The ground computer took the information and passed it on to its transmitting station, which matched codes and relayed it to a receiving station in the basement of a house in the Pacific Palisades. The entire process had taken something in the neighborhood of three seconds.
Twelve minutes later, the information was brought to the attention of Diego Mirabal. He read it and made a call to Los Angeles City Engineering, Historical Topography division. He was on the line for the better part of an hour.
His next call was to Wu and was much briefer.
The little man was even paler than usual, but there was an almost beatific smile on his face. Mirabal looked at him carefully before speaking. "You are well," he said. It wasn't a question.
Wu nodded. "You have everything?"
"It's just research now." He paused. "Your final estimation of the drug?"
"It has given me all it can. I have expanded past it."
"And your organization?"
"Fifteen percent of my men have reduced their requests for the drug."
"Good. Operations begin in twelve hours."
He then took the message to a dark room, to a man with unfocused eyes and hands that were sticky to the touch. Mirabal quoted him the contents of the message and smiled as Tomaso Ortega cried with joy.
17. Alpha-Alpha
"Is it time? Aubry and Promise are the ones?"
"Aubry is the one. He's strong enough. If only he can stop relying on his own power. Promise could help him. They need each other so badly. We all need them. There's so little time "
Warrick shuddered and relaxed, and for a moment Mira thought that he was unconscious. Then he clenched his fists tightly. "It hurts. It hurts..."
"Shhh."
"Are ... are the preparations made? Alpha-Alpha is our only real option. Will help—?"
"Kevin. Can't we just leave? Can't we start over again somewhere else?"
"No. It's here and now, or never."
Her brother's body was at peace now, lightly oiled with perspiration. His breathing was easy. "I can't go through it again, Kevin. I'm not a fighter. I never was."
"I've never asked you to betray yourself, Mira, and I won't now. But I can't betray myself, either. Somebody has to draw the line. There has to be somewhere people can go to start over. They've driven us into the sewers. Do we have to find somewhere lower than that?"
"Your mind is made up."
He nodded. "I'll be all right." He levered himself up on his elbows. "There's still work to do. You get some sleep." He switched on a dim light by his bedside and stared at her, through her, in the gloom, the woolly disarray of his hair a scarecrow's crown. His eyes shone. "Go ahead. I'll be all right."
Promise lay quietly. Her breathing was steady, eyes wide in the darkness as she watched Aubry exercise.
Long hours of stretching had reclaimed most of his old flexibility; but this was something different. He gasped, fighting to retain control of his breathing, to turn each tortured gasp into something slow and rhythmic.
Aubry kicked high with his right foot, leaped lightly, then turned so that the left foot glided smoothly through the same arc, pivoted again and again, kicking out each time, the only sound the swish of disturbed air and the quiet tap of his feet changing places on the ground. Again and again, until he was a blur, a human top. Then she could hear his breathing once more. Loud, but rhythmic. When he stopped swirling it was with impossible suddenness, and she gasped.
He turned at the sound and came to the bed, touching her arm. "You're awake?"
"I'm sorry if I disturbed you."
He leaned forward and kissed her. "No. Don't be. It was about you. About us."
She sat up, drawing the covers around her. "What are you talking about?"
He wiped his forehead with his tattered shirt, and sighed. "You know, I used to use working-out as a way to deal with the anger. But there's something else down there now. Something a lot more important. I don't know if I can say it right, but it's like—" He pulled her close, the warmth of her swollen belly against him. "You're all I've ever wanted, and I don't know how long I can have you."
She tried to shush him with a finger, but he brushed the hand away. "I'm not leaving you—"
"It's not up to us. The world doesn't give a damn what we feel or want. Only what we are, and what we do. All the time I spent rolling around in my anger didn't do me any good. Neither did all the time I spent giving you what I felt. Giving you love."
"What in the world are you talking about? That's all I ever wanted."
"No. Feelings aren't things. Unless they're attached to actions, they're just words. I want to give you more than words. More than feelings. I want to give you me."
"I don't know what to say."
He held her tightly, trying to memorize the feel of her body. "Listen to me. Something bad is coming, and I don't know exactly what it is, or when it's coming. But if I never have anything else in this world, I want you."
He kissed her again, longer this time. Then he reached over, turned on the light, and looked directly into Promise's eyes. "I want to marry you. Maybe it's just a ceremony, but I want it. I want to do anything that brings us closer. To let everyone know that we want everything between us that there can possibly be."
"Marry you...?" She turned away, laughing miserably. "Oh, God. I never thought I'd ever hear anyone say that. I never did. And it's not just a ceremony, Aubry. Where I... come from, it was all of the best things in life, but... but it had to be with honor, and I—I just can't."
"Why?"
"Because I have no honor, Aubry. I've violated everything I could have been, and I..." She held him tightly. "Let me have your child, Aubry. Stay with me for as long as you want. Let me stay with you for as long as I can. Maybe the rest of my life. But I—"
"Shut up, woman. We're going to do it, and it's going to be all right. Trust me."
"Oh, Aubry..."
"Promise, we don't have much time. Maybe not enough. But I had to get myself past the anger, to a place where I was clear. Only when I had done that could I see what I had to give. I'm just a man, Promise. A man who loves you. A man who's wasted the first half of his life and doesn't want to waste the rest of it. Who wants to build what he can, while he can. And who wants you with him, every step of the way."
Promise curled up into a ball on the bed, her tears wetting her breathing. But one of her hands reached out for his and grasped it tight.
There was a knock on the door. Aubry pressed her hand again and waited for her to arrange herself under the covers before opening the door.
Warrick was dressed in work fatigues, his gas mask slung at his belt. "Glad you're awake," he said flatly. "We have a cave-in in Q-section, near Sunset and Hill. If the wall gives in any further, we'll be working in a gas pocket."
Aubry nodded, stripping off his shirt, wiping his body with it to blot the sweat, then slipping into his fatigues. "My mask won't be much help. Filter's almost out. Got another cartridge?"
"None that fits your model. Peedja brought his mask, though—and he can work as outside man. Use his."
"Got it." He pulled on his shoes and jacket and ruffled Promise's disarrayed hair. "You think about that, hon."
And they were gone.
"Three of the support beams gave way in a supplemental tunnel. Ruptured one of the air lines." Warrick took a rest from fighting a reluctant block of concrete nearly the size of his own torso. "There may be a crew on the other side I can't find some of my people."
"Too many tunnels," Aubry gasped, heaving at a pipe. He stopped to adjust the light on his helmet. "By the time you made sure that your missing people are really missing, they could be dead. Better to play it safe."
Warrick grinned. "That's the attitude." Aubry wrenched the pipe free and used it as a lever to help with the concrete block. "What is this area?"
"Used to be a storage garage for an antique gasmobile dealership. Top half of it is flooded with rainwater. Bottom level is dry. We've salvaged
motors, converted them—you've seen the carts."
"Converted them to electric?"
"Or methane." Peedja wheeled in a flatbed cart, helping them load the rock onto it. "I don't like the air in here." He sniffed.
"You'll like it less if we're not careful," Warrick said. "A gasoline storage tank ruptured on the other side. This whole area could go up."
Peedja finished putting an expanding support beam into place and began clearing a new section of rubble. Aubry set his mind to the work and ignored him, his attention pulled back only by Peedja's scream of recognition.
"Over here! It looks like a foot!"
"Damned if it's not " Two of the other men rushed forward, bending to the task.
It was already too late. The foot was twisted like a broken toy, totally limp.
"Aubry! We need help!"
"Be right there." There was only room for three to work at any one point, and Warrick stood back watching as they pried loose blocks of rubble, coughing in the resultant dust storm. Aubry clipped his gasmask loosely into place, bending to get his back into the movements.
He turned to Warrick, face grim. "This man is dead. I just hope we—"
That was as far as he got before the explosion. It was a rolling vibration that turned his whole body into a tuning fork. Smoke belched into the tunnel from the far end as a second shudder hit them and the tunnel behind Warrick collapsed. Aubry had a single glimpse of a flailing shape before he was lost under the stone and dust. Any human sounds were dwarfed by the screams of dying stone. Decades-old mortar gave way, and metal pipes exploded from their casings.
Then there was a bright flash of pain, and everything went black.
Aubry coughed dust out of his lungs and rolled over. There was only the dimmest glimmer of light, and when he groped toward it, he discovered that it was his shock helmet, the tiny bulb atop it still glowing feebly. He pulled it to him and put it on. "Warrick?" There was no answer. By moving, he discovered that one of the support beams had collapsed atop him, felt it pressing against his side, and tasted blood in his mouth. Everything else seemed numb. How badly am I hurt? With a terrific heave, he shoved the hollow metal support away, listening to the clang reverberate in the confined space. He dragged himself to a sitting position and checked his legs, finding no obvious damage.
On hands and knees, he crawled around the center of the opening, finding one body, and then another. The first was much too obviously dead, her head crushed by a falling rock. The second he almost left for dead, blood on the face and white bone showing through at the ribs; but Peedja was alive, and groaned to prove it. Aubry peeled Peedja's eyelid back and flashed a light into it. After a moment's hesitation the pupil began to contract. Aubry grunted in satisfaction. "Stay alive, teacher."
There was a rustling sound behind him. He crawled back to find Warrick dragging himself out of the debris. Aubry tried .to help, but the Scavenger leader pushed him away with an unsteady hand. He lay there on the ground for a moment, eyes wide and staring into the dark, then coughed and pulled himself over to Peedja.
"Warrick?" the little man rasped.
The Scavenger leader said nothing, watching Aubry examine their safe-pocket for possible exits. There were none, both ends of the narrow tube pinched by giant fingers.
"Warrick?" The voice was weaker this time.
"Rest yourself, Peedja. Help will come."
Peedja nodded without speaking and closed his eyes again. Aubry stripped the jacket off the dead woman and rolled it into a pillow. "He may have a neck fracture," Warrick said. "Just give me enough thickness to pad his head." He unfolded the roll until it was only three centimeters thick, slipped it under Peedja's head, and left him there. "Concussion, at least. If we try to tunnel out, we can only be sure of burning up whatever oxygen is in this pocket. We'll wait for help from the outside."
"The explosion," Aubry said. "That wasn't the gas pocket."
"No." Warrick folded his legs, leaning back against a wall. "It wasn't."
Aubry lifted the faceplate of his mask. "I do smell gas, though."
"The tunnel has shifted again, and it's leaking. Let's just hope they don't cut their way through with a torch, eh?"
Peedja's breathing had become regular. Aubry stopped watching over him, coming to squat at Warrick's side. Warrick's chest heaved with the same slow regularity as Peedja's.
Try not to waste air, Aubry decided, and sat, crossing his legs, and tried to relax. "I just wish I knew what was happening out there."
"You already know," Warrick said. "That's why you're scared."
"You know, I still have a hell of a time figuring out whether or not you're crazy."
"Stop worrying," Warrick said without opening his eyes. "You already know the answer to that, too."
"Well if I'm so goddamn smart, how come I'm confused all the time?"
"Exactly."
"What?"
"Time. You still believe in time. Just let it go. When time loses its meaning, past and future get a bit muddled."
Aubry gritted his teeth in the dark and settled down, making up his mind to try to relax.
No, dammit, he wouldn't try. He would just do it.
Emil barely looked up from his hydroponic tank when the first explosion shook the complex. "Eh?" He examined a leaf for rot, then tucked it back under the light. "Did you drop something, Promise?"
"No—" She was already starting towards the curtains. "And if anybody did, it was an awfully big something, I'll tell you that." There was a second explosion, louder this time, shaking the room so that a row of vials flopped over and slid free with a crash.
At that Emil sprang up. "Burn it! Can't they ever stop their damned tunneling?"
"I don't remember Warrick talking about opening new tunnels." Her heart began to triphammer as she remembered the expression on Warrick's face, the sober decision of Aubry's plea. "Something is wrong, Emil."
"Yes, yes, I should say so. The least they could do is to warn me ahead of time so I could lash my equipment down." He stopped, changing his thought in midflight. "Now why would they be blasting so close to the living quarters, Promise? Promise?" He looked around the lab, waddling towards the front to part the curtains just in time to see her disappear out the door.
The screaming was so distant and so faint that at first she thought she was hearing things. Then there was the unmistakeable sound of a gunshot, followed by quiet.
With a curiosity that bordered on the hypnotic, she walked down the railway tunnel in the direction of the sounds. Her mind was buzzing with questions, questions that hushed even the rising wave of fear within her. Was it an accident? Or—?
It was then that she saw the first thin tendril of gas. It crept along the floor, heavy as syrup, boiling up when it hit an obstruction, flowing down the gradient of the ancient tunnel. It was a patch of light against the dark, but when she shone her flashlight into it, it sparkled venomous green.
She was frozen by the sight, frozen until the edge of the mist was only ten meters away. She felt her belly tighten. Her hand went automatically to the spot and felt the weight of the life within.
Promise turned and ran. Behind her, the sound of a radio crackled in the fog.
"Emil!" she screamed as she reached the lab. "We're under attack. You've got to—" She turned and looked over her shoulder. The fog was moving more swiftly now, and if she stayed to warn him, she would be caught. She took a halting step in, then turned and ran. Her first responsibility was to the unborn child within her.
She ran, feeling heavier and more awkward than she ever had in her life. She ran along the deserted railway tunnel, tripping over the remains of the ties.
Heads poked out of the various cubbyholes. Some of the Scavengers were already out, and she warned them, "Gas! Get your masks!"
By now the entire area was in an uproar, and the sounds of gunshots were like strings of firecrackers punctuated with echoing screams. She hurried through a branching tunnel— and saw more gas coming in from
the other direction. This time, walking in the cloud, she saw shadowy human forms.
Backtracking quickly, she found the passage that connected the rail tunnel to a narrow serviceway. Her stomach muscles were sore and pulled, and she was exhausted. But she kept going until she smelled clean air on the other side.
There was screaming, and a pair of Scavenger women ran down the tunnel towards her, both carrying guns. She was too breathless to say anything but, "Gas!" They paused just long enough to fasten down their masks, then disappeared around the turn.
When Promise reached her room she searched Aubry's and her own things quickly, finding the gas mask he had left behind. "The filter is bad," she muttered, looking at it carefully, "but if it gives me any time at all ..." She smoothed down her hair and pressed the mask on, fixing the velcro fasteners at the back.
The mask was musty. Its faceplate was clouded, obscuring her vision. She tore it off, polished the shatterproof plastic on her shirt, then donned it again quickly.
How much time was there? What was happening? Where was Aubry? The question stabbed into her like a white-hot needle, and she almost panicked. Then she was calm again, and searched the cubical for a weapon. There didn't seem to be anything there at all—no guns or knives; but there was a length of pipe by the bedside, one which Aubry used to exercise his wrists. She hefted it—it was massively heavy, but she could carry it, and it was much better than nothing.
There was a sound behind her and she swiveled around, club at the ready. With a knee-buckling wave of relief, she recognized Mira. "Thank goodness." They hugged fiercely, and Promise fought the urge to kiss Mira's gas mask. "Where's Aubry?"
"With Kevin. Almost a kilometer from here, and I don't know what's happening on that end." Through the mask, her voice was badly muffled. "Come on—we have to move."
Without another word, Promise followed her into the fog.
They moved away from the creeping green, carefully at first, past the dry living quarters and into the main feed tunnel where rainwater still trickled through the muck. Several other Scavengers, mostly women and children, waited for them there.
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