by Allen Kuzara
CHAPTER 14
AFTER VAUGHN EXPLAINED the rest of the plan to the three, he told them he would accept their answer in the morning, after they’d slept on it. They each received pampered treatment aboard the impressively large Navy destroyer. Nick wondered why Vaughn hadn’t put them up inside the sub. He decided it was either because the accommodations weren’t as nice, or—and he suspected the latter—Vaughn had kept the sub for himself, his own submersible castle.
After fresh showers, a second dinner, and brief parting words, the three separated, each going to their private quarters where they gladly slept off the nightmare of the last two days.
Nick awoke with a growling stomach. He stepped out of his bunk—even an admiral’s quarters were still a bunk—and heard talking down the hallway. It was Lusa and Jimmy sitting in an empty room full of chairs and tables. Nick greeted them with a half-wave and smile. He figured this place used to be used by sailors during their leisure time. The skeleton crew aboard the ship now had no use for it, and he wondered how many hours per day Vaughn had them actively working.
“Good morning, sleepy head,” Lusa said as he sat down with them. The chairs felt so good, the soft supple leather cushions swallowing him and his aches and pains at the same time. And Lusa seemed to be back to her cute, coy self.
“Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” Nick answered.
“I’ll tell you what this man’s gotta do,” Jimmy said. “Eat!” He stood up, attempting to lead the charge to the mess hall.
“Wait,” Nick said. “I think we need to make our minds up here and now…before we go any further.”
Jimmy sat down. “What’s to decide?” he asked.
Nick felt like he was back in Fairbanks in the basement trying to talk Jimmy out of going to Deadhorse. Of course, in the end going to Deadhorse had been the best thing for them, so Nick wasn’t quite as critical of his brother’s exuberance these days.
“What do you think?” Nick asked Lusa.
“What? You actually care what a girl thinks?” she replied. Nick started to defend himself, but before he could, she went on. “I think we have to do it. We can’t just sit in your…vault and wait for the end of the world.”
Nick knew she was probably right, but he didn’t like the way she had said it, the way she had made him sound like the bad guy. “All I’m saying is this isn’t something to be taken on lightly,” Nick said. “We’re risking our lives. And, Lusa, I know you don’t want to hear this, but what makes you think you can take on this job? I mean, you’re smart and capable and all that, but this is fighting and killing we’re talking about.”
“You wouldn’t know what I’m capable of,” she answered. “And besides, what I do is my decision, not yours.”
He knew she was right; he wasn’t in charge of her. Not like that, anyway. But Pete had told him to take care of her. Nick wanted to say so but didn’t want to bring up the sore subject. She had been friendly a moment ago, and he wanted the sweet version of Lusa to return. Talking about her dead relatives wasn’t likely to achieve that.
“I’m not suggesting we just go home and do nothing,” Nick said. “It’s just, I think we should examine our options and think this through.”
“Vaughn spelled it out for us yesterday,” Jimmy said. “What’s to think through? He did all the thinking for us.”
“That’s the problem,” Nick said.
Vaughn had spelled it out for them: He needed each of them to control a team of drones out beyond the reach of his ship’s radio signal. The grand plan involved clearing the pipeline of crazies. Vaughn had explained how the pipeline had two features needed for his plan: one was the fuel it possessed. Nick was surprised to learn that there were nine pump stations spread out along the pipeline. The first was in Deadhorse, and the ninth was in Valdez, North America’s northern-most ice-free port. Originally, each station had been needed to help keep the oil flowing south, but later, additives were created that kept the oil better lubricated—Nick thought oil was always well lubricated—and the stations had become overly redundant.
But Vaughn wasn’t after the pump stations themselves, per se; he was after the mini refinery that each possessed. Nick couldn’t believe he’d never heard this before, but each of the stations had the ability to turn small amounts of oil into gasoline. The pumps hadn’t been designed to run on electricity; they were self-sufficient, powered by their own locally refined fuel.
This would be useful for obvious reasons, the fact that gas goes bad more easily than diesel not being the least. But Vaughn, yet again, had more fantastic plans. The gas from each pump would be used to power its own radio tower and transceiver, which could be run indefinitely as a relay station for the drone control signals originating from the Navy destroyer.
Once all the pump stations were back online and the signal was relayed from Deadhorse to Valdez, the entire chain of towers would work like an eight hundred mile long antenna. The signal strength of Vaughn’s transmissions would be amplified by an order of magnitude, allowing his drones to enter the rest of North America, shutting down nuclear reactors along the way.
It was a wild plan, and if Vaughn hadn’t already demonstrated his ability to achieve the impossible, Nick wouldn’t have even entertained the idea.
“I don’t like us being split up,” Nick said after a few moments of contemplation.
“Nobody does,” Jimmy said, “but we’re not exactly going to be alone out there. I mean, you saw what Vaughn’s drones can do. Those six soldiers took out dozens of emergents back at the vault.”
Emergents—that was another term contributed by Vaughn. He had explained that these people were once crazies but that the intense radiation from the continental U.S. had altered them somehow.
“Just tell me this,” Nick said, “how did this supposed mutation occur simultaneously across the country? I mean, that doesn’t sound plausible at all.”
“Vaughn said it had been like a switch waiting to be thrown,” Lusa responded. “It’s not like all the crazies turned into emergents. Most just died. Those left are the people whose switch was thrown.”
Nick didn’t like it. He hadn’t had biology class in over a year, but from everything he knew about evolution, this wasn’t the way it worked; it was always a single individual with a chance mutation that gained reproductive advantage, and then over the course of multiple generations, the new DNA became representative of the species. All this, what Vaughn had explained, was something else entirely.
“C’mon,” Jimmy said. “He’s a scientist for crying out loud.”
“I don’t trust him. He’s not telling us the whole story,” Nick said with an elevated tone.
Just then a drone walked by, and the three froze as if the teacher had just walked back into the room of rowdy students. After he passed into the other room, Nick said, “D’you see that? His nose was bleeding. Why would his nose be bleeding?”
They thought for a moment, then Jimmy sat up with excitement. “Vaughn already told us,” he said, pleased to defend the man. “It had to be a side-effect from passing through the Hot Zone.”
There was yet another term given to them by Vaughn. The Hot Zone was that band of latitude that now glowed from radiation. When Vaughn had traveled to Deadhorse—he hadn’t exactly said where he’d come from—he’d passed through the band. He had dived deep enough in his sub to avoid the radiation. But the destroyer had passed through on the surface of the water, and Vaughn said he’d lost many drones in the process, though he didn’t say how they’d died or what their symptoms had been.
“All that proves,” Lusa said, “is that Vaughn is telling us the truth about why we need to go to Fairbanks.”
“Sheesh. You had to say it out loud, didn’t you?” Nick said, squirming in his seat. “That’s the part of the plan that sounds most ludicrous. There must be twenty or thirty-thousand crazies down there, and he wants us to round them up?”
“But we need more drones to shut down the reactors,” Jimmy
pointed out. “Otherwise, there’s no point building the transmission relay.”
They were right, Nick knew. Vaughn simply didn’t have the existing manpower needed to shut down all those reactors even if they did get all the stations up and the signal boosted. It just so happened that Fairbanks was near pump station number five, right where they should all meet up. It was a complete, well-thought out plan that Nick had trouble poking holes in. Except, he just plain didn’t like it. The logic was sound, and his critical mind was frustrated that he couldn’t find reasons to validate his emotions.
“Lusa,” Nick said. “Why don’t you just let me and Jimmy do this? I know Vaughn said he needed you, but we’ve been taking out crazies for the last year. There’s no need for you to get involved. And your part of the plan doesn’t sound necessary to me.”
Gone in a flash was any warm feeling or affection from Lusa, and Nick realized that was unlikely to change anytime soon. “I thought he made it abundantly clear why he needed my help,” she said. “And besides assisting you in Fairbanks—something you clearly can’t do without me—there’s more than one reason for me to sweep the eastern oil fields. As Vaughn said, there’s no point in turning on the pump stations if emergents or crazies come along behind us and destroy them. But just as importantly, my people are out there.” She pointed toward the wall, and Nick had the wits to keep his mouth shut and not tell her she was pointing in the wrong direction.
“You may have given up,” she continued, “but I’ve got more to live for than just mere survival. Those emergents are on the move; they’re heading this way and will wipe out village after village if we don’t stop them. The villagers don’t even know what’s coming. They’ve got no one to warn them. At least this way, I can help. I can be out there doing something. Then, after we take Fairbanks, Vaughn will have his army and can destroy the emergents, and my people will be safe.”
“He’s going to turn off the nukes first,” Nick countered.
“What does that matter?” Lusa said, her voice rising higher. “He’ll take out the emergents along the way. Or after he’s done with the reactors.”
“Your sure about that?” Nick asked. “He never spelled that out.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” she said. “Of course, he would.”
“What if there aren’t any drones left?” Nick offered. “You saw that one with the bloody nose. That’s what happens when you simply sail through the Hot Zone. How many drones do you think will be standing after he makes them go inside the reactors and initiate shutdown? Quite frankly, I don’t know if he can pull it off.”
“Well, what’s your plan, smarty pants,” Jimmy asked. It sounded playful, like he was trying to diffuse the tension, but no one found it funny. Nick didn’t answer but kept his eyes fixed on Lusa.
“Why are you against me?” she asked.
“I’m not,” he said, exasperated by the thought. “I’m trying to keep you alive. I’m trying to keep my promise to your father.” And there it was, the slip-up.
Fresh tears came to Lusa’s eyes, though she fought them back and kept them from rolling freely down her face. “And that’s why I have to go,” she said. “He’s still out there. I know it.”
Nick couldn’t believe his ears. There was no way Pete was still alive. They’d both heard the gunfire, how it had abruptly ended with what was undoubtedly Pete’s and the other men’s last stand.
“I know you don’t think so,” she said. “But I believe he’s alive. Out there. He and others from my family. They need me.”
Nick knew it was irrational. It might even be dangerous for her to think this way; she was setting herself up for an even bigger disappointment later, and he might not be with her when she finally realized the truth. How would she handle it then, out there with a bunch of automaton drones to comfort her? But Nick couldn’t think of any way to proceed that didn’t involve letting Lusa go. He couldn’t exactly lock her up and wait for her to come to her senses, though he’d had fleeting thoughts of doing just that—the vault made such things sound reasonable.
And maybe, just maybe, they’d succeed. Lusa did have the easier task. She was far less likely to run into trouble east of the pipeline, whereas he and Jimmy would certainly do their share of killing in the coming days. The part that made him give in was his complete inability to think of a better way to fight off the coming hordes of emergents or a way to keep the northern hemisphere from permanently becoming uninhabitable. Vaughn had a plan, a real plan that could work as crazy as it was. And Lusa, if he was ever to patch up their relationship, needed to work through her loss. At least this way she could put her emotions to good, productive use. She’d search the wilderness, warn all she could, and ultimately come back to him in Fairbanks. And if they could make it out the other side of that part of the plan, she would have gotten much of this irrationality out of her system and would have to trust Nick again. They’d have to trust each other.
“Is everybody sure?” Nick finally asked.
Jimmy seemed to see the crack running down the wall of Nick’s resistance. “Aww, snap,” Jimmy said. “This is going to happen, isn’t it?”
“We have to be all in,” Nick said, trying not to smile. “We have to be committed one hundred percent, or it’ll never work. There’s no turning back once we start this, and if one of us flakes out,”—he gave Jimmy a look— “it may mean the death of us.”
Lusa stuck her hand forward, and Nick gave her a confused look. “What are you waiting for?” she asked. “Are you in, or what?”
Jimmy solved the problem for Nick when he put his hand on hers and said, “I’m in. Let’s do this.”
Nick felt stupid for doing it, but this was better than how it had been, and he wasn’t willing to squash the group’s comradery. Slowly, he stuck his hand out above Jimmy’s.
“On three,” Jimmy instructed.
“Wait, what are we saying?” Nick asked.
Jimmy didn’t miss a beat. “Everyone knows where we’re headed, where we’ll see each other again as victors.”
Nick wanted to verbally sucker-punch his brother but bit his tongue.
Jimmy counted. “One. Two. Three.”
The trio raised their hands upward and shouted, “Fairbanks!”
CHAPTER 15
AFTER MEETING WITH Vaughn and receiving instructions on how to handle their drones, it was time for the trio to say their goodbyes. There was no time for tears or long embraces; they were all as excited as rising freshmen the first day of high school and were ready to be on their way.
Lusa was the first to leave. “Are you sure you’ve got this?” Nick had asked. All she gave in return was a smile and the words, “Still don’t trust a girl, do ya?” And then she was off to the eastern oil fields. The way she had said it, he didn’t know if she was mad at him or was simply taunting him, playfully. He watched her walk away, her blue jeans standing out in a wall of black and grey drone uniforms. At least they would be able to stay in radio contact, he thought.
Jimmy’s goodbye was equally brief, a simple high-five and ‘take care of yourself’ and ‘see you in Fairbanks’ before disappearing with Vaughn. Nick knew this was his little brother’s fantasy come to life: learning to pilot a submarine, commanding a highly trained team of super soldiers, and saving the world. He just wished he could be with Jimmy along the southern half of the Dalton to watch his back and talk some sense into him from time to time. But Jimmy was a different kid than he had been in Fairbanks a year ago. He wasn’t really even a kid anymore, not legally since he turned eighteen.
Vaughn had talked privately with Nick as if he needed special instructions. “Take them out for a spin, someplace that isn’t crawling with crazies,” Vaughn had said. “Stick to the default programming. It should be sufficient for anything you’ll run into out there.”
Nick thought that Vaughn respected him, recognized he was the natural leader of the three, but Nick also felt like Vaughn was threatened by this dynamic. Nick wasn’t fall-over impressed by
Vaughn the way Jimmy and Lusa seemed to be, and this alone meant Vaughn had to keep Nick on a short leash, or so Nick thought.
Now, it was time to see what this little crew of crazies-turned-fighting-machines could do. Nick stood before the six drones assigned to him. They were ‘at ease,’ the designation Vaughn had explained was the resting default. This allowed drones to relieve themselves of various necessary bodily functions and to sit or recline more comfortably. Their limitation was that they had to stay within close radio contact.
Nick looked at his small screen that covered his left forearm. The tactical display was his first mode of command; additionally, he wore a radio headset and clear glasses that allowed him to target objects visually. A paranoid part of him questioned whether he wasn’t turning into a machine like the drones, perhaps all part of Vaughn’s plan.
Nick fingered through some of the basic commands on his display and hit the ‘at attention’ command. The drones who were sitting stood up quickly and arranged themselves into a single-file line before him. They stood between him and the jeep behind them that was filled with the supplies they would need to erect the transmission relay.
Nick heard footsteps coming from his right. He twisted sideways and reached for his Springfield reflexively, fearing an unanticipated crazy. His nine-millimeter was missing, and by the time he remembered he’d swapped it out for an assault rifle like the ones the drones used, the sixth member of his micro-army came running up and fell in line.
“Where were you?” Nick asked.
No answer.
“I said, where were you?” Nick repeated. “Anybody? Can’t you all talk? There’s nothing wrong with your vocal cords, is there?”
No response.
He looked closer at his command display. One tab that Vaughn hadn’t covered in his presentation was something called ‘sound off.’ Nick stared at it for a second, afraid to touch it. Before his entire mind was sold on the idea, Nick mashed the icon.
Instantly, the six drones spoke in turn. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.”