“I want to hear it from Jett,” Evans said.
“He’s dead,” Compton said. “I’m in command now, and I’m saying there’s no way out of here without Prophet.”
Evans believed her. He had never trusted Woolman, but neither did he care if he got back. Prophet had killed him long ago, so it didn’t matter if the hip unit worked or not. He had no life to go back to.
Reaching around the generator, he fired a few rounds, trying to catch them by surprise. Compton fired back, and Evans hunkered down behind the steel of the generator. Then he felt Prophet in his mind, feeling around, touching his thoughts.
“Do you know who this is?”
“I know,” Evans said.
“Listen to your shipmate. She’s giving you the gospel.”
“You burned me,” Evans said. “You turned me into a monster.”
“You were a monster long before we touched you with the cleansing fire. You came to kill; the Devil’s wolf among the lambs of God. Do unto others as you would have others do unto you, it says in the Bible. If we had treated you as you treated us, we would have killed you. But we showed you the mercy you would have denied us. We left you your life so you would have a chance to repent and to carry the message of salvation to the world.”
“You left me nothing but pain. Now I’m going to destroy your little kingdom,” Evans said.
“You don’t want to destroy the generator. You don’t want to hurt us!”
Prophet was in his mind, poking into places he had no business going, setting off sensations and memories, creating a swirling cerebral storm. Through the buzz, Evans realized that he had to act soon if he was going to succeed. He stood, keeping his head low; his back ached, his hand throbbed. He could feel Prophet in his head, pulling on his feelings, trying to create loyalty where there had been none before.
“The serpent beguiled Eve, and she ate of the tree of knowledge. Then Eve beguiled Adam and he, too, ate. Don’t play the role of the serpent, Robin. The serpent of the Garden lies in the center of the lake of fire and he is calling to you. Don’t listen to him. God has given us the gift of eternal life, an eternity to prepare ourselves to return to the world. We are nearly ready, Robin, and God has given us the means to build a new Christian nation that none will dare attack. We have their superweapons, Robin, and they shall be the rock on which we build this new nation. Join us, Robin, answer God’s call.”
Evans slapped his injured hand against the side of the generator, the pain helping to shut out Prophet’s seductive voice. Then he concentrated, summoning his special power, hoping that Prophet was too full of himself to sense what was coming.
“No matter how far we stray, God always gives us choices, Robin. He gave the world Jesus, and they rejected him. Now you have to choose between the lake of fire and eternal life in God’s service. You don’t want to hurt us, Robin! You don’t want to destroy the generators!”
“Like hell I don’t!” Evans said.
Standing, Evans released his power, sending an invisible wall over the top of the generator. Compton was there—her legs were knocked out from under her, her shots fired wild. Two bolts and a spear were launched, sailing over his head. Dropping his gun to dangle from the connecting cable, Evans grabbed the plastic plate in his good hand, braced his foot against the generator, and yanked the plate from the bomb, releasing the acid.
In a few minutes Pot of Gold would lose its protective field.
ESCAPE
Cobb was formidable—a large man with long greasy hair, coal black eyes, and arms as thick as Wes’s thighs. Silhouetted against the opaque nothingness of the edge of this strange world, he had an overpowering physical presence even without his ability to generate electricity. Cobb generated a charge that paralyzed first and then killed. Standing near the stern of the Nimitz, Cobb was singlehandedly keeping the captives from escaping. Monica, Roberto, and Elizabeth in Dawson’s body were lying on the deck, knocked down by a charge from Cobb. Ralph was behind Wes, still holding one of the guards, while the bodies of the other guards were scattered on the deck. Wes was taking Cobb’s torture now; he was being slowly electrocuted. His only hope was Nathan Jett, who was up and running toward Cobb.
Cobb broke off his attack when Jett started his barefoot charge across the deck. Still wracked with pain, Wes watched Cobb bring his arms around toward Jett. Cobb weighed fifty pounds more than Jett, but he was fast, too. He swung his arms around and released another charge at Jett. Sparks arced between the deck and Jett’s bare feet as he ran and rammed the bear-sized man at full speed. The two of them went down, enveloped in a crackling light show as bright as arc welding.
Wes hurried to check on the others. Roberto and Monica were dazed, just getting muscle control back. Elizabeth, in Dawson’s body, was awake.
“Elizabeth? Are you still here?” Wes said.
“Yes, Wes,” Elizabeth replied with Dawson’s voice.
“Are you hurt?”
“My legs are burned,” she said. “Anita’s are, too. What I felt, she felt. She’s in shock.”
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Monica said, urging the others on.
Jett and Cobb were locked in an electric brawl, Jett keeping his body tight against Cobb’s. Electricity discharged from their entwined bodies in all directions. Roberto and Wes were anxious to help, but found no way to penetrate the electric barrage.
“Let’s get Ralph,” Wes said.
“Can I let him go now?” Ralph asked as they approached. “He said he would be good.”
“Where’s the gun?” Roberto demanded.
“I don’t know,” the guard said, his eyes darting from face to face.
Roberto pressed his knife against the man’s throat, the tip drawing a drop of blood.
“It’s in the captain’s quarters,” the guard said.
“Show us, then we let you go,” Roberto told him.
Ralph released the man to Roberto, who turned him around and held the knife to his kidney.
“Show me where the gun is,” Roberto said.
The Crazy led Roberto toward the island on the starboard side of the ship.
“Nate’s in trouble, Wes,” Ralph said. “We gots to help him.”
Ralph started forward, but Wes held him back.
“There’s nothing we can do, Ralph.”
Jett and Cobb were locked so tight that the close body blows and head butts did little damage. Each man struggled to get a choke hold on the other, but both were experienced and blocked each other’s moves.
Suddenly there was a loud crack as Cobb and Jett were separated, Jett landing on his back, Cobb on his knees. Now, with three feet between them, Cobb could use his power effectively. Jett rolled, trying to touch his bare feet to the deck before he took the charge. Cobb respected Jett’s abilities by now, and wasn’t going to give Jett the time. Cobb’s hands were up and the charge was starting to flow into Jett.
Wes spotted the crossbow he had dropped. There was no time to find the bolts, so in desperation he threw the weapon at Cobb. Seeing the weapon coming, Cobb deflected it with a flick of his hand. In that moment Jett kicked Cobb in the face; his bare foot landed with a loud smack. Stunned, Cobb swung reflexively, forgetting to use his power. Jett’s next blow came from a fist to the side of Cobb’s face. Cobb reeled. Now Jett’s blows rained fast and furious. Cobb could do little but protect his face while he tried to stand. Jett circled, pounding first one kidney and then the other. Dizzy from pain, Cobb staggered to his feet and reached out, sending arcs of electricity randomly. Jett stood his ground, pounding away at the kidneys, taking occasional jolts with only a grimace. Then, taking a kick to the back of his knee, Cobb was down again, and Jett was on his back, arm snaking around his neck. Wes knew how the fight would end now. Ralph and Anita didn’t need to see it.
“Ralph, take us where Roberto went,” Wes said, pointing toward the island.
“Okee-dokee, Wes,” Ralph said.
Ralph helped Monica support Dawson, putting
his arm around his waist and lifting.
Wes saw that the fight was over; Jett was walking away slowly from Cobb’s body.
“We were a good match,” Jett said.
“They’re coming!” Monica shouted.
Two Crazies were coming off the bridge, looking down the deck. Soon they were shouting toward the Norfolk. They hurried to a hatch leading into the island, but suddenly it opened by itself. Roberto was inside, holding Jett’s weapon. Jett took the pieces one at a time, reassembling the weapon as they hurried into the bowels of the supercarrier.
“Where’s the guard?” Wes asked Roberto.
“He promised to count to a thousand before he comes out of the captain’s cabin,” Roberto said, struggling to keep a straight face.
“I can count to a hundred,” Ralph said.
“I’m feeling something,” Elizabeth said.
Then Elizabeth bent as if listening to someone shorter than her.
“Anita feels it too. The ones you have been fighting—the Crazies—are sad and frightened. Something terrible has happened to them.”
Jett stopped Elizabeth.
“Is it about the generators?” Jett asked.
“Yes. I’m not sure what it means, but it’s something about a generator.”
“It means this place isn’t going to exist much longer.”
Then there were voices and the sound of heavy footsteps—the Crazies were coming. The Nimitz had been pulled into Pot of Gold, not had the time and space distorting field created around her, like the Norfolk, so the interior of the ship connected and flowed in a logical way. But even here body parts protruded from bulkheads and decks, as on the Norfolk. Having seen many of these body-part statues, they moved past them quickly, no longer horrified by the sight. Wes, however, noticed something new. The Norfolk’s crew statues were all male and all white, while on the Nimitz there was diversity, with African-Americans, Asian-Americans, and women suffering the same fate.
Jett led them now, setting a fast pace. As on the Norfolk, there was a utilitarian feel to the ship, the emphasis being on function and survivability, not aesthetics. Bulkheads were painted in muted grays and greens, and every compartment had a clear function. Storage, equipment, bunks, repair, conference, and mess passed in a blur; Wes barely had time to glance into the compartments as they rushed after Jett. Unlike on the Norfolk, here there was equipment that would have seemed impossible to the World War II sailors. One large compartment, labelled “Print Room,” was filled with copiers and computers, suggesting a sophisticated print-making capability. Another room was equipped like a home theater, with a large-screen television, a VCR, and a rack of videocassettes.
They passed through a ready room decorated with the squadron insignia of lightning bolts and a rising sun. A bulletin board covered with papers made up half of one wall, a blackboard the other half. Pilots’ names were written on another wall, with yellow and green stickers grading the pilots’ performance. A VCR and TV were mounted in one corner; the TV screen was glowing, the speaker issuing a steady hiss.
They hurried through rows of high-backed chairs, out the other side, and deeper into the ship. In the next corridor they came to a dentist’s office, complete with dental chair and drills, and an x-ray machine. Beyond that was the clinic. The Nimitz had all the features and functions of an American city.
Running from the sounds of pursuit, they emerged into a hangar. It was a vast space, four stories high, filled with planes and equipment. With wings folded, F-14s, A-10s and other aircraft were scattered throughout the hangar. Most of the jets were parked, but others were undergoing maintenance, some with engines disassembled. Yellow lines painted on the deck marked spaces kept open for walking. In the middle of the largest open space they found three cruise missiles, which had been brought out of the nuclear storage vault deep in the Nimitz. One of the missiles was disassembled, the work having been interrupted by the trial.
Jett rushed past the missiles to one of the elevators used to raise the planes to the flight deck. From the elevator they could see the opaque wall that marked the edge of this world. Forward, they could see the Norfolk. Above them hung some of the crucified crew of the Nimitz, still writhing in agony, unable to die. Ropes and cables hung from the elevator, and two rope ladders led to the desert below.
“Cut everything but this rope and that ladder to the desert floor,” Jett ordered.
Roberto hacked the ropes, Jett firing his weapon to cut through the cables. One by one the lines were severed, leaving only one ladder and one rope.
“Down the ladder,” Jett ordered. “I’ll hold them off until you’re down.”
Without another word Jett ran back the way they had come.
“Monica, you go first,” Wes said. “Then Ralph, Roberto, and Dawson. Help the person above you.”
Wes had arranged the order of descent in such a way as to help clumsy Ralph and the injured Dawson. Monica climbed down ten feet and then waited as Ralph awkwardly turned around and squatted, not sure how to coordinate his movements to get onto the ladder. Wes held one of his arms steadying him.
“I can do it, Wes. I’m not a baby you know,” Ralph complained.
Wes ignored him, holding Ralph’s arm until he was two rungs down. Monica was below, helping Ralph descend. Jett’s gun sputtered in the back of the hangar, followed by shouts of alarm. The Crazies had arrived. Wes followed the others onto the rope ladder, trusting Jett to find a way to escape.
Ralph set the pace down the ladder, Monica staying close below him, the others backed up above Ralph. Jett’s gun was still firing in the hangar bay above, although they heard less and less of the fighting.
The hull of the carrier curved inward, and they were soon dangling in space, feeling helpless and exposed. Wes could see no one in the desert below; when he looked forward toward the Norfolk, he saw no one there, either. With painful slowness, Ralph lowered himself slowly to the desert floor, Monica holding him as he stepped gingerly off the ladder.
“See, I told ya I could do it,” Ralph announced.
With Ralph safely down, Roberto and Dawson descended quickly, Wes following, relieved to be within safe jumping distance, and then to feel his feet on the ground. There was no sign of Jett.
Roberto led now, moving along the hull toward the Norfolk. Wes herded the others after him, feeling safe under the curving hull even though it looked as if the great ship could tip over on them at any second.
A whirring noise above caught Wes’s attention. Jett was sliding down the rope he had ordered to be left dangling. Once on the ground he disentangled from the rope, then aimed his weapon up the side of the ship. Wes expected him to cut the rope and the ladder at the top near the elevator, but instead he fired just below the curve of the ship, the bullets smacking into the hull. Only a few rounds missed, and Jett quickly cut the ladder and the rope, leaving the end dangling forty feet in the air.
Jett caught up just as crossbow bolts rained down, impacting behind and ahead of Jett, who ducked under the hull.
“Let’s move,” he said.
Glancing behind, Wes saw Crazies reaching the severed end of the ladder. One hung precariously from the rope while others slid down from above. Those on the bottom of the ladder shouted at those above, and they began reversing the climb. Those on the rope, however, were hanging on for dear life, since the climb up was infinitely harder than the climb down. Then the lowest man on the rope slipped, hitting the desert with a solid thud. Still alive, he rolled on the ground holding a broken leg.
The machines Wes had seen from the rope bridge were ahead, and as he and the others came out from under the curve of the hull they could see Crazies crossing from the Norfolk to the Nimitz. A Crazy on the bridge spotted them, alerting the others. Seconds later they were under fire; they took cover behind one of the machines.
“We should make a run for it,” Roberto said. “If they get archers lined up on that bridge, we’re done for.”
“Can you cut the cables on the bri
dge with your gun?” Wes asked.
“Not at this range, but there’s another way.”
Jett released the catch on the belt holding his pack. He pulled the pack halfway around to the front, then opened the top and took out a cylinder attached to a thick plate, with three red rings along one side and two on the top. There was a plastic sheet on the bottom which Jett tore away, revealing a ring of putty. Rotating his pack to his back again, Jett stood, slapping the device on top of the machine behind which they were hiding.
“What are you doing?” Roberto said.
“If I understood Doctor Kellum right, these machines are keeping the Nimitz here. If we can shut one of them down, we can send the Nimitz back where it came from.”
“A bomb won’t work in here,” Roberto said.
“It’s acid. It will eat through an inch of steel.” Jett tapped the flimsy casing of the device. “This won’t even slow it down.”
Now Jett pulled each of the three red rings, extracting long plastic strips. Then he pulled two more rings, and finally he pulled a metal rod out from the side of the bomb, gave it a half twist, and rammed it in. Wes heard the sound of glass breaking. Men with crossbows were gathering on the bridge and now fired a volley down at them. Jett ducked, the bolts caroming off the machine. Jett returned fire. The bridge was too far for his weapon to do significant damage, but the Crazies ducked anyway.
He pulled a second rod from the other end of the bomb and jammed it in, too; this was followed by the sound of more glass breaking. Finally, Jett pulled a flat piece of plastic from the bottom.
“That’s it,” Jett said. “Time to go. I’ll cover you.”
With a yank from Roberto and a push from Wes they had Ralph up and hurrying across the desert. As Wes stepped away from the cover of their machine he could see that it was beginning to smoke.
Jett followed, firing his weapon. The Crazies fired intermittently while dodging Jett’s rounds, which spoiled their aim. Smoke was pouring from the machine now, and the Crazies noticed, shouting and pointing. They hurried to the cover of the Norfolk’s hull and out of the line of fire from the bridge.
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