The Goliath Code (The Alpha Omega Trilogy)

by Suzanne Leonhard

Tim blinked. “Well, that don’t sound good.”

  Milly shifted the large box in her hands. “Can we keep goin’, please?”

  We took off running again, weaving through the empty, decimated streets. By the time we made it back to city hall, the sky had gone as dark as a moonless night. We found hundreds of people tucked inside the building, bracing themselves for the expected thunderstorm. And Mayor Skaggs didn’t want them thinking any different. To prevent what he called “widespread panic,” we had orders not to tell anybody about the eruption.

  Despite the size of the crowd in the rotunda the noise level hovered at a low murmur. Somebody had placed hand-cranked LED lanterns around the cavernous room, which cast creeping shadows against the marble walls and added to the unnatural mood. David and Tim recruited people to help them tape heavy sheets of plastic over the broken windows and glass front doors. Milly and I handed out protective masks.

  If asked what the masks were for, we said what the mayor had told us to say, “Mayor Skaggs will be here soon. He’ll answer your questions then.” But, really, there was too much trauma in the room for anyone to pay much attention to what we were doing. Injuries ranged from bumps and bruises, to missing limbs and deep comas. Most had either lost someone in the quake or knew somebody who had.

  I climbed to the middle of the open staircase and sat down on a cold marble step to keep an eye out for Grandpa. He’d promised to meet us back here before the ashfall started. Milly soon joined me, then the boys sat down two steps below us. I focused my eyes on the oversized portrait of the governor of Washington hanging on the two-story wall and wondered if the rest of the state was bracing for the worst—if they even understood what was coming.

  A few moments later, the mayor and my grandfather shoved past the sheets of plastic now draping the front doors. They brushed a dusting of fine gray powder from their clothes, then Grandpa ordered the plastic sealed tight behind them. His eyes searched the crowd until he found us perched on the staircase. He nodded in our direction.

  The mayor climbed up onto a chair in the center of the rotunda so everyone could see him. “Ladies and gentlemen?” he called out. “May I have your attention please? As of this moment, we still have not received any contact from agencies outside our community. But we do have some information regarding the storm currently enveloping our town. It is, in actuality, an ash cloud.”

  That revelation pulled people from their stupors. Heads turned with interest, and patients sat up on their cots. As the news sank in, the murmur in the room rose to a steady buzz.

  “Is it Mount St. Helens again?” somebody called out.

  “I have no further details at this time,” the mayor replied. “But the windows and doors are sealed, so we are perfectly safe in here.”

  My stomach lurched. Perfectly safe. Pastor Rick had said that right before he was impaled by a stained glass window.

  “Did the eruption cause the earthquake?” somebody else asked.

  “I have no information on that.”

  David grunted in front of me. He’d given the mayor plenty of information, but the mayor chose to discount it. It was because David was a kid, but my brother assumed it had more to do with his condition than his age.

  “There are sandwiches and bottles of water available in the cafeteria,” the mayor reminded everyone. “The town’s water main was disrupted by the quake, so please don’t use the restrooms. There are Porta Potties set up outside the back service door if anybody has the need. When we have any more information, we will let you know.”

  “This is a direct result of our government’s secret weapons testing!” a ragged voice called from the back of the room. Mr. Victor was in his eighties and not shy about voicing his opinions, no matter how ridiculous they might be. Last month he’d raised a stink about the new RFID scanner guns at the Roslyn Market. He believed they were government tracking devices.

  “Are you sure it wasn’t aliens, old man?”

  The muscles in my brother’s back tightened beneath his grimy shirt. That voice belonged to Steve Skaggs, the mayor’s son, a senior at our school. Steve had a nose like a toucan, but that didn’t stop him from making fun of everybody else’s flaws. David had become one of Steve’s favorite targets on the first day of our freshman year.

  Steve was standing with two of his buddies, Cody Richmond and Luke Milton—both equally repulsive. I couldn’t help noticing that their leader, Micah Abrams, was missing. Had he been killed in the quake? My heart sank a little at the thought.

  Mr. Victor defended himself. “Our government knows more than they’re tellin’, young man.”

  “That’s a relief,” Cody shot back, “because you sure don’t.” He laughed and high-fived Steve.

  “All right,” Grandpa said. “Let’s keep it civil.”

  The boys offered my grandfather mock salutes, then laughed and moved on to harass somebody else.

  Tim leaned closer to David on the step. “So, Yellowstone? Is that bad?”

  “It’s bad,” my brother replied.

  Milly pursed her lips. “I don’t s’pose you could elaborate?”

  David surprised me by turning toward Milly. To my knowledge, it was the first time he’d ever looked her in the eye. “It’s extinction bad,” he clarified.

  Milly snapped her mouth shut and looked at me. I shrugged, not sure what I was supposed to add. My only knowledge of Yellowstone came from an eighth-grade field trip and all I remembered was mud pits, geysers, and David running around with a Junior Ranger kit.

  “I read all about Mount St. Helens in history class,” she retorted. “And it wasn’t the end of the world.”

  David closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He had to be really stressed if Milly was getting on his nerves. “Mount St. Helens was like a firecracker; Yellowstone is like a nuclear explosion.” He pivoted so he could better make his point. “Mount St. Helens released less than three cubic kilometers of debris. The last time Yellowstone blew, it ejected over twenty-five hundred cubic kilometers of material into the air. That’s enough ash to bury Texas ten feet deep. The volume of material Yellowstone could potentially shoot into the stratosphere would put the entire world in a volcanic winter for seven years.”

  Milly gaped at him. “How did you get so smart?”

  David, suddenly remembering who he was talking to, flushed a brilliant shade of red and spun back around, front and center.

  “What’s the heck’s a volcanic winter?”

  Tim’s question made David’s shoulders droop.

  “It’s a reduction in global temperatures,” I answered. “Volcanic ash and sulfuric acid block the sun’s rays, which makes the earth cold.” Milly stared at me in surprise. “What?” I said in response. “He’s not the only Donner who reads.”

  My stomach rumbled noisily. I still hadn’t eaten anything. Remembering the delicious smells in the cafeteria, I stood and picked up a nearby lantern. “I’m getting some food. Anybody want anything?”

  “Good here,” Tim said.

  “I’m fine,” Milly responded.

  “Whatever you’re having,” David mumbled.

  I headed down the staircase, thinking I might take a couple of turns around the hallways to get rid of some nervous energy. As I walked past the front doors, I noted the fine layer of gray powder forming on the threshold, and paused. It looked like off-color talcum powder. I bent to touch it, wanting to know what it felt like, wondering if we’d have to shovel it like snow and leave it in piles at the end of our driveway.

  Suddenly, the plastic covering over the doors flew open and a large gray animal burst inside. I screamed, scrambling backwards—and then I recognized Peter Williams, the school bus driver. Ash covered him from head to toe. The stuff even wafted in behind him, drifting across the slick tile floor in a misty gray cloud, prompting several people to rush forward and reseal the plastic over the door.

  “They’re gone!” Mr. Williams shouted. Tears smudged his ash-covered face. “All of ’em! Gone!”
>
  Mayor Skaggs hurried over to him. “What are you talking about, Williams? Who’s gone?”

  The big bus driver took a fistful of the mayor’s royal blue windbreaker and pulled him to his face. “My family!” His voice cracked with a sob. “They’re all gone! Every last one of ’em. Taken!”

  People started murmuring.

  “Taken?” Grandpa asked. “By who?”

  Mr. Williams spotted my grandfather and hurried over to him. “Sheriff!” he cried. “Sheriff, they’re gone! They’re gone!”

  “It’s okay, Peter.” Grandpa put his hands on the man’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “It’s all right. Who took them? Who took your family?”

  “The white light!” Mr. Williams wailed. “It was the white light!”

  I dropped my lantern.

  It clattered to the floor, rolling to a stop by a pair of boot-clad feet. I looked up. Micah Abrams, head bully, stared at me from the shadows. He wasn’t dead after all.

  His broad shoulders shifted as he bent down to pick up my lantern and hand it back to me.

  Heart lodged firmly in my throat, I managed to whisper thanks as I took it from him.

  He didn’t say a word back. He just stood there, watching me.

  I scowled at him and turned away. My feelings for him unsettled me enough without him staring at me like he’d never seen me before.

  “It shot down from the sky and sucked them all into the air!” Mr. Williams continued to wail. “I couldn’t—” His voice broke. “I couldn’t hold onto ’em! It’s comin’ for us!” he shouted to the crowd. “It’s comin’ for all of us!”

  Panic rippled through the room. Everybody started talking at once.

  “What’s he talkin’ about, Mayor?!” somebody shouted.

  “Who’s coming for us?!” somebody else yelled.

  Mayor Skaggs stepped forward. “All right, Peter,” the mayor said. “We’re gonna get you all taken care of.” He stuck a needle into the bus driver’s arm and the man dropped like a sack of potatoes.

  My grandfather caught Mr. Williams before he hit the floor. “Was that really necessary?” Grandpa Donner demanded.

  Mr. Williams moaned and tossed his head, but the sedative had drained the fight out of him.

  “We’ve got a lot of frightened people in here, Sheriff,” Mayor Skaggs replied. “The last thing we need is Williams, or anybody else for that matter, panicking them with stories of people getting sucked into the sky.”

  “Sounds like the work of aliens to me!” Steve Skaggs laughed.

  I turned to see what Micah Abrams thought of his buddy’s remark, but Micah was gone. The shadows, from which he’d so mysteriously appeared, had swallowed him up.

  “Maybe it was the rapture!” Cody Richmond jeered.

  Several people chuckled.

  “I hardly think so.” Eliza Cole, standing a few feet away with Coach Stephens, seemed recovered from her husband’s passing. She flashed her standard condescending smirk. “I think I’d know if it was the rapture.”

  “Probably the Russians!” Mr. Victor bellowed. “They’ve been workin’ on a tractor beam for years!”

  “I vote we give Mr. Victor one of those shots,” Steve taunted.

  “All right,” Grandpa called out. “Let’s settle down. We’ve got a lot of injured people in here, so please be courteous to your neighbors.”

  The mayor gestured to two men standing nearby—Cody and Luke’s dads, not much nicer than their sons. “Lem? Andy? Why don’t you find Mr. Williams a nice private office where he can sleep it off?”

  The men took possession of Mr. Williams, hauling him off down the dark hallway. As I watched them disappear into the shadows, I vowed that I would never say a word to anyone about what had really happened to my mother.

  I’m floating in the water. Warm. Safe. My feet touch the beach. White sand between my toes. A roar from the water. Red glowing eyes. Sharp teeth sink into my neck.

  I woke with a start. I lay tucked beneath a warm blanket on a small sofa in the city assessor’s office. A lone lantern lit the room. Its bright glow painted the walls an icy white and illuminated a large pendulum clock. It was 5:00am.

  I shook off the disturbing dream and sat up.

  Before turning in for the night, the boys had snuck out the back service door and measured less than an inch of ash on the ground. This meager amount surprised David, but it gave the rest of us hope that he’d overstated his predictions of doom and gloom.

  I wondered if the ashfall had stopped yet.

  I pushed aside the blanket and eased my legs out over the edge of the sofa. Milly lay sound asleep on the floor a few feet away, still holding the red teddy bear Tim had found for her in one of the offices. She’d let me have the sofa—in fact, she’d insisted on it after I’d spent the previous night trapped in a giant porcelain bowl. The Odettes had been in town for six months and, the whole time, I’d assumed they were fake southern snobs. I was wrong. Tim and Milly were the real deal.

  I left the room and padded down the hallway, glancing into the cafeteria as I passed. A few people were up and milling about, but most were still sound asleep, stretched out on the floor, or sprawled on the long tables and benches.

  I made my way to the back service door to check out the ash and use a Porta Potty. Before I could push open the door, a voice brought me up short.

  “Oh, good.”

  When I turned around, Eliza Cole stood in the hallway behind me. She was wearing a pink velour jogging suit. Her eyes were still puffy, but she’d tried to dress them up with concealer and mascara.

  “Be a dear and take this to Mr. Williams in the county clerk’s office.” She held out a plate of food.

  Mayor Skaggs had insisted that Mr. Williams remain locked up until he stopped ranting about abductions. Doctor Reinkann had assigned Eliza the task of looking after him because of her nursing background.

  The very last thing I wanted was to face Peter Williams and his white light ravings. “Isn’t that your job?” I asked.

  Her eyes flashed. She shoved the plate into my chest. “Do as you’re told.”

  I took the plate and watched Eliza saunter off toward the kitchen, probably to sit and whisper with Coach Stephens.

  I followed the hallway to the county clerk’s office. The door was locked, but I found the key in the knob and twisted it to open the door.

  A single lantern threw long shadows over a tall bookcase and upholstered love seat. Mr. Williams sat in a leather chair, behind a large wooden desk. He didn’t move when I came in. He just kept staring out the single window into the darkness beyond. It was creepy.

  I took a deep breath and closed the door behind me. “Mr. Williams?” At first, I was afraid the sound of my voice might startle him, but he didn’t move.

  Then his answer filtered through the room, weak but calm. “Yes?”

  I edged toward the desk. “I…I have some food for you.”

  He turned in his chair to stare at me from a gray, drawn face. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

  When he saw me, his bloodshot eyes flew wide and he lunged forward in the squeaky chair. “Did you see it?” He shouted so loud that I felt sure the entire building had heard it.

  I took a step back. “What?”

  “The light!”

  “N-no.” As much as I wanted to say yes—to finally admit to someone what I’d seen—I wasn’t willing to take the chance of being locked up in my own private room.

  He calmed down and sank back in his chair. “I had an uncle who disappeared near White River twenty years ago,” he muttered. “Friends said they saw a bright, white glow over his tent that night.” He paused and stared at me with glassy eyes. “Fella in Naches went missin’ for thirteen days back in the nineties. Folks thought he was dead. ’Til he showed up walkin’ along Highway 12 thirteen days later without a stitch a clothes on. Said a bright white light had picked up his whole truck and pulled him into the sky.”

  His eyes grew shiny with tear
s. “They were makin’ dinner. My daughter and granddaughter were over for the weekend. My wife was cookin’ their favorite. Beef Stroganoff. When the quake hit, we all headed out to the backyard and sat down in a circle on the grass, holdin’ hands, just like they tell you to do.”

  His chin quivered and my heart clenched.

  “It took my granddaughter first. She was just four years old. Floated up like a feather. I tried to hold onto her, but I…” He lowered his head. “I couldn’t. My wife and daughter went next. There was…there was nothin’ I could do.” He sniffed. “They were both smilin’ when it happened.” His eyes lifted and met mine. “How am I supposed to endure without ’em?”

  He started sobbing, then turned his chair back to the window to stare out into the darkness. “Maybe in thirteen days we’ll find ’em walkin’ down the road without a stitch of clothes on,” he murmured. “Just like that fella in Naches.”

  Chapter Five

  The ash stopped falling on the second day, leaving just four inches on the ground—a far cry from the apocalyptic amounts predicted by my brother. David stood by his theory about Yellowstone, however, citing wind change and blind luck to explain away the lower ash totals.

  Mayor Skaggs, on the other hand, insisted that it was Mount St. Helens, assuring people that aid was on the way. Though I’d never admit it to my brother, I was in the St. Helens camp. Clearly the eruption had been smaller than David had expected. Surely help would come at any moment. But any moment stretched into two long weeks without a single word from the outside world.

  It didn’t help that phone and power lines were still down, and shortwave radios couldn’t penetrate the ash-choked sky. The citizens of Roslyn may have been spared the worst on the ground, but it was an entirely different story in the sky. Ash clogged the upper atmosphere, blocking light from the sun, the moon, and the stars, leaving the town cloaked in heavy darkness day and night. Even at high noon you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face without a flashlight. According to David, this suffocating darkness could last for months.

  Out of the city’s population of 2,893, the sheriff had declared 964 dead or missing. Of those, only 413 bodies had been recovered, including Alyson. My best friend and her family had been found on the fifth day, beneath their collapsed house. But 551 people remained unaccounted for, including, oddly enough, every kid under the age of twelve.