“Thanks,” he said, stuffing the holster into the waistband of his blue jeans.
K.C. pulled her rifle out of Franklin’s hands, causing him to say, “Hey, what do I get to protect myself?”
“You’ve got your piece of pipe. What more do you need?”
“Nuclear missiles would be nice. What about these soldiers you were with? Are there more of them outside the dome?”
“I got a feeling this was the last of them,” she said. “They were dropped by a helicopter that fired those missiles into the city.”
“We saw that,” Millwood said. “I’m kind of surprised the drone-birds didn’t knock that thing out of the air.”
“It makes a reconnaissance mission every few days, but I got the feeling they didn’t have a whole lot of fuel left, and nothing too high-powered to arm it with. It keeps a safe distance. So safe it’s useless.”
“At least somebody’s out there, even if it’s just a lone pilot,” Franklin said.
“We can’t just sit here and wait for somebody to save us,” Millwood said. “We need to bust out of here.”
Franklin looked into the gloomy interior of the building. It had once been a muffler shape, with all sizes of twisted pipes hanging from the walls. Tires were stacked in one corner, and plenty of tools lined a bench along one wall. Evidently one side of the building had contained a series of garage doors, but those had been closed off by a couple of fallen trees. “Any food in here?”
“Nothing good. We raided a snack machine but the junk was all way too stale to eat. We’re down to our last pouch of C-rats.”
“Please don’t mention rats,” Millwood said, and then he related their rodent encounter, softening the tale a bit for Squeak’s benefit.
Franklin was glad to see the girl seemed to be holding up well. After Stephen’s death, Franklin had hardened his heart and vowed to make no new attachments. Then K.C. came back into his life, along with Squeak, and then Marina died in a horrible creature attack. He supposed hope and pain would alternate for whatever few days, months, or years remained to him. In the meantime, he’d help K.C. protect the girl to the last breath.
“You said you got away from the Zap robots,” Franklin said. “Why didn’t they chase you? Seems like they’re advanced enough to easily track you down.”
“They reached the boundary over there where the alloy ends,” K.C. said. “Then they stopped. Like they couldn’t come onto the dirt and had to stick to their part of the city. They waited for a while and then turned and left.”
“So they’re connected, like I figured,” Franklin said. “It’s all part of one big organic system.”
“What does that mean?” K.C. asked, looking like she wanted to cover Squeak’s ears.
“The city’s alive,” Millwood said.
As they stood outside the concrete building warily watching the city, Franklin described the underground factory they’d seen, at least as best he could given the bizarre nature of the mechanisms. He sounded crazed even to himself—without Millwood as a corroborating witness, he could easily believe he’d imagined the whole thing. “I think that’s where they’ll take the people they captured,” he said.
“Will the Zaps hurt them?” Squeak asked.
“Probably, honey,” Franklin said.
K.C. shot him a stern look, but he added, “Let’s keep it real, okay? It may not be much, but this is the only reality we’ve got.”
“What do we do, then?” K.C. asked. “If we stay here, eventually that silver stuff will creep this way and cover the neighborhood. And those Zaps will be back.”
“We’ve got one advantage,” Franklin said. “We can go on their turf but they can’t come on ours.”
K.C. shook her head at his bravado. “We’re stuck under a mutant bubble like bugs in a jar, and still you find a way to pretend you’re free.”
“You didn’t talk like that when we were in Wings of Eagles.” Franklin’s reference to their younger days spent with the patriot movement made him feel even older than before. “But I guess all those patriots are dead now.”
“But their silver tide just keeps pushing,” Millwood said. “Staying here is a waiting game. Besides, why don’t they just send out their drone-birds to pick us off?”
“I’ve got a few theories on that,” Franklin said. “But I’m just spit-balling it. Obviously the rules are screwed up. But I think the city’s powered by telepathy. Or, I guess, psychokinesis is the proper way to put it—controlling matter with their minds.”
“Like that Israeli guy who used to bend spoons just by thinking about it,” K.C. said. “I always thought he was a spy.”
“That was a fake,” Millwood said. “I read about that. He was using magic tricks.”
“Was he a Zap?” asked Squeak, who in her innocence had deftly framed the subject against their present circumstances. The girl had never really known the world of before, having been a toddler when the solar storms hit. She was lucky she hadn’t turned, or she might be one of those Zap babies in the tower.
“No,” Franklin said. “But Kokona is our magician. She’s manipulating this entire city with two other Zap babies, and she’s forcing Rachel to help her.”
K.C. slapped the magazine of her M16. “No problem, then. Find the brat and blow her head off.”
“That’s where my theory comes in. The city’s grown so large they’re having a hard time holding the whole thing together. I can only imagine the mental power required to run this place. Taking on too much at once is probably too risky. That’s probably why the Zaps turned back instead of waiting for you, and why the Conglomerate hasn’t sent out drone-birds.”
“Conglomerate?” K.C. asked. “Do I want to know?”
“That’s what they call themselves. The three babies and their carriers. And they’re not going to be easy to reach, since they’re up in the tower, and they’re the ones who have the buttons to the elevator.”
“Then maybe we can just shoot the carriers. Find a good sniper position.”
“You’re a good shot,” Franklin said. “But you said yourself that bullets are useless against the robots. Same with this mutant metal stuff. And the glass in the tower. A bullet won’t penetrate.”
“Besides,” Millwood said. “If you go shooting Rachel, DeVontay might take it personally.”
“Me, too,” Franklin said. “She’s my granddaughter.”
“So how do we get to Kokona, then?” Millwood asked.
“There’s always the tunnel,” Franklin said, drawing a groan of anguish from Millwood. “Crawl back to the prison bunker and either cut our way out or just sit and wait until the Zaps come and then blow them away. Enter the city from below.”
“You just said I couldn’t kill robots with bullets,” K.C. said.
“There are a few regular Zaps around,” Franklin said. “I guess Kokona’s still making the logistical shift over to robots, but in the meantime there are some tasks that only living Zaps can perform.”
Franklin wanted to tell her about the savage Zaps floating in the factory vats, but the information wouldn’t help her. It was pretty clear the Conglomerate wanted to squeeze the life juices out of every living creature under the dome and ground all signs of human civilization to powder. Soon enough, only automated things would prowl the city, functioning for the benefit of the Conglomerate. Three Zap babies ruling their private utopia while the world outside choked its way to a slow death.
“I don’t like that plan,” Millwood said, undoubtedly worried about encountering more rats in the tunnels. “What if we just head straight downtown, reach the tower, and then figure it out?”
“We’re on their home territory in that scenario,” K.C. said. “And unless you have some trick for getting inside those buildings without doors, then we’re going to be real easy to pick off or round up.”
“Maybe getting captured again is the best approach,” Franklin said. “They still have some use for us, obviously, or they would’ve immediately killed us all.”
“You’re assuming we’re even that important to them. Maybe we really are like bugs in their eyes, pests to be ignored until we start showing up in the cake flour. Besides, that was President Murray’s plan, and it didn’t work out so well.”
“And I just escaped a few hours ago,” Millwood said. “I’m not ready to go right back behind bars. I haven’t even seen my parole officer.”
Franklin scanned the dome through the window. Jagged streaks of lightning crawled across the transparent blue curve. “If we could somehow knock out their power, then they’d be vulnerable. They run the city with their minds, but it’s fueled by plasma.”
“Well, if I can find the other end of the electrical cord, I’ll just unplug the city,” Millwood said. Blood stained the bandage wrapped around his injured arm, but the bleeding appeared to have stopped. He pulled out his rumpled pack of cigarettes and asked K.C., “You got a light?”
“Smoking’s bad for you,” Squeak said.
“Yeah, kid, so is getting munched on by monster robots, but I’ll take my chances.”
“Don’t be a jerk,” K.C. scolded, but she fished a box of wooden matches from her pants pocket and passed it to Millwood. As he lit his Marlboro, Franklin watched the thread of gray-blue smoke wend its way up toward the top of the dome.
“Millwood, you might be on to something,” he said.
“What? Lung cancer?”
“No. Pulling the plug. Kokona sabotaged the plasma sink in Wilkesboro to destroy the city and everybody in it, including the mutants. Why can’t we do the same thing here? I’ll bet that enclosed plasma sink in the factory has a ton of pent-up energy flowing through it. If we can hit that with everything we’ve got—”
“But even if that worked, we’d all be killed in the process,” K.C. said.
“Yeah. There’s that.”
They all looked up at the never-ending shimmer of the aurora overhead, imagining the mighty dome crashing down upon them.
“I’m not afraid,” Squeak said, and K.C. wrapped her in a firm hug.
“I am, honey,” Franklin said. “But I’m more afraid of doing nothing.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The metal arm that probed up through the square in the floor was lethargic and slow, but maddeningly persistent.
Murray and Delores were able to evade its probing, since it seemed to be “blind” as it felt its way slowly across the floor. With the portal allowing light to flood up from the factory below, the mutant tentacle was easy to see.
But the building that imprisoned them offered no escape. The walls were solid and ran all the way up into darkness on all four sides, with not a single feature or doorway. Murray understood the walls operated through some organic, non-mechanical process, and if Kokona or another mutant baby was capable of remote control of such a place, then the Zaps were way too powerful to oppose.
But you already knew that. You just want to end this on your terms—with the human race closing the curtain.
She couldn’t end the world until she saved herself, though. She was also responsible for Delores, who appeared to be in a shallow state of shock. Through unspoken agreement, they’d kept to separate ends of the building so the arm was unlikely to grab one of them while reaching for the other.
They couldn’t play this deadly game of tag forever, though. They were both already exhausted from the tension and their long ordeal of survival, and soon they’d weaken from thirst and hunger. Maybe they could take turns sleeping while the other stood guard, but that would lead to no sleep at all—you’d have to be awakened each time the arm came near.
“How are you holding up, Private Simms?” she called. She’d reverted to the formal military salutation to help Delores stay focused. Despite the woman’s earlier rebellion, she now seemed to accept Murray’s authority.
“Not so good,” the soldier muttered. Her eyes were hollow and face blanched by the watery light.
“We’re going to be fine. Notice how the arm is moving more slowly?”
Murray hadn’t believed it when she’d first observed the phenomenon, but the lethargy was undeniable. She speculated on a dozen reasons, including the settling of night reducing the amount of plasma and the open vat of blood finally emptied and no longer providing nourishment.
“It’s still going to get us. I don’t want to die like Lonnie did.”
“You’re not going to die,” Murray said. “Stay with me.”
The woman wailed in despair. “I don’t want to die in heeeeeeeeeere.”
“Keep your shit together, Private. This isn’t about you. You’re a resource of the Earth Zero Initiative. Your duty is to give yourself to the defeat of the Zaps. You and I don’t matter one damned bit in the grand scheme of things.”
The soldier, squatting near the corner, stood slowly as the tentacle raked across the floor twenty feet from her. Its metal tip was blunt and rounded but was actually a series of thin, articulated pincers curled into a ball. As the tentacle neared, the finger-like pincers opened and flexed.
“Move to your left, Private,” Murray commanded.
The woman was disoriented, initially moving closer to the corner where she would be trapped. Murray called again, breaking her from her trance. She seemed to be concentrating entirely on the pincers, as if their lithe motion was hypnotizing her.
When the metal fingers were only a few feet away and Delores still didn’t respond, Murray raced around the square portal and gave the tentacle a kick. It immediately turned toward her and hovered in the air, leaping forward a few feet like a striking cobra. The sudden lunge caught Murray by surprise and she nearly hopped backward and came dangerously near the opening.
She glanced down and behind her into the mad, churning factory. The platform still hung in place from where Lonnie had been plucked and harvested, seemingly suspended by four thin but undoubtedly strong wires. She’d had no way to pull Lonnie up, but what about going down rather than coming up?
It was a leap of faith, but it was a chance. If only she could get Delores to join her.
“We can escape, Private,” she said, even as the tentacle made another grasp for her, the thin fingers clacking together in the pungent air. “I know a way out.”
Delores looked around at the walls for the twentieth time. “Where?”
“Come and take my hand,” she said, tracking the perimeter of the square until she was opposite the tentacle again. While the metallic arm didn’t seem to be able to see, it had reacted to her kick, so it must’ve operated through some sort of tactile system. Since the Zap robots had pilfered their pockets, she had nothing to throw at it, so she removed one of her boots.
Delores reluctantly crossed the floor to join her. Murray took her hand and said, “I don’t want that thing grabbing us when it feels us moving. When I throw this boot, we’ll jump through the hole down to that platform.”
Delores’s lip quivered. “I can’t go there. I saw what happened to Lonnie!”
Murray nearly slapped her, but that would probably send the woman into hysterics. Instead, she said, “You have a duty, soldier. You’re a human, and humans win. Now, go!”
Murray flung the boot at the arm and then shoved Delores. The boot bounced off the arm and it went lunging after its perceived attacker while Murray and Delores plummeted to the platform ten feet below. Murray landed in a half-crouch, her hands slapping against the alloy. Delores, who was two decades younger, landed with more grace, but she was already panicking over the sheer scale of the manufacturing process.
As Murray suspected, the platform began lifting up to seal itself into the floor again, and the arm was already retracting. She glanced at the vat where Lonnie had been pureed and saw—and smelled—that it was still half full. She wondered how many other people had been ground into red slurry to infuse the composite alloy.
“One more jump,” Murray said, tugging on Delores to keep her from freezing up. The chaos of the operation dazzled her. From above, she’d viewed only a suggestion of the
scale and activity of the facility, but now she was overwhelmed by the many tubes, vats, whirring arms, collection devices, and mechanisms so bizarre she couldn’t compare them to anything manmade.
At first she thought the lean, naked figures in a series of tanks along the far wall were humans. Then she realized they were Zaps, likely collected from the savages that had attacked them in Winston-Salem. The facility offered little available floor space, since the apparently automated processes required no tending or maintenance. The clatter and rumble were as intense as a physical pounding, adding to her disorientation.
“I can’t do it,” Delores said, and this time Murray did slap her. The blow stung her palm but Delores snapped her head around, eyes wide as if surprised to see Murray standing there. Murray gave her no chance to respond, seizing her wrist and pulling her off the lip of the platform.
They landed hard on a narrow stretch of alloy fifteen feet below. Murray’s bootless foot folded at the ankle, sending red flares of pain spiking up her leg. Delores lost her balance and fell backwards, where a multi-armed machine fabricated thin metal threads and wove them into a lumpy shape. Delores got caught in the busy series of arms, her uniform shirt punched with a constellation of tiny holes. Blood oozed from some of them, but Murray plucked the private free before she was pulled to her death.
The near-death experience brought Delores back to alertness. “How do we get out of here?”
“There.” Murray pointed to a narrow aperture in the wall, roughly the size of a closet door. Through it stood a volume of solid darkness. She had no way to guess what lie inside—Pick a door, any door!—but Delores was already sprinting toward it, dodging and weaving between the many machines.
Murray limped after her but almost immediately came to a veritable battalion of Zap robots. They stood in long ranks, five deep against the wall. As Murray’s adrenalin kicked in, she realized they hadn’t moved. Then she noticed their faces were blank and featureless.
Crucible: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Next Book 5) Page 9