Level Zero by Dan McDowell (debian ebook reader .txt) 📗

Great Depression? It was quite a production back in the 20s.”

Livewire nodded.

What’s this guy trying to get at? Time’s a-wastin’.

“Anyhow,” Chris said. “There was a substantial amount of work completed on it before the city scrapped it and left it behind.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard something about that before. I didn’t know that it was still… a ‘thing.’ I assumed the city filled it in with dirt after the… the…”

Chris shook his head, fidgeting with the Bic on his desk.

“That seems to be what everyone recalls. It’s still there. I want to contract you to do some more work for me. This time we’re going to take it a step further — speakers, microphones, surveillance cameras, the works, all throughout the tunnel. Let’s make it high tech. Money is no object, buddy. However far a half-million will take me. I’ve got access to a trust fund that runs pretty deep, but I may lose that soon so we need to move quickly. There are two miles of tunnel. I know it’s going to be a costly and time-consuming project. I assume you’ll need to quit your job and come to work for me if you elect to move forward with this. Are you up for that? I imagine it’ll take you some time.”

Livewire crossed his arms, taking a breath before replying, “Why are you doing this? What’s the catch? I’m not gettin’ it.”

Wilkerson picked up the tie-dye stress relief ball from his desk and tossed it to him.

“I’m doing it because I can. That’s all you need to know. No catch. You’ll need to live there while you work, though. Don’t worry. I’ve got a small apartment setup in the basement that leads in there. You can stay put. Please be aware, I consider this a top-secret operation. No one else needs to know what you’re working on. Don’t give your bosses a reason for quitting. Just call up the supply list, and I’ll send whatever you need down to you so you can work your way through with minimal disruption. While you’re at it, map it out, too. Flag it the way you would a corporate enterprise, would you? It’s dark in there, so you’ll want to make sure you’re prepared for that. I have electricity and water running there already from sometime in the tunnel’s original design. It’s all tied into the Creepy Nights utilities.”

Livewire stared at Chris a moment before speaking again, ”What the heck you plannin’? You buildin’ a haunted house or what? This sounds like a much larger project than anybody needs. Can I bring my crew in?”

Wilkerson shook his head. “There are endless opportunities for it. And no… No one else can help on this one. It’s a one-man show. How does twenty an hour sound?”

Holy Moses! Twenty?

He stood up and reached out to shake Wilkerson’s hand. “Sounds great. I’ll take it.”

“Good. Can you start next week?”

A rush of nausea hit Livewire.

Not ready to feel this way again. Please, not right now.

The room caved in around him as Chris’s speech came to a momentary halt. Despite never going inside, his strange bond with the tunnel left his mind jumbled.

The dust and ash clouded his eyes as he heard other men screaming in their torment.

“Why’d you do that? We’re all gonna die.”

How could this be possible? I was born in ‘52. No… wait, 1902. No, that’s when Grandad was born. He worked these tunnels. Ugh… I don’t know anymore. Am I losing it? I’m thirty-one. I knew I shouldn’t have messed around with that psychic medium back in ‘78. Now I’m payin’ my friggin’ penance. That’s got to be it.

Chris waved at him. “Livewire, are you there? Hello? Let’s get you some sunshine. Can I get you something to drink?”

Wrong question for a drunk... A drink. Oh, yes, a stiff drink. That would be nice. I hate these feelings. I hate ‘em.

Only in his imagination did he answer this way. He articulated self-controlled, as his mind remained plagued by thoughts of his addiction. “No. I’ll be fine. Thanks for the job. Let me get some personal affairs in order and turn in my notice. Then, I can start estimating the supplies and tools needed to make it happen. You’ve got to clue me in soon, though. I’m intrigued.”

Chris grinned. “All in due time. All in due time. I stock the basement refrigerator with Flitz beer. Help yourself.”

Gotta stay on the wagon… gotta stay on the wagon… Livewire thought. His mind had reset.

“Thanks. See you in a couple of days.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

After a brief wait in the Riverton Behavioral Therapy Center’s lobby, TODD ADAMS stared into Julie’s eyes, hoping she could help him.

I’m not going to write her off. I have to change for the better if I’m going to get it together, he thought.

His cynicism toward therapy lessened as his medication mellowed him out. Coping with life after the accident and losing Lorrie was not an option. It was a necessity. Todd’s mind checked out a moment while Julie chattered.

Man… Where was my head at?

Her emerald eyes and sandy-colored hair kept his attention. Even her jewelry matched perfect to his liking.

She’s a decade too old and two degrees too smart. Forget it. It’s some kind of conflict of interest.

“Therapy is not something for the faint of heart. It took some real guts to get you in here, didn’t it?”

Todd nodded. “Yes, that’s a fair assessment. I don’t think I can ever find normalcy again. My inner peace. You know what I mean?”

“Manic depression is not something you can fix with only pills. It takes a lot more than that. Self-discipline, self-care, and a lot of therapy.”

Here we go. I didn’t show up to get lectured.

“You don’t get it,” he said. “These feelings aren’t always mine.”

Julie smiled, taking some notes in a leather-bound notebook. “Todd, it’s easy to separate ourselves from the part we hate the most. You can’t do that, though. See through the eyes of ‘Manic’ Todd. The Todd on the airplane that