Lost in the Echo (9 page)

19

At Carol Herman’s insistence, they turned off the TV and went into the dining room, where she had set up a board game on the table.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have many games except this one. Do you girls know how to play?”

Both Alice and Joy nodded their heads, said they did, sat down and prepared to play the game. Avalon just stood there, not sure what to say.

“What about you, dear?” Carol Herman asked.

Avalon shook her head. She didn’t want to admit she had never played such a classic game before, but it was the truth. Growing up, neither of her parents had been much for board games. They had much preferred her to play outside, or read a book. Maybe if she’d had a sibling, things might have been different. They could have spent Saturday nights huddled around a table like this one, a bowl of popcorn beside them, laughing and having a good time.

“It’s been a while since I played it,” Avalon lied. “I might be pretty rusty.”

“That’s okay. It’s been a while for me, too.”

They sat down at the table—Monty and his girls, Avalon and Carol Herman—and Carol asked Alice and Joy if they would like to help explain the game. It was
Scrabble
, after all, one of those games Avalon assumed everyone but her knew how to play, and it made her wonder what else she had missed in her life. And it wasn’t just recent history, either, though she was sure she had missed quite a bit. Didn’t most strung-out junkies miss a lot?

Thinking about being strung-out made her think about Oxy, and she wondered where she could find some, whether there might even be some substitute worth trying in the medicine cabinet.

“Dear?”

Avalon blinked. Realized Carol Herman and everyone else were watching her.

“Yes?”

“Do the rules make sense?”

No, they didn’t, but that was because she hadn’t heard them, too focused on wanting another fix and telling herself she didn’t, but she smiled and said yes.

And so they began the game. Avalon forced herself to concentrate. Trying to keep up. Trying to act like she had been listening before. Because what if someone asked her why she hadn’t been listening? What would she say? Tell them the truth? Of course not. Never. So then what?

It didn’t matter anyway. Because not even five minutes into the game, Monty paused and cocked his head. “Does anybody else hear that?”

They all went quiet. A grandfather clocked ticked in the next room. Otherwise, the house was silent.

Except, no—there was something else, distant and faint.

Carol Herman asked, “What is that?”

They rose from the table and went to the closest window overlooking the front yard and down into town. There didn’t appear to be anything, at least as far as Avalon could see, but the sound was getting louder.

Then Alice—or was it Joy?—pointed without a word, and they saw it, flitting quickly over the yard.

“What in the world is that?” Carol Herman asked again.

Whatever it was, it was flying toward the other houses down the hill. There were others, too, first only three that Avalon could see, then five, six, seven.

“Are those bees?” Joy (or was it Alice) asked.

Suddenly, one of the things lowered into view, right on the other side of the window, hovering for a moment in front of them before starting away.

One of the girls screamed.

The thing outside paused, swung back around, and flew at the window.

It tapped against the glass several times, confused by the clear solid. It continued bouncing against the glass, never hard enough to break it, staring at them with large black eyes.

“A wasp,” Monty whispered, incredulous.

The thing—the wasp—backed away and hit the window harder. The glass rattled, but held.

One of the girls went to scream again, but Monty clamped a hand over her mouth and whispered, “Shhhh. Nobody move.”

Nobody did. They stood there, waiting, silent, until the wasp seemed to lose interest and flew away toward the rest of the houses.

The buzzing was even louder now. Closer. They could see more of the wasps down in town, and there was a gunshot, then several gunshots. One of the girls started crying.

Somewhere through the house, came a tinny sounding cry: “
Help!
”

The voice was coming from the kitchen. They hurried toward it as the voice kept crying for help, and it was only when they entered that they realized the room was empty.

Carol Herman said, “The intercom.”

Monty glanced at her. “What?”

She pointed at the intercom on the wall, and at that moment, another tinny cry came through.

“
Help us! Please, anybody!
”

Monty crossed the kitchen to the intercom and pressed the button.

“Radar, Lisa, can you hear me?”

A pause, and then Radar’s voice: “Yes we can, Mr. Beaumont. We’re trapped.”

They could see the observatory through the window. Nearly a half dozen wasps crawled up and down and all over it.

Monty said into the intercom, “Kids, listen to me carefully. We’re going to get you out of there. Can any of those things get in?”

Another pause.

“Not anymore,” Radar said.

“Good. That’s good. Now like I said, we’re going to get you out of there. But you need to stay quiet. Okay?”

Radar’s voice, barely a whisper: “Yes.”

“Just stick tight for now. Can you do that?”

“Yes. But please, hurry.”

Monty turned away from the intercom. He stared through the window at the wasps crawling around on the observatory.

Avalon said, “What do we do now?”

Monty was quiet for a long moment, facing the window. Then he turned to them, took a deep breath, and said, “I think I have a plan.”

20

They had finished with the left hand and were starting on the right. Charley had sobbed and begged them to stop, but he still hadn’t told them what they wanted to know. Despite his blubbering state, the man had the resolve of a highly trained soldier, and Osterman wasn’t sure the man would ever talk—not really out of commitment to their mutual employer, but out of spite. Osterman took Charley’s finger and prepared to apply slow, steady pressure until the joint gave. But he stopped short. The floor beneath them shook.

Osterman and Boyle paused, looking at each other. In the past couple of hours they had become accustomed to the trembling of the earth, while the roots moved through the dirt, seeking out the sources of various vibrations. But what they felt now was different. It was more insistent, more intense.

“What is that?” Boyle asked.

Osterman wasn’t sure what he meant at first, but then he heard it: out past the door, down the corridor, into the hanger, was that…clapping?

Without a word, both men turned away from Charley and headed for the door. They went down the short corridor and into the hanger. They found the group still tied up to the pipe, only they were all stomping their feet on the floor, as hard as they could.

Bam bam bam
.

The group noticed them at once. Only the pastor hesitated, his feet pausing in the air. Then he brought them down just as hard as his friends did.

The trembling in the garage was out of control. The concrete was beginning to crack, as the roots kept trying to push their way through.

“Stop it,” Osterman said. Then, shouting: “Stop it!”

They didn’t stop. They just kept going. Griffin met his eye, and there was a coolness to the look, a smug acknowledgement that if they were going to die, Osterman and Boyle were going to die, too.

The rubber grip of his sidearm felt reassuring in his hand as he slipped it from the holster and aimed it right at Griffin’s head.

Griffin didn’t blink, didn’t even pause. He kept stomping.

Osterman cocked the hammer back.

Griffin kept stomping.

Griffin’s resolve and lack of fear unnerved him.
Who the fuck is this guy?

The ground trembled even more, with such force that it nearly knocked Osterman over. Boyle shouted, “Shit!” A gunshot went off. Osterman glanced over his shoulder and saw a root had broken through the concrete. It was only feet away from Boyle.

Boyle fired again, but the root seemed to dodge the bullet. It snapped forward, right at Boyle, who managed to dive out of the way. As he scrambled to his feet, the ground trembled again. More concrete gave way, and two more roots tore up through the floor. One rose up on the other side of the garage, by the Humvees, but the other came up near Boyle.

Right behind him.

The man never had a chance.

The root behind him snapped forward. It didn’t go for his legs. Instead, it wrapped around his neck, squeezed tight, and jerked him off his feet. Osterman started toward Boyle, but he barely took two steps before the man was dragged down into the hole.

Just then, more roots shot out of the ground. Osterman saw one coming at him from the corner of his eye and spun, shooting at it. He backed away and shot at another root, then another. Six of them were in the garage now, while still more fought to push their way in.

The stomping, he realized, had stopped. He noticed the group were now pushing and pulling on the pipe. The end of the pipe tore away from the wall. The group scrambled to their feet, rushing toward the broken end. He raised his gun, meaning to shoot at them, to kill them, to do anything to pay them back for what they had done, but another root crashed through the ground right beside him, nearly toppling him over. He adjusted his aim toward the root and opened fire.

21

Alice and Joy sat on the couch holding each other, tears in their eyes, both quietly weeping. Carol Herman knelt down in front of them whispering words of encouragement. Monty stood beside Avalon, speaking to her until suddenly he stopped and waved his hand in front of her face.

She blinked, startled, and looked at him.

“Did you hear anything I just told you?”

She nodded, hesitant.

“Then repeat it.”

“You… uh… You’re going to draw the wasps out to the front of the house. Once they all leave, I’m going to get Radar and Lisa from the observatory.”

Monty nodded slowly, studying her. “And we need to hurry. Are you sure you can do this?” Before she could answer, he said, “Honestly, you don’t have a choice. We’re running out of time.”

Avalon swallowed. She knew he was right. Who else was going to go get the kids? Monty had already explained the plan to Radar and Lisa through the intercom. Radar said they could just run out once the wasps went away, but Monty didn’t want to take the chance if any of the wasps returned. If they did, they would come fast, and the kids would be out in the open with nothing to protect them. That was why Avalon would be there, armed with a gun, despite the fact she had never fired one—even though she had grown up in a gun town, and had an ex-Ranger for a father.

Speaking of guns, Monty hefted the silver handgun Carol Herman had retrieved from a lockbox in the master bedroom. She said it belonged to Winslow, and she didn’t know the last time he had cleaned it, but she assumed it still worked. Monty had his own handgun.

Monty held the gun out to her. Avalon just stared at it. He kept it there, waiting, and finally she reached out, took the weapon and held it at her side.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay with that?”

“Just point and shoot,” she whispered. “That’s what you said, right?”

He smiled, touched her arm and said, “You’ll do fine, Lony. I’m sure of it.”

“What if those…
things
don’t fall for it? What if you shout your head off, and they just stay where they are?”

“They won’t.”

“But how do you know?”

“I just do.” He forced another smile, but Avalon could see he was fooling himself. At the moment, there wasn’t much else they could do. “Now I want to talk to my girls first, before we do this.”

Carol Herman was still kneeling down in front of the girls, whispering to them, when Monty approached. She struggled to her feet and stepped aside, so Monty could take her place. He held his arms out wide and hugged the two girls tightly. Wrapped in their father’s arms, they both burst into tears again. One of them—Alice?—started begging him not to do this.

“It’s okay, honey,” Monty said. “I’ll be right back. It’ll only be a few minutes. Everything will be fine.”

Avalon watched them, wondering where her own father was at that moment. She glanced down at the gun in her hand and thought about the power she now had to take life.

Just point and shoot
, she thought.
It’s just that simple
.

Yeah, right
.

Carol Herman approached her. She wore the same damned smile she always did, the one Avalon had asked her about. The smile freaked Avalon out—she wanted to scream at the woman to stop, to just be normal for once.

The old woman held out her hand.

Avalon said, “What?”

“The gun, dear.”

“What? Why? I…I need it.”

“No. You don’t.”

Monty hugged his girls one last time. He kissed them each on a cheek, then stood up and headed toward the two women.

“Ready?” he asked Avalon.

Carol Herman said, “She’s not going.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m going in her place,” Carol said. “Actually, Monty, I’m going in
your
place. I’ll distract the wasps. You save the kids.”

Monty looked bewildered. “That’s out of the question.”

“I’m afraid it’s the only option we have. No offense to Avalon, but she can’t handle this. She’s still working herself out of whatever mess she was in when the world went sideways. You need to go in her place.”

“But…” Monty shook his head. “But there’s a very good chance you—”

“I know what the chances are. I also know those two precious girls just lost their mother. I’ll be damned if they lose their father, too.”

Monty stood quiet for a long moment, thinking about it. Finally he nodded. “Fine,” he said. Then to Avalon: “Keep an eye on my girls. We won’t be long.”

Before Avalon knew it, the gun was taken from her hand. It was Carol Herman, hefting it just like Monty had moments before.

Without a word, Monty started toward the rear of the house. Carol started toward the front, where she would push through the door, climb down the steps into the front lawn and start yelling and screaming, doing whatever she could to attract the wasps.

“Mrs. Herman?”

The old woman paused, turned back around. “I told you to call me Carol.”

Avalon opened her mouth, closed it.

Carol Herman smiled. “It’ll be okay, dear. You’re much stronger than you realize. You’ll see that soon.” The smile faded, and her eyes went glassy. “Make sure to tell my husband I love him. He already knows I do, but I’d like him to know I said it, at least one more time.”

Avalon felt a tear roll down her cheek. She wanted to say something, wanted to shake her head, wanted to rush forward and hold on to the old woman and never let her go. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair. But before Avalon could do any of those things, Carol Herman turned away and continued down the hallway. She didn’t even hesitate at the front door. She just pushed it open and stepped outside.