Chapter 29 #2
Even though Hugh lightly tugged on her hand, urging her to keep moving, Gwen didn’t budge. Mostly because she and the others needed to rest for a minute, but also because she was fascinated.
“Even without more trials to transcribe, scanning and indexing after-death records for all of history is an endless damn job, Renee.” The rapid tap-tap of typing. “They need to hire some extra help so we can complete the digitization project and computerized database on schedule.”
Renee made a noise of agreement. “I’m surprised they’ve been so cheap about the whole process. After we unionized back in the nineties and Death and the Fates started their group therapy sessions, they mostly stopped being such a pain in our collective-action asses.”
A considering hum. “That’s when they stopped sending misbehaving employees to the Cubicle Farm of Contrition, right?”
Cubicle Farm of Contrition? Gwen thought back to the nineties-tastic, not-so-motivational posters she’d spotted in last night’s quarters and drew what she considered to be a relatively safe conclusion.
This time, Hugh’s tug on her hand and firm squeeze of her fingers demanded her full attention.
Slowly and quietly, he mouthed, and she nodded.
Hand in hand, they slipped past the spot where the door rested lightly against its jamb.
When the other oracles followed suit, there were no sirens or startled shouts.
They hadn’t been spotted, thank the gods and goddesses.
Down the next hall, another door was cracked slightly wider, and the muffled, droning tones of an informational video drifted from somewhere inside.
Once more, the entire group halted as Hugh and Gwen evaluated the situation.
“ ‘Spiritborne Pathogens’ again?” someone groaned. “We’ve seen this HR video a million times already. And since it’s on freaking VHS, the resolution is, like, twelve pixels.”
“Stop bitching, Yun. It’s basically paid naptime,” his coworker responded. “Besides, if you ever steal my yogurt from the communal fridge again, the rest of us need to know how to safely deal with your disembodied spirit after I murder you.”
Even though the pomander had eased the worst of her hunger, Gwen perked up at the mention of a possible snack. For herself, sure, but especially for the captives who hadn’t been able to force down protein bars at every meal.
She peeked through the narrow gap between the room’s door and its frame. A small anteroom appeared empty, while the light flickering from a dark, connected inner space indicated that the HR video was being played there.
Just inside the anteroom, only two steps from the cracked door…oh, goodness. There was a half-size refrigerator, humming faintly.
In a thread of sound, she whispered into Hugh’s ear. “Do you think we could…”
The tilt of her head indicated the mini-fridge.
Brow furrowed, he swept a glance over the sagging, fatigued gaggle of waiting oracles, then gave her a sharp nod. Let me, he mouthed, and she certainly wasn’t going to argue.
In a remarkably hot display of discreet grace, Hugh managed to slip inside the half-open door, crouch down beside the refrigerator, and ease it open silently. The employees continued to loudly mock their video, evidently unaware he was there.
He passed the booty through the crack in the door, and Gwen handed each item down the line.
Water and soda bottles. Various yogurts, some labeled with sticky notes reading TAMIKA’S YOGURT—STEAL IT AND DIE, YUN!
!! A grocery-store Cobb salad. Best of all: several sandwiches, including a foot-long, overstuffed roast beef and cheddar masterpiece.
Gwen kept half of that one for herself, because yum.
As soon as Hugh finished pillaging the refrigerator, he slipped back through the door.
A jerk of his head urged everyone to continue down the hall.
At the next branch in the corridor, he and Gwen paused to confer in near-soundless whispers over which way to head while the other oracles quietly but hastily demolished the food and drinks they’d been given and carefully deposited their trash in a nearby bin.
After turning left, the group crept down several more lengthy corridors, only to reach another intersection.
Where, to Gwen’s utter horror, a three-headed, slavering dog was waiting for them, all six ears tensed and flattened as three pairs of furious red eyes stared them down.
Tail stiff and pointed upward, hackles raised, the creature stood ominously still.
Oh, fuck.
A three-headed dog tore you apart during an escape attempt, Matilda had said, cringing. It was…messy.
The dog’s flanks vibrated with a deep, ominous growl in triplicate, its weight shifted onto its front legs, and Gwen gasped out a hasty “Run!” as Hugh yanked her back the way they’d come.
The oracles’ footsteps slapped against the tile while they skidded down the hall, all their efforts at clandestinity now abandoned.
The dog bounded after them, three sets of front teeth bared.
Saliva streamed behind the canine, whipped backward by the speed of its chase as it drew closer and closer to the hindmost members of the panicked party.
I.e., Gwen and Hugh. Because she was built for comfort, not speed, and she was slowing her boyfriend down as they careened around one corner, then another.
The dog lunged for her leg, its teeth catching and ripping her pajama pants.
As Hugh tried and failed to stop Gwen from stumbling, she fell heavily to one knee, sliding along the slick floor with the momentum of her run.
The canine’s ruby eyes glowed with triumph as it braced itself for the fatal leap.
When Gwen cringed away, foil crinkled in her hand. The wrapped sandwich from the staff refrigerator, which Hugh had stolen and she’d torn in half.
The roast beef sandwich.
She immediately flung it at the dog, and the sandwich whacked the creature’s left snout before falling to the floor and scattering into various pieces. The startled dog paused and directed two of its heads downward to inspect the offering.
Frozen, she watched the middle head sniff the lunch meat suspiciously.
“Gwen,” Hugh entreated furiously, and hauled her to her feet again. “Come on!”
As the two of them backtracked down the hall at a dead sprint, Gwen spared a single glance behind her.
Saw the three-headed creature accept the bribe and wolf down a first mouthful, only to sneeze at the horseradish.
Then she skidded around a corner, yanked along by Hugh, and lost sight of the happily feasting canine.
They were following Matilda now, who led the pack with sure-footed, determined grace. They rounded another unfamiliar corner. Another. Another.
“I saw this room in a vision,” Corey panted out, then stopped and lashed out an arm to grab hold of a seemingly random door handle. The silver plaque on the door read GDD-4, whatever that meant, and no noise came from within the room. “Maybe.”
It wasn’t as if they had anything better to go on.
“Do it.” Gwen waved a frantic arm, because the dog might resume the chase at any moment, and if its pursuit had tripped some sort of internal alarm, they’d need a hiding spot.
And no matter what, they couldn’t go much farther without time and a safe space to regroup and rest. “Open the door if it’s unlocked. ”
Corey heaved open the heavy barrier, and the group surged inside the pitch-black room.
Hugh closed the door behind them swiftly, then fumbled for the lights and flipped them on.
As overhead fluorescent bulbs flickered to life, he secured the dead bolt, then grabbed the nearest desk chair to wedge beneath the door handle.
Gwen helped him maneuver the chair into place, then turned to figure out where exactly they’d taken shelter. Only to see…
Holy shit.
Several desks with modern-looking computers were positioned on one side of the entrance, and the other side featured a kitchenette with a full-size refrigerator, microwave, coffee maker, and sink.
But beyond that entry, the vast majority of the enormous room was taken up by two long lines of closed half-height doors separated by a narrow, brightly lit central aisle.
Numbered plaques indicated upper and lower berths, and each door had a shiny push button by its side and a nameplate in its center.
Silver ladder rungs and hold bars had been installed to assist entry into the upper berths. There were no visible security cameras.
The space looked like the interior of a Japanese capsule hotel Gwen had once seen in a YouTube video. Did Realm Below employees sleep down here? Or—
GDD-4. Gwen halted in place, considering what she knew. What she’d seen.
If the GD stood for Guardian Demon, then that next D might be for Dormitory. And the four—well, who knew how many demons had been given this assignment for their afterlife?
She released Hugh’s hand and darted down that central aisle, scanning the nameplates. Only a dozen doors in, she stopped in front of the one she’d half hoped, half dreaded to spot. Then dithered in place, unsure whether she should talk to Hugh, give him context, before showing him what she’d found.
Had Dottie revealed the source of her information about the Realm Below? Or had she simply passed along the report without unnecessarily endangering her guardian demon’s assignment?
The other oracles were watching Gwen with furrowed brows. Hugh had followed her down the aisle and stood a couple steps away.
“Gwen?” He sounded confused. “What are you—are you okay?”
Silently, she stepped aside. Let him see the name on the door of the lower berth.
Eloise “Magpie” Blacke, the silver plaque read. Guardian Demon 7489.