Below the Surface

November 21, 1982

CONTENT WARNINGS: Language, discussions of death

You quietly shut the door to the basement, careful not to wake Finney. You'd wake him in a minute. For now, you had some thinking to do.

How could you get Finney out of here alive?

He'd been down here longer than any other boy thus far; you knew his time was coming. You'd have to hurry. And, let's face it, your recent encounters with Al were proving that Finney's time here was growing as short as Al's fuse. You had to act fast.

You crouched in front of Finney and shook his shoulder gently. "Finney," you whispered. "Finney, wake up."

Finney opened his eyes and jumped back. Clearly, you efforts to be gentle with him were futile. His back slammed against the concrete wall as he scrambled to move back.

"Finney, it's me!" You exclaimed. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

Finn took a minute to cease his panicking to observe that, yes, it was you. He slowly relaxed, sitting up.

"What's going on?"

"I've got some time to talk to you. Al's talking to the police right now. I may or may not have given them the street that the Grabber lives on, and I guess they're interviewing everyone on the street. So, we've got some time."

"Time for what?" Finney yawned.

"To make a plan," you said.

"Y/N, let me ask you something. How many days have I been down here?"

After a moment of mental math, you replied, "Nineteen."

"And, how many were the others here for?"

"Usually about a week, maybe a little longer. But, don't go there. I know we're running out of time. I don't know why he's kept you this long. I don't know what his plan with you is. But he's been getting shorter and shorter with me, so I can only assume that... that..." You paused, words hitching in your throat. Were you really about to say it?

Finn got the point and put a hand on your knee.

"Please, don't cry. I've already accepted my fate."

You looked at Finn, shock flooding your face. "Don't say that!" You cried. "Finney Blake, don't you say that! If you resign yourself to dying, than you're no better than Al!"

"How am I no better than a serial killer?" Finney shot back.

"Because when he get's caught, he's going to ride the lightning and he knows it! And if you say that you know your fate is sealed, than you're just like him."

"I don't see your logic, but let's drop it. You clearly came down here with an intent. What is it?"

You wiped your eyes and swallowed your fear. "You're right. You're right; I'm sorry. I think I have a way for you to get out of here."

Finney's eyes widened. "Actually? Like, you didn't just want to theorize about it?"

You shook your head. "No. I have a plan. I don't know if it will work, but it's worth a shot."

"Fill me in."

"On Wednesday, Al has a dentist appointment at nine in the morning. He's got to go into the city for it, so he'll probably leave around eight. I leave for school at about eight-thirty. Here's what I think I'll do: I'll come down to give you a glass of water before Al leaves, and then leave the door unlocked."

"He's left it unlocked before. I've come up, and he's just... sitting there."

"I've never seen him do that."

"I think he does it when you're out."

"Ugh. Anyways, I'll leave the door unlocked, but I'll lock the front door. When I leave, I'll drop a note through that window." You pointed to the bars that showed how tall the grass outside had gotten. "And I'll tell you where the spare key is. Then, go upstairs, get the key, go outside, and lock the door. Keep the key so you can help the police get in. What do you think?"

"Y/N, I think you're the smartest girl I know."

__________________________________

Upstairs, Al was shitting bricks. The police were in his home. They were looking around a bit. And they were suspicious. They had peeked into the garage and seen Al's van. They knew he had the van, and they were asking too many questions.

One of the cops, the one with the Brooklyn accent, turned and looked at the unnaturally pale Al.

"You mind if we search your van, sir?"

Al gulped. "Yes, actually, I do. I was just working on it before you guys came over."

"So?"

"So, I'd rather not have my work messed with. And, besides, you technically need a warrant to search my house. I'm letting you do it without one in the kindness of my heart. Don't push it."

Harris raised an eyebrow at Al, but didn't push it. He turned and looked towards his partner, who was returning from the upstairs.

"Mr. Shaw, how come you have a second bedroom? It looks like someone lives in it, but you said it's just you here."

"Oh, it's just me here right now. My niece lives with me; she's just not here right now. Sorry about the confusion."

Brooks and Harris exchanged looks before she nodded at him. Harris looked back to Al, whose eyes were bouncing from the basement to the armed officers in his kitchen.

"Well, Mr. Shaw, I think that's it. Is there anything else you think we should know? About your house or schedule?" Harris looked coldly at Al; he clearly didn't trust him.

"No, officer. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to continue working on my car now. I have to go to work in the morning, so I need it drivable."

Without another word, the officers left.

Al let out a heavy, relieved sigh before wiped his face. He was running out of time. He'd have to get rid of Finney soon. Shame. He liked him so much. This weekend would work, he supposed. You'd be out with Olivia, and it would just be Finney Blake and Albert Shaw.

Shaking his head, he walked over to the basement.

__________________________________

As you heard the lock turning, you shared a scared glance with Finney.

"Quick! Act like you're asleep!"

Finney laid down and curled into a ball, closing his eyes and slowing his breathing. You sat still next to him, hand resting gently on his calf.

"Y/N?" Al appeared in the doorway. "What are you doing?"

"He was muttering in his sleep," you lied. "Figured he was having a nightmare. I thought I would just... sit with him."

"Well, it's time to come upstairs now. Go up to your room now." Al gestured for you to leave, and you hesitantly did.

"How come I have to go up to my room?" You asked.

"Because I need to think. I need quiet."

You knew what that meant. You could only hope that Al would wait just long enough for Finney to escape.