“The other thing we witnessed,” Danica said softly. “The thing that was worse than the accident. I think it happened down there.” She turned to Dryden. “Don’t you?”

Dryden nodded. He had no idea why he believed it; there was nothing rational behind the feeling. Still, there it was.

He stared into the dark a moment longer, then stepped away and scanned the tall grass for the hard-case emergency kit from the chopper. He found it at the edge of the scrub, ten feet away, and brought it back to the stairs.

Inside the case, set into cutouts in the foam interior, were four marker flares, four emergency Mylar blankets, and four Maglite flashlights. Dryden took one Maglite out and tested it; the beam shone brightly. Danica and Lauren each took another, and a moment later the staircase lay flooded with light.

The door at the bottom was metal, its surface almost entirely covered with rust, save for a few tiny chips of black paint clinging to it. Against the foot of the door, a two-foot-high drift of dead weeds and twigs had accumulated, blown in from the field above.

The door had a steel handle instead of a knob, and above it there was a twelve-button keypad—probably entirely mechanical, given how old it had to be.

Even at this distance, the keypad struck Dryden in exactly the same way as Echo House—more intensely, even. At the same time, it was like looking at those darts in the pool table’s pockets. There was more than just recognition here, there was—what, exactly?

Something to remember. Some specific piece of knowledge. Something they had known back when—

Danica suddenly drew a quick breath. She looked at Dryden, then Lauren, and without a word she stepped over the edge and descended the steps at a run. Dryden followed, Lauren coming along behind.

By the time Dryden reached the bottom, behind Danica, she had her hand poised in front of the keypad, her fingertip six inches away from it.

It hit Dryden half a second before her hand moved.

Five sevens in a row.

Danica punched in the sequence. There was a heavy thud from inside the door, and she took hold of the handle and pushed.

It’ll be rusted shut, Dryden thought, but he saw almost at once that he was wrong. The door budged open under Danica’s effort, and he stepped forward and leaned into it with her. The door was solid steel, and heavy. Together they shoved it open, dead weeds spilling in around their feet. Lauren followed, raising her light, and a few seconds later all three had slipped through the opening.

The space beyond was small: a short corridor lined with grey ceramic tiles. It had the entry door at one end, and at the opposite end, maybe ten feet away, a door with a handle but no keypad.