He was off again, moving back through the woods. Skyler found it difficult to get up, pushing himself off the ground with his arms.
Jude positioned himself behind a bush, lowered his head and ran in a half crouch across the field until he reached the ditch, throwing himself into it headfirst. He didn't disappear — Skyler could see his back and the top of his head — but he was harder to spot. If they have lookouts, they'll catch us, Skyler thought as Jude looked back and waved him forward urgently.
Running was hard. He felt weak and exposed, both at the same time, and when he reached the ditch, he flung himself down and just wanted to stay there. But Jude was already ahead, crawling on his belly with the weeds on either side partially concealing him. Skyler felt a surge of adrenaline and followed, wriggling painfully, digging in with his knees and elbows. It felt as if he were pulling himself bodily up a cliff.
By the time he arrived at Jude's feet and looked up, the fence looming over him with its sharpened wire coils silhouetted against the sky, he was exhausted.
"Stay here," Jude whispered. "I'll try the gate."
And he was out of the ditch, hugging the fence until he reached the cast iron gate with a metal handhold. He tugged it, then pulled harder. Skyler could see him mouthing swear words as he tried to heave it outward with both hands, straining with his arms and shoulders. No success — the gate was solidly closed, locked. He looked over at Skyler helplessly, then darted back to the ditch.
"We're screwed," he said.
Skyler's heart sank, but he knew there was another possibility.
"Maybe not."
Skyler pointed dead ahead where the ditch dipped a bit and disappeared into a culvert at the bottom of the fence. The opening was under two feet in diameter, a tight fit, and it disappeared into blackness. But it might work.
"I hate that," said Jude. "You go first."
And Skyler did. A few feet in, his way was blocked by a metal grate. He squeezed his fingers through the grid and tugged. It gave a bit, but remained in place. He undid his belt, pulled it out and threaded one end through a hole near the periphery. He backed up and pulled, with Jude helping him, until the grate popped out, crashing to the ground. They pulled it out, and Skyler set out again.
He pulled himself forward again until he felt the concrete cylinder enclose him on all sides. He wanted to lift his head so that he could face forward, but there was no room and he kept banging it. He extended his hands ahead of him, for protection as much as anything, and squeezed himself ahead inches at a time. He felt something cold and clammy on his elbows, then his chest and belly and thighs. It seeped into his clothes. Rank water. If it rises, he thought, six inches — it's all over, I won't be able to breathe.
He halted for a minute to fight down a rising panic. Behind him, he could hear Jude, grunting and straining. He felt even more trapped with him trailing behind.
Then came the sound — high-pitched, excruciatingly loud, a ringing. It seemed to scream, almost inside the pipe itself. Skyler's heart pounded. The sound stopped, dying out in an echo. Then it started again, as loud as ever, and stopped again. Finally, it started and cut off abruptly.
Jude cursed.
"Goddammit."
Skyler heard him struggling, the noise of arms flailing about, a tiny splash.
"Goddamned phone."
Jude whispered into it. It was Tizzie.
"I know it's locked," he said. "We're underground, dammit. Why the hell did you call? The noise is deafening."
Jude was silent for a while, then spoke softly.
"Okay. And for God's sake, don't call again."
He clicked off. Then he whispered to Skyler.
"She says she thinks she knows where this ends. There's a manhole or something inside the fence. Just hope this leads there."
"She's okay?"
"Sounded okay."
His voice echoed underground.
Skyler kept going in the darkness. He felt that if he stopped, he would be unable to summon the strength to begin again. Progress was measured in inches, and they were harder and harder to come by. After ten minutes, his hand reached a pool of water. He pulled himself forward, and he entered a different kind of space. He could raise his head and see thin beams of gray light shooting down from above. The pipe led into a vertical cylinder about three feet wide and four feet high. He squeezed his way into it and stood bent over. Water covered his feet. Above was a thick manhole cover.
Either way, he realized, they had come to the end. Either they could remove the cover and get out, or they would likely perish where they were. There was no retreat: the cylinder was too narrow to turn around in and fit back inside the culvert.
Jude's head emerged from the pipe, then his shoulders. He grunted and finally extracted himself, standing up next to Skyler. They were crammed together inside the concrete tube.
"I'm here."
The voice was a bare, disembodied whisper. It came from above — Tizzie.
Skyler took his belt and poked one end through a hole in the cover.
"Put it back through the other hole. Then when I say three, lift the belt with all your might," he directed.
The tip of the belt reappeared. Quickly, he fastened the buckle, gave it a tug and he and Jude straightened their legs until they felt the manhole cover resting against their upper backs.
Softly, Skyler counted: one… two… three!
They stiffened and heaved themselves upward, straightening their backs to carry the weight in their legs. Above, Tizzie grabbed the belt in both hands, straddling the cover and lifting with extended arms.
It lifted. It moved. It hovered several inches in the air, as all three of them strained to keep it there. Then Tizzie jumped to one side and pulled the belt from an angle, as hard as she could, so that gradually the cover slid over, scraping against the ground. She stopped, pulled again, and the cover was halfway off, leaving enough room for Skyler and Jude to squeeze past. First one, then the other, leapt up, grateful to be above ground again.
Quickly, they looked around.
No one was in sight. They were midway between two squat, rectangular buildings painted in peeling army gray with black shingled roofs. They looked like barracks or maybe offices.
"Come. Over here," said Tizzie, leading them around a corner to a doorway. It was up a few wooden steps, painted gray, and set under a small eave. A faded sign on the door read: QUARTERMASTER.
They stepped inside. There were four desks, venetian blinds on the windows, filing cabinets — some with empty drawers opened — lamps and wooden chairs.
Tizzie talked breathlessly.
"I found the control box for the gate — no trouble. But when I opened it, it was empty, just some loose wires. I came in here and found the phone, so I called you."
"That much we know," said Jude.
"Sorry about that. But it's okay. No one knows. There's no switchboard. In fact, there's not really much of anything. It's bizarre — the whole place is strange. Half-deserted, things falling apart, a bunch of people walking around looking lost. No one stopped me. No one's even spoken to me. It's unreal. I had this strange thought when I was walking around — this is probably what it felt like to be in some city under siege, one of those walled cities in the Middle Ages. Except no one's doing the sieging."
"No one but us," replied Jude.
Skyler slumped into a chair.
"You don't look good," said Tizzie.
He shook her off. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."
"I hope so."
She looked at Jude.
"So what now? What's the plan?"
"We look for the records."
She shot him an exasperated look. "Any thoughts on where we look?"