Children of the Mountain (Book 3): Lightning Child

by Hakok, R. A.

  I whisper to him to wait on the landing and this time he nods, like he might do just that. I turn and follow Mags out onto the roof. As my head clears the hatch I see her, standing on the ledge, looking down. I start to make my way over to join her, but when I glance over again she’s already headed back towards me. Her lips have hardened into a tight line, and above her eyes are blazing. I step into her path, mouth opening to ask what’s wrong, but I’m far too slow; the fingers that were meant for her shoulder close on thin air. I turn around to call after her, but she’s already disappearing through the hatch behind me.

  *

  IT MIGHT HAVE WORKED OUT differently if I’d gone after her, right then, although all things considered I doubt it. But I’m only a few feet from the edge now, and curiosity takes over, insisting I witness firsthand whatever it is she’s just seen. I step over to the edge, look down into the cavern, and then I’m running back across the roof too. I know even as I lower myself through the hatch I have little hope of catching her; she’s long gone, the echoes of her boots already dying on the stair. I lean over the rail and call out, loud as I dare, but if she hears she’s past heeding me. She hasn’t even bothered with her rifle; it leans against the wall where she left it to go up on the roof. I snatch mine from beside it, shouting over my shoulder at the kid to stay where he is. There’s no time to check if he means to comply.

  I take the steps two, three at a time, the weapon bouncing on its strap as I bound after her. At the bottom the door swings open and I burst onto Mount Weather’s bright, wide streets. Ahead of me she’s broken into a silent sprint, heading for the lake.

  I slide the rifle off my shoulder and take off after her, fumbling with it as I go. It feels no more familiar to my hands than when I leveled it at Hicks in Eden’s cavern, a couple of days ago; the time I’ve had with it since doesn’t seem to have deepened the bond between us. I get a grip on the charging handle and yank it back to chamber the first round, desperately trying to remember everything he told me about shooting it. The only thing I can recall is the bit about getting my breathing under control and there’s little chance of that happening, so instead I grip it tight and run as fast as I can, trying not to think about what might happen after.

  Ahead of me Mags has already disappeared around the corner. I reach the end of the sidewalk and then I’m clear of the last building and out in the open, a wide strip of concrete the only thing now between me and the water. I raise the rifle, press the stock to my cheek. My mind registers what I see as a series of freeze-frame images, presenting each in turn.

  Up ahead the Juvies, kneeling in short, uneven rows. Their heads are bowed; here and there shoulders shake with tears. To one side, Tyler and Eric, the two former Guardians who fled with us here, also on their knees, their hands bound behind their backs. A beefy, apple-cheeked man stands over them, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, like he might not care for his current station. Scudder. But he’s of little concern to me right now.

  Another group, right at the water’s edge. Zack, Jason and Seth, the other three Guardians. They’re bent over a fourth person, lying on his back between them. His face is covered by a rag, but there’s only one person it can be; no one else in our group approaches that size. A final figure stands over him, a rifle slung over his shoulder. Kurt. He’s pouring water from a jerry can onto the cloth, a smile playing across his lips as he does it. Now and then he flicks his head back, clearing strands of lank hair from his eyes. Jake struggles furiously as the water hits the rag; it’s taking all three of the Guardians to hold him down.

  My eyes return to Mags. She’s almost on them, but miraculously no one’s spotted her yet; they’re all preoccupied with what they’re doing to Jake. That won’t last; any second now all hell’s going to break loose. I look around, desperately scanning the cavern for the one person I haven’t found.

  ‘Alright, let him up. We’ll see if he’ll tell us now. Kurt, pick me out one of his favorites, just in case he’s still not feeling co-operative.’

  There.

  I swing the rifle in the direction of the voice. He stands to one side, hands clasped behind his back. He’s facing away from me, out onto the lake, but there’s no mistaking that iron-heeled stance. I sprint towards him, bringing the barrel up as I run. A few more yards and he’ll be close enough that I might even stand a chance of hitting him.

  Kurt takes his time emptying the last of the water from the jerry can. When he’s done he turns around, takes a step back towards the Juvies and reaches down, grabbing a fistful of blond hair I think belongs to Lauren. She squeals as he drags her to her feet.

  Peck’s the danger; I shouldn’t take my eyes off him, not even for a second. But any moment now Kurt’s going to spot Mags, and he has a weapon. Even as I think it he finally sees her, bearing down on him. His mouth opens and he starts to slip the rifle off his shoulder, but he’s left it far too late. She grabs the barrel, wrests it from him with absurd ease, and in the same motion swings the stock around high. There’s a crunch as it connects with his nose and he drops, so quickly he might as well have been shot.

  He’s no longer a threat, I know it even before he hits the ground. But there’s something happening with Mags now, and for an instant I’m unable to look away. Kurt’s lying at her feet, hands cupped around his busted nose. It looks like it’s a gusher; fat drops of blood are already spilling from between his fingers, spattering the sidewalk. Peck’s right there, no more than a handful of yards behind her, but if that’s a concern she gives no sign of it. She just stares down at Kurt as though transfixed.

  I finally tear my gaze from her and swing the rifle around. My thumb remembers the safety of its own accord; it flicks the selector even as my finger slips over the trigger. But Lauren’s still on her feet and Mags is in the way now, too. I open my mouth to shout at her to get down, but the warning dies on my lips. Peck takes a step to the side, placing her squarely between us, and I sense whatever chance we had for this going our way evaporating. In the end I never even see where it comes from.

  One second his hand’s empty.

  The next it’s holding the unmistakable shape of a pistol to the back of her head.

  *

  I SKID TO A HALT among the Juvies.

  Mags still grips the weapon she took from Kurt. Peck barks at her to drop it, but she pays him no mind; from the way she holds it it’s unclear whether she’s even aware she has it.

  I start to inch forward, but Lauren’s standing in front of me, blocking the way. Her eyes are wide, her hair a bird’s nest of tangles where Kurt has used it to drag her to her feet. I hiss at her to sit down. She starts at my voice, like she didn’t realize I was there, and then she bobs her head, once, a quick up and down that suggests there’s nothing she’d like better than to oblige. She makes no move to sit, though, just keeps staring straight ahead, like the part of her brain that might be in charge of processing that instruction has flipped the sign from Open to Out to Lunch or possibly even Gone Fishin’. A few of the Juvies glance up in my direction, but for the most part they keep their heads bowed, their eyes fixed on the ground.

  Mags continues to glare down at Kurt, seemingly unaware of the gun held to her head. Peck shifts his gaze from her to me then back again, as though he’s assessing which of us is most likely to cause him trouble. He takes another half-step to the side. He needn’t have bothered. Even if my hands were steady there’s no way I’d risk that shot. He tells her to drop the rifle again, this time jabbing the pistol into the back of her neck for good measure.

  That gets her attention.

  Her eyes flick to the side and I see her tense. And for a second I think she might be about to try something very foolish. An image pops into my head, from a dream I had, not three nights back, sleeping on the floor of the church in Devil’s Backbone. And for a moment I’m not in Mount Weather’s cavern. I’m stood between a pair of crumbling gateposts at the end of The Greenbrier’s long driveway. I can see the blood welling up from t
he hole the bullet has made. It trickles slow down her scalp to drip into the snow. In the dream it was me who had pulled the trigger, but if she keeps this up the outcome will be no different.

  I lower the rifle.

  ‘Mags.’

  Her eyes jump to me and I think I catch a flicker of recognition there, but the pistol Peck has pressed to her neck’s not helping. I call her name again, louder this time. Her eyes close, stay that way for a long moment, and when they open again it’s like she’s come back from wherever it is she’s been. The Secret Service agent shouts at her to drop the rifle she’s holding. She glances at it then lets it slip from her fingers. It clatters uselessly to the ground.

  Peck turns to look at me, his eyes gray as the snow outside and just as cold. He pushes the pistol forward, pressing the muzzle into the back of her head.

  ‘Alright, you can lay yours down too, Gabriel. Nice and easy now.’

  Mags looks at me and shakes her head, but the Secret Service agent just reaches for her parka and yanks her backwards towards him, jamming the gun into the nape of her neck. Her eyes narrow, like she’s struggling to contain whatever it was I saw there only seconds ago. She closes her eyes again and I hold my breath, but when she speaks her voice is calm.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’

  ‘Really? And why’s that?’

  ‘Because I’m infected.’

  A few of the Juvies raise their heads and there’s the sound of fresh struggling from the water’s edge. Peck doesn’t seem impressed by any of it, however.

  ‘Nice try, but Gabriel’s already played that card, remember? I’m not falling for it again.’

  She shrugs.

  ‘Suit yourself.’

  For a long moment his eyes don’t leave me, but then without warning they flick to her, and when they return for the first time I think I see doubt there. He glances over again, allowing his gaze to linger a little longer this time. She’s got her back to him, but even from behind he must see how thin she looks. He hesitates a moment longer, then shifts the gun back a fraction. His free hand reaches forward to spin her around, but then he thinks better of it. He takes a slow step backwards, barks another order.

  ‘Hands behind your head. Interlace your fingers.’

  She does exactly as he says.

  ‘Alright, turn around. Nice and slow.’

  His eyes move to her face and for a split second I see his expression change. Under the glare of the arc lights there’s no mistaking it; this isn’t some Halloween lampblack stunt, like the one I pulled in Eden. He takes another step back. The gun stays pointed at her, but his eyes drop to the barrel, betraying him. He’s not wearing gloves. Would the few seconds he had it pressed to the back of her head have been enough?

  ‘On the ground. Now.’

  She lowers herself to her knees, her hands still behind her head.

  ‘We didn’t come back for you, Randall. And right now you shouldn’t be wasting your time worrying about us, either. You’d do better to concern yourself with how you’re going to save your boss.’

  Peck’s eyes narrow at the mention of Kane, but he doesn’t say anything. He looks distracted, like he’s trying to work out how long he has; how quickly the virus might move through the metal in his hands. Mags keeps talking.

  ‘You came down the Catoctin Mountain Highway didn’t you?’

  She doesn’t wait for a response.

  ‘I know you did, because we’ve just come from Eden too. We left the President in the care of some men. Soldiers. Serious types. They’ve already killed Quartermaster. If you let me show you what I have in my pocket I can prove it.’

  Peck appears to consider this for a while, but his thoughts seem elsewhere. The gun doesn’t move from her head, but his eyes keep returning to it, like it’s something he’d be mighty keen to be rid of. Eventually he tells her to go ahead.

  Mags reaches inside her parka and pulls out Kane’s reading glasses. She holds them out for him to see.

  I start to inch forward again. Mags is finally out of the way, but Lauren’s still on her feet, just waiting for the first bullet to find her. I whisper at her to get down, but she just hitches in a breath and stays right where she is.

  Peck’s staring at Kane’s glasses. He gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head, like he might not believe it. I take another step, racking my brains for something to say that will convince him.

  ‘They’re planning to bring him to somebody you might know. Dr. Myra Gilbey.’

  At the mention of Gilbey’s name Peck’s eyes flick back to me.

  ‘She’s the one who infected Mags. She didn’t seem a big fan of the President. My guess is he can expect similar treatment, soon as they get him back to her. They’ll be on their way by now. They left right after us.’

  ‘Where are they headed?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘You’ll get that information when we’re outside.’

  Peck looks at Mags again, then back at me. He brings the pistol closer to her forehead, but this time he makes sure not to touch her with it.

  ‘You tell me where they’re bringing Kane, Gabriel. You tell me right now, or so help me I’ll end her.’

  I take a deep breath, then shake my head.

  ‘In a couple of days she’ll be done for anyway, just like Marv. I’ve seen how that goes, and it’s not pretty.’ His eyes flick to the barrel again. ‘’Fact, you’d probably be doing her a favor.’

  There’s fresh commotion from out by the lake as the Guardians struggle to restrain Jake. Mags looks over her shoulder and I see her brow furrow, like she may not much care for how I’m playing the hand she’s dealt me either. I take a step closer. Lauren’s standing right in front of me, so close I could rest the rifle on her shoulder if I chose. Still she doesn’t move.

  ‘But then I’d shoot you.’ I raise my voice, so those out by the water can hear. ‘And Kurt here, and all the rest of you, too, for good measure. And the President would still be with those soldiers on his way to Dr. Gilbey.’

  Lauren’s mouth drops open and she turns and stares at me over her shoulder, wide-eyed. Peck doesn’t seem as impressed, but I can see him working through his options. I summarize them for him, just in case he’s having a slow day.

  ‘Randall, you’ve nothing to lose. If we’re lying you can just come back in a week and we can do this all again.’

  *

  THE LAST OF THE LIGHT’S already slipping from the sky as we make it out to the portal.

  Kurt eases himself through the ruined guillotine gate, his hands still clutched to his nose. He shuffles over to where Scudder and the Guardians are waiting and then turns to glare back at Mags and me. I ignore him; right now I have a much bigger fish to fry. Peck still has a pistol held to her head, but he doesn’t look any more content with that situation than I am. His eyes keep flicking to it like it’s a grenade he’s holding, and he’s just noticed the pin’s not where it ought to be.

  ‘Alright, we’re outside, like you wanted. Now where’re they headed?’

  ‘First I want the map Kane gave you, the one with the code to this place on it.’

  ‘That wasn’t part of the deal.’

  ‘Well it is now. Think about it, Randall. If Kane’s still in Eden you can get it from him again. We don’t know how to change them. If we did we’d have done it already, wouldn’t we?’

  He hesitates, like he’s considering. I don’t want him to dwell on it too long, or he might think to wonder just why I want the map from him. He can’t know it, but the last thing I did before we quit Eden was take a trip along Front Street, to the command building. I figured Kane had to have his own list of codes for the bunkers in the Federal Relocation Arc, and I couldn’t risk that list falling into Hicks’ hands. Finding it turned out to be easier than I had expected; it was sitting right there on top of a filing cabinet, like he’d just had it out and hadn’t yet bothered to put it away, which I guess was probably just the way of it. I checked the drawer
s and there was no other, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have thought to stash a copy somewhere else. If he didn’t, though, then whatever codes he gave his Secret Service agent when he was setting out for Mount Weather might be the only ones not in my possession.

  I flick my eyes in Mags’ direction.

  ‘Hey Randall, how long do you think it’s been since you jabbed her with that pistol?’

  He waits a second longer then reaches inside his parka with his free hand and takes out a blue and red Standard Oil map, just like the one Marv gave me, and tosses it over. It lands in the snow at my feet.

  ‘Now put the gun down and I’ll tell you where they’re headed.’

  His eyes shift to the pistol, and for a second I think he might just do it, he wants rid of it that much. But instead he shakes his head.

  ‘Yeah, that’s not happening, Gabriel.’

  ‘Let Mags go back inside, then. Once she’s safe I’ll tell you where they’re taking him. You can keep your gun on me.’

  ‘Gabe.’

  ‘It’s alright Mags, I know what I’m doing.’

  I say it with way more confidence than I feel. But I’ve had the walk through the tunnel to think about how this might play out, and I figure this is as good an outcome as can be hoped for. Afterwards I’m not sure if I blinked and I missed it or if he was just that quick, but one moment the pistol he’s holding is pointed at her head, and the next I’m staring down the business end of a Beretta just like Marv’s. I was ready for it, of course, at least as much as you can be ready for something like that, but nevertheless I’m a little thrown by the speed with which it happens.