Sierra heard the clanging of blades and yelling back and forth from the tunnel below them. The yelling got louder and then a teeth-shattering whir rumbled out, shaking the cavern around them. The sound grew louder and then faded away, leaving Sierra and Juan with only the sound of their own frantic panting.
"What do we do?" whispered Juan.
"We go on with the plan," Sierra said. "We have no choice."
"But that's ridiculous!" Juan said.
"Quiet down, man. Let's head towards that light. I don't think this is the Vault yet—probably some kinda antechamber. C'mon."
She walked up along a steady incline, letting her feet land softly on the ground, making as little noise as possible. Juan would just have to follow, she figured; what else was he gonna do? Pretty soon she heard his trying-to-be-quiet footsteps creeping along behind her. The light at the top of the ramp turned out to be coming from a steel door with a small window on it. Sierra peered in, but all she could see was a dim, twinkling torch shimmer. "This must be the Vault," she said, feeling an unnatural calm spreading over her body. She reached down and pried her sneakers off her feet, motioning to her brother to do the same. "Quiet as possible," she said. Juan nodded weakly. Sierra took hold of the doorknob and ever-so-quietly turned it. The door swung open toward her. She quelled the mounting panic by simplifying the situation: there was no way back. They had a mission: get to the roof and open the hatch to release the clackens. Twork would follow. Lucera would deal with it from there. Any thought too far from that led to utter terror.
Sierra took a step into the Vault. The air on her face was cold and perfectly still. Juan tiptoed in behind her and silently shut the door. So far as she could tell, they hadn't made a sound yet. Maybe this would be okay after all. They were standing in a dimly lit circular area about the size of Sierra's homeroom. Several metal stairwells spiraled up around them into the misty darkness. Just pick one, Sierra thought. Juan will follow.
She edged towards the nearest staircase and placed her left foot as carefully as she could on the first step. Immediately, a dull clanging echoed up into the chamber. Sierra cringed. Juan tightened his hand around her shoulder. She shrugged him off. Okay, she thought, even quieter this time. Raising her right foot, she tried to imagine letting each molecule down as gently as possible along the second step. Be like a ghost, she told her self, like a ghost. Her foot landed with a barely audible touch, which Sierra decided would have to do. She raised her left foot again, and again imagined each molecule, placing her foot gently on the third step. She felt Juan moving behind her, and prayed he would figure out for himself how to stay quiet. His first step was painfully loud and it seemed like the echo would never die out. When it finally did, something rustled in the darkness above them, and Sierra held her breath. But the thing must've gone back to sleep, or it was just her imagination, because the deathly stillness soon returned. Sierra took another extra-slow, extra careful step up as Juan did the same. At this rate, she thought grimly, they might make it to the second floor by daybreak tomorrow. If they made it at all.
Once they settled into a steady, slow-as-molasses rhythm, Sierra allowed her brain to slip into a kind of trance and tune out her aching muscles and racing heart. Each step still sent out a dull fluttering echo or two, but it couldn't have gone more than a few feet, by Sierra's calculation. She hoped the Vaultkeep were a little further off the path than that.
Sierra and Juan were past the second landing and halfway towards the third when they heard footsteps. They were quiet at first, just an occasional, muffled tap, each followed by a few shuddering echoes and some shuffling. Sierra stopped dead in her extra-extra slow tracks. She carefully carefully and oh-so-quietly turned her head to catch Juan's eye. He nodded that he heard them too and they both held perfectly still. For a few silent seconds, Sierra prayed that they had just imagined the whole thing, but then there it was again, this time louder and, without a doubt, closer. Another sound reached their ears now—high pitched and mournful—from the tangle of circling stairs above. The footsteps were coming faster now, and Sierra wasn't sure whether to remain frozen or make a break for it. A break for what? She thought desperately. The road back only led to a dead end, and whatever it was that was moaning and creeping towards them was coming from somewhere just over their heads.
Tap. The sound reverberated up and down the inner walls of the Vault. The next one was closer, but with the constant echoing it was impossible to tell where exactly it came from. Then Sierra saw a figure slouch against the railing of the platform just above them. She almost jumped instinctively away from it and cluttered down the stairs but managed to hold herself perfectly still. If it was the Vaultkeep, it wouldn't be able to find her unless she made noise, supposedly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Juan looking off in another direction—he had't seen the figure yet. She slowly reached out her hand to calm him when he suddenly turned his head up towards the landing.
"Ah!" Juan yelled, jumping a step back down the stairs. "Sier-" He stopped mid-word, because the clatter of his feet and call for help were bouncing in endless mocking repeats all around them. He threw his hands over his mouth and looked sorrowfully at his sister. Sierra was busy trying with all her might not to smack him. She peered up at the where the figure had been slouched but it was gone.
Well, Sierra thought for the second time in under an hour, this is probably it. She felt surprisingly calm, looking up and down the winding metal stairs around them for signs of the inevitable attack. It would come, and they would deal with it when it got there, whatever it was. Juan's echoing catastrophe finally started dying out, and Sierra imagined he'd have that shamefaced cringe on for the next few days, if he lived that long. Then something moving on the platform above them caught her eye; it was the slouching figure again.
Without pausing or thinking why, Sierra walked briskly up the last few steps and rounded the corner on to the landing. She heard Juan scatter to catch up as quietly as possible. A few feet in front of her, the figure stumbled from the railing to its knees in the half-light of a nearby torch. Sierra heard small whimpering noises. She took another step closer. It was a he. Not much taller than her, probably. Light brown skin, clothes tattered, head bowed.
"Treme," Sierra said softly. "Treme, we're not here to hurt you." More whimpering. "Treme," Sierra said. "Can I come to you? Can I help you up?"
Treme Lowery lifted his head and Sierra and Juan both gasped. He was the same boy from the posters scattered around Bed-Stuy except for the two black voids where his eyes were supposed to be. Dark blood was caked in horrible circles around each socket. Treme let out a moan that bounced back and forth a few times around them as it faded. Sierra rushed towards him, cringing at each clanging step, and wrapped herself around his shuddering body. She heard Juan walk up slowly behind her.
The howling started so suddenly and loudly that Sierra actually jumped up from her crouch. She'd been expecting it, but it was much more horrible when it was so close- a guttural, wretched noise that tore through her insides like a rusty knife. She saw Juan cringe and cover his ears. Treme opened his mouth, but if he screamed no one heard it: the howl overwhelmed all other sound.
As the howling died out, Sierra could see the whole sick game play out in her mind: that was the first Vaultkeep, the nearest. His howl had alerted the others, woke them from their assassin dreams, and now he'd hone in on them, figure out exactly where they were and let the rest know. Endgame. Sierra shook Treme to get his attention. Whatever happened next, she had to calm him down.
"Treme," she whispered. "Treme, my name's Sierra." Treme just trembled and shook his head back and forth, whimpering. "I'm friends with Robbie. Your friend Robbie? Remember?" He stopped shaking at the mention of his best friend's name and turned his mutilated face at Sierra attentively. "Robbie and I," Sierra began, but she stopped suddenly. The package.
Footsteps slammed loudly against the metal platform in the hazy darkness above them. They clamored a few times and then paused while the echoes subsided. Listening. It was hunting them. Sierra swung the bag around to her front and pulled out Robbie's package. Juan took her place beside Treme, wrapping a calming arm around his heaving shoulders. Above them, the footsteps began again, this time louder and accompanied by a sharp tap-tapping. Four stairwells spun up from the landing they sat on. Sierra wondered which the thing would descend from.
She turned her attention back to the package. "DON'T OPEN ME UNTIL YER INSIDE VAULT!!" Well, here I am, Sierra thought. She tore open the manila package, ripped off two layers of newspaper and one of bubble wrap and then took out a piece of wood. It was flat surfaced, an inch or so thick. A wave of panic shuddered through her body. She'd been hoping that somehow this present would help them. What was this, a joke? The wood was ordinary in every way. She turned it over in frustration and her mouth dropped open. Ordinary in every way except that on the other side, Robbie had painted a swirling image of himself and Sierra dancing at the Club Kalfour, surrounded by little old Haitian couples and swirling murals. The painting was swirling too—ever so slightly. The dancers spun in rhythmic circles around the room, the trumpet player raised his horn to the ceiling, the murals looked on approvingly. He'd even put in the two old ladies and little ancient fellow. Sierra let her gaze drift around the picture until she settled on herself and Robbie. They were holding each other close, staring deeply into each other's eyes. It was a precise moment she remembered so clearly, and as she stared at it, the images of the club faded into darkness until the painted Sierra and Robbie were dancing against a night sky, with Brooklyn glowing somewhere beneath them.
A sharp banging tore Sierra from her reverie and she leapt forward in terror, almost dropping the painting. She spun around to face the Vaultkeep but it was nowhere to be seen. The banging was still bouncing back and forth along the walls though, with no sign of fading. Sierra laughed. She looked over at Juan, who was still tending to Treme and didn't seem to have noticed anything happening at all. He looked over at her questioningly.
"Something funny? What's going on, Sierra?"
"It's a clacken!" Sierra yelled over the deafening roar flying around her. "You don't hear anything right?"
"I heard the Vaultkeep above us a second ago, but now it's quiet. I think he's trying to place us again."
"Yeah, well, he's gonna have a hard time of it," Sierra said, "with that noise banging all around the Vault. Listen—we have to split up." Juan's face flashed panic. "Trust me, Juan. There's no way we're making it to the top with Treme. I'm gonna go up. You take Treme and get out of here. Head back down to that antechamber on the ground floor. Try to find someway onto the street, but if you can't, hang tight and I'll send someone for you when I get to the top. The Vaultkeep'll be after me anyway."
"Ok, ok," Juan said, "but why are you yelling?"
Sierra helped Treme up and leaned him against Juan. The clacken was still bursting every which way and she couldn't help but smile. Robbie had had it all figured out: an endlessly echoing explosion would be a blinding flash of light to the Vaultkeep- their whole sense of direction demolished instantly.
"You hear the Vaultkeep?" Sierra asked her brother before he set off down the stairs.
"It's pacing back and forth on the last stairwell at the end of the platform, I think. You better hurry—that clacken might not last forever."
"Thanks. Be careful, Juan, okay?"
"Yeah, you be careful, sis."
"Deal."
Sierra paused on the third landing to catch her breath. At first she couldn't distinguish the towering shadow standing perfectly still on the other side of the metal platform, but then it lurched forward suddenly, swiping at the air with a long, sharp cane. The clacken still thundered around them. Blind and blind again, thought Sierra. She started up another stairwell.
Something was coming. She figured she was about halfway up the tower. She was panting and sweat-soaked. The clacken was still going but she could tell it's starting to fade. From somewhere nearby, footsteps scrambled heavily toward her, along with that ominous tap-tapping of the Vaultkeep's sword-cane. She squinted up at the rest of the stairwell but it was all darkness and those strange clouds hanging over everything. Or maybe something was moving. The second Vaultkeep emerged in a frenzy, straight out of the darkness she'd been staring into, its shining cane slashing down towards her. She could tell it was still mostly confused by that haphazard stumble but it seemed to have some idea where she was. She caught her foot in her scramble to get away and sailed down the last five steps, landing in a bruised heap on the metal grated platform. She was up in seconds, unable to concentrate on anything beyond the thought of that huge blind killer storming down behind her. She ran, slightly limping now, past three stairwells and ducked into the one at the very end of the platform.
More footsteps clamored around above her. She could distinguish at least three. The clacken had faded to a distant shudder. She peeked cautiously around the edge of the stairwell out onto the platform. The vaultkeep stood about ten feet away—a tall, pale shirtless creature with a black cloth tied tightly around its eyes. One of its long muscular arms reached out in front and the other made tiny sweeps at the air with its cane. Sierra reached into her bag, dug out her i-pod and tossed it over the railing, aiming at one of the stairwells below. It found its mark, bouncing hard against the metal and letting out a sustained report. The Vaultkeep spun its head towards the noise and then immediately snapped back up and began walking directly toward Sierra. She almost screamed but managed to keep it in and instead turned and bolted up the stairs. Behind her the tap-tapping got louder and more frantic as the footsteps began ascending towards her.
Sierra didn't stop at the next landing. As she flew across it and into the stairwell, she was pretty sure she caught something moving in the corner of her eye, but she wasn't about to stop and investigate. She stormed up the stairs, stopping just before they circled around to another platform. She caught her breath as quietly as she could and tried to listen for footsteps. Nothing. The clacken was done clacking. The Vault was totally silent. Mist hung in the dark air around her. She could make out the shadowy spirals of other stairwells and something—yes, something was definitely standing in the stairwell adjacent to hers. She saw the slight glint of light against the Vaultkeep's cane-sword. Why wasn't it moving? She spun around to check the next stairwell and spotted another tall shadow standing perfectly still. Then she heard the clanging of someone walking slowly up the stairs below her. But there was not tapping this time.
Terror overtook Sierra. It rushed through her veins, sped up her heart, shortened her breath. Without even a pretense of trying to disguise her echoing footfall, she backed up the stairs, one horrifying step at a time. Her eyes glared into the darkness below, but nothing emerged. Part of her just wanted to collapse and let it be over with- her whole body was suddenly exhausted. She stumbled awkwardly up a few more steps and then turned and ran as fast as she could towards the next platform up. From the sudden glints of light flashing on either side of her, she gathered the Vaultkeep were on the move as well.
Sierra stopped at the landing just long enough to see the two towering figures emerge on either side of her and raise their blades above their heads as they stepped forward. She hurled herself up the next flight and only stopped when she heard the voice.
"It's over, Sierra," the voice said. Its echo played unmercifully back and forth inside Sierra's skull and all around the Vault. "It's all over." She kept moving up the steps, but felt her legs beginning to give way beneath her. "You are still so far from the top. Your friends have all been destroyed." She saw the landing in the dim light a few steps above her, but Twork's voice was like a ten thousand pound weight in her body. Each word made it harder for her to go on. "You are still so far, Sierra, and my Vaultkeep are all around you." She heard the footsteps coming up the steps below her again, and realized why there was no tapping cane. "We have you in our grasp, don't you see?" Digital red words began scrolling around the darkness around her: IT'S OVER IT'S OVER IT'S OVER and YOUR FRIENDS HAVE ALL BEEN DESTROYED. Each step forward was harder than the next. "We will cut out your eyes like we did your friend Treme. Then, we will take your clackens like we did your poor uncle Lázaro."
Lázaro. The footsteps calmly closed in on her. The cycling words pushed her down but her uncle's name came like an explosion of life inside her aching body. She'd promised Lázaro she'd do everything she could to stop Twork. Biaque and Movimiento- wherever they were, if they were even alive, had sacrificed everything to save Brooklyn from Twork. Sierra felt her strength slowly returning. She reached for the platform with a shaking hand. Juan. Juan was wandering somewhere at the foot of this terrible building, with an eyeless Treme in tow. Everyone had given so much for her to be here. Even if here was the most terrifying moment of her life, Sierra knew with a sudden, total clarity it was also one of the most important things that would ever happen to her—if she lived. If she lived, her life would be marked forever by the things she did in this hideous Vault. She pulled her body onto the platform.
"You have failed, Sierra." But Twork's slithery voice sounded farther away now, even as his footsteps drew closer. "You have failed." She looked up for the next stairwell entrance but saw only sheer concrete wall. She rose carefully onto her feet and reached her hand into the darkness above her. She felt it instantly and knew exactly what it was. Wrapping both hands around the heavy circular lock handle, she braced herself and then turned with all her might.
"Sierra! Give up, I said! I said it's over!" The footsteps came faster now, but Sierra kept turning. The wheel didn't give much at first, just a grudging few inches, but she felt it ease forward as she pushed. Twork's tall, wiry frame came angling up the from the shadows behind her, his mirror goggles projecting dim reflections of her terrified face. The lock clicked open suddenly, and a rush of bright light blinded Sierra. Twork's long, sharp fingers and hands wrapped around her body as she scrambled to escape out onto the roof. She heard him cackling in her ear, felt his cold breath against the back of her neck, but through all her terror and exhaustion, Sierra could hear something different about Twork's laughter: he was nervous.
Something was happening in the air all around them. Sierra felt a rush of wind push around her from deep inside the Vault and then heard a cascade of pops erupting beneath them. The clackens—it was just as Biaque had said—once the top of the Vault was opened, the dormant clackens within would activate and flood out into the world. Little flashes of light burst scattershot in the darkness.
Someone grabbed her hands from above. It wasn't Twork. Twork's hands were busy fighting off her furiously kicking legs. The hands around her wrists were large and warm and a little sweaty. She could still barely see through the flood of white light, could only just make out a dark shape above her. Anything, she figured, was better than what she came from, and then she felt herself yanked ferociously out of the Vault and into the unforgiving light of day.