Scavenger Read Online Free PDF

regained consciousness and found herself in the Paragon Hotel. Again , she thought. My God, it’s happening again .
    “The fifth is the Gramophone Company Capsule. In 1907, in Middlesex, England, the Gramophone Company placed audio discs into a time capsule in the cornerstone of its new factory.”
    The voice was sonorous. Despite her grogginess, she guessed she was hearing the continuation of the speech Professor Murdock delivered at the Manhattan History Club. But the voice did not belong to the professor.
    “These recordings included music by several then-famous opera stars. During demolition sixty years later, the capsule was found. But before the recordings could be played for an audience, they were stolen, the irreplaceable voices on those discs never to be recovered.”
    Amanda fought to control her breathing. Frank? she thought. Where are you? She started toward a door, only to whimper when the voice returned to an earlier part of the lecture.
    “Of the thousands of time capsules that have been misplaced ...”
    Amanda almost screamed.
    “. . . five are considered the most-wanted.”
    Chest contracting, she realized that the voice was on a recorded loop. While she was unconscious, it must have played repeatedly. That explained why the words seemed familiar, even though she had no memory of having heard them.
    “The first is the Bicentennial Wagon Train Capsule.”
    I’m in hell, Amanda thought. She ran to the door and grabbed the handle, fearful that it wouldn’t budge.
    “On Independence Day, 1976 . . . ”
    The handle moved when she pressed down. Heart pounding faster, she yanked at the door.
    “... a capsule containing twenty-two million signatures was driven to Valley Forge, Pennsylvania.”
    When she pulled the door open, she found a log-walled corridor. She peered to the left and right, seeing doors and paintings of cowboys.
    “President Gerald Ford was scheduled to officiate.”
    She eased out and shut the door, the only sound a muffled continuation of the recording.
    A long carpet occupied the middle of the corridor. On her right, Amanda saw a dead end. She crept silently to the left, hearing the faint voice behind the doors she passed.
    “But before the ceremony occurred, someone stole the capsule from an unattended van.”
    2
    She came to a staircase. Its fresh smell of wood and varnish suggested that the building was new. At the bottom, a large open area led to a door with a window on each side.
    She hurried down, reached the door, and grabbed its handle.
    Electricity jolted her, knocking her backward. Her mind went blank. The next thing she knew, she landed hard, slamming her head on the floor. Pain shot through her. She groaned and managed to focus her vision.
    “Jesus,” someone said.
    Turning toward the sound, she saw a man charge down the stairs. Midtwenties. Short, dark hair. Gaunt, rugged features. Beard stubble.
    She raised her hands to defend herself, then realized he wasn’t attacking her.
    “Are you hurt?” He helped her up.
    “Sore.” She wavered, dazed, grateful not to be alone.
    “Where are we?” he asked.
    “I have no idea.” Amanda stared at her tingling hand. “But I don’t recommend touching that door handle.”
    “The voice in my room.... The last thing I remember ...” The man’s haunted eyes scanned the area around them. He struggled to concentrate. “I was in a bar in St. Louis.”
    “I was at a lecture in Manhattan,” Amanda told him, baffled. “About time capsules.”
    “Time capsules? The same as the recording in my room. What the hell’s going on?”
    “I’m afraid to imagine.”
    “There’s got to be a way out.”
    An archway beckoned on the right. They went through it and reached a long dining table flanked by chairs, everything rustic. Windows provided a view of more mountains. Through a further archway, Amanda saw an old-fashioned wood stove, a refrigerator, other windows, and a door.
    Her companion hurried toward the latch.
    “Don’t