The Zero Game

54

“Hurry… run…!” I yell at Viv as I shove open the door to the cage and sprint through the wide room that stretches out in front of us. According to the sign on the wall, we’re at level 1–3 — the same level we came in on. The only difference is, we used a different shaft to get out. Wasn’t hard to find — all we had to do was follow the spray-painted Lift signs. Eight thousand feet later, we’re back on top.

“I still don’t see why we had to take the other shaft,” Viv says, trailing behind me as I dart forward.

“You’ve met Janos once — you really want to go on a second date?”

“But to say he’s waiting for us…”

“Look at your watch, Viv. It’s almost noon — that’s plenty of time to catch up to us. And if he’s already within spitting distance, the last thing we need to do is make it easy.”

Like the tunnels down below, the room up here has metal rail tracks running all along the floor. There are at least half a dozen empty man-cars, two mud-soaked Bobcat diggers, a small swarm of three-wheel ATVs, and even a few red toilet wagons. The whole place stinks of gasoline. This is clearly the vehicle entrance, but right now, all I care about is the exit.

Sidestepping between two man-cars, I continue running toward the enormous sliding garage door on the far wall — but as I get there, I spot the chain and the padlock that’s holding it shut. “Locked!” I call back to Viv.

Searching around, I still don’t see a way out. Not even a window.

“There!” Viv yells, pointing to her right, just past all the red wagons.

As I follow behind her, she runs toward a narrow wooden door that looks like a closet. “You sure that’s it?” I call out.

She doesn’t bother to answer.

Moving in closer, I finally see what’s got her so excited — not just the small door, but the sliver of bright light that’s peeking through underneath. After all that time underground, I know daylight when I see it.

I’m two steps behind Viv as she throws the door open. It’s like coming out of a dark movie theater and stepping straight into the sun. The blast of sunlight burns my eyes in the best way possible. The whole world lights up with fall colors — orange and red leaves… the baby blue sky — that seem neon when compared with the mud below. Even the air — forget that recycled stuff downstairs; as I head up the dirt road in front of us, the sweet smell of plum bushes fills my nose.

“And on the tenth day, God created candy,” Viv sings, sniffing the air for herself. She stares around to take it all in, but I grab her by the wrist.

“Don’t stop now,” I say, tugging her up the dirt road. “Not until we’re out of here.”

Two hundred yards to our left, above the trees, the triangular outline of the main Homestead building slices toward the sky. It takes me a second to get my bearings, but from what I can tell, we’re on the opposite side of the parking lot from where we first started.

A loud siren bursts through the air. I follow it to a bullhorn up on the metal teepee building. There goes the alarm.

“Don’t run,” Viv says, slowing us down even more.

She’s right about that. On the steps of one of the construction trailers, a stocky man with overalls and a buzz cut glances our way. I slow to a casual walk and nod my mining helmet at him. He nods right back. We may not have the overalls, but with the helmets and orange vests, we’ve at least got part of the costume.

A half-dozen men run toward the main mining entrance. Following the road past the trailers, we head in the opposite direction, letting it lead us back to the parking lot. A quick scan around tells me everything’s just as we left it. Tons of cruddy old pickup trucks, two classic Harleys, and — Wait… something’s new…

One shiny Ford Explorer.

“Hold on a sec,” I say to Viv, who’s already climbing into our Suburban.

“What’re you doing?”

Without answering, I peek through the side window. There’s a map with a Hertz logo on the passenger seat.

“Harris, let’s go! The alarm…!”

“In a minute,” I call back. “I just want to check one thing…”