“I’m sorry, Nita.” Maybe she saw her father in Dan Greely.
“I’m not just wishing.” She clung to his arm as he started for the bunker. “Carter, I know who did it. He admitted it. He gave himself away. It’s Johnny Seldon. It was so easy for him to use you. I’m so sorry.”
“Johnny?” Her accusation stopped him. “Nita, get out of here now. You’re going to get killed.”
“He wanted you to find it . . . he took you up there to find it. That’s why he came up there the other day. To plant it. He went back after he gave Jeremy and I a ride into town.”
“How do you know this?” He twisted savagely out of her grasp. Because Johnny had been up there. “Tell me how come you’re so sure.” A shot boomed out and he ducked, pulling her flat. “Stay down. I’m going to have to get you out of here somehow.”
“Dan.” She bolted to her feet and ran, upright, a perfect target for anyone in the riverbed.
Carter swore, and scrambled after her as best he could. She vanished down into the old channel. At least it was out of sight of much of the riverbed. He slid down after her, calling her crazy and an idiot, afraid for her. He rounded a spire of water-worn lava and halted in his tracks.
Hastings sprawled face-down in the dust between the ridges of lava. His face was turned toward Carter and his eyes stared sightlessly at the rocks. Dark blood stained the dust beneath him.
Greely leaned against the rocks less than ten feet from Hastings’s body, a large-caliber revolver in his hand. Carter looked at him, felt no surprise.
Nita stood squarely between them.
He watched her, watched Greely, his gun in his hand. Greely didn’t even seem to notice them. He stared at the gun in his hand with a confused expression on his face, let it drop into the dust. It landed with the dull sound of metal on stone.
“Don’t,” Nita said softly.
“You are some bastard,” Carter said softly.
“No.” Greely’s voice was slow and thick. “I didn’t . . .”
Nita stepped back against Greely, shielding him with her body, her face full of pain.
Carter edged sideways, purpose beating in his head. The scales were almost balanced. Almost. He might be able to yank her out of the way before Greely could reach for the gun. He just stood there. Looking at it.
“Stop.” Nita said. “You hear me, first.” Her cold, icy tone made him glance at her. “Johnny is behind this. With Major Delgado, I think. At least he shot at Renny and I when we left for Portland.”
“I’ve heard you on the subject of Dan Greely,” he snapped. Delgado. Yeah, he was for sure part of this. “Prove that Johnny is behind this.”
“Johnny told me he hadn’t planted the things at the house and he was lying. He recognized Rico, the name of the hacker who planted the fake information to tie the general and Dan to Pacific Biosystems. He told me he wasn’t behind the sabotage and he was lying.”
“He wasn’t lying, Nita.”
“Nobody can lie to me, Carter.” She faced him, fists clenched at her sides, her head up, meeting his stare. “I hear what you’re feeling inside . . . what everyone feels. Do you understand? When you lie, I can always feel it. You can’t hide a lie from me. Not ever.”
He shook his head.
“Right now, you’re doubting. You think it maybe was Johnny.” She said each word flatly, without inflection. “You’re thinking that he could have done all this. And you’re afraid that it’s true. What the hell do you owe this man? You’re nothing to him.”
She flinched as he jerked, fear bright on her face.
“Did you think I was going to shoot you?” He looked down at the Beretta, lowered it.
She was right. About his doubts.
And the debt.
She shouldn’t be able to be that right. Nobody knew.
Tears gleamed on her face. “Dan didn’t shoot this man,” she said. “He isn’t behind this. If you wait, I can give you the proof. You have to wait, Carter.”
His hands were shaking. Pacific Biosystems. That was the tie in. Johnny had said something about them, had jumped on Carter when he had followed up on it. If she was telling the truth. About reading minds.
Half an hour ago, a man had filled the dry riverbed with an imaginary flood.
Carter shoved the Beretta back into its holster and lifted his head to look Dan Greely in the face. “How did you get here?”
“Someone . . . grabbed me. Out of . . . your jail.” He spoke with an effort and seemed barely able to stay on his feet.
“Maybe it’s a frame. I don’t know.”
Nita gave a small, choked cry, her face turning up to the rocks above them, her body stiffening.
“You fool.” Delgado rose from behind tumbled boulders. “You dumb asshole. Why didn’t you just shoot him? Then everything would fit, and we’d be home free.”
He’d been there all the time. Carter stared up at him, keeping his hands away from the gun and still. Delgado’s eyes were on Nita, black holes in his dust-grimed face. “You hick bitch, you messed it all up. You want proof?”
“Nita, down!” Jeremy’s voice, hoarse and urgent.
Carter caught a glimpse of movement, blond hair from the corner of his eye. Delgado swung the barrel his way, then jerked it back toward Nita, Dan lunged for her, stumbling and clumsy, too slow. Carter yanked the Beretta from its holster, heart pounding. Delgado saw him and the rifle barrel swung back in Carter’s direction, moving too fast.
“No,” Nita screamed, leaping straight up the bank at him.
They were all moving now and the rifle barrel jerked and wavered. Carter brought the Beretta up just as Delgado fired. The short burst of ugly sound crashed from rock to rock, and the Beretta bucked in Carter’s hand. The slug caught Delgado in the chest, spun him sideways. He skidded down the slope in an avalanche of stones and dirt.
Behind him, Nita cried a hoarse note of anguish.
Carter turned slowly, not wanting to see. It wasn’t Nita. It was Jeremy. He lay sprawled on his back and she crouched beside him, her face twisted. Bright blood soaked the bottom of his shirt. A lot of blood. Dan went awkwardly to his knees beside her. He fumbled his shirt off, wadded it into a pad. Cold inside, Carter touched Jeremy’s throat. He had a pulse; thready and uneven but there.
“He’s dying,” Nita said.
Her eyes scared the hell out of him. She felt this. His last doubt vanished.
“Try to stop the bleeding,” he snapped at Dan. He had his cell out, was calling for paramedics, pronto. Snapped orders into the phone.
“Hurry,” Dan said.
Carter started for the bunker and the trucks, his ribs screaming. He was shaking by the time he reached it, clammy with icy sweat. Back up med teams were arriving from the base and he met one on their way to answer his call, sent them scrambling down to Jeremy.
He wanted to follow them. Not yet. He had to find the Rangers’ CO, pronto. Sort out the confusion, assess injuries, Shunt security, and the needs of the moment. Troops were reassembling, shaken, eyes flicking up the riverbed as if another flood could appear at any moment. Rumors were flying. Ghost flood. He heard that twice before he found the Rangers and their CO. Good enough, he thought. He sent people down for Hastings and Delgado, got a medic to give him painkillers and enough amphetamine to keep him on his feet.
The stretcher team hurried past with Jeremy, IV bag swinging. “How is he?” Carter asked, got a head-shake in reply. Alive, still. He could hope. Carter saw no sign of Nita or Greely. They had vanished. He issued strict orders against retaliation against locals in any form, saying a silent prayer it would keep them safe.
He sent out details to search for any injured people who might still be in the riverbed. Soldiers and locals both, and don’t miss any locals, he told them. It was time to start healing this breach, but it was going to be a damned tough breach to heal. The bodies were coming in. Six locals, so far. Two Corps people, not including Delgado and Hastings. For the moment, he was letting them rema
in victims of the riot, so that made four. Slowly he sorted through the mess as the day waned into dusk.
The painkillers didn’t help much, and even cranked to the eyebrows with amphetamines he finally had to stop. Or he was going to end up on a stretcher, too. He leaned against the side of a truck, his coverall stiff with blood seeping from the surgery site. The doc was going to scream at him, he thought fuzzily. The sun was going down and shadows streaked the dry riverbed. He could see a stretch of the east bank from here. Once a park must have occupied that space. The dusty ground was divided into little rectangles by the remains of asphalt paths and parking strips. People had probably parked their RVs or pitched tents there in the old days. Now dust drifted over the curbs, and only stumps remained of the trees that must have shaded the campground.
Suddenly he wanted to see Jeremy’s version of that campground, wanted to see grass, leaves. Maybe the ghosts of kids playing, swimming in the river? Carter wondered if those kids had lived to see the river go dusty and dry as they sunk the Pipe. Only so much water existed and a lot of people needed it. If Jeremy died, he’d never know what that damn park had looked like.
Now he had to think about Johnny. Carter closed his eyes, remembering the day he’d come home from school. He’d called her name, even though she was often out of it, doing the pills she got from Doctor Warrington, after she’d finished with his big house. He knew why Warrington had paid Carter’s tuition to the pricey school. Everyone knew. And he heard her cry some nights, when she came back late. He wondered why she had cut her wrists instead of using some of the many many pills she had.
He had called 911. Because that’s what you did. And then . . . Warrington had walked in. He had looked at her and turned to leave. Just like that.
Carter didn’t remember much after that — just blurry images of Warrington on the floor, and paramedics, and cops. They cuffed him and hauled him off to jail. The images were like someone else’s old photos, found in a drawer. He had been just too old for juvenile court. And the charge had been murder. Johnny’s dad had paid for the lawyer and the expensive experts who had testified that Mr. Warrington had died of an aneurysm that would have happened anyway, and not because Carter had hit him. They pointed out to the jury the shame that Carter had lived with, and brought in teachers from the expensive school to testify to the bullying they hadn’t much bothered to stop at the time.
He ended up with an assault conviction and a suspended sentence.
Because of Johnny.
Carter wiped his face, feeling sweat and mud beneath his fingers. Time to finish up fast, before the drugs wore off. Time enough, later, for Nita’s proof. And Johnny. He turned away from the dusty park with its ghosts of playing children. The riot was over but it wasn’t an ending. Even if they got the water back on tonight, some people were going to lose their crops. When would the next flow cut come down? The struggle along this riverbed would never end. Not until the rains came back. Carter took another painkiller and had an NCO drive him back to the base.
He stopped in at Operations to make sure that the flow meters in The Dalles were being reset. By morning, they’d be back to the original settings. Maybe that would be soon enough, he thought. For at least some of the farmers. He leaned against the door of Operations, staring up at the dry glitter of the stars. He hoped Nita and Dan had made it back to the farm okay. This wasn’t the time to send soldiers through The Dalles to check. With an effort, he straightened, and headed for the infirmary.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Hospitals smelled alike, he thought. Military or civilian. Carter tried to decipher the odor as he waited for the doctor. Disinfectant, urine, and fear? He looked up as the doctor stormed into the sterile little waiting room. She wore blood spotted-surgical greens and her mouth pressed into a straight line as she faced him. “What the hell are you doing? You had surgery less than forty-eight hours ago. The only reason I didn’t keep you in here then was that you said you’d stay in bed. Do you know how very lucky you are not to have bled to death today? I’m admitting you right now.”
“Not yet.” Carter raised a hand. “Believe me, if I’ve lived this long, I can last another couple of hours. Then I’ll go to bed. I promise.”
“I’ll remind you of that when the stretcher detail brings in your body.” Her shoulders slumped and fatigue etched lines around her mouth. “You wanted to know about your civilian. He was the worst that came in, but he’s stable. In Recovery, so you can’t see him.” She sighed. “I did the best I could, Colonel, but the bullet passed close to his spine, and he sustained some damage that’s going to need stem cells to fix.” She stared past him at the pastel-green wall. “Any chance he has good health insurance?”
“What kind of damage are you talking about?”
“Too soon to tell.” The tired eyes got more tired. “Maybe paralysis from the hips down if there’s no intervention. Maybe only partial loss of use. Can you give me some ID and any kind of history on this guy?”
“His legal name is Jeremy Barlow and he was born in the Dry with the joint deformities he has now. That’s all I know.” Carter sat down hard on a chair.
“Colonel . . .” The doctor hesitated. “What do you know about this . . . ghost flood? Everybody’s talking about it.”
“He did it.” Carter raised his head, met her dark eyes. “The guy you just patched up. It was . . . an illusion. He saved a lot of lives with it, doctor. Pretty damn bitter reward, if you ask me.” His lips twisted. “Don’t be surprised by what you see as he comes out of anesthesia. Better warn the nurses.”
“Illusion . . .” She shook her head, doubtful. “You can put in a request for emergency medical assistance for him,” she said slowly. “I’ll do the paperwork tonight.”
“Do that.”
“I will, but don’t get your hopes up.” She looked away. “Usually it takes two to four weeks for approval, even if you mark it urgent. You have to apply stem cells within thirty-six hours of injury. Or it’s ineffective.”
“Do it anyway,” he grated. At least it was something to hope for.
The doctor insisted on checking his blood pressure and temperature and changing the bandage on the surgery site. She reamed him thoroughly about his condition, but decided he wasn’t dying. He didn’t really pay attention. He refused any more pills — he’d had more than enough and exhaustion had walled him in with a gray fog so that even the pain from his abused ribs didn’t come through very strongly. He told the doctor to call him if there was any change in Jeremy’s condition and left.
Outside, he stopped, leaned against the building and pulled out his cell. Johnny answered on the first ring, his voice bright and worried. “What is going on up there? The media’s full of all kinds of crazy rumors. Officers shot, a flood in the riverbed that wasn’t a flood. Jeeze, I’m glad to hear from you. Where the hell did you go after you took off like that?”
“You knew where I went.” Carter closed his eyes. “You know where I am right now. You put a chip into me, didn’t you?.”
“What . . . are you talking about? Carter?” Johnny’s voice was bright and concerned. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’ll see you in my apartment. Leave right now, Johnny. They’ll let you through the main gate. Don’t make me wait.” He hung up.
His cell rang again immediately and he shut it off. Slowly he made his way across the base. The last dose of amphetamine was wearing off, leaving trembling exhaustion in its wake. Carter pushed his door open, fumbled for the switch and flicked on the light.
Dan Greely was sitting on his sofa.
“You do this a lot, don’t you?” Carter closed the door and leaned against it. “Why don’t you try the gate?”
“Not tonight.” Dan’s eyes narrowed. “You look like hell.”
“So the doctor told me. You don’t look so good yourself.” Carter made it to a chair and leaned his head back against the upholstery. “Where’s Nita?”
“At the truck plaza with Renny. Worrying ab
out Jeremy,” Dan said. “Worrying about you. How is Jeremy?”
“In Recovery.” He decided not to mention the doctor’s prognosis. “I’ll call the government store when I know something. Tell me what happened.” Carter sat up with an effort, realizing that he had stopped doubting Dan. “I’m too beat to be judgmental, so I’ll listen.”
“The red headed agitator and someone else showed up at my jail cell in uniform,” Dan said slowly. “The idea was to make it look as if I’d shot Hastings. I think Delgado was supposed to shoot me afterward. They shot me full of something when they grabbed me and everything is kind of blurry. I think I was in a basement somewhere. We missed Jeremy’s show, I guess. I think we were driving down into the riverbed when it happened. I remember someone yelling and the car we were in slammed into something. Nita says he scared everyone right out of the riverbed.
“He sure did.” Carter rubbed his aching eyes. “He stopped a war.”
“I . . . don’t really understand what he does,” Dan said hesitantly. “But it’s really something.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how Delgado got Hastings down there, but next thing I knew I heard a shot. Someone shoved a gun into my hand. I guess it was Delgado. I still wasn’t too clear. And that’s about the time you showed up.” He shrugged. “You know the rest.”
“I forgot about that gun.” Carter’s eyes snapped open. “It had to have killed Hastings. And it has your prints on it.”
“Not a problem.” Dan looked at him sideways. “I made it disappear for good.”
“You don’t take chances, do you?”
“Sometimes I do.” Dan leaned back against the sofa, closed his eyes. “Think we can start over, Carter?”
“I think we have to.” Carter sighed. “I’ve got to trust you. I can’t do this by myself. I’m a uniform. I’m sorry . . . that I got taken in by that frame.”
Dan grimaced. “It was a damn tight frame.”
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