by T. R. Harris
“Do you think he’ll keep his word?” Angus asked.
“He just wants us gone,” Zac replied, nodding his head. “And you’ve seen the newscasts. Everyone knows about what happened here, yet the most conspicuous item missing in all of them has been any mention of us. I’m sure someone has let the word out. The fact that it’s being kept secret is what worries me the most.”
Angus stuffed the small ditty-bag with his toiletries into the duffle bag and then zipped it closed. “They’re bloody well coming for us,” he stated with certainty.
“Undoubtedly. Cross says all the arrangements to get us off the planet have been made, including a ship to get us into space. And it’s just in time, with that pompous senator due here tomorrow. His coming here is no coincidence.”
“Cross didn’t seem that concerned. I got the impression the two of them are working together, and that the senator could be coming just to get ahead of the fallout.”
Zac snorted. “Yeah, but the guy’s still a slimy politician. Who knows which way he leans from minute to minute?”
Price took the duffle bag by the handle and flung it over his shoulder. “Then let’s get going, mate. Tic-toc.”
Zac opened the door to the room…and found himself face-to-face with Col. Jack Diamond, holding an energy weapon in his hand and flanked by two security guards. He was as surprised as Zac at the situation.
Zac glanced down at the weapon and then into the officer’s grey eyes. “Are you here to give us an armed escort?” he asked sarcastically.
Diamond was nervous. For all his brashness, he knew it was him and the two guards against a pair of naturally-enhanced REVs. It was hardly a contest.
“Senator Hamilton’s entourage has just pulled into the approach tunnel,” said the Marine colonel. “He would very much like to meet the two of you.” The colonel looked past Zac to Angus, and the duffle bag he was carrying. “Going somewhere?”
“We were planning to,” Zac said with humor in his voice. “I really hope you’re not going to try to stop us, sir.” He smiled. “On second thought…please do.”
Zac could see the uncertainty in Diamond’s eyes, as well as in the nervous shifting of the guards. Three days before, a junior REV had killed eleven people with his bare hands. Was this to turn into a repeat of the tragedy?
Without warning—and in the blink of an eye—Zac snatched the weapon from Diamond’s hand and had the senior officer pressed against a wall of the hallway, held by a strong REV forearm. Angus came up behind him and smacked one of the guards across the face with his duffle bag, before pinning the other against the wall next to Diamond.
“We’re leaving,” Zac growled at the officer, their faces only inches apart. “We don’t want to hurt anyone…well, maybe you we do.” He grinned even wider.
“Release me, lieutenant!” Diamond demanded, hoping his rank would make a difference. It didn’t.
Zac pulled the colonel into Price’s room, forcing him onto the bed. The guards joined him a moment later. Angus held a weapon on the three men as Zac pulled the window blinds from their brackets and tore off the control cords. He tied the hands and legs of their captives with the thin strings, grinning widely at Diamond’s protests and ever-reddening face. Next, he ripped lengths of fabric from a sheet and tied gags around their heads.
He patted the bug-eyed officer on the top of his head. “C’mon, Mr. Diamond, admit it. This sure beats getting dead, doesn’t it?”
Zac locked the door as he and Angus left the room.
“What do you mean the senator is here?” David Cross asked. If there was anyone who had a full grasp of what was happening at the mountain complex, it was Lisa Frost, the doctor’s long-time secretary. Her worried expression told him she understood the significance of what she’d just told him: The senator’s three-limousine caravan had been passed through the outer guard station a minute before and was in the main tunnel leading to the vault doors. He would be there in less than a minute.
“He’s a day ahead of schedule,” Cross stated, both angry and confused.
“He said he found some extra time and thought he would come early.”
“Where are the REVs?”
Lisa knew he was referring to Murphy and Price. She shook her head.
“I assume in their barracks. They’re scheduled to leave in three hours. They should be packing.”
Cross handed the middle-aged woman a comm device. “You go and find them. Tell them to lay low.”
“And you?”
Cross smirked. “I’m going to meet our esteemed guest. I suspect he’s come early for a reason, and I’m hoping I’m wrong about what that reason could be.”
The two scampered down the metal stairway from the elevated office, rushing off in opposite directions at ground level.
As he hurried along, Cross triggered his communicator with the code for the security detail. “Lieutenant Harmon, send a squad to the main entrance and along the access tunnel to the buildings. Just position your men; no hostile action is authorized. I repeat, negative on any hostile action. Just have your people report what they see.”
The voice on the line sounded confused, yet compliant.
As he rushed along, Cross muttered under his breath. “I hope to Christ you haven’t done what I think you’ve done, you stupid bastard.”
17
Normally, the senator would be in either the lead car or the middle one, depending on the security protocols required. For his arrival at the Cheyenne Mountain complex, he was in the rear limo. And he wasn’t alone. There were four geared-up Army Rangers crowded in around him, filling the once-spacious interior with their bulky armor and weapons. The other two limos carried six men each, for a total of sixteen assault team members. It wasn’t a lot, considering that Cross’s security force consisted of twenty-eight men and women. And that wasn’t counting the eight REVs rumored to be in the complex. Hamilton was hoping the security guards wouldn’t get in the way. And why should they? He wasn’t coming for them. He wasn’t even coming for the junior REVs, just the two named Murphy and Price. Considering the catastrophe of three days ago, many within the complex should welcome his arrival—or more accurately—the arrival of the commandos.
Hamilton could see ahead in the dimly-lit tunnel to where the huge, twenty-five-ton security door was swinging open in anticipation of his arrival. At the last minute, the lead limo turned in the direction of the doorway and sped through. It raced to the second security door and wedged the front of the car into the opening. The second limo did the same at the first door, effectively forcing them to remain open. The assault team exited the vehicles, face-shields lowered and short-barrel, special function close-quarters-combat weapons at the ready. Each of the firearms was equipped with tranquilizer darts and Taser-like attachments. The REVs had to be taken alive. Those were the orders.
There were a few security guards on station near the main doors, also armed, but standing down and looking nervous. A few had comm devices pressed to their lips, reporting on the arrival of the commandos, but offering no resistance. Within seconds, the assault team had formed up and were rushing into the main tunnel leading to the central cavern.
Civilians in the tunnel stood back, their mouths agape, as they sought shelter from the intimidating sight. Most were waved aside by the troops, while others were invisible. The soldiers were focused on a different prize.
The five remaining Bravos in the complex wore orange jumpsuits to distinguish them from the techs and medical crew. A few were in the tunnel. The lead officer for the commandos stepped forward, recognizing them as REVs.
“We’re not here for you,” the officer announced. “Where is Murphy and Price?”
As expected, his question was met with closed mouths and stern, defiant looks. The team had more luck with the civilians, who were more than willing to point the commandos in the right direction.
Dr. Cross strode down the tunnel, ignoring the lethal commandos as they ran past. Senator Hamilton was coveri
ng their six.
“What are you doing, Reece? I thought we had a deal?”
“We did, until one of your REVs killed a bunch of civilians,” Hamilton answered, a casual smile on his tanned, plump face. “It’s getting too hot back in D.C. to blindly push your agenda. Even then, we’re only after Murphy and Price. The rest of your operation can continue.”
“They didn’t have anything to do with the killings. In fact, it was Murphy who stopped it.”
“That doesn’t matter. We’re not here because of the killings, but because the decision has been made to turn the REVs over to the Antaere.” He held up his hand to stop the coming protest. “I know, it’s all bullshit, but we need to relieve the pressure somehow. Sacrificing a couple of your obsolete REVs will do that. It’s a game, David. Everyone plays it.”
Cross looked down the tunnel. The commandos had disappeared around a corner and would be in the main cavern by now, closing in on the REVs. He had his doubts that Hamilton had enough soldiers with him. He also hoped Zac and Angus would use restraint. Any more killings would create even a greater PR nightmare than he already had.
Cross’s communicator chimed. He looked at the senator.
“I have to take this.”
Hamilton smiled. “Tell your REVs I say hi.”
He put the device up to his ear.
“They’re gone, sir,” said Lisa Foster. “Their rooms are cleaned out—we even found Colonel Diamond tied up in Price’s room.”
“Is he okay?”
“Embarrassed, and as mad as a honey badger, but he’s okay.”
“Get to security and check the monitors,” Cross whispered as he turned away from Hamilton. “They can’t get out of the complex, so they have to be somewhere. Find them.”
18
Zac and Angus spotted the commandos when they entered the main chamber and split up, leaving sentries to block off the access tunnel from the buildings. The troops surrounded Building Four and gained entry from both sides. The REVs were on the roof of the building, duffle bags strapped across their backs and ready to leap for the rectangular support brackets holding the overhead conduits and water lines. The top of the cavern was only fifteen feet above the roof at this point, and the brackets about ten. The jump was easy for the REVs, especially since the thrill of the hunt had their bodies cascading higher than normal.
Angus went first, and once he had the wet and rusty metal bar in his grasp, he swung his legs up and began to caterpillar along the cables and pipes. The tunnel ceilings had the same configuration of piping in the overhead, but that was only ninety feet off the floor. Within the huge chamber where the buildings were located, the drop was twice that. Yet the room had more of a domed ceiling, and soon the lines began to work their way closer to the floor.
By now, the REVs were behind a set of huge water tanks and hidden from the view of the troops. They dropped to the ground and ran off along a side tunnel, leading toward the three large holding ponds of fresh water.
“If I’m not mistaken, this leads farther into the mountain, not out,” said Angus Price.
“Of course,” Zac said. “I didn’t want to make our escape look too easy.”
“Seriously, where are we going?”
Zac pointed ahead, to a short ladder leading up the side of the tunnel to a closed hatchway. Both had once been painted bright red but were now rusted and moldy.
“There,” he said.
“Oh, of course. Why didn’t you say so earlier? What the bloody hell is that?”
“Relax, it’s one of the escape routes they put in when the complex was first built. It leads outside, this one along the north face of the mountain.”
“How do you know this?”
“I did my research. I like to know my options if I’m going to be stuck underground in what was once the most-secure bunker in the country.”
“And they had escape tunnels?”
“Yep.” They reached the ladder. “Can’t say much beyond that. They could all be concreted in by now for all I know.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“If so, then we fight our way out,” Zac said. “Personally, I prefer the path of least resistance.”
“Since when?”
The men began climbing. The emergency escape route was designed to be used by ordinary personnel so there was only the sliding of a rudimentary bar latch required to open the doorway. When it opened, the REVs were hit with the overpowering stench of mold, stagnant water and rotting…something, probably dead rats. It was also dark inside the chamber.
Zac reached into a side pocket of his duffle bag and pulled out a five-inch long mini-flashlight. Angus raised an eyebrow. “You came prepared.”
“One always has use for a flashlight, like now.”
The men stepped inside.
The tunnel was narrow yet tall enough for them to stand. They hurried down the wet concrete passageway until they came to another hatchway. This one required their REV strength to open, the hinges having rusted over the century-and-a-half since the door was installed.
After another minute, they came to a set of support bars placed in the wall, followed by a dark drop off straight down. Zac pointed his beam of light into the abyss. It was a shear vertical shaft easily a hundred feet down. A coiled chain ladder lay near the edge.
“This route is for exfil only. Anyone trying to get in would have to scale the walls of the shaft. It makes sense,” Zac said.
Angus lifted the metal ladder, which like everything else around them was wet and covered in rust. One end was bolted to the concrete floor.
“This should be interesting. You go first.” He tossed the ladder into the shaft and heard it uncoil on the way down, clanging loudly off the walls.
“I thought REVs weren’t afraid of anything?” Zac said.
“We aren’t. We just pretend to be.”
Angus pushed past the senior REV and began the climb down the ladder. Zac followed his progress with the light until he reached the bottom.
“I think I found what’s been stinking up the place,” he yelled up. “Looks like a raccoon crawled in here and died recently. Obviously, there’s a way out, if this thing got in.”
“Save the carcass,” Zac called down. “I haven’t had lunch yet.”
Ten minutes later, the REVs were still in the tunnel system but getting closer to the outside. They could feel a slight breeze of fresh air and the scent of pine began to dilute the pungent odor of the dead raccoon. Their heightened senses—including the sense of smell—was both a blessing and a curse. They were turning green around the gills by the time they came to a shaft of light invading the tunnel.
There was another hatchway—this one to the outside. It had broken open, leaving an eight-inch gap along one side. The door was rusted in place.
The REVs placed their shoulders against the hatch and pushed. At first it didn’t move, but when it did, it gave out the loudest, most god-awful screech imaginable, like a hundred sets of fingernails scraping across a chalkboard. The sound echoed not only within the escape tunnel, but also throughout the mountain landscape outside. Anyone within five miles would hear it. Hopefully, they wouldn’t understand the significance of the horrid squeal.
Once outside, Zac and Angus inhaled the clean mountain air of early November, cold and brisk. There was snow on the ground but confined to small patches in the shade of rocks and trees. Zac thought back to the planet Eliza-3 and the few brief weeks of winter he spent there. This was nothing compared to that. It was also Earth, his homeworld.
Zac was surprised to see a small, overgrown path leading from the hatchway down the side of the mountain. After a hundred and forty years, the way was still visible to a leveled-out area at the head of an equally overgrown dirt road. This was where emergency vehicles would meet the evacuees. It would provide the REVs with a way down the mountain. In addition, the road could be easily accessed by hostile forces, if their escape route was discovered. They would use the road for general referenc
e but stay off the actual path for as long as they could.
The men began the descent.
19
The escape tunnels were long-forgotten aspects of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex—or at least Zac hoped they were forgotten. They had closed the escape hatch after they entered, so that should slow the discovery of their leaving. Still, it was only a matter of time before the mountain would be swarming with military, looking for the renegades.
Using their REV strength and endurance, the two men covered more territory than others could within the same time. Twenty minutes was all it took for them to scurry down the rocky slope and reach the edge of the expanded Colorado Springs metropolis. It was nearing dusk, and fortunately the REVs were dressed in appropriate civilian clothing, although now stained and dirty. They looked like a pair of construction workers returning home after a grueling day on the job.
Cross had arranged for a small starship to be waiting for them at the civilian space/airport. The facility wasn’t large, not like Denver, and it competed with the nearby Peterson Operations Center for the military traffic coming in and out of the city.
The civilian facility was also twenty miles away, on the eastern side of town.
The men walked quickly down the streets; running at REV speed would have attracted too much attention. If Cross remained silent about their plans, most of the people hunting them would concentrate on the military base. It had the routine and nomenclature most familiar to the REVs. That was the reason Cross sent them to the civilian airport.
For men of their strength and stamina, a twenty-mile hike was no problem, however, it still took them four hours to make it to the airport, having to wind through city streets and neighborhoods to get there. The city wasn’t set up for pedestrian traffic, so there was no direct route for them to take.