Duck Boy (26 page)

Sounds of a key being pushed into the lock of the lab door made him duck
behind a workbench. The door to the lab opened, and several people walked in
wearing sterile clothing—hairnets, facemasks, uniforms, and special cloth
footwear. They were discussing something in great detail. The lights in the lab
flickered on.

Cupboard.

Steve opened a set of cupboard doors under the worktable. The space was
completely jammed with equipment. Now on his belly, Steve slithered across the
floor to the next cupboard door. He opened it. A little room.

Enough for me.

He flattened himself and wormed inside. He slid the glassware toward the
front, moving his body to the back. With the cupboard door closed, he sat in
complete darkness except for the light straining though a venting grate just
above the cupboard doors. The muffled noises of the workers became sharp and
clear through the vent.

As Steve quietly adjusted his body to the cupboard, the mouth of his
backpack gaped on the bottom of the cupboard, and his plaque—his Benu
stone—slipped to the floor of the cupboard near the back.

“We’re definitely into the second stage,” said the first woman, her voice
muffled by a sterile facemask. “We’ve got eight different batches of potential
prima materia. And they’ve been properly blackened.”

“This looks promising,” said another woman.

“We’re definitely on the way,” the first woman stated. “Have you extracted
any information from the girl and the man?”

“The man doesn’t know anything,” said one of the men. “The girl knows
something, but won’t talk.”

“Make her. We’ve all invested heavily in this project. And I don’t think we
should move on from where we are until we get something out of her.”

“Frank has some kind of drug that will make her talk. He’s getting it from
one of his contacts. It should be here anytime.”

Sounds like Uncle Edward and Lindsay are here.

The woman instructed her staff to process the blackened dishes into sterile
storage. Steve could hear the clink of the dishes as they were moved around.
Then the voices exited the room. But Steve never heard the lock of the first
door open, so they had probably moved to another room in this lab.

This is my chance.

The cupboard door opened noiselessly as Steve pushed it.

He stepped cautiously into the room. He hunched so his body stayed below the
tops of the workbenches and scrambled closer to the door, listening for voices
and footsteps.

He pushed open the first door leading to the hallway. Then he pressed his
ear to the second door—the door that opened into the hallway—listening for
sounds of life. Nothing. Steve pushed down the latch and opened the heavy door
slightly so he could check the hallway for people. No one. After he slipped
through the door, he nursed the door closed until he heard the mammoth clunk as
the door locked.

He wandered carefully up the hallway, stopping outside of any doors he could
find, listening. At an intersection of two main hallways, he found a room with
windows that would let him keep both hallways in view.

Voices and footsteps echoed up the intersecting hallway. The sounds of
activity crisscrossed around him. He peered through the bottom corner of one
window—the room loomed, dark and empty. Steve tried the door and found it open.
At the back of the room there was a large, metal storage cabinet.

Cabinet.

Steve opened it and found he could stand inside with the door slightly ajar.

How long until Larry gets here?

He checked the phone. There was an hour left, at least, before Steve could
expect Aunt Shannon and Larry.

He watched for several minutes and saw a few people he didn’t recognize exit
from one room and walk up the hallway into other rooms.

How will I figure out where Lindsay and Uncle Edward are?

He observed the room as he tried to think up some possibilities. His eyes
focused on a sprinkler head poking through the ceiling into the room he was
hiding in.

There’s my plan.

Steve recognized the sprinkler head from his dad’s enthusiastic instruction
on fire equipment.. It was an ancient sprinkler system.

If I trip this sprinkler, every sprinkler in the building
will go.

The impending mayhem brought a chuckle to Steve’s throat. He removed his
coat, letting it fall to the bottom of the metal closet and sliding it out of
the way. He freed his backpack from one of the sleeves and hung it on his back.
Both hallways seemed clear. Ducking low, he stepped into the room.

There was a dusty old chair in the corner, and Steve brought it over and set
it underneath the sprinkler head. He stood on the chair and mentally measured
the space between his outstretched hand and the head. He needed something two
feet longer to help him reach the sprinkler head. There wasn’t much in the room
except an old garbage can. Steve retrieved it, turning it upside down on the
chair.

He heard a door open close by. Back in the storage cabinet again.

A lone figure crossed the hall and entered another room. And Steve made his
move. He scaled the chair and garbage can, easily reaching the sprinkler head.
With both hands he snapped the lead trigger from its place; the sprinkler
sprouted a flower of water, soaking him. He was down in a flash, disassembled
the chair and garbage can, and closed himself in the storage cabinet again.

By setting off the one fire sprinkler, other sprinklers in the remainder of
the building began to jet water. He smiled.

Everyone is getting wet.

Steve watched the sprinklers kick in, one by one up the hallway. It was a
perfect indoor rainstorm.

Thank you, Dad.

Steve kept the door open a crack, just enough to monitor what was going on
as water fountained from ceilings everywhere.

A thunder of activity. Angry voices shouted and called up and down the
hallway. Soon he saw several drenched people running up and down the hallway,
frantically yelling orders and trying to find the shut-off valve for the
sprinkler system. He worked hard to keep track of which doors opened and which
doors didn’t, and to try to identify any familiar figures.

People were running in and out of rooms for several minutes, slamming doors.
One or two slipped and skated down the slick of water in the hallway. Others,
bewildered, found the driest spots they could and waited.

As he scanned the hallways through the darkened windows, he saw Lindsay and
Uncle Edward emerging out of a room at the far end of the hallway, drenched
from head to toe. A couple of heavyset men prodded them forward with the
barrels of guns. The two men herded the hostages down the hallway until they
found another room kitty-corner from where Steve was hiding. They unlocked the
door with a key and pushed both of their victims into the room. Uncle Edward
fell. One of the men kicked Uncle Edward’s legs inside the room far enough that
the door could swing closed.

With the door closed behind them, the men stood in the hallway as the sprinkler
system spouted water into the building. A few minutes later, the sprinkler’s
lively spray of water began to droop, until it was a mere drip from the
sprinkler heads.

They found the water-supply tap.

Steve relaxed in his hiding spot. Now he needed to wait for the cleanup to
begin and for things to calm down so he could work his way to Lindsay and Uncle
Edward.

Confused and angry voices shot up and down the hallway. Steve smiled at the
commotion, satisfied with all of the results.

“Our experiments are ruined!” shouted an angry voice. Another voice responded,
but in another language. “Where’s Rudy? He needs to know that the experiments
are over. We’re done here. If the hostages don’t give us some answers in
fifteen minutes, we’ll kill them and leave,” said a voice Steve recognized.

Mr. Gold.

Mr. Gold halted in front of the windows of Steve’s hiding spot. “Come on,”
he said to a man who stood against a wall. “Get things together. We’re
leaving.” He whipped his head towards the guards in front of the room housing
Lindsay and Uncle Edward. “We don’t need both of you guys guarding the door.
Carl, give us a hand with the cleanup.” Mr. Gold turned toward the remaining
guard and lowered his voice. “Don’t tell the prisoners what we’re doing. They
may get desperate.” Mr. Gold gave an ugly laugh. He turned and stormed up the
hallway.

The hallways were humming with activity. Steve wasn’t sure how he was going
to get over to Uncle Edward and Lindsay—until he noticed the ceiling tiles.

That could work. I just need to get above the ceiling without anyone
noticing me.

The only cover in this room was a short section of wall, behind the door.

Slowly, people seemed to regain control after the confusion. Steve watched
the guard across the hall. When the guard turned to one end of the hallway to
chat briefly with someone, Steve opened the door to his hiding spot, hunched
down, and scuttled into the dark behind the door, taking the soaked chair and
garbage can with him.

As he glanced at the door’s handle, he noticed that it could be locked with
a button from his side. For extra safety, he locked the door. The chair and
garbage can gave him enough height to reach the ceiling. He lifted the tile
above him and slid it quietly to one side, raising his head into the space
above.

In the dim, dusty light above the tile, he saw a clear path to the other
room.

This will work.

Without hesitation, he pulled himself up into the space above the ceiling.

Steve carefully examined the metal bars between the ceiling tiles, checking each
piece of the ceiling system before he moved to see if it would support his
weight.

He set his foot gently on the center of a ceiling tile and slowly transferred
his weight to the tile. The ceiling tile bent easily, and would have broken if
he’d continued.

Steve pulled his weight back from the tile and stood on the metal brackets
supporting the ceiling tiles; the support brackets were strapped to the building’s
roof with strong cables.

Step on the support brackets.

The noise below was perfect cover for any mistakes he might make. He stepped
from bracket to bracket, carefully but quickly. The ceiling shivered a little
as he shifted from support to support. In two minutes he sat above the room where
Uncle Edward and Lindsay were being kept. He knelt down on a slat and carefully
pried up a corner of a ceiling tile. The room below was in darkness.

“Lindsay?” Steve whispered hoarsely into the darkness. “Uncle Edward?”

“Who is it?” It was Lindsay’s voice in a whispered reply.

“Lindsay, it’s Steve.”

“Really?” she said in a regular speaking voice.

“Sssssh!” Steve ordered. “Whisper!”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I found you, too. But you need to get out of this room right
away.”

These guys are planning to hurt you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am,” Steve replied. “You need to come with me.”

“OK, Steve, we’ll try.”

“Do you have any furniture in the room?”

“I think so,” Lindsay replied. “But it’s dark down here. Let me check.” She
spoke some quiet words to Uncle Edward then set about exploring the darkness of
the room. “Steve?”

“Yes?” he replied.

“There’s a table and a chair.”

“Put the chair on the table and you can both climb up here,” Steve
suggested.

“Steve, I don’t know if it will work. Uncle Edward is really weak.”

“He has to escape.”

“OK. We’ll get him out,” Lindsay responded.

Steve heard some shuffling below as she moved furniture and explained to
Uncle Edward what needed to happen. The noise from all corners of the building
helped them work undetected.

A few minutes passed and Uncle Edward’s head popped above the ceiling tile.

“Hi, Steve.” Uncle Edward smiled weakly.

“Hi,” Steve replied. Warmth flooded him as he saw his great uncle’s face
again. “It’s good to see you. Let’s get you up here.”

Steve stood carefully and positioned himself just above Uncle Edward.

“Give me your hand.”

“I don’t know if I can make it.”

“Give me your hand,” Steve ordered. Uncle Edward lifted a shaking, wrinkled
hand to Steve. Steve grabbed it firmly.

“Lindsay, can you push from underneath?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.” Steve pulled as hard as he could. Uncle Edward’s body rose slowly
into the space above the ceiling. Steve waited until about half of Uncle
Edward’s body rose above the ceiling level, and then he pulled the old man so
that he flopped onto the ceiling tile. Guiding Uncle Edward’s hands to a
support bracket, Steve whispered, “Hold on to this.” The ceiling quivered as it
adjusted to the new weight. “Uncle Edward, I’m going to get the rest of you up
here.”

“I’ll be fine, Steve.”

“Lindsay, can you get through the tile here? Then, we can both help Uncle
Edward get up here.”

“I’m coming.” Lindsay’s face popped through the opening in the ceiling, and
she hopped lightly into the opening and pulled herself in.

“We can’t walk on the tiles,” Steve whispered to both of them. “If you step
on a tile with your whole weight, you’ll fall through. You can only walk on the
metal frame around the tiles—it’ll support our weight.”

“Gotcha,” Lindsay replied.

“Uncle Edward, you’re safe the way you are because most of your weight is
resting on the brackets,” Steve said quietly. Once we get you standing up,
you’ll need to keep your feet on the brackets, too.”

“I think I know what to do,” he said.

“Lindsay and I are going to pull the rest of your body up, all right?”

“Sure,” Uncle Edward replied in a weak voice.