by Amy Gamet
The men stayed low, moving among brush, trees, and large rocks. When they were fifty feet from the external structure of the silo, the terrain changed to overgrown grass. A single streetlamp stood beside the tiny brick building, illuminating a graffitied gray door.
The men reached it without incident, the night eerily quiet around them. For people who didn’t want company, they didn’t seem to have anyone watching for intruders.
But looks could be deceiving.
No sooner did he have the thought than the door burst open, gunfire breaking the silence like a loud clap of thunder on a sunny day. There were two men and Luke fired his weapon just as Moto fired his, the men going down quickly. “This is too easy,” said Luke.
Moto wiped his mouth. “Do you think they’re waiting for us?”
“Yeah.” Luke blew out air. He gestured toward the steel door. “On my six.”
Luke stood at the top of the concrete stairway, the stench of water and mold heavy on the dank air. Through his goggles he could see the graffiti extended on either side of the stairway, which seemed to disappear into standing water at the bottom. He held his weapon in front of him as he moved down the stairs, plunging his foot knee deep in the muck.
He rounded a corner, the water extending for another fifteen feet before a second set of steps emerged from its depths. He sloshed through it and up, Moto right behind him, Razorback and T-ball pulling up the rear. The sound of the water sloshing echoed in the cavernous space, and Luke couldn’t help but wonder just how far the noise carried.
Someplace, this tunnel ended and another world began. It was unnerving. A narrow corridor opened into a small empty room littered with beer cans, garbage, and condom wrappers. Definitely a hangout for teenagers over the years.
According to the records Moto discovered, the missile silo had once belonged to the government but had long since been abandoned. It was sold to a private buyer in the 1980s, and just recently sold again to AGL Aerospace.
It was the perfect hiding place for an enormous machine capable of producing dangerous weapons. This was private property, and it allowed Walsh the freedom to manufacture what he wanted without the prying eyes he might experience above ground.
He’s like a goddamn mole.
He thought of Summer beneath Walsh, thought of what might have happened if he hadn’t arrived when he did. She was just a scientist struggling to innovate, to create materials that would take aerospace design further than it had gone before. She didn’t deserve any of this.
He shook his head to clear it. That woman hadn’t deserved a lot of the blows she’d experienced in life, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to fix any of it.
He crossed the room and exited into another concrete corridor that ended at a second steel door. This one was locked. A large steering-wheel type of mechanism was centered in the middle of it, and Luke tried to open the door but had no luck. He pulled at the wheel, using all his weight, but it wouldn’t budge.
He stepped back while the other men tried to open it. It wouldn’t move, and there was only one way to open a steel door that didn’t want to be opened.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Razorback.
Explosives.
They were in his pack. He was rarely without them, like an old man who no longer drove a car but always had his driver’s license in his wallet. Luke swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “The metal needs some persuading.”
Moto chuckled. “Yeah, like with C4.”
Luke looked from floor to ceiling. “I don’t think we have to worry about the force of the explosion causing these walls to cave in. It’s built to withstand a goddamn rocket launch.”
Moto eyed him warily. He hadn’t been on the recent mission where Luke had frozen up, unable to detonate a charge, but no doubt he’d heard about it. “Either we knock it down or we walk away, Wiseman.”
“Summer’s father needs our help,” said Luke. Sweat dripped from his brow beneath his brain bucket and he swiped at it, images of that fateful day in Afghanistan and Buckeye’s death racing through his mind.
I should have found another way.
I should have given him more time.
But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true, hadn’t been possible, just like there was only one way to break through this door—and it was a door that needed to be broken down, no matter whether he wanted to do it or not.
Moto held out his hand. “Tell me how to do it. I’ll set the charges.”
He could face his fears or he could live without these skills that could help people like Summer’s father. “No.” Luke shook his head slowly, a calmness washing over him. “I’ll do it.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew the block of C4, his hand trembling as he carefully wired it up and placed it strategically around the steel door hinges and latch.
His determination was grim and in direct contrast to his shaking fingers. There would be no backing away this time, no refusal of this call. Summer’s father needed their help, and Summer needed him.
He would do anything for her. He cared more for her than he cared for his past. He finished setting the charges. “Gas masks on. Make sure you’re ready.”
“Roger that,” said the men in unison.
Luke counted down from five and pressed the detonator, the fierce explosion of light and sound seemingly amplified by the small space. The blast went through Luke like the rumble of judgment day itself, his feet firmly planted on the ground as the blast wave shook his body.
“Go, go, go!” said Moto.
Luke took off through the opening, disoriented by the smoke and the unknown layout of the missile silo. No one was shooting at them. No one was even in sight, and the dread that had been coiling in his stomach lunged forward like a snake.
The air cleared as he circled a metal spiral staircase down, the smell of the bomb dissipating as a new odor moved into its place. It was metallic and charged, like the moment before a lightning strike, the pervasive dampness an undercurrent to it all.
His feet hit the ground in a control room of sorts, mid-century computer equipment lining one wall like a scene from an old sci-fi movie. Moto moved beside him, weapon at the ready as they searched for the next gateway into the center of the silo.
Luke pushed through another metal door, finding a stairwell with concrete steps and no handrails. “Over here,” he called, the others quickly following behind. The concrete was falling apart in chunks, pieces of steps and the wall itself, crumbling around them.
Down, down, down.
One final door. It was locked.
“Looks like you’re going to have to do it again,” said Moto.
Luke was already reaching for the charges. “I’m on it. Get ready to shoot.”
A flash of light singed his eyes a split second before an explosion rocked the space, his mind momentarily confused by the blast erupting before he’d set the charges. Then he was falling, ash and concrete and darkness mixing with a frightening rumble and the keen edge of understanding. It wasn’t his explosives that had gone off. It was someone else’s, and Moto, T-ball, Razorback, and he were directly in the blast zone.
Time inched forward, Luke squeezing his eyes shut as debris pelted his skin, keenly aware of the concrete and steel that waited beneath his falling body to catch him.
I am a dead man.
23
Summer sat in the chopper with Mac some half mile from the missile silo, where Luke and the others were fighting this battle instead of her. She held her cell phone to her ear, cringing as Steven Walsh screamed on the other end of the line. “You lied to me!”
“I promise, I told you the truth. The chemical equations I gave you to make Alloy 531 are right.”
“Bullshit. Now your father’s going to die because you decided to put profits ahead of his life.”
“No!”
“Then stop lying to me! I’m not an idiot. I followed your directions to the letter and all I got was something markedly bet
ter than Reynolds Wrap. No more games, or he dies tonight, whether from lack of blood thinner or a bullet between his eyes, I really don’t give a shit.”
“I can help you.”
Mac leaned forward, his eyes wide.
“I can come to you,” she continued. “I can show you how to make Alloy 531 in person.”
Mac mouthed the word no.
Walsh laughed. “How stupid do you think I am? You want the brancium and the only way for you to get it is to find out where my manufacturing setup is.”
“I want my father back. I don’t give a damn about the metal.”
“Then you should have thought of that before. You say it will take him a few more hours to stroke out from his lack of medication. I think I’ll wait. Google says that would be a very painful death.”
The line went dead. “No! Wait…” She looked at the screen and yelled in frustration. “They’re going to let him die. That stupid idiot Walsh screwed something up when he was making the alloy, and now he thinks I lied to him.”
“The team is inside. They’ve already made it into the inner portion of the silo. They’ll find him.”
Would they? Or would she simply lose the only person left who mattered to her? It hadn’t escaped her notice that Luke was in charge of the mission, and the last time he’d been in charge of a mission that involved her family, he’d allowed her brother to die.
Don’t think about that now.
But what the hell was she going to think about? Luke was down there fighting for her father, and she was sitting safely on the sidelines with the one thing that could potentially save her father’s life. Her own skills and know-how. She unbuckled her seat belt. “That’s not a chance I’m willing to take. I’m going in there.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m not asking for your permission. If you want to help, give me a bulletproof vest or something. A gun. I don’t know. But even if you don’t give me anything, I’m still going in.” She opened her door and climbed down.
“Now hang on just a second. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. There could be an army of men down there with guns just waiting for you to walk through the door.”
“They’ll let him go if they can make the alloy.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then we are all as good as dead anyway.” She shook her head. “At least, I am. Now, are you going to help me or not?”
The ground rumbled, and a loud boom reverberated through the air a moment later.
“How much do you think they can take, Mac? How many explosions before none of your guys come back out of that hole?”
He grumbled under his breath as he exited the chopper. “You hired me to protect you. This is the exact opposite of that. Putting you in harm’s way. Delivering you to the devil with everything but a goddamn bow on top of your head.”
“Please.” She fought to keep her emotions in check. “He’s all I have left. You know what happened to my brother. I know you do. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I was there.”
“Then you know I can’t lose one more person I love. I just can’t do it. Not when I might be able to save him.”
He pursed his lips, his stare dropping. “I’m sorry, Summer. For everything you’ve lost. But letting you walk in there… Your brother would never forgive me.”
A crackle preceded Luke’s voice on their headsets. “…you copy?”
“Wiseman? Repeat,” said Mac. Summer met his eyes as the silence stretched for long moments.
Another crackle was followed by an unintelligible syllable, then a single word. “…help…”
The desperation in Luke’s voice was palpable. She moved closer to Mac, begging. “Please. We have to go in there. You heard him. He needs our help.”
Resolve hardened in his eyes, showing a formidable side Summer had yet to see from him. “I won’t be able to protect you. You might be hurt, even die.”
“That’s better than sitting here doing nothing. Without them I don’t have anything left. Can’t you imagine what that’s like?”
They stared at each other, eyes locked. “Yes. I can.”
“Please. Let me come with you.”
“Get in the chopper.”
“No! I’m going in there.”
“Damn straight. We both are. Now get in.” He stepped aside, offering his hand to help her up and calling over his shoulder, “Sloan, get her suited up.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. We’re just throwing men into that hole. We have to do something different. Give them what they want. Do it now.”
Mac fitted her with the bulletproof vest. “Keep your head down and stay back. Do everything you’re told to do, right when you’re told to do it.”
“Okay.”
The chopper spun so quickly her stomach lurched. Then they were moving onto the grounds of the missile silo, over the electric fence, past the sleeping dogs, and landing directly in front of the steel door under the single streetlamp.
She got sight of a dead body and turned her head away, biting back the vomit that made her stomach lurch. She followed Mac down the darkened staircase and through fetid water before rising on the other side, the scent of combustion on the air. She was certain now those were bombs she had heard. Explosives. And she sincerely hoped they’d been used to clear their way instead of hurt someone.
She couldn’t think about that now.
Her feet were wet and cold, her ears ringing with a high-pitched hum as she walked behind Mac through a darkened corridor. They could be approaching the gates of hell, having already crossed the river Styx, nothing good awaiting them at the end of this maze.
But there had to be something good.
Her father.
Luke.
She gasped for air, suddenly feeling as if she couldn’t breathe, knowing he was down here fighting this battle for her, putting his own life at risk. He was wrestling her demons in her stead, so clearly on her side, yet she’d been terrible to him. Unforgiving.
A voice spoke from the darkness, close to her ear. He’s a good guy.
She jumped, spinning around, the passageway completely empty as a shiver raced up her spine. It was Edward’s voice, as real and audible as Mac’s or her own, except he wasn’t there.
But he was.
“Help us,” she whispered, feeling his presence all around her. She turned back around, her knees weak and shaking, and followed Mac deeper into the abyss.
They made their way through an ancient command center and into another stairwell smelling even worse than the first, and she clung to the walls to stay away from the side of the steps with no railing.
How far did it go down? It was a missile silo, for God’s sake. It could be stories upon stories, and she imagined falling into the darkness without end. She swallowed against the moldy taste in her throat. “Can you reach him on your headset? Has he said anything?”
“Negative. Nothing since the first time,” said Mac.
They continued in silence until they reached a mangled steel door, concrete and rubble all around. “Looks like Luke’s been here,” said Mac.
Her father was in here somewhere, probably terribly sick by now without his medicine if he was even alive. How were they going to get him out? This path was too treacherous for a gurney, the floor too uneven, the stairway unsafe.
Don’t think about that now.
Find him first.
They continued on through another straightaway and onto another staircase. These halls were built to sustain destruction, to protect it in case the world came to an end. Now they were being used for exactly that purpose, but on a far smaller scale than intended. To damage her entire family.
Her world alone was being destroyed.
Mac’s voice in the darkness was her first inkling that something was terribly wrong. “Holy shit, the whole thing collapsed.”
She strained to see around him, leaning perilously close to the side of the st
airs. There, just below them, a swath of camouflage fabric was visible beneath a large block of broken concrete.
“Luke!” Her voice should have been loud, but it came out as a barely audible squeak. Mac grabbed her arm when she would have run by him.
“No. Don’t go down there.”
“But he needs me. He needs our help.”
Mac’s eyes were steely and black. “That isn’t Luke, it’s T-ball.” His bottom lip trembled in the dim light. “And he’s already gone.”
24
Luke wiped the blood from his mouth and forced his injured leg to bear weight, his breath hissing through his clenched teeth. Given his “good leg” was half prosthetic, that was one hell of an accomplishment.
T-ball was dead, Moto had a broken femur and couldn’t walk, and Razorback was barely conscious, leaving Luke the last man standing as he crossed into the heart of enemy territory. There was no question he would continue on. As long as there was life in his body, he would persevere.
He had to save Summer’s father or die trying, no matter the latter was now more likely. The blast that had destroyed the platform they stood on had also opened the door, allowing him access to a straight tunnel. He used the wall as a crutch, Moto’s assault rifle slung over his shoulder and Luke’s foot dragging behind him.
There was a sound in the distance, repetitive whirring that sounded as if it came from a wide-open space instead of a narrow passageway. A faint light illuminated the space, growing brighter as he forced his way forward. When a cool breeze kissed his skin, he knew he had reached the silo itself.
He limped to the edge of the corridor, three men coming into view. Two had weapons at their waists, the closest of the three turning to face him and drawing his gun. “Intruder!”
Luke fired, killing the two men closest to him as the third man attacked, knocking the rifle sideways and punching Luke in the gut. He swung his leg in a roundhouse kick that narrowly missed Luke’s head, but Luke grabbed the man’s ankle in his fist, the force of the man’s movements throwing Luke’s weight onto his injured leg, and he cried out, pushing the man away before lining up his shot and firing.