Cold Sanctuary (John Decker Series Book 2) (6 page)

9

Garrett Evans was loitering out of sight in the service corridor behind the row of shops on the second floor, smoking, when the call came in. His radio buzzed and sprang to life, giving him a start. He nearly dropped the half-finished cigarette.

“What is it?” He snatched the unit up and spoke into it. “I’m on my break.”

“Not anymore you’re not.” The voice of Artie Simms boomed from the speaker. “I just had a call from Elsie Smith, the old bat in 5C. Some of the units on the fifth floor have lost power. There must be a breaker out.”

“Shit.” Garrett swore and flicked a finger of ash to the floor. “That means someone will have to go down to the sub-basement.”

“And guess who gets to do that?” Artie sounded smug. “You’re the lucky winner.”

“Why can’t you go?” Garrett moaned. “I went last time.”

“So what?” Artie asked. “It
is
your job, ain’t it? I mean, your shirt does have the word
Maintenance
stenciled on it if I’m not mistaken.”

“So does yours.”

“True, only mine has the word
Supervisor
on it too. See, that’s the difference.” Artie chuckled. “Besides, I’m getting ready for bed. You’re on call, remember?”

“Fine.” Garrett pouted. He hated the way Artie always pushed him around. It wasn’t like the man was so much more experienced than he was. In fact, Garrett knew ten times as much about boilers and electrical as Artie. And when it came to plumbing he could run rings around his supervisor. But he wasn’t a kiss-ass. He told it straight and didn’t pander to the town council. That was why Artie had the fancy title and fat paycheck while Garrett had the mop and bucket. In short, Artie was a yes man.

“Next time, you can go down to the basement.”

“Not unless we swap shirts,” Artie snorted.

“Come on, you know how much I hate it down there.” Garrett dropped the cigarette and ground it out with his foot, then kicked the stub into the corner.

“Yeah, I do. And I don’t care one bit,” Artie said, his voice thin and reedy over the radio. “Now quit grumbling and do your damn job.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going.” Garrett started toward the elevators.

“And one more thing,” Artie said. “If I find out you were skulking around somewhere smoking there’s going to be hell to pay.”

“I wasn’t smoking,” Garrett lied. “I was changing a fluorescent tube outside the grocery store.”

“That had better be the truth. You know smoking inside is prohibited except in the rec room.”

“You’re a suspicious man, Artie,” Garrett replied. “A very suspicious man.”

“Yeah, and you’re a slack-off. I’ll be checking the maintenance log tomorrow and there had better be an entry in there about a blown tube.”

“There is.” That much at least was true. Garrett really had switched out a light, only it was earlier that evening. In fact, it was the only call that had come in since he came on shift, until now.

“Alright then.” Artie didn’t sound convinced. “Are you on your way yet? I told Mrs. Smith her lights would be back on within fifteen minutes.”

“I’m almost there.” Garrett reached the elevators and pressed the call button. “I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“Make sure you do.” The radio crackled and went dead.

Garrett looked down at the handset. “Asshole,” he muttered, then pushed the unit into his utility belt just as the elevator door opened.

The ride down to the sub-basement took almost no time. When the doors opened Garrett hesitated. It was nice and bright in the elevator, but outside, beyond the comfort of the car, everything was dark and gloomy. He loathed working down here. It was always freezing cold, regardless of what temperature it was outside, and the whole place smelled like mold. Worse, it was constantly damp, which played havoc with his joints. He was only fifty-seven, but recently he’d been feeling the advancing years more often. Several months ago he was under a sink repairing a faulty garbage disposal when his knee gave out. One minute he was fine, the next he was hobbling about in pain. It had swollen up like a balloon and stayed that way for two weeks. Now he wore a support bandage on that knee most of the time, not that it helped much. Whenever the temperature dropped or the rain came down he swore he could feel that damned knee stiffening up. The problem was, it always rained in Shackleton, and the temperature was in the forties for a good part of the year. What he needed was to retire and fly far away from this place, go live somewhere warm, like Florida. But that wasn’t going to happen on what he got paid. If he were lucky he’d be able to afford two weeks of vacation in Orlando, off-peak of course, and even that would be a stretch.

He sighed and stepped from the elevator, the sudden chill hitting him like a brick. It was colder than normal down here tonight. He always thought of the sub-basement as the engine of Shackleton. Housed down here, below the surface, were all the gizmos that kept people nice and civilized upstairs. There were boilers to provide hot water, a pair of huge generators that kicked in during storms, or whenever the weather got bad enough to knock out mains power, and miles of plumbing that lined the low ceiling, slung at just the right height to give you a nasty headache if you weren’t looking where you were going. It was smelly and dirty, and most of the people who lived in the town had never pressed the button marked B2 and ventured low enough to see it. If they had, they would think twice before complaining so much about everything.

The circuit breakers were all the way on the far side of the sub-basement, in just about the most inconvenient place possible. Why they didn't put them closer, near the elevator shaft, was anyone’s guess.

He plucked a Maglite from his belt and depressed the rubber switch. A beam of high-powered light shot out, illuminating a narrow walkway between the generators. Something scuttled back, retreating under one of the large machines, scared by the sudden intrusion into its space. Garrett suppressed an involuntary shudder. It was probably a rat, but even so, it gave him the creeps. He hated rats, and the sub-basement had them by the score.

He made his way along the walkway, the flashlight beam lighting his way. He passed the generators and then found himself in an open area. To his left a pile of old hard plastic chairs, put there when the town school had gotten new furniture several years earlier, were stacked halfway to the ceiling. The chairs were placed atop each other in haphazard fashion. One day he was sure he would come down here and find them scattered across the floor.

On his right the sub-basement fell away into darkness. He didn’t need to shine his light in that direction to know that there were three boilers there, and beyond those a couple of rooms, now empty, that once held workshops used by the Navy maintenance staff. He picked his way through the space until he saw the rows of fuse boxes attached to the wall ahead.

He hurried now, anxious to get the fifth floor lights working again. When he reached the electrical panels he opened the one on the left. This was where the breaker would be located. Sure enough, it was tripped. Some fool must have plugged in too many appliances at once and overloaded the circuit. If he were a betting man his money would be on space heaters. Whenever it got colder than usual, the residents pulled out their heaters in droves. Those things ate electricity like it was going out of fashion. All of that sudden wattage was more than the old wiring could take and invariably a circuit or two would go dark.

He gripped the handle and was about to pull upward, and restore power, when he heard a noise in the darkness to his right, a low hissing sound, almost imperceptible.

He let go of the handle and spun around, his eyes searching for the source of the sound.

“Hello?” he called out. “Is anybody there?”

The sound came again, louder this time.

He took a deep breath and stepped away from the breaker board, toward the sound. His flashlight beam played over the concrete floor, the boilers, and the piles of chairs.

Nothing.

The rasping hiss rose out of the darkness for a third time. It made Garrett’s hair stand on end. He took another step forward, trying to control the creeping panic that was doing its best to seize him. He resisted the urge to run, to flee from that place, back to the safety of the elevator. If he did that Artie would be mad as hell, and he didn’t relish the thought of incurring his supervisor’s wrath. The last time he’d done that Artie sent him into the main sewer pipe to clean the sludge out, and he had no intention of repeating that experience any time soon.

Besides, the strange noise had stopped now. All he needed to do was throw that damned switch and he could get back to his warm office.

Garrett turned back to the breakers, intent upon completing his task.

Something moved off to his left.

He choked back a whimper and swung the flashlight beam around, slicing the darkness.

Two beady green eyes stared at him from under the nearest boiler.

“Shit.” Garrett recoiled in fear, almost dropping the Maglite. His heart thumped in his chest so hard he thought it might break through his ribcage and escape all on its own.

The shape extracted itself from the underbelly of the boiler and stretched.

Garrett could have laughed out loud when he saw what he’d been so afraid off.

“Stupid cat.” He made a move toward the black furred feline, shooing it away. “Go on, get outta here.”

The cat observed him for a moment with cool eyes, and then let out a last hiss of disapproval before turning tail and slinking away into the far corners of the sub-basement.

“Why don’t you go find a nice fat rat to eat?” Garrett called after it, a wash of relief flowing over him. He turned to the breakers, gripped the handle, and pulled upward.

10

Artie Simms sat in front of the TV and snored in his chair, a cup of cocoa losing heat on the table next to him. The two-way radio was perched in his lap, looking like it might fall to the floor at any moment.

A burst of static spewed from the handset.

Artie jolted awake, wondering where he was for a moment before remembering that he had sat down to watch TV while he waited for his dim witted underling to fix the breaker.

He glanced at the TV screen.

Damn. The show was finished. Something else was playing, a show Artie didn’t recognize. He turned toward the clock on the wall. It was a hair past eleven. At least he hadn’t dozed off for too long.

“Artie, man. You there?” Garrett’s voice came over the speaker.

“What now?” Artie snatched the handset and spoke, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“I just thought you would like to know that the power is back on. I reset the breaker, so everything should be fine and dandy.”

“Great.” Artie stretched. He felt stiff and his neck ached. “Where are you now?”

“I’m still in the sub-basement.  I’m just about to head back up to the land of the living.” Garrett chuckled.

“You do that.” Artie hated the way his employee said that very same thing every time he went into the basement. Once was funny, but after the fiftieth time it came across as pathetic. “Now leave me alone. I’m going to bed.”

“Alright. I just thought you would want to know is all. Next time you can-” Garrett paused mid-sentence, and then spoke again, quieter now. “Dammit. That damn cat’s at it again.”

“What cat?” Artie said. “What in hell are you talking about?”

“You didn’t hear it over the radio?”

“No.” Artie scowled. “All I hear is you yakking and keeping me up. Who cares if there’s a cat down there? It’ll just eat the rats. Just get back up to the office and man the phone so I can get some sleep, will you?”

“Sure.” Garrett sounded distracted. “Still, it is odd…”

“What is?”

“The cat was under Boiler Number Two, but now it sounds like it’s all the way on the other side of the basement. It keeps making this strange sound. It doesn’t sound right. Do you think it's hurt?”

“How would I know? I can’t even hear the damn thing. Just get back up here.”

“Hang on a minute. It’s getting closer.”

“For pity's sake, boy, just leave it alone.”

“I said hang on.”

“Fine. Keep your shirt on,” Artie said.

“Oh Jesus. What the…” Garrett’s voice blared from the two-way. “Oh God!”

“What’s happening?” Artie stood up, alarmed.

“It’s not a cat!” Garrett’s voice was almost a half octave higher than it should have been. Artie heard panic behind the words. “Oh sweet Jesus.”

”Garrett?”

“It’s coming for me.”

“What is?” Artie was at the coat rack now, grabbing his jacket. He pulled it on and headed in the direction of the door. “I’m coming down.”

“Artie?” Garrett sounded terrified.

“Keep talking.” Artie pulled the door open and stepped into the corridor. He wondered if he should take his gun, but that was silly. What could there be in the basement that he would need a gun for? Besides, it was locked in the safe two floors down in the maintenance room, and that would add several minutes before he reached Garrett. “Just hang tight.” He reached the elevator and stabbed the call button. Somewhere down below came the heavy rumble of machinery as the elevator came up the shaft.

“What the…” Garrett screeched, his voice thin and scratchy. “The elevator, it’s gone. I can’t get out.”

“Oh shit.” Artie suddenly realized what he had done. “Head for the stairs.”

“The stairs?” Garrett asked. “They are all the way on the other…”

The radio went silent.

“Garrett?” Artie whispered into the unit. “Are you there?”

A low crackle of empty static filled the air.

“Speak to me.” Artie swallowed hard. He lifted the two-way to his ear, straining to hear anything that might give him a clue about what was going on.

The scream was so sudden, so unexpected, that he dropped the unit. It clattered to the ground.

Artie stared at it for a moment, his pulse racing. The silence after the scream was eerie. He bent down and picked the radio up, holding it in his hand as if it could tell him what had happened. He was still looking at it when the radio let out a short electronic hiss as the talk button on the other end was pressed.

Artie breathed a sigh of relief. Garrett was okay. Thank the Lord. He’d probably tripped over something in the darkness or stubbed his toe on a storage container. The man could be a bit of a klutz at times.

He waited, expecting to hear Garrett’s voice tell him everything was just fine, but instead a strange wailing sound rose from the speaker, high pitched and inhuman. It was like nothing he had ever heard before.

Artie felt his knees buckle as the elevator arrived and the doors slid open behind him.