“I heard, Mom.”
“Okay, okay.”
“And I’m not five years old.”
“I get it. Come with me.” She pulled Natalia toward the interior door.
“Should I strap in?” Leonard asked, fumbling on the table.
“Just lie down, Leonard. Head first. And keep your limbs straight. That’s right. I don’t care how much you wiggle. I’m just going to move you through.” Alina and Natalia disappeared behind the door with a glass window.
The machine roared to life and began clanging obnoxiously. Leonard wanted to cover his ears, but the conveyer belt was already rolling and he was pinned. He stretched out, arms at his side, and closed his eyes. As he moved into the machine, his anxiety level rose and a wave of claustrophobia engulfed him. He took deep breaths and tried to remain calm.
What seemed like hours later, the clamor ceased and the conveyer belt glided swiftly in the opposite direction. Alina and Natalia emerged from the separate room as Leonard endeavored to right himself.
“Feel anything?”
He touched his chest and abdomen and shrugged. “Nothing.” He lifted his shirt.
Alina ran her fingers along his spine. “Everything looks normal. No hot spots. Let’s move. Natalia’s next.”
The girl’s eyes widened with fear. “Is it scary, Dad?” she whispered.
“Piece of cake,” he said, trying to sound positive.
“You’re lying.”
He grimaced. “Just a little claustrophobic. And loud. Alina, do you have any earplugs?”
She sighed, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a Kleenex. Tearing and rolling quarter sections into makeshift earplugs, she hastily planted them into Natalia’s ears. “Stop stalling, Leonard. I don’t know how much time we have.”
“Nobody’s going to bother us.”
She scowled at him and helped Natalia onto the table, gently placing her daughter’s arms at either side. She kissed her quickly and pulled Leonard into the side room.
Dark and oppressive, the small space contained two screens and a series of wires connected to computer. The room consisted of three walls — one facing the MRI, one at their back, and one to the right. The left was open and appeared to lead farther into the basement. Alina wasted no time firing up the machine. It rattled back to life, filling the air with its discordant rhythm. Her brow furrowed in concentration, she showed Leonard how to turn the machine on and what options to select so that he could operate the device when it was Alina’s turn.
Fifteen minutes later, Natalia jumped off the table looking relieved. Alina rushed out to inspect her. “Good to go.”
A second later, a faint bing sounded in the distance, indicating that the elevator had arrived at the basement floor.
Alina’s face paled. “Shh,” she commanded, flipping off the light. “Probably just someone getting supplies, but we don’t want them to find us here.”
Leonard strained to hear the emerging voices.
“Strangest noise, Ben. Where’s your Taser?”
“Relax, Stan. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Alina felt for Leonard’s arm and whispered in his ear, “You’ve got to go.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You two need to get out of here.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “Not without you.” His eyes adjusted to the dim light and he saw both fear and anguish on his wife’s face.
She shook her head and spoke gently as if addressing a child. “You have to go and take Natalia.”
“Where shall we meet?”
“No,” she said firmly.
“Where, Alina?” Leonard asked desperately.
The strange voices grew louder. “I don’t hear anything now,” one man said.
“This way,” the other replied.
The security guards seemed to move to one side, walking parallel to the MRI room, and then their voices grew softer again.
“We’ll wait it out,” Leonard whispered. “They’ll leave soon.”
Alina’s face hardened. “Take Natalia and leave. Out through there.” She pointed to the adjacent room in the direction of the missing wall.
“But—”
“Now!”
Natalia grabbed her mother’s arm. “Mom, let’s just hide back there.”
Alina bit her lip and suppressed an outburst of emotion. “God dammit. Leave. Both of you.” She shook Natalia’s arm away but refused to look her daughter in the eye. “I’m a liability now.”
Leonard balked. “Whoa. Slow down. You’re not a liability. What do you even mean by that?”
“You fool. I’ve still got a functioning transmitter.”
“We’ll wait until you go through the MRI.”
“Don’t you see? Even if they leave, these guys are going to rush right back down if they hear any more noise. In fact, who’s to say they won’t spend the afternoon here? It’s too late.”
“Mom.” Natalia sobbed softly, trying to keep her voice down.
Alina continued to ignore her daughter, and she focused on Leonard. “If we all run, they’ll follow, but if they find me here tinkering with the machine—”
“In the dark?”
“These guys don’t know anything,” she said dismissively. “I’ll tell them I’m looking for something that glows.” She pushed Leonard across the room and opened the door to the adjacent room. Shoving her husband and daughter through, Alina attempted to shut the door behind them, but Leonard stuck his foot against the frame.
“We can’t leave without you,” he whispered.
Alina’s face softened. “Yes, you can. Because I’m ordering you to. Because our daughter will go to prison if you don’t.”
“But you’ll end up in prison.”
“Nah.” She laughed unconvincingly. “I’ll head these guys off in five minutes.”
“But when they realize Natalia and I have fled, they’re bound to trace it back to you.”
The guards, having searched the area to the right, moved back toward the MRI room.
“Go!” Alina growled in the harshest tone she could manage at a whisper. Then her voice softened. “Please, Leonard…make it count.” She stomped on his foot. He jumped back involuntarily and she swiftly closed the door behind him. He tried to open it but she held fast.
He turned to face Natalia.
She folded her arms and blinked back tears. “I’m not leaving without Mom.”
The security guards approached, their voices clear and close.
“What’s in here, Stan?”
Without turning back, Leonard snatched his rigid daughter and dragged her farther into the basement. She struggled but, fortunately, did not scream.
“Shit,” he heard Alina say as they retreated. “Why did you turn on the light?” she scolded the guards. “I almost had it. What the hell are you two doing down here?”
Mumbling apologies followed, but Leonard could not make out their words any longer. He saw an exit in the far corner, and he hustled, pulling Natalia by the hand. No longer resistant, the girl followed, tears pouring down her face.
Leonard pushed open the door and a gust of fresh air wafted through his hair. A large stone stairwell rose up into a parking garage. Leonard hauled Natalia over the threshold and the door closed, clicking into place.
Natalia turned back and yanked the handle in vain. She cried hysterically. The locked door did not budge.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Leonard drove on auto pilot for about thirty minutes, Natalia sniffling occasionally by his side. He drove along I-225, a constant reminder of the accident that led to Tommy Richardson’s death. When he pulled onto I-25 South, Natalia spoke.
“Aren’t we supposed to be going north?”
“Huh?”
“North.” She gestured behind them. “You know, the other direction?”
Leonard looked through his rearview mirror, befuddled but slowly slithering back to reality.
“To I-70?” Natalia snapped.
“Oh. Right. I’ll take C-470 around.”
Silence resumed. Natalia kept her head turned, and she studied their surroundings as if she had never seen the Denver Tech Center before. Leonard was not certain if they even called it that anymore. It appeared to be rows of federal office buildings branching out into public housing projects. Nothing about the mess appeared remotely technical, but little did it matter anymore.
Now fully aware of their circumstances, Leonard experienced a wave of pain and guilt. Shame really. He felt ashamed. Why didn’t I let her go first?
As if reading his mind, Natalia turned suddenly and accused her father. “This is all your fault.”
It is.
“If you had let Mom go first then…then…” Her voice trembled.
“Then she’d be here instead of me.”
Natalia did not answer. She swiveled her head as far as it could possibly go. Sniffling followed, off and on, as they drove in silence.
She’s right.
Grief-stricken, Leonard maneuvered the car west on C-470. He had only just found Alina, after all those years in a ten-by-ten room obsessed over nothing. Dreams about spending time with her, making up for all those lost years, had already made their way into his vision of the future. Now those dreams dissolved into a nightmare, a nightmare that crawled around inside of him like a wounded little creature waiting to be put out of its misery.
The layers of the Rocky Mountains in the distance, which never failed to charm Leonard in his youth, barely touched his senses. As they neared the mountains, snatches of a twelve-foot high chain link fence, topped with razor wire, appeared to run along the foothills. Leonard noticed the barrier and shook his head quietly. It ought to have shocked him, but he had grown numb to the endless absurdities. As the road curved north and they continued their journey, Leonard willed himself not to look at the fence or contemplate its significance. Pressing the gas pedal, he zoomed toward the I-70 and C-470 junction. The road was deserted. The once vibrant highway seemed ghostly.
Approaching the cloverleaf exit to I-70 west, Leonard slowed down dramatically. As he rounded the bend, he glanced to the north.
Suddenly, he gasped. “Oh my God!” he shouted, slamming on the brakes and pulling off onto the shoulder. He leapt out of the car and ran across a patch of grass to the edge of an adjacent road.
Natalia followed.
“What the hell is this?” He threw his arms in the air then jerked them back, covering his mouth with his hands. Shock caused his body to shake.
Natalia reached out and pulled one of his hands away from his face, gently guiding it to her side, maintaining a firm grasp. She gazed out onto the horizon, but remained silent.
The area between I-70 and Colfax had been razed and lay barren. As far as the eye could see, ugly gray buildings covered the area north of Colfax. What once were the cities of Golden and Arvada now contained miles of stone buildings with tiny windows. A massive chain link fence, crowned with razor wire, ran along Colfax, disappearing from view to the east and ambling up to and along the hogback to the west. Seeming to reach out into eternity, the hideous complex confounded Leonard’s senses.
“Is this a prison?” he whispered, turning to face his daughter.
She nodded.
“It’s huge.”
The young girl looked at the ground and said, “My teacher told us they are consolidating the nations prisons in Denver. I’ve seen pictures, but—”
“All the criminals in the nation are coming here?”
“I think most of them already are.”
Leonard twisted his hand in hers, causing Natalia to let go. Slumping, he found a place to sit on the side of the road. Natalia joined him.
The Stasi Satellite execution plan floated to the forefront of his mind. He remembered that there had been no addresses from northern Metro Denver on the light fixture refitting schedule. Why hadn’t that struck him as odd at the time?
“What have they done?” he muttered.
Silence.
“Where did they put all those people?”
“Huh?”
“There must have been a half million people living north of here. Where did they go?”
She shrugged.
Vivid images of the government housing projects flooded Leonard’s brain. Of course. He stood up and gazed out into the distance. Part of the shock had already worn off; he was no longer trembling. “I wonder how far it goes? Looks like miles.”
He glanced back as if expecting a response. His daughter continued to stare at the ground.
A foreboding sense of helplessness engulfed Leonard as he appraised their situation. If the MRI procedure had worked, and that was a rather significant if, their transmitters had been disabled and all they had to do was get beyond the various checkpoints that lay ahead. Theoretically, they were untraceable.
But what if they could not get past all the barriers?
What if they were pursued?
Unless they had a good head start, the interstate was a death sentence — large, smooth, and easy to monitor. It might be wise to exit I-70 and find an alternate route. The adjoining highways and numerous mountain towns were likely to have fallen into ruin or been taken over by the military.
What if the car broke down?
What if they ran out of water?
What if they were captured?
The what-ifs painted a story board of frightening scenarios, each one more dismal than its predecessor. In fact, the more Leonard considered this dream of escaping to the promised land of Grand Junction, the more quixotic the idea seemed.
He felt his daughter’s gaze upon his back, and he turned his head. Beautiful Natalia, with gorgeous skin and steel-blue eyes. On the eve of her thirteenth birthday, she expected her Don to hoist her up and whisk her away from the nightmare that was her destiny, battling whatever windmills that stood in their way.
A series of recent memories flashed through Leonard’s mind with a strobe-like intensity.
Natalia’s friend Linda. Her slightly rounded belly and sad eyes.
The smell of sweat and old mops.
A dilapidated motel.
The boy, Dishi, sitting on the floor, blood running from his mouth.
Alina’s ashen face and harsh tone, insistent that he take Natalia and make a run for it.
Why couldn’t you be here now, Alina?
A wave of guilt resurfaced. All those months Alina spent planning and saving gas rations, risking everything by fraternizing with members of the underground…what good had it achieved? Alina would never escape. More than likely, she would eventually face questions about what had happened in that cloistered MRI room in the basement of the Neil Nelson Medical Center. She might end up in prison.
Perhaps if Leonard remained in Denver, nothing would come of their little transgression. Natalia would return to school. Leonard would report to the base on Friday morning and face his fate. Still, maybe Alina would be spared.
Then again, maybe it was already too late.
His eyes locked with those of his innocent daughter, Leonard recalled Alina’s parting words. The final request of a woman who sacrificed herself for their safety.
Please, Leonard…make it count.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After they had settled back into the car, Leonard and Natalia continued west. It wasn’t long before the Western Gate came into view. Watchtowers, razor wire, and a flurry of activity awaited them in the distance. A series of barriers forced Leonard to move into the furthest right lane. They slowed to a stop as they approached the Gate.
Third in line behind a blue Chevy sedan and a red Tahoe, Leonard and Natalia waited anxiously, the twenty-foot Western Gate looming like a fortress above them. Four watchtowers guarded the barrier, an ominous structure that consisted of two parallel fences approximately two hundred yards apart. Topped with razor wire, the chain link fencing stretched across the gap in the hogback, secured by layers of cement molded into the rugged rocks. In the unus
ed lanes of I-70, car-length cement barriers seriously deterred any driver who might consider deviating from the prescribed course.
In the buffer zone between the gates, a small brick building sat on what once was eastern bound I-70. Armed soldiers, several of whom were partnered with German shepherds, roamed the area between the fences, taking large strides in repetitive patterns.
In addition to massive gates, cylindrical bars blocked the entrance on both sides. They slowly lifted for a few minutes every time a single car was allowed to pass. The process was tediously slow and Leonard wondered how many citizens found a meager day trip worth the bother.
Craning his neck, Leonard inspected the watchtowers. They stood at least forty feet tall. Huge cement blocks formed a base, presumably containing a flight of stairs and perhaps an elevator. The structure on top, a square room with dark windows, could facilitate eight to twenty men for the purpose of observation. On closer examination, Leonard noticed four holes along each of the two walls visible from his viewpoint. The holes were located below the windows and large enough to accommodate a sniper’s rifle.
At that moment, it really hit him. The Gate, the base, tens of thousands of guards and scientists, trillions of dollars in materials and technology — all devoted to the act of imprisoning the very people whose labor made the borders and labs possible. It was surreal, and the absurdity of it crushed Leonard’s spirit.
The Tramer’s car, now second in line, idled impatiently. On the opposite side of the far gate, Leonard saw a queue of a dozen or so cars lined up in what was previously a westbound lane, waiting to return to Denver. Department of Transportation and Safety employees hovered around the front vehicle on both sides of the Western Gate. Leonard tapped his fingers nervously, worried about what he and Natalia might encounter when he pulled the silver Toyota into position number one.
Leonard noticed that the DTS employee talking to the driver in front of him held a portable retina scan device. The driver leaned toward the scanner. It should be no problem, Leonard comforted himself. Max’s computer wiz’ had promised to alter the retina scan and fingerprint database by the time they headed for the border.
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