"Which is what? Tell me something specific."
"I don't know."
"I figured."
I gritted my teeth. Lilith gave me an eye-rolling look. Fathers, she seemed to say.
"Okay," I said, dialing down my rising annoyance. "How about this. Why don't you just think of it as a vacation? Spending some quality time with your only son?"
My dad chuckled. "I live in Florida near the ocean. My whole fucking life's a vacation. And hell yeah, I'd like to see you, but not holed up in some retreat with a bunch of prepper fanatics."
"Will you please just trust me on this, Dad?"
A silence followed. I thought I heard him sigh.
"Hayden..." He made a clearing-throat sound. "Something I've been meaning to tell you. I, well, met someone."
That thought hadn't even occurred to me. My dad had loved my mom with a quiet, smoldering passion. After her death, I imagined him lying on her grave for years like a loyal dog. And I knew for a fact that for at least a year he didn't do much but lie around. When I'd visited him, talking to him had been like talking to a brick wall. A severely depressed brick wall. He rarely left the house.
"Is it serious?" I asked, trying not to sound as stunned as I felt.
"I'd say so." He cleared his throat again. "Look, Hayden, I want you to understand something. I'll always love your mom. Hardly a day goes by I don't think about her. But Maddie is someone special. I didn't realize how much I was just dragging my feet through life until I met her."
"Well, um...I'm happy for you, Dad."
"Heh. I can hear how overjoyed you are. It's okay, son. But you can see why I'm not all fired up about running off to your hideaway. If things do get dicey, I'll be needed here. I know you know how to handle yourself."
"Yeah. I understand."
"You go on to your safe haven, Hayden. When the dust has cleared, assuming there's any to clear, I'm hoping you'll come for a visit so we can catch up."
"Okay. Sounds good, Dad." I considered suggesting that he at least find a good basement or underground shelter somewhere, but what was the point? "I'll talk to you in a bit."
"I'll be here. Take care of yourself, Hayden."
"You, too, Dad."
I set the cell phone on the storage divider between us with a frustrated grunt. Lilith shot me a sympathetic smile.
"You tried," she said.
"Yeah, right."
"He's got a new girlfriend."
"Looks that way."
I leaned back in the seat. Outside, the forests and mountains were swiftly surrendering to high plains desert.
"Where is this place anyway?"
"You'll see when you get there." Her smile was cryptic. "Don't feel bad, Hayden. If he's with a new woman, you never had a chance. Most women own men during the honeymoon phase."
"I'm sure you'd know."
"Not personally. But I do have eyes, ears, and a brain."
"Not personally?" I turned to her. "What – did you skip the honeymoon and go straight to the ball and chain phase?"
"Ha. Neither." She kept her eyes forward as she drove. "No honeymoon period, no ball and chain, no anything in between. Not even friendship. Except with you, if that counts."
That knocked me out of my lassitude. I sat forward and stared at her.
"Does that mean what I think it means?"
"That depends. Knowing you, I expect your interpretation to be perverse."
"The most perverse and impossible thing I can think of is that you're a virgin."
Lilith smiled. Maybe it was a bitter smile. Or maybe it was just stoically resigned.
"Hank mentioned you don't fraternize outside your own people," I said. "Is that part of it?"
"It's part."
"Don't want to spoil the royal blood line?"
Lilith glanced at me, her smile wearing thin. "In a sense. We have a culture and certain genetic traits we wish to preserve. Not to mention the secrecy of our identity."
"What are you? Some secret branch of Mennonites? Descendents of an ancient Masonic order or maybe Egyptian gods?"
"You're getting warm." She shook her head. "Hayden, I'm not playing twenty questions with you any more on this subject. You'll learn the whole story soon enough."
"Fine. I don't have any problem believing you're descended from a goddess, by the way. You've got the looks and imperious manner down cold."
"You could be descended from one of those minor deities who are always causing trouble."
"Bacchus?"
She laughed. "Don't flatter yourself."
We turned off the highway only three hours out, and followed a dirt road two or three miles to a massive rock formation. We crept up a steep winding road on the rock's backside that made good use of the Volvo's all-wheel drive, arriving at a modernistic two-story house composed of sharp angles and lots of glass – all colored so that it was virtually indistinguishable from the rock towering around it.
"Nice," I said. "But I'm not sure how much safer this house would be than many other places."
"The house, no."
One of the doors in the five-bay garage opened. We rolled in. The garage was dimly lit, and ours was the only car. The walls were barren of the usual shelves of tools and miscellaneous stuff. Lilith stared at the far wall.. Somewhere below us a machine wheezed to life. The entire garage floor began to descend.
"Whoa," I said.
A few moments of darkness as we sank, the whole floor like a reverse car-lift, descending into what appeared to be a large underground parking facility filled with dozens if not hundreds of cars. We touched down, and Lilith drove off the platform with a small bump . I watched the three-foot thick garage floor rise and merge seamlessly with the roof twenty feet above us. We parked in a nearby vacant space and climbed out. I followed Lilith to a door, hearing rapid-fire metallic thunks as we approached. She shoved down the lever, which seemed to require some muscle on her part, and swung a two foot bank vault-style door open.
"Is someone watching us and triggering the locks?" I asked.
"Someone might be watching us, but the security cameras use recognition software which opens everywhere I'm allowed to go automatically."
I looked at the walls, but didn't see any cameras. We entered a hallway – Lilith closing the door behind us. Its lock bolts thunked back into place as we approach an elevator. The doors opened. Inside, Lilith tapped "ground floor" and smiled at me as if waiting for me to comment.
"I've always wanted to visit Spectre headquarters," I said.
"What is 'Spectre'?"
"One of James Bond's biggest criminal nemeses." I was smiling and trying to be cool while my teeth were on the edge of chattering with nervous anticipation. I wasn't sure if I should feel impressed or very afraid. "You're not a fan?"
"Of Daniel Craig?" She smiled and raised her eyebrows in appreciation. "He's okay, but I've never watched any of the Bond movies. They looked beyond stupid – all explosions and stunts and CGI on top of ridiculous stories. And by the way, we are not a criminal organization."
"I have the feeling our government would disagree."
"It's not my government."
The elevator stopped. We stepped out into a brightly lit hallway and walked past rooms and an open community/plaza area that could've been at home in any upscale business building. I spotted a few people here and there – two middle-aged couples talking in a corner of the plaza, a thirtiesh guy tapping on a computer in a room off the hallway, two buff dudes approaching us – but the place was like a 24-hour Wal-Mart at 1 A.M.
The two buff dudes blocked our path. Déjà vu all over again.
"We'll take him from here," one of them said.
Lilith didn't move. "Where to?"
"To meet someone." The spokesman held his hands palms-out, meeting Lilith's eyes and ignoring me, a hint of a smile in his hard face. "That's all, I promise."
"It's okay, Lilith," I said, patting her arm and easing away from her. "If they wanted to kill me, they didn't need
to bring me here."
"That's quite true," said a dude, his smile spreading harshly. I was starting to suspect he might be an asshole. Or maybe he was an ex-Marine?
They marched me off down the hall under Lilith's worried gaze. I doubted they were in that much of a hurry. This was Cesar Milan stuff – letting me know who was dominant, who was in control. I slowed, letting them move ahead. They grudgingly fell back to join me. One of them reached for my arm. I shook him off.
"Just give me an excuse," said the original speaker from one corner of his mouth. "Barry was a friend of mine."
"The guy I took out at Professor Killian's?"
The dude clenched his jaw and forced his eyes away from mine.
"You know that was self-defense. They were going to kill me, right?"
"Shut the fuck up."
Some royalty these guys were. But I understood. When someone hurts your friend in battle you don't spend a lot of time pondering abstract ethical principles. Your friends are your brothers. Those who would hurt them are your enemies, period.
They escorted me into what appeared to be a conference room featuring the usual long table and two men. One of them was Markus Killian. My chaperones backed away as Markus approached, hand outstretched.
"It's good to see you, Hayden," he said. "I'm glad you decided to come."
"I appreciate you putting in the good word for me."
"I was happy to. We owe you that much."
We shook hands.
Markus turned to his companion. "Hayden, this is Harold Manning."
The man didn't rise or make any motion to shake hands. He was fit, lean-faced, with short locks of grey hair and penetrating grey eyes. He reminded me of Carl Sagan. He motioned to the chair on my side of the table.
"First, I want to express my appreciation for your work with Professor Killian," he said as I sat. "You've confirmed some suspicions and uncovered new evidence that has proven very useful to us."
I was tempted to tell him that nothing I did was for him or his people, but under the circumstances I chose to accept his gratitude with a modest smile and a nod.
"There's not much to know about life here," Manning continued. "Nearly everything is automated. Food is dispensed at one location. You can choose from a variety of menus. Your room has purified water and other basic necessities. Markus will show you to it when I'm done as well as answering other questions you will have about this place."
"Can you tell me now what's going to happen?" I asked.
"I can tell you there will be a struggle. Beyond that, we'll need to wait and see." He fixed me with a grave stare. "You're a curious man, Mr. Hunter. I understand and applaud your quest for knowledge and truth. But I must caution you that parts of this building are off-limits to you. You will know those areas by virtue of them being locked and accessible only to those with security clearances."
"I understand." Talk about inflaming a guy's curiosity.
"I must also caution you against fraternizing with the females here. I mean fraternization of an intimate nature. I understand you are something of a ladies man, and you'll need to curb that proclivity here." His eyes drilled into me as I raised my eyebrows. I was a ladies man? When did that glorious miracle happen? "Those are your two conditions of staying here with full privileges. Should you violate those rules, your privileges will be revoked."
"You mean you'd throw me out?"
He shook his head. "I'm afraid you must remain here for the interim. But a violation of these rules would result in your losing your freedom. Only two simple rules, Mr. Hunter. I'm sure you can abide by them without undue stress."
He stood up and offered his hand. "Good luck, Mr. Hunter. Good luck to us all."
I walked out with Professor Killian.
"That was interesting," I said.
"Yes, well, Harold's task isn't an easy one," Markus said with a pained chuckle. "But it is good to have you here, Hayden. In time, I believe you will see the advantage of our alliance. It will place you in good stead in the future."
So now I was allied with these people. Not a very safe assumption on their part.
"In the future when you rule the world?"
Markus offered an even more pained chuckle. "I won't be ruling anyone. Yes, there will be, we hope, a transition of power, and at first the usual mechanisms of the state will be in operation, but in time they will fade, and I believe then we will all be better off."
"The state will wither away? Where have I heard that before?"
"Indeed. But we have some different conceptions from Marx. Perhaps you can see your way to having a little faith, Hayden. Strange words from a scientist, I know, but this may be one of those rare situations where it has some application."
My survival sense was telling me not to share my feelings about our supposed alliance.
"Not a lot of people here," I said. "Unless they're hiding somewhere."
"No, we have something of a skeleton crew here now. That, however, could change quickly and substantially."
We stopped at an open door. Light shone across a room so white that it almost hurt my eyes. It appeared to be a studio apartment: bed, sofa, table. Another door leading presumably to a bathroom. No hint of a kitchen. Or a TV. A computer tablet was perched on the table.
"No communication with the outer world?" I asked. "No WiFi?"
"No direct communication, no. We have televisions carrying primary networks on each level. Otherwise, there are some clothes and bathroom essentials in your closet, as well as a computer tablet for reading and personal use. We have a library and a movie theater as well."
I moved to the center of the room and turned in a full circle. It seemed that I'd exchanged one prison room for another. An upgraded version.
"The light seems natural," I said. "I thought we were buried deep in the rock."
"We are. It's done with tunnels of hardened glass and amplifying mirrors."
"Huh."
A large, familiar form appeared in my peripheral vision. I turned as Hank Gilmore entered the room, grinning as if he'd won the lottery.
"I heard you were coming in!" He was reaching for a hug but settled for a handshake as Markus looked on. "To be honest, I didn't think you'd choose to come here. I guess, uh" – he glanced at the professor – "someone was pretty convincing."
"I was about to show Hayden the dining area," said Markus with a slight frown. "Perhaps you'd like to take over my welcoming duties, Hank?"
"No problem at all, Professor. Be happy to."
He looked relieved as Markus departed with a dry smile.
"Quite an adventure you got yourself caught up in, brother."
"Yeah. An adventure that just keeps getting weirder."
Hank laughed and clapped me on the back. "Come on. I'll show you the lay of the land."
LATER THAT night I lay awake on my new bed – one of an ever-growing number of new beds – and tried to put it all together. Maybe I was just slow, but only now was the big picture, absent a few telling details, coming into focus.
Basically I was caught up in a struggle between the Powers That Be and the Powers That Wannabe . A new revolution that would raise humankind, or merely a case of "Say hello to the new boss, same as the old boss"? Plus there was some event that would serve as a focal point – or the catalyst? – for the upcoming conflict. Neither side seemed completely clear on how that would play out.
And I was stuck in the middle. Or was I? Markus and company seemed to believe I was on their side, but how could I be on a side when I didn't know what its intentions were? Bringing peace and prosperity seemed a little vacuous. What political party or philosophy said: "We'll bring you eternal torment and wretched poverty?"
While I was roaming the level, one major question mark that verged on a "Danger Will Robinson!" alarm sounded when I caught a glimpse inside one of the off-limits rooms. Men were bending over what appeared to be a large electronic image of the United States – an image peppered by lines and multi-colored lights omino
usly suggestive of a war operations map. The more I thought about what I'd seen the more my paranoia pushed into the endangered Will Robinson zone.
Giving up on sleep, I threw on some clothes and left my room. Overhead sensor lights flicked on along my path as I walked, bopping me on the head with each step as punishment for being up when everyone else was asleep. I hadn't heard any rules against wandering around in the middle of the night, but who knew with these people. During my tour with Hank I'd begun feeling like a stranger in a strange land. My growing impression was that people were different here – a notion Hank had seconded with gusto. He believed in these people but didn't claim to either understand them or relate to them. They'd always been a part of his life yet rarely present, much like absent parents.
I stopped at the cafeteria. No one was there, which didn't matter much. The food "dispenser" was basically a huge vending machine, reminiscent of Star Trek's replicators: you pressed in a code and after a minute or two or three – longer for grilled steaks – your meal or drink slid out. I asked Hank, but he had no clue how they worked. He guessed some advanced microwave technology. I'd have to ask Markus or Lilith about that tomorrow.
I switched on the large-screen TV at one end of the cafeteria. CBS News was showing armored vehicles and masses of machine gun-toting police, National Guard, and DHS agents swarming through various city streets and neighborhoods forcing people at gunpoint out of their homes in a large-scale replay of the Boston Bombing. "Shelter In Place" placards were everywhere.
I watched, mesmerized and repulsed, as hundreds if not thousands of people were herded into buses and vans and hauled away. It was hard to tell the numbers and locations because the camera kept skipping around between places, but the gist was obvious: a large section of the United States had just been placed under massive martial law.
The other shoe dropped when a newscaster mentioned that a suspected EMP blast over South Dakota had downed several commercial airliners as well as taking out much of the power grid in the Midwest. Holy fuck. I clamped my hands around the back of my neck, my pulse squirming under the palms of my hands. This was total B disaster movie shit. I was sinking into an alternate reality.
"To this point," a newscaster, supposedly standing near a dam in South Dakota, "details are sketchy. So far we know of at least eight major airliner crashes and many minor vehicle accidents, but the number of deaths and injuries is currently only a guess. We do know that as of now millions of households and businesses are without electricity at a time when temperatures are plummeting."
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