“What’s inside the door?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Wouldn’t you?” he says, huffing.
A half hour later, we get lucky. An old man in a white lab coat shuffles up to the door and punches in his code without even looking down at the keypad. I’m sure he’s done it ten thousand times by now. We wait ten minutes until he comes out again, and then we wait another ten just to be sure he isn’t coming back before we sneak up to the door. I bend down and look at the keypad. Of the nine possible numbers, 3, 4, 5, and 7 have been wiped free of their tobacco-dust coating. It doesn’t tell the code, but now I have it narrowed down to 24 possible combinations of these four numbers. I try the easy one first: 3457. Nothing. I reverse it: 7543. This could take a while. On my fifteenth try, I get it: 5734—the door slides open.
Jimmy and I step inside and walk past the window looking in on the atomic diffusion machines, their lasers building silicon computer chips now and dropping them on the conveyor belt. The door at the end of the hall is unlocked, and we enter the dark munitions room. I head to the far wall and look over the canisters of chemicals.
“This is what we need,” I say, turning around. I stop when I see Jimmy standing at a table with a silver missile in his hand. “Jimmy?” He doesn’t answer. I step over and lay my hand on his shoulder. “I know,” I say, “I feel it, too. I’m sorry.”
He sets the missile down, his trance broken.
“What?”
“I said I’m sorry.”
“No,” he says, “ya said you’s found what we need.”
“Yeah, over here.” I lead him to the stack of canisters and point to the white lettering—
POTASSIUM PERMANGANATE.
“Ya know I cain’t read,” he says.
“My dad called them Condy’s Crystals,” I say. “We used them underground for treating our water.”
“Treatin’ water? What good’s that do us?”
“That’s not all they do,” I say, righting one of the canisters and screwing off the lid. “You mix this stuff with glycerin and you got yourself a rocket to the moon.”
“Is that glycerin over there?” Jimmy points to the glowing vault marked ANTIMATTER.
“No, that’s not glycerin.”
Jimmy eyes the blue pulsing window.
“Well, what is it?”
“You don’t wanna know.”
“Well, is there glycerin somewhere else here?”
“Not here, no. But the pool at Eden is filled with it. And probably glucose, too. I figure if we dump enough of these potassium crystals in there, we’ll start a chemical reaction that will light the whole thing up and free the brains.”
“Like the funeral fire?”
“Just like the funeral fire.”
We exit the munitions room carrying two canisters each, one on either shoulder. We pass through the courtyard with its hologram starscape hovering over the fountain, and creep past the scaffolding on the scientists’ living quarters. Everything is eerily quiet. We pass under the archway onto the main path, and I lead Jimmy to the door that I burst out of just yesterday after watching them kill my father. We step over my dry puke, still visible on the ground.
I lower one of my canisters, freeing my hand, and look for the keypad but there isn’t one.
“Great,” I say, frustrated. “Just great. What’s that word your dad used to say? Pisscrap?”
Jimmy sets down one of his canisters, reaches out, and pulls the door open. He smirks at me as we shoulder our loads again and walk through the door into Eden.
CHAPTER 38
You’re Free Now
The lights are dim, the hallway empty.
When we reach the control room, I crack the door and peek in. The room is dark, the workstations deserted. The LCD display is still on and the killing chair sits eerily empty.
We step inside and close the door quietly behind us.
Jimmy walks to the window and looks out over the pool.
“What the hell is it?” he says, almost to himself.
“Hell is exactly what it is,” I say, carrying my canisters to the door that leads onto the catwalk around the pool, setting them down, and examining the latch.
Jimmy joins me.
“What’s the plan?”
“When we step through this door, it’s gonna be way cold. We won’t have much time.”
“How cold?”
“Twenty below.”
“How cold’s that?”
“Remember the mountain?”
“How could I forget?”
“Much colder than that.”
Jimmy straightens, cradling his canisters.
“Whataya waitin’ for?” he says. “Load me up and lead the way. Let’s do this.”
I stack my canisters on top of his, only his eyes showing above the load. Grabbing the lever, I unseal the door. A blast of cold air hits my face, my breath smokes in the red light from the pool. I push the door open and step out onto the catwalk.
Jimmy steps past me, and I close the door and seal it with the lever on the inside. We shimmy left, away from the door, away from the window. I take the canisters one at a time from Jimmy’s arms and set them upright on the catwalk.
“This is some kind of cold,” Jimmy says, shivering.
“I know it,” I say, my teeth chattering already.
Together, we screw the lids off the canisters. I look over the rail at the red, pulsing water below. I see shadows of hoses and wires that look like sea kelp with brains floating at their ends, and I’m reminded of Jimmy’s family on that bloody day in that bloody cove.
“Okay, we have to dump it fast—”
Jimmy taps me on the shoulder. I turn and see why …
The lights are on in the control room. We press ourselves against the wall and watch. Nobody comes to the window, but I see shadows playing on the glass. Minutes go by. My body shivers violently; I clench my teeth to stop the chatter clacking in my skull. My hands shake, my legs too. I know from biology lessons that my hypothalamus is taking over now, pulling blood from my extremities and regulating my core temperature. I look at Jimmy and see his nose is turning blue, his lips, too. His eyes are wide with fear. I feel dizzy, like I’m suffocating, and when I take a deep breath, the subzero air bites my lungs.
Still the shadows move in the control room …
Jimmy’s legs buckle, straighten again. I grab him and hold him upright, sharing our body heat, watching the window over his shoulder. Finally, the light snaps off and the window is dark again. I shake Jimmy from his stupor. He looks confused, then he pulls his shirt off over his head.
“I’m hot,” he says.
“You’re not hot,” I say, pulling his shirt back down before he can get it off. “You’re hypothermic. I need you to focus. Do what I do. Okay? Come on, pal, I can’t do this without you.”
Jimmy’s eyes refocus, his mind coming back. He nods. We grab a canister each and balance them against the catwalk rail.
“Do it fast,” I say, my voice feeble and shaking. “Then the other canister, then we hit the door.”
We tip the canisters, but nothing comes out.
I tip mine back and look inside. The potassium crystals are clumped together in the cold, forming a kind of lid. I reach in and break the crystals free with my frozen hand. Quick now, all four canisters. We tip them again and the potassium pours out, mixing into a black cloud and landing in the pool.
We set the empty canisters down, grab the others, tip them into the pool too, smoke already rising from red bubbles there.
I love you, Mom, I love you, Dad. You’re free now.
We run to the door, but the door won’t budge. I check the lever, push again—nothing. I slam my shoulder against it, but it holds solid. I turn to Jimmy in a panic.
“The door’s locked!”
Jimmy tries it—no luck.
“Whoever was in there must have bolted it from inside.”
I look into the pool for one mome
nt and see a bright-blue flame dancing on the water’s red surface. I rush back and grab two empty canisters, handing one to Jimmy. I bash the canister against the control room glass. Jimmy steps up and joins me. My hands are freezing, but adrenalin pushes away the pain. One two, one two—we smash at the glass in unison. I see a flash of white, a giant ball of flame reflected on the glass. Jimmy panics, hammers wildly against the glass, his canister bouncing free from his hand and falling into the pool with a splash. He runs back for another. I hammer on. A small crack appears. Another whack and it spiders larger. Jimmy beside me now, hitting the weak spot with me. Heat on my neck, the fireball growing, the cracking glass, sizzling chemical flames, potassium smoke, the water bubbling already in a boil. I pull back for one last mighty whack. The explosion shockwave rips the canister from my hand and shatters the glass and throws me through it.
I come to on the floor, flames licking against the broken window. Jimmy is slumped over the workstation desk, half in, half out. I jump to my feet and pull him into the control room, away from the fire. His ear is bleeding, his cheek cut.
I shake him conscious.
“We gotta go now, buddy.”
His head lolls, lifts, lolls again.
“Can you walk?”
Arm in arm, we exit the control room and limp down the hall, shaking from adrenaline, shaking from the cold.
Outside, in the red cavern glow again, we jog toward the dock, hoping we won’t be seen. I hear doors banging, voices shouting. A siren begins to wail. We scamper down the dock, step aboard the boat, and crawl down into the dark hull. I pull the panel closed and snuggle into the far corner with Jimmy.
“We did it,” he says, his voice loud, his breathing labored.
“Keep it down,” I say, “I think you blew out your ear.”
“You’s flew out of here?”
“You blew out your ear.”
“Oh,” he says, lowering his voice a little. “But we did it. Sure as that siren out there, we did it.”
It sounds like he’s laughing, but then I realize he’s actually crying. I take him in my arms, and rock him in the dark.
“We sure did, buddy. We sure did.”
CHAPTER 39
You Got a Better Plan?
“Fire,” Jimmy moans. “Hellfire run.”
I clamp my hand on his mouth. “Shh … you’re okay.”
The boat is moving fast, the bow tilted high. Other than the rhythmic sound of the hull slapping the water, we ride the rest of the way in silence. The boat slows, the bow drops, and I hear Hannah calling out from the dock:
“Daddy! Oh, hurry, Daddy! Mom’s not well.”
The boat stops, the step plate folds out.
“What is it, honey?” Dr. Radcliffe asks, panic in his voice.
“She won’t wake up, Daddy. Come quick.”
The boat rocks violently as he jumps out. I crack the panel and watch him stride up the dock toward the house, Hannah running ahead of him waving for him to come faster. When they’re both inside, I slide the panel free.
“Come on, Jimmy. Let’s hustle.”
Jimmy crawls out after me, squinting in the light. He looks terrible. Dried blood in his hair, a garish gash on his cheek, one eye swollen shut. I appear to be unscathed, other than both my hands stained brown from digging the potassium crystals free.
“What’ll we do now?” Jimmy asks, peeking over the side of the boat at the house.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say.
“Ya mean out of the boat, or out of here here?”
“I mean out of here here,” I say. “The whole place.”
“What about Hannah?”
My heart hurts, my head drops.
“Maybe we’ll come back for her later,” I say, not really believing I’ll ever get the chance. “When things settle down, maybe. See if she wants to leave.”
“Well, ya wanna go in for any supplies?”
“Nah … it’s too risky.”
I cross my arms and look longingly at the house, knowing we need to leave, but not really wanting to. Jimmy eyes me.
“Sure ya wanna leave?”
“We have to.”
“Okay,” he says, “I know this must be hard for ya, so I’ll make the plan. Let’s beat feet for the gate and get out of here. We’ll stop at Gloria’s, grab grub and my gear, pick up Junior. Then we can follow the river out until we’re safe away.”
“Then what?”
“We’ll make camp for the night.”
“And what will we do after that?”
“I dunno,” he says, irritated. “You got a better plan?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, realizing I’m being a jerk. “It’s a good plan. Anything’s better than sitting here waiting for Doctor Evil to come back. Can you run? On three. One, two, three.”
We scramble off the boat and run for it. Jimmy’s limping pretty good, so I slow down to keep his pace. When we get to the gate, it’s unlocked, as always. We step out, close the wooden door, and hustle along shore toward Gloria’s. The afternoon is quiet, the lake calm, and it feels funny to be running. Almost as if we’re playing some game and there isn’t really anything to be frightened of. And what are we frightened of? An old man and his sick wife? Then it hits me, what we’ve done. Or what we haven’t done. We haven’t solved anything by destroying Eden.
“What is it?” Jimmy asks, stopping and turning around.
I realize I’m standing still, my feet planted on the ground.
“It’s her, ain’t it?”
“It isn’t her.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I’ve gotta go back, Jimmy.”
He kicks a rock into the lake.
“I knew it was her.”
“It’s not her.”
“Well, what is it then?”
“We destroyed Eden, but now what? Next month another train of retirees comes up. And what will they do with them? Slaughter them is what they’ll do.” Then I remember the safe room and the switches. “They’ll slaughter them if Dr. Radcliffe hasn’t drowned them all first.”
Jimmy bends over and picks up a stick. He flexes it in his hands, looking back over my shoulder toward the lake house.
“What are ya sayin’?”
“I’m saying think about the Park Service.”
“What about ‘em?”
“They’ll just keep on killing people, won’t they? I mean, they’ll even be hunting us once we leave this lake.”
Jimmy snaps the stick in two and looks at it in his hands, weighing the halves.
“Whataya wanna do?”
“I don’t know,” I say, pulling at my hair as if an idea might be hiding there. “We go back and buy some time, I guess. Try to get that doomsday key away from Radcliffe.”
“Ya dun’ think he’ll suspect us blowin’ up Eden?”
“He might suspect something if I don’t show up soon. But he didn’t seem to know we were his hidden cargo, and there’s no other way down there, so how could it be us?”
“So yer jus’ gonna go back like nothin’ happened?”
“That’s the plan.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Go clean up and lay low,” I say. “Wait.”
“Lay low and wait for what?”
“I’ll need your help taking over when the time comes.”
“Yer crazy, man,” he says, “straight crazy.”
“Maybe so,” I say. “You in or out?”
“I like ya crazy.”
“Does that mean you’re in?”
“I’m in,” he says, tossing both sticks in the lake. “But jus’ for the record, yer plan ain’t no better’n mine was.”
CHAPTER 40
Why is Courage Wasted on the Young?
The door is cracked.
I stop in the dim blade of light dividing the dark hall and check my appearance, smoothing my rumpled shirt, running my fingers through my hair. My hands are stained a deep shade of potassium brown, clearly visible
in the low light. I stuff them in my pockets, nudge the door open, and step into the room.
The bedroom is large, soft carpet, thick curtains drawn tight, an incandescent lamp burning low beside a massive bed, and it smells of mothballs and iodine. I see them gathered there around her bed, already in some sad vigil. Mrs. Radcliffe lies propped up on pillows, her eyes closed, her arms resting at her sides. Dr. Radcliffe sits on the edge of the bed, Hannah sits next to him with her head buried in her hands, the soft light on her red hair giving her the appearance of Mrs. Radcliffe’s ghost mourning her own passing. And for a moment, I think she might be dead. But then I see Gloria, standing beside the bed inspecting a silver thermometer in the lamplight.
“Still running a fever,” she says.
She dips a towel in a bucket of ice water, rings it out, and lays it across Mrs. Radcliffe’s brow, slapping Dr. Radcliffe’s hand away from his wife’s cheek.
“Give the poor woman a little breathing room.”
Dr. Radcliffe opens his mouth to say something to her, but stops short when he sees me. His face hardens. He says:
“Where have you been, young man?”
I stand in the doorway with my hands in my pockets.
“Where have I been?”
“It’s not a difficult question,” he says.
“Daddy,” Hannah says, pushing his knee. “Not now.”
“Eden was destroyed in a fire this morning. Sabotaged. I’d like to know just where Aubrey was when it was set.”
Hannah turns to me, drilling into me with those green eyes through the slits of narrowed lids. She appears to be thinking, deciding something. Then, without looking away, she says:
“Well, Aubrey couldn’t have had anything to do with it because he was here with me all day.”
Gloria glances at Hannah, a confused look on her face.
I decide to act surprised.
“Did you say destroyed by fire?”
Dr. Radcliffe looks from me to Hannah and back again.
“It’s served its purpose anyway,” he says. “We don’t need Eden anymore. Let’s talk about this another time.”
“Served its purpose?” I say. “You mean you plan to let the retirees live when they come up?”
“I said let’s talk about this another time.”
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