by Mick Farren
"I've been outside." Just to make sure there was no doubt: "I've been on the surface."
He held his arms straight out at his side. When your life's on the line, it's no disgrace to look like a crucifixion. There was no answer for almost a minute, then more lights came on and the sungun went out. Vickers tried to blink away the lingering afterimage. The sungun had been mounted on the turret of a light tank. Carmen Rainer was sitting in the turret, leaning on the fire control of the multicannon. She was smoking a cigar. Grouped around the base of the tank were four soldiers, Yabu and Parkwood.
"Lloyd-Ransom told us to ignore your bullshit and just blow you away."
"Perhaps he didn't want you to hear what I had to say." Carmen Rainer flicked away her cigar butt.
"Orders are orders, Vickers."
Vickers knew why the hair-trigger Rainer had been put in charge. She glanced down at Yubu.
"Shoot him."
Yabu had a frag gun pointed at Vickers' stomach. For long seconds he did nothing then, finally, he shook his head.
"No, I want to hear what he has to say."
Parkwood nodded in agreement.
"I definitely want to hear what he has to say."
The soldiers looked confused but also made no move against Vickers. Carmen Rainer began to climb out of the tank turret. As always, she was sleek in black leather. Angrily, she jumped down to the ground.
"We've got our orders."
Yabu shifted position so his frag gun was pointed at Rainer.
"I want to know what he's seen on the outside."
"How do you know he's been outside? He's probably lying."
"Everyone's heard what was supposed to have happened when they tortured Fenton."
"That's only a rumor."
Vickers wanted to know about this.
"What do you mean 'when they tortured Fenton'?"
It was Parkwood who answered.
"When you came up missing Lloyd-Ransom became exceedingly agitated. He ordered a runback through the surveillance tapes and the story goes that you and Fenton were spotted doing something weird on the first level. Fenton was arrested. Carmen here was one of the ones who picked him up. The story goes that he finally confessed that you'd found a way out. He must have been a good friend; he stood up to the worst they could do for close to five hours."
"Did he survive?"
"No."
"Did Cattermole's name come up?"
"Cattermole was executed."
"Damn."
"You caused quite a ripple."
Yabu had had enough of the conversation.
"I want to know what is outside."
Even Carmen Rainer's attention was focused on Vickers. He took a deep breath. This was the difficult part. He remembered how stubbornly he'd resisted the truth. He knew their reaction might be violent but he pressed ahead.
"There never was a third world war."
Rainer closed her eyes and shook her head.
"No, no, he's lying for sure now. Shoot him like we were told to."
Oddly, she made no move to shoot him herself. Even Parkwood looked as though he didn't believe a word that Vickers was saying.
"What are you talking about?"
"I swear to God. Almost immediately after I got outside I was picked up by an army patrol. There's a whole base out there. They've been watching the place since the bunker was sealed."
Yabu's frown was like something out of an ancient Japanese print.
"There was no nuclear war?"
"It came close, but at the last moment the Russians were able to put the brakes on and ask for help. As far as anyone could figure it, Lloyd-Ranson jumped the gun and sealed the bunker early."
"Are you saying that he's been keeping up some kind of charade for eighteen months?"
"He'd made himself king of the hill. He'd decided that he was the saviour of mankind. He couldn't face the fact that mankind had managed to get by without him."
Parkwood's expression was both bleak and grave.
"That would be extremely psychotic behavior."
Vickers lowered his arms.
"Well?"
Carmen Rainer jerked.
"I don't have to listen to this garbage."
There was a chrome automag in her hand. She swung it straight-armed at Vickers. At the same time, Parkwood's weapon went off. He was also armed with a frag gun. Close up, it made a hideous mess. Blood, tissue and fragments of black leather were spattered all over the side of the nearest tank. There was little left of Carmen Rainer from the chest up. Vickers twisted his body and swung the Yasha round into his hand. At the same time, everyone else dropped into a crouch, weapons thrust forward and eyes darting to determine who was on whose side and who was going to shoot at who. By a complete miracle, nobody opened fire and continued the slaughter to a disastrous conclusion. Vickers slightly lowered his machine pistol and straightened up. Parkwood let the still smoking frag gun hang by his side.
"I didn't think she was acting quite rationally either."
There was a general easing of the immediate tension. The soldiers, for the time being, seemed ready to go along with the two corpses. Yabu was also going with the flow but he was far from happy.
"Have you any proof of what you say?"
"I've got the LA Tribune from three days ago."
"Show me."
Vickers unfastened the top of his blue overall. He pulled out a folded newspaper. It was the same LA Tribune that the major had sent for when he'd demanded proof. He handed it to Yabu, who read part of the front page, rapidly flipped through the rest of the paper and then handed it to Parkwood. Parkwood's examination was slower and more thorough. Finally he carefully refolded it and handed it back to Vickers.
"I think we should go and ask Lloyd-Ransom some questions. You'll go with us."
Vickers gave him a searching look.
"Am I a prisoner?"
"I don't see why."
"Then you believe me?"
"I don't want to believe you. I'd hate to think that I wasted eighteen months in this place but I want to know the truth."
Lamas and some of the worst scum of the butcher squads were waiting when they came out into the bottoms from the elevators. It was the same setup that had been used on Herbie Mossman. The three corpses were a little more prepared. They came out fast and Parkwood had Lamas covered with his frag gun before he could give any order to fire. He advanced briskly up the slope of black marble.
"You hesitated just a little too long, Lamas. It's that lack of combat tuning. Your men could take us out but I'll still drop you where you stand."
"Why hasn't Vickers been shot?"
"Vickers has been outside."
"That's impossible."
"You know damn well that's not true. You were there when they tortured Fenton."
Vickers and Yabu came up the slope at a slightly slower pace. Surprisingly, the soldiers were right behind them, backing them up. They seemed to have less trouble accepting the idea that Lloyd-Ransom was insane than anybody. Vickers reached the top of the slope just in time to catch the end of the conversation. He glanced abruptly at Parkwood. Had he also been there when they had tortured Fenton? He didn't have time to think about it. The scum from the butcher squads were only marginally in check. Even if they bought the idea that there was a real world outside they might be a little ambivalent about returning to it and maybe facing trial for mass murder. That was in the future, however. For the moment they were quiet, although they obviously knew that something unique was going on. They were watching, slit-eyed, to see which way Lamas would jump.
Parkwood, who seemed to have taken charge, beckoned to Vickers.
"Give him the newspaper."
Vickers again hauled out the rapidly becoming dogeared copy of the Tribune. He handed it to Lamas. Lamas read the headlines, read the date and then started to leaf through it.
"It could be a fake."
"Vickers brought it back from the outside. Even if they could fake so
mething like that out there, it would mean that it's not a dead world."
"Maybe he faked it in here."
"Come on, Lamas, you know damn well that we don't have facilities down here to produce anything like this. This was printed on an old fashioned offset press. Do you know something we don't know?"
Lamas angrily folded the newspaper.
"I just don't believe this thing. It could rip the bunker apart."
"That's why we want to see Lloyd-Ransom."
Lamas's jaw clenched. He was plainly beset by some terrible doubts. He glanced back across the piazza to the tunnel entrances that led to the superpeoples' living quarters. In the end, he sighed.
"Yes. Something has to be very wrong. We'd better go talk to him."
They started across the piazza, Lamas and the three corpses. The soldiers and the butcher squad fell in behind them. They were halfway across, about level with the black obelisk, when Lamas motioned that they should all halt.
"There's a second line of defense."
Vickers glanced quickly at Park wood and Yabu.
"You've got to admit that this is something of a paranoid reaction to the fact that someone may have gone outside."
Neither of them replied. Lamas walked slowly forward. After about ten paces he halted again and called out in the direction of the tunnels.
"This is Lamas. Vickers has come back and he claims that he's been outside. A number of us feel that we should talk to the Leader. We need to discuss the situation."
No answer came back. Lamas walked forward again. He seemed edgy and his hands were half raised.
"This is Lamas, I'm coming in. Don't shoot."
The words acted like a signal. There was a burst of rapid fire from one of the tunnels.
"Sweet Jesus."
The first burst hit Lamas, the second raked the piazza. Vickers hit the ground and rolled. A splinter of marble gashed his cheek but he made it into the shadow of the obelisk. Parkwood slid in beside him. Yabu was also safe behind the slablike statue called Industry. A number of soldiers and butcher squad were sprawled dead on the ground. Parkwood surveyed the scene with hard, angry eyes,
"It looks like we've started something."
"It could be the beginning of the end."
Parkwood eased over and looked intently at Vickers.
"Are you telling the truth about the outside?"
"Of course I'm telling the truth."
"Christ." Parkwood shook his head as though trying to settle his thoughts. "This is more of a mess than I care to cope with."
There was another flurry of fire from the tunnels. This time it was directed further down the piazza, toward the elevators. Vickers looked back. A number of figures were diving for cover along the top of the incline that ran down the elevator banks. He recognized Eggy's war paint. Lloyd-Ransom's guards were firing on their own. This had to be the final going to ground.
It had become a siege. Parkwood continued to take control of the situation and both the military and the security forces seemed content to go along with him. Not that there was that much to go along with; there were at least three miniguns and other heavy automatic weapons set up in the bottom tunnels and there was no way to get past them apart from an all-out and very costly frontal assault. They had tried twice and there were more bodies littering the marble of the piazza. There had been no third attempt. Attackers and defenders bided their time and stayed under cover. As a standoff, it was virtually complete.
Parkwood and Vickers used a lull in the initial firing to crawl back from the shadow of the obelisk to the elevators. It was there, under cover of the incline, that a motley crew were gathering; military, security, all manner of odd individuals, all had heard that Vickers had been outside. They'd come to find out the truth. The gunfire had badly confused them but also convinced everyone there that something was terribly wrong in the bunker. In that moment of confusion, Parkwood moved. Listening to no agruments, he separated the unarmed from the armed. He had no time or use for the unarmed and they were sent back, out of the way, to the upper levels. Those who had weapons were quickly marshalled into a firing line along the top of the incline. He kept a few back in a small reserve that also secured the elevator entrances and kept out any more sensation seekers.
Eggy led the first rush. A small group of a dozen security had managed to get into the largest of the tunnels. In the tunnel, however, there had been no more cover. Only Eggy and Eight-Man, who'd been last in, came back. The second attack was a larger, all military affair. Deakin led this bold frontal assault and nobody came back. After this, there were no more attempts to do it the hard way. They simply waited. Food was brought and Parkwood started a group of non-coms organizing replacements and duty rotations. Now and again there would be fire from the tunnels, minimal and ineffectual, as though they only wanted to remind the attackers that they were there and could keep them ducking and crouching. Lloyd-Ransom had created himself a bunker within a bunker. He had also, at the same time, created a strange revolution in his kingdom. In the bottoms, they'd been divided into attackers and defenders, the beleaguered elite and the insurgents. The rest of the population watched. Unknown to any of those in the bottoms, the security cameras on the piazza had been patched to the other levels' regular video system. Bunker life had come to a full stop while the entire population clustered around the public screens and watched and waited.
"Tanks."
"Tanks?"
"We could bring down tanks, light tanks from the first level. A Puma would fit in one of those tunnels. They're wide enough. We could use tanks to root them out."
"How could you bring them down here from the first level?"
"They'd fit in the passenger elevators."
"They're too heavy, they'd snap the cables. You can't put a Puma tank in a passenger elevator."
"Are you certain about that?"
"Absolutely."
"Shit."
The idea of outside help had been mooted.
"If they're out there like Vickers says, why don't we let them come on in and do the dying? We've been down here for eighteen months. You could say we did our tour."
Eggy was the first one to put it into words. There was immediate agreement.
"Hell, we could walk away and leave Lloyd-Ransom right where he is. We could start evacuating the bunker right now. If you're telling the truth, Vickers, I could be in Vegas tomorrow night, shooting craps and talking to women wearing perfume and real clothes. I could sleep in a bed as big as a fucking swimming pool. Has anyone figured how much back pay we've got coming? Let's leave Lloyd-Ransom to someone else."
Eight-Man shook his head. His eyes were bloodshot and angry.
"If he's had me in here for eighteen months for no reason, I want him."
Vickers hoisted his Yasha and stood up.
"I want him too. I want him for Fenton but I don't see why we shouldn't bring in fresh troops to spearhead the first assault. I sure as hell don't want to be the first into those tunnels."
Parkwood looked around at the group at the impromptu strategy brainstorm. He didn't seem totally convinced.
"So what should we do?"
Vickers realized that it was primarily Parkwood's caution to which everyone was looking.
"I'd suggest that two of us go outside and talk with the army. It's my guess that they'll pretty much do what we want so long as they get the bunker back."
Parkwood seemed to be trying to stare his way into Vickers' mind.
"Are you sure this isn't some terrible devious doublecross?"
Vickers met the gaze.
"What do I have to do to convince you? What possible doublecross could there be?"
"I don't know, but if there is, I swear I'll kill you."
Eight-Man leaned toward Parkwood.
"You send me with him to the outside and if there's the slightest thing wrong, I'll kill him."
Vickers was getting a little tired of being accused and threatened.
"Isn't this caution g
etting a little obsessive?"
"What would you do if you were in our position?"
Further argument was interrupted by a disturbance by the elevators. The troops that were supposed to be stopping people coming out of the elevator doors were having a hard job holding back a jostling crowd of handlers who had presumably ridden down from the second level. There was a good deal of pushing and yelling. Vickers thought that he recognized Johanna from GLA 30 doing her full share at the very front of the struggling mass. Was it her? If it was, she'd had most of her hair cropped off since he'd seen her last.
"Mort! Hey Mort!"
"Johanna!"
He moved quickly toward the nearest guard. There was a certain degree of guilt in his speed. Their affair was, at best, a sporadic business. He always promised to come back soon but frequently weeks would go by before he saw her again. With all the women in the bunker, it was all too easy to be sidetracked.
"Let her through."
The guard, who was doing his best to avoid being clawed by an angry redhead, shook his head.
"I can't do that."
"Just let her through, goddamn it!" The guard shrugged. Johanna slipped quickly through the line. Immediately she threw her arms around Vickers' neck. Her breath smelled of gin and she was at least three-parts drunk. Suddenly he was in no mood for a romantic reunion. He held at her at arms' length.
"What the hell is this all about?"
"We're getting impatient up there. We want to know what's going on. Nobody would tell us anything so we came down here to find out."
"Getting drunk up there too?"
"So?"
"So you're in the way down here. There's people shooting at us and the last thing that we need is a bunch of drunk women who don't know what they're doing."
Behind them a mixture of soldiers and security were slowly herding the handlers back into the elevator car. Vickers jerked his thumb.
"Do you have any influence with these people?"
"You've been outside, haven't you?"
Vickers nodded.
"But I don't have time to tell you about it right now."
"What was out there?"
There was a desperate look in her eyes. Vickers sighed.
"There's people out there. The world is a lot less dead than we were led to believe."