Children Of The Mountain (Book 2): The Devil You Know (10 page)

I feel her hands twist into my thermals and pull them up. Cold air slips across my skin in spite of the fire but her fingers are warm. I shiver as they brush over my skin just above my belt and then slide around and up my sides. Her fingertips trace a line over my ribs; I feel them rising and falling with the bones there.

I breathe her name against the side of her neck, gently at first and then more urgently as I feel the last of what little self-control I began with evaporating. At last she stops and I bury my face in her neck and hold her tight, just breathing in her smell. I’m aware of every inch where our bodies are touching, the angle of her hips, the rise of her ribcage. Eventually she slides a hand up into my hair and tugs gently and I lift my head a fraction. Her eyelashes flutter against my cheek as she opens her eyes.

‘You becoming immune to my charms Gabe?’

If only she knew. If you asked me what I know of hunger I would tell you,
All there is
. But not like this. There is no satisfaction here; each taste of her just leaves me wanting more.

Across the room the fire’s slowly burning down, the flames that remain scattered among a nest of quaking embers.

‘You’d better get going.’

‘You going to be okay here by yourself?’

‘Yeah, ’course. I’d prefer it if you were staying though.’

I bend my head down to kiss her but this time before I get too far she tugs my hair again.

‘Go on, get out of here. Hicks’ll be waiting up for you.’

I stand and make my way to the door. I check for a lock on the way out but there’s only one of those keycard readers, its circuits long since fried by what Kane did to the skies to stop the furies.

*

I
MAKE MY WAY BACK
towards the lobby, following the cone of light cast by the flashlight as it meanders down the never-ending hallway ahead of me. Tell the truth I’m dragging my feet a little; all I really want to do right now is turn around and go back to Mags’ room so we can pick up where we just left off. But Dr. Gilbey’s in charge so I guess we have to do as she says while we’re here. Whatever, it’ll not be for long. Mags is right; there’s nothing to keep us. Tomorrow morning I’ll find out from Hicks what he knows about Fearrington, and then we can be gone.

I’m more than a little distracted replaying what just happened with Mags over in my head, so I’m not really paying attention. I don’t realize there’s someone standing a little further down the corridor, just out reach of the beam, until he speaks.

‘Well how y’all doin’ there Huckleberry.’

The voice makes me start. I jerk the flashlight up. It casts ugly shadows, distorting Truck’s already lumpen features. I hear a tapping sound and when I look in that direction I see something flashing in his hand. It’s the tin of chewing tobacco. He spins it then grabs the edge between his thumb and finger, rapping the lid once with his pinkie.
Spin. Tap. Spin. Tap
. For the first time I notice a small bird tattooed in the crook of his thumb. As he flips the tin the muscles there flex, making it seem like it’s moving.

‘Fine, Truck.’

The tin stops mid-spin.

‘
Corporal
Truckle.’

Yeah, I guess Mags called it; Truck is just an asshole. I’m tired, and hungry, and pissed at not being able to stay with Mags and generally not in the mood for whatever back-of-the-school-bus entertainment he has in store for me.

‘Sure. Well, good night Corporal Truckle.’

I take a step towards him but he makes no move to get out of my way. I’m close enough now to smell his breath. It reeks of frankfurter and chewing tobacco, and underneath it something else: the smoky, sweet smell of whisky.

He goes back to flipping the tin over in his fingers.

‘Weez here said I was rude to you earlier, at dinner.’

At the mention of his name Weasel steps out of the darkness behind him and grins at me. Great. Somehow I doubt he’s here to witness Truck deliver a heartfelt apology.

‘Didn’t offer you any of my dip.’ He holds up the tin.

‘Yeah, well, thanks, but I don’t think I’d like it.’

‘But you’ve never tried it. It’s Wide Cut, see? Only the best.’ His hand flips the tin again.
Spin. Tap. Spin. Tap.
‘You sure?’

‘Positive, thanks.’

‘Well then, suit yourself. Whaddya say, Weez? Do you think that girlfriend of his’ll want some? Perhaps she’ll be more friendly?’

I glance behind me in the direction I’ve come. There’s no way Truck or Weasel would actually do anything, would they? But Dr. Gilbey was already worried about the effect Mags might have on the soldiers; that’s why she’s sleeping all the way out here by herself. In a room without a lock. And they’ve been drinking. I back up a step.

‘Okay, maybe I will try some.’

Weasel looks disappointed but Truck just flashes me that gap-toothed smile. He spins the tin one more time and then pops the lid and holds it out. The pungent aroma fills my nostrils. I reach over and tentatively stick my thumb and index finger into the tobacco. It’s moist, spongy; I feel it slide up under my nails. I’m trying to extract the smallest amount I can when without warning Truck’s other hand darts out and closes around my wrist.

‘Grab yourself a decent pinch there, boy.’

I work a lump of the tobacco free and pull it out as quickly as I can. It smells pretty gross but how bad can it be? I hesitate for a moment then place it in my mouth against my gum, like I saw him do earlier at dinner.

At first there’s not much, just a little warmth on the inside of my lip. But then I feel the juices start to build, and it’s like a faucet’s been turned on in my mouth. I look around, but I have nowhere to spit. Saliva wells up over my lip and runs down my jaw. Loose bits of tobacco have started to break off. They float around my tongue; I can feel them start to slide down my throat.

Beads of sweat break out on my forehead and my stomach does a slow forward roll. My head feels light and my heart starts to race and suddenly I’m on my hands and knees, still clutching the flashlight, as what little’s left of the MRE I had for lunch comes flying out of my mouth onto the carpet along with a dark brown wad of tobacco. I continue to retch long after my stomach’s expelled the last trace of it. Above me Truck’s still chuckling, but somewhere along the way Weasel’s stopped. Now I hear him whisper:

‘Whaddya say, Truck; shall we go pay the girl a visit?’

I feel something inside me harden, and my head empties of all thoughts but one. I spit the last of the tobacco and wipe my chin with the back of my hand. The corridor’s narrow here; it’s as good a place as any. I glance up. Weasel’s still standing behind Truck, so he’ll have to wait his turn. I slide my hand into the parka’s side pocket. My fingers slip around the cold metal they find there. The blade opens easily under my thumb and I feel it lock into place. It’s already halfway out when from somewhere further along the corridor I hear a familiar drawl.

‘What’re you fellas doing over this side of the house?’

Truck turns around.

‘Aw, now nuthin’ for you to concern yourself with, Sarge. We was just funnin’ with young Huckleberry here is all.’

‘Time for you boys to be in bed I reckon.’

I hear a
Yes, Sarge
from Weasel as he turns and scurries down the hallway. Truck makes no move to follow him.

‘You might want to think on now, Hicks. Those stripes on your shoulder don’t mean what they used to.’

‘Maybe not, but this pistol here stands for the same as it always did. Any time you’d like a closer look at it, Corporal, you be sure to say.’

Truck casts one last look in my direction, then he hitches up his pants and makes his way off into the darkness.

I fold the blade back into the leatherman and let it slip from my fingers. My hand reaches for the flashlight and I get to my feet. I’m not really paying attention to where the beam goes and it slides off the wall and catches Hicks standing in the middle of the corridor. He squints and raises one hand as if to deflect it.

‘Get that damn thing out of my face.’

‘Sorry.’

I point the flashlight back at the floor. The beam circles the mess of mostly-digested MRE and ground tobacco that’s already starting to seep into the thick red pile. Hicks looks at it and then back up at me.

‘You’ll need to get that squared away before Doc sees it; she’ll have a shit-fit if she finds you’ve puked on her carpet. But first let’s go check on that girl of yours.’

*

M
AGS IS STILL UP
when we get back to her room. Her brow creases as I tell her about Truck and Weasel. She looks over at Hicks.

‘It was lucky you showed up when you did.’

He shrugs.

‘Luck had little to do with it. I was watching to see what that pair would do. I doubt they’ll be back, but all the same I’d rest easier if you slept in the bunker tonight.’

Mags looks over at me and I nod. Dr. Gilbey might be a little creepy but she’ll be safer down there with her than out here by herself. It only takes a moment to gather up her things. I sling her pack over my shoulder and we follow Hicks down the corridor.

When we get back to the Colonial Lounge Dr. Gilbey’s gone. The thick red rope hanging from the brass stanchions blocks our way, but Hicks just steps over it and continues on. A little further along the corridor ends in a wide staircase. A sign says The Exhibition Hall with an arrow pointing straight on. We make our way down a long flight of steps. At the bottom a short passageway opens abruptly into a huge room, bigger than the dining hall we were in earlier. Garish wallpaper covers the windowless walls for most of their considerable height, but otherwise everything’s plain, without any ornamentation other than the flickering emergency lights.

Hicks crosses the floor. He stops on the other side under a bulkhead lamp and feels along the wall with his fingertips. When he finds what he’s looking for he pushes and a panel pops out. Dr. Gilbey said The Greenbrier had its secrets, and now I see what she meant. The busy pattern does a good job of hiding the seam; you’d need to be right up against it to see it.

He slides his fingers behind and pulls, and a whole section of fake wall concertinas out, revealing a deep alcove behind. Set back in the shadows there’s a steel vault door. It’s no taller than a regular door, and maybe only half again as wide. A large latch handle sits in the center. Above it the words ‘Mosler Safe Co.’ have been impressed on the metal.

There’s a small intercom mounted flush to the wall on one side. Hicks pushes the red button. There’s a burst of static and then Dr. Gilbey’s voice, rendered tinny by the small speaker, drifts out.

‘Yes, Sergeant?’

‘There’s been an incident, ma’am. I need you to open up.’

There’s a long pause and then from somewhere inside the buzz of an electric motor and the sound of bolts being recessed. Hicks grabs the handle and pushes it down. There’s a heavy clunk and he pulls the door out towards us.

The doorway’s not that wide, but behind it I can see a long, low-ceilinged corridor. A single fluorescent tube halfway along its length flickers, casting just enough light to see to the end. From this point all pretense of luxury or grandeur has been dropped, and in its place familiar concrete and steel.

A door at the end of the corridor creaks open and Dr. Gilbey steps through.

‘What’s the reason for this disturbance, Sergeant?’

‘Just a little trouble with the men, ma’am. Nothing for you to concern yourself with. All the same I reckon it’d be safer if the girl spent the night in the bunker.’

Dr. Gilbey looks at Mags and simply says,
I see
.

‘Can I stay with her?’

She switches her gaze to me.

‘Is the boy in any danger, Sergeant?’

‘I don’t believe so ma’am. It was the girl they were interested in.’

She looks at me for a long moment and I get the feeling I had earlier, in the Colonial Lounge, like I’m being sized up, examined.

‘I’m afraid not, Gabriel. As I explained earlier the bunker is strictly off limits; one of you down here will be quite enough.’ She turns to Mags. ‘Now Magdalene, you’ll need to confine yourself to one of the dormitories. No exploring. Is that clear?’

Mags nods.

‘Alright. Well, come along then. It is rather late.’

I hand Mags her backpack. She takes it from me and leans in to kiss my cheek.

‘Take care, okay?’

‘I’ll be fine. Sergeant Hicks is right next door.’

I watch as she follows Dr. Gilbey down the cheerless corridor. She pauses for a moment at the end and gives me one more backward glance. Then she steps through into shadow and is gone.

*

I
T’S STILL EARLY
when I wake the following morning. I climb out of bed, rubbing sleep from my eyes. After what happened with Truck and Weasel I’m ready to be gone. Mags was right; there’s nothing for us here. I’ll find out from Hicks what he knows about Fearrington and then we can be on our way.

His room’s next to mine but there’s no answer when I knock, so I make my way down to the lobby. There’s no one there either. The bellhop cart’s returned, but our boots are nowhere in sight. I head for the dining hall but the only person there is Jax, just sitting by himself at the table. He looks up as I enter but doesn’t say anything, just stares back at me with these flat blue eyes and then goes back to shoving frankfurters into his bushy Viking beard. I go back to the lobby and take the long corridor down to the Colonial Lounge. The door’s open. Outside the first of the day’s light’s already settling over the terrace but it doesn’t look any more appealing than it did in darkness. Beyond the frozen fountain there’s a low, crumbling wall and then the ground slopes upwards into hillside. Blackened trees poke through the gray snow. The ones nearest the house have been felled, but it looks too neat to be the work of storms. I guess that’s where the soldiers must be collecting their firewood.