by M. L. Banner
Almost there, Carrington continued to look behind him to make sure no one was following. Although he now had carte blanche to patrol most of the areas while he was supposedly working on his plan to provide a power generation solution to Bios-2, he still didn’t want to come under their scrutiny. At least not until he could find out what was in that mystery room and hide the bomb he was carrying. This was their fallback. If they found out that they were being lied to, as they still suspected, or if they believed they were unsafe, he would blow the CPF turbine and they would leave. But leaving a bomb in their apartment was too risky.
He had thought of the Supplies room this morning, and Mel agreed it was the perfect place. The room was vast, actually comprising many rooms. It was guarded, with many authorized personnel coming and going all the time signing in and out with the supplies they needed or were returning. As one of the “authorized personnel,” he could place the package where it would lie undisturbed until they needed it. And if it was ever found, no one would know its origins. He would also grab what he needed to get into the mystery room.
At the entrance, an older man with discerning eyes sat behind a barred window reading a dog-eared copy of Lucifer’s Hammer by Niven.
“Hello, Mr. Richards, I’m Dr. Carrington Reid, number S227A, here to pick up one notepad, an electric motor and a nanovoltmeter. Also to drop off an electric clock I repaired.”
“Sign in, Dr. Reid, and I’ll need to check your backpack both in and out,” Richards said in an almost disinterested voice. He slid open a small door beside the barred window.
Carrington unslung his backpack and pushed it through the door. Hopeful that neither the bag nor he would be scrutinized much, he hastily printed his name and community-assigned ID number/room number, and signed his name on the clipboard; Richards had already filled in the date and time. Beside the Drop-Off box was written clock and in the Pick-Up box was written Nano-Meter, motor & notepad. He slid the clipboard back through the opening under the bars and his backpack was pushed back through the small window.
An entrance door clicked open, and Carrington grabbed his backpack and walked through.
Richards bored holes in Carrington’s back, watching him march down a long aisle between large shelves, until he turned out of sight.
“Washington!” she yelled through her cupped hands, in her deepest male-sounding voice. “Washington, get your ass down here. I need your help in the men’s latrine.”
Footsteps slowly approached. “Sir, I’m com—”
“Now, Washington; get your ass down here,” she projected into the hall, and then ducked behind the ladies’ room door and waited.
His running clomp-clomp-clomp rumbled toward her, and then squeaked to a halt before the men’s entrance banged open. “Sir?” A muffled voice asked, unsure.
Melanie cracked her door, satisfied the bluff worked, and sprinted silently down the hall to her apartment.
After grabbing what was needed and depositing his package at a place near the back on a dusty bottom shelf, Carrington turned the corner to face the security door and felt assaulted once again by Richard’s scornful gaze, like walking into the sunlight without protective clothing.
Richards kept scrutinizing his backpack, as if he were sure Carrington was hiding something.
He was. Carrington clutched his side, attempting to suppress the bulge of a stolen radio and handheld Taser hidden under his clothes.
“Okay, you can go. Sign here,” he said, handing him the clipboard.
Two swishes of the pen, and Carrington tossed it back and hurried out the door before he did something that would somehow betray him further. With long strides, he returned to the turbine room via the innocuous B216 entrance. As he slowed his pace down the steps, he wiped away the wetness that streamed down his face and moved the radio and Taser to his backpack before they shorted out.
Because one of the guards was standing where he had intended to stand and observe, he instead walked to the Shaft Room, looking back at Harry, who was there guarding his mystery room’s entrance. Carrington turned and checked around for others. It was empty. He checked again and Harry was still there, so he strolled to a doorway at the end of the room—maybe it was another way to get into the mystery room? Inside, it seemed considerably cooler. He would have to explore this further, when he had the time.
He pulled out the notepad and pretended to jot down copious notes about his research. But he was more interested in the personnel and guard traffic marching back and forth in the rooms. He walked back to the stairwell and stood for a while in a nook, watching. It was a perfect spot because he was somewhat hidden by the shadow of the nook, and the bathroom was there. Very inconspicuous.
In his notebook, he wrote, Shaft Room door! on the first page, along with a couple other observations. Then above this, he sketched the infinity symbol.
Because the machinery was pretty well designed, it didn’t appear to need much maintenance. So, other than the occasional scientist racing to lunch, there weren’t a lot of personnel down here. The guards were pretty stationary. Only one rotated every half hour between the turbine room and the Shaft Room and back. Guard #2 just rotated out of the main turbine room and was now out of his field of vision. That left Harry, the mystery room’s guard.
Carrington reached into his backpack and pulled out the radio, identical to the ones the guards and other Bios-2 personnel use. He clicked to channel five, remembering that was Harry’s radio setting.
He’d overheard many conversations over months, so he knew what to say. “Henderson, this is Andrews; we need you in Operations in five minutes. Mr. Westerling wants a detail and requested you for point. I will take over your watch.” Carrington let go of the talk button and listened.
“I’ll leave as soon as you relieve me,” said Harry.
“You’re wanted now. I will be there as soon as I finish my rounds in less than two.”
Carrington waited patiently, knowing he would reply “Roger that.”
Harry raced up the stairs, barely noticing the scientist wearing a fedora scribbling notes on a note pad.
Melanie closed the door quietly behind her and slid the deadbolt home. She looked for Carrington in every room, but he definitely wasn’t there. “Where are you, my love?” she said softly to the empty apartment.
In their designated hiding place, in front of a vent grate, behind a table, she found a note. She looked around; it was force of habit, even though she knew there were no cameras, only bugs.
Dearest Mel,
I wanted to tell you this in person, but you weren’t here, and I didn’t have any time to waste. I hope you’ll forgive my actions.
I have already started my project down in the basement of this facility today. It’s possible that what they are telling us is correct, but something is just not adding up in my mind. And I just don’t trust these people. I found a room that is restricted, even to me. It should be part of the geothermal production, but it isn’t. So, why the secret and what is it? I don’t have any idea what it might be, but it is so suspicious, I have to check it out. You know me, “trust but verify.”
I’m worried though if I am caught sneaking around this area, especially since it is guarded, what might happen to me, or us. Please know I wouldn’t take this chance unless I thought it was important to both of us. If we need to escape, then we need to know right away.
Please keep your eyes open, and be aware for anything, especially some sign from me.
I love you with all my heart and soul.
Carr
“Oh, no,” she worried out loud. She shoved the note into her pocket and moved to their bedroom. In a box in the closet is where he kept the bombs, and she was hoping they were still there. Moving away the few pieces of clothing from on top, a natural cover for the box, she unfolded the edges and looked in.
She stood up, but her head drooped like she had no ability to hold it up. She walked to their living room and fell into their couch, reading his note again,
and cried. She cried for her husband and what she was forced to do, what she had to do.
19.
Cicada
Max paced back and forth in the back of the lab. Preston was practically slumped over on a stool, staring at his shoes and occasionally at Max. The rest of them argued openly about who was responsible and why this was happening. Magdalena noticed Max wasn’t participating in their discussion anymore, and she wanted to confirm a suspicion. Watching him only made her more anxious. What was he thinking?
Max wanted to kill something. He had been mentally avoiding the other Cicada, focusing instead on the chaotic crisis of the day. After changing their policy, leaving the message with the Squatts outside, and taking out the man responsible, he felt a small sense of relief, like he had some control over the threats outside of Cicada’s walls.
But now, the evidence was unavoidable: theft of their scientists, by guiding them away from Cicada to another location; the plans of the other facility, which were a virtual copy of Cicada’s; the mystery phone taps when he communicated with Cicada from his Mexican ranch; the military hardware getting into the hands of the squatters outside their gates; and now the revelation that the other site may be the cause of the apocalypse that was slowly destroying their world. All signs led to one conclusion, and that conclusion was that Bios-2 was their enemy. And that enemy had to be stopped.
Stopping Bios-2 would be the only way they could be safe. What’s more, stopping Bios-2 might even stop the permanent solar storms, which might just give the Earth a fighting chance before time ran out. Stopping them meant killing them all. He would make them pay for all the death and pain they had caused and were causing to the billions of Earth’s inhabitants.
The more he thought about it, the more anger consumed him.
He felt a soft tap on his arm.
“What!” he yelled.
“I-I’m sorry.” Magdalena reeled back a few steps, afraid of the violence in Max’s face.
The others all looked up at Max.
“Wait, Magdalena. What do you want?” he offered more calmly but still seething inside.
“I just wanted to know what you were going to do, now that you know who’s causing this.”
His eyes went black. “I’m going to kill them all!”
Magdalena backed up a few more steps. “But what if they don’t know what they’re doing? Are you still going to…”
“Kill them? Yes, I am. Someone needs to pay for what they’ve done to our world.”
Max couldn’t take it any longer; he got up and strode to the back of the lab. “Preston, are you coming?”
Preston didn’t say anything. He just hoisted himself up and trudged after Max, out the door, dreading what he had to tell his boss next.
Max headed to the Library to see if he could find Bill. Lisa told him that he had left early that morning, saying he wanted to help out the scientist working on the hovercraft. She added that Sally was getting a tour from that nice young man, Webber.
Max thanked her and then walked briskly with Preston, who was very quiet.
“We need to get everyone to Comms in two hours. I think it’s time to tell everyone what we’re up against and to ask for volunteers.”
“For what?” Preston asked softly, still staring at his feet.
“For the assault teams, of course.”
“Isn’t that a little… aggressive?”
Max just glared at Preston, not believing this was coming from him and angry that he had to justify his actions to someone who should be fully supportive.
“I’ll also need all the personnel files. We need as many bodies as we can get with military or police or even hunting experience.”
Preston nodded.
“Preston, what the hell’s wrong with you?”
He stopped in the middle of Max’s Court, halfway between Comms and the Library. “I need to tell you something.” He looked up at Max, shoulders sagging. Then, seemingly jarred by something, he looked around like he was sure someone was watching, “But not here; at my office.” He marched forward, and this time Max followed him.
“I did it!” Preston blurted out after Max had closed his office door on both of them.
“You did what?”
Preston dumped a stack of folders on Max’s desk: the personnel files Max had asked about on the way here. Then, he sank onto the side chair.
He swallowed hard. “I sold Cicada’s plans to a man named Lunder Gufstafson over fifteen years ago. I didn’t keep the money and in fact donated it to the foundation, making it look like it came from an anonymous source. At the time, I didn’t think you really cared about Cicada. I thought your only concern was the Kings. Plus, I was worried that if any of this came to pass, there should be another Cicada in the US. I know there are other facilities around the world, but I thought the US should have another one.
“He approached me and knew all about our facility and threatened to report us. Then, he said that they had the resources to build something similar and duplicate our efforts. I did a little investigating on my own and was pretty sure that his boss was a Colorado senator. But I never found out which one. I also suspected later that they were trying to take our scientists, but I had no idea they were so close and that they were causing the problems with the sun.
“I would have told you sooner, but I thought for the most part they were benign.”
Max was very quiet for an uncomfortably long moment. Then he smiled and said, “Preston, I knew all about this a long time ago.” He held up a rolled set of blueprints. “How do you think I got a copy of the plans to their facility?”
20.
Outside Bios-2
“I don’t trust them,” John announced to the Teacher and the remaining ten apostles sitting in a circle in the entry room of the Teacher’s tent. The Teacher had just described all that he had been shown and told by the leader of Bios-2. He often didn’t reveal everything in these times when he convened his apostolic counsels, which were designed to help him make and carry out big decisions for his followers; he usually saved his doubts and worries for his private counsel times with John. Prior to this session, he’d made his decision, but he wanted his apostles to speak freely before he had them commit their lives to it. Free will was important during these times because his fighters needed to fight with passion and be completely invested in the cause to ensure victory.
“We have no choice, with weapons like theirs,” said Frank, his face drawn and serious. He replayed the image of his friend Stephen being charred like a piece of meat and looking like he had been tossed onto the hottest fire for many hours. He could still feel the prickles on his skin as the lightning from this devilish device came so close to him.
“I know, Brother Francis. I’m sorry about Brother Stephen.” The Teacher’s eyes were watery, seeming genuinely moved by Stephen’s martyrdom. He shifted his attention. “Brother John, I agree with you about these people. This is why Francis and I will take three-quarters of my warriors and go to Cicada.”
Frank nodded but surprise and uncertainty clouded his features.
The Teacher uncrossed and re-crossed his legs and turned back to Frank. “You will lead our forces to conquer Cicada.”
John fidgeted where he sat, betraying his unspoken discomfort with the Teacher’s plans. “John, I know you want to lead the takeover, but I need you here. Your job is to protect our women and children; all of us will depend on you for this, and no one would I trust more with this task. But you are to watch them and be ready for their treason.”
“Where will you be, Teacher?” Frank asked, still a little unsure that he heard this correctly; he was shocked that the Teacher wanted him to lead their advance on the Promised Land, the home the Teacher had been prophesying about.
“I will be with you, of course. Cicada has been given to us by God and I must be there when they fall.”
John punched his fist into the carpeted ground. “I’m sorry, Teacher, but why are we going to do nothing about the
se petulant infidels at Bios-2? They murdered our brother and they stand against us. They must pay with their lives.”
“John, they will, in time. We must first secure our home at Cicada. Then we will assimilate the people we choose from Cicada. Finally, we will plan to take over Bios-2. But that is why it is so important that you watch what they do. They will show their weaknesses, then we will conquer Bios-2, and Brother Stephen’s martyrdom will not be for naught. This I promise you.”
His apostles were quiet; they were pensive but seemingly satisfied.
“If there is nothing else, I want to try out some more of the flesh from this tribe.” The Teacher rose and all the apostles looked up, waiting for their sign to leave. “Go and be with your wives and families. We will leave in two hours.”
He peeled open the curtain leading to his bedchamber to see what awaited him. Two women lay naked in his bed; one had passed out from the drugs she had been given, the other was bound and gagged. She looked at him as he stepped in and let his robe slide off him, and she tried to scream. Tears poured from her already red, swollen eyes.
As Frank watched Zachary play with his other children, he couldn’t help but beam. All were from different women, but he loved them as if they had all come from him. His wife was barren, and so they raised others who were orphans alongside the children of his two mistresses. Camilla was a fiery red-haired beauty who had been following the Teacher since the beginning. She had been one of the Teacher’s mistresses as well, but when she became pregnant with the Teacher’s child, the Teacher asked Frank to care for Camilla and the child too.
Frank loved Camilla, just as much as he loved his wife, Sam, and his other mistress, Zoe, but in different ways. Camilla and Zoe were children really, barely in their twenties, whereas Sam was mature and his equal in most ways.