New Alcatraz (Book 2): Golden Dawn

by Grant Pies

  I quickly retrieved several of the plastic restraints hooked to the general’s belt. I zipped them tight around Sheldon’s wrists and ankles. As I stood up, I pushed an open hand on the top of Sheldon’s head and drove his face into the cement floor. I zipped restraints around the unconscious Moore, and then unplugged the ancient cords from each of the phones on the wall, just in case they were able to crawl and reach them.

  I wiped the blood from the knife, folded it back into the casing, stashed the device back in the bag, and swung it over my shoulder.

  As I locked the door to the comm. center behind me, I regretted not killing Sheldon, either for what he had done or what he could do. It didn’t matter.

  CHAPTER 59

  2075

  BUCKLEY AIR FORCE BASE

  I stumbled down the tunnels. Every right turn I took to get to the comm. center was now a left. Each left a right. Fifty paces. Then one hundred. The blood from my chest soaked into my clothes, but the black TDA uniform hid any substantial color change. The cloth was tacky and stuck to my skin. The sharp pain was like hot water pouring over a fresh sunburn. The strap from the messenger bag holding the mind transfer device rubbed and chaffed against my fresh wound. I gripped the phone cords from the comm. center in my hand, and I tossed them into the first trashcan I saw on my way back to Vesa, Doc, and Whitman. I couldn’t risk Moore or Sheldon simply plugging them back in if they got themselves free.

  Each time I passed another agent or soldier, I held my breath and walked as straight as I could, pushing my shoulders back, and trying to keep my eyes from darting around. Some of them simply walked by with little thought. Others glanced at me with a ponderous look, but not enough to stop and ask any questions. Most figured if I was here then I belonged here.

  The path back to where I left my group became clearer the more I walked. Landmarks in the tunnels became familiar. I recognized distinctive scuffmarks on the walls, and cracks in the floor that spread along under my feet. Eventually the colored lines all merged back together and led to the main entrance of the underground base. I knew I was close.

  Once I reached the cell where Whitman was housed, I saw Vesa and Doc standing in the hall next to the two other guards who had their hands gripped around their rifles. I had never been so happy to be reunited with anyone. Doc turned his head to see me coming before anyone else saw me. He nudged Vesa with one hand while pulling his pistol out with the other. He kept the gun at his side and pulled the hammer back. He must have seen the wound on my chest, and the panicked look in my eyes. Vesa turned. Her eyes widened, and panic washed over her face. She held back a gasp, and turned to survey the reaction of both guards. Luckily they had yet to see me, but that would change any second.

  Doc stepped to the side of one of the guards and pressed his gun straight into the man’s back. I saw him whisper something close to his ear. The guard let go of his rifle so it hung around his body on the sling. The other guard saw me coming, and he too knew something wasn’t right. He started to bring his rifle up to point at me, but Doc pointed his pistol at the man’s head. In one swift movement he wrapped his free arm around the first guard’s throat, slipped his rifle off of his body, and still managed to point his weapon at the second guard. He held onto the one guard and controlled his movements, while keeping his gun trained squarely between the eyes of the other guard.

  “What the fuck happened?” Vesa asked as soon as I made it within earshot. I ignored her question and addressed the guard that Doc didn’t have a hold of.

  “Open the door,” I ordered and picked up the guard’s rifle from the floor. “Open it!” The steel was cold, like it had never been used.

  The guard blinked repeatedly and shuffled to the door. After fumbling with the keys for a brief moment, he opened the door. I pushed the guard in, and Whitman stood up. His face was as still as ever. No shock or surprise.

  “Let’s go!” I shouted.

  “Wait! What’s going on, Powell?” Vesa asked, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Where’s the general?”

  “He’s alive,” I answered. “We need to move if we’re going to charge this thing.”

  The mission hadn’t changed. In fact, it was all that was left. We had played our hand, and we had no choice but to see this through. Doc shoved the second guard into the room without any prompting. He took the second rifle and handed it to Vesa. She accepted the rifle, but still locked her eyes on me.

  “We are fucked. You know that, right?” she asked.

  I took the guard’s keys, slammed the door shut, and locked them inside. My chest throbbed, and I felt the blood begin to dry on my clothes. The wound peeled open with each move I made. The four of us stood in the tunnels and waited for gunfire. We waited for shouts and commands, but nothing happened. At least not yet.

  “This way,” I said and pointed at the black line on the floor.

  We walked swiftly along the line. Doc glanced behind us every few paces. Whitman’s stride was smooth and mechanical. It looked like he glided across the floor, like the linen-clad members of the Golden Dawn. Vesa followed us, but panicked, not exactly willing. She had nowhere else to go. She wouldn’t make it out on her own if she tried to flee the base.

  A lone guard walked toward us down the tunnel. His hand flew to the pistol strapped to his thigh.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “Where are you going?”

  He pulled the pistol from its holster, but before he raised it above his waist, his chest exploded and a spray of blood shot out behind him. His body fell backwards in a limp pile of flesh. Doc held his gun straight in front of him, smoke spiraling from the barrel.

  “Jesus!” Vesa shouted.

  Whitman kept walking without missing a beat. He surveyed the tunnels, like he was looking for more guards or a place to hide the body.

  “We are dead,” Vesa said to no one in particular. “Dead.”

  “What did you expect, Vesa?” Doc said. “This was never going to be easy. It was never going to go according to plan. We all knew that.”

  The red lights overhead started to flash and spin inside their metal cages. A shrill alarm sounded throughout the tunnels. Whitman ran his hand along the wall of the tunnel and glanced at the ceiling.

  “We have to keep going,” I told all of them, but Doc didn’t move.

  “I don’t think we’re all going to make it to power this thing up,” Doc said as he loaded a single bullet into his revolver to replace the one he just fired. “None of us will make it unless someone stays here to hold the hoard of government thugs that are going to come spilling down this tunnel.”

  “He’s right,” Whitman said from down the tunnel. He had opened an electrical box on the wall, and was already pulling wires out and flipping switches. “If someone can help me, I can plug into this data point. I’ll be able to integrate myself with the security systems of the base. I can access cameras to see where people are coming from. I can send false alarms that will send troops to the wrong location on the base. It’ll buy us time. I just need one of you to protect me from any guards that come by. I won’t be able to move.”

  I walked over to Whitman. The look in his eyes was serious, like there was no way to convince him to not do this.

  “I’ll stay with him,” Doc said. “You two go get this thing charged and get your asses back here.” Doc looked at Vesa and smiled. Vesa just shook her head and mouthed the words ‘no,’ like there wasn’t enough energy in her to push them out.

  “And what happens when they catch on? What happens when you and Doc are overrun by Ministry troops or Wayfield’s agents?”

  Doc held a firm grip on the wooden handle of his pistol. “I’m a survivor. If that happens, I’ll get outta here, and meet all of you back at the motel.” Doc reached out and squeezed Vesa’s shoulder, and Vesa placed her hand on top of Doc’s. “Don’t worry,” he said to Vesa. “You know how hard I am to get rid of.” He smirked at Vesa.

  I turned back to Whitman, hoping for a more serious answer.

&nbs
p; “There is a door just down the tunnel. When it gets too much for Doc to hold back, he can take that exit. It runs straight to the edge of the property and exits above ground far off base. GPS, Powell, remember?” he said and tapped his head in response to my confused expression. “I have been scanning this place since we got inside. Sending out sonar signals and mapping everything out. That exit will get Doc out of here, assuming he leaves when he is supposed to.”

  Doc simply smiled, and for a brief moment I saw that he was masking the slightest bit of fear.

  “And you, what about you?” I asked.

  “They will likely catch me. But after I plug into their system, who knows what will become of ‘me’. Who knows where I will go. Just like a human, I have a mind and a body. My mind will work its way into their systems here at the base.” Whitman nodded. “But they will take my body. They will dismantle it and store me somewhere deep underground. There’s no swapping out my body this time.”

  The alarm continued to pound against the walls. The lights flashed. The radio attached to the dead soldier on the floor came to life. Voices chattered on the other end dispatching all available troops to our location. Words like ‘breach’ and ‘intruders’ jumped out of the small radio.

  “I had an extra five years, thanks to Vesa and her brother. I have been working on this device for that entire time, and even years before that. Don’t stop now. You two need to charge that device, and get out of here. Follow the black line until you reach the fusion charging stations. Wayfield’s wireless charging capabilities aren’t as advanced as the Golden Dawn’s, so you will need to get close to the charging station. But you will know when you are close. You will know when it is charged.” Whitman nodded down at the device. “Just watch for the bars to light up.”

  Whitman pulled one wire out of the electrical box on the wall. He reached and, before I could protest, grabbed the knife I held in my hand, flipping the blade out effortlessly, and running the shiny weapon vertically down his wrist. His synthetic skin flapped open to reveal a mess of metal, computer chips, and wires. He ran the knife down the wire from the wall to remove the casing and reveal the orange copper inside.

  “Doc, get ready to shoot,” Whitman said. He never broke his focus on me and Vesa. “Just saying thanks to both of you will never show how grateful I am for what you have done. You have both tried your hardest, so I could retain my freedom. Maybe it’s simply my destiny to be powered down and dismantled. Maybe I’m meant to end up beneath the Denver airport. Maybe that is where I’ll end up. Who knows, maybe those were my nanobots and DNA you injected yourself with in the future. Maybe part of me is in you as we speak.” Whitman smiled at me. “Good luck.”

  He shoved the exposed wires deep into one of the chips in his exposed arm. His body immediately went limp, like he was powered down. Within a second, there was chatter on the dead man’s radio misstating the intruders’ position was in the housing wing. Whitman was already hard at work to buy us time.

  CHAPTER 60

  5280

  NEW ALCATRAZ

  Ransom’s heartbeat thudded with a deep and rich sound that he was sure any person nearby could hear, and his body stopped with a stillness he had only felt at the end of the days that he spent chopping down timber. It was a stillness from wind and movement. A stillness from dirt or snow beating against his face. The stillness he felt was always atmospheric, but now it was inside of him. It was a feeling that came with a realization, one that he had feared since his father left him for this godforsaken vault. The realization that he could only count on himself. That even his family either had or had yet to abandon him. It was appropriate that he would feel such a stillness in a place as empty and abandoned as this underground tomb.

  “The sheep,” Ransom said. His strong voice bounced off the solid walls. In the distance, he and Merit both heard more men roaming the tunnels. No lights were in sight. “You said there was no way I could have known my son would climb into the sheep pen.” His fists clenched and his teeth ground together. He felt the blood in his mouth coat his teeth. Merit turned to look at him. Even in the darkness, Ransom could tell that all the color was drained from Merit’s skin.

  “Gray passed out before he could talk to anyone.”

  Merit backed away, but didn’t turn his back on his brother.

  “The night Tannyn died. The night I killed Tannyn,” Ransom said, “he mumbled in his sleep. His guilty conscience seeped out in his dreams. He mumbled about cornering my son. He winced and curled into a tight ball as he described forcing Gray to handle a sheep’s pelt. He knew what really happened to Gray, because he was there. He knew how Gray became sick. He knew it was from the sheep.” Ransom took two more large steps toward Merit. Merit’s lip quivered, and he stumbled backward. He raised his hand out toward Ransom.

  “How did you know about the sheep, brother?” Ransom asked, but he already knew the answer. It was sad to him that he hadn’t realized this sooner.

  Merit ran his shaking hands through his hair and gripped his skull. “We had to come here, Ransom. We had to! We were running out of everything there. Food, shelter, water. There are only so many holes we can dig into the earth. There are only so many huts we can build and trees we can chop down.” Their father’s words leaving Merit’s mouth like he had swallowed them and held them in since they left on this journey. They were pleas that meant nothing. Merit knew it was pointless.

  “Why!” Ransom shouted. His words surely reached the crazed cannibals that were hunting them down. “Why! It was my son, Merit! My son!” He stepped toward Merit, shoving him to the ground and kicking him hard in his side. Merit scurried away down the hall.

  “It was for the greater good. It was to force you to come here. Force you to bring us.”

  A shrill shriek rolled through the tunnels. Ransom walked swiftly toward his brother and away from the noise.

  “Was it worth it?” Ransom held his hands out. “Was it worth my son’s life, Ash’s life, and even Tannyn’s life to find this place? Was it worth all of that just to find this?” Ransom held his hands out as the cries from the vault dwellers screeched from some place deep in the tunnels. “Maybe we were better off when this place was just a story we told each other.”

  “We didn’t know it would kill anyone. You have to believe me.” Merit climbed to his feet, wincing in pain and holding his side where Ransom had kicked him. “When we showed Gray the sheep’s pelt, Higgs hadn’t died yet. He hadn’t even gotten that sick yet. We didn’t know it was fatal. I swear it, Ransom. I swear! It was too selfish to keep everyone held back there. If this didn’t happen now, while Tannyn and I controlled it, it would have happened another time. It was inevitable!”

  “How exactly are you ‘controlling’ anything right now? You had no idea what this sickness would do. You didn’t care!”

  Ransom swung his fist into Merit’s jaw. A sharp smacking noise of bone crashing against bone emanated upon contact. He landed three more quick punches into Merit’s stomach. Merit fell forward into his brother, and grabbed Ransom’s ear, pulling it until Ransom stopped punching him. Ransom let out a short scream. Merit kicked his brother in the same knee that one of the crazed men had kicked. Ransom collapsed to the ground.

  Ransom reached out and grabbed Merit’s foot, and yanked him to the ground. They pulled hair and drove their knees into each other’s chests. They kicked and rolled down the hallway, neither brother ever truly winning the fight. They wrapped their hands around each other’s throats and bent each other’s fingers back until they cracked or snapped. They breathed heavily, grunting and screaming in pain. Their cries began to sound more and more like the men who pursued them. If one brother ever made it to his feet, he was instantly pulled or slammed back down onto the cold hard cement by the other. By now they had lost any trace of the colored lines on the floor except for the white line leading to the armory.

  With each punch, the two brothers moved slower. Where their arms had sped through the air before, now the merel
y floated. They barely moved fast enough to make any contact at all, much less cause any pain. But neither brother wanted to give up. Merit fought for his life, and Ransom fought for something else. He let the anger that had been building up since he was a child leave his body. He fought for revenge, but he also fought against the deep regret he felt for spending his whole life as an angry man. The two brothers stumbled against the wall. Merit fell against a heavy door. The force of his body pushed the thick door inward, revealing a large room.

  The white line ran straight into the room. The word ‘ARMORY’ was painted on the door, but much of the paint had chipped off decades ago. On the walls were rows of the same rifles that Merit and Ransom carried on their backs. In the corners were large boxes filled with other objects they knew nothing about. Many of the walls and shelves were bare, but most of the weapons remained in place from centuries ago. Knives and hatchets hung on a wall to the left of the door. The brothers slumped down onto the floor, their backs pressing against the wall. They stared at the weaponry.

  Ransom held his face in his hands and started to cry. He had given up the thought that he would find any medicine in this place; much less get it back to his son in time. He wondered if it would be better to just never return. His thoughts quickly turned to his wife. He thought that if he did not return, no one would ever know why this disease overcame Gray.

  “I’m not going to kill you like I killed Tannyn,” Ransom said, looking at his brother through a blur of tears. His body was too weak to continue to fight. By the looks of Merit, he too was unable to fight anymore. “I’ll beat you within an inch of your life, though. Then I’ll drag you back home, and have you face what you did. You will look at Aurora and explain that you killed her son. We’ll have a trial where you can offer up your bullshit reasoning for what you did, because you and I both know you will only look worse if you try to justify killing a child. Then you will face your punishment. But it doesn’t matter what that punishment is. I don’t care what the village decides for you. After all of that is done, I’ll kill you.”