Those sons of bitches had just hurt his daughter.
He brought the AR-15 up and opened fire.
Even with the red haze of fury clouding his brain, he didn’t send bullets lancing wantonly into the men just outside the Command Center. He fired low instead. Some of the slugs ricocheted up into the crowd, but for the most part they just forced the men in the red vests to throw on the brakes and then scramble back through the opening.
“Cap, what are you doin’?” Wade demanded as he caught at Larkin’s arm. “Those are our guys!”
“So are the ones they were shooting at,” Larkin said as he lowered the rifle slightly. “And one of them was my kid!”
The group that included Jill had vanished through the doors at the other end of the foyer. Larkin had been able to tell that she was moving fairly well, so he hoped she wasn’t hurt too badly. He had to find out, so he told the men with him to find their friends and family and keep their heads down until they found out what was going on.
Then he rammed through the doors again and loped along Corridor Two toward the foyer at the far end, where he could get the elevator down to his apartment. First, he would make sure Susan was all right, then he would try to find Jill and check on her.
The thud of rapid footsteps behind him made him glance over his shoulder. Earl Crandall was there. The man said, “I’m coming with you, hoss. I realize we haven’t known each other long, but you’re the closest thing to a friend I got down here!”
Larkin wasn’t going to waste time arguing with him. Not when the world he had known for almost a year seemed to be falling apart with no warning.
Just like the world before it had done . . .
A door up ahead on the left side of the corridor opened a few inches. Larkin angled the rifle in that direction but held off on the trigger. He was glad he did when he saw a woman’s terrified face peering out at him. She jerked back and slammed the door.
Crandall said, “I’ve seen a few other folks peeking out at us after we went by. Looks like everybody’s hunkered down, Larkin. Shit must’ve really hit the fan. Was everything all right here when you left?”
“I thought it was,” Larkin said. “I guess I just didn’t know.”
Even though he was hurrying, his brain was working even faster. What he had seen back there had disoriented him, but he was sure of one thing: Jill never would have thrown in with Holdstock and the other malcontents who had rallied around him. So if it hadn’t been the bunch from the Bullpen who’d been fighting with the security force . . . then who was it?
Larkin and Crandall reached the far end of the corridor and pushed through the doors there. Larkin’s rifle was ready, but Crandall still had his slung on his back, where it had been all along. He asked, “You want me to cover your back, Larkin? I don’t want to break out the hardware unless you’re sure you trust me.”
Larkin didn’t hesitate. He said, “Yeah, I trust you. And if you give me any reason to regret it, I’ll kill you.”
“Fair enough,” Crandall said with a grim smile. He brought the rifle around and let the sling slip down off his shoulder. It was an old deer rifle, Larkin noted. Not the greatest weapon for fighting a battle . . . but nearly 250 years earlier, a bunch of patriots had won a revolution using their era’s equivalent.
They hadn’t reached the elevator leading down to the apartments in Silo A when the door to the apartment on this level swung open. Jim and Beth Huddleston lived there, so Larkin wasn’t surprised to see Beth step out.
He was shocked to see the gun in her hand, though: a Smith & Wesson .38 caliber revolver that she pointed at him as she said in a shrill, hysteria-edged voice, “Stop right there, Patrick Larkin!”
Larkin stopped and made a slight motion with his left hand, hoping Crandall would understand that he was telling him not to open fire. “Beth?” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on here. I’m all confused. Where’s Jim? Have you seen my wife?”
Beth sneered and said, “Jim called me on the walkie-talkie and warned me about you. He said you tried to kill him and the others. I’m not surprised. Your own daughter was with those lunatics trying to overthrow Graham Moultrie!”
Damn, Larkin thought, would the world ever stop lurching around under his feet? Beth Huddleston was not only holding a gun—she who hated guns and had argued stridently against the Second Amendment at every opportunity—but now she sounded like she supported whatever it was that Moultrie had done now. She’d always hated Moultrie. To her warped, throwback way of thinking, he was The Man—and she took that ridiculous notion seriously.
What would make her turn around so quickly and completely?
Larkin started to get a glimmer of an answer to that question, but he didn’t really have time to ponder it right now. Instead he said, “Beth, you need to put down that gun. I know you don’t want to hurt anybody.”
“Who’s that with you?” Beth’s voice quivered, less from fear than from rage, Larkin thought. “He’s one of those awful people from the surface, isn’t he?”
Crandall said, “I’m not looking for any trouble, ma’ am—”
“Things are going to be different now,” Beth interrupted as if she hadn’t heard him. “Everything is going to be all right. We’re going to get rid of all the bad people, and then there’ll be plenty for the rest of us.”
Those words made a chill go through Larkin. He said, “What are you talking about, Beth?”
The gun in her hand didn’t budge. Larkin had been waiting for her hand to start to shake. But for someone who probably had never held a gun before, Beth was remarkably steady as she said, “The food. There’s not enough. It’s going to run out in less than a month unless there are fewer people to eat it.”
“That’s crazy. There should be enough for another six months, at least.”
“No. There would have been, if Graham had had more time. But then there was the war . . .”
Under his breath, Crandall said, “This is some bad shit, Larkin. It sounds like she’s talking about culling the herd.”
“Yeah.” Larkin had thought the same thing, and it put a cold ball of unease in his stomach. “Listen, Beth, I don’t know what happened while I was gone, but I’m sure everything can be worked out.”
Beth shook her head. “There’s only one answer.”
“Moultrie promised you and Jim that you’d be among the ones left, didn’t he?” Larkin had gotten a hint of that earlier, but he was sure of it now.
“Well, it’s only right that we are,” Beth said with a note of defensiveness in her voice. “Jim has always been supportive of him, and I’ve come to appreciate that he’s just trying to look out for us.”
“He bought you off.” Larkin couldn’t keep the scorn out of his voice, even with the gun pointed at him.
“He didn’t have to. We’re better. We’ve always been better. We deserve to live.” Beth sniffed. “It’s only right. The people who are smarter, better educated, they have to survive and run things. You can’t let normal people decide things for themselves. They’ll do it all wrong. I mean, my God, look at some of the politicians normal people have elected!”
As always, arguing with Beth Huddleston was a waste of time, Larkin realized. She was as much of an elitist as she had ever been, although the world’s circumstances had changed drastically. People who thought they were better than everybody else would always try to seize power sooner or later, though, no matter what their circumstances were.
“Just what is it you want, Beth?” Larkin asked. “What do you hope to accomplish by pointing that gun at me?”
“I’m going to hold you here so Jim can come and get you. He’ll take you to Moultrie, and they’ll decide what to do with you.”
“Look, I want to talk to them, too. You don’t have to threaten me—”
The silo elevator opened. Larkin darted a glance in that direction, saw Susan stepping out. She looked all right, didn’t appear to be hurt in any way.
But then Beth jerked the re
volver toward her and Larkin saw her finger whitening on the trigger. He leaped toward Susan, praying that he could knock her out of the way in time.
The gun in Beth’s hand blasted just as Larkin grabbed Susan and forced her back against the wall. He expected to feel the .38 caliber bullet smash into his back, but instead there was no impact.
When he looked around he saw Beth on her knees, cradling her right hand against her body and sobbing. The gun lay a few feet away. She didn’t look like she was interested in making any attempt to retrieve it.
Crandall picked up the pistol and tucked it behind his belt, then said, “I used the barrel of my rifle and knocked her hand up just in time. May have broken her wrist, though. I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” Larkin told him. “You saved either my life or my wife’s. Thank you, Earl.”
“That shot’s liable to bring more trouble. Where do we need to go?”
Larkin glanced at Susan. “Have you seen Jill?”
“No,” she said. “I was on my way to their place. I didn’t know you were back, Patrick.” She gave him a brief but fierce hug. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. What the hell’s going on down here? How did it all fall apart so fast?”
Susan shook her head. “I don’t know. Jill came by earlier and said that there might be trouble. She told me to stay in the apartment with the door locked and to keep one of your guns handy. Then she left. I tried to do what she said and wait there, but I just couldn’t . . .”
She didn’t know that Jill had been shot, he realized. He was still hoping the wound wasn’t a bad one, so he decided not to say anything just yet.
Instead he took her hand and said, “Let’s go see if we can find her.”
“All right. Patrick . . .?” Susan’s voice held a tentative note. “Who’s this?”
She was looking at Crandall, who smiled back at her.
“A friend,” Larkin said, knowing that would have to be enough of an explanation for now. “Come on.”
Chapter 47
Bailey had tear streaks down her face when she opened the door of the Sinclair family’s living quarters in Corridor One, and seeing that made fear shoot through Larkin’s heart.
“Grandpa!” the girl cried. “Grandma! Mom’s hurt!”
“What?” Susan said. She rushed into the apartment.
When Larkin started to follow her but then hesitated, Crandall said, “Go on, man, don’t worry. I’ll stand watch out here.”
Larkin jerked his head in a curt nod and said, “Thanks.” He hurried after his wife, leaving the door open behind him.
Jill was on the love seat, stretched out as much as she could in its confines, with Trevor kneeling on the floor beside her. Her shirt was pulled up about a foot, revealing a bloody gash in her side where a bullet had plowed a furrow. Despite the blood, Larkin felt a surge of relief go through him. He had seen plenty of wounds like that during his time in combat. They left the victims stiff and sore, but as long as the bleeding wasn’t too bad and the injury was cleaned properly and kept that way, it wasn’t serious.
Just painful as hell, as was evident by the pallor that covered Jill’s pinched face.
“Oh, honey!” Susan cried.
Trevor glanced up. “Thank God you’re here. I think I’ve got the bleeding stopped, but I’m not sure what to do now—”
“Get out of the way,” Susan said, her voice brisk as her training and experience took over. “This is something I know how to deal with.”
Bailey stood to one side, her arm around her little brother’s shoulders. Chris had been crying, too. Larkin went over to them and said, “Don’t worry. Your mom’s going to be just fine. I know what I’m talking about. Anyway, your grandma’s the best nurse in the world, and she’s gonna take good care of your mom.”
“Dad?” Jill said, her voice showing the strain as much as her face did. “Dad, I have to talk to you.”
“No, honey, it can wait—” Susan began.
“No, it can’t,” Jill broke in. “I’m sorry, Mom, but it can’t.”
Larkin went over and knelt beside the love seat. He leaned closer and said, “I’m here, kid. What do you have to tell me?”
“Moultrie’s gone crazy, Dad. He came on the loudspeakers and announced that because of food shortages, half of the people down here would have to leave.” Jill paused and took a couple of deep breaths. Larkin knew she was fighting off the pain of her wound. “Then he started reading off names. He said they had been chosen by lottery, but most of them were people who have complained about him in the past. He’s getting rid of his enemies. Or at least, the people he considers enemies.”
“This so-called food shortage that nobody ever heard of until today . . . is it real?”
Jill shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe nobody knows except him. But it wasn’t just Bullpenners he’s kicking out . . . My name was on the list, and yours was, too.”
Larkin’s jaw clenched. While he’d been up on the surface, fighting to get the things the project needed to keep going, Moultrie had been plotting to get rid of him and his family. Because the power-mad son of a bitch knew he and Jill would never leave without Susan, Trevor, Bailey, and Chris.
“What happened after he made that announcement?”
“Just what you’d expect. Things went nuts. Holdstock led a delegation from the Bullpen up to the Command Center to talk to Moultrie. But some of the security force . . . opened fire on them.” Jill swallowed hard. “Holdstock and another man were killed. The rest of them fell back. When the members of the security force who weren’t on duty heard about that, we went to see what was going on. Some of the Bullpenners who’d been with Holdstock came with us. But when we got there—”
“They started shooting at you, too,” Larkin broke in. His face was grim as he nodded. “Because Moultrie made sure that only guys who would be loyal to him were on duty in the Command Center. He has to have been planning this for a while. And that’s another reason he sent me up to the surface. If I hadn’t volunteered, he would have maneuvered me into it somehow. He knew I’d never go along with this purge crap.”
“Dad . . . how is it up there?”
“We got a whole tanker truck full of gas, plus some parts that will probably work as replacements for the generators. The environmental readings are good enough that people can survive without the hazmat suits, and they ought to be better the farther away from the Metroplex you get.” Larkin shrugged. “It wouldn’t be easy, but there’s at least a chance folks could get away from the worst of the damage and find a place to live. To start over.”
Trevor said, “Then for God’s sake, why don’t we do that?”
Susan said, “But we wouldn’t have medical supplies or a school or even the limited amount of technology we have now. And what would we do for food?”
“We’d have to take some things with us,” Larkin said. “Those medical supplies you mentioned, and enough food to keep us going for a while. As for the technology . . . people used to survive without it. I guess we’d learn how to do that again.”
Looking up at him as her mother finished applying a dressing to the wound, Jill said, “We’d need a leader. That would be you, Dad.”
“I don’t know if I want that sort of responsibility—”
“Whether you want it or not, you know good and well you’re the right man for the job.”
“She’s right, Patrick,” Trevor added.
Susan straightened from what she’d been doing and said, “If you’re really talking about leaving, quite a few people will want to go with you if they think they can live up there. That would solve the problem of not enough food here, wouldn’t it? There’s no need for more violence.”
“If we can get Moultrie to listen to reason.”
Jill said, “I’m not sure we can do that. When he started reading off names and saying they had to go, he sounded sort of, well, unhinged.”
Larkin rubbed his chin and frowned in thought. “And h
e doesn’t know yet what conditions are really like up there, because nobody has reported back to him from our mission. For all he really knows, he would be sending people out to their deaths.”
“He doesn’t care about that,” Jill said. “I told you he’s gone crazy.”
Larkin thought about the people Moultrie had sent to their deaths on top of the service elevator when the surface hatch was closed. Moultrie had been going around the bend for a while, and Larkin knew now he should have spoken up sooner.
But it wasn’t too late to prevent a bloodbath down here. He had to do what he could to accomplish that.
“I’ll go talk to him,” he said as he stood up.
“To Moultrie?” Susan asked.
“Not without me,” Jill said as she started struggling to get to her feet. “I’m coming, too.”
Susan put a hand on her shoulder and said, “No, you’re not. After losing that much blood, you need to rest—”
“But Mom—”
“Listen to your mother,” Larkin said. “She knows what she’s talking about.”
“I’m not six years old!”
“But you are hurt,” Trevor said as he moved in to perch on the arm of the love seat, “and your parents are right. You stay here with your mother.” He glanced at Larkin. “I’ll go with you, Patrick.”
Larkin shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but you need to stay here and keep an eye on things. I’ll feel a lot better about it if you do.”
“I don’t mind helping—”
“That’s how you can help me the most right now.”
Trevor looked like he wanted to argue more, but after a second he shrugged and nodded. “All right. I understand.”
“That guy Earl who came back with me, he’s been living up there. He can explain to Moultrie how things are, if we can get him to listen. And then we can ask for volunteers to come with us. None of that ‘list’ bullcrap. Nobody should be kicked out if they don’t want to go.”
“You’ll never get Moultrie to go along with that,” Jill warned. “He’s using this as an excuse to get rid of people he thinks may give him trouble, either now or in the future. That’s why you and I were on the list, Dad. He knows we won’t stand for him hurting anybody.”
The Doomsday Bunker Page 31