by Summer Lane
I don’t care.
I follow my instincts, slipping through a narrower vein of the cave. I push farther and farther until I come to a narrow slit of sunlight peeking through a crack in the roof of the cave. Below I see what looks like azure glass.
Water.
The cave is filled with fresh water, accumulated from the rains on the island—and perhaps an underground connection with the sea? I have no idea. I kneel down and slip my fingers into the water. It’s relatively warm, just like the tropical waters that surround the island.
“I say we swim it,” Uriah suggests, stepping beside me.
“It could lead to nothing,” Lani points out.
“It could lead to something,” Haku counters.
“We’ll try it,” Chris says. And of course, that’s the last word.
We leave everything behind, aside from our knives, and I am the first one to slide into the pool of water. I quickly dip my head under the surface to acclimate my whole body, then grin up at Chris as he gets in.
“It’s not bad,” I say.
“You’re learning,” he jokes.
Ah, yes. Nothing fazes a Frogman—Chris glides through the water, more comfortable here than anywhere else. It is something I forget because we are so often landlocked. But here, Chris is in his element.
We swim carefully forward. Chris goes first, beaming a flashlight ahead of us. The water is like a river, stretching into darkness, away from the light. I swallow the fear in my throat and continue swimming. In some places, the roof of the cave is so close to the surface of the water that I have no choice but to hold my breath and hope I can make it to the other side.
Here, the water is shallow enough for me to stand up. I feel the wet rock beneath my fingertips and reach ahead to touch Chris’s shoulder, losing my sense of direction.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Just a little claustrophobic.”
“Well, it looks like the tunnel is ending, so …”
We swim through a narrow passageway and emerge into a large rock room. The water spreads into a deep pool of dark water, and there is an outcropping of stone. I climb onto it, noticing the perfect symmetry of the platform.
“This is manmade,” I observe.
Then, up ahead, I see it.
A pathway—a metal railing leading up toward the light directly ahead of me.
“This is very strange,” Lani remarks. There is fear in her voice.
I follow the light, then climb the stairs up and out of the cavern. We come to a clearing—a natural courtyard, with a minuscule slice in the ceiling, illuminating a foliage-laden natural rotunda blooming with flowers.
“This is beautiful,” I say, impressed. “Wow.”
“I don’t see anything else except for natural beauty.” Devin snorts. “Another dead end.”
In the corner of the clearing, a makeshift ladder is hanging from the top of the cave. I touch it—ropes and wood, in fairly good shape too.
I test my weight on the ladder, then climb. Above, there is just enough room for me to squeeze through the thin opening in the top. I shimmy through, then stop and stare.
“Found it,” I announce.
Built into the lava rock, shrouded by the densest shrubbery I have ever seen, is what appears to be an entrance of some kind—a door? A base? A chain link fence surrounds the entire thing, and a single metal door fronts the building.
“Dang,” Devin exclaims. “Is this Indiana Jones or what?”
The base built into the rock reminds me of Sector 27, but on a much smaller scale.
“How do we get inside?” Haku wonders.
“No idea,” I reply.
Seriously—there is no way to get inside. A thick double door, built into the side of a rock? Yeah, good luck blowing that up with what we’re carrying, let alone doing it without the Ku hearing.
“We’ll have to get in touch with the Admiral,” Chris replies. “There’s no way we’re getting in there on our own.”
Admiral Boyd was right. There is a base on this island. This must be the back door …
I take a step backward.
The door opens.
Shocked, I stare openly at the man standing before me.
I say, “Desmond?”
***
Let’s be real: the odds of seeing anyone again when you’re in the middle of a full-scale apocalypse is slim to none. You lose track of folks, they get killed, and the list of reasons for permanent separation goes on. Desmond was the field medic for my father’s militia group, the Mountain Rangers, the original heart of the rebellion against Omega back in the days of guerilla warfare waged deep in the forest.
Desmond, with his dark skin, long hair threaded with feathers and beads, his always-cool peace-out-dude attitude.
Yet here he stands. Emerging from the bowels of a secret base hidden in Hawaii.
This can’t be real,I think.
“Cassidy Hart!” he exclaims. “Now, there’s a sight to behold.” He looks at us. “Man, no way! Chris Young? Uriah True?”
He is grinning from ear to ear.
I can’t do anything but stand there and stare, confused.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, bewildered.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” he replies.
He walks forward, and he and Uriah embrace.
“It’s been a long time, True,” Desmond says. “You look well. Fierce and dangerous, as always, my friend …”
Dramatic,I think.
He shakes hands with Chris, then comes to me.
“Girl,” he says. “Look at you—you have the eyes of a warrior.”
“Drama queen.” I grin. And I hug him, so overwhelmed to be embracing a friend from long ago—a friend who is still alive.
“I’m begging you to explain what’s going on here,” I say. “How did you find yourself in Hawaii?”
“How did you?” Desmond shrugs. “Come on, I’ll show you everything. It will all be explained.” Then, “Where’s Randall?”
“He’s dead,” Chris replies.
Desmond hangs his head.
“May his soul rest in peace,” he says quietly. “He was a good man.”
Yet, he doesn’t seem shocked to hear this news.
He motions to us, and we tentatively follow him through the massive titanium door.
Inside, a long, metal hallway juts ahead, lit dimly with white lights. The titanium door slams shut behind us, sealing us inside the rock. I can see the wheels turning in Lani’s head. Finally, she comprehends the importance of this mission—the reality of what is likely to be hidden here. The same awe and understanding flickers across Haku’s face, as well.
“We call this place Ohana Base,” Desmond explains. “Ohana means family in Hawaiian—it’s a bit of an inside joke, I guess. The family we’re protecting here isn’t necessarily channeling aloha …”
Randall’s words flash in my mind: Kaumana Caves. Ohana.
Still confused, we follow him down the hall. I inhale the clear scent of recirculated air, and I’m reminded of Sky City. I shiver, and we continue until we come to a large room with bright lighting and tables and chairs.
“The communal rec room,” Desmond says. “There used to be a dozen of us living here, and now … well, there are only two of us left.”
“Who’s we?” Uriah asks.
“Why don’t I show you around?” Desmond suggests. “It might help explain things.”
Behind us, there is a vaulted door clearly marked Weapons Room.Across the hallway, there is another room marked Kitchen. Smaller doors front the walls along the hallway, too.
“Those doors lead into the barracks,” Desmond says. “There aren’t many beds, but this is a very small base, you must understand.”
“What are these for?” Devin asks, pointing to the massive steel doors on each side of the rec room.
“That is the reason you’re here,” Desmond says quietly. “Follow me.”
We do. He unlocks the st
eel door with a swipe of a security card, and we walk into a smaller room with another locked door. He scans his fingerprints and enters a passcode, and the door slides open. We walk into yet a third room—this one a long rectangle in shape, encased with thick glass windows on three sides. Lights flicker on, and a control panel glows softly in front of us.
We slowly trickle inside, and Desmond flicks a switch. Outside the small observation box, lights glow. I gasp, and suddenly it clicks:
Before us are rows and rows of missiles.
“So, there really is a nuke silo?” I mutter.
“That’s a lot of nukes,” Uriah replies.
I do a quick count of the large, slender weapons sitting in neat rows.
Twenty.
“We have a total of forty here at Ohana,” Desmond explains. “Our nuclear family.”
He doesn’t smile.
“So, it’s all true,” Chris remarks. “Boyd’s intel was correct: Project Spire really exists.”
“Let me clear things up for you,” Desmond answers, leaning against the control panel. “This base was constructed long before the Collapse—or so we’ve been told. Nuclear warheads were secretly hidden here by a man named Silas Richter, a man assigned to a top-secret department of the federal government called Project Spire, as you already know. Apparently, the Collapse was anticipated for years by various leaders in our government. They kept this place a secret, moved the weapons here.”
“How’d they get them through the caves?” Devin asks.
“Don’t be ridiculous—they didn’t. You came in through the back door,” Desmond responds. “This place was built when the caves were sealed off for tourists, before the Collapse. Everything is sealed. Once Richter was done moving the weapons here—almost two decades ago—they completely sealed the base and allowed the terrain to overtake the soil above our heads, hiding it from prying eyes. They scrubbed the existing files on this project and handed the information down to a select few, protecting the knowledge of Ohana Base from anyone who might possibly be associated with Omega infiltrators in our own government.”
“So, these nukes have been sitting here for twenty years, in anticipation of World War Three,” I say. “And still, nobody thought of telling the people that live on this planet that an invasion was coming? So many lives could have been saved!”
“It’s complicated,” Desmond sighs.
“So, what are you doing here?” Chris asks.
“I was a field medic for the Rangers, that much is true,” Desmond explains, looking sheepish. “Years ago, I worked in the medical field, so I am a doctor. But I also dabbled a bit in nuclear physics and such, as well—I like to keep things fresh, you know. The militia in California gained intel about these weapons, and they sent me here to protect them, to keep them safe, until a team came to retrieve them—if the war got bad enough.” He exhales. “I suppose it has, otherwise you would not be here. Lieutenant Randall found us first. He left to find a way to contact Admiral Boyd but never returned. I am assuming that you are here on his behalf.”
“I think he was killed by the Ku before he could get a message to Boyd,” I say.
“Where do you get your supplies?” Lani asks.
“We have enough food and water here to last fifty years,” Desmond says. “We never leave the base—the farthest we go is to the bottom of the caves. We can’t risk being found by the Ku. Not that they could break into the base, but our presence here is much more effective if we remain hidden. In that way, there is no chance of Omega discovering what we have here.”
“How long have you been here?” I ask.
“Maybe a year? I don’t remember exactly. How is your father these days, Cassidy?”
“Dead,” I reply, looking away. “KIA.”
Desmond puts a hand to his chest, inhaling sharply.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “Your father … was a good friend of mine.”
I nod.
“Silas Richter is here with me,” Desmond tells us. “But he is very sick. I believe he has cancer, but there is no treatment here for it. For the last several months, I alone have been running this base, waiting for some kind of a signal from the outside world.” He sighs. “Thank God you’re here.”
“Richter?” I echo. “Isn’t he the one who oversaw Project Spire originally?”
“Yes, it’s his pet project.” Desmond sighs. “He’s been here since before the Collapse.”
Desmond looks despondent then. Tired.
I feel sorry for him—being locked in a tin can underground, having no contact with the outside world at all, sitting on a nest of potential nuclear destruction.
“Can we meet him?” Chris asks.
“That would be complicated …” Desmond begins.
“We have other team members,” I interrupt. “They’re waiting for us outside.”
“Bring them in. We don’t have much time,” Desmond replies.
By my calculations, we have only two days until our last-ditch RV evac with Boyd’s forces. We have no radio with which to contact him unless we return to General Hanale’s HQ. I’m not crazy about the idea, considering that it would take us about two days just to walk back, and we’d miss our evac anyway.
We leave the nukes behind and return to the rec room. It’s so sterile here. So quiet.
“Go get the rest of your team,” Desmond encourages.
Desmond opens the front door so that Uriah and Devin can go and retrieve Manny, Vera, and Elle. I sit down on one of the chairs in the rec room, wondering where Silas Richter is. To have come all this way and have our journey culminate here, with Desmond of all people … it seems so strange. I rest my head in hands, and I wait for the others.
Chapter Fifteen
While I’m waiting for the others to come back, Desmond takes Chris, Lani, Haku, and I to see Silas Richter. We walk quietly into one of the barrack rooms, and there he is. He is lying still and pale on a bed, threaded with IVs and fitted with an oxygen mask. His eyes are closed.
He looks to be in his sixties—maybe older.
“He’s comatose,” Desmond explains. “He’s in the final stages of life. I wish I could treat him … but there are no drugs for cancer here, and at this point … well, it’s too late.”
How sad, to die here, alone, without family or friends around you.
We leave the room and return to the rec area.
“You must be lonely,” I say to Desmond.
“I would be lying if I said I don’t want for human companionship at times,” he admits. “This was a difficult mission; the isolation factor was the hardest part. But when the militia asked me to go, knowing my background in nuclear science … I couldn’t refuse. Anything for peace.”
I don’t say it, but I can’t help but scoff at Desmond’s line of thought. A peacenik protecting a den of nuclear weaponry? Ironic.
Uriah returns with Devin, and Desmond opens the steel door. Uriah bursts in.
“We’ve got company,” he says. “Omega company.”
I jump to my feet.
“Where’re the others?” I demand.
“Running,” Devin huffs. “They’re diverting attention from the caves, trying to draw them away from the base.”
I look at Chris, then Lani, then Haku.
“Let’s go,” I say. “Desmond, we’ll be back. Whatever you do—don’t come out.”
He understands.
We leave the base behind, entering the caves again, fighting our way through the water. We grab our weapons, and then burst back into the jungle, looking for traces of Elle and the others. I don’t see them, but I hear footsteps, along with gunshots.
A drone buzzes overhead.
“How are they here?” I gasp, horrified. “They shouldn’t be here!”
“We’ll figure it out later!” Haku suggest. “Let’s just go!”
Before I run, I stop.
“No matter what,” I tell everyone. “Somebody’s got to get to the RV point in Honokaa and tell Boyd abou
t Ohana. No matter what.”
Everyone understands.
We split into teams—Haku with Lani, and Chris with Uriah and me. We dive into the jungle and follow the thread of noise and gunfire. Omega must have been offshore somewhere. Maybe they’ve been on this island all along, and we just didn’t know it …
Whatever the reason, we have to find the others.
“Split!” Chris commands, and I veer right while he goes to the left. We run into the jungle, and I can hear them: Omega. There is no mistaking the sound of their guns or the heavy thump of their boots.
They really are here.
We really are screwed.
Uriah stays with me, as he always does, my right-hand man. We move through the foliage, suddenly stumbling on a detachment of Omega troopers dressed in black, armed with their modern weaponry, wearing their protective helmets.
There are ten of them—maybe—and I can see that they are tracking something. Probably Elle or Manny. When Uriah and I stumble on them, their attention snaps to us, and they fire in our direction.
Severely outnumbered, Uriah and I get a few shots off before we pull back, sprinting away. The detachment turns their full attention to us, shouting orders to each other, giving chase.
We are their new prey.
I push myself faster and faster.
At least we have turned them away from the others.
Chapter Sixteen
I fly through the jungle, pushing myself faster, stopping only briefly to check behind my shoulder and see if they’re gaining on me. I get a flash of a slightly younger—and unhardened—version of myself tearing through the woods in Squaw Valley, struggling to escape Omega’s scouts.
It didn’t work out so well for me back then.
My foot glides through jungle foliage, and I tumble down a steep, muddy embankment. I roll down the hill, unstoppable, bumping and banging against roots and bushes until I reach the bottom, covered in bloody scrapes. I lurch to my feet, gasping for breath, feeling as if the air has been knocked out of me—and I begin to run once more.
I hear a gunshot, but still I do not look back.
I stay focused on the trail in front of me, watching my footing so that I won’t fall again. As I’m moving, flickers of color flash and on both sides of me, and the dawning realization that the scouts are closing in sends a knife through my chest.