by Shéa MacLeod
“I understand. Thanks for your hospitality. Hard to come by these days.”
“You’re welcome back any time.” It wasn’t too dark to catch Albie’s smile. “Always nice to know there’s still other human beings left in this screwed-up old world.”
Amen to that. With a last look, Rain slipped out the door and disappeared down the dusty streets of Fossil.
THE DAY RAIN MET SUTTER was the first time he saved her life.
She couldn’t have been more than five. Maybe six. She’d gotten outside the compound and Padre Pedro had sent the ten-year-old Sutter to find her. Ten was practically an adult in their world.
“Hey, princess. What you doin’ out here all by yourself?” He’d wrapped his skinny boy arms around her, his dark skin rich against the paleness of her own. She thought he was pretty, even if he was a boy.
“Wanted to see the flowers.” It was spring and a few wild flowers struggled through the earth laid bare by dragon fire.
“You shouldn’t be out here, you know. Drags could get ya, then Padre Pedro would kick my ass. You want him kickin’ my ass?”
She giggled at that. “No. You’re nice.”
He grinned. “Let’s get back, okay?”
“’Kay.” She’d taken his hand and let him lead her back toward the compound.
They were halfway there when she heard a sound that froze her in her tracks. The warning rattle of a rattlesnake. Dragons were the big danger of her small world, but a rattlesnake would kill you just as dead.
Sutter’s voice was quiet. Calm. “You just be still now, princess. Don’t move a muscle.”
And she hadn’t. She’d stood there frozen while the snake rattled its tail and hissed its warning.
Sutter reached slowly, slowly to the small of his back and pulled out his blade. Then with one smooth flick of the wrist, his knife whirled through the air taking the snake’s head clean off.
That night they’d had snake for dinner. Padre Pedro claimed it tasted like chicken. Rain thought it tasted like snake.
And from then on Rain had been Sutter’s shadow. And he’d been her hero.
RAIN VALIANTLY RESISTED the urge to sneeze. Barely.
She lay belly down in the dust beneath a scrawny juniper tree right at the edge of a decline. The juniper would provide some cover, should any of the Marines be watching. Fortunately, they didn’t appear to be.
Below her, the Marine base sat smack-dab in the middle of a stretch of valley completely devoid of vegetation. Smart. Not only did that mean there was zero cover should anyone wish to sneak up on the base, it also meant the dragons couldn’t set the surrounding countryside on fire. Hard to burn dirt.
Unlike the compound that made up Sanctuary, there was no fence, just a single cinder block building with a wide bay door sitting in the middle of nowhere. There were no other buildings. It appeared the entire base was below ground.
She scanned the valley. No Humvees and nowhere for a Marine to hide. The surrounding hillsides, save the one she lay on, were too low and too far away from the base to do any good. Not even a sniper could pick someone off from that far. So, if there was one, he had to be somewhere on the hill with her.
Rain scooted out from under the tree, careful not to raise a dust cloud and give away her position. All she needed was some Marine breathing down her neck. She wanted to be the one breathing down his.
The surrounding countryside was pretty flat, hills notwithstanding, a few rocks and low shrubs. She scanned the entire area, but there wasn’t so much as a glint of anything to give away position. If there was a Marine out there, he was damn good.
She slid her knife from her boot. The steel blade had been carbonized. No glint from her, either. Keeping as low as possible, she slipped through the underbrush, circling the flat hilltop.
He was on the other side of the hill, directly opposite where she’d been hiding. The buzz cut and faded military fatigues gave him away, as did the bulging muscles. Definitely a Marine.
Rain hesitated. He’d most likely been forced into service, probably as a teenager. They’d no doubt brainwashed him, too. That’s what the Marines did.
The fact was that brainwashed or not, he’d shoot his own mother now if given the order. Rain couldn’t risk exposure. Still, he didn’t deserve to die. She slid the knife back in her boot, her hand searching for a new weapon. It closed around a good-sized rock.
She slipped up behind the Marine, feet silent against the rocky hillside. In one smooth movement she brought the rock down on his head. He crumpled to the ground.
She pressed her fingers to his throat as Padre Pedro had showed her. His pulse was steady. Hopefully, he’d be out long enough for her to get into the Marine base. Whether or not he’d raise the alarm once he woke was another matter. Unfortunately, she had no way to tie him up and she dared not waste any more time.
A quick scan of the rest of the hilltop revealed he’d been the only lookout. Whatever they were up to, they’d left the base practically unguarded. Stupid, but no doubt they thought themselves safe. Everyone was afraid of the Marines.
Rain removed the Marine’s camouflage jacket and slipped it over her own clothes before heading down the hill. No sense giving herself away if there were other eyes watching. Maybe the camo would fool them long enough.
She walked straight toward the single building, shoulders back, arms swinging, a slight swagger to her steps. When in doubt, Sutter used to say, pretend like you own the damn joint.
She swallowed hard. Sutter was dead. She was just bringing him home.
The bay door was shut tight. No way in she could see. No handle, nothing.
Rain stepped around the side of the small gray building. There she found a regular door. Looked like it had once been painted red, but dust storms had scoured it down so only a bit of reddish pink still clung to the steel.
The doorknob turned easily. Apparently, the Marines weren’t in the habit of locking doors. How on earth had they stayed in power so long?
Oh, yeah. Guns.
Inside the building was a typical garage bay. Except instead of having a flat cement floor ending at the back wall, the floor sloped down and disappeared underground like one of those old parking garages. So, that was how they kept the Humvees out of sight.
She headed down the ramp, her eyes scanning for cameras. She’d never seen them herself, but Padre Pedro had once given her and Sutter a crash-course in Old Tech. Apparently the Marines could still get their hands on the stuff, so it paid to be aware.
She saw nothing but smooth walls painted gray. As she moved deeper down, it grew increasingly dark. In her own compound there were lights everywhere and plenty of niches with candles and strikers just in case the power went out.
Apparently, the Marines didn’t need lights. She supposed the lights on the Humvees were enough. She finally resorted to hugging one wall as the track twisted down lower and lower into the earth.
Rain tried hard not to think about the darkness pressing against her eyelids. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the dark. Just, uncomfortable with it.
Finally, she spied light ahead. It was a dull yellow glow, but it was there.
The track spilled into a giant cavern large enough to house a dozen Humvees. There were two of them parked in the space. Five had gone out through the town of Fossil, according to the boy, which meant the Marines only had seven.
Seven Humvees to terrorize the world. Her part of it anyway.
Rain clenched her jaw. The world was terrorized enough by the drags. They didn’t need the fucking Marines adding to it.
On the far side of the cavern was another steel door. This one was still bright red. She made a beeline straight for it.
Rain paused, hand on the doorknob. Anything could be on the other side of that door. There could be twenty Marines, weapons pointed at her head, for all she knew.
Rain took a deep breath, bracing for what she might find on the other side. Slowly, she turned the knob and swung the door open.
Seven
NOTHING.
There was nothing on the other side of the red door but another dimly lit tunnel and more gray walls. No Marines with guns. No shrieking alarms. Nothing.
Rain trailed her fingers along the smooth walls. She kept her footsteps light. Down here any sound would echo like crazy. Last thing she wanted was a Marine platoon on her ass. They had to be down there somewhere.
The tunnel dead-ended at a blast door. Seven feet high, solid steel. No way in but a key pad to the side of the door.
“Damn,” she whispered. She should have expected it. If this really was an old military installation, of course it would have some kind of security.
She gave the key pad a good once-over. Four of the numbers were nearly worn off their keys which meant those were the numbers in use. But in what sequence? And what would happen if she entered the wrong code?
Not to mention, what was waiting on the other side?
Strangely there were no cameras, though there was an old mount and some frayed wires where one had been. Maybe it didn’t work anymore so they took it down. Or more likely they’d cannibalized it for parts.
She scanned the rest of the tunnel. Nothing. No other way in. She sighed and tilted her head back. Something caught her eye.
“Bingo.”
There. In the ceiling just over the door was a grate. And no doubt behind that grate was some kind of air duct.
But how to get up there? The grate was way too high to reach on her own. Even if she dragged a ladder down here it would be a dead giveaway once the Marines returned.
Sudden inspiration sent her hustling back up the tunnel and into the parking bay. The Marines needed lots of equipment to fight the dragons. There had to be something useful in the Humvees.
The parking bay was just as she’d left it: Quiet and dim. She headed toward the nearest Humvee. It looked like it was in the middle of being repaired. Half its guts were laid out on the floor next to a set of worn tools.
She poked around in the interior. Nothing. Not so much as a scrap of paper let alone anything useful.
The second Humvee was parked in the furthest corner of the bay. It had obviously been out of commission for quite some time. The wheels had been removed and replaced with cinder blocks, and a thick coat of dust covered the windshield. Someone had scrawled “wash me” in the dust.
Rain shook her head. Marines had an odd sense of humor, apparently. Who in their right mind would waste water washing a Humvee?
She opened the Humvee door, careful the hinges didn’t squeak. The inside was as dusty as the outside.
The vehicle had been stripped clean. Rain nearly gave up before she spotted something under the driver’s seat.
She snaked it out. It was a thin, blue nylon rope, faded with time. She smiled to herself. Now to find some kind of hook.
A poke through the assorted tools and motor parts on the floor turned up a random piece of metal that had a slight curve to it. She hefted it. Good balance. It ought to work.
She tucked it in her pocket along with a screwdriver then hurried back down the tunnel to the ceiling grate. She quickly tied one end of the rope around the metal piece then shrugged out of her “borrowed” Marine jacket and spread it on the floor under the grate. The tough fabric would hopefully minimize the noise of metal striking concrete should she miss.
Rain inhaled then tossed the metal piece at the grate. It took three tries before the makeshift hook caught. She tested her weight. The rope held.
Padre Pedro would have told her she should thank God. Padre Pedro was big on the One God. As far as Rain was concerned, if there was a god, he or she helped those who helped themselves.
She shimmied up the rope to the grate. It took all her effort and concentration to loosen the screws holding the grate to the ceiling without falling on her head. She had to stop and climb down the rope twice to give herself a break. By the time she was through, her muscles were shaking with fatigue.
Her reward was half the grate swinging down toward the floor. The other side where the rope was tied still hung in place by a couple of screws.
On her last trip down, she tied the jacket around her waist before starting back up the rope. She hauled herself over the lip of the hole and lay in the air duct, trying to get her strength back. She was exhausted and she hadn’t even gotten into the base yet.
Shit, this breaking and entering was hard work.
She pulled the rope up through the hole and then pulled the grate back into place. She had to replace the screws on the inside. Hopefully no one would look at the ceiling and notice the grate screws were in backward.
Writhing on her belly like a snake, Rain inched her way through the air duct. It was hot, sticky work. It felt like she’d been in the duct for hours before she finally came to another grate.
She peered into some kind of office. There was a large desk and some filing cabinets. A man sat at the desk working on a strange-looking machine. His fingers flew over the buttons, his eyes fixed firmly on the flat, upright part of the machine.
Rain frowned. She’d seen those before, in old electronic stores. Padre Pedro said they were called “computers” and people had used them before the Wars for all sorts of clever things. Like writing letters and listening to music and finding out how to make bread. Rain had a feeling the man below wasn’t trying to find out how to make bread.
She scooted further down the duct. The next grate opened into what looked like a locker room. It appeared empty. Even better, it was only a short drop to the top of the nearest locker.
Rain frowned at the grate. The screws were on the outside, which did no good, however it did seem a little loose. Someone had even stuck nuts on the duct side. Perhaps to keep it from falling open?
She smiled and loosened the nuts with nimble fingers. Sure enough, the grate pushed out easily.
Lowering it carefully to the top of the locker, Rain followed it down. Then she hopped to the floor. There was no way to replace the grate, so she tucked it behind a bank of lockers. She could only pray nobody decided they needed a shower and discovered the gaping hole in the ceiling.
Cautiously moving toward the door, Rain peered out into the hallway. She was definitely inside the base, but the walls were still that god-awful gray. Back at the compound most of the walls were painted in bright murals or plastered with pages from old magazines and calendars. Anything to add color to the place and keep the gloom of living mostly underground at bay. Apparently, the Marines lived for depression.
There were several doors along the hall, each one with a narrow window in it. Since there wasn’t a soul in sight, Rain headed to the nearest door and peered in the window. The room was empty, but it looked like some kind of gathering room. Lots of chairs faced a large blackboard at the front of the room, not unlike the classroom back at Sanctuary. But why would Marines need a classroom? They weren’t children.
The next door led into a storage room filled to bursting with canned goods. She’d bet most of the stuff was confiscated from civilian compounds. How many people had starved to death so the Marines had plenty?
Further down the hall there were a couple of offices and what looked like a recreational room, all empty. Still, Rain didn’t let down her guard. There had to be somebody around here somewhere.
She finally found a door that led into yet another gloomy gray hall. More doors lined either side with their narrow little windows gleaming in the dim light. The place was spotless. Every inch scrubbed clean. Damn, the Marines were clean-freaks.
She finally found a door that led to what was obviously some sort of lab. The knob turned easily and she slid into the deserted room.
The lights were mostly off, probably to preserve energy. A couple very dim bulbs illuminated the place just enough so Rain could see where she was going. Everywhere was stainless steel polished to a shine. Worth more than gold nowadays. She figured if the Marines really were experimenting on dead bodies, this would be just the place to find them
, and hopefully Sutter.
She frowned. There didn’t seem to be any place to hide a body. All the cupboards had glass fronts so she could see the bottles and beakers inside. Even the cold storage units which hummed gently in the corner of the room had clear glass doors. Nothing even remotely body-like inside.
Then Rain noticed another door at the back of the room. She hurried over and slowly pushed it open, aware that anything could be lurking on the other side.
The room was pitch black. Not even a nightlight to give off ambient illumination. There was a switch on the wall, so Rain stepped into the room, quietly closing the door behind her.
The switch turned on the overhead lights. Unlike the ones in the hallway, these were a bright, hard white, sending shadows scurrying away.
Rain sucked in a breath. It was a morgue.
Rows of stainless-steel doors lined two of the walls. She knew they’d hold drawers for dead bodies. She’d seen similar rooms during her tracking expeditions with Sutter. Some of them had been empty. Some of them were filled with the bones of the dead, the flesh long-since rotted away.
In the center of the room was an examination table along with a couple of strange contraptions. One looked like it belonged in a shower stall. The other appeared to have large light bulbs inside.
The table was empty, so Rain headed straight for the drawers. She slid out the nearest one. It came easily, revealing an empty slab.
One by one she slid the drawers out of the wall. One by one they proved empty. And then she slid out the last drawer.
On the slab lay a body so burned it was past recognition. Rain knew instantly it was Sutter.
“Oh, god, Sut. I’m so sorry.” A tear trickled down Rain’s face and she swiped at it angrily. Now was not the time to fall apart. She had to get Sutter’s body and get the hell out of there. She’d made him a promise and she intended to keep it.
Rain quickly searched the cupboards for the body bags the Marines used to transport their dead. Crap. There wasn’t anything. And she was certain there wasn’t anything in the lab, either.