Читать книгу Ordeal by Terror - Lloyd Biggle jr. - Страница 9

CHAPTER 5

Adelle awoke to the sound and smell of bacon frying.

She glanced at her watch. Because of the continuous glow from the ceiling, she had slept with the blanket over her head. Now it was eight o’clock on Saturday morning.

They had sat up until after midnight in quiet, spasmodic talk except when Mondor and Dolan broke into one of their silly arguments. They talked quietly because they knew Madam and her goons were listening, and they talked spasmodically because all too frequently they could think of nothing to say. They were trapped, they didn’t know how to go about finding a way out, and the odds seemed very long that there wasn’t any.

Adelle sat up, swung her feet to the floor, and slipped her shoes on. She had slept in her clothing because of an uneasy feeling that anything could happen, at any moment. She wanted to be fully dressed and ready for it. She even had qualms about removing her shoes.

She took a mirror from her purse—there was none in the bathless bathroom—and ran a comb through her hair. Then she pushed aside the curtain that served as a door and looked out.

Craig Dolan sat at the diminutive table with his back to Adelle, contentedly munching bacon and fried eggs. Kevin Mondor, in shirt sleeves and minus his tie and glasses, was grimacing distastefully as he transferred strips of bacon to a plate. Mondor had assumed the role of a rational fanatic—the dedicated vegetarian who would eat meat if he had to but was grimly determined not to enjoy it. The absence of his glasses added a squint to his grimace, and his hair hung down over his eyes and partially screened them from the spattering bacon. With wrinkled clothing and a face flushed and perspiring from heat and frustration, he bore no resemblance to the well-turned-out, calmly deliberative mathematician she had known. He looked like an overdressed vagrant with a hangover.

The hangover could have been genuine. Dolan had enticed him into consuming several cans of beer the night before, and Mondor wasn’t accustomed to alcohol in any form.

He looked up and saw Adelle. “The next time I go expeditioning with a female,” he announced, “she’ll be the domestic type.”

Dolan seemed oblivious to the turmoil surrounding Mondor’s cooking. He gave Adelle a nod and continued to eat. “How are you on survival techniques?” he asked, speaking over his shoulder. “Like getting the cork out of a wine bottle without a corkscrew, and broiling steaks over a metal wastebasket, and breaking into bottles and cans without an opener.”

“I’d flunk,” Adelle said. “My survival has never depended on things like that.”

“Even an undomestic female ought to have a few practical survival skills. You’ve led a sheltered life.”

“It’s been unsheltered enough to keep me from having money to buy steaks for broiling over wastebaskets,” Adelle said.

“Point,” Dolan conceded. “What time is it?”

“A little after eight. It seems odd that an expert steak broiler and master of survival techniques has to keep asking what time it is.”

“I got my expertise broiling other people’s steaks,” Dolan said. “I learned to open cans and bottles because any time I had the price of a watch, I bought beer instead.”

“You couldn’t have bought much beer for the price of this watch. It was the simplest, cheapest one I could find. It’s hand-wound and non-digital, with no calendar, no calculator, and no phases of the moon. It doesn’t even have a second hand.”

“Its price would have bought some beer,” Dolan said. “And when there’s beer, who cares what time it is?”

Adelle paid her morning visit to the bathless bathroom, where she took time to sponge off her face and hands with cold water. There was no hot water faucet. Neither was there one in the kitchen. They had to heat water on the stove for their ablutions as well as for coffee and for doing the dishes, and she hesitated to disrupt Mondor’s cooking just to get hot water to splash her face and hands with.

When she rejoined the men, Mondor had her breakfast waiting. She looked at it with dismay. The bacon lay rigidly in charred strips, and the three eggs were scorched, rubbery circles.

“I told you you’d regret it,” Mondor said sourly.

Adelle sat down resignedly and asked, “Did you two hear anything during the night?”

Mondor turned with the package of bacon in his hand. Dolan paused with fork halfway to his mouth. “What was there to hear?” Dolan demanded.

“A kind of thud. Not very loud. I wasn’t wide awake until after I heard it. Then I listened, but I didn’t hear it again.”

Dolan’s fork moved. Mondor returned his attention to the stove.

“No,” Dolan said, chewing thoughtfully. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Adelle went to the stove for the pan of hot water, filled her cup, and added instant coffee. She sat down again and stirred it absently, thinking about her planned trip to Greenfield Village. She would have been starting just about now. Instead—

She looked about her at the narrow kitchen, at the bearded Dolan still contentedly eating, at the disarrayed and disgusted Mondor awkwardly separating strips of bacon and transferring them to a frying pan. The scene was so totally unreal that she wondered if she should pinch herself.

Dolan laid down his fork and carefully cleaned his beard at the corners of his mouth with a paper towel. “How would you characterize that thud?” he asked. “Metallic, or just thudish?”

Adelle reflected. “Thudish. But I was at least half asleep, so I may not be a reliable witness.”

“I don’t suppose it would be fraught with significance either way. We know we’re not alone down here. When we’ve finished eating, we’ll consider what we’re going to do.”

An hour later they were still seated at the kitchen table. Mondor had washed the breakfast dishes except for their coffee cups and heated another pan of water for coffee. He also had donned his coat, necktie, and glasses and tidied his appearance into a semblance of normality. They had sipped coffee and talked, but none of them had been able to suggest anything that seemed worth doing.

Dolan, tilted back in his chair and staring with frustration at the glowing ceiling, needed only folded hands to resemble an uncouth saint praying for divine intervention. “Are you looking to heaven for help?” Adelle asked. Mockingly she raised her own eyes and lifted her hands supplicantly. Then, continuing to gaze upward, she remarked, “We came down through the ceiling. Why don’t we leave the same way?”

The front legs of Dolan’s chair returned to the floor with a crash. He said resignedly, “Who could believe the mental storms that churn and fulminate behind that quiet countenance? If we give her a couple more minutes, she’ll tell us how to jump through the ceiling.”

“Not jump,” Adelle said. “Stand on something.”

“Mondor could stand on me, I suppose. Or you could. But it’s a dozen feet, at least, and even if we could reach the ceiling that way—

“We could stand a bed on end,” Adelle said.

“So we could. That would be better than using my shoulders. Higher, too. Let’s try it.”

They had to take one of the beds apart in order to move it out of a cramped bedroom. They pushed the kitchen table aside so they could reassemble it and tilt it on end. Then they regarded it with skepticism.

“If you two will keep it from tipping, I’ll give it a try,” Dolan said.

“Better let me,” Adelle said. “I’m lightest.”

“But I’m tallest. If it works, all three of us will have to use it. By the way—” He turned and scrutinized her. “You certainly dressed appropriately for this adventure. How’d you happen to wear trousers on the one day you needed them? One might almost think you were expecting this.”

Adelle snapped her fingers. “Madam!”

“What about Madam?”

“All day yesterday she kept making comments about my pants suit. When I walked in yesterday morning, her jaw dropped so far I thought she was going to lose her lower plate. ‘They look nice, Darlink. Such a clever thing to wear.’ I thought it was because she’d never seen a pants suit before.”

“Probably she wondered if you suspected something,” Dolan said. “You can have it out with her the next time you meet.”

“I’ll have more than that out with her,” Adelle promised.

“She certainly didn’t give me cause for suspicion,” Dolan said. “A few minutes before I hit the chute, I was joking with her. I told her we should include sections on humor in the books, giving examples of the kind of jokes the natives of each country would appreciate. I mean, if businessmen want to sell things in ridiculous places, there’s nothing like a good joke for loosening up a customer. She said she thought the businessmen were funny enough already.” He asked Mondor, “Did you notice anything peculiar?”

“She put on an act for me about how excited she was to be getting a new computer. Said it’d been on order for two months. Whatever else she is, she’s certainly a glib liar. Let’s get on with this.”

Mondor and Adelle stood on opposite sides of the bed with one foot on the headboard, which was on the floor; one hand raised to support the footboard; the other hand and a knee against one of the side rails. Dolan began to pull himself up. The side rails suddenly came loose, and the whole structure collapsed as they jumped clear.

“Stand on a chair,” Adelle suggested. “You won’t have to climb so far.”

“Point,” Dolan agreed. He moved a chair while they were reassembling the bed, and a moment later he was standing upright with his head just below the ceiling. He raised a plastic panel and slid it aside. The end of a fluorescent light fixture became visible, and, just above it, a ceiling painted with a glossy white paint.

“Brace yourselves,” Dolan warned them. “I’m going to jump higher and try to get a glimpse above the panels.”

He landed lightly, but they had to struggle to keep the bed upright. He slipped the panel back into place and eased himself down to the chair. “It’s a plywood ceiling,” he said as he hopped to the floor. “It’s nailed about every sixteen inches, which means there are joists or furring strips above it. The light fixtures are fastened to the plywood, and the panels are suspended about six inches below it. There’ll be an air space, maybe a small one, between the wood ceiling and the basement floor above. To get out of here, we’d have to hack through wood and then cement. There must be a better way.”

“If we had tools, we might have a go at it,” Mondor said. “We’ve certainly got nothing else to do and nothing to lose.”

Dolan nodded. “A sledge hammer would tear things up a bit, but we haven’t got one. Anyway, the racket would attract the goons.”

“So much for my bright idea,” Adelle said.

“You’re bright idea was admirable,” Dolan said. “The reason it doesn’t get us anywhere is because we’re using it in the wrong place. We should put the bed under one of the openings we fell through, but how would we go about finding it?”

“Each of us landed in or near one of those silly test rooms,” Mondor said. “Maybe it was the same room. That’s where we should look.”

They stood gazing uncertainly at the high ceiling. Adelle wondered whether they would be able to reach a trap and climb out even if they could find one.

“We’ve certainly go nothing else to do and nothing to lose,” Mondor said finally. “That sounds familiar. Did you just say it or did I?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dolan said. “A banality doesn’t become wisdom through repetition, but in this case you’re right. We’ve nothing else to do and nothing to lose. The bed will be easier to carry if we take it apart.”

They quickly disassembled it and divided up the pieces. Dolan, carrying the headboard, led the way. Adelle followed with the footboard, and Mondor trailed after them, awkwardly maneuvering the two side rails. They filed into the long alley by which all three of them had arrived at the kitchen, and there they halted. The alley ended a few feet away.

“The bastards have changed it!” Dolan exclaimed.

“Calling those bastards bastards is an insult to illegitimate children everywhere,” Mondor said sourly.

Dolan bowed an acknowledgement. “You’re right. I should be able to do better than that. The putrid vermin have changed the maze.”

Mondor said matter-of-factly, “We should have expected it. Scientists often change mazes to see how their subjects will react.”

“I wonder if that’s what I heard during the night,” Adelle said.

“Probably,” Mondor said. “What do we do now?”

Dolan leaned on the headboard and fingered his beard thoughtfully. “I came from that way,” he said, pointing. “The opening leads into a short alley, and there’s another coming in from the right—left, going the other way—just before it dead-ends. Mondor?”

Mondor pointed at the new section of wall that now closed off the alley. “My route is blocked, and it’d be silly to try to find a way around it.”

“I came the same way Craig did,” Adelle said, “but I don’t remember any opening on the left, which would have been my right. The only ones I saw were on my left, and I took them.”

“We still have two possibilities,” Dolan said. “Let’s have a look.”

Carrying the disassembled bed, they moved along the alley and turned right; but the alley they now found themselves in was not the short section both Adelle and Dolan remembered. It seemed to stretch interminably, and they found no side openings at all as they walked along it.

“The slimy blackguards have changed this, too,” Dolan observed.

Mondor exclaimed suddenly, “Let’s get back to the kitchen!”

He turned and ran. Dolan and Adelle exchanged perplexed glances and then followed him. The three of them, still carrying the bed parts, burst through the opening that led to the alley by the kitchen—but there was no kitchen. The alley dead-ended a few feet ahead of them.

“Cut off!” Mondor said disgustedly. “They can change the maze any time they feel like it and do it quickly. The sections probably come out of the floor like the door on the test room.”

Dolan leaned on the headboard and glared at the new wall. “The foul cullions! No, that isn’t adequate. Words fail me.”

“Now I understand why I got lost in the maze yesterday,” Adelle said. “When I started back, they’d changed everything around. I thought I was just being stupid.”

“They did the same to us,” Mondor said. “Those black strips on the floor are located between grooves in the walls. They must be tops of partitions. They can be raised to close off an alley or lowered to extend one.”

“They’re playing with us,” Dolan growled, his face flushed with anger. “They’ve cut us off from food and water, and they can starve us, or make us die of thirst, just for the fun of it. Or they can sit back and enjoy watching us frantically wander about trying to find our way back to the kitchen while they keep changing the maze all around us.”

“Something like that,” Mondor agreed. “We should have expected it.”

Dolan was pounding soundlessly on the headboard with a clenched fist. “This isn’t a psychological experiment. It’s a back-alley exercise in sadism. It’s on the same level with tying cans to a dog’s tail or setting fire to a cat.”

“So what are we going to do?” Adelle asked. “Sit down and wait for fate to intervene? Or go along with the game and hope somehow to outwit them? And if we go along with the game, do we continue to carry this stupid bed?”

“Sitting down and waiting to rot doesn’t appeal to me,” Mondor said.

Dolan was still pounding on the headboard. “I’m not letting anyone play games with me if I can help it. We had an idea for finding a way out of this place, so what are we waiting for? They’ve changed the maze, but we still may be able to find one of the test rooms.”

“We’re certain to find a test room sooner or later,” Mondor said. “I’ll give you odds they’re not through testing us. And it isn’t as though we were trying to climb Mount Everest. We’re just walking around in someone’s screwy basement, and what’s a bed, more or less?”

He picked up the rails and started off. Dolan grimly hoisted the headboard onto his shoulders and followed.

Adelle called after them, “Just a moment. We dashed out of the kitchen without considering what we were doing, and look at the mess we’re in. Let’s think this over before we make any more dashes.”

“The female,” Dolan said to Mondor, “has the weird notion we should use our brains before the fact instead of afterward.”

They piled the bed parts against one wall and sat down on the floor. Adelle leaned back and closed her eyes, but she found it impossible to think. She had just glimpsed the frightening specter of death from hunger and thirst in the basement of a building where they’d been working for weeks, and she found it incredible. She had slid down a chute and left reality behind.

She said slowly, “The notion that Madam and her goons might eventually be stricken with compassion for us is silly.”

“Not silly,” Mondor said. “Idiotic.”

After a long moment of silence, Adelle got to her feet. “All right,” she said determinedly. “They will or they won’t. If they will, they’ll know where to find us. If they won’t, our sitting in a corner and looking miserable isn’t likely to change their minds. We might as well go down fighting. I vote for exploring the maze, and carrying the stupid bed, and looking for traps in the ceiling even though we know they’d stop us if we tried to use one. And—if there’s any possible way to do it—I vote for vandalizing this place so it’ll have to be rebuilt before they can test any more victims.”

Dolan was nodding approvingly. “Right on. We’ll smash the place and go down fighting. I only wish we had someone or something down here to fight.”

“Before we’re finished,” Mondor said, “there may be both.”