William Weber - System Failure

Dillon cupped the mass of keys in his hand, weighing them. “I don’t know.”

It was then that something occurred to her. She remembered that first door they’d passed on their way in. It had read ‘Lost and Found.’ Could one of the keys on this chain open that door? And if so, what were the chances they might find something useful inside?

Without saying another word, Holly removed her phone, turned on the flashlight and headed back into the darkened corridor.

“Hey,” Johnny said, his voice trailing after her. “Where you going?”

She reached the door and went through the ring systematically. Moments later, the others were lined up behind her, looking very much like members of Mission Control watching a rover touch down on an alien world. Eric was holding his breath. Dillon was the only one emotionally detached from the significance of the moment.

The fourteenth key slid inside the lock. Holly twisted her wrist and the locking mechanism gave way. The group let out a collective sigh. With both hands, Holly pushed open the door at precisely the same time they caught the muffled sound of raised voices emanating from Concourse B. They all paused, a tingle of alarm shivering up their spines.

“What’s going on out there?” Johnny whispered. His eyes were wide and the sudden dryness of his mouth made his tongue click.

“Why don’t you go find out?” Riley said, nudging him in that direction.

“Uh, no, thank you. Why don’t you go?”

Holly withdrew the key ring and slid it into her pocket. “Fine. Don’t head inside until I’m back.”

Ten yards later she reached the double doors and nudged the left one open a crack. From here she could see people scurrying about. Others were standing up in their makeshift beds. To a person, the fear on their faces was undeniable. They also happened to all be looking in the same direction, toward the connecting link between Terminal One and Terminal Two. Holly pushed herself out a little further and noticed a group of ten to fifteen TSA agents pressed against the glass partition. On the other side was a rabid mob, pounding against the glass with fists, improvised weapons and anything else they could get their hands on.

If Holly hadn’t known any better, she’d swear a deadly riot had broken out in Terminal Two and it was quickly heading this way.

The sky was a crisp azure blue as Nate and Dakota came upon Uncle Roger’s log cabin. Nestled along a bend in the creek, now frozen over and buried by a meter of snow, the cabin was simple and rustic, likely a reflection of the man who’d built it. It featured a dormer-style roof with a generous porch out front and a stone chimney climbing the western wall. The glare from the sun made it impossible to see inside. The snow leading up to the cabin was slightly ruffled, as though someone had either come or gone several days ago. Otherwise, there was no sign of activity. Dakota glanced up at the chimney and, seeing it dormant, couldn’t hide the disappointment on her face.

“If he isn’t here, I don’t have a clue where he would be,” she said, bracing herself against the letdown that was sure to come.

Nate tugged on the horse’s reins, drawing Wayne to a stop, his thin, powerful legs swallowed by a meter of white powder. The animal made a sound and Nate patted his neck.

“Is this where he keeps the hardcore bunker Five mentioned?” he asked, dismounting and removing the G36 assault rifle. Nate stumbled, favoring the low-level throbbing in his knee that was never far away.

Dakota followed suit. “I can’t say for sure,” she admitted. “Uncle Roger never took me there. Never even told me where it was. He considered any mention of it a serious breach of security.”

“He sounds like a real hoot at a party,” Nate observed, leading Wayne to a nearby tree and tying him there. As they approached, weapons drawn and in the low ready position, Nate wasn’t sure what worried him more: finding out that Roger was gone, or finding he was home and no longer alive. He wasn’t entirely sure Dakota could handle seeing her uncle in such a state.

“Let me go in first,” she said, pushing past him.

He reached for her. “Hold up, missy. We have no idea who or what is in there.”

But the girl was no longer listening. She waded through fine, granular snow, reaching the front door a few seconds before Nate. Turning the knob, she pushed her way inside and let out a terrible gasp.

Nate leapt forward. The figure of a man in dark winter clothing lay sprawled face down mere feet from the entrance. Dakota stumbled to one side, pressing her back up against a nearby wall. A single gloved hand covered her mouth. Nate’s gaze flit between the girl and the man on the ground.

For the girl’s sake, please God, don’t let this be him.

Nate bent and turned the dead man over. The body was stiff, whether from the cold or from rigor mortis, Nate couldn’t tell. The hole through both sides of his jacket made clear he had been shot by a large-caliber bullet. A strange object hugging the far wall caught Nate’s attention. It looked like some sort of booby trap.

“Wait here,” he told her. “And don’t move.”

Nate crept forward. To his left was a kitchen and dining area. To his right was a couch and a well-worn leather recliner both facing the fireplace. He cut a wide path around the object he’d spotted earlier. Drawing up next to it, he saw that his initial suspicion had been correct. It looked as though Uncle Roger had left a little surprise for anyone dumb enough to come snooping around. Was the man on the floor one of Five’s goons, dispatched here days ago to find Dakota’s uncle? The scene they’d discovered at his home in Rockford had made clear he was in the middle of being tortured when he’d managed to break free and kill his tormentors. Afterward, this guy had apparently been dispatched to finish the job and ended up with a .30-06 through the chest and a mouthful of stained wood flooring.

“You see anything?” Dakota called out.

“Yeah, your uncle left a little surprise. I’m just glad that guy discovered it first.”

They spent the next several minutes searching the main floor for any other booby traps. The cabin looked messy. Drawers and cupboards had been left open. The sink was filled with used MRE packages and empty cans of food. Ice-cold bottles of water were stacked on the counter. It was hard to tell if Roger had stayed here a few days before moving on, or whether this had been done by someone else.

Nate was about to offer Dakota a few words of solace to mitigate the disappointment she was surely feeling when he caught the sound of someone upstairs.

Nate pressed an index finger to his lips. “You hear that?” he whispered, raising his weapon and turning to face the staircase.

The floor creaked like someone was walking around up there.

“Watch the fort down here while I go check it out,” he told her, moving slowly, deliberately toward the staircase.

“Let me come with you,” she whispered, her voice low, but straining to be heard.

He motioned with one hand to the front door and nodded, hoping she’d understand what he was asking her to do. Dakota nodded, stomping in that direction, opening and then closing the door loudly.

Meanwhile, Nate kept his G36 leveled as he reached and then began to climb the stairs. He took them slowly, one at a time, pivoting to keep his weapon trained on any threats from above. The idea was for whoever was in the cabin to think they’d left. It appeared to work because Nate heard more pronounced footsteps coming from the room at the end of the hall. The door was closed, a thin stream of sunlight visible from beneath the door sill, blinking as whoever was behind it walked back and forth.