3.a.xi
Mr. Jones
started from his sleep. He massaged a
knot in his neck that had formed while sleeping upright against the seatbelt in
the moving vehicle.
“We’re about
three miles away,” said Tanya from the driver’s seat.
Mr. Jones
nodded and tried to shake off the grogginess and the unpleasant after images of
the dream; of the memory. He pulled his
PDA from his pocket, accessed the internet, and checked his newly purchased
stocks.
“There’s been
a two percent growth in my portfolio already,” he said. Then he clicked a few buttons, bought some
more stocks, and put the PDA away.
Tanya pulled
the car off the highway and into a scenic turn out. They were fifteen miles north of the
city. The countryside was rugged and
mountainous. A river cut between the
jagged faces and the road mimicked its path, occasionally crossing from one
side to the other via bridge.
“I never
understood why you kept your hideout way up here,” Tanya said as they got out
of the car. The steady sound of rushing
water echoed between the gorge walls.
“Simple. Why would anyone look for ‘corporate man’ out
in the countryside? They’d expect a
downtown office or something.”
“Would’ve been
more convenient,” said Tanya.
“Yeah. I was a little arrogant and over confident
about my abilities back then. I didn’t
think my necktie-cape would falter and assumed I could always fly right into
town whenever I needed.”
“Sucked
against The Crash as I recall.”
“Which you
eagerly pointed out to me back then,” Mr. Jones said. Then his eyes squinted. “It’s funny you mention him. I was just dreaming about 1987.”
“Oh god,”
Tanya said.
“Yeah I
know. That was a bad one. When he tore off–”
“No. My outfit.
Those shoulder pads.”
Mr. Jones
smiled and shook his head. “Did you ever
wear anything that wasn’t embarrassing a decade later?”
“I liked my
first outfit, back in the forties. It
had a classic, clean look to it. Or maybe I’m just being nostalgic for that era
since it was all so new for me. With so
many women entering the workforce because of the war, it was only natural that
a counterpart to the great Corporate Man manifest herself. The early sixties also had some charm to it,
fashion wise.”
They made
their way down a narrow dirt path that dropped rapidly through the rocky
terrain toward the river. It culminated
at a cluster of jagged slabs about thirty feet above the water. From their they climbed over the sharp stones
to some large boulders near the river’s edge.
Beneath an outcropping, visible only when standing a few yards away, was
the opening to an abandoned mine shaft.
Six inches of water obscured the floor of the entrance. In the spring, during heavy run off, it might
be completely submerged.
Tanya and Mr.
Jones crept into the mine shaft, forced to duck low as it was only four feet in
height at its tallest. Once inside, the
shaft rose sharply and climbed into the darkness. Tanya pulled out her cell phone and used the
illuminated display to light the way.
The corridor
eventually leveled off and then bored directly into the mountainside. Wooden support beams jutted into the path at
uneven intervals. After several hundred
feet the corridor stopped at a wooden door with wrought iron hinges and
plating. Absent, though, was anything
resembling a door knob.
Mr. Jones felt
along the wall until his fingers found a slight lip in the stone. He pushed forward and the rock
depressed. He then slid the false panel
to the side revealing a green, spherical button. The button flared with a brilliant glow as
soon as the rock panel locked into an open position.
Mr. Jones
pressed the button.
It blinked off
and on and then a loud click sounded deep within the granite followed by a
steaming hiss. The stout wooden door
fell away and a series of lights sputtered to life inside the doorway revealing
a small room within.
Tanya and Mr.
Jones went inside.
