“Oh, he’s beautiful,” Veronica said, seeing Laddie looking back at her from the front passenger seat. She was seated between Michael and Ulrich.
“I thought I smelled a dog,” Michael said.
“See?” said Ulrich, annoyed that he had been displaced by a dog and forced to sit in the back, though he was enjoying the proximity with Veronica, who smelled like flowers. “I told you he needs a goddamn bath.”
“He hates baths,” Forrest said, pulling a cigarette from its pack with his lips. “He fights so hard it’s not worth the trouble.” He lit the cigarette and winked at the dog.
A mile from the site, Ulrich asked them to put the blindfolds back on. After they had walked both of them into the house and down the stairs to the main blast door, Veronica and Michael were allowed to remove them.
“So there’s a house above us?” Veronica asked, looking around the basement.
“It wasn’t common practice,” Ulrich explained, “but we’re so far away from Tinker Air Force Base out here that they built an off-duty quarters for the aboveground security personnel.”
“This is blast door number one,” Forrest said. “It’s ten inches of solid steel and weighs one ton. This door alone should be more than enough to keep out anyone trying to get in, but there’s a second door just like it twenty feet down the concrete security vestibule. Remember, these installations were designed to survive a nuclear attack, not a direct hit, but anything in excess of three miles would probably have failed to disable the missiles that were installed here.”
He sealed door number one behind them and led them down the lighted tunnel to number two, lifting an eight-pound sledgehammer from the floor in the corner and banging out a code against the door.
“We’ll have to remember to change that code now,” Ulrich said with a smile.
“Whatever,” Veronica laughed. “Like either of us knows Morse code. Doesn’t the intercom work?”
“Not at the moment,” Forrest said. “There’s a short somewhere inside the conduit and we haven’t gotten around to running a new wire yet. We’ll also be installing a number of small fiber-optic cameras. We’ve had more time-sensitive issues to deal with up to now. Like stocking up on food.”
The door opened a minute later and there stood Marcus Kane, a look of surprise on his face. “Already?”
“This is just a tour,” Forrest said. “These are the prospective guests we met earlier tonight. Where are the gamers?”
“Playing Xbox down in Launch Control,” Kane said. “Where else?”
“Launch Control? I thought you said the missiles were gone,” Veronica said.
“We still refer to the chambers by their old names,” Forrest said as he led the way down five flights of stairs spanning three stories. “This way to silo number one.”
The thirty-foot steel tunnel was suspended from vibration dampeners made of coiled steel shock absorbers. The walkway itself was covered with steel grating.
“This is blast tunnel number one,” he said. “It seals at both ends to keep out the exhaust during launch.” He opened the blast door and led them into the actual missile silo. “Be careful on the catwalk,” he warned. “It’s a ten-story drop to the bottom.”
“Holy cow!” Michael said, looking around. “This thing is huge.”
“It had to be to hold a rocket, Michael,” Veronica said.
“I’m sorry, honey. I forgot you knew all about missile silos. Perhaps you’d like to give the tour?”
“Shut up,” she said, looking over the railing to the bottom, where she saw a veritable pyramid of cardboard boxes. “Is that all food down there?”
“Most of it,” Ulrich said, peering over. “Be careful of these railings. We’ve rewelded them, but some are pretty badly rusted, so don’t be overly confident.”
“Is all that food as well?” Michael asked, gesturing at the boxes and crates stacked all around the silo’s many levels, levels originally used to allow Air Force personnel access to the missile’s many systems. There were nine levels, three above where they stood and five more below.
“Most of it,” Ulrich repeated, not being overly informative.
“My God, you guys have been busy,” Michael said. “It’s like a warehouse.”
“That’s the idea,” Forrest said. “Let’s head to Launch Control.”
In Launch Control—a perfectly round room full of steel shelves filled with everything from foam cups to ammunition—they found Kane, Oscar Vasquez, and Linus Danzig all sitting in expensive office chairs before a large-screen television, playing Halo.
Forrest introduced the men around and everyone shook hands.
“This was the brains of the installation and remains so today,” Ulrich explained, showing them the main console. “Once the aboveground cameras are installed, we’ll be able to see what’s going on up there at all times, both inside and outside the house. These three monitors will run on battery power most of the time. There are large dry cell batteries down those spiral stairs, which will be kept charged by bicycle generators. So the more people we have down here, the fewer turns we’ll have to take at riding the bicycles.”
“And suppose the asteroid hits close enough to destroy your cameras?” Michael said. “What then?”
“We’ll be blind as bats down here until we’re able to go up and replace them. Which could be anywhere from days to months after impact.”
“What about fresh air?”
“There are two ventilator shafts with filtration systems,” Forrest said, “but to be honest, those are this facility’s one vulnerability. Fifty people suck a lot of air, and if those systems are compromised, we’ll have to take steps.”
“Steps?”
“Drastic measures. Like lowering the lift elevator or opening the main entrance in order to allow in new air, which may well be contaminated. The blast tunnels, however, will remain sealed at all times, which will allow both silos to stand as fresh air reservoirs in case there is ever a problem with ventilation. They’ll buy us a few days, at least.”
“So someone up there could sabotage the ventilation shafts?” Michael said.
“Potentially, yes. If they find us and if they know what to look for.”
“But it’s not like we have to sit down here and just let them do it either,” Ulrich said. “If they can move around up there, so can we, and with our NBC suits—that’s for nuclear, biological, and chemical—we’ll be a lot less vulnerable to whatever contaminants there may be. And unless we’re vastly outgunned, we’re confident we’ll be able to reduce any such threat without a great deal of trouble.”
“I like the term ‘reduce,’ ” Veronica said with a smile. “It’s got a such gentle feel about it.”
“We’ll be anything but gentle if and when the time comes,” Danzig remarked, rocking back in his chair and squirting a large glob of Cheez Whiz into his mouth. “You can believe that.”
“So you do have weapons, then?” Michael said.
“Absolutely,” Forrest replied. “Like I said, it’s our intention to survive this thing. Have no illusions. Cruel times are headed this way and in order to live through them we may well be forced to make some heartless and selfish decisions.”
“Like ignoring starving children at the gate?” Veronica said.
“Once we seal door number one behind the last guest, it doesn’t open again until after impact, and then only if it’s absolutely imperative in order to protect the integrity of the installation. I don’t care if fifty starving children come scratching at the door.”
Veronica looked at Michael. “How’s that for a reality check?”
Michael shrugged his shoulders. “Unfortunately, they’re right. That’s why it’s called a holocaust. You can’t possibly save everyone who deserves to be saved.”
Ulrich smiled. “I think you and I might get along, Doc.”
“It’s going to be a bit cramped,” he conceded, “but I think we’ll manage okay.”
“I don’t think white’s a good color for these walls,” Michael said at once. “Professionally speaking, that is. You might want to consider a bright yellow or a lime green like you’ve used in the tunnels, something to cheer up the environment. White is too stark. And stay away from orange and red. Especially orange. They’re inflammatory colors.”
Forrest and Ulrich exchanged glances.
“Can you think of anything else?” Ulrich asked, interested.
“Well, what do you have planned for recreation?” Michael asked. “Aside from the bike riding.”
“We’ve got a huge selection of DVDs and video games,” Ulrich said. “Lots of books, music CDs.”
“What else?”
The soldiers looked at each other again.
“That’s not enough?”
Now it was Michael and Veronica’s turn to exchange glances. Veronica even laughed.
“Um, no,” Michael said. “Not unless you want these people going stir crazy down here and slitting their wrists after six weeks. You’re talking about twenty-four months of virtual sensory deprivation, and a total lack of sunlight. They’re going to need real stimulation, the opportunity to create, to use their imaginations. Distraction.”
“Hey, Mike, this isn’t a theme park,” Forrest said. “It’s a bomb shelter, man. Nobody said it was going to be fun down here. There’s only so much we can do for good times. Maybe they can get creative in the kitchen or something.”
Veronica laughed again. “I think you guys have been blowing things up for too long. These people aren’t soldiers, Jack. They’re women and children. You know, civilians.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Look, it’s really not that difficult,” Michael explained. “Go buy one of every board game you can find. They won’t take up that much room. You can store them in the silo. And get lots of jigsaw puzzles. Word books, puzzle books. And for God’s sake get some toys down here! Building blocks, Legos, little cars. Some of those plastic army men even. I assume you were kids once yourselves.”
“You might even bring some musical instruments down,” Veronica suggested. “Let some of the kids teach themselves how to play. A few of them are bound to have some natural talent. And what about some puppets? They can put on puppet shows for each other. Little kids love that stuff. Things they can apply their imaginations to.”
Forrest looked at Ulrich. “You getting all this?”
“I’ll send the Dynamic Duo out tomorrow,” Ulrich said. “But I’m drawing the line at musical instruments. I’m not listening to that goddamn racket.”
Forrest chuckled sardonically. “As you might imagine, he’s great with kids.”
“Next up is the kitchen and the mess facilities,” Ulrich said, leading the way. “Both of which are equally cramped . . .”
When the tour was finished and after the sleeping arrangements had been made for the night, Michael and Veronica sat down in Launch Control with all of five of the men.
“I have to be honest with you,” Michael said. “I think fifty is a bridge too far. I think you should cut that number in half. Tinkertoys and puppet shows not withstanding, it’s going to be very crowded down here. Tempers are bound to flare even if things are going well, and I don’t think you should count on them going well. It’s human nature to complain.”
“You’re starting to sound like him,” Forrest said with a nod toward Ulrich. “Nobody said this was going to be easy or fun.”
“But why not increase your chances for success?” Veronica asked, stroking Laddie’s head as he stood panting alongside her. “It’s better to save twenty or thirty than to almost save fifty. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“You’re beating a dead horse,” Ulrich said. “He’s intent.”
“I reiterate,” Forrest said. “I do not believe that everyone’s going to accept our offer.”
“So you’re the supreme commander here?” Veronica said, purposefully asking a potentially provocative question in front of the other four.
“I’m in command, yes,” he replied without blinking. “I was their commanding officer in the Army, but now we’re all friends of equal standing and it’s been agreed that I’m to lead. Only a vote of four-to-one can overrule one of my decisions.”
“And what about your civilians?” she asked. “Do they get a vote?”
“No.”
“Is that fair?”
“Do I strike you as a tyrant?” he asked, digging the pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. “I’m not in this because I get my rocks off telling people what to do. Authority comes with a lot of responsibility, and the fewer orders you have to give, the better.”
Michael did not fail to notice that Forrest was smoking a lot, and that he was obviously under a lot of stress. “Do you plan to smoke down here after the civilians arrive?”
“I’ll do my smoking in the cargo bay,” he said. “That’s where the lift elevator is located. There are two blast doors separating the bay from the main complex.”
“I take it you’ve stocked up on cigarettes?”
“I’ve been smoking for a long time. I intend to cut back, maybe even quit, but now is clearly not the time for me to attempt to do that.”
“No, of course not,” Michael said. “Only curious.”
“You’re analyzing me,” Forrest said. “I get that. You’re a shrink and it’s probably to be expected. So what’s your evaluation so far?”
“Well, we could talk about that later if you—”
“Lay it on me, Doc. I don’t keep secrets from these guys. Do you think I’m a narcissist?”
“Not at all. But at the risk of offending you, I will say that I think the loss of your family has—”
“Michael . . .”
“He asked, honey, so I’m telling him . . . I think the loss of your family has clouded your better judgment in terms of how many people you should try to save. Beyond that, this seems like an entirely worthwhile endeavor to me, considering what’s to come. And you seem to me a capable group of men.”
Ulrich exchanged glances with the others, none of them exactly disagreeing with Michael’s observation about Forrest, though they had not considered the point before. Forrest had always been their leader, and soldiers weren’t generally in the business of questioning their officers’ motivations, though Special Forces operatives were typically allowed a higher level of input than members of the regular rank and file.
“How about you?” Forrest asked Veronica. “What do you think?”
“You know,” Michael said, “I’m not sure she’s entirely capable of offering an unbiased opinion where you’re concerned. She’s attracted to you.”
“Michael!” Veronica nearly shouted. “That’s not funny!”
“I think thou dost protest too much. Are you going to deny there’s chemistry between the two of you? If you are, then there’s really no sense in my being a part of this equation . . . is there?”
She sat staring at him, her eyes angry and embarrassed. The other men stifled grins.
Forrest, however, admired Michael for bringing it out into the open. It forced them to acknowledge a reality that had been an eight hundred pound gorilla in the room.
“It’s not anything to be ashamed of,” Michael said easily. “Nor is it something to be denied. Not if we’re considering living among these men and so many others in such a confined space for such an extended period of time. Because now we’re getting into your area of study, and you understand the social dynamics involved here even better than
I.”
She crossed her arms, painfully aware that her body language, as usual, was confirming what Michael already knew. “This could have waited,” she said thinly.
“I don’t think so,” Forrest butted in. “Not from Mike’s point of view, it couldn’t.” He turned his attention to Michael. “I think Veronica’s one of the most attractive women I’ve ever seen,” he admitted. “It’s why I told her about our little project here. But the truth is that she reminds me of the way my wife Monica used to be. So do I enjoy her company? Absolutely. Is it my intention to try and steal her away from you? No. And for the record, I don’t feel that I could if I tried.”
Veronica realized that this was very probably only the beginning of the gender dilemmas they would all be facing if they chose to continue with this attempt. Women were going to be commoditized the world over; there would be no forestalling that phenomenon after the asteroid hit. Females enjoyed parity with males only as a result of law and order, and while this concept was fascinating to her from a sociological perspective, as a woman she was frightened by it. This was not some collegiate hypothetical case study. Humanity was on the very brink of being thrust into a world where the strong would hold absolute dominion over the weak.
“May I assume that I’m to have at least some say over who I do and do not choose to be with?” she said, looking between the two of them.
Forrest grinned. “I was merely stating my opinion.”
“Well, for everyone’s general knowledge here,” she said, looking at all the men, “I love Michael and—unlike most men—I’m quite capable of controlling myself, even if I happen to find someone other than my mate attractive. So to answer the question, yes, there is chemistry between Jack and I, but it’s not an issue for me. Nor do I believe it will be for him.”
“Well, I have a more important question for you,” Kane said to her.
She looked at him. “Yes?”
“Do you have a sister?”
Everyone laughed.
“I do,” she said, smiling, “but I’m sorry. She’s married with two kids and lives on the East Coast. Now, if no one minds, I’d like to clean up before we turn in. Is there hot water in the shower room?”
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