by David Meyer
“And for that, they deserve to die?”
“Yes.” His voice turned stern, unyielding. “The world’s most brilliant minds repeatedly trumpet the dangers of climate change. And do you know what people do? They debate celebrity marriages, yap on their phones, and buy things they don’t need. Society is broken, Cy. It deserves everything it gets.”
Did he have a point? Wasn’t mankind pillaging the earth for its own selfish desires? How many computers, television sets, and other baubles did the average person really need anyway?
My gun hand wobbled as I took cover next to the doorframe.
Then again, how much damage did those things really cause? Environmentalists expected others to consume less oil, use less energy, recycle, and only buy certain products. But the overall impact, even for the entire population, was negligible at best.
Maybe doing without certain luxuries wasn’t about improving the environment. Maybe it was about sacrifice. Sacrifice to cleanse perceived sins. But was that really necessary?
I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. All along, I’d hoped to throw Pascal off his game. I’d hoped to distract him.
Instead, he’d distracted me.
Gun drawn, he darted into the reception area. I grabbed his hand.
A small spark lit the air as he fired his weapon.
The shot grazed my side. We struggled for a moment. Our guns came loose and clattered to the floor.
He dove for the guns. Grabbed one and turned around.
I unsheathed my machete. Rearing back, I threw it with all my might.
The blade spun end over end once, then twice, then thrice. It sliced into his upper chest at an awkward angle.
He collapsed, spitting out blood. Twisting his face toward me, I saw shock etched across his visage.
I retrieved my gun. Lifting it high, I swung back to face him. I kept expecting him to rise up, to keep fighting.
But he remained still.
“He’s dead,” Beverly said.
I glanced at the inner doorway. She leaned against the frame, arms crossed and holding her gun in one hand. “You were watching?”
“Only the last bit.”
“Thanks for the help.”
She shrugged. “You didn’t need it.”
Grasping my machete with both hands, I pulled it from Pascal’s corpse. Blood oozed out of the wound, soaking the floor. Although I didn’t like killing people, I felt no remorse for the man.
I hope you rot in hell.
Stooping down, I wiped the blade on his shirt. Then I followed Beverly to the elevator.
“We’re ready.” Graham arched an eyebrow. “What took you so long?”
“I thought you needed time,” I said.
He grinned. “Not that much time.”
Shaking my head, I walked into the elevator. Graham pressed the B button. This time, the doors closed. As the car began to descend into the earth, I kept my pistol at the ready. “Be prepared,” I said. “For anything.”
Chapter 70
“What’s that, Wade?” Hooper held the satphone close to his ear. “I can’t hear you.”
The line clicked. Frowning, Hooper redialed the president’s private number. But all he heard was static. He tried to call the president again. When that failed, he tried calling colleagues as well as close friends. But all he got was static.
“Major Ford.” Hooper stuffed the satphone back into his pocket. “How’s your radio?”
“Lousy,” Ford called from the cockpit. “I can’t raise anyone.”
“Weather interference?”
“Maybe. Or maybe something’s jamming our signals.”
A young, freshly-shaven Delta Force operator named Dexter Harbridge donned his lightweight tactical headset. “Barkin, I need a radio test.”
Cliff Barkin put on his headset. For a few seconds, he spoke quietly into the transmitter.
Harbridge shook his head. “Nothing. Hey Dorsten, call Burger for me.”
Lyle Dorsten grabbed his headset and whispered a few words into the transmitter. “Did you get that?” he asked.
Lee Burger shook his head. “Just static.”
Harbridge pulled the headset from his scalp. “You said this place deals with a lot of data, right? It could be causing interference.”
“Maybe.” Hooper glanced out his window. From his vantage point, the island of Pagan looked like a slab of rock and desert.
“What now?” Ford grunted. “We can’t land without talking to the tower. They need to turn on the lights, make preparations.”
“Oh?” Hooper’s eyes turned steely. “This thing can reach Mach Twelve, but can’t land without assistance?”
“That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.”
“Does it? Because I thought it sounded easy.”
With a wide grin, Ford returned to the controls and continued to direct the aircraft toward the landing strip.
Grant Porvin cleared his throat. “I finished looking through these files, Dexter,” he said in a deep, rumbly voice. “Nothing useful, I’m afraid.”
“Are you sure?” Harbridge asked.
“There are some blueprints of the facility, but they’re definitely pre-build. And there’s no mention of defense systems.”
Hooper’s neck muscles tightened. They still lacked information on Eco-Trek’s defensive capabilities. And the only person who might’ve had such information, namely Secretary Bane, was currently unreachable.
Hooper glanced at the faces of his team members. Their brows were furrowed in thought. Stress lines creased their cheeks.
“Once we hit the ground, expect radio silence,” Harbridge said. “Watch me for hand signals and stick to the plan. Got it?”
His team nodded in unison.
The HyperMax slowed a bit. Hooper angled his vision toward the ground. A long runway stretched across a strip of land. The runway, as well as Eco-Trek’s research station, was sandwiched by two volcanoes.
“What the hell?” Hooper pulled himself close to the window. “Did anyone see that?”
The operators gave him blank looks.
“See what?” Porvin asked.
“The animal. It ran northwest into that tree grove.”
“What kind of animal?”
“I’m not sure.” Hooper shook his head. “It was big though.”
Porvin’s look turned skeptical.
Hooper’s shoulders sagged. God, he was tired. Maybe that explained it. Maybe he was too exhausted to see straight.
“Just be ready for anything once we touch down,” Harbridge said. “Guards, animals, anything. Everyone got that?”
Heads bobbed.
“Last chance,” Ford called from the cockpit. “Say the word and I’ll peel off. We can circle the island, even go somewhere else if you want.”
Harbridge studied the hangar, the runway, and the forest of dead trees. “We’re good. Take us down, Major.”
Ford nodded.
Harbridge shifted his gaze back to his team. “Safeties off, everyone. As soon as the skids halt, we’re out of here. Group One will set up the protection detail. Group Two will spread out and prepare for infiltration.”
Hooper checked and rechecked his gun. Then he pressed his back against the seat. His shirt felt clammy underneath his body armor.
The island seemed to open up as the plane descended into the darkness. The gaps between the trees widened. The edges of the pavement came into view. The research station grew increasingly large.
The wheels thudded against the ground. The HyperMax rolled for a short distance before wrenching to a stop. Then Major Ford threw it into reverse, directing the aircraft to the far end of the runway.
Porvin unlatched the door and thrust it open. Delta Force operators filed outside, quickly and in relative silence. With their guns pointed outward, they separated into two groups. One group ran outward. They formed a loose circle, sticking relatively close to the HyperMax.
The second group hurried past the fi
rst one to the black sand beaches lining either side of the runway. They flattened themselves on the ground.
As Hooper climbed out of the cabin, dust swirled into his face. Clamping his jaw shut, he twisted toward the research station. He knew it was more than just a hangar. It also included offices, bunks, and other areas. Even so, he hadn’t expected it to be so large.
The HyperMax’s engine died off. An uneasy silence spread over the runway.
Major Ford exited the cockpit. He checked his firearm and then lowered himself to the ground.
“Stay here,” Harbridge whispered. “I’ll call you when it’s clear.”
Hooper frowned. “But I can help.”
“Let us do our job. That goes for you, too.” Harbridge glanced at Ford. “I need you here with the plane. If things go bad, we may need to retreat.”
Ford nodded.
Harbridge glanced around, making sure all eyes were on him. Then he waved his hand.
Two men, northwest of the plane, rose to crouching positions. Hugging the ocean, they made their way to the front of Group Two.
Gnats swarmed Hooper’s face, oblivious to his bug spray. Waving them away, he watched Harbridge join Group Two. The operators shifted forward in small groups.
A hissing noise pierced the air. Hooper arched an eyebrow as he tried to identify the noise. Was it the hangar gate? If so, did that mean a drone was about to takeoff? Or maybe land?
The HyperMax was parked at the far end of the runway so he wasn’t worried about a collision. Still, any activity posed a threat to them.
Squinting, he stared through the dust storm. In the distance, he saw the station. The hangar gate was closed.
Sweat beaded up on his forehead. It wasn’t the research station. So, what was causing that hissing noise?
Hooper shifted his gaze. In the darkness, he saw members of Group One crouched on either side of the HyperMax. They stood still.
A buzzing noise grated Hooper’s ears. The air cracked. Metal clicked against pavement.
Shouts erupted from Group Two’s position. Gunfire roared. Hooper watched in rapt fascination as tiny bits of light punctuated the near darkness.
A large shadow swept down the runway. It moved with terrifying speed and agility. Screams rang out. The tiny bits of light blinked away. The sounds of gunfire waned to nothing. And then, in a matter of seconds, the shadow slid back into the waiting darkness.
Hooper’s chest cinched tight. The gnats, which had been so relentless just a minute ago, were nowhere to be seen.
Without a word, Group One eased down the runway. They moved in unison, their guns trained on the darkness.
The buzzing intensified. The temperature increased. A hot metallic scent filled Hooper’s nostrils.
“Something’s wrong.” Major Ford checked his pistol. “I’m going to help them.”
“Harbridge said to stay here,” Hooper replied.
“Don’t worry.” Ford’s face turned hard. “I trained for this.”
Before Hooper could stop him, Major Ford was jogging down the runway. Hooper clenched his gun until his knuckles grew white. But he maintained his position.
Looking ahead, he saw Major Ford stealing up the southeastern side of the runway. The man walked low, shifting a pistol from side to side. Before long, he had slipped into darkness.
The shadow reappeared. It raced down the runway. It looked like a lion, but its movements were far too precise.
The shadow swarmed Group One, leaping on them and smashing them to the ground. Horrified, Hooper shrank backward.
A harsh scream rang out as the shadowy creature gripped Barkin by the leg. With a sudden shift of its head, it hurled the man onto the beach. Then it bounded after him, its claws clicking loudly on the pavement. With a quick leap, it slammed into Barkin. Its head lowered to the man’s chest. The air buzzed.
Blood splattered everywhere.
Hooper took careful aim at the creature. But a sudden burst of light from another gun gave him pause. It illuminated the shadow and he saw the creature’s pipe-filled body and camouflage-colored padding. He saw its precise, yet awkward movements. But most of all he saw its teeth. They were sharp, long, and made of metal. The realization washed over him like a cold shower. The creature wasn’t an animal.
It was a highly advanced quadruped robot.
He shifted his aim, trying to locate the still-screaming Barkin. He was astonished to see the robot didn’t just rely on individual limbs. Instead, it appeared to utilize integrated whole-body motion.
Barkin’s screams died out. Other ones took its place. Hooper was tempted to join the fight. But he knew mere bullets wouldn’t hurt the creature. No, his best bet was to skulk along the runway, searching for survivors and getting them back to the plane.
He darted down the pavement. The giant research station grew larger as he neared it.
“Help … help me.”
A sharp inhalation escaped Hooper’s throat as he noticed Harbridge lying on the edge of the runway. The man had been stomped so hard the impact had actually cracked his body armor. Then the robot had torn through his chest, exposing his organs to the elements.
Hooper hurried to Harbridge. His eyes scanned the man’s body. There was nothing he could do.
“God … it hurts.” Gritting his teeth, Harbridge did his best to keep his organs from spilling out of his body. “Listen—”
“Save your strength,” Hooper said.
“Shut this place down. Do whatever it takes. You … you have to—” Harbridge’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.
And then Hooper was alone.
Chapter 71
The elevator car jolted to a halt. The doors opened wide and I saw a massive room before me. Two enormous glass reservoirs, filled with some kind of thick, swirling substance, occupied the middle of the space. They looked a little like support columns, only they didn’t quite reach the ceiling. Instead, numerous metal pipes completed the journey.
Gawking, I stepped out of the elevator car. The air smelled of disinfectant and plastic. Shifting my gaze, I saw more pipes extending from the reservoirs. They shot backward, clear to the other side of the room, where they vanished into the far wall. It took me a few seconds to realize the far wall was actually a partition, designed to seal off a portion of the room.
“Where is everyone?” Carrie whispered.
Beverly frowned. “Evidently, not here.”
“Do you think they went upstairs for the security briefing?”
“Let’s hope so.”
Using his knife, Graham attacked the access panel. Quickly, he sheared through a bunch of cables, disabling the elevator car.
Pistol at the ready, I paced forward. The twin reservoirs were positioned directly beneath the hangar. As I passed between them, I studied their contents. They contained a grayish substance that swirled around as if it had a life of its own.
CN-46?
I placed a hand on the left tank and felt a sudden chill. Was I staring at the pre-aerosol version of CN-46? The stuff that had killed Lila Grinberg? The stuff that had almost killed us?
I crept to the partition. Numerous oval-shaped windows, covered with thick glass plating, dotted its surface. Looking through one of them, I saw a well-organized cleanroom, bathed in a dull orange-yellow light. Numerous machines filled the interior.
“This must be where they produce CN-46,” Beverly whispered.
“Makes sense.” I looked around. “Damn it. No reliquary.”
She turned her head. “And no prisoners either.”
I stared at the production area for a moment. “Where’s the lab?”
“Lab?”
“If you operated a place like this, wouldn’t you maintain some kind of laboratory? What if you wanted to make adjustments to CN-46?”
Her gaze flitted across the space. “Maybe it’s upstairs.”
I recalled the maps of the facility. “I don’t think so.”
She frowned.
I focused my
thoughts on the basement floor map. It had contained few details. Two large cylinders had represented the reservoirs. The boxed-off area lined up with the production facility. And the box with wavy lines was clearly the elevator.
What am I missing?
A thought snapped into my brain. “The door.”
Beverly looked at me like I was crazy. “What?”
“The basement floor plan showed a door.” I looked at the northeast wall. “Over there.”
“I don’t see anything.”
Mentally, I pictured the door in my head. Then I ran to the wall. After a brief search, I located a thin crack in the concrete. It ran continuously in the shape of a giant oval.
Beverly inspected the concrete. Then she placed her hands on the right end of the oval and gave it a push. The oval’s right side swung inward and its left side swung toward her.
It’s a revolving door.
She shoved harder. The oval revolved another foot and I caught sight of a tube-shaped tunnel, roughly eight feet in diameter. Like the other tube we’d seen, the concrete looked old. But rather than being left in a crumbling state, workers had patched and repaired it in numerous places.
Looking backward, I saw the others had joined us. I lifted a finger to my lips. Then I strode into the dark space. Taking a few steps, I realized the floor ran at a slight incline. I took a few more steps. Then I paused as soft noises filled my ears. They sounded like voices.
Guess we’re not alone after all.
Chapter 72
“Hold it.” Beverly lifted a palm and fell to a knee. Shifting her head, she peered around a slight twist in the tube. “Okay, I see them.”
Overhanging LED lamps, connected by wires, cast dim light across the tube. Unfortunately, there was no way to extinguish them without bringing attention to us. “How many?” I whispered.
She held up four fingers. “Four armed guards,” she mouthed.
“What are they doing?”
“Moving stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Boxes and crates. Looks like they’re clearing out a storage room.”
I unsheathed my machete. “Let’s do this.”
Silently, we crept forward. As we passed through the twisting section, I saw another revolving slab of concrete.