Brett Battles - Exit 9

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know. Look around! This place was already falling apart. I bet that wall was going to collapse soon anyway. All I want to know is what you think about the box. It’s a shipping container, yes?”

Rodrigo looked at it and shrugged. “Could be, but I’ve never been this close to one before.”

“Come on, come on,” she said, stepping through the hole into the other room.

Her brother hesitated for a moment, then followed her. Now that he was within reach of the box, he seemed more interested. He ran his fingers up and down the metal surface as she led him toward the end. Before they got there, he stopped.

“Over here,” Patricia said. “I want to show you something.”

He pointed at the upper corner. “See that?”

She looked. There was a number painted near the top in faded white. She hadn’t noticed it before.

“That’s how they track this.”

“So it is a shipping container.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

“Well, then, maybe you can figure this out.” She headed around the side.

When he joined her, she pointed at the odd locks on the doors. “They’re not normal, are they?”

He bent forward for a closer look. “I’ve never seen anything like these before. Pretty elaborate. It’s almost like you have to be inside to unlock it.”

She looked at the container anew. “You don’t think someone’s in there, do you?”

“Did you hear any noise?”

She shook her head.

He raised his hand and rapped on the door. “Anyone home?”

“Don’t!”

He smiled. “Relax. Nobody’s in there. See? Let’s take a look at the rest.”

He headed around the far side, and she followed.

“That’s unusual.” He pointed at the top again, only this time not at a number.

“What?”

“There. Right at the top corner. Doesn’t that look like a hinge?”

It was hard to tell for sure, but yes, it kind of did. “What could it be for?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t I take a look?”

He jumped up and grabbed the top lip, then grunted loudly as he tried to pull himself up. When it seemed as if he wasn’t going to make it, Patricia stepped over, put her hands under his butt, and pushed. That seemed to be the extra energy he needed. He flopped onto the top, and rolled onto his back.

“Well?” she asked, taking a few steps back so she could see him.

He flipped around. Since there wasn’t enough room to stand, he sat up. “It’s a hinge all right. Runs all the way down the long edge.” He looked away from her. “Well, that’s kind of odd. There’s another hinge on the other side. Same size. You know what? I think the roof’s split in two, so it can open like shutters.”

“Is that normal for a shipping container?”

“Not that I know.”

“Maybe you should get down.”

“Just a second.”

He got on his knees and started moving toward the near end. At one point, he reached up, touching the ceiling so he’d know where it was and not bump his head. Only instead of continuing on, he stopped and looked up.

“What now?” she asked.

“The roof’s made of metal.”

“Well, yes. You can see that from outside. So what? Lots of places have metal roofs.”

“Maybe.” He continued to examine the roof, then crawled quickly toward the other side of the container. “It just seems…hold on.”

Several seconds passed.

“Rodrigo?”

“I said, hold on.”

Patricia backed up as far as she could to get a better view. Her brother had raised himself up so that his head was only a few inches below the ceiling. He was examining the point where the roof met the far wall.

“What are you looking at?”

He waved her question off without turning around. After a moment, he dropped to his hands and crawled several feet to his right. There, he looked at the roof and wall again. He repeated this two more times, ending up above the end where the side doors with the funny locks were. With his finger, he seemed to be tracing a line in the air that first moved across, then down the wall to the floor. He scrabbled to the near edge and lowered himself to the floor. As soon as he was down, he ran out of sight around the end.

Patricia stared after him. What was he doing? She was the one who brought him here. If he found something, he should tell her.

With an exasperated grunt, she headed after him, finding him around back kneeling next to the wall of the old building. He was gripping the sides of an old, narrow, wooden cabinet. If Patricia had to guess, she’d say it had probably been attached when the place was constructed. The screws holding it in place would surely put up little resistance. But as Rodrigo pulled, the cabinet didn’t move.

“I thought so,” he said.

“You thought what?”

“This is new.”

“Are you kidding? Dad’s younger than that.”

“I think it’s only supposed to look old, but I have a feeling it was put in here the same time the container was moved in. Think back to when we used to explore this place. Do you remember this being here? I don’t.”

She frowned, her mind searching through her memories, sure that the old cabinet must have been there, but her brother was right. She didn’t remember it. In fact, she was positive now it hadn’t been there.

“What’s it doing here, then?” she asked.

“Hiding what’s underneath.”

Could he not just give her a full answer? “And what would that be?”

He shrugged. “Power, for sure. Probably some sort of controller unit.”

“For what?”

“That,” he said, looking at the container. He moved his gaze to the roof. “And that.”

“Rodrigo, what are you talking about?”

He smiled at her. “There are motorized clamps along the high end of the roof.” He pointed to where he’d been looking earlier. “And along the side walls I think there are rollers. You want my guess?”

She looked to the heavens. “ Por Dios. Yes!”

He tapped the not-so-old cabinet beside him. “I think when this gets a signal, the clamps release, the roof rolls off, and the top of the container opens.”

It took a second to process what he was saying. It was so far off from anything she expected. “Why?”

“I have no idea.”

“Drugs?” she suggested.

Rodrigo suddenly grew wary. It was obvious he hadn’t considered that possibility. “I’m not sure why they would set things up like this, but I guess, maybe.”

She frowned. “We should tell Uncle Hector.”

Uncle Hector was a member of the Buenos Aires police, and if this was some kind of illegal operation, he’d know what to do.

Rodrigo looked back at the container. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

The Director of Preparation-the DOP-was now in full charge of Project Eden. Until it came time for the Director of Recovery to take over, no one, not even the Principal Director, could overrule any order given by the DOP. This change of command had been worked out long ago, and had been written into the procedures of the Project. Each part was critical, and the appropriate Director for that segment of the plan would take charge for the duration of that particular phase.

The vote on moving forward had taken place two months earlier. Per protocol, all the Directors and the Principal Director had to vote in the affirmative if implementation was to occur.

Going in, the DOP had not been one hundred percent sure they had the votes. There were a couple of Directors he was just unable to get a read on. Turned out he needn’t have worried. Everyone, without hesitation, voted yes, and from that moment until one month after Implementation Day, he was in charge.