God Project (31 page)

He couldn’t Just climb out.

But he couldn’t just keep wading up the stream either. He listened carefully. Here, where the stream slid quietly over a smooth bottom, the night was silent No matter how hard he tried, he could hear no dogs barking, no sounds of animals crashing through the forest toward him.

Maybe, if he was very careful, it was safe to leave the stream.

He tried to figure out which way the Academy might be. Behind him, he thought, and to the left.

Reluctantly, Randy left the water and made his way up the right bank, then, staying well back from the road, he began moving through the woods, making sure every few steps that the road was still in sight.

To pass the time he began counting his steps.

He had counted to six hundred and thirty-four, when he suddenly became aware of a light flashing in the distance.

Not the headlight of a car, for it wasn’t moving.

No, it was the light of a sign. He began running, and in a few moments he was able to read it.

The sign was for a diner, and its flashing message pulsated through the darkness:

OPEN ALL NIGHT

At last, Randy was safe.

Chapter 24

G
EORGE HAMLIN GLANCED UP
at the clock on the wall of his office. It was nearly ten, he was tired, and a long night of work stretched ahead of him. It was work he hated to have to do. Nevertheless, it had to be done. Now he faced his staff, and wondered if he looked as bad as they did. The five of them sat nervously in a semicircle around his desk, their faces drawn, their eyes furtive. Louise Bowen, upon whom Hamlin placed full responsibility for what was about to happen, sat with her head down, her fingers twisting at the fringe of a woolen shawl that was draped over her shoulders.

She looks old, Hamlin thought irrelevantly. She looks old and tired. Then he took a deep breath and began speaking.

“You all know what’s happened. This evening’s unfortunate events leave me no choice. The God Project is going to be suspended.”

A low murmuring rippled through the room, and the laboratory technician raised a tentative hand. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“I wish there were,” Hamlin replied. “But Randy Corliss is gone, and we have no way of recovering him. The dogs—the dogs lost his scent when he went into the stream. He’s gone, and that’s that. We have to assume
that he’s alive, and that he’s going to get home, and that he’s going to talk about where he’s been.”

“But what about the burn-out?” someone asked.

Hamlin responded to the question with a twisted smile. “I suppose a miracle could be happening, and Randy could be lying dead out there somewhere right now. But I don’t think we can count on that, can we? We have to assume the worst—that Randy Corliss is alive. And so we are going to close the Academy. Tonight.”

Louise Bowen’s head came up, and she stared at Hamlin with a dazed look. “Tonight?” she repeated. “But—but what about the—”

Hamlin’s eyes fastened on her, their icy blue matching the coldness of his voice. “All the subjects will be destroyed. Please bring them to the lab.”

“But—” Louise started to protest.

“Now.” The two of them stared at each other for a moment, and then Louise rose and made her way out of the suddenly silent room. When she was gone, Hamlin turned his attention to the others. The four of them had been with the project since the beginning, and no matter what happened, he knew he could count on their loyalty. But what about Louise Bowen? Could he count on hers? Probably not. It was one more thing he would, in the end, have to deal with himself. He sighed and began issuing orders. “Well pack all the records and as much of the equipment as we can. Paul Randolph is sending three trucks from Boston.” A note of sarcasm crept into his voice as he watched his staff exchange doubtful glances. “They’ll have to be enough, since they’re all we have.” He paused for a few seconds, then began speaking again, his voice as bitter as his words. “I told Randolph this was a stupid idea. We should have moved to the desert somewhere or out of the country. Using this place was asking for trouble.” His voice rose dangerously. “Ten years of work—ten
years!
And after six months out here it’s gone. Gone! It makes me—” Hearing the tone of his own voice, he bit back his words. “Never
mind,” he said, forcing himself to hold his emotions in check. “Let’s get started. It’s going to be a long night.”

Louise Bowen climbed the stairs slowly. She had made a mistake, and now the price for that mistake was going to have to be paid.

It didn’t seem right: the mistake had been so small, and the price was so high.

All she had done, really, was hesitate. She had found Randy’s room empty and started for the stairs, intent on telling Hamlin that Randy was gone. But then she had hesitated.

Instead of going downstairs, she had gone up to the attic, certain that she would find Randy there. The attic had been empty, but the ladder, normally folded up against the roof, was down, and the skylight was propped open. She had climbed the ladder and looked out over the roof just in time to see Randy slip, catch himself, and start down the tree.

At that point Louise had hesitated no more. She had hurried downstairs to report what had happened, but it was already too late. Randy was gone, and now the others would have to follow.

Louise opened the door to Adam Rogers’s room. Adam, his unruly hair falling over his forehead, was propped up in his bed. He looked at Louise apprehensively. “Did they find Randy?”

“No,” Louise admitted. Now came the hardest part. “But since everyone is up, we’ve decided to have a little party. We’re all going down to the dining room, and then we have a surprise for each of you.”

Adam’s face broke into an eager grin, and he scrambled off the bed. “Shall I get dressed?”

“No,” Louise said quietly. “You’ll be fine just the way you are.”

Then, as Adam scampered down the stairs, Louise continued along the hall, stopping at each room to repeat what she had told Adam to Jerry Preston and Billy Mayhew. And both of them, their eyes glowing with anticipation, had followed Adam down the stairs. Her
heart breaking, Louise, too, made her way to the dining room, forced herself to smile at the three boys, then went on through the kitchen and into the lab. George Hamlin turned to look at her.

“Are they ready?”

Louise nodded and tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. “I—I told them we were going to have a party,” she said, her voice shaking. “Can I make them some cocoa?”

Hamlin scowled in barely contained fury.
“Cocoa?
You want to make
cocoa
for them?”

Louise’s expression hardened with determination. “They don’t have to know what’s going to happen,” she said. “Can’t they at least
think
it’s a party? It will only take a minute.”

Hamlin glanced at the clock, then back at Louise. Then, realizing it would take as long to argue with her as it would to let her have her way, he shrugged indifferently. “All right,” he said. “You have fifteen minutes.”

As Louise set about making the cocoa, she used the time to compose herself. Whatever happened, she must not let the children see how upset she was. It would be easier for them if they suspected nothing. Forcing a smile, she carried a tray with the pot and four cups into the dining room.

“Here we are,” she said as brightly as she could. The three little boys grinned happily.

“What’s the surprise?” Jerry Preston asked.

Louise hesitated only a split second. “It’s from Dr. Hamlin. Hell tell you all about it.”

She poured the cocoa and passed the cups around. And then, four minutes later, George Hamlin appeared at the door as if on cue.

“Jerry?”

Pleased to be the first selected, Jerry Preston grinned at his friends and got up to follow Hamlin out of the dining room.

Once more Hamlin came back, and then Louise Bowen was alone with Adam.

“How come I’m always last?” the little boy complained.

“Are you?” Louise said, not really listening.

“It must be because I’m youngest,” Adam said thoughtfully. “When I’m older, will I get to do things first?”

Louise’s eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at the solemn face of the little boy. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

Adam cocked his head and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Louise bit her lip and brushed at her eyes, but before she was forced to find a reply to his question, Hamlin appeared once more at the door. “All right, Adam,” he said. Then his gaze swung over to Louise. “And you come, too, please, Louise.”

Hamlin led them through the kitchen and laboratory to a small room at the rear of the house. Adam stared at the odd machine that stood in the middle of the floor. “Is that the surprise?”

“No,” Hamlin explained. “It’s for a new test we want to give you. Can you get into it by yourself, or do you need some help?”

“I can do it,” Adam replied. The machine looked to him like a huge fat metal cigar with a glass door at one end. “What’s it do?”

“It’s to test your breathing,” Hamlin said. “It only takes a minute, and then you can go back to your friends.” He helped Adam climb into the machine. “All set?”

The little boy nodded uncertainly, and Hamlin closed and sealed the heavy glass door. Then he turned to face Louise. “Open the valve,” he said.

Louise’s eyes widened. “No,” she whispered. “No, I can’t do it—”

Hamlin’s voice hardened. “When the project is a success we will all share the glory. Until then we will all share the responsibility. Turn the valve.”

Almost against her will, Louise’s hand moved to the
valve that would open the decompression lines, “I can’t—”

But Hamlin was inexorable. “You can, and you will!”

Watching Adam Rogers through the glass door, Louise turned the valve. There was a quick
whoosh
as air rushed out of the chamber, and a fleeting look of surprise came into Adam’s eyes. Then it was over.

Five minutes later Adam Rogers’s body joined the others in the crematory that had long ago been installed in this room, and the fires were started.

   Lucy Corliss picked up the telephone on the third ring, expecting to hear either Sally Montgomery or Mark Malone at the other end. Instead, when it was a voice she didn’t recognize, her heart skipped a beat.

“Is this Mrs. Corliss?” the voice asked again.

“Yes.”

“The mother of Randy Corliss?”

Lucy felt her legs begin to shake and quickly sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. Was this it? Was she finally hearing from the people who had taken Randy?

“Yes,” she said into the phone. Then louder. “Yes, it is.” She covered the mouthpiece. “Jim? Jim!” As her former husband hurried into the room, she strained to hear what the man on the phone was saying.

“This is Max Birnbaum. I got a diner out on the Längsten road.”

“Yes?” Lucy asked once more. What was the man talking about?

“Anyway, Mrs. Corliss, about ten minutes ago, a kid comes wandering in, all soaking wet, and asks me to call you.”

“Randy?” Lucy breathed. “Randy’s there?”

“Right here, ma’am.”

There was a pause, and then Lucy heard Randy’s voice, shaking slightly, but unmistakably Randy’s. “Mom?”

“Randy? Oh, Randy, what’s happened? Where are you?”

“I ran away, Mom. I got scared, so I ran away. I was afraid I was going to die.”

“Die?” Lucy echoed. He ran away from home because he was afraid he was going to die? Where had he ever gotten such an idea? “Oh, Randy, I’ve been so worried—so frightened.”

“Will you come and get me?”

“Yes! Oh, Randy, yes! Where are you? I’ll come right now. Right now!”

“I’m at Mr. Birnbaum’s diner. It’s—I don’t know. Mr. Birnbaum can tell you how to get here.”

Lucy signaled frantically, but Jim already had a pen and paper ready. She scribbled down the directions, spoke to Randy once more, then hung up.

“He’s all right,” she cried, the strain of the last week draining from her eyes. “Oh, Jim, he’s all right!” She hurled herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. “He’s back, Jim. Our son’s back.” And then, seeing Carl Bronski standing in the doorway, his face sober, she drew away from Jim. “Carl? Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” the policeman said. “I hope not. But it could be a trick.”

Her happiness deserting her as fast as it had come, Lucy sank back onto her chair. “A trick?”

“What did he say?”

Lucy repeated Randy’s words as closely as she could remember them. When she was done, Bronski nodded. “So he ran away after all,” he said softly.

“But he wants to come home now,” Lucy replied. “It’s not a trick—I know it isn’t.” She turned to Jim, and her voice suddenly grew shy. “Come with me, Jim. Let’s go get him together.” She looked from Jim to Bronski, then back at Jim again. “It’s over. Oh, God, it’s over. I’ll get my coat, and my purse, and then—” She ran out of the room, and the two men heard her rummaging in the closet for her coat.

“It isn’t over at all,” Bronski said softly. Jim Corliss looked puzzled. “It still might all be a trick,” Bronski went on. Then, while Jim watched, Bronski picked up the telephone book, flipped through the pages, and finally
dialed a number. He spoke briefly, then weighed his options. Finally, he decided to gamble on his instincts. “Okay,” he told Jim. “I don’t think the call was a fake, so I’ll let you two go get Randy by yourselves. I can wait until you get him home to hear his story. But keep something in mind, Jim.” His voice dropped so Lucy would not overhear his words. “He said he ran away because he was afraid he was going to die. But he didn’t say he ran away from
home
. He—well, he might just as easily have run away from whoever took him.”

“If
anyone took him,” Jim countered.

“There’s still Adam Rogers, and God knows how many others.”

Jim sighed, knowing Bronski was right. “Okay. But don’t tell that to Lucy right now, will you? Let her have a few minutes. It’s been so rough—”

“I won’t,” Bronski promised. “Tell you what—I’ll stay here and man the phone in case Sally or Malone calls. And see if you can keep Randy from talking until you get him back here, all right? I’d like to hear what he has to say first hand.”