"We should just walk over. Maybe they won't bother stopping us," Jake suggested.
"No. I don't want them knowing that we know anything," Lash said.
"We won't know anything if we just keep sitting here," Jake argued. He stepped toward the door.
"Wait, Jake," Lash said, grabbing his shoulder. He shoved her off.
"I came way too far just to sit around and wait for what happens next," he said. He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. He paused before taking a step outside. "Damn it. We're too late anyways."
A stream of people were now exiting the large building where the meeting had been held. Emotions ranged from solemnness to anger. A few shouts were heard among the crowd.
Jake shut the door. "Great," he muttered.
"Must not have been good news," Michael said, looking out the window and observing the upset locals.
Gresson and Adron were walking quickly toward the home. Michael managed to hear the tail end of their conversation.
"We don't have time to waste," Adron said.
"There is no rush for this. Give him a day, at least," Gresson pleaded.
"One day. Oh, and while they're here, they're your responsibility," Adron growled. He left Gresson and headed back to another building.
As Gresson stepped into his home, the group surrounded him with hands crossed and looks that demanded answers.
"There is not much I can tell you..." he started.
"Bullshit!" Jake protested.
"Look! These 'Exterminators' as you call them..." Gresson said.
"Well, what do you call them?" Alice asked.
Gresson paused. "We... we do not have a name for them, so for now, 'Exterminators' will do. Honestly, it's rather fitting."
"So what were you going to say?" Adam asked.
"We were not entirely prepared for them to be... doing what they are doing."
"What did you think they were going to do? Throw us a party?" Jake asked.
The front door opened and Jen walked inside.
"Alex? Marcus wants to see you," she told her husband.
Gresson nodded. "Everyone get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."
"No, we are going to talk now!" Michael demanded.
"Enough! I have given you all more than you probably deserve by bringing you here. You are just going to have to trust me. After saving your lives several times..."
"Don't act like we haven't done the same," Lash interjected.
"Shut up, Lash. This situation is much bigger than all of you. I need... I need to clear my head before I appeal to your curiosity."
"Fine. Please, just tell me this. Did they really not know about the Exterminators?" Michael asked.
"They thought... we all thought... that we had stopped them already. Obviously, we were wrong." After answering, Gresson gave his wife a peck on the cheek and walked outside.
The group turned to Jen. She knew she would not enjoy the coming conversation.
"Please. Just tell us who you people are, as well as what the hell is going on," Lash said.
"Alex is right. There's only so much we can say. But the truth is, you all seem to know a lot more than we do."
"Tell you what, let's make a deal. You get to ask us something and we get to ask you something. Fair enough?" Michael proposed.
"Alright. But there are questions I can't answer," Jen explained.
"Can't? Or won't?" Jake asked.
"Both," she replied, leading them to the living room, where they all sat down on the leather couches and the carpet floor.
"Ask away," Alice said.
Jen thought for a moment. "I noticed Alex has a small scar below his right eye. How'd he get it?"
The question took the others by surprise. None of them remembered a scar, though none of them were as familiar with Gresson's face as Jen.
"A scar?" Lucas asked.
"Yes. It's small, but right below his eye. Looks like it's close to fully healed by now."
"You mind if I ask why that was your first question, considering everything else that's going on?" Jake wondered.
"I care about him."
"In that case, a little scar shouldn't be your biggest concern. He was shot," Sean said.
Jen appeared much less fazed by that news than everyone expected. After a moment, Jake said, "Oh, right. Surviving gunshots isn't anything new for him, is it?"
"So, you don't know anything about the scar?" Jen persisted.
"Wait, he was bleeding there the night he... came to our house," Marie said.
"Yeah, that's right. I remember that now," Adam said.
"When was that?" Jen asked.
"Right after the blackout. Or the 'Arrival,' as you all call it," Adam answered.
Concern grew on Jen's face. "Has he... acted odd? Been sick or anything?"
"Well, besides putting a gun to my family's heads... Oh, and shooting other people's heads... he's been great," Adam replied with a spark of anger at the memory.
Ironically, Jen's concern seemed to dissipate slightly, though she was still anxious to ask her husband about the scar.
"Alright, our turn for a question," Lash said. "What did you talk about at your 'council' meeting?"
"Well, we talked about you, as well as the 'Exterminators' as you call them. Like Alex said, we originally thought we had stopped them. But apparently, you saw them alive and well on your way here. Most of our time was then spent discussing what to do next."
"So, what are you going to do next?" Lucas asked.
"I don't know. We still have to figure that out. But don't worry, we will find a way to stop them." Her attempt to assure them was almost mother-like.
"In this council of yours, who is in charge? I assume it's Adron?" Lash asked.
"There is no one 'in charge.' Adron is... well, he's an elder of sorts. His opinion holds a lot of weight, but if a majority of those in council disagree with him, it doesn't matter," Jen explained.
"So, it's a democracy?" Michael asked.
Jen began to feel uncomfortable. What all should I tell them? she wondered. "In a way, yes, it's a democracy."
"So everyone in your... 'clan'... gets to vote what you do next?" Jake asked.
"No," Jen replied.
Sean waited for an explanation, and after none came he asked, "So who gets a vote?"
"Only those who have demonstrated intellect. It's... complicated," she said. "Don't I get a question now?"
"Go for it," Alice said.
"Why are all of you here?"
"Gresson said I can help somehow. With Project Blackout," Michael answered.
"No, I know that. But why are the rest of you here?"
The group looked around at each other. They had no good answer. Personal reasons had gotten them started, but over the course of their journey they had simply become followers in a mad quest to save the world, or perhaps to merely survive it.
"I suppose none of us had anywhere else to go," Lash said. "And, until recently, we thought you guys were going to have a plan to stop those bastards from killing everyone."
"Well, whatever the case, Alex believes in you all. And, maybe I do too. But, among those in New Salvador, we're probably alone in having that opinion. My advice? Find a purpose to be here if you want to help, otherwise, I don't think you'll be staying for long." Jen stood up. "Now I need some sleep. You should get some too. Looks like you already have what you need, so feel free to set up here on the couches or in the spare room in the back. There are two beds there already. We'll talk more tomorrow." She walked out of the living room, to her bedroom, and shut the door.
"Why do I feel like I know even less, now that we're here?" Sean asked.
"Tell me about it," Jake said.
"Let's just get some sleep. Hopefully we'll get more answers tomorrow," Michael said. They proceeded to prepare their bedding.
They were all asleep when Gresson returned home. He quietly slipped to the bedroom and collapsed in bed next to Jen.
"What did Marc
us want?" Jen asked.
"Just to see Project Blackout. Told him he can deal with it all tomorrow when Michael joins him."
"Hey, I saw you have a scar under your right eye. Your friends say it happened around the time of the Arrival. I instantly thought 'implants.' What happened?" Jen asked with concern, as she followed the scar with her finger.
Gresson shook his head. "It's not what you think. That damn face image projector Marcus gave me shorted out from the rain. The spark got me pretty good."
"Oh, okay," Jen said with a sigh of relief. "No one else's implants have acted up so far." She ran her fingers through her husband's hair. "I missed you. It was hard, you being gone for so long. I started getting worried."
"I know," Gresson agreed. "Jen, did we do the right thing? These last few weeks have been... eye-opening."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. I just... What's the point now? Even if we find a way to stop them, there's not much of this world left. Now I'm wondering if we should stop them. We might be better off..."
"Stop. I haven't seen you in almost a month. We are not spending the night talking." Jen pressed her lips against Gresson's. Gresson hesitated, but soon allowed himself to forget his worry and pulled his wife close.
Chapter 34
New Salvador - August 27, 2072
A knock came from the front door late the next morning. Everyone was scattered in the living room and kitchen, finishing a breakfast that Michael and Alice had volunteered to make. Despite the luxury of the home, complete with running water, the pantry was almost entirely composed of military rations. They managed to find bacon and canned fruit, all of which were novel tastes for the group, compared to the typical meals of the previous weeks.
The door opened and Adron stepped inside. After looking around Adron groaned, "Well, I see you have all made yourselves quite comfortable already. How wonderful."
"What do you need, Adron?" Gresson asked.
"I need Michael. It's time we get this done," he replied.
Michael put down his plate and walked over. "And I think it's time I found out what's going on."
"We're only going to tell you what you need to know. Now, come on," Adron said.
Gresson turned to his wife. "While we're gone, make sure you get someone to look over Alice's injury." Jen nodded and Alice thanked him.
Gresson, Michael, and Adron stepped outside where the sun was shining bright and only a light breeze offered mercy from the heat. They walked across the courtyard, which was busy with others going about their own business. On the opposite side of New Salvador they reached a small building in the corner of the outer wall. Adron pulled open the door and the three of them stepped inside.
The room was small and dark, lit only by a small lantern hanging from the ceiling. Along the walls were empty metal shelves and several barrels. For looking so abandoned, the room was surprisingly neat and tidy. There was not even any dust, as far as Michael could see.
"What are we doing here?" he asked.
Neither of the others responded. Adron walked to the far side of the room and slapped one of the shelves. A mechanical whirring sound came from the wall. Michael stepped forward to try and see what Adron had done, but Gresson pulled him back. At that moment, the steel floor opened, revealing a stairway.
Before Michael could ask how something like this could still exist, Gresson explained, "It doesn't use anything electronic."
The three of them proceeded down the long staircase and Michael's eye's widened when they reached the bottom, nearly 100 feet below the ground. They were now standing at the intersection of several large hallways, together forming a large bunker under New Salvador. What had drawn Michael's attention, however, was the area now directly in front of them, an area where several hundred people stood waiting.
"What... what is this?" Michael stuttered. He had initially been taken aback by the size of the place that he had failed to notice what was most shocking of all. Holographic displays were scattered around the edges of the room. Working displays. The men and women that stood by them, who were now eyeing the visitors, wore headsets. After this, Michael noticed one final surprise. Faint music was playing. Echoing along the walls were the beginning notes of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.
As they walked into the massive underground room, Gresson said, "Welcome to the Shelter."
"The Shelter?" Michael asked. He was still finding his surroundings difficult to comprehend.
"Yes. You were worried the other day that everything was lost due to the frequency. I think you deserve to know, not everything is lost." Gresson pointed toward the many computers that surrounded them.
"How is this possible?"
"Do you remember when Colonel Valdez said the frequency had a maximum height?" Gresson asked.
"It has a maximum depth," Michael realized.
"Correct."
"Enough of this. Let's do what we came down here to do," Adron ordered.
They passed through the giant room and entered an adjacent one. Inside was a series of computer panels and a massive collection of circuitry that surrounded a metal cylinder. It reached from the floor to the ceiling. As they approached, Marcus turned around from one of the panels.
"So, you made it," he said. "Ready to see if we can get this to work?"
"It better work," Adron said.
"Michael can do it," Gresson replied.
"He better," Adron said, leaving the room.
"Sheesh. He is more of an ass every day," Marcus said.
"You'd think he was king," Gresson scoffed.
"Okay, Michael. Let's get started. Come on over here," Marcus said. He led Michael over to the opposite side of the metal cylinder. A piece of the metal had been removed and Michael could see the all too familiar technology inside. It contained unique pieces and patterns he had only seen in Project Blackout, the origin of which Michael never knew. He had wondered before what good Project Blackout would do, but he could already see identical inputs. Some how, Project Blackout must really be the missing piece of the puzzle for shutting this frequency down, he thought.
"Alrighty. So here's what we need you to do," Marcus began. He pulled over a table with Project Blackout lying on top of it and began to unload a hasty explanation. "We need more sustainable output. Power's not a problem, but like you probably saw with the older models of this..." Marcus tapped a hand on Project Blackout, "the equipment starts tearing itself apart after a long period of time. We originally weren't going to worry about it, but recent... 'developments' have made this a fatal flaw. Gresson says the previous model of this had fixed that problem. So... as long as this new, 'upgraded' model fixes the problem too, we're good. We just need you to replicate that function in this." He tapped the metal cylinder. "The stuff you worked on at Gimbal is based on our tech, so..."
Michael held up a hand. "Wait a minute. How is this supposed to..." He looked inside the cylinder once again. "Where is... Why..." He slowly began to comprehend the purpose of the massive machine in front of him. "What... the hell?" Michael jumped up and spun around to face Gresson, who swallowed nervously. The room fell silent as the others nearby looked over. "Tell me, Gresson. What is this? What exactly am I here to do?"
"Michael..." Gresson protested.
"Tell me!" Michael demanded.
"No one told him? You guys didn't think he would figure it out?" Marcus asked Gresson, bewildered. "Just because you don't understand it doesn't mean..."
"Shut up!" Michael snapped. "I want to hear it from you, Gresson. No more bullshit."
Gresson took a deep breath. "What are you asking, Michael?"
"Is this... the interference signal? The signal that caused the blackout? The signal that is still on?"
"Yes," Gresson replied.
Michael stood speechless for a moment. Finally he managed to say "You... you killed... millions of people. This thing may have brought about the end of the human race as we know it, yet you brought me here to keep it turned on?"
"Yes," Gresson repeated.
"Are you insane? What the hell is wrong with you people? Why the hell are you doing this?" Michael nearly screamed, his fists clenched, body shuddering, eyes flaring with fury.
"Because we had to," Gresson said somberly.
"Because you had to? Enough, Gresson. Tell me the truth! Is this all some kind of game for you and your little cult?"
"This is not a game and I am telling the truth! Listen to me, Michael..."
A sharp clang rang out from the metal cylinder, followed by a series of alarms coming from the computer panels in the room. The technicians in the room all switched their attention from the shouting match to their displays in search of the sound's source.
"What was that?" Marcus asked.
"It's what we were afraid of. Another capacitor blew," one of the technicians explained.
"And our coverage?" Marcus asked.
Another technician looking at a holographic model of the planet answered, "Everything looks alright, but it might just be a delay from the sensors. Wait a sec... Oh no."
"What?" Marcus questioned, fearing the worst.
"We just lost half the Indian Ocean."
"And it's growing. No coastlines yet, but..." another reported.
Marcus swore and ran over to Project Blackout.
"Can you fix this, Marcus?" Gresson asked.
"No. No, I can't. I looked at this stuff all night, Gresson. All the parts of Project Blackout might be there, but I have no idea what does what. It would take me days. I need Michael to tell me what..." Marcus said desperately.
"No way in hell," Michael replied, shaking his head.
"Michael, please," Gresson pleaded.
"I'm not helping you fix this genocide machine," Michael replied adamantly.
Gresson slowly pulled out his gun and held it at his side.
"Not falling for it this time, Gresson. Threaten all you want. I won't help you," Michael said.
Gresson raised his gun. He gritted his teeth and aimed it at Michael's head.
"I won't ask again, Michael."
Darkness on a Pale Blue Stone Page 18
