They touched the edges of their glasses together and drank. The brandy went down like honey, warm and smooth.
Moses motioned to one of the chairs set up near a warming tower against the chilly night air. “Have a seat.”
Mike was suddenly monstrously tired. He nodded and sat back into comfort and gazed out over the city they were trying to save, together. It was an uphill battle. Some people just didn’t want to be saved. They just kept grabbing all they could, dragging the planet to the edge of disaster as they went along their merry way. The warning signs were everywhere, and they would not see them.
Sometimes Mike wished he had video evidence of the future they were all headed for. This was nothing compared to what was just around the corner.
He looked over at Moses, sitting in his ridiculous ‘jacket’ beside him, his injured arm completely disguised in its design. It really was over the top; something you’d expect out of the Ming Dynasty or something equally bizarre. It was better he’d stayed up here in the penthouse. These costumes he favored would not inspire staid old money to open their wallets to new ideas. Mike asked, “Do you still think we’re making any kind of difference here?”
Moses grinned, his eyes alight with anticipation. “Absolutely. The protests against the DRA’s have stopped. The DRAs are a raging success. Everyone loves them, they’re being built all over the planet, with build teams apprenticing with each unit constructed, learning the technology, ready to share it with even more countries.”
Mike clamped his mouth shut and studied his half full glass as Moses spoke. Moses didn’t know Mike and Cherry had been caught in the Vancouver DRA riot last year.
“Garbage is finding its way off the planet, not covering it. It’s a huge step in the right direction. Next step, poisonous fluids, then gases.”
Mike glanced at him at this—this was new—and drained his glass. Again, warm and smooth. He reached for the bottle and poured a refill. “How do we jettison gases? What would stop them from just circling the planet?”
“Not up to me. We rain enough funds into research, and some wunderkind somewhere will come up with a way. Imagine no more greenhouse gases.”
Mike shrugged. “We could all use a little less H2S.”
“What we need is a way to filter it, separate the harmful from the good and jettison the poisons.”
“Doesn’t that… I mean isn’t there some kind of balance to maintain?”
“What, the planet should breathe in poisoned air? Absolutely not. I believe air purification, on a massive scale, is completely doable. We just need the will to make it happen.”
Mike said, “You’d need a lot more than simply your will to make it happen. On the scale you want, for the type of project it is, getting widespread purification would take more than government policies. We’d need an army to do it. An army we control, not loyal to the government of one country, but to the planet—to Earth. An army free of national alliance.”
Zhang’s eyes widened. “You’re absolutely right.” He stitched his mouth together and gazed out into the night, considering Mike’s words. After a while, he said, “Remember back in the twentieth century, in the sixties, that President? The one who was blown away? He had a core of people doing good things around the planet. It died off, of course, when he died. Imagine what he could have done if he hadn’t been assassinated?”
“You mean Kennedy’s Peace Corp?”
“That’s the one. What if you and I financed a Peace Corp of our own?”
“What? And call them the Protection Corp of the Earth?” Mike sipped on his brandy.
Moses was staring off again, seriously considering. Finally, he said, “No…Protectors of Earth.” He glanced over at Mike. “It’s brilliant. I knew I kept you around for a reason. You’re smart.”
Now Moses was sucking up—Mike knew. This had been his idea, not Mike’s. This was Moses’s version of flattering manipulation… did he really think Mike was that stupid, that he didn’t know what Moses was up to?
“Coru was dead wrong about you.”
Mike’s stomach turned. Coru—the brother he never knew until Moses had told him the truth. He drained his glass once again. Man could his brother play the part.
Moses leaned back and stared up at the sky.
Mike followed suit, the brandy taking over, all the stuffing seeped out of him. Here in the city, not many stars were visible, but there were a few that could compete with the urban glare, lending interest to the dark sky. There was the Big Dipper. The Little Dipper. The Northern Star. If they were out in the country, Mike knew they would be able to see thousands of stars.
The truth was Mike Eggers wasn’t a big deal. Mike Eggers was a tiny speck in this huge universe.
“Back in university, Coru had me completely sold,” Moses mused dreamily.
Mike frowned, landing back on the rooftop in his head. What was Moses spewing now?
“He used to go on and on about Payton being the Wisla favorite. His useless, pampered, chubby little brother who contributed nothing, and who recited obvious platitudes memorized out of textbooks he found in dusty old library stacks.”
Each word slammed into Mike’s chest, blow by blow. Useless. Chubby. Favorite. Pampered. He could barely draw in a breath at the assault. Coru knew nothing of how lonely he’d been, how he’d found solace in the library, found friends in books when there were none in his life. Coru never came around. Coru never included him. Payton was always alone.
Mike made fists, ground his teeth together, fighting the ultimate humiliation—the almost overwhelming need to weep. He’d loved Coru; worshiped his big brother. He dreamed of being like Coru one day—big, strong, confident. A leader. Someone who knew how to make a difference.
Coru had been full of jokes when he came home from Surface, teasing Payton, wrestling with him, letting him win, pretending Payton had bested him. Learning what Coru said behind his back, what had been really happening in his young life slapped him flat, the betrayal stabbing him straight through his wildly pumping heart, pinning him to the seat. Chubby, useless Payton, a bug on a pin, arms and legs waving in the air, powerless.
The world began to spin. He closed his eyes against the sick feeling the sensation gave him. It didn’t help.
“I’m not surprised Coru never showed his face once he got here,” Moses continued on, unaware of the storm raging inside Mike’s heart and mind. “It’s been five years. Surely if he wanted to connect with you, he’d have found a way by now.”
Mike remained silent, fighting to keep from leaping to his feet and storming out—if he could walk in a straight line…. Or keep from tossing his cookies.
“But I’ve come to think of our meeting and partnering up as destiny. I’ve gotten to know you and now I know your brother was full of it. You’re twice the man Coru ever was or ever will be.”
Mike squeezed his eyes shut against the world spinning out of control.
From a distance, he heard brandy being poured into his glass.
CHERRY HEARD the door whisper shut, telling her Mike was finally home. She sat up, turned on the lamp beside her and watched him walk across the living room, her stomach filled with butterflies. She was excited. She was nervous. Her hands were cold and shaking. If their marriage had any hope of surviving, she had to have this out with him tonight. She had to be brave.
“Mike,” she called out when she saw his gaze trained on the bedroom door and his unsteady gait weaving toward it.
He stopped, turned his head slowly in her direction. It took him a moment to recognize her and when he did, he spun abruptly and staggered toward the couch, falling rather than sitting down beside her. He grinned. “Hey, sweetie. Whatcha doin’ still up?”
She hesitated. Maybe now was not the time. “I-I was waiting for you. I wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay. I’m listening.” He reached for her feet, raising them up into his lap and massaged them, like he used to.
It felt good. Normal. Hope bloomed in Cherry’s c
hest. “I was talking with Natalie Granger tonight.”
“Stew’s trophy wife?”
“Come on, Mike, you know it’s not like that. She’s actually very nice. You should try talking to her some time. She helped me tonight. Really helped me.”
“Okay.”
She stared at him, surprised. He was unusually chipper. Moses must have had some good things to say, a surprising twist. So often Mike returned from Zhang Corporation drained, and not in a good way. She really needed to take care of her issues so she could turn her attention to her husband. Talking with Natalie, the conversation had taken an unexpected detour into Natalie’s miscarriage, something not generally known. Natalie had opened Cherry’s eyes. Cherry wasn’t the only one gutted by their son’s death. Watching Mike rub her feet with his warm hands, she felt herself soften toward him further, wishing he’d come home with her rather than kowtowing to Moses. She wished Mike would cut himself off from Moses Zhang, completely. There was something not right about that man. She let her head drift to the back of the couch. “Natalie’s been going to a doctor. He’s helped her a lot. I’m thinking that might help me. You know…” Mike’s hands stilled. “Don’t stop. That feels good.”
Mike didn’t move.
She turned to glance at him and her courage died as his face transformed from amiable to furious. She pulled her feet away, fighting back the impulse to jump up and run from her own husband.
“Are you insane? All you have to do is slip once and the whole Bruce Trenholme thing will be all over the place. Doctors do not have to keep a murder confession under doctor patient privilege.”
She sat up, moved to the edge of the couch. “I’m… I’m not talking about Bruce. I’d never talk about Bruce. You know that!”
He lurched forward, grabbed her by her shoulders with iron hands and shook her—hard. He screamed into her face, “Do I? Do I know my own wife?”
“Wh-what are you t-talking about?” she protested, frightened at his bugging eyes, the spittle that flew from his snarling mouth. She did not know this man! She tried to jerk away and got nowhere, real fear spiking through her. This was a mistake; a horrible mistake. She pleaded, “Please, Mike. You’re hurting me.”
“This is hurting you, is it?” He shook her some more, making her head spin, then grabbed her, wrapped his arms around her body, his arms steel bands she could not escape. “How about this. How about I get to know my wife again? How about that? Right, Cherry? You need some help? I know just what you need.”
“No. No, Mike. Stop. This isn’t right. You’re drunk!” She fought against him, bucking, straining, but her arms were trapped. Crying now, she begged him, “Mike. Please stop this. Please.”
He pressed her back against the soft couch cushions, cementing her in, pressing her down with his body, crushing her. He was so heavy, she could hardly breathe. He twisted suddenly, grasping her wrists, and jerked her hands above her head, wrenching her shoulders.
She screamed, twisted her body. He was out of control. He wasn’t even seeing her now.
He giggled and ran his tongue up the side of her face, a smell of alcohol blasting from his open mouth. “Yummy,” he pronounced in a voice she’d never heard from him before. He was a stranger, and he meant to hurt her in the worst way.
She screamed, tossing her head from side to side, bucked against him, trying to throw him off her.
He laughed. “Chubby hubby wants some yummies.” He laughed some more at this. He pressed his face against her, kissing her all over, no matter how she turned her face away. His eyes were wild. He pulled at her clothes with his free hand, grunting with the effort, giggles forgotten.
“God, no,” she sobbed, “Please don’t. Mike, I beg you.”
He muttered, “It’s time, Cherry. It’s time you acted like my wife.”
16
INDIES: DAY FIVE: WEN 2047
THE FOUR MEN didn’t have the luxury of waiting until darkness fell. They had to cover as much ground as possible as fast as they could.
For hours, Wren sat crouched in the hollow under the tree with her hands on either side of her head, her eyes closed, her scanner cast out, trolling for minds to read. When she heard anything useful to Mattea, Tom, Gary, and Waylon, she relayed it to them through Mattea. This distant, totally thin communication that linked her and Mattea was the only way she could help them work their way to the Pitt River Bridge in the daylight.
She jerked, she gasped, she cringed—running the route with them in her head, ever vigilant.
Coru was privy to the messaging but had no power to help. He could only observe. And feel helpless. Impotent. Seeing what Mattea was seeing, hearing what Wren was hearing had Coru almost jumping out of his own skin.
The POE had only taken over the south side of Hume Park, leaving the north relatively free for Mattea’s team to slip away. But that was just the start. There were pockets of survivors everywhere, and here in the city, there was no appetite to accept a stranger in their midst. Here, they attacked first, asked questions later, only there was never a later. Kill Shot was the name of the game here in New Pacifica Wild.
Coru felt a canteen being pushed into his hand and realized that he too had his eyes shut, was living outside of this little hollow. He opened his eyes to see Nelson’s worried expression.
“Have some water, man. It’s been hours.” Nelson nudged his head toward Wren. “Her too. If she doesn’t take a break soon, she’s going to collapse. Even I can see nobody can keep up this pace.”
Coru drank gratefully, nodded his thanks and moved to crouch beside Wren. “Wren, drink.”
She pushed his hand away impatiently, her brow furrowed. “No! To the left. There’s a camp. You almost… Yes. Go around. Yes. Good…” She fell to mumbling, then was silent, though her face was alive with passing expressions, showing her every thought.
“What can I do?” Nelson almost pleaded. “There’s got to be something I can do while she runs herself into the ground.”
“She’s making sure they get out safely,” Coru defended, his nerves frayed.
Nelson looked appalled at his words. “No! I’m not criticizing. Thank God they have her.” He gazed at Wren with wonder on his face and added softly, “Thank God we have her.”
Coru made himself settle back against the carved-out dirt wall. “Sorry. It’s all…it’s hard to stand by and watch, I know. You can tell me more about the university. How we’re going in, what to expect. That would help.”
Nelson smiled, his eyes lighting up. “That I can do, man. Spent four wasted years there, or so I thought until now. Now those four years may have been the most valuable years I ever spent. I know that place inside out, and I have an ace up my sleeve that will knock your socks off.”
Coru chuckled despite himself. “A lot of socks getting lost around here. I don’t get the reference.”
Nelson was pulling out his maps again. His one eyebrow twitched. “I guess I don’t either. It’s an oldie, but goody.” He smoothed out the map and hunched over it, tracing a circle around a large wooded area that surrounded a collection of buildings, an odd find in a large city that ate up real estate and erected sky scrapers for breakfast.
“Here are the grounds. First—know that SFU is built on top of a mountain. There are protected wooded areas all around the place. What the map doesn’t show you is the sheer drop-off all along the back end, here. People have died here with just one misstep. It’s brutal.”
Coru followed his fingers. “You’re right. It isn’t obvious. It looks like we could walk on through the woods and into a park-like setting all around the university. And it’s big.”
“That’s because there are living quarters, stores, a museum, an elementary school, the whole shebang. It’s a natural set up for Professor Red and his followers. It has it all. Very defendable.” He glanced up at Coru with a wicked grin. “He probably has the park area set up with troops all around. It’s what I would do, and I’m a smart guy.” He winked. “But here’s the thing. M
ost people don’t know this, but I do. Years ago, they began digging a tunnel at the base of the mountain starting here and driving through to the center, here. It was to stop and be linked by a shaft going to the surface just below and short of the Quad.”
Coru leaned in. “The Quad?”
“This building here. It’s a building formation around a man-made pond in the center of the action on the hill. You can’t tell here, but the Quad has no first floor. What would be the ground floor is open, you can walk on through to the other side. Very nice. What would normally be the second floor is up on stilts, kind of. It’s all open underneath. There are only four entrances to get inside the Quad itself, one at each corner, so it’s highly defendable.”
“Why a tunnel?”
“They sank a shaft into the ground—where they were going to build an elevator—down to where the tunnel ended. The thinking was, people not living on the university grounds, mostly students would drive or bus it to this area, then travel by tram through the tunnel under the mountain, then go up inside the mountain to the surface by elevator, just short of the Quad.”
Nelson stopped and gazed up at Coru, waiting.
“Tell me they built that elevator.”
“Nope. Never built it.” Nelson was grinning wickedly.
“What’s your point?”
“It was a money pit—literally. The budget was blown, year after year. Public opinion changed, and they pulled the plug. Blocked off the tunnel; never built the elevators.”
“And?”
“And no one was allowed inside. It wasn’t safe.”
“And…”
“And it turned out I wasn’t such a good boy when I was at school. Whenever me and my buddies had time on our hands, we’d go exploring. As often happens to footloose frat boys, we had a lot of time on our hands…”
Now Coru was grinning. “Tell me more.”
Nelson returned to the map. “So, here’s where the elevator shaft was dropped. There’s a building there, looks like any other, but inside it’s very different. Inside is the shaft, its walls—mostly rock. The entire thing is stable, with a series of ladders secured to the walls. At the bottom of those long ladders is the abandoned tunnel that leads out to here, also blocked off, or so they believe.”
Cursed Apprentice (Earth Survives Book 2) Page 27