The Zero Game

55

“Hoist…” the female operator answered.

“You were supposed to bring the cage straight here!” Janos shouted into the receiver.

“I–I did.”

“You sure about that? It didn’t make any other stops?”

“No… not one,” she replied. “There was no one in it — why would I make it stop anywhere?”

“If there was no one in it, why was it even moving?!” Janos roared, looking around at the empty room of the basement.

“Th-That’s what he asked me to do. He said it was important.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“He said I should bring both cages to the top…”

Janos clamped his eyes shut as the woman said the words. How could he possibly miss it? “There’re two cages?” he asked.

“Sure, one for each shaft. You have to have two — for safety. He said he had stuff to move from one to the other…”

Janos gripped the receiver even tighter. “Who’s he?”

“Mike… he said his name was Mike,” the woman explained. “From Wendell.”

Locking his jaw, Janos turned slightly, peering over his shoulder at the tunnel that led outside. His cagey eyes barely blinked.

“Sorry,” the operator pleaded. “I figured if he was from Wendell, I should-”

With a loud slam, Janos rammed the receiver back in its cradle and took off for the basement stairs. A shrill alarm screamed through the room, echoing up and down the open shaft. In a flash, Janos was gone.

Rushing up the stairs two at a time, Janos burst outside the red brick building and tore back toward the gravel parking lot. On the concrete path in front of him, the man in the Spring Break T-shirt was the only thing blocking his way. With the alarm wailing from above, the man took a long look at Janos.

“Can I help you with something?” the man asked, motioning with his clipboard.

Janos ignored him.

The man stepped closer, trying to cut him off. “Sir, I asked you a question. Did you hear what I-?”

Janos whipped the clipboard from the man’s hands and jammed it as hard as he could against his windpipe. As Spring Break doubled over, clutching his throat, Janos stayed focused on the parking lot, where the black Suburban was just pulling out of its spot.

“Shelley…!” a fellow miner shouted, rushing to Spring Break’s aid.

Locked on the gleaming black truck, Janos raced for the lot — but just as he got there, the Suburban peeled out, kicking a spray of gravel through the air. Undeterred, Janos went straight to his own Explorer. Harris and Viv barely had a ten-second head start. On a two-lane road. It’d be over in no time. But as he reached the Explorer, he almost bumped his head getting inside. Something was wrong. Stepping back, he took another look at the side of the truck. Then the tires. They were all flat.

“Damn!” Janos screamed, punching the side mirror and shattering it with his fist.

Behind him, there was a loud crunch in the gravel.

“That’s him,” someone said.

Spinning around, Janos turned just in time to see four pissed-off miners who now had him cornered between the two cars. Behind them, the man with the Spring Break ’94 T-shirt was just catching his breath.

Moving in toward Janos, the miners grinned darkly.

Janos grinned right back.