The girls did as asked, and after a moment Zoe heard the dead bolt crank open. Then she was following Lucy and Summer down a flight of stairs. The narrow stairwell opened up to a large basement apartment. Three times the size of the room upstairs, the apartment had an open floor plan, cement walls, and a low ceiling that nearly brushed Zoe’s head. There were zero windows or overhead lighting.
Summer placed the shotgun on the kitchen island that also served as a table, then reached for an off-white power strip on the floor at the island’s base. She flicked the red switch, and a handful of lamps, all shapes and sizes, sprang to life, illuminating the apartment.
She had an eccentric collection of things, from the small kitchen area in the left corner to the single bed, nightstand, and dresser in the far right corner. Rugs of different shapes, textures, and colors were scattered between them. Zoe noted two couches and several plush chairs, as well as what appeared to be the missing dining chairs from the table upstairs. There were items that didn’t make sense in the space, like a china cabinet with nothing in it, a metal bed frame leaning upright against a wall, and a stackable washer and dryer standing next to one of the couches in the middle of the room.
A decades-old TV and VCR sat on the floor in front of a large, worn chair, but Zoe saw no computer, no tablets, no laptop, no other electronic devices. The entire place was maddening, like the cellar of a kidnapper. She could feel fear gathering in her chest.
She looked at Summer, who was nervously glancing around her home. Dirty dishes, unkempt bed, clothes strung here and there.
Summer cut her eyes shyly at Zoe and cleared her throat. “Sorry for the mess,” she said, leaning against the island. “I don’t really have guests.”
“You live here?” Lucy asked.
Summer’s absence of an answer was an answer.
“Why?”
“It’s off the grid,” Summer began. “Safe, secure, and people don’t know I’m here.”
“But Olivia knew you were here,” Lucy continued.
“She tracked me down about six months ago. We hadn’t spoken in over fifteen years, so I knew if she was trying to reach me it must be important.”
“Why hadn’t you talked in so long?”
Summer’s eyes glazed over as if her mind had momentarily gone somewhere else. She stared there for a beat, then shook her head and pushed off of the island. “It doesn’t matter. That isn’t why you’re here.”
“You know who I am?” Lucy asked.
“No.”
Zoe could feel Lucy’s hope tarnish.
“What do you know?” Zoe asked.
“I know I warned Ollie about going to work for those people. Of course she didn’t listen. She and Robin always thought I was paranoid, and now where is she?” Summer shook her head.
“Work for who?” Zoe pressed.
“The government! The powers that be. The ones fixated on disguising their mind control with promises of opportunity and freedom. When really, freedom is a lie. They control us all, like sheep, telling us what to do and when to do it. Spying on us through little devices that fit into our pockets that they convinced us to buy. All part of a ruse to keep us dumbed down to what is really happening.”
“What does that have to do with Lucy?”
“Everything, child! Ollie was just like the rest, lured by their shiny trinkets. ‘You can change the world, you can make it safer, brighter, better.’ But it’s all about power and control. Fear is the heartbeat of this country! And she was caught right in the center of it.”
Zoe could feel her tolerance for this nonsense teetering. She knew Summer’s type, the anti-government radicals who thought the whole system should burn down. Zoe wasn’t necessarily signing up to join the charge of red, white, and blue, but this was over the top.
“I don’t understand,” Lucy said.
Summer started across the room. “I’ll show you,” she said, moving toward the far wall where, for the first time, Zoe noticed there was a door. The same kind of keypad that secured the door at the top of the stairs occupied this one as well. After a moment the lock churned as it opened, and Summer pulled the door ajar. “Come on.”
Warning bells rang in Zoe’s brain. What was the likelihood that if they went in that room they would never come back out? But Lucy was already moving, and they were way beyond turning back now.
Zoe stepped through the open door and found herself in a long, dimly lit hallway. She glanced back at Summer, who pushed past her and Lucy. The girls followed, traveling the pathway until they reached another keypad-secured door. Another moment of anticipated waiting, and then they were through, up a flight of matching iron steps and into what Zoe knew immediately was the warehouse they’d seen from outside.
It was easily double the size of the basement apartment, made of the same dull, sad concrete. They moved deeper into the windowless space, Zoe taking in the strange scene. Barrels of wheat, stacks of canned foods, water jugs, blankets, firewood, buckets of medical supplies—everywhere her eyes traveled, they were met with survival essentials.
This woman was ready for the zombie apocalypse.
Or worse.
But the main event sat dead center: a six-by-six-foot table, five whiteboards placed around it filled with printed images, articles, mathematical equations, dates, names, and faces, many with red string connecting point to point. The very scene Zoe might dream up if she were creating a story about a delusional mind caught in deep paranoia.
Summer stormed toward the center table, which Zoe realized was covered with weapons in neat lines. Shelves below the table held handguns, rifles, heavy artillery, bullets, grenades. Weapons she shouldn’t have access to. Weapons no one should have access to.
“What is this place?” Lucy asked, eyes wide.
“This is preparation for the day it all happens,” Summer said, a brightness to her voice. She was excited about her stash. She was certifiable, Zoe thought.
“When what happens?” Lucy asked.
“The fall of the powers that be.” Summer made direct eye contact with Lucy. “You’re going to be a part of that.”
“I am?”
Summer smiled and pulled a file from underneath a sleek black handgun. She held it out toward Lucy, who stepped up to grab it from her.
“Ollie didn’t give me details,” Summer started. “Most of this I found myself, and most of it is from before she went to work for Grantham.”
“The Grantham Project,” Lucy said as her eyes traced the information inside the folder.
“A top-secret government program. In fact, there aren’t any public records of the program, its funding, or its intent, which means whatever they are doing, they don’t want people to know. They hired Ollie back in 2005, a couple of years after Robin died.”
Robin. That was the link that connected Summer and Olivia, Zoe thought. She recognized the pain in Summer’s eyes when she mentioned Robin’s name. Zoe knew that kind of pain. Summer had loved this Robin very much.
Summer continued, “There is some speculation on the dark web that Grantham was created to build and test biological weaponry. The kind you wouldn’t know was a threat until it was too late. As far as I can gather, the Grantham Project wanted Ollie for her breakthrough work on genetics and the understanding of cell reproduction and manipulation. She all but confirmed that she’d joined to be part of something she believed would be revolutionary, but things got out of control, and she was afraid for her life.”