by Joe Hart
Zoey blinks, the moisture in her mouth evaporating as she watches her mother relive the moment.
“When it was over he told her it would be a shame if someone were to find out. She would lose her student funding, respect from her peers, a future in the field, even her boyfriend. She would become a statistic, maybe an accuser at best. Then he left her lying there, shaking and horrified because what he’d said was true.”
Vivian bares her teeth as if tasting something terrible. “It nearly broke her. She lost her identity and became something else- a shell of what she once was. She had to spend her days working alongside the man that had done this to her, but she couldn’t get past the fear of what he’d said would happen if she told someone. So she didn’t. She kept it inside. She eventually broke up with her boyfriend and her grades slipped. She tried killing herself once before she was finally able to transfer out of the program to a different college. But what happened never went away. She carried the fear and the weakness with her from that night forward.”
Zoey can see her mother’s hands shaking as she clenches them together.
“So please don’t talk to me about ‘the right thing to do.’ We have a chance to remake the world, Zoey, and we don’t need to leave these walls to do it. There are thousands of eggs preserved here along with hundreds of artificial wombs. The beginning of women’s dominion can start here with you and me and her. Mother, daughter, and granddaughter, united.”
Nausea squirms in Zoey’s stomach, her mouth arid and sour. She feels a shimmer of sympathy shining through the darkness Vivian’s surrounded herself with.
I keep my ideals, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.
“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” she says quietly. “But you can’t control everyone’s life, even though I understand why you tried.”
“That’s enough.”
“You tried to control everything because you never wanted to feel that way again. Helpless and afraid.”
“I said that’s enough.”
“And your fear made you do things you never would have done otherwise.”
“Shut up!” Vivian draws the gun and points it at her, the pistol wobbling in her hand.
“You saw the women who couldn’t have girls as weak, weak like you felt when you couldn’t tell anyone what happened. And you couldn’t stand to look at them, so you sent them away even though they ended up enduring horrible things. Just like you did.”
Vivian’s face is tear streaked, heart-crushingly vulnerable, and Zoey can see the young woman she’d spoken about still inside her.
“Please,” Zoey says. “Come with me.”
Vivian sniffles as she lowers the pistol. She stands still, gazing down through swollen eyes at the floor before shaking her head. “No.” She looks at Zoey and now the scared young woman is gone. “I won’t leave everything I’ve worked for. Not now that we’re this close. You have a decision to make, Zoey. Either cooperate and help me finish what I started, or you’ll never see either of your daughters again.”
Zoey opens her mouth to say something, not truly sure of what it will be, as a deep, throbbing alarm begins to sound from everywhere around them.
50
Lee crawls the last few feet to where Ian lies, overlooking the vast open canyon.
The old man has folded his coat several times to provide a rest for his rifle, which he holds tight to his shoulder, staring through the large scope atop its bulk.
“What do you see?” Lee whispers.
“Barely enough light but it looks like they’re amassing along the western edge of buildings. They’re holding there out of range of the ARC’s guns.”
Lee looks to the area Ian mentioned and the drop combined with the overall distance creates an unpleasant swirl in his vision. He clamps his eyes shut and reopens them.
The eastern horizon is growing brighter by the minute, slowly shedding more and more light across the vista below like a shade being drawn up from a window. Without the amplification of a scope or binoculars, along with the fact that they’ve shut off all their lights, he can’t see Hiraku’s army anymore.
“Can you see Merrill and the others?”
Ian is quiet for nearly a minute, panning the rifle with mechanical fluidity before saying, “No.”
“Should I radio him again?”
“I don’t think so. We don’t want to draw any unneeded attention to them.”
“Then what do we do?” When the old man doesn’t answer, Lee puts a hand on his shoulder. “Ian?”
“I don’t know. We’ll . . .” He stops, and Lee can see the line of one eyebrow draw down.
“What is it?”
“There’s men on the plateau below us.”
“How many?” Lee’s chest tightens at the thought of his daughter still sleeping soundly inside the house behind them.
“Four that I can see. One is standing, looking out at the ARC, another sitting at a table with some kind of computer. Two more guarding their position.”
“What are they doing?”
“I can’t tell.”
A vague humming begins rising in Lee’s ears and he wonders briefly if it’s the rush of blood in his veins driven by the hammering of his heart, but a second later Ian’s head comes up from the scope and he glances around as well, looking for the sound’s source.
“What is that?” Lee manages before something catches the corner of his eye.
From behind the farthest slope to the south, a strange shape appears, bringing with it a slight increase in the humming sound. At first he thinks it might be a bird, possibly a hawk or vulture of some kind gliding calmly on a draft of air, but then he catches a strobe of light, first from one wingtip, then the other. The plane increases in size, shape defining in the breaking light. It is dark in color with a half-rounded nose and several sharp and jutting tail fins behind its long, straight wings. As it glides closer, the sound of its approach seems to diminish instead of increasing, and the sight of it stabs a lance of unease through Lee, pinning him to the ground.
“What the hell?” Ian breathes as the plane banks hard, a sudden alarm issuing from the confines of the ARC, its bass emission carrying eerily across the valley.
Gunshots begin popping from the top of the ARC. First one, then a steady rattle as the snipers on the walls fire at the aircraft.
The harsh chatter of the autoguns overshadows the other gunfire, and streaking lines of light he realizes are bullets zip toward the plane.
A plume of white smoke comes from under the aircraft and for a beat Lee thinks it’s been hit, but then something leaps from beneath one wing, moving faster than his eye can follow.
A split second, then a shrieking hits his ears, reminding him of the battleship’s shells before they connected with the mainland.
There is a blinding flash of light in the center of the ARC’s southwestern wall and a ball of fire erupts from its middle, spewing tendrils of flame, concrete, and black smoke in all directions.
“My God,” Ian says as he hears his own voice make an inarticulate sound of horror, which is drowned out by a concussive blast that thunders toward them through the canyon and flutters his eardrums, shaking the organs inside his body.
The aircraft angles up, cruising through the cloud of debris before skimming over the ARC into clear air.
An enormous chunk of cement tips from the wall, falling like a gargantuan tree into the river. At its top, Lee spots a tiny, flailing dot he realizes is a man, now plummeting with the tons of cement into the water. The splash cascades up onto land, washing fifty yards or more onshore.
Through the smoking ruin, Lee sees a V-shaped darkness his mind doesn’t compute for a moment until he realizes he’s looking into the promenade that circles the main building within the walls.
The aircraft flies up, closer and closer, banking until it is coming straight for them.
It’s going to kill them. Any second another missile will detach and r
ace toward their position and there will be nothing left of either him or Ian.
Instead the plane turns, hissing by them and tipping once more to angle back the way it came, the first rays of sun flashing off its wings.
It levels out and descends into the valley, dropping lower and lower until it is in line with the ARC again.
51
Merrill eases back farther into the small room, his shoulder brushing Tia’s.
He shoots her a look before holding up one finger and pointing toward the sounds coming from the next room. She nods, leveling her rifle.
There is the snap of dirt beneath a boot.
A breathed question.
Another step. Closer.
Merrill touches the safety, making sure it’s off, and steps forward into the doorway.
Two men stand half turned away from him, their focus on the window facing out toward the river. As Merrill clears the doorway one of them issues a surprised grunt and raises a pistol.
Merrill’s finger twitches on the trigger, the report a thunderclap in the room.
The man jerks, legs folding, his hand finding the bullet hole in his chest as Merrill feels a concussion beside him as Tia fires, and the second man stumbles backward, connecting with the wall. He tries to raise the rifle in his hands but it becomes too heavy and he drops forward, crumpling to his face.
Merrill sweeps the outer doorway with his rifle, ready to open fire on the next person who comes through it, but already he’s turning to the window, toward the sound of muffled gunshots. The deep strafing boom of the autoguns starts a second later, and before he can move, an explosion shakes the entire house, rattling the windows that are still whole in their frames.
52
“Direct hit,” Cree says in an almost bored voice.
Hiraku watches the operator tip the joystick before glancing to the drone, which mirrors the movement. “Again.”
“There’s already a substantial breach. If the men go now in the boats they’ll be inside in a matter of minutes.”
“Again.”
Cree licks his lips. “Yes sir.”
The drone banks and coasts overhead, nearly soundless after the deafening explosion of its missile. It swoops lower, falling in line with the facility again.
“Targeting now. Ready to fire.”
Hiraku doesn’t hesitate. “Fire.”
53
“Ian?”
Lee feels a noose cinch his throat closed. Within the panic and fear his senses sharpen to needlepoints.
The drone hums.
His jaw aches from clenching it.
He can smell the scorched scent of the explosion on the air.
And worst of all he sees the other missiles beneath the plane’s wings.
Which one? Which one will kill Zoey?
“Ian,” he manages again, but the older man isn’t focused on the aircraft anymore. He’s sighting through his scope down at the plateau below them. “What?” Lee starts to say, but it’s cut off with the deep blast of Ian’s rifle.
54
An enormous insect buzzes by Hiraku’s ear and he instinctively shrinks away.
But of course it’s not an insect—he would know the sound of a high-powered rifle’s bullet anywhere. He turns in time to see nearly three quarters of Cree’s head shear away in a fan of brain matter and bone so shockingly white in the morning sun it almost transfixes him before he drops to a crouch.
Cree rocks to the side in his chair, taking the joystick control with him.
The drone yaws hard to the right.
Cree’s finger death-twitches on the trigger.
One of the remaining five unfired missiles ignites, launching from its attachment as Hiraku watches, mind still trying to comprehend what’s happened in the last two seconds.
The missile rips past the ARC, going wide by a dozen yards, and slams into the dam beyond.
The explosion fills the valley with its roar even as the drone follows the missile’s path through the smoke and massive pieces of shrapnel.
There is no pause to the detonation, only a multiplying of it.
The sound staggers Hiraku to the ground. It is mind splitting. His blood vibrates in his veins. He tries to brace himself but falls to his back and a single thought surfaces in his mind.
Sniper.
The word doesn’t need summons; it is there even as he starts scanning the hills around him. The shot came from high and to the left, nearly behind them.
There.
A flash of movement, already gone.
He flips to his stomach and crawls to a nearby boulder. From behind it he scans for the two men who had accompanied them to the lookout. Gone. Fled. So be it.
Voices are screaming from the radio on his collar.
“This is Hiraku. Status report.”
A man comes back, he thinks it’s Draiman. “What the hell happened?”
“Cree is down. We have a sniper somewhere in the hills.” He rises enough to scan where he’d spotted movement earlier but sees nothing. Risking the exposure, he stands, gazing down into the valley.
The vaporized concrete hangs in a solid cloud above the river, obscuring the face of the dam and the southern edge of the facility’s walls. The larger guns that were mounted facing the town are silent or gone from the first missile strike. In their place is an erratic pop of gunfire that’s coming not only from the remaining men on the wall but also from his own soldiers, their forms emerging from the town’s cover to fire back.
“Full assault,” Hiraku says over the ringing in his ears.
“Sir?”
“I said full assault. Get the boats in the water and lay down cover fire. Penetrate the outer wall.”
“But the dam, sir! Look at the dam!”
A fountain of water sprays from a crater in the center of the sprawling structure. It curves down and splashes into the river below, forced by the titanic pressure behind the barrier. As he watches a chunk that must be at least the size of a tractor-trailer dislodges from the damage and plummets, bouncing once off the face of the dam, before plunging into the water.
He catches himself walking forward, transfixed at the spectacle, then he remembers Cree and how his skull looked glinting in the light. Hiraku backs himself behind the stone barricade, scanning the hill above him again before glancing down to the dam.
“Sir?” Draiman says, and Hiraku can hear his fear as if the man is speaking through a mouthful of it.
“Full assault.”
“But sir, I—”
“Damn you, listen to me! Full assault! Now!”
His voice echoes loudly, his hearing slowly returning. There is a terrible pause in the other man’s response. They will abandon him now, at the height of his fury, his crusade. If Shirou were here, there would be no question of his command; orders would simply be followed. It only amplifies his rage at the woman who took his friend from him, at everyone under his command, at himself.
The anger begins its pressure-cooker build, rising slowly before rocketing upward in a haze of red that mists his vision, and he grabs the radio to give the order again, but Draiman’s voice issues from it before he can.
“Yes sir. Full assault.”
He unclenches his hand from where it was gripping the sharp corners of the rock he hides behind, noting absently the blood running from multiple cuts on his palm. He wipes it on his pant leg before reaching into his chest pocket to draw out the folded paper.
He’s taken to holding it when no one is around, never unfolding it; he hasn’t been able to do that in some time. Even in the company of his men he’s found himself reaching to touch the pocket where it’s concealed.
Now he grips it tightly, the paper creasing in his fist, yet it is like a weapon, bolstering his resolve.
He inches forward enough to see his men moving toward the river on the bank far below. A barrage of gunfire pulses up and down their ranks as several squadrons move the tactical boats to the water’s edge, even as the dam emits a low,
almost primordial groan and another fountain of water springs from its center.
It will hold, or it won’t, he thinks, unsnapping the holster at his hip and drawing out his pistol. Either way he’ll get what he wants.
And for now, I can be more useful elsewhere.
Hiraku sidles from the boulder’s cover into the nearest draw and begins to climb.
55
“What is that?” Zoey says, as the alarm blares again.
But Vivian isn’t listening to her. Her mother’s attention is focused on one of the several speakers set in the ceiling, a look of calm perplexity on her face. The baby wriggles in her blankets, and when Zoey looks down, she finds herself eye to eye with her daughter.
The blue vividness of her gaze drowns out everything else.
The alarm is still sounding, but from somewhere distant. For the second time in a matter of moments, Zoey opens her mouth without knowing what she will say. How do you greet a part of you you’ve never met before? For a heartbeat it is only the two of them, looking at one another.
The spell breaks as a static ripping sound invades the room overpowering the alarm. She has time to wonder why the noise would remind her of Riverbend, but then it crescendos to something beyond parsing.
Her eardrums fill with a reverberating blast as the floor shivers beneath them, tipping hard enough that she has to place an arm out on the couch to brace them.
Books rain from the shelves like injured birds.
The bottle of liquor falls from the desk.
Vivian stumbles to the floor as the lights flicker and plunge into full darkness before coming back on at half their power.
The baby squirms and begins to cry, eyes shutting with the effort. Her shrieks are muted, faraway beneath the buzzing in Zoey’s ears, though now the girl has nothing to compete with, the alarm silent. She climbs to her feet, holding her daughter close as Vivian sits up, pushing herself to her knees.
“What the hell was that?” Vivian asks. Her hand comes up a dark red and it takes Zoey a second to realize the other woman fell in the Director’s blood.