A.L.I.V.E. (The A.L.I.V.E.Series Book 1)

by R. D. Brady

  “Okay,” Greg said, feeling like he’d aged a hundred years. His mind could barely take in everything that had happened. “What now?”

  “Well, let’s see if we can follow Chris and Maeve. If not, let’s find a closer tunnel entrance.”

  “Okay. Sounds good,” Greg said although at this point he would agree to anything that Leslie said. His mind was slowly turning to mush.

  “Turn on the radio,” Leslie said, nodding to the radio between the seats as she reversed out of the alley. “Let’s see what’s going on.”

  Greg grabbed the radio, fumbling with the knobs for a minute before he figured out how to turn it on.

  “—repeat. Evacuate the base immediately or find deep shelter. The bombing will commence in five minutes.”

  Leslie slammed on the brakes and stared at Greg.

  “But—but Chris said they weren’t going to bomb it for another forty minutes.”

  “Something happened. Something changed. Where’s the next closest entrance to the tunnels?”

  He scrambled to remember what Maeve said while picturing a map of the base. “Other side of the base. We can’t make it in time, can we?”

  “Not if we run into any interference. So we just need to find a place to lay low until—”

  “Leslie, when this hits, it will be the force of, well, you know, a bomb. Even if we somehow survive that, the whole place will be radioactive. Granted, within an hour, the air should be clear, but that’s still an hour of not breathing in the air. Pretty sure I can’t hold my breath for that long.”

  Leslie slumped down in her seat. “So this is it?”

  Greg glanced over at her. “I think it might be.”

  Behind her, he could see the old runway, the place where the U-2 spy plane had first launched. Where the stealth bomber had launched. To the southwest, they tested atomic bombs. At least he was going in the middle of a place with an incredible history.

  All the aliens he had seen in the last twenty-four hours flew threw his mind, ending with an image of Alvie. He pictured Alvie leaning into him when they left.

  Hangar 37. Greg jolted.

  “Greg?” Leslie asked.

  Greg put up a hand, straining to remember. Hangar 37 and something else. What was it? 31827?

  “I think we need to go to Hangar 37.”

  “37? Why?”

  “Do you know where it is?”

  “Yeah, the southern part of the base, it’s not that far from here.” Leslie hit the gas, looking at Greg from the corner of her eye. “Why are we going there?”

  “Because I think Alvie may have told me a way to save us.”

  Chapter One Hundred Eight

  Maeve sprinted from the stairwell. There was a set of propane tanks next to the entrance along with a handful of crates. But Maeve didn’t even think of stopping. They needed to put as much distance between themselves and their pursuers.

  Ahead of her was a giant cavern carved out of the rock. The walls were sheared smooth, and there was a train track running through the side of the cavern. Maeve stared at it in shock even as she sprinted forward.

  I guess the rumors about the supersonic train are true. I can’t believe it’s real—just like every other thing I’ve seen today, she thought.

  Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any train service today. But she did spy a utility truck over by the side of the tracks.

  “Alvie, the truck!” she yelled.

  Maeve sprinted for the yellow pickup with blue stripes and lights along the roof. She skidded to a stop at the driver’s side door and nearly cried with joy when it opened easily. And hanging from the ignition were the keys.

  Oh, thank you, Jesus.

  Maeve climbed into the driver’s seat and turned it on as Alvie scrambled in next to her. Snap, Crackle, and Pop leapt into the truck as well. All four of them huddled together on the floor of the passenger side.

  An explosion at the stairwell caused her heart to leap. Chris. Her head whipped back toward the stairwell. He was sprinting towards them.

  “Come on, Chris!” Maeve yelled, putting the truck in gear.

  Gunfire rang out from the destroyed stairwell. Apparently someone had survived.

  Maeve stomped on the gas pedal and the truck roared to life. She pulled it to a stop and Chris ran around the back. Chris let off a burst of gunfire, aiming for the propane tanks. They exploded, and Chris dove into the passenger seat. “Go, go, go!”

  Maeve needed no encouragement. She slammed down on the accelerator. The back of the truck fishtailed as she peeled out.

  In the rearview mirror, she saw Henning crawl from behind the wreckage of the stairwell, his radio to his mouth. “Chris!”

  He glanced behind them.

  “Is he doing what I think he’s doing?”

  Chris nodded. “He’s signaling someone ahead of us. We’re not out yet.”

  Chapter One Hundred Nine

  Maeve knew undeniably that there was an armed force waiting for them ahead. But she also knew that behind Henning and his men was an atomic explosion. So she kept her foot on the gas.

  “Damn it.” From the passenger seat, Chris tossed the radio that had been on the passenger seat in the back. “Dead.”

  Up ahead, she could see the tunnel split into two.

  “What’s the closest base?”

  “Nellis Air Force Range borders the base.”

  “I don’t think I want to be that close.”

  “There’s Creech, but I think we should head to Edwards. I know some people stationed there.”

  “How far away is that?”

  “About two hundred seventy miles.”

  Maeve glanced at the gas tank—it was close to full. “Okay.” They rode in tense silence. Alvie crawled down to the floor of the truck and pulled the triplets into his lap.

  “That’s got to be weird,” Chris said quietly.

  “What?”

  “Hugging cloned versions of yourself. I mean, that’s weird, right?”

  “It’s weird. But … I don’t know. I mean, clones are basically identical twins. In this case, for Alvie, there’s just a bit of an age difference.”

  “They are cute.”

  “Yeah. Alvie looked almost identical to them when he was little.”

  Chris frowned. “I still don’t get that. He’s a clone. Shouldn’t they be identical to him?”

  Maeve shook her head. “They have the same genetic makeup, but the environment can still play a role. These three could have been impregnated in one host or three. Either way, it wasn’t the same host that Alvie had, which means there will be some differences. And they haven’t been raised like Alvie. His first year he had my mom and Greta. I don’t think these guys had that kindness.”

  “How do you think it will affect them?”

  Maeve sighed. “I don’t know. But maybe Alvie will be able to soothe whatever harm this last year has done to them.”

  And I really hope he has the chance to do that.

  “You think we’re going to make it?” Chris asked.

  And Maeve knew he wasn’t looking for reassurance. He knew what lay ahead of them—it was not going to be any easier than what was behind them. He was asking to see whether or not she really understood that after everything they had been through, that Alvie may never have the chance to make up for whatever horrors were inflicted on the triplets.

  So Maeve didn’t answer because she didn’t want to. Because right now she had to hope. Hope that all they had gone through to survive hadn’t been for naught. Hope that as they raced down these tunnels created decades ago by members of the government who wanted to keep certain aspects of America’s research private, that they were racing toward safety.

  And not racing toward their deaths.

  Chapter One Hundred Ten

  “Do you see it?” Leslie yelled to be heard over the wind.

  “Uh … ” Greg scanned the road ahead, looking for any sign of the hangar.

  “There!” He pointed to
a new hangar, the number 37 clearly visible above the doors. Greg frowned. Why would Alvie send them to a new hangar? All the new hangars were cut off from the tunnels.

  Leslie stomped on the gas, speeding down the last few feet before slamming on the brakes. “Time.”

  Greg fumbled for the door handle. “About five minutes.”

  “Then move it.” She vaulted from the car.

  Greg hobbled after her, ignoring the ache in his leg. Leslie tried the door, but it was locked. She reared back and kicked it open. Greg followed her inside and nearly collided with her. She had stopped short just inside the doorway.

  “Leslie? What’s wrong?”

  “Do you know what that is?”

  Greg looked at the plane that took up most of the hangar, his hope fading away. “A plane? Like dozens of other planes on this base?”

  Leslie shook her head, a smile spreading across her face. “There is no other plane on this base like that one. Oh, Alvie, I love you.”

  Greg stared at the plane. It was a large jet that look no different than a million other planes he’d seen at airports. “Les?”

  “It’s a smaller prototype of the doomsday plane. Now go get the door open. I’m going to open up the elevator.”

  “What’s a—” But Leslie was already running across the hangar and ducking under the wing of the plane.

  For the first time, Greg noticed the large elevator doors on the opposite wall. He hobbled over to what looked like a door in the silver metal. There was a keypad next to it.

  “Um, open the door. How do I open the door?” He started punching numbers into the keypad, but the light glowed red at him.

  “Oh, come on,” he groaned. 31827 flashed through his mind and he quickly punched it in. The light glowed green and the door cracked open and then began to lower to the ground. “Yes!”

  Leslie ran back toward him, the elevator doors opening behind her. “Get in.”

  Greg scrambled up the ramp. Leslie followed behind him and hit some button at the top of the ramp before disappearing into the cockpit. Greg followed her, grimacing as he whacked his leg into a counter as he stepped into the fuselage. A counter ran along the right side of the plane and was loaded with electronic equipment. He could spy what looked like a kitchen toward the back and what he thought was maybe a bedroom. In front of him were a dozen large leather chairs. He frowned. What the hell kind of plane was this?

  He leaned against the doorway of the cockpit. “Um, any particular reason you’re so excited about this plane?”

  Leslie was already sitting in the pilot’s chair, flipping switches. “You mean there’s something I know that you don’t?”

  Greg felt red seep into his cheeks. “So it appears.”

  “It’s a doomsday plane—to be used by the President and members of congress in the event of a nuclear attack.”

  “A nuclear attack?”

  Leslie nodded. “It’s got an electromagnetic pulse shield as well as thermo-radiation shields. It’s basically a flying bomb shelter.”

  “So you know how to fly this thing?”

  “Fly? No. But I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to drive it. Take a seat.”

  Greg slumped into the co-pilot’s seat as the bird came to life. It jolted, and Greg’s panicked eyes turned to Leslie.

  “It’s okay. I just released the brakes.”

  “Oh,” Greg said as he felt the plane begin to move. “Is it going to fit in that elevator?”

  Leslie nodded, not sparing him a look. “Yeah. It was made for large-sized aircraft. I’m guessing they tested them underground or maybe even moved them from base to base. I’m going to send us as far down as we can go to escape the bomb’s impact. What’s our time?”

  “Uh,” Greg looked at his watch. “A minute.” He cringed as one of the wings scraped the side of the elevator. But a few seconds later they were safely within.

  Leslie bolted from her seat. “Get into the fuselage and close the cockpit door behind you.”

  “Why—”

  But Leslie was already gone. He heard the outer door open. Seconds later, the elevator doors closed and they began to descend. Greg hobbled into the fuselage, closing the cockpit door. As he did, he realized that Leslie had lowered coverings over the windows along the fuselage.

  That’s why she wanted us in here.

  He strapped himself into one of the big leather seats, realizing this was the first time he’d ever been in a first-class chair.

  Better late than never, I guess.

  Leslie ran back up the ramp and closed it. She strapped herself in next to him. “Time?”

  He glanced at his watch. “Thirty seconds.”

  Leslie took his hand. “It’s been a pleasure serving with you.”

  Greg squeezed her hand back. “Thank you for everything. For protecting me.”

  She gave a small laugh. “Given our current predicament, I’m not sure I deserve thanks.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure I would have been dead a long time ago if you hadn’t come back for me.” He paused. “Why did you come back for me?”

  She looked away. “I just needed to know you were safe.”

  “See? Who else would have come back for little old me?”

  “I’m guessing quite a few people, if you let them get to know you.”

  “Maybe.” He glanced at his watch. “Ten seconds.”

  Leslie grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him into her, her mouth on his. Greg’s heart raced, and he wrapped his hand around the back of her head. She broke away first, leaning her forehead against his.

  “Just in case this is the end,” she whispered.

  “Well, that’s a pretty good way to go.” He glanced at his watch. 3-2-1. He wrapped his arms around Leslie as the deadline passed. And then the ground shook, like an earthquake. Everything unsecured in the plane crashed to the ground, and the ground itself undulated like a wave.

  Greg held Leslie tighter.

  Good-bye.

  Chapter One Hundred Eleven

  A rumble sounded from behind them and then grew. Maeve swerved and then quickly regained control. “What the—” But the sentiment died in her throat. The bomb. They had set off the bomb early.

  Her chest ached, picturing Greg and Leslie. Tears sprang to her eyes and she gripped the steering wheel.

  “God damn it!”

  Chris slapped the dashboard with his palm. “Fuck!”

  Alvie hugged the triplets as they let out a wail.

  No one said anything else. What was there to say? The United States Government had just killed dozens of their employees to cover up a secret they’d been hiding for decades.

  Chris reached over and took Maeve’s hand, squeezing it. She clasped it tightly, needing to know that someone else felt the injustice and the grief of the moment. They drove like that for another twenty minutes, no one saying a word. The emotions in the cab of the truck spoke for them—fear, exhaustion, anxiety, worry, and grief.

  A light blinked up ahead in the distance. Maeve pulled her hand from Chris’s and put it back on the steering wheel. She squinted. “What is—”

  Gunfire raked the front of the truck. Yanking the wheel to the side with a yell, she felt the truck drop as one of the front tires, or maybe both, were punctured.

  Chris reached down and grabbed all the little ones as Maeve hit the railway tracks. The truck went airborne and then with an ear-shattering crash, slammed onto its side.

  Chapter One Hundred Twelve

  Chris groaned as the seat belt cut into his ribs, but at least it kept him from dropping onto Maeve, who lay still in the driver’s seat, her head against the window. Alvie was next to Maeve, his hand on her face, squeaking anxiously.

  Slowly, Chris released the triplets, who were squirming in his arms. He punched the seat belt. “Alvie, get them out of here. I’ll get Maeve.”

  With one last look at Maeve, Alvie clambered up the dashboard, each of the triplets following in his wake through the passenge
r door window.

  With shaking hands, Chris undid Maeve’s seat belt. She let out a groan, and Chris felt relief pour through him. “That’s a good girl. Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

  Maeve’s eyelids flickered open. It took her a moment to focus on him. “Chris?”

  “Hey there. Time to go.” Gently, he pulled her up. There was a gash on the side of her head. Gunfire raked the underside of the truck.

  Shit. Chris pushed Maeve against the back of the seat so she was leaning against it. Then he turned and kicked out the windshield.

  He looked into Maeve’s eyes. “I need you to move quickly. Can you do that?”

  Her eyes cleared. “Alvie. The triplets.”

  “They’re out,” he said, hoping that they hadn’t been caught in the gunfire. “Now it’s our turn.”

  With a grimace, she nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Chris crouched at the edge of the dashboard, his weapon ready. He and Maeve ducked out of the windshield frame. The hood of the truck blocked the movement from the shooters, who were still aiming at the underside of the truck.

  They ducked around the back of the truck. Alvie and the triplets looked up at them with big eyes. Maeve dropped to their side, frantically running a hand over each of them. “Are you all right?”

  Alvie stared into her eyes, and Maeve nodded back. “Good.” She turned to Chris. “Plan?”

  And once again, she impressed the hell out of him. She’d been through more combat than most soldiers saw in a lifetime and here she was, still focused.

  The gunfire on the truck quieted. “Whoever is ahead of us is undeniably going to make their way toward us. Let’s make for that wall there.” He nodded toward a cement wall about twenty feet away.

  Maeve shook her head. “No chance.”

  “Maeve, there’s no other—”

  “Chris, that’s where they store the fuel—gas and propane. Didn’t you see those stations as we drove by? We’d be sitting next to a bomb.”

  “Oh. Right. Well, let’s not do that, then.” He looked around.