The Omega Point

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The Omega Point Page 21

by Whitley Strieber


  “One KIA,” he called out. “Driver. The other three are gone.” He pulled himself into the vehicle and commanded them to get moving.

  As they went on down the road the general found himself feeling kind of sick. There was something about the two guys who had gone up in that thing that he didn’t like. Not the fact that he’d lost men, although that was a pain, for sure, but the way they had looked as they ascended, like saints or some damn thing. That was it, a couple of beautiful young saints. He was a Christian and all that. Damn right, and screw the opposition. You weren’t with Jesus, you needed your heart cut out.

  But he didn’t like saints. You weren’t gonna win a war with damn saints in your army.

  He hit his driver on the shoulder. “What’s our ETA?”

  “We don’t have any holdups, three hours.”

  That would be well after dark, such as it was with that violet thing, if it came back.

  As the vehicle sped along, he found his mind going to his most recent wife, to Sally. Pretty, not beautiful, so why had he married her? Couldn’t tell her no, was the main reason.

  She went on and on, wanted this, wanted that. Expert in one thing: being disappointed.

  He just got so damn mad sometimes, and leave it to a woman to bring out the worst in you.

  So what happens when you’re isolated in a survival redoubt and you command the security force and you off your wife? They put her in the freezer is what happens, and good-bye.

  Too bad he hadn’t brought a bottle on this little frolic. He needed a bottle. He always needed a goddamn bottle. Essential carry, soldier, forget it again, just blow your own head off.

  One thing, the Acton Clinic meant maybe getting something that would get him out of this mess, and maybe the whole Blue Ridge group. Too late for the rest, probably. But the Seven Families were at Blue Ridge, plus the cream of America, so they were first in line, anyway.

  “Any response from Mack?”

  “No, Sir.”

  Never mind, they’d be there soon enough. If those bastards had offed Mack, though, there was going to be a slight change in plans. He would still kill them, of course, but slow. Damn slow.

  19

  STEALING PEOPLE

  Mack had thought that he would kidnap Caroline Light and possibly David Ford, but he had not anticipated that Caroline would start re-creating the portal as immediately as she had, or move nearly so fast. And he had not understood, until he saw them together, that they were so tender toward one another. Now, he would definitely take Ford. Torture is a reliable form of interrogation in only one instance: when you torture the lover and question the subject.

  Because of the attack, Mack was no longer locked down, and he had been able to slip out and watch her. He stood in the shadows on the stairway that led into the recreation area.

  Without knowing it, she had made this a race. Either her painting got finished and they used it—however that was to be done—or the townspeople invaded and gave Mack the chance he needed.

  Except for one thing. They would not use it because he was going to prevent it. He would destroy the painting again and this time he would kill her as well. Far better, though, if the deserving got the benefit of the thing.

  In the darkness across the room, hidden in the red shadows, Katie was also watching, and she felt every endearing touch between the lovers like a knife skewering her heart.

  As the new star had shone its baleful light through the high windows of the rec room, her jealousy had festered into hate, and then into the truth of her soul: the pathological, murderous rage that was her great hidden flaw.

  Katrina had a secret. She had killed. She had killed more than once. First, when she was a child, she had killed a boy called Jerry Flournoy. It had happened during a celebration bonfire at Camp Oscalana.

  They had just finished the musical, and parents and kids were sitting around in congratulatory mode. The show had been Annie, and Jerry Flournoy had directed and played Bert Healy, and he had been the one who had kept Katrina from being Annie.

  She had slid a brand out of the fire, and let it fall against the leg of his costume. She had not realized that it was made of rayon, and he had burned to death. Nobody thought it was anything but an accident, and he should have rolled, he should never have tried to run down to the lake, he should have known that. But she had done it and she had never regretted it, because his agony and his death had filled a hole in her heart. His fire had cooled her jealousy. She had forgotten his cries, his racing, leaping death in a shower of sparks and flailing limbs. But the odor that had hung over the camp she would never forget, the honey stench of vengeance.

  She had killed Jerry Flournoy and it had been a good thing to do, good for her soul, so when another cruel and hostile person—this one a man thief—had appeared in her life, she had killed her, too. She had backed over Patricia Dickerson while she was at the mailbox. What she remembered from that one was the crunch of the bones, and she enjoyed remembering it. Patty had taken her Tom. Her Tom. And this bitch Caroline, she had taken her David. Her David.

  An accidental fire. A hit-and-run. Now, a slashing in a clinic full of psychotics—she would get away with this one, too. Both of them, the bitch and the ungrateful bastard.

  For his part, Mack was quietly aware of her presence in the room, and watching her intently.

  It was four thirty in the morning. The star would set before the sun rose, and there would be a period of darkness then. Things like night-vision equipment were all fried, so if the town was going to strike, that would most likely be when they came.

  As he watched the drama unfolding below from the landing—the painting going on, the watcher preparing to strike—he began to hear sounds of movement from the patient area upstairs.

  Worse, Katrina apparently heard it, too, because she started going closer to Caroline and David. Mack needed them alive—for a time.

  Where in hell were those townies? God, if they didn’t come, this was going to be a mess.

  Katrina had gotten a knife from the kitchen, and if she could, she’d put it first in Caroline’s spleen, which was full of blood. Puncture it and you had a dead body on your hands almost as fast as with the heart, and the spleen was more vulnerable. As a nurse, she knew that stabbing somebody in the heart was more difficult than it appeared, because of the breastbone in front and the spine in back. The body protected its heart. Going for the spleen was easier and just as efficient.

  As she moved closer, she brushed the back of a chair. It made only the tiniest sound, but this was more than enough to make David turn around.

  As he did so, she dropped to the floor. He looked out across the room for some time. The light coming in the windows from the new star was a little brighter than moonlight, but not so much that you couldn’t hide in its shadows.

  David came toward her. There was something in his hand—a gun, she thought. But first he’d talk, he wasn’t going to shoot anybody except as a last resort, she didn’t think . . . which somehow made her hate him all the more.

  She could see his legs now. He’d paused just the other side of one of the bridge tables. All right, if he came around that table, she was going for him and hopefully she’d be fast enough to neutralize the gun.

  In the distance, there was a ripping sound. A machine gun on the perimeter, she thought.

  David heard it, too, and hurried back to Caroline and spoke softly to her, then sat down. His gun remained in his hand.

  Carefully—very carefully—Katrina worked her way out from under the table. Rising just enough to get them in view, she saw that the bastard had not been distracted by whatever was happening outside. He still stared out into the room.

  There was more machine gun fire, louder this time.

  Then Caroline’s voice rang out, “David! David, it’s done!”

  When he turned, Katie moved closer to them fast. He’d get his first, then her. She would rather have done her first and forced him to watch the bitch’s death agony, but he
had that gun.

  She came up behind them and raised the knife, staring down at his back, looking at the place she would put it in.

  As she started the thrust, something totally unexpected happened—it felt as if an iron cuff had gone around her wrist while at the same time a steel hand covered her mouth.

  For a moment, she was too stunned to react. Nobody else had been in here. Nobody. Her heart flopped and her blood howled in her head.

  A voice said, “Okay, David, drop the weapon, please.” She was astonished to recognize Mack the Cat. He’d come up on her in absolute silence, and surprised the watchful David, too.

  Mack saw that, once again, the painting looked like a window. In it, there were leaves moving on the trees, there was bright, normal moonlight, and the surface of a river could be seen shimmering in the distance. Except for one thing: the moon was different. More craters.

  David said, “Mack, let her go.”

  “David, she’s trouble.”

  All she could think about was bringing that knife down, and feeling the sliding resistance when it cut into him.

  Mack could still feel the tension in Katie’s body, so he wouldn’t release her. She must not hurt either of these people, or that thing—the portal.

  David took a step forward. “Mack, Katie is a good person, she’s no danger to you.”

  Mack laughed. Then David followed his eyes and he saw the knife still poised in Katie’s hand. When Mack increased the pressure on her wrist, Katie opened her fingers and it dropped to the floor with a clang.

  “Katie?” David asked.

  Mack uncovered her mouth and all of her rage and hate came spitting out in the form of one word, “Bastard!”

  Surprise tightened David’s face until the realization of why she was so enraged made his eyes go soft with regret.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to Katie.

  Caroline said, “Let’s get past this, because we have a miracle here.” She looked from Mack to Katie to David. “A miracle—look at it!”

  David said, “The others are waiting. We need to do this.”

  Unless he acted quickly and correctly right now, Mack understood that he was going to lose his chance forever. Before, he’d had no choice but to destroy the portal. He had not been ready, and they would have used it before he could get it away from them, and that must not be allowed to happen. If the right people didn’t get the portal, nobody was going to get it.

  But now they’d played into his hands by reconstructing it just as all hell broke loose around them. So now he could use the danger that was unfolding here to take the portal and the two of them off the clinic grounds and into some more private place. There, he would force them to teach him how to use it, and then he would slash their throats. Should he fail, he would kill them both and take the portal and just hope that somebody at the redoubt could figure out how to use it.

  Reaching forward, he disarmed David, corkscrewing the gun out of his hand.

  “Jesus, Mack!”

  “Doc, please forgive me, but you have no idea how to use that, so let me do this.” He said to Katie, “I’m gonna explain something to you. You need to do what I say. You need to help us and save your anger for later. When this is all over, beat the shit out of him, cut him, whatever you want. But not now.”

  “He made a promise he didn’t keep!”

  David tried to reach her.

  “It was just a night between us, Katie. A night together and it was lovely, but it wasn’t love, and I think you know that.”

  Mack thought she might just leap on David and rip his throat out with her teeth.

  “Katie,” he said, “if you don’t comply, I will kill you. I’m sorry, but you have no choice.”

  She nodded. In the distance, there was a faint pop, followed immediately by the sound of many high-velocity machine guns.

  “Do you know how to shoot at all, Caroline?”

  She shook her head. He didn’t need to ask David. The way he’d handled the pistol so far told him all he needed to know.

  “I know how to shoot very well,” Katie said.

  He gave her the pistol and produced his own.

  David said, “Is that wise?”

  “She’s what we have, Doc.”

  “But she’ll—she’s liable to—”

  Now came the chugging of a more primitive machine gun, but it was louder. There were screams, followed by a general outburst of firing.

  “We need all the firepower we can get, David.” Then, to Katie, “Don’t even think about revenge right now.” He thrust his gun into the small of her back. “Don’t try me on.”

  “I’ll be okay,” Katie said. “I’ll swallow it for now . . . what he did to me.”

  Mack gestured with his own pistol. “Let’s get moving.”

  David hesitated, started to talk—and Mack shoved him, but gently.

  “Let me protect you,” he said. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Security!” David shouted.

  “They’re busy, David. And we have to save this thing right now.”

  “Let’s get it upstairs,” David said, which was not what Mack wanted to hear. He had to play this very, very carefully. They didn’t trust him, and that must not be forgotten for a moment.

  “David, what if security fails?” he asked.

  “They won’t fail! Glen will keep us safe.”

  “IF, David!”

  “He’s right, David,” Caroline said. “We can’t risk the portal.”

  “We need to get it away from the clinic,” Mack said, allowing his very real sense of urgency to enter his voice.

  “But—it has to be here. It has to be where the people are!”

  “When it’s safe, we’ll bring it back.”

  “But the class—you’re saying the class could be killed. That must not happen!”

  “David, all we can protect is the portal. We just have to hope for the best.”

  “Look, you know about firefights and such, I’m sure. Help me make my decision. Tell me what you think is happening out there?”

  At last, a little trust. Mack moved to exploit it.

  “Doc, I hate to tell you this, but it sounds to me like whoever’s out there is moving closer to the house, which means that your security men are being defeated. The whole town is probably out there, and they are going to rip this place to shreds, and if you want to live and you want that portal to stay intact, you need to come with me right now.”

  “David, he’s right,” Caroline said.

  “Cover us,” Mack told Katie, “then follow us out the back.” He had the portal. He had its designers. This operation was finally polishing up very nicely. The general was going to be pleased.

  He gave David a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “Let’s roll, Doc.”

  20

  THE DESTRUCTION OF THE ACTON CLINIC

  Just as Mack was ready to move them out, the gunfire rose to a chilling thunder. People began running downstairs, calling to David for leadership.

  David went to the nearest one, Susan Denman.

  “Get the class back upstairs.” He looked past her to Aaron Stein and the others. “We’re taking the portal to safety. We’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  His words were swallowed by the cascading shatter of glass as rifle butts were used to smash the windows.

  The sound caused the whole crowd to turn around and then to erupt into panic as men—strangers, not security personnel—began coming in through the debris. People ran everywhere, overturning tables and chairs, dashing for the doors, for the stairs.

  “We need to move,” Mack urged.

  Bill Osterman appeared, greasy and exhausted, from the machinery room. “I’m the plant supervisor,” he shouted to the armed men, women, and children. “I know what you want! I can show you everything.”

  A man walked up to him, raised a pistol, and fired it into his face. He rocketed back across the room, a flailing shadow in the blue-pink flash.

  “Drop
to the floor,” Mack said to David and Caroline. “Katie, get that damn thing off the easel and bring it with us.”

  Katie looked at it. “Is it . . . liftable?”

  “Just do it!”

  More shots filled the room and people slammed against walls, flying into pieces as they did so. Modern high-velocity expanding rounds don’t just injure people, they tear bodies apart.

  Patients and staff scattered, running for the doors on both ends of the room. Mack noticed that the class—so very disciplined—had followed David’s instructions and returned in a group to the temporary safety of the upper floor.

  “Go out the back,” he told Caroline and David. “It’s our only chance!”

  He had them now, he sure as hell did.

  But David hesitated, so Mack gave him a slap to the side of the head—not hard, but hard enough to startle him.

  “Sorry, Doc, but get moving! Right now!”

  They scrambled toward the back doors.

  Once they were outside, Mack told them, “We need to find a vehicle that works, otherwise we die here, now.”

  “We can’t leave. We can’t abandon the mission!”

  “David, I’m on your side, so you listen to me. If you die, you abandon your mission. If you live, you still have a chance to come back here when it’s safe and complete it. So do this!”

  That seemed to reach him, and he began to follow Mack, and Caroline followed him. In the rear, Katie did a sort of guard action, not that Mack thought for a moment that she would be particularly effective.

  Out in the grounds, dawn was just breaking across a running firefight between the security guards in their camouflage and the townspeople. The locals had some decent weapons now, too, not just deer rifles and shotguns. He heard the rasping whisper of an Uzi and saw one of the security guys turn to red haze.

  “There’s a lot of ordnance flying around,” Mack said, “heads down.”

  Behind them, glass shattered upstairs and the body of Claire Michaels hit the ground, bounced once in a bed of blooming flowers, and was still.

  “Claire!” David howled, rushing to her.

  Mack grabbed him. “She’s past help, but you’re not. If I have to knock you cold and drag you, I’m saving you, Doc. You gotta understand that.”

 

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