The news helicopter circled around, pointing its high altitude camera at the massive dome, which was now moving away from the cement plant, traveling south. It engulfed all six lanes of the Interstate. Bruno’s dark sedan slid sideways, careening out of control. It left a trail of smoke and skid marks before its inertia carried it into the northern edge of the energy field.
The helicopter flew over the dome, allowing the camera to capture Bruno’s sedan whipping around. The sedan was shredded into chunks of metal, glass, rubber and plastic car debris and sucked through the vortex.
“And then there were ten,” Lucas mumbled, thinking of his security friend.
The helicopter swung around to show Alvarez’s convoy approaching at high speed from the north, while the energy field continued its southerly trek toward the Green Valley retirement community.
“Do you think they bought it?” Drew asked.
“We’ll know soon enough,” Kleezebee said.
TWENTY-TWO
“Are you two ready for a road trip?” Kleezebee asked Lucas and Drew.
“More than ready, Professor,” Drew answered, sliding the theory notebook into the zippered pouch of his knapsack. “But we need to check on Mom before we leave.”
“I thought you might want to do that,” he said to Drew. “Inform the security team we’ll be up in ten. Make sure they bring the climbing gear,” he told all the techs.
Lucas turned and asked Kleezebee, “Have you figured out how we’re going to get past the soldiers guarding the hole down to the QED lab?”
Kleezebee stared at the video screens for a few seconds, then turned to face his lead tech. “Twins ought to do it.”
The tech picked up one of the three phones sitting on his console desk. “Who do you want me to send?”
“Seven and Eight. But make it clear I want them to use stunners only.”
“Got it, boss,” the tech replied with the phone’s receiver plastered against his right ear.
“Twins?” Lucas asked.
Kleezebee smiled. “A pair of young, beautiful women should be hard to resist, wouldn’t you agree?”
Lucas figured Kleezebee was going to use the twins as some form of distraction, but he wasn’t sure how. Kleezebee’s matter-of-fact tone gave him the impression that the professor expected him to put the pieces together on his own, and he certainly didn’t want to disappoint his boss. “Great idea, Professor. Using twins sounds perfect.”
Kleezebee opened a yellow travel bag sitting on an unoccupied section of the video control desk. “Did you remember the boosters?” Kleezebee asked the tech.
“Yes, sir. They’re in there.”
“Excellent.” Kleezebee flung the tote bag over his shoulder. “We should pick up some bottled water on the way up.”
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, Lucas got out of the Humvee and followed behind Kleezebee as the man inched his way along the outside of the Math Building toward its southwest corner. Kleezebee gave his crutches to Lucas, then pressed his back against the red-bricked wall of the structure. He peeked carefully around the corner. Ten seconds later, he turned and whispered to Lucas, “Seven and Eight are pulling up now. Let’s hope this works.”
Lucas looked back at Drew, who was sitting in the rear passenger seat of the truck they’d used to travel to campus from the silo. One of Kleezebee’s armed security guards was standing near the Humvee’s bumper-mounted winch, looking directly at Lucas. He was starting to lose track of who was authentic and who was a replica, with multiple copies of nearly everyone in Kleezebee’s crew running around. Lucas was fairly certain the guard was a replica, but couldn’t be sure. The silo’s senior lab tech—who definitely was a replica, because he’d introduced himself as one—was sitting in the driver’s seat with his hands wrapped around the steering wheel. Lucas gave his brother and the other two men a thumbs-up signal.
Lucas crouched behind the professor and leaned slowly to his left. He could see four soldiers in combat uniforms only a few hundred feet away from him. They were clustered together just to the left of the open shaft leading down to the underground NASA bunker. One of the soldiers was doing all the talking. He paused for a moment, and then suddenly the entire squad erupted into a collective laugh.
Figures, Lucas thought. Leave it to the military to waste resources guarding an open pit, especially when the rest of campus and most of Tucson had been deserted. If he were in charge, he would’ve boarded up the hole and called it a day.
A blue mini-van with a heavily tinted rear window squealed around the corner and approached the soldiers from the west. Country music blared from its wide open side windows, and two blond-haired women sat in the front seat. The vehicle swerved across the center stripe and came to a skidding stop with the front wheels on the sidewalk about fifty feet from the soldiers’ position. Lucas could see strands of blond locks flapping across the girls’ faces as the stiff, southerly breeze riffled through the van.
The two girls—exact copies of Kleezebee’s beautiful assistant, Mary Stinger—stumbled out of the van, laughing and whooping. They wore faded blue jean cutoff shorts and skin-tight white tops that accentuated their identical figures. A moment later, they leaned against the hood of the van and giggled loudly, passing a bottle of alcohol between them.
Kleezebee winked at Lucas. “Wild Turkey. Bruno’s favorite.”
The four soldiers, now standing side-by-side and facing the girls, looked like they’d been struck dumb. None of them moved or said anything. They stood there like horny statues, staring at the twins with their mouths drooling.
Lucas realized Kleezebee was right. A pair of twins would be a major distraction—especially a pair of hot, drunk twins dressed like Hooter’s girls. The squad of testosterone-charged soldiers didn’t stand a chance.
“At least I’m not the only one to fall for that one,” Lucas mumbled under his breath, thinking about Bruno’s sexy alter ego who he’d been lusting after during his stint on Kleezebee’s team.
The driver, Mary1, leaned her butt against the driver’s door and waved at the soldiers. “Heya, boys,” she called out. “You guys wanna party?”
All four soldiers remained silent, puffing their chests out and smiling.
Mary1 remained by the vehicle while Mary2 walked erratically toward the men, swinging her hips almost as wildly as her arms. Halfway into her journey, her ankle rolled over and she fell to the ground, laughing like a drunk college coed.
All of the soldiers slung their rifles and left their guard position, sprinting to her rescue. They encircled the girl, showering her with attention.
“Works every time,” Kleezebee whispered to Lucas. “Damsel in distress.”
“Sexy ones at that,” Lucas added.
While the men were focused on her sister, Mary1 reached into the driver’s seat, pulled out a stunner, then snuck up to the solders caring for Mary2. She fired the weapon several times, striking each of the men in succession, sending them limp to the ground. One of the blasts hit Mary2, but she seemed unaffected. Lucas figured BioTex replicas were immune to electrocution, probably due to their latex substructure.
Mary1 turned back to face Kleezebee and let out a shrieking whistle with two fingers inserted into the corners of her mouth.
“There’s our cue,” Kleezebee said, grabbing his crutches from Lucas. “Why don’t you go see if Seven and Eight need any help getting the soldiers into the van? Then we’ll head down below and see what’s what.”
Lucas watched the drunken killer twins morph from a pair of Marys into a pair of Brunos. He knew they were just BioTex replicas, but he was still sad to see them go.
Hot was hot—synthetic or not.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Lucas unclipped the rigging harness from his chest, after being lowered by rope into the open pit that used to be NASA’s elevator shaft. The shaft was musty and dark, already starting to smell like mold. He heard the drip-drip-drip of water echoing from below, and hoped a sewag
e line hadn’t broken somewhere. He didn’t like the idea of trudging through raw wastewater.
Billy Ray, the lab tech who’d preceded him into the shaft, took hold of the harness and rope after Lucas slid out of the gear.
Lucas looked up from Sublevel 18 and through a swirling column of dust particles. He gave Kleezebee a thumbs-up signal. “All clear,” he shouted at the professor. Soon he heard the motorized grind of the bumper-mounted electric winch hoisting the gear back to the surface.
Now it was Drew’s turn. First, his folded wheelchair came down the shaft, followed by Drew, who was carrying the professor’s crutches and yellow travel bag. Lucas gave Kleezebee’s items to Billy Ray, then helped Drew into the wheelchair.
After the harness made the steady climb back to the surface, Kleezebee slipped on the gear next and started his descent. Lucas decided to take a step back to allow more room for the professor to land, but his heel caught the edge of a cement chunk behind him. He grabbed onto Drew’s shoulder to keep from falling backward into the debris.
“Shit, that was close,” Lucas said, flexing his ankle to check its condition. “They could’ve done a better job with the cleanup down here.” He felt fortunate, though, not to have injured himself more seriously. It was slightly tender, but the pain was manageable.
He still needed to carry Drew down the stairs to the 20th Sublevel, which would be impossible with any kind of serious ankle injury. His legs were still recovering from carrying Drew up those same stairs, and the last thing he needed was a bum ankle—or any other physical problem, for that matter. With the hospitals evacuated, he wouldn’t be able to run to the emergency room for medical attention.
Everything in the world had changed thanks to the energy domes wreaking havoc across the planet. At least that was the situation for now, assuming he and Drew would be able to set things right with a little assistance from the professor and his team.
“How’s your leg doing?” Lucas asked Drew after seeing a bloodstain on the stairway. He assumed the redness was from the gash in Drew’s thigh—the injury he’d received while sliding down the debris pile during their escape.
“I don’t know. Can’t feel a thing.”
“That’s good. I guess,” Lucas said. “But we need to clean and redress your bandage when we get back to the silo. Now that the hospitals are closed, we can’t take the chance it gets infected.”
Drew nodded and wrinkled his nose, but didn’t respond.
Lucas unclipped Kleezebee’s safety harness once the professor’s feet were firmly planted on the stairwell’s landing. Drew handed the crutches to Kleezebee, which the professor promptly handed to Lucas. “You’ll need to carry these down for me.”
Lucas groaned silently, realizing he and Billy Ray were the only able-bodied men present. They’d have to do all the heavy work from here on out, meaning he needed to prepare himself and suck it up. His friends needed his help, and so did the rest of the world.
“Sure, Professor, not a problem,” he said, holding the crutches aside while Drew climbed on his back, piggyback-style. Drew had the knapsack strapped to his back, which contained several bottles of water, plus the theory notebook and a smattering of writing supplies.
Kleezebee picked up his yellow tote bag and put his arms through the two straps, hoisting it across his back. At least Lucas didn’t have to carry the sack, too. Any more weight and he’d never make it down in once piece.
When Billy Ray started down the stairs empty-handed, Lucas said, “Dude, can you help me out here?” Lucas pointed to Drew’s wheelchair, which was leaning against the cement wall.
“Oops, sorry about that,” Billy Ray answered. “My mind’s focused elsewhere.”
“No problem.”
Lucas stood still and waited for Kleezebee to head down first, holding onto the handrail as he hobbled his way down each step. Unless the professor was in better shape than he looked, Lucas knew the journey was going to be slow and painful for everyone, and he was right—it took just short of an hour to reach the landing on Sublevel 20.
Kleezebee unhitched the yellow bag and sat down on the bottom step when they arrived at their destination.
Lucas’s lower back was screaming for a break, so he leaned the crutches against the wall and bent down to let Drew slide off. Drew sat on the step next to the professor. Billy Ray unfolded the wheelchair and helped him into the seat.
“Where’s that water?” Lucas asked.
Drew opened his backpack and gave him a bottle.
Lucas twisted off the plastic cap and chugged it down, barely stopping to swallow. “Hand me another,” he said, tossing the empty bottle into the corner. The water was lukewarm, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was it contained something wet and soothing. He took his time with the second bottle, savoring every sip, while sweat continued to trickle from his scalp and down his neck. A few minutes later, the bottle was almost empty.
“You about ready?” Kleezebee asked after standing up and sliding the crutches under his armpits.
Lucas tipped the bottom of the bottle above his head to drain the last few drops into his mouth. He tapped the end of the bottle twice, then answered, “Yep, I’m good.”
“Lead the way,” Kleezebee told Drew.
“It’s the fifth door on the right,” Drew said, rolling his wheelchair forward. Kleezebee followed him, but without his yellow bag, which was still sitting on the floor. Lucas assumed the professor had left it behind on purpose, perhaps because Kleezebee was pissed at him for making everyone wait while he enjoyed his water break.
Lucas slung the bag over his shoulder and followed behind the rest of the group. He kept turning around to check behind him, feeling like he was forgetting something, but he couldn’t figure out what. He figured it must have been his imagination; it had already been a long day, and he was getting tired.
The professor’s bag weighed about five pounds and was heavier at one end, making it awkward to carry. As Lucas walked, something inside the bag, possibly metal, clanked with each step. He was even more impressed with Kleezebee’s strength and agility for having carried the tote bag down the stairs, broken ankle and all.
Drew counted out the lab doors they passed. “Three . . . four . . . five. This is it—the QED lab.”
Drew pulled at the closed lab door, but it didn’t open. There was a security keypad next to the door with a horizontal card slot along the top of it.
Kleezebee stepped in front of Drew, then took the tote bag from Lucas. He opened it and removed a handheld electronic device with a credit-card sized keycard tethered to it by a ribbon-style communication cable. He inserted the card into the slot and began entering commands into the device. The professor tried multiple times to breach the door’s security system, but his device wasn’t working.
Eventually, Lucas grew impatient with Kleezebee’s futile efforts. “Do you mind if I give it try, Professor?”
Kleezebee held out the device in one hand, but Lucas didn’t take it from him. “No, thanks, I have a better idea. I need you to step back.”
Kleezebee moved out of the way, allowing Lucas to take a running leap with his feet aimed at the door just to the left of its handle. His heels made contact, bending the metal frame inward slightly, but the door remained shut. When he hit the floor, he landed on his right hip, sending shooting pains from his waistline down to his ankles.
He gasped from the pain. “Fuck, that hurt,” he said, squirming on the ground.
Billy Ray extended his hand to Lucas. “Need a hand, Dr. Ramsay?” he said in a thick Southern drawl.
Lucas gripped the tech’s hand, allowing the man to pull him up off the floor.
“Maybe we should try it together?” Billy Ray asked.
“Good idea,” Lucas said with discomfort in his voice. He rubbed his hand over his sore hip before taking two steps back from the door. “Go on three?”
“Sure. You count it out.”
Lucas counted to three and they coordinated the assault on
the door. A section of the metal doorframe broke loose and flew across the lab as the door flung open with a loud metallic screech, smashing its handle into the wall on the far side.
“Sometimes, brute force is only way to fly,” Lucas said with pride, walking into the QED lab with a fading limp.
Three free-standing grease boards were stacked along the right wall. Their clear surfaces were covered in mathematical equations written in both red and blue marker ink.
“Are those the equations you saw?” Kleezebee asked Drew.
“Yes,” Drew said, pushing his wheelchair toward them.
“Looks like they’re out of sequence,” Lucas said, bringing the mobile boards together end to end. He stood back to garner a better view of the mathematics.
“I think you should put the last one first and then swap the middle one to the end,” Drew said.
“Yeah, now I’m thinking,” Lucas said with a smirk on his lips, rearranging the boards as his brother suggested.
“Definitely some form of energy extraction from subspace,” Drew said.
“They appear to be incomplete,” Kleezebee said, looking around the room.
“Not only that, their cascade variants are all wrong,” Drew said, shaking his head. “I’m surprised this worked at all.”
“Just more of our hard-earned tax dollars being flushed down the toilet,” Kleezebee said.
“They should’ve hired us to do it. We’re probably a shitload cheaper than these guys,” Lucas said.
“And you would’ve gotten it done right,” Kleezebee said, smiling at Drew. The professor put his free hand on Drew’s shoulder. “What do you think, sport? Between the two of us, we should be able to finish these equations.”
“It might take a while to fix their work, but it’s doable,” Drew said, pulling out a yellow pad and pencil from his backpack.
Kleezebee told Lucas and Billy Ray, “Why don’t you two look around to see if there’s any paperwork or notes lying around? Maybe there’s something that’ll shed some light on the missing calculations.”
Lucas and Billy Ray began searching the lab, starting with the tallest storage cabinets built into the wall to the right of the entrance door. Lucas opened the double doors and found five shelves crammed full of manila file folders. Each folder had a date written on its index tab. The files were sorted in chronological order, starting five years ago.
Linkage (The Narrows of Time Series Book 1) Page 30
