Clay turned to Alayna. She hadn’t spoken. She leaned heavily upon her fist, and her face was nondescript.
“I agree,” she finally said, nodding. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“Very well, then,” Jacobs said, leaning back in his chair. “But before I tell you, know this. I’ll have nothing to do with it. You’re just extending the inevitability of our deaths, and it’s reckless. I think you all know that. Maybe all of you except your optimistic sheriff, here.”
Clay glowered.
“But I’m guessing you won’t have time to get there anyway. So it doesn’t really matter to me. I’ll live out the remainder of my time here, relaxed, contemplating me existence. The rest of you will rush off to the clock tower—the very top.” His eyes glinted as he looked at his watch. “And seems like you only have about twenty minutes at this point. Isn’t that so, Clay?”
“Twenty minutes? We’ll never have time.” Norah bowed her head. The sight of it was disheartening for Clay. A sign that just another in his troop of survivors was open to giving up.
Ralph gave up, too. “Hell, I don’t care if we live or die any longer,” he said, stabbing a fork into one of the remaining sausages and taking a menacing bite. “I ain’t cared since Connie died. You all run off and find this device, or whatever. I’m going to have me a morning whiskey.” He lifted from his chair and poured yet another glass, watching as the liquid glugged into the glass.
But Clay, Daniels, Alayna, and Brandon leaped from their chairs and bounded down the steps, fresh with the knowledge that they could live—they could continue to exist, to play this terrible game—for just a little bit longer. Brandon’s long, lanky teenage legs allowed him to run faster and stronger than the others. And Clay felt a moment of pride, watching this once-sarcastic and snarky individual race for his freedom, and his life.
Chapter 62
The clock tower was about a half-mile away, a bit off Main Street, and tucked against the old cathedral, which had been built more than a century ago. Clay had necessarily passed the clock tower countless times in his cruiser, hardly viewing its age-old beauty. Miraculously, he’d never been inside. The view, he’d been told, wasn’t remarkable any longer, since many of the old buildings had been demolished to make way for the highway and the multiple gas stations.
They raced toward it, each of them breathing heavily. Clay had stabbing pains up and down his abdomen from the sprint. He hunched over, gasping for oxygen. A stone archway loomed above the entrance. “Jesus,” he breathed, gazing up at the high clock tower.
“COME ON!” Daniels cried, rushing through the doors and turning toward the stone steps. Clay followed after Alayna and Daniels, with Brandon close behind him. The feeling of trepidation was palpable, and they no longer spoke, recognizing that even one wasted minute meant the end of their lives.
The staircase wound upward, making Clay’s head spin. Just as he thought he might vomit, they burst onto the landing. One by one, each of them gasped, recognizing precisely what awaited them at the top.
In the center of the clock tower’s dome was a large, black orb, connected to countless wires and circuits and blinking lights. To the left of the orb, a clock ticked back the minutes, alerting them that they had just four minutes to figure out how to deactivate the bomb.
Clay wiped his hand over his thin hair, marching around and around it, trying to make sense of the wires and lights. The others followed suit, knowing they needed to move quickly—but that one false move meant it could detonate anyway. The moments were fragile.
“Jesus. We should have made him come with us,” Brandon finally spoke, breaking the silence. “We don’t know what the fuck we’re doing. He’s the one who’s the scientist.”
“Damn it,” Daniels said, growling. “Three minutes, guys. We have to do something. We have to try.”
“Well are you going to be the one?” Brandon asked, laughing. “Because I don’t want to be the one to choose what will kill us. I’d rather let it go.”
Clay began to twiddle with a few of the wires, knowing he had to make a move; he had to be the one with the confidence and bravery to persevere. He remembered the movies he’d watched as a kid, when the bomb was always deactivated two seconds before it detonated. Surely something would come to him. Sweat beads poured from his forehead, dripping down his cheeks.
Suddenly Alayna cut forward, easing in front of him. Clay stepped back, too curious to ask questions. With two minutes remaining, Alayna clicked a switch to the left of the countdown clock. The moment she did it, Clay closed his eyes, sensing destruction.
But as he stood with his eyes closed, Daniels let out a mighty roar. Clay moved his fingers, testing to see if his body was still intact. His thoughts swam freely. He felt things. He existed. He blinked to see Daniels wrap his arms around Alayna and lift her high into the air, bouncing her and crying out. “YES. SHE DID IT.”
“You flipped the switch, and it worked?” Clay asked, incredulous. “That was all?”
Alayna grinned nervously. Daniels lowered her, and she shrugged, gesturing toward the now-blank countdown clock. None of the lights were on; the bomb no longer beeped. It looked dead and lifeless.
“The simplicity of it all,” Clay said, slipping Alayna’s hair behind her ear, trying to preserve this special moment in time.
“That was some timing,” Daniels joked behind her, noting the intimacy between the two of them. “Some timing indeed.”
Chapter 63
Brandon led the way back down the steps, taking them two at a time. His shoulders shook with relief. When they reached the early afternoon light on the street, he wrapped Alayna in a hug, looking briefly like an overjoyed kid. “I know it doesn’t matter. I know we’re probably going to die anyway,” he said, his smile wide. “But that was one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen. Thank you, Alayna. We all owe our lives to you.”
Alayna returned the hug but pulled away awkwardly. “Easy, there, Brandon. All I did was flip a switch. Nothing terribly heroic about it,” she said modestly.
Brandon’s sincerity made Clay grin cautiously. He sensed they’d only just begun a long and burdensome road. And someday, maybe soon, Brandon would die. And maybe they’d all have to watch it.
“Let’s get back to the hotel,” Alayna said, patting Brandon on the back as she moved past him. “I want to see the look on Leland’s face when he realizes we’re going to survive. Glad he chose today of all days to tell us the truth about the nanites. He could have told us last night and given us a bit more time . . .” She trailed off, falling into stride beside Clay. “Perhaps he liked the drama of it all.”
“Well, he truly didn’t know about the spread of the infection,” Clay offered. “And he obviously doesn’t care about us at all. Why would he? He’s not a native. He arrived, what? Just a few months ago?”
“Didn’t reap any of our neighborly kindness,” Brandon joked, stabbing his elbow into Daniels’s side. “Not like this gentleman right here.”
Daniels shrugged. “Small town or not, with people I know, or not—I was assigned to save Carterville. Didn’t expect to make any friends along the way.” He eyed both Alayna and Clay with subtle affection. Clay wondered if the man had ever made a friend in his life.
They returned to the hotel to find Ralph seated beside the record player, watching the vinyl spin and spin with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He was already bleary eyed, clearly attempting to reach darkness before the world blacked out around him. But the moment he saw them, he jumped to his feet. “What happened? Is it over?” he asked, slurring.
“We turned it off,” Brandon said, patting him on the shoulder. “We live another day, old man.”
“Huh,” Ralph said, pouring himself another glass. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised. I can’t be surprised anymore. It’s just been one thing after another.”
“Where’s Norah?” Clay asked.
“She went to her room to lie down. Didn’t want to see it happen,” Ralph said. �
�And that Leland asshole, he’s in his room, too. Said he was going to do some reading. I don’t trust him.” His white eyebrows furrowed deeply.
Jacobs appeared in the doorway, then, Norah following close behind. Norah’s face was content, with a slight smile. She wrapped her arms around Alayna, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek.
“You should be thanking her,” Clay offered. “She’s the one who flipped the switch.”
“That’s my girl,” Norah said kindly, gliding her fingers over her hair. “I knew you all could do it. I just couldn’t make it myself.” She blinked softly.
But Jacobs scoffed, his forearms crossed over his chest. “Well, now what? We get to live another day,” he affirmed. “But what about tomorrow? And what about the day after that? We’re all dead already. And you know it.”
“Sure. With an attitude like that, I suppose you’re right,” Clay said sternly. “We’ll be dead if we don’t try. And we’ve come too far to take this lying down.”
“Agreed,” Alayna said, standing beside him. “And I think it’s time to discuss survivability moving forward. The hotel has been wonderful these last few days, but we need to find something more sustainable. If we’re not careful, we’ll run out of supplies, fast.”
“I did use too many potatoes this morning,” Norah whispered, cursing herself.
“Forget about it. We thought we’d be fried potatoes by now,” Brandon assured Norah, patting her hand affectionately.
“Surely you were prepared for something like this,” Clay said, looking toward Jacobs. “You were moving somewhere all too fast yesterday. Somewhere in your candy shop.”
“That’s right!” Daniels said, snapping his finger. “You were heading somewhere behind the store shelves. There was some kind of staircase—”
“That’s the lab,” Jacobs admitted, rolling his eyes. “The lab is beneath Moe’s. And, yes, there are plenty of supplies down there. Water. Food. Even a bit of alcohol, although surely not enough for Ralph here.” He skidded his foot across the ground, contemplating.
“Leland to the rescue,” Clay said halfheartedly. “You have to let us down there. To gather supplies.”
“I don’t know. It’s meant to be sealed from the public,” Jacobs said, lifting his chin in hesitation.
“Are you kidding me? You can’t use that excuse now,” Alayna said. “The public might be a thing of the past. We’re all we know. Even you, with all your knowledge about the nanites, haven’t a clue if your family and friends are living or dead.” Her eyes flashed with the seriousness of her words.
Jacobs moved toward the door, then, gesturing. “Fine. I’ll let you in, if you’re all in such a big rush.”
Chapter 64
Deep beneath Moe’s Candy, the research lab was a sterile, white-walled environment with massive vats of gooey liquid lining the sides. The survivors paraded lightly through it, eyeing the liquid with suspicion.
“That’s the nanites,” Jacobs affirmed. “We keep them in what we call jellyfish puree between rounds. Now, as we speak, those nanites are multiplying in the liquid, making it more and more saturated. Of course, they’re harmless. The containers are airtight.”
No one spoke, all skittish in front of the vats. They continued to amble toward the back of the lab, where another door led them down a long cement hallway and then into a kind of warehouse stocked with supplies. Mounds of bottled water, countless cans of beans and soup and vegetables, noodles, and—of course—candy, lined the walls and filled the center, towering over them.
“Shit,” Brandon said, speaking for all of them. “You really are stocked.”
The survivors began to scatter, perusing the many items and choosing what they thought they needed to head back to the hotel. In the back of Clay’s mind, he wondered what purpose there was in returning to the hotel at all. This area was solid and airtight, hiding them from the outside world. But as he stood before the piles of crackers, Jacobs tapped him on the shoulder, gesturing toward a side room, an offshoot of the greater warehouse.
Without speaking, Clay followed him, wondering how much he should trust this man if his group was going to survive. Jacobs halted in front of another locked door and entered a code. The numbers buzzed and blued as he pressed them.
“What is this about?” Clay asked.
“Your symptoms,” Jacobs said, eyeing him darkly. He shoved open the door and flipped on the light, revealing a skinny lab room. In a small drawer, he found a small tube filled with bead-like pills. He held it up to Clay. “You’re going to need these,” he said.
“What is it?” Clay asked, hesitant. He remembered that Jacobs had noticed his symptoms immediately, without declaring the cause. “What do I have?”
“I’m not quite sure what plagues you,” Jacobs said, tilting his head. “But most of your signs point to radiation poisoning.”
Clay’s stomach dropped. He held the skinny tube in his hands, assessing the pills. “And these will cure me?”
“No,” Jacobs affirmed. “Radiation poisoning has no cure. There’s just treatment for symptoms. And you’re lucky I have this. It’s another item we’ve been developing. It has shown to be quite satisfactory in removing the radioactive contaminants from the body.”
Clay nodded. He couldn’t think concretely about this diagnosis. Not yet. It sounded too deadly, and too personal. He popped a pill into his mouth and swallowed it dry. “Okay. Let’s just keep this between us, then,” he said, gesturing to the others in the warehouse. “I have to be their leader.”
“I know the dynamic,” Jacobs affirmed. He patted Clay on the shoulder, attempting to generate some form of camaraderie. “Let’s join that rest, shall we? See what they’ve found.”
Clay and Jacobs walked back into the warehouse, discovering that their group stood in a small circle, without supplies, whispering. The moment they saw Clay, they broke apart, their faces grim. Alayna’s lips were tight.
“What is it?” he asked. “Why haven’t you gathered supplies?”
“We started to,” Alayna said slowly. “But then we realized that we might very well be some of the last people on earth. And it doesn’t make sense to sleep anywhere that isn’t locked tight, like this lab.”
Alayna’s words “the last people on earth” seemed to echo through the air.
Clay nodded slightly, trying to wrap his mind around their new world. They couldn’t be the only survivors, but until they knew otherwise, it was better to be safe than sorry. “Yeah, good thinking.” His shoulders slumped slightly. “Are there sleeping quarters down here, Leland?”
Jacobs nodded. “Several of our scientists stayed here, before the accident. Their rooms are down the hall. Safe. Tightly sealed. Appropriate for just this scenario.”
“And then,” Alayna said, “during the daytime tomorrow, we’ll start a hunt around town for more supplies. We can make a chart. See how much we need. Also, see how much freezer space we have. People stay alive in terrible circumstances all the time. And we’ve got the brains to make this work.”
“Brilliant idea, Alayna,” Norah said. “I’ve been canning things my entire life. I can help with the logistics. And the organization.” She patted Brandon on the back, grinning. “We’ll be proper hunter-gatherers. You hear that, Brandon?”
Brandon grinned at her and pumping his arm. “If you need anything at all, I’m your man.”
Alayna grinned, turning her head toward Clay. He was conscious that they’d hardly touched each other all day, let alone spoken. He shivered. As they stood, their new plan stretching before them, they all heard a strange, terrible, unordinary sound.
The telephone had begun to ring.
Chapter 65
The phone rang a second time, echoing throughout the lab. The sound was ominous, coming from another, very distant world. Alayna’s eyes were upon Clay, waiting for him to make a move.
“Who would be calling?” Clay finally spoke, turning to Jacobs.
Jacobs shrugged sharply, as nervous as the oth
ers. He took a step back, gesturing. “The cell towers were shut down days ago, but I didn’t think of the landlines. It could be anyone from the outside.”
They were all silent as the phone rang a fourth time. Clay shivered as he picked up the receiver. He swallowed and didn’t speak, waiting for sound on the other end of the phone. It was like listening to a seashell.
Immediately, the phone began to blare in a robotic voice. “Greetings, valued customer. We would like to announce that you’ve won a trip to Cancun, all expenses paid. Congratulations! All you have to do—”
Clay dropped the phone back to its cradle. He didn’t speak for a moment, until, suddenly, a slight smile stretched over his face. He turned to his fellow survivors.
“What was it?” Alayna whispered. They’d been unable to hear.
“A robocall. Telling me I’d won a vacation. How exciting,” Clay smirked.
“Damn,” Ralph said, his face crinkling. “It’s the end of the world and we still can’t escape those solicitors. Won’t they leave us the hell alone?”
Brandon chuckled and Norah grinned. “You got that right,” she agreed. “Won’t leave me alone, even in this little hole in the ground. But I’ll take that vacation, if they’re offering.”
Clay didn’t respond, allowing her joke to hang in the air. He stood in quiet contemplation, gazing down at the phone, remembering what Jacobs had told them. The landlines were unchecked.
Ralph scratched at his growing white goatee and walked forward, lifting the phone. “Call my brother, maybe,” he said, sniffing. “Over in North Carolina.” He waited for the tone and then dialed. He paused, bringing all the survivors to stare at him, panicked, knowing they were about to learn so much.
But he shook his head, hanging up. “It’s busy,” he said. “That guy. He talks on the phone all the goddamn time. Probably just talking about the weather. Doesn’t know what I’m up to. Haven’t spoken in years.”
Norah came, next. She dialed a number—her daughter’s—and stood, waiting. But she shook her head, wordlessly.
Humanity's Edge Trilogy (Book 1): Turn Page 17