The farmer didn’t look up, so Evans poked him with the sharp end of the pipe. He flinched, eyes still dull, but now moist.
“Put your arm in or I’ll kill you,” Evans said.
The farmer got to his knees slowly, wincing from the pain in his ankle. Half crawling, dragging his limp and bleeding leg behind, he inched toward the pipe vise and put his left arm through the loop. Evans wrapped the chain just below the farmer’s elbow, then tightened it, the farmer yelping with the pain and then sobbing as the chain cut through his flesh and the blood started to flow.
“Turn around,” Evans told the sailor.
When the sailor saw the farmer, his eyes widened at the sight of the man bleeding from his ankle, his arm locked in the vise. It was the sign of weakness Evans had hoped for. The farmer could stand it no longer and reached for the release on the ratchet. Keeping his gun on the sailor, Evans brought the pipe down on the farmer’s wounded ankle. The farmer yelped, his free arm reaching for his ankle.
“Don’t touch the vise,” Evans ordered.
The sailor was wide-eyed now, shocked by Evans’s cruelty.
“You’re going to lead me to the generators,” Evans repeated.
“You can’t go there,” the sailor said. “It’s not our territory.”
Evans took two sideways steps toward the vise and swung the pipe around in a big arc, putting all his strength into the blow. He hit the farmer’s arm halfway between the wrist and the elbow, snapping the arm in half. The farmer screamed and clawed ineffectively at the vise, too wracked with pain to work the release. Broken in the middle, the arm hung limp, connected only by muscle and skin. To Evans’s satisfaction the sailor stared open-mouthed. Then he turned, bent over, and threw up—nothing came out.
“I’ll take you to the generators. Just don’t hurt him anymore.”
Evans ordered the sailor to the corridor.
“Let me help him first,” the sailor pleaded.
“No.”
“Let me get him out of the vise, at least.”
“He can let himself out,” Evans said.
The sailor left reluctantly, looking back at the farmer. Evans let the farmer live because he wanted the sailor to have hope. He would kill the sailor eventually, but hostages with hope were easier to manipulate. The moans of the farmer followed them down the corridor.
DISSOLVED
“Should I call for an ambulance, Wes?” Shamita said.
They were all gathered around Elizabeth’s cot in the lab where she lay unconscious. Wanda sat on the edge of her cot, cigarette in hand, blowing smoke rings toward Len. Len periodically waved his hand to clear the rings, but otherwise ignored Wanda. Anita, in her Bugs Bunny tee-shirt, kneeled on her cot, one pigtail in her mouth, chewing anxiously and straining to see over the adults who stood around Elizabeth. The room was silent except for the whir of disk drives, the drone of computer cooling fans, and the soft pumping sounds of the liquid-nitrogen cooling system.
“Maybe you better get an ambulance,” Monica said.
Monica’s belated concern irritated Wes. She had pushed him to continue the experiment.
“Do it, Shamita. Call an ambulance,” Wes said.
Shamita was moving before Wes finished speaking.
“Len, keep your eye on her vital signs,” Wes said.
Len returned to his station, glaring at Wanda as he passed.
Wes held Elizabeth’s hand, talking to her, saying her name over and over, coaxing her back to the world. The others had woken immediately when the link was dissolved—even Anita, who was the strongest receiver. Elizabeth still wasn’t conscious six minutes after dissolution, and her body was reacting as if it was still in the dream.
“Her heart rate is coming down, Wes,” Len said. “Coming down fast. Blood pressure is dropping.”
Elizabeth’s eyelids fluttered, and everyone took an expectant breath. After a half dozen blinks the faces around her came into focus.
“Elizabeth, can you hear me?” Wes asked.
“I talked to Ralph,” Elizabeth said. “I told him to come home.”
“BP is still dropping. Heart rate is down to fifty-five,” Len said.
“Don’t talk,” Wes told her.
“What about Anita?” Elizabeth said suddenly, trying to sit up.
Wes held her down with a hand on her chest.
“Anita is fine,” Monica said.
“And Wanda?” Elizabeth wanted to know.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Wanda said loudly from behind. “I’m as tough as a cockroach. You couldn’t kill me with a rock if you tried.”
“Much as we’d like to,” Len said.
“Ha?” said Wanda, blowing a stream of smoke at Len’s head.
Elizabeth smiled weakly at the continuing war between Len and Wanda, then her eyes lost focus and her eyelids drooped.
“Heart rate is forty-nine beats per minute,” Len said. “Her blood pressure is continuing to drop.”
“Stay awake, Elizabeth,” Wes said. “Tell me what you saw, what you did.”
Elizabeth’s eyes opened again.
“I saw Ralph,” Elizabeth said weakly.
“Yes, tell me about Ralph.”
“If he comes home …”
“Yes, Elizabeth, if Ralph comes home, what?” Wes said.
“If Ralph gets home, don’t let him go back to the ship.”
Wes hesitated. To save Elizabeth, he had to find the source of the dream and stop the dream transmission. He didn’t know how to get there without Ralph.
Weak as she was, Elizabeth sensed his hesitation.
“Don’t go to the ship,” Elizabeth said. “Promise me you won’t go to the ship?”
Wes couldn’t promise. He would do whatever he had to, to save Elizabeth.
“I can’t promise, Elizabeth …” Wes began, but never finished. Elizabeth was unconscious.
EXIT
They fought a running battle with McNab’s Crazies, racing through the ship, following Ralph from one level to another. Casualties were light, and the wounded healed quickly, benefitting from the same force that had kept them from aging for fifty years. As they moved through the ship they picked up more of Kellum’s people, pockets of men, women, and children who joined the flight. The increasing numbers slowed them, increasing their vulnerability.
“They’re coming again,” Dawson said suddenly.
The crowd immediately reshuffled positions, those with weapons hurrying to help those in the back, unarmed women and children moving forward.
“How far is the door, Ralph?” Jett asked.
“I’m not so good at guessing, Nate.”
“How many turns and stairs?”
“Three turns, two stairs—up and down the same one two times—and three turns.”
“We’re in a hurry, Ralph. If you get us there quick I’ll give you a pack of gum.”
Ralph grinned and picked up his pace until he was moving at his full speed, somewhere between a walk and a run. They made the turns and climbed between decks, Jett losing track of the combination. Finally they came out on deck behind the funnel, then climbed down into the ship again. Soon Jett found that they were in a corridor with a mess hall on one side; a kitchen was separated from the tables by a serving counter. There was a hatch opposite the mess, and Ralph stopped.
“That’s like one of those thumbtack things Walter has stuck on the ends of the wires,” Ralph said.
“A door to the outside?” Jett said.
“Guess so,” Ralph said.
Jett undogged the hatch and pulled it open, revealing a green mist.
“He found one?” Dr. Kellum said in amazement.
Murmurs of surprise rippled through the crowd. Jett reached toward the mist, but Dr. Kellum stopped him.
“Bring a spear up here,” Dr. Kellum shouted.
“Nate, aren’t you forgetting something?” Ralph said.
Jett handed over one of his last two packs of spearmint gum, and Ralph tore into it
, feeding stick after stick into his mouth.
A spear was handed to Dr. Kellum, who slowly poked it into the green mist until only the part he held was visible. Then he pulled it back, looking at the tip.
“What’s that all about?” Jett said.
“Not all these doors go somewhere safe,” Dr. Kellum told him. “This ship is a maze of time-and-space loops all twisted around and turned back in on itself. This door might lead home, or it might not.”
Dr. Kellum handed Margolin the spear and called for the “sampler.” The sampler was a pole with a bellows attached to one end. A rope ran from the bellows to the end of the handle through a series of eyehooks. A spring had been fitted between the handle attached to the pole and the loose bellows handle. The rope ran to a latch that was holding the spring. The bellows was collapsed and latched. Dr. Kellum pushed the bellows end of the pole into the green mist, until he held only the handle. Then he pulled on the rope to release the catch at the other end. He gave the bellows a couple of seconds to expand, and then pulled the pole back out.
“Volunteer?” Dr. Kellum yelled.
Two or three people shouted in response, and Dr. Kellum pointed to a chubby sailor who pushed through to the front. Dr. Kellum held the bellows close to his face and then squeezed the handles, expelling the air caught inside. A yellow cloud puffed from the bellows, and the chubby sailor breathed some of it in. Instantly he was wracked with a fit of coughing and wheezing. He bent in half, held by those on either side. He retched three times in succession, all three dry spasms. When he had control of himself and was breathing normally again, Dr. Kellum thanked him for volunteering.
“We can’t use this door,” Dr. Kellum said.
“Ralph, take us to another door.”
“They’re close,” Dawson warned from somewhere back in the crowd.
Ralph was already moving down the corridor.
“Stop!” Dawson shouted. “There’s something wrong. They’re ahead of us now.”
“What? That’s not possible,” Dr. Kellum said. “These are new levels. They’ve never been to this part of our territory. How could they find a way past us?”
“I can feel it too,” another of Kellum’s people said, also sensing the minds of the Crazies. “There’s some ahead of us for sure.”
“That’s cause we’re not too far from the beginning,” Ralph said, while he unwrapped another stick of gum.
“Bring the map,” Jett ordered.
A middle-aged man wearing blue polyester slacks and a white dress shirt brought the ship model through the crowd. Kellum took the model and held it out to Ralph.
“Where’s the beginning?” Jett said.
Ralph pointed to a black wire that wound through the ship.
“We’re about to join up with the black level?” Dr. Kellum asked.
Ralph shook his head up and down.
Kellum’s face lit up as if he had just had a revelation.
“It makes sense,” Kellum said. “Einstein believed space and time curved, and that if you travelled far enough you would ultimately come to the beginning. We’re trapped in a microcosm of a universe that curves back in on itself.”
“But with exits,” Jett said.
Jett stepped to the mess and spotted a hatch on the other side—most of the ship’s compartments had at least two exits. He shouted to Peters and Compton in the rear.
“Get everyone through here. We don’t want to get surrounded.”
Then Jett took Ralph’s arm.
“Are there other doors, Ralph?”
“Sure, but it’s lots farther if we go this way,” Ralph said.
“We can use the map,” Kellum said. “The levels past here must be the inverse of those we’ve mapped.”
“But your map is flawed,” Jett said. “Ralph will lead us.”
“He doesn’t know the ship. We could pop out in the middle of Crazy territory.”
“Ralph found that door, and he’ll find us another. From what I’ve seen there couldn’t be many Crazies left in their territory. They’re all chasing us.” Then to Ralph he said, “Find a way out, Ralph.”
“Well okee-dokee then.”
“Remember your promise to go home, Ralph,” Jett said.
“A promise is a promise,” Ralph said, still chewing the thick wad of gum. “Go straight home just like it’s dinner time.”
“Right,” Jett said.
Ralph led the way through the mess while Jett hung back. The sailors, men, women, and children who passed looked at Jett with hope now, as if he was their leader. Jett was uncomfortable in the role, still thinking of himself as destroyer, not savior.
“They’re just about on us!” Dawson said as he passed.
Then Jett spotted the black woman who created illusions. He pulled her aside and explained what he wanted her to do. He didn’t know how accurate McNab’s telepathics were, but Dawson’s ability was crude. They would sense that Dr. Kellum’s people were moving away, but they might not be accurate enough to tell which compartment they had entered.
The black woman’s name was Marion; she waited with Jett, jaw set, seemingly fearless. When the last of Dr. Kellum’s people made it out of the wardroom, she and Jett stood in the doorway. A few seconds later they heard the Crazies. Jett nudged Marion, and she shut her eyes, projecting her illusion.
Suddenly Jett saw himself standing by the hatch Ralph had found that led to the place with the unbreathable air. A half dozen of Dr. Kellum’s people were with him, entering the green mist one by one. Jett had timed it perfectly—Marion’s image of Kellum’s people fleeing was still there when the Crazies risked a look around the corner. There was a shout from the Crazies, and suddenly metal fragments shot by his hiding place. Now he could see himself across the corridor, ducking and pushing the last of Dr. Kellum’s people into the mist and then stepping in himself. Next there was the thunder of a dozen feet as the Crazies raced down the corridor.
Jett stood perfectly still as they crowded around the hatch with the green mist. He trusted Marion’s assurance that the Crazies would see a closed hatch where he and the others waited. It worked—the Crazies clustered by the hatch with the mist. They were a ragged bunch, hair unkempt and matted, faces tattooed, sleeves cut from shirts and uniforms. Three-quarters of the Crazies were Norfolk crew, but there were a few civilians mixed in, including one middle-aged woman wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with “World’s Greatest Mom” written on it in what looked like crayon.
There was mumbling and shouting among the Crazies; no one seemed to be in charge. Then the woman in the sweatshirt shouted the others down, giving orders. Jett saw that three would go through the green mist first, and then two more groups of three in quick succession. The first group readied their weapons, two carrying crossbows. When they were ready, the first three rushed into the mist, prepared for a trap on the other side. The next three waited, counting to five, and then rushed into the mist. Only two made it through. The third got jammed in the entrance when he collided with one coming back from the other side. The returning man was coughing violently, clutching at his throat. His face and arms were blistered and his eyes were runny as if his eyeballs had liquified. Another man fell out of the mist, landing flat, his body wracked by violent spasms. Then, with a long, slow exhale, he went limp.
With a nudge from Jett, Marion turned and tiptoed away. Jett stepped back at the same time, since the closed-hatch illusion ended as soon as Marion turned. The Crazies had lost five men and were confused by the trick.
When Marion was through the other side of the mess, Jett backed across, his gun trained on the open hatch. A face appeared in the hatch and Jett fired, missing the Crazy’s head by three inches. There was shouting now, and the pack was after them.
Compton had taken charge in his absence, stationing some of Dr. Kellum’s people at every junction and turn they needed to make, sprinkling them like bread crumbs so Jett could find his way to the main body. At first they had passed through hatches without bothering to
close or lock them, since locked hatches would give away their route to the Crazies. Now they locked each hatch they passed through and Dr. Kellum’s people jammed as many as they could. Jett didn’t countermand the order, however, he worried it was not only slowing pursuit but it was cutting off lines of retreat. Still, the ship seemed to have an infinite number of passages and hatches, so he let the hatches be jammed.
Ralph was leading the pack when the next attack came, Dawson shouting a warning just in time. Jett had just caught up to the rear when there were screams ahead and a fireball burst in their midst. Dr. Kellum’s people broke toward Jett and he stepped aside, letting them pass. They were stopped a short distance later at a jammed hatch. Then there was pounding on the other side as the pursuing Crazies caught up. They were trapped between two enemy forces. There was a pitched battle in the front and Jett could hear the soft sputter of Peter’s and Compton’s guns and the clanging of crossbow bolts and metal shards skipping off metal. Every hatch along the corridor was opened in a desperate search for a way out. There was a shout when someone found an exit and the rush was on. Jett kept his gun trained on the hatch behind them. The hatch began to glow and he backed away, sweating from the heat of the red hot metal.
The door was beginning to melt so Jett backed to the hatch where Kellum’s people were escaping. Compton and Peters were backing toward him from the other end, covering each other’s retreat. It would be another minute before the Crazies behind them could melt a big enough hole to shoot through, so Jett turned and covered Peters and Compton while they followed Kellum’s people. The compartment was long and divided into large bins. Crates and barrels were stacked everywhere, tied securely with lines. There was a connecting hatch at one end.
Jett, Peters, and Compton followed the others through the end hatch, finding themselves on the bow of the ship. Dr. Kellum’s people were scattering everywhere in full retreat.
Jett looked for Ralph, spotting him a deck above near one of the gun turrets. He was opening a hatch and about to step through. Jett shouted Ralph’s name and he paused, looking down at Jett.
Ship of the Damned Page 24
