Tenth Man

by Tamara Sheehan

Chapter 22

[Tenth Man has been withdrawn at the author’s request.]

The ladder rang, a dull, booming sound that was quickly swallowed up by the rushing sounds of water. Howie reached up in the darkness, found a door above. It was encrusted by rust and cobwebs.

Saul squinted up at him, his flashlight beam illuminated Howie’s slim fingers. He wrapped one leg over the topmost rail of the ladder, reached into darkness and grunted, twisting until the veins stood out in his neck. The metal twisted, the door parted with a shriek.

He grunted, shoved the door upward and shinnied out of sight. They could hear him moving above, saw the light bobbing across the mouth of the entrance. At last his hand came down.

“Clear. Come on up.”

They followed Howie up the ladder, found themselves in a small, white-walled room of cinder brick. Pipes rattled and dripped condensation overhead. The paint on the concrete floor was pitted and stained from moisture.

Saul looked around him. A large, grey box hummed before the farthest wall, pipes spread out from it like tentacles.

“Come on.” Howie touched his shoulder and guided him around. They went single file and wordless down the corridor, to a grey-painted metal door.

“Hold up.” Howie held up his map. “Assembly line and warehouse outside this room. Probably have security cameras.”

“It’s a long weekend.” Saul said, shaking his head. “Would anyone be watching them?”

“I don’t want to get on film.”

“You worry too much,” Saul told him, reaching for the door handle.

Howie caught his arm. “I didn’t have to change my name after the last time we did this.”

Saul kissed his teeth. “Touché,” he said after a moment. “Where then?”

Howie squinted at the map. “There.” He pointed. “A shaft that leads up to the building superhighway.” He grinned. “An elevator.” The shaft was a single line in black on the drawing, intersecting the elevator at a forty-five degree angle, like a broken branch hanging from a tree.

“How big is it in there?”

“Big enough for me, tight on you. It’ll get hot fast and with three of us... we might breathe up all the air. We’ll have to be quick.”

Saul heard himself swallow. “I might just take the stairs if that’s OK.”

“Sorry man, we’re doing this my way.” Howie glanced over his shoulder at Toven. “How you holding up?”

Toven shrugged. “Just fine.”

“We’re going to go through some tight spaces. Keep an eye on Saul, eh?” he patted Saul’s arm. “I don’t want him freaking out,” he pointed to a vent almost directly above him, set into the cinder brick, “when we’re in there.”

Saul’s stomach fell. “You’re shitting me. In there?” He could hear his breath quickening. “No way, no... no way.”

“Saul, it’s only a hundred feet.”

“And then it’s an elevator shaft and god knows how far that goes.”

“Saul-”

“No, I don’t care.” His mouth was dry. He licked his lips. “You go. I’ll wait here.”

“I don’t want to get split up.” Howie was at once angry and plaintive.

“I’ll be right here.” Saul told him calmly. “Don’t try to make me go, Howie. You’ll never get me through that rat hole.”

Howie glared at him, then shook off his backpack and pulled his folding knife out. He flicked out the simple screwdriver attachment. “Fine. You can sit with the luggage. Toven, let’s go.”

Howie set to work in angry silence. He let the bolts fall from the vent, pulled aside the cover and set it against the wall.

“Don’t go wandering off,” he told Saul, then, grunting, kicking off the wall, he heaved his body up into the vent. Toven cast a quick look over his shoulder at Saul and then he, too, clambered up and squeezed through the hole in the wall. Saul shivered, watching as the building devoured them.

He slid down the wall and pulled his arms around him. He could follow Howie’s progress, reaching out to hear the thoughts of his friend.

Quickly, carefully... he was moving like a rat through the wall, Toven crawling along behind. Saul felt Howie’s particular awareness as all his senses delivered information to his brain. He smelled the insulation and the dust, heard the whirring of pipes, the ding of a summoned elevator. He tasted the dry sourness of his mouth, heard Toven’s body scraping along the metal lining of the vent. Utterly calm, Howie climbed and pulled himself out on the other side of the vent. Saul breathed out in relief.

...missed you...

Another thought touched him, his eyes snapped open. He sought after it, chasing the resonance like a hound tracking blood.

Nick...

He lurched to his feet. Something was calling him, something that knew his old name. Nicky, look at you. You’ve grown.

A spasm of giddiness and terror. His hands fluttered to his chest. “Dad?” he breathed, the sound lost under the constant humming of the machine. He reached out after his dad, chasing the memory of the thought even as evaporation destroyed it. Dad where are you?

Nothing, silence. It had been so close! Almost in his ear, almost at his shoulder. A sound came out of his mouth, harsh and full of frustration. Why am I not strong enough? Why am I never strong enough? He grabbed his head, tugged at his hair with both hands, wrenching, pummeling himself in despair. Where are you dad? Where the hell are you?

Nick! A wash of vicarious shock on the other side of the door. Saul lurched to his feet, suddenly heedless of security cameras, of corporation guards. He threw open the door and stepped out into the darkness beyond.

It was a vast, dark expanse. Distant floodlights lit the warehouse sides, illuminated the sharp angles of a silent assembly line, shrouded machinery, the soft folds of the cloth covers.

His footsteps echoed in the vast emptiness. The red eyes of security cameras winked from high up in the darkness.

Saul looked around him. There was the platform where he had stood during the plant tour in school, he was standing now where his father had stood then. He rubbed his forehead, his eyes, the memory so vivid it robbed him of his breath.

If you’d known you only had a few days left... he let the thought go unfinished, stared around him for a sign. What am I doing here? I thought I heard...?

Nick, look at you. So grown up.

The voice was almost in his ear. He jumped and looked around him, staring strait at the grey-draped form of a man leaning against the galvanized metal wall. He knew the slouching stance, arms crossed over the distended stomach. He started toward the shape at a run. Dad, I’m here, I’m here!

He made no effort to hide or silence his thumping feet, jumping over a low place in the assembly system, scooting over rubber tracking on his rump. He leapt to the shape and pulled away the shroud.

It was a golem that stood with legs crossed and chin drooping, its arms folded across the red-clay chest. Saul stepped back, still holding the sheet, and stared. It was as if something was tumbling away from him, something precious was being lost.

Dad?

The golem raised its head. Saul. It said.

Saul’s hands went to his mouth. He heard sounds filling up the great emptiness around him, distant and hollow and unreal. Something was coming toward him, a hissing, thumping. A noise that wouldn’t stop, was frightening him. Sound was pounding in his ears. He realized his own stupidity, had the sense of falling. If the noise would stop, just stop, he would be able to think. He reached out and clutched the golem’s shoulder to steady himself.

The old man was no wizard, had never been. He couldn’t have so much as strung a complete sentence together before uttering it. He had been a simple man. An assembly line worker, proud of and intimidated by his bookish son’s abilities.

Saul stared around him, gaping, bewildered. Golems were coming from the darkness, from unseen crates and boxes stacked up around him. Finished and unfinished, they reached out for him.

Reached up and grabbed him...

He stared around him until he saw the tall, black shape of a man on the platform. Mbeki. Crushed to death...

Saul uttered a scream that contained all his despair, his anger and his impotence. “What did you do to him?”

Mbeki’s voice was cold and clear. “I made him useful.”

Proceed to chapter 23...