State of Nature: Book Three of The Park Service Trilogy by Ryan Winfield Read Free Book Online Page B

“Let’s go see if this keycard works the elevators.”
    The bank of elevators are open and empty, and as we walk past them their shiny metal interiors display our bloated and silly reflections, like some funhouse carnival mirror I’ve only read about in stories. All those years growing up, I never had access to any other levels besides ours, and I’m tempted to use the keycard Hannah gave me to go explore them now. But then I remember the bracelet clamped onto Jimmy’s ankle, and a sense of urgency pushes me toward the elevator for Level 3.
    As the elevator descends, I debate whether or not to warn Jimmy about the decontaminant, but before I can decide what to say, we come to a stop. I cast him an apologetic look.
    “Just breathe it in,” I say.
    “Breathe what—”
    The gas cuts him short. When the elevator opens, we both spill out, clinging to one another and coughing.
    “Just as late as ever, I see,” a familiar voice says.
    I look up at Mrs. Hightower, just as tall as ever, despite how much I’ve grown. She still looks mean, too. Her eyes dart from me to Jimmy and then to the slate clutched in her hand.
    “I don’t see anything about anyone accompanying you.”
    “This is Jimmy,” I tell her. “He’s my assistant.”
    “Assistant? Well, well, aren’t you important. Fifteen years teaching here on Level 3, and I still have to grade essays myself. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s late and I’d like to get a little sleep before productive hours start again. I’ve been standing at this elevator longer than I care to mention.”
    She turns on her heel and leads us off through the cavern valley. It’s a strange feeling, being back—as if I walked here in some prior life, or maybe in a dream. The whir of cooling fans is impossible to ignore now, although I hardly heard it before. That, and the air smells odd to me—conditioned, not fresh.
    Jimmy walks along beside me, silently taking in the sights. He looks different here too—shyer, less self-assured, as if his confidence were left on the surface, above. I point him up to the sparkling benitoite high in the cavern ceiling, and we gaze at it as we walk. We are so consumed that I run right into Mrs. Hightower when she stops. She shrugs it off with an annoyed grunt, digs through her pocket, and pulls forth a key. I can’t believe we’re standing in front of my old living quarters door.
    Mrs. Hightower pulls the door open and steps aside for me to enter, but my feet are suddenly bolted to the ground. They won’t budge. Our yellow nightlight is on in the kitchen, and it washes the small apartment in sepia shadows. I can just make out the kitchen table and chairs beyond the small living room. I would have thought it would be occupied already, but then the horror of my father’s retirement—no, my father’s slaughter—and how recent it was hits me like a cold wave. He must have left this apartment for the last time just a few months ago.
    “Aubrey? You look pale. Is everything okay?”
    Her question seems to be coming from far away.
    “Is everything okay?” Mrs. Hightower repeats.
    “He’s just tired from our journey,” Jimmy says, speaking very clearly and without his usual accent.
    “Well, then,” Mrs. Hightower says, handing the key to Jimmy. “See that he gets some rest and have him in the square by the mid-production break.” Then she turns again on her heel and struts off into the silent valley, the squeak and squish of her shoes fading with her silhouette into the shadows.
    “You okay?” Jimmy asks, quietly.
    I reach out and steady myself against his shoulder.
    “I will be, I think. Just give me a minute.”
    Jimmy stands as still as a statue beside me, and it’s only because of his patient strength that I can bring myself to step across the threshold. My eyes are already adjusted to the dim light of the cavern, and I glance around at the shadowy time capsule that was my only childhood home. Everything is as it was. Well, everything