Brad Meltzer - The Zero Game

Janos lightly put his hand on the driver’s-side door, caressing the polished finish. His own reflection bounced back at him from the shine in the window, but from what he could tell, no one was inside. Behind him, he heard a crush of loose gravel and, in an eye blink, spun to follow the sound.

“Whoa, sorry — didn’t mean to surprise you,” the man in the Spring Break ’94 T-shirt said. “Just wanted to know if you needed some help.”

“I’m looking for my coworkers,” Janos said. “One’s about my height…”

“With the black girl — yeah, of course — I sent ’em inside,” Spring Break said. “So you’re from Wendell, too?”

“Inside where?” Janos asked, his voice as calm as ever.

“The dry,” the man said, pointing with his chin at the red brick building. “Follow the path — you can’t miss it.”

Waving good-bye with a salute from his mining helmet, the man headed back toward the construction trailers. And Janos marched straight toward the red brick building.

Retracing my steps, I take Viv on the quick tour to catch her up to date.

“They can run a phone line down here, but they can’t build an outhouse?” she asks as we pass the red wagon. With each step, she tries to maintain the brave face, but the way her sweaty hand is gripping my own… the way she’s always at least a half-step or so behind me, it’s clear adrenaline fades fast. When she picks up the oxygen detector from the floor and looks down at the readout, I expect her to stop dead in her tracks. She doesn’t. But she does slow down.

“18.8?” she asks. “What happened to the 19.6 from the elevator?”

“The cage connects to the surface — it has to be higher up there. Believe me, Viv, I’m not going anywhere that’ll put us in danger.”

“Really?” she challenges. She’s done taking my word for it. “So where we are right now — this is no different than strolling by the Jefferson Memorial, taking photos with the cherry blossoms?”

“If it makes you feel better, the cherry blossoms don’t bloom until April.”

She looks around at the dark, mossy walls that’re splattered with mud. Then she shines the light in my face. I decide not to push back. For five minutes, we continue to weave slowly through the darkness. The ground slants slightly downward. As the never-ending hole takes us even deeper, the temperature keeps getting hotter. Viv’s behind me, trying to stay silent, but between the heat and the sticky air, she’s once again breathing heavy.

“You sure you’re…?”

“Just keep going,” she insists.

For the next two hundred or so feet, I don’t say a word. It’s even hotter than when we started, but Viv doesn’t complain. “You okay back there?” I finally ask.

She nods behind me, and her light stretches out in front of us, bouncing up and down with the movements of her head. On the wall is another red spray-painted sign marked Lift , with an arrow pointing to a tunnel on our right.

“You sure we’re not going in circles?” she asks.

“The ground keeps going down,” I tell her. “I think most of these places are required to have a second elevator as a precaution — that way, if something goes wrong with one, no one gets trapped down here.”

It’s a nice theory, but it doesn’t slow Viv’s breathing. Before I can say another word, there’s a familiar tinkle in the distance.

“Leaky faucet?” Viv whispers.

“No question, it’s running water…” The sound’s too faint to trace. “I think it’s coming from up there,” I add as she points her light in the distance.

“You sure?” she asks, checking behind us.

“It’s definitely up there,” I say, rushing forward and trying to follow the sound.

“Harris, wait…!”

I start to run. A series of ear-splitting chirps rips through the air. The sound is deafening, like a nuclear assault warning. I freeze and look around. If we tripped an alarm…

Deeper down the tunnel, a bright headlight ignites, and an engine rumbles to life. It was down here all along, hidden in the dark. Before we can even react, it barrels toward us like an oncoming freight train.

Viv tries to take off. I tug her back by the wrist. The thing’s moving so fast, we’ll never outrun it. Better that we not look guilty.

The metal brakes grind to a halt a few feet in front of us. I follow Viv’s light as it shines across the side of the banged-up yellow car and the man who’s sitting inside it. The car looks like a miniature train engine without the roof. There’s a large spotlight attached to the hood. Behind the wheel is a bearded middle-aged man in a ratty old pair of overalls. He shuts the engine, and the chirping finally stops.

“Sorry about the heat — we’ll have it fixed up in the next few hours,” he offers.

“Fixed?”

“You think we like it like this?” he asks, using his mine light to circle the walls and ceiling. “We’re a belch shy of a hundred and thirty degrees…” He laughs to himself. “Even for eight thousand, that’s hot.” I quickly recognize the flat South Dakota accent of the man who came down in the cage before us. Garth, I think. Definitely Garth. But what catches my attention isn’t his name — it’s the tone in his voice. He’s not attacking. He’s apologizing. “Don’t worry,” he adds. “We got this at the top of the list.”

“Th-That’s great,” I reply.

“And now that the air conditioner and exhaust’s in place, we’ll have you seeing your breath in no time. You won’t be sweating like that anymore,” he adds, motioning to our soaked shirts.

“Thanks,” I laugh back, anxious to change the subject.

“No, thank you — if it weren’t for you guys, this place woulda still been boarded up. Once the gold was plucked, we didn’t think we had a shot.”

“Yeah, well… happy to help, Garth.” I throw in his name to get his attention — and to keep him from staring at Viv. As always, it does the trick. “So how’s it look otherwise?” I ask as he turns back to me.

“Right on time. You’ll see when you get down there. Everything’s in place,” he explains. “I should really get back, though… We got another shipment coming in. I just wanted to make sure we had the space ready.”

With a wave, he gets back in the man-car and starts the engine. The shrill scream of the chirping pierces the entire tunnel. Just a warning system as he drives through the dark — like the beeping sound when a big truck goes in reverse. As he races past us, the chirping fades just as fast.

“Whattya think?” Viv asks as I watch him disappear in the darkness.

“No idea. But from the sound of it, there’s no gold left down here.”

Nodding, Viv heads deeper into the mine. I stay with the man-car, making sure it’s gone.

“By the way, how’d you remember his name?” she adds.

“I don’t know — I’m just good with names.”

“See, nobody likes people like that.”

Behind me, I hear her feet crunching against the rocks. I’m still focused on the man-car. It’s almost gone.

“Hey, Harris…” she calls out.

“Hold on, I want to make sure he’s-”

“Harris, I think you should take a look at this…”

“C’mon, Viv — just gimme a second.”

Her voice is dry and flat. “Harris, I think you should take a look at this now.. .”

I turn around, rolling my eyes. If she’s still worried about the-

Oh, jeez.

Up ahead… at the very end of the tunnel… I have to squint to make sure I’m seeing it right. The man-car was blocking it before, but now that it’s gone, we’ve got a clear view. Down at the lowest part of the tunnel, two brand-new shiny steel doors gleam in the distance. There’s a circular glass window cut into each one, and while we’re too far to see through them, there’s no mistaking the bright white glow that seeps out through the glass. Two pinholes in the darkness — like the fiery white eyes of the Cheshire cat.