Agonal Breath (The Deadseer Chronicles Book 1) (25 page)

Becky killed the iPad to conserve the 28% of battery life that was left and stuffed it back into her pack.

Too bad we didn’t have our flashlights any more, but at least I should be able to see the mad doctor or any of his sidekicks coming, thanks to the spirit light they gave off.

Everything stayed dark and quiet as we groped our way out into the long hallway. Unsurprisingly, there was no sign of either Brandon’s body or Jake’s ‘friend’ Tony. It stretched away into the shadows in both directions, dark and foreboding.

“Come on. This way.” Becky led me to the left, bearing west for about twenty feet until we reached a small alcove on our immediate left. Stepping into the dark recess, I found a battered wooden door that was covered in chipped and flaking paint.

Easing the door open as quietly and as carefully as I could manage (and wincing every single time one of the hinges squeaked) revealed a set of wooden steps, leading down into the gloom of what had to be the cellar.

There was a rough wooden handrail on the left. I used it to guide me as I made my way gingerly downward towards the bottom. Another creak from behind me told me that Becky was right on my tail.

It suddenly got a lot darker, and I took a quick glance over my shoulder. Becky had closed the cellar door behind us, which was probably a good idea if all things were considered, but actually made me feel more vulnerable than I would have liked to admit.

I felt trapped down here. There was nothing for it but to keep descending into the darkness. My breathing was ridiculously loud in my ears now, competing with the pounding of my heartbeat for the prize of most deafening bodily function.

We must have gone down maybe eight or nine steps before I noticed a pale, artificial white glow somewhere below and off to our left.

I kept inching my way down, one step at a time, holding the handrail in a death grip and sliding my right foot out in front of me to help feel out the way. After a couple more steps, I could feel that the consistency of the surface underneath my foot was no longer that of wood; it had more of a soft, dirt-like feel to it.

We’d hit the cellar floor.

There was a hard stone or brick wall to my right and in front of me, so the only way I could turn was to the left. It was so dark down there that I could barely make out any details, except for a bunch of metal pipes that paralleled the walls and ceiling.

Becky stepped down behind me with a soft crunch, placed a hand on my shoulder, and said quietly: “Head towards that light.”

Well,
duh.
There was really nowhere else that we
could
go.

“You still have that gun, right?” I whispered. She replied by holding up the pistol. It made me feel a little bit better, slightly less powerless.

The pale, electrically-powered glow got bigger and more intense the further Becky and I crept along that dirty and claustrophobic underground corridor. Brushing by a low-hanging cobweb almost caused me to jump halfway out of my skin at one point. Luckily, I was able to bite off the surprised yelp before it could escape.

The light turned out to be from a blue plastic camping lantern, which was sitting on top of a wooden workbench.

Gesturing for Becky to hang back for a moment, I crept in a little bit closer. Just ahead, the walls disappeared to our left and right as the corridor opened out into a wide underground chamber. A light-bulb hung dark and lifeless from bare wires in the ceiling. All of the light down there came from the lantern and two others just like it, which were laid out around the room in a rough triangle.

This part of the sanatorium had obviously been used for junk storage. Cardboard boxes, old furniture, outdoor tools, and even a bunch of ratty-looking Christmas decorations had been stacked in piles around the room, without any apparent rhyme or reason.

And right there, in the middle of the room, was Brandon.

Our friend had been trussed up, with both wrists tied behind his back and his ankles tied together for good measure. He was lying on his left side with his back towards me, perfectly still.

Sticking my neck out from my hiding place behind a rusting 55-gallon yellow drum, I took a quick look around for his captor. The mysterious Tony was nowhere to be seen, and nor were there any spirits visible.

Acting purely on instinct, I crept slowly towards Brandon’s motionless body.

It was a huge relief to see that he was still breathing. His hair was matted with dark blood, but it looked as though the wound was mostly superficial. I tapped him gently on one shoulder, and his eyes flew open, his entire body tensing up.

“
Mmmmf!
”

As he rolled towards me, I could see that somebody had stuffed a piece of dirty old rag into his mouth. One bright-red corner was sticking out. I grabbed it with my fingertips and slowly pulled it out, balling it up and tossing it into one of the dark corners. Brandon coughed and spat, trying to get the nasty taste out of his mouth.

“Oh man, am I glad to see
you,
” he gasped.

“Glad you’re okay, dude. Come on, we have to get you out of here.”

“Hey, no arguments from me.”

If this had been a Hollywood movie, I would have pulled out a knife and just cut him loose. What struck me as more than a little weird in this case was that whoever had tied Brandon up had done it with rubber tubing, not rope. It took me less than five minutes to find the free ends of the tubing and to work my way through untying the knots, which weren’t all that tight to begin with.

Brandon was free in no time, standing up straight and stretching out tight muscles with a satisfied groan.

“That feels
so
freaking good.”

“Brandon, we’re so glad you’re safe!” Becky had emerged from the shadows and gave him a quick hug, never letting go of the pistol as she did so. Releasing him quickly, she looked all around the room, scanning for threats. Brandon noticed the gun, nodded his approval, and realized what she was doing.

“Yeah, we should totally get out of here before the douchebag or his buddy comes back. One of them went looking for you guys.”

“We know,” Becky said, not taking her eyes from the dark corners of the room. “That was Jake. And he found us.”

“Uh-oh. How are you both still in one piece, then?”

“He’s dead,” I cut in.

“
Dead?
You mean you
killed him?
” Brandon was agog, gesturing at the gun Becky was holding. I actually think he found the idea kind of cool.

Becky shook her head.

“No. He was looking for us, and he found us, just like Danny said. But he also found Mister Long Brook. It…wasn’t pretty.”

“Oh.” There was a pause while the implications of making Mister Long Brook angry sunk in. I think we all shivered a little at the thought.

“What happened to you?” Becky asked him curiously. “After the shooting started, I mean. We thought you were dead.”

“Oh, that was just a flesh wound.”

Brandon fingered a small gash in his head, and I couldn’t help snickering at the
Monty Python
reference. From his puzzled expression, I guessed that he had never seen
The Holy Grail
before.

“Close call though.”

“Yeah,” he agreed ruefully. “Way too close. It knocked me down and made me see stars for a while. Before I knew it, that massive turd Tony had a gun in my back and forced me to come down here. Practically kicked me down those freaking steps. I guess the other dude was chasing after you guys?”

We both nodded.

“Anyways,” Brandon went on, “he tied me up with that stupid rubber tubing and then took off.”

“Where to?”

“No idea. But he’s definitely armed, so I’m glad you are too, Becky.”

I examined the rubber tubing under the light from one of the lanterns. “This is a pretty weird thing to tie you up with. Where did they even
find
this stuff – in fact, what were they doing here in the first place?”

Something must have caught Becky’s eye, perhaps a weird shape in the darkness or a reflection from some shiny surface, because she suddenly stiffened and began to walk towards one of the far walls, the gun held out in front of her like a protective ward or talisman.

“Becky, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered back. “But come see this.”

Curious, Brandon and I both went over to see what she had found.

“Holy crap,” Brandon whistled, loud enough that I had to shush him. “Sorry. But what
is
all this?”

It looked as though some mad scientist had been carrying out bizarre experiments down in the basement. A couple of small propane tanks were surrounded by a whole bunch of chemical containers, including bottles of drain cleaner and bags of salt. There were coffee filters
everywhere
. Boxes and boxes of cold medication tablets were scattered around randomly between what had to be
dozens
of mostly empty clear plastic bottles, the kind that Gatorade usually came in. Some of the bottles had dark brown liquid in them. There were even a couple of cat litter containers and a big plastic cooler.

“Looks like a chemistry experiment,” I said, nonplussed.

“Oh,
please.
Don’t you guys ever watch
Breaking Bad?
” Becky rolled her eyes.

“Not really,” I countered. “In my defense, I’m more of a
Battlestar Galactica
fan.”

“
Monday Night Football,
” Brandon added helpfully.

“Whatever. I know what all this is for. Guys, this is a freaking underground
meth lab.
”

“A
meth lab
?”

I felt like such an idiot. Why hadn’t I connected the dots? Now that Becky had pointed it out, it was
so
obvious. What else would two crazy types be doing in an abandoned old sanatorium in the middle of the night? Jake hadn’t exactly seemed like the ghost-hunting type to me — after all, how many ghost hunters went around waving firearms, shooting at anybody who crossed their path?

“This kind of crap can be really dangerous.” Brandon was already backing away. I figured that was a pretty smart thing to do, and followed suit myself. Meth labs tended to explode, or at least that’s what I had seen on news reports.

“Then let’s get the hell
out
of here. I know the Blazer’s trashed, but we can flag down a cop out on the highway, or even hoof it to Nederland if we have to.” Becky was already making her way towards the staircase.

I was right behind her, and had the presence of mind to grab one of the camping lanterns, just in case we needed a little extra light with which to find our way out of this hellhole.

“That may not be the best idea,” Brandon pointed out, tapping the lantern for emphasis. “We know that the other drug dealer dude is still out there. If he sees a light anywhere in the building, he’s bound to come and see what’s up, right?”

I sighed, reluctantly twisting the lantern’s power switch to the ‘off’ position, plunging the corridor back into near-total darkness. Brandon
was
right. As comforting as the light source would be among the claustrophobic twists and turns of Long Brook’s rooms and hallways, the bad guy who was almost certainly still out there hunting us would be drawn to it like a moth to a flame. I decided to keep the lantern though, just in case it came in useful later on.

“It’s too late for that, boy.”

The voice was coming from the bottom of the rickety wooden staircase in front of us.

“Oh crap,” was all I could think of to say.

We had to assume that the short, skinny male silhouette standing between us and freedom was Tony. It certainly wasn’t a spirit, because his body didn’t radiate even the faintest suggestion of psychic energy.

Also, just like the rest of his shadowy figure, the pistol that he was holding in his right hand looked one hundred percent solid.

“’Oh crap’ is right. You kids back up. Go on, move. And if any of you pulls that same move you did upstairs and tries to run for it, the next bullet is going to do a whole lot more than give you a scar.”

Obediently, we started to back up slowly into the meth lab. Becky was still out in front, closest to Tony; I was right behind her, with Brandon bringing up the rear.

The fact that Tony hadn’t said anything about Becky’s gun was the one bright spot, because it implied that he may not have actually seen it yet. Even in what little light was being thrown off from the two remaining lanterns, I could see that Becky had her right hand tucked into the small of her back, hopefully concealing our ace-in-the-hole from him.

“Stand in front of a lantern,” I hissed over my shoulder as Brandon and I turned the corner into the open space of the cellar. For once he didn’t question me, and went over towards the wooden workbench on which one of the lanterns rested, positioning himself to block out most of the light it was putting out. I made sure to do the same to the other lantern, standing in what I hoped was a nonchalant, completely innocent-looking way that made the rest of the cellar much, much darker than it had been just a minute ago.