Cracking open the first page should have been enough. There was the glorious symbol of this region’s highest office: the Seal of the President of the United States. It was the same symbol he’d seen on the floor inside the White House. It had also been on the side of the giant blue flyer at the military base.
In the oval center was an eagle holding an olive branch in one talon and arrows in the other. Two symbols that under the right condition might look like stars shooting from the clouds. Around the top were the words, “PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.” Central among that first word were four letters Robinson had come to know very well.
P-RESI-DENT
It should have been enough, but he still needed one more thing to convince him it was true. It was in the back, listed on an old map detailing the White House after it had partially burnt down. The coordinates had been recorded. 38° 53' N / 77° 2' W
3853772
Robinson was running before the book hit the floor.
He should have seen it long before. He had awoken to Resi licking his face on the steps of the White House. He’d met him there because he had just been released from the inside. His mind went back to the cameras and how he’d felt like they’d been watching him. All this time and she’d been right under his nose. Only then did he remember the booby trap that had knocked him out. At the time he thought its construction felt familiar. Now he knew why. His mother had built it. It was a gift he had seen in many permutations at home. It was from her that his love of tinkering had sprung.
The building loomed dark and foreboding when he entered through the side door. He immediately pulled out his torch and turned it on. Blackened blood stained the floor where the savages had fallen months before. The smell of the tentacled render still permeated above all.
Robinson moved through the hallway more cautiously than before, noticing more cameras in the daylight, many already pointing toward him. The oval office was empty, but it was the camera there that he chose to address.
“If it really is you,” he said into the eyeless void, “I need your help. Tell me where to go.”
For a moment, nothing happened. And then the camera spun right. He gripped his tomahawks and headed in that direction.
He let the camera’s movements dictate his path. They led him down the hall, through a doorway, and into a grand ballroom where upturned furniture laid in pieces. A grand chandelier that had once lit the room sat shattered in the corner. How beautifully it must have shone, hanging above a room full of elegant, well-dressed people as they danced.
A third camera was centered above a staircase, but when Robinson stopped in front of it, it swiveled from side to side.
“I don’t understand. Did I come the wrong way?”
The camera swiveled more frantically.
“Am I … am I in danger?”
The camera stopped and its red light blinked once. Robinson spun, but there was nothing behind him. Then he felt the air move. It was subtle and he might not have noticed had the hair on his arms not stirred. It felt like an exhalation.
To his right, the elevator doors had been ripped apart from within. The grip on his tomahawk was slick with sweat, but he held it firmly as he moved forward. The torch exposed the innards of the shaft. It was dark with several cables extending from the roof and into the abyss.
He had seen tentacles explode from the third floor entranceway to assault the savages. He knew whatever was buried there had significant speed. But he also knew time was running out and there was no turning back.
As he stepped toward the shaft he heard a sound like the tinkling of glass. He should have recognized it immediately, but even by then it would have been too late. For Robinson, the realization came when something hot and sticky dripped onto the back of his neck. He slowly looked up and screamed.
Chapter Forty-Four
The Watcher at the Gate
It was suspended from another chandelier above him—a mutation several parts man and Crown knew what else. It had multiple torsos and faces, and mouths that howled in unison. It had numerous arms that transformed into tentacles. They shot out and grabbed Robinson, pulling him off his feet. The discharge that seeped from the creature burned his skin, but as it drew him up, he knew that was the least of his worries.
A loud crack emanated from the middle of the beast as one of its torso split open, revealing a giant rictus full of bloody teeth. As its diseased tongue extended to haul him in, Robinson yanked his arm back and threw his tomahawk at the only place he could.
The blade hit the mooring of the chandelier and the entire thing jolted but didn’t come loose. To prevent itself from falling, the creature was forced to release him. Robinson hit the ground hard and his torch bounced out of his hands. The creature roared, its tentacles slithering downward. He rolled and reached for his second tomahawk. Unfortunately, the handle had snapped in two when he’d fallen and was now useless. Robinson groped for his only other weapon, the sling, but the second he twirled it, he thought how pathetic it was that after searching for his mother for nearly a year, he was about to die mere feet away from her as she watched.
He heard the tinkle of the chandelier, followed by the sound of the creature settling onto the floor. It slithered in the darkness. Robinson knew he had little chance of felling the creature with a stone. Even if he could strike it in the eye like he had the Alpha, it had a dozen more. He cursed himself for not asking Saah for one of the ancient weapons, but Robinson knew he would have never given it to him anyway.
When the sound of the creature’s movements pierced the dark, Robinson yelled and released a stone in its direction. The stone did not strike flesh, but whatever it hit shattered and the beast stopped. It clearly understood Robinson could hurt it, even if he couldn’t kill it.
A hiss of movement came again, this time lighter. Only when a long, skinny tentacle entered the cone of the torch’s light did Robinson realize it was headed for the elevator shaft. A second later, it dragged something from the shaft. It was the half-eaten body of a render suspended on a makeshift hook.
When it pulled the cadaver in, Robinson had no idea what it intended to do. He heard the crunch of bone and flesh and a sound like chewing. When it finished, the creature retched several times and that fetid stench hit him like a wave of acid and death as it spit up the regurgitated meat.
Silence followed. Then out of nowhere, a projectile hit his leg just above the knee.
The strike wasn’t enough to knock him off his feet, but when the masticated flesh started to sizzle and smoke, he knew he had to get it off.
Robinson used an old candlestick to knock it away, but he could already feel the acid cutting through his trousers. He was reaching for the water in his pack when he heard the second projectile coming. He dove just in time to avoid it striking his face. It splattered against the wall behind him and started eating through the plaster. The stone from his sling rolled across the floor and several globs shot after it.
One fact struck Robinson. The creature was having trouble seeing him too. It lived in almost perpetual darkness, but the flashlight was angled in its direction. When it took another bite of its victim for ammunition, Robinson picked up an errant piece of debris and chucked it across the room. It landed with a crash and the creature slithered in that direction, firing off globular blasts that sizzled and popped as they hit.
Robinson ran in the opposite direction, shielding himself from the regurgitated projectiles he knew would come as soon as the creature realized it’d been duped.
If the creature hated light, he would give it plenty. As the thump, thump, thump of steaming masses hit the wall behind him, Robinson slid and tore the first of three curtains off the large Palladian windows. Half a dozen mouths roared simultaneously as light exploded in. Tentacles spun in pandemonium, trying to cover its multitude of eyes. Robinson stood and tried to kick out one of the windows, but the glass didn’t even crack. Even when a glob of acidic flesh hit it flush, the vile substance merely slid off with a w
isp of smoke.
The only weapon in the room now sat against the far wall, but the second Robinson leaned in its direction, the creature slithered back to cut him off. With his escape route blocked, that tomahawk was his only chance. Trouble was, the creature knew it too.
Robinson tore the remaining two curtains down, flooding the room with light, but the beast just drew back into the shadowed alcove. One of the long tentacles shot out and tore off half of the render’s corpse and swallowed it whole. It spit out the masticated chunk and it ate at the floor, but the tentacles were quick to tear off more portions and heave them in Robinson’s direction.
As he dodged the salvos, he reached into his bag and counted the rocks he had left. Four. Not nearly enough. He blinked twice, hoping at the very least he might be able to find some vulnerable spot to blind or stun it so he could run past.
The first rock hit the creature flush, but it only seemed to anger it. As the globs came faster, one of them struck Robinson’s boot and he was forced to shed it before it ate through it. His second rock struck one of the creature’s massive legs. Although the beast howled, it failed to go down.
Robinson dipped behind a standing column and loaded up his second to last rock. When he started spinning the sling, the creature covered its vital areas and the rock skittered harmlessly away.
The idea suddenly struck Robinson that the beast might have one vulnerable spot after all and he quickly loaded his final rock into the sling. He waited until the creature spit out his next acidic missile and let loose. The shot was perfect, striking the back of the creature’s throat, and it roared. Its tentacles flailed wildly, lashing against the walls, tearing down pictures, and hitting the chandelier above.
The chandelier quivered and came further loose from its moorings, but didn’t fall. Robinson’s gaze fell to the one rock that had skirted out of his sling earlier and was now a dozen paces away on the floor. The creature’s paroxysm was subsiding, its focus and rage returning wholly on its target. When it charged, Robinson would have nothing left with which to defend himself. So he tucked his head and ran as fast as he could. The creature’s roar filled the room. It stamped the ground with such fury that the walls shook. Tentacles reached into its mouth and pulled out a dozen deadly chunks, firing every one of them off at the same time. Robinson heard the sizzle and hiss as they flew at him. When one struck his shoulder, he fell to his knees and slid. His hand locked onto the rock, dropping it into the pouch in one smooth motion. He only had time for a single revolution, but as he released it, he knew his aim was true.
The rock struck the base of the chandelier with a metal clang and the moorings pulled loose. Six heads and a dozen eyes looked up at once, widening as the giant fixture fell and crushed it with a deafening clatter. Six small mouths and one giant one wailed in unison and then ceased as the tentacles fell one by one and moved no more.
Robinson’s shoulder burned and he quickly tore off his jacket. He rushed across the room and grabbed his pack. He opened his water skin and poured the last of the water over his wounds. He collapsed on the ground, unsure how he was still alive.
Eventually he stood and gathered his things before crossing the room and looking over the beast. It was even more hideous up close.
Utterly spent, Robinson looked up at the camera as if to ask “what next.” And then he heard a chime. He turned and saw a small light next to the elevator blinking on and off. Somewhere in the bowels of the building, machinery started up and the top of the elevator rose out of the darkness. Robinson stepped inside when it drew even with the floor. Several buttons lined a control panel, but before he could even push one, the elevator started descending.
Chapter Forty-Five
Reunion
The elevator jolted to a stop and the doors parted sluggishly. On the wall opposite Robinson was half of the Seal of the President of the United States. The other half sat in pieces on the ground. An occasional light illuminated the hallway, but to his surprise, it revealed little dust. Even the smell from the elevator shaft hadn’t permeated the seal. If this were a tomb, it was the most comfortable one he had ever seen.
As he walked the hall, he perused the framed prints that adorned the walls. All revealed suited men in various poses of public duty. Family or citizens often surrounded them, although one picture revealed a man playing with a dog on the lawn outside. Here and there were photos of a chief looking stern in the face of some crisis. Robinson would never know the history behind any of them.
He came to a set of glass doors, etched with the familiar seal. Inside was a large table with technology in the background, but at some point, part of the ceiling had collapsed and debris lain strewn across the floor. In the far back was a chair and what looked like a suited set of bones canted to one side.
Robinson’s footsteps echoed in the hall, competing only with the whir of an air filtration unit that blew from above and the occasional camera that spun to mark his passage.
Robinson passed a kitchen that had been cleaned out long ago. The cabinets were open, some torn off their hinges, and dishes and plates were scattered across the floor.
He came to a door that had been kicked in. Inside were a number of sleeping bays built into the walls. Many of the bays had been torn out and two of them were dark with dried blood.
Farther down the hall was a bathroom complete with showers. Opposite it was a door marked: POWER SUPPLY ROOM: ENTRY PROHIBITED. It bore the symbol that Robinson recognized as meaning nuclear power. It was clear to him now how this place had remained operational after two hundred years.
At the end of the final hallway was a giant, ovoid, steel door. It looked indestructible. Here again was the Presidential seal, but someone had scratched it off. To the right was a control panel; its plating had been pried open and its wiring spilled out like the bowels of the dead.
The camera above the door edged slowly down to him, its eye pulsing from red to dark. He could only think of one thing to say.
“I’m here.”
A few seconds later, Robinson heard the sound of clicks and whirs. The door opened and a hiss of cool, purified air escaped.
The inside chamber was modest in size. The only illumination stemmed from a wall of monitors on Robinson’s left, half of which no longer worked. The ones that did revealed a few interior and exterior locations. To his right was a table full of lab equipment. A larger monitor sat on the end of the table, but instead of images, it showed streaming lines of text and mathematical calculations.
Robinson stepped in for a closer look.
“It is called a computer,” said a husky but feminine voice from behind him. He turned to see her silhouette in the shadows.
“The ancients used them to make calculations and to store data. They have almost limitless capabilities, but they are missing one critical ingredient—humanity. How could they put so much control in the hands of something so incapable of empathy?”
Robinson stepped toward her and the figure raised a hand. “No. Not yet,” she said softly.
“Mother?”
He had to ask because he did not recognize her voice.
“You have been through quite an ordeal. When you first arrived all those months ago, I did not think you would live out the week. You were so timid, so frightened. But look at you now. You’ve become a man.”
“Are you her?”
“I was especially pleased when you found Zeus.”
“Zeus?” Robinson repeated.
“The Greek father of gods and men, and the protector of cities and of the powerless.”
“Oh, Resi. That’s what I called him.”
“Is he with you still?”
His gaze fell to the floor. “No, he … No.”
“I see.”
“Was he yours? Are you the one who sent him to me?”
“Zeus belonged to no one. He was a survivor like you and me. But we cared for each other for a time. That first day you arrived, I knew your need for companionship was greater than mine, s
o I let him go. He was safer outside anyway.”
“Safer from what? The creature in the shaft?”
“That and more.”
Robinson took a step toward her, but the figure pulled back again.
“Why won’t you let me see you? Are you my mother? Your voice sounds different, but it feels like you.”
“You have already been through so much. But if we must.”
The figure stepped into the light and Robinson recoiled.
“You’re a render!”
It was true. Her body and head were covered with a mass of tumors and boils. She had growths on her hands and on her neck, but she still had his mother’s face and her compassionate smile.
“I am infected,” she said. “That much is true. But my mind is unchanged, at least for a short while longer.”
“I don’t understand. If you were bitten, you should have mutated.”
“No creature infected me. As you might have deduced, I have been alone inside this room for well over a year now.”
“Then how …” he stammered, but then his gaze fell on the lab equipment, the beakers and tubes, and the data streaming across the screen.
“Oh, Mother.”
“I have come close to a cure many times. But with no way to test it … Well, sometimes one has to make—”
“A leap of faith.”
“Yes. But enough sad talk. Tell me about Vardan Saah. I see he’s returned.”
“He’s after something called the FENIX. Do you know what that is?”
“Yes. It is a satellite-based dispersal system from which one can release genetically modified spores into the upper atmosphere. The ancients had hoped that if they could find a cure, they could code it into the machine and with one final swoop, eradicate the disease forever. Unfortunately, they failed to discover the cure in time.”
“Why would he want the cure?”
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