Too bad love is always a lie. I'm glad you're not begging for your life..."

  "Drop it!" commanded a voice to my right, as another gun slid into view and pressed against Warwick's temple. "You don't want to die today."

  I don't want to die today.

  Warwick dropped both his gun and me. I fell to the floor, my arms flailing above me as I tumbled. My feet scrambled for purchase but found nothing. I fell with a heavy thud onto the hard ground, feeling my body instantly bruise. The roots of my hair still stung.

  I saw four policemen standing behind my would-be murderer. Warwick looked at them, his hands raised in surrender, and att
empted a smile.

  "Gentlemen!" he said cheerfully. "You interrupted us. I was just informing her..."

  "Shut your mouth," said one of the officers sternly. He spun Warwick around forcefully and grasped his wrists, hooking handcuffs over them.

  Another officer came over and knelt beside me. "Are you all right, miss?" he asked.

  I couldn't catch my breath. All I could see was the barrel of the gun, the intended bullet forcing its way through my skull to destroy my brain. My finger reached out and pointed to the area where the girls' bodies were wrapped up.

  "Aw, no," the man muttered under his breath, and went over to the sleeping bags. "Mike, come over and look at this."

  I lifted myself up numbly, and wandered beside them. Someone followed me, but I didn't pay attention to whom. The room was suddenly full of men in uniforms, and I didn't even know if they'd taken Warwick away yet. Was he gone?

  "You need to stay back," the second officer said.

  "My friend...my friend Jenna," I stuttered, aware that my face was twitching and I would probably have a nervous breakdown any moment. "I need to know if it's her. If she's dead. Please."

  I watched as they slowly unzipped both sleeping bags, even though my stomach rolled and I wanted to run, to see anything but the shriveled bodies in front of me.

  Alyssa was still wearing her blue raincoat, even though her flesh was mostly gone, revealing a smiling skull beneath. Susan was still wearing her dirty party dress, in almost as advanced a state of decay. Beside the filthy sleeping bags, a purplish blur of soap remained on the concrete from where Warwick had been scrubbing.

  Strong hands grasped my shoulders, and I turned around, not knowing who to expect. Henry stood there, his hair for once a genuine mess, his face blotchy with tears. I fell into his arms with a gasp of relief and he hugged me tightly. I just wanted to disappear inside of him and pretend the world had stopped. Tears rolled off of his cheeks and pattered the top of my hair.

  "This is too much," he said softly. "This is too much. I didn't know. Are you okay?"

  I didn't feel okay. I didn't feel anything at all. "I'm alive," was all I could say.

  ###

  The period of time that unfolded next was a blur. Questions, more questions. I had to repeat the same information over and over to different people—why we had been in the basement, how we'd found our way to the pool room. Apparently, it had taken the police twenty minutes to navigate their way to us.