Reset

by Brian Andrews

  The sound of metal scraping on metal emanated from the blast door, and her gaze went to the seam between the leading edge and the doorframe.

  “God help us,” she heard herself say as the door was being undogged from the other side.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Legend whispered, gripping her hand tighter.

  “Yes, I do,” she said, her breath a tremulous, stuttering exhale.

  The electric servo motors suddenly came to life, and the massive blast door began to open. In her peripheral vision, she saw Legend’s hand go instinctively to where the sidearm he’d been wearing had hung, and she heard him mutter a curse as his fingers found nothing but air.

  Josie wasn’t sure what she was going to see on the other side when the door came fully open, and her mind conjured terrible, gruesome imagery of a zombified Michael coming for her . . . but as the second blast door arced open, the husband who stood on the concrete landing beyond looked as handsome and relaxed as she’d ever seen him. She tried to let go of the Major’s hand, ready to turn herself over to her fate, but Legend held her back.

  “Not yet,” he said, tightening his grip.

  As the door continued to swing open, a second figure came into view beside Michael on the landing—the female Army officer whom Josie had seen at Biogentrix, Fischer. Josie saw the woman’s eyes tick to the other blast door, the one behind them across the vestibule, and she immediately knew something was wrong.

  “Run!” Josie yelled, whirling to flee the way they’d come, but it was too late. The first blast door, the one behind them, slammed closed with a resounding thunderclap as the two-thousand-pound slab of metal was driven shut by a massive, powerful spring-loaded actuator.

  “Nooooo!” Josie screamed, and the world shifted into slow motion as her husband and Major Fischer stepped into the vestibule. Behind them, a grinning Willie Barnes appeared, walking up the concrete stairs from the LCC below, the orb floating above his head like a heavenly tongue of fire.

  Legend pulled her behind him. “Put on the helmet,” he said, shielding her with his body. She noticed then, for the first time, just how broad and muscular his shoulders were. She feared for both her husband and her impromptu champion in what looked like the inevitable gladiator match to come. She hoisted Willie’s oversize Faraday helmet up and over her head.

  “Why make this any more difficult than it has to be?” Willie said, stepping into the vestibule and putting his hands on his hips, an old, seasoned ringmaster taking charge of his final circus act.

  “We had a deal,” Legend shouted, backpedaling until he’d forced Josie against the wall.

  “Omnipotence is not bound by covenant,” Michael said and laughed, inching closer.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Sergeant,” Legend said, raising his fists to the ready, “but I will protect Josie, even if that means from you.”

  Michael laughed, and Legend suddenly and violently arched his back, as if some powerful force had just yanked an invisible rope tied around his chest. His arms flew out wide; his head tilted back. A terrible gurgling moan ushered from his gaping mouth. There would be no bare-knuckle brawl, Josie realized. The orb didn’t fight its battles with fists.

  “It’s better if you don’t resist, Legend,” the orb said through Major Fischer. “Trust me on this.”

  “Fuuuuuck yoouuuuuu,” he burbled and then curled forward as if he was about to vomit. He staggered a few feet, then dropped to his hands and knees.

  “And that leaves only one,” Fischer said, her gaze having shifted to Josie. “What am I going to do with you, Josie Pitcher? You think you’re so clever. You think that helmet will protect you.”

  Through the Plexiglas face shield lined with the embedded hexagon wire mesh, she saw Willie step between Michael and Major Fischer. The three of them were closing in on her. She tried to take a step back, but her heel and back hit the wall. There was nowhere left to go. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. No champion left to save her. This was it.

  This was the end.

  The orb’s next words seemed to ooze from Fischer’s mouth like toothpaste squeezed from a tube: “That helmet might be protecting you, but you forgot about someone, didn’t you? Someone precious. Someone vulnerable.”

  A chill ran down Josie’s spine as epiphany struck her. Her hands flew to her belly, instinctively shielding the thirteen-week-old fetus she carried inside. “Don’t you dare touch my baby!” she screamed, her gaze locking on to the floating ball of light moving toward her.

  Her husband grabbed her left arm, his fingers like iron straps around her wrist.

  At the same time, Major Fischer clutched her right wrist.

  Willie sidestepped around Legend, who was still on his hands and knees yowling like some caged, wounded beast. The old man stopped in front of her and smiled. Then, reaching with both hands to the sides of the helmet, he said, “I’d like this back now, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, Willie. Please, please, don’t do this,” she begged, twisting her torso and pulling hard to free her arms as he lifted the Faraday helmet off her shoulders.

  Ants immediately began to crawl inside her head, biting and stinging and wresting control of her mind and body. She heard her disembodied voice scream in agony. And then, as she began to writhe in pain, a miracle happened . . .

  Using Legend as a stool, Willie planted the sole of his boot in the middle of Legend’s back and launched himself into the air. In one graceful arcing motion, he brought the helmet down over the orb, enshrouding it as if netting a hummingbird midhover. He landed with both feet flat and dropped into a deep squat, quickly cinching the drape material at the bottom of the helmet closed.

  The ants in Josie’s head stopped crawling.

  Michael released her left arm, and Fischer dropped her right wrist. Both of them blinked and looked around, the disorientation plain on their faces.

  Legend stopped wailing.

  Then, in unison, all eyes turned to Willie.

  The old Missileer stood up, clutching his prize and nemesis inside a kryptonite cage forged by his own hand. “Run,” he said, spittle flying from his mouth.

  “Willie,” Josie said, stepping toward him. “Let us help you.”

  “You already did, Josie,” he said with a pained smile. “More than you’ll ever know.”

  With his elbow, Willie hit the upper button on a wall-mounted control switch, and electric servo motors whirred to life, opening the vestibule entry door.

  Josie took her husband’s hand.

  Fischer helped Legend to his feet.

  “Thank you, Willie,” she said, meeting their savior’s eyes.

  He gave her a deferential little nod and then shouted, “Now go!”

  And without further debate, they ran . . .

  CHAPTER 49

  As soon as the last of the foursome had disappeared through the gap, Willie hit the red button. The vestibule entry door slammed shut with a satisfying, resounding thud. His mouth curled up into a crooked smile. He’d rehearsed dozens of orb-capture scenarios over the years, but this had not been one of them.

  Thank God for Josie Pitcher, the most foolish, courageous woman he’d ever met.

  He turned and was heading for the silo when the battle for control of his body began.

  I’m going to rip you apart, Willie boy, and when I’m done with you, there’ll be nothing left inside but me.

  William was raging and more powerful than Willie had ever felt before. The doppelgänger seized control of his left hand, and the fingers began to unclench, weakening his grip on the fabric drape.

  “You can’t stop me,” Willie growled and started to run. “I . . . won’t . . . let you.”

  He descended the concrete stairs, past the landing for the level-one LCC, past the landing for the level-two LCC, down to the bottom where the utility tunnel led to the silo. His left hand clawed at his right, trying to pry open the fingers that were holding the orb trapped and impotent inside the magnetically shielded helmet. The
n his left leg began fighting him, refusing to accept the coordinating nerve impulses he needed to run. He fought back, using every muscle at his command to propel his body forward. As he limped through the tunnel toward the silo, dragging his numb left leg, verse tumbled in his mind. Rhyme sputtered from his lips in a manic, angry mumble.

  “And dance in blood, oh what fun. Sins collective eclipse the sum. At Nature’s pyre, her praises sung!” William shouted, his voice echoing in the tunnel.

  “Listen to me, William,” Willie said, wresting control of his voice. “She lied to you.”

  “The world has tipped, the end near come! Reset the balance, or the Devil’s won.”

  “You’ve got it backward, brother. EVE was not sent to help us. She was sent to destroy us. EVE is the devil!”

  “You’re wrong, Willie boy, wrong, wrong, wrong. She was sent to save us from our worst enemy. She was sent to save us from ourselves!”

  Arguing with himself, Willie hobbled through the double blast doors and onto silo level two. Grunting with each step, his body at war with itself, Willie battled his way to the metal railing that ringed the missile bay. He let out a triumphant cry as his right hand ripped the helmet free and clear from his maniacal left and held it out where it could not be reached by disobedient fingers.

  “Down you go,” Willie growled. “Down to join your sister.”

  “Nooooo!” William roared, stealing control of his voice.

  Yes.

  Willie let go of the helmet and watched as it plummeted into the abyss 150 feet below with the orb inside. With his right hand, he pulled the red emergency handle on the yellow box mounted to the railing. For an instant, nothing happened, but then the clever, intricate mousetrap he’d painstakingly built over the past decade worked like falling dominos. Engineered charges popped like firecrackers overhead, chasing along the circumference of the silo, releasing the giant tarp that concealed the 144 storage baskets filled with quicklime. Latches on the hinged storage chambers released, doors swung open, and four metric tons of powdered concrete mix rained down the column. A suffocating, blinding fog of dust enveloped Willie, but he simply closed his eyes and held his breath. A beat later, the sprinklers kicked on, unleashing a torrent of water into the sump below. Fed by the aquaponic beds and fish tanks on levels four, five, and six, the system emptied the proportional volume of water needed to mix with the quicklime and form the orb’s eternal tomb at the bottom of the silo.

  I don’t understand. How did you do it? How did you hide this from me?

  Compartmentalization, Willie answered, rubbing the pendant between thumb and forefinger. Compartmentalization, my brother.

  The human mind was the most complicated, vulnerable, powerful biological computer in the universe. Despite all the understandings gained by neuroscientists and cognition researchers, there were still mysteries yet to be untangled. The orb had fractured his mind, birthed a separate and malevolent consciousness using the machinery of his brain. But the hypnotist had used that same machinery to build a walled garden in his mind. A safe place where Willie could go to think and plan and rest. While William had been busy preparing for the orb’s return, so had Willie. While William built Biogentrix, Willie built the silo, neither one knowing which half of the whole would prevail.

  Today, that question had finally been answered.

  Clutching his pendant, Willie turned his back on the silo and walked to the utility tunnel. Away from the cloud of cement dust, he inhaled a triumphant gasp—an infant’s first breath after being born. And as he walked to the LCC on level two to fetch his journal and chronicle what he had done, the gravity of his victory weighed on him for the first time. Fate had taken him full circle, in Silo Number Nine. The trial had begun here for him over fifty years ago, and it would end here in this fortress, this prison, this tomb.

  Here he was king.

  But he wasn’t free. He wasn’t alone.

  He would never be . . . alone.

  FOUR MONTHS LATER

  CHAPTER 50

  Frederick, Maryland

  Legend watched her sleeping. It had been another rough night for Beth, but she looked peaceful now in dawn’s first light. She lay on her side, her back to him, the blankets fallen down, covering her below the waist. His eyes traced the curves of her naked torso. He couldn’t help himself. He scooted next to her, pressing his chest against her back and spooning his body against hers. She purred and wriggled to get the perfect fit, two bodies made for each other. He pulled the covers up over them, then snaked his left hand over the crest of her hip. He glided his fingers across her smooth, warm skin until his palm settled on her tummy just below her navel.

  She hadn’t told him yet, but he knew. The little things betrayed her: her swelling breasts, changes in her mannerisms, and all the adorable little nesting efforts she’d undertaken in her apartment.

  “Will you marry me?” he whispered, the words taking even him by surprise.

  It was a spur-of-the-moment proposal but not a spur-of-the-moment decision. He’d already bought the ring, but this was not the proposal he’d planned to make. That was supposed to happen at dinner tomorrow night. But it’d just come out. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for her answer.

  When she just lay there motionless, he wondered if she’d fallen back asleep. Maybe she hadn’t heard him. Hopefully she hadn’t heard him and he could still do it right. And just when he resigned himself to the fact that, yes, she was asleep, she turned her head until her chin was at her left shoulder. Her eyes still closed, he watched her lips curl into a lazy glorious smile.

  “Yes,” she said, her eyelids opening tentatively to greet the dawn and her new fiancé.

  He lifted his head off the pillow and kissed the corner of her mouth. She scooted enough to roll onto her back, slipping underneath him as he propped himself onto his elbow and they consummated the proposal with a proper kiss—slow and intimate—a kiss for the record books. When their lips parted, he looked down at her and she up at him.

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you.”

  She smiled at him, but then her expression changed; her forehead knitted in consternation, and her bottom lip began to quiver.

  “What?” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

  Tears rimmed her eyes. “Promise you’ll take care of me. No matter what . . . no matter what happens to me, no matter what I do or say, you have to love me. You have to protect me. You have to take care of me.”

  “Of course I will,” he said, reaching up with his left hand to caress her forehead and cheek. “Did you have the dream again? The one where you’re trapped in that dead forest with the . . . with the flies?”

  Tears were streaming down her face now. “Yes. I don’t know what to do, Legend. I’m scared.”

  “It’s okay,” he said and gently kissed her forehead, her cheek, her mouth. “We’ll get through this. Together. I love you, Beth.”

  With a little wry smile, she said, “You’re going to be a great father.”

  He returned his hand to her tummy and smiled at her. “And you’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

  “Did you know?” she asked.

  “I strongly suspected. Did you know I was going to propose?”

  “I strongly suspected,” she said, gracing him with a beautiful smile.

  “Well, this is one morning in bed that neither one of us will ever forget.” He kissed her lips and then reclined onto his back beside her, both of them staring at the ceiling. After a peaceful, silent moment, he asked, “Have you thought of any names yet?”

  “I have a list going.”

  “Any front-runners?”

  “Yeah . . . Zelda is at the top of my list.”

  He laughed at this and snuggled in next to her. “Good one, sweetie . . . good one.”

  CHAPTER 51

  Watertown, New York

  Josie woke up in bed.

  Alone.

  Again.

  This was th
e fourth time in as many weeks, and it was beginning to fray her nerves. The first time, she’d found Michael in the garage, working with imaginary tools on an imaginary project. The second time, he was standing in the middle of the front yard conversing with the moon in what she later determined was German, a language Michael claimed to have no knowledge of. The third time, he’d been on the computer, logged in to a chat room and dialoguing with someone who called himself—or possibly herself—XRAY2GAR about something called a zero-day exploit. A knot formed in her stomach. Where would she find her sleepwalking husband tonight?

  She checked the alarm clock: 3:33 a.m.

  Same time, every time.

  She pulled the wedge pillow out from beneath her eight-and-a-half-month-pregnant tummy, swung her legs off the side of the bed, and sat up. She felt around for her slippers with her bare feet, found and wiggled her toes into them, and stood up. The floor creaked as she walked, and the creaking seemed a little louder than usual.

  Wonderful . . . Even the floor thinks I’m a whale.

  She stepped out into the hallway and noticed light coming from the kitchen. Her slippers made a whisking sound as she shuffled along the hardwood. If Michael was actually in the kitchen, it would be a first. An image of him wielding a nine-inch carving knife and going to town on some invisible roast made her shiver. After the first post-orb sleepwalking incident, she’d made him buy a gun safe. Only she knew the combination. She’d almost put a lock on the cutlery drawer as well, but she worried how Michael might react to that. Dr. Cryder could not have been more clear when he told her that regaining her trust was Michael’s number-one priority, especially now that he’d been separated from the Army.

  When she reached the doorway, she paused, steeling herself for whatever freak show awaited on the other side. You can do this, Josie, she told herself. He’s not going to hurt you. Despite everything, he’s never tried to hurt you. Slowly, she peeked around the corner.