Going Dark

by Robison Wells

  And then there was light—so much light. And dust. I could barely breathe, or hear, and my head was ringing.

  I crawled out from under the bench.

  “Celia?”

  “I’m okay. You?”

  I didn’t answer. The support beam—an entire corner of the pyramid—was gone, and the two sides it supported were crumpled in and collapsed.

  The light was the sun. We were staring outside, through a cloud of thick, white dust. A quarter of the pyramid was gone, a massive pile of rubble.

  And bodies. There had been people right there. There had probably been people in those hotel rooms. People in the emergency stairs.

  And it had all been done by someone like me.

  NINE

  “HELP!”

  The voice came from somewhere near us.

  I ran toward the call, Celia behind me, shouting that I needed to get out of there.

  There was a woman trapped, her leg under a block of cement.

  “Please,” she said, looking up at us.

  “Krezi,” Celia said. “You go. I’ll stay and help.”

  “You can’t move that cement,” I said, trying to lift it. The woman, maybe in her early twenties, was wearing shorts, and blood ran down her hip.

  “Neither can you,” Celia said. She grabbed my arm and whispered, “Neither can you. Unless you want them to think that you’re the girl who did this. You can’t.”

  I ignored her, looking at the woman writhing in pain beneath the crushing weight of the cement. I shook my arm free.

  “I can help,” I told Celia.

  Celia swore and then knelt in the rubble, taking the woman’s hand. “Look at me. You’re going to be okay.”

  I placed my hand on the heavy block of concrete. I didn’t know how much force to use without hurting her foot underneath.

  I let out a small pulse, and the face of the block erupted in tiny fractures and dust. The woman screamed.

  “You can do it,” Celia said, though I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or the woman.

  I put my hand on the side of the block so the pressure wouldn’t crush her leg.

  I blasted it again, and the cement crumbled as the woman cried out.

  “What is that?” I asked, as I scrambled to dig the cement pieces out of the way.

  Three steel rods, each a half inch in diameter and encrusted in hunks of concrete, were still pinning her foot in place.

  “Rebar,” Celia said.

  I could see the woman’s foot underneath—it was obviously broken, and it seemed like her anklebone might have been sticking through the skin. I tried not to look.

  “Is anyone watching?” I asked, staring at the steel bars.

  “No,” Celia said quietly. “Be quick.”

  I took a deep breath, feeling the power deep inside me growing and rising through my body. I pointed at the steel, not with my palm this time, but with two fingers. A beam of light burst from my hand, channeled like a laser as I cut through the bars. It was so bright I had to close my eyes. I heard one bar twang and fall away, then a second, and finally the third.

  I was dripping with cold sweat.

  “How did you do that?” It was the woman asking now, staring at me, her face a mix of pain and fear.

  “She didn’t,” Celia said sternly. “You were hit by rubble and it broke your ankle.”

  Celia turned to me, digging in the pocket of her tattered uniform pants. “Here’s the key to my car. My driver’s license is in the glove box. We look enough alike that it should get you through any traffic stop.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Take my car and go north. Try to get to Aunt Angie’s in Elko.”

  “I can’t just leave.”

  She grabbed my arm. “You have to. What if someone watched you do that? What if anyone knows what you can do? Someone at the apartment last night?”

  “I’m not a criminal.”

  “You’re not, but that girl is. And she could do whatever it is you can do.”

  “But—”

  “I love you, Krezi,” she said, “but get out of here. Go now, and don’t turn back.”

  I took a step back, watching as Celia turned to the woman and began helping her from the pile of rubble.

  It took some time to get out of the city—all the roads were backed up, and there were crowds of people standing in the streets, staring at the destruction.

  The Stratosphere, which was tall enough to be seen from anywhere in Las Vegas, was gone. I couldn’t see the Bellagio. I didn’t want to think about it.

  Once I got on the freeway, things moved a lot easier. No police cared about speeders when half the Strip was destroyed. I still only had a learner’s permit, but Papa had taken me driving a lot, and I flew north. It wasn’t until I got off the freeway and pulled onto Highway 93 that I thought to turn on the radio.

  “. . . the disaster in Las Vegas is one of three terrorist attacks reported so far today, including the destruction of Texas’s Baytown Refinery, the largest oil refinery in the nation, and the Mall of America in Minneapolis.

  “Details are still coming in, but casualties are expected to be in the tens of thousands. The president will be addressing the nation. Currently, no terrorist group has claimed responsibility for the attacks. All we know is that they were well planned and perfectly timed. Reports indicate they all happened within ten minutes of each other.

  “We’ll now go to our affiliate in Baytown to—”

  I turned the radio off and pulled the car over. I was crying too hard to see, and as I tried to wipe the tears away mud came off in my hands. I looked in the mirror and saw I was caked in white dust.

  Everything was gone. My house, my family, my life.

  I had to run.

  EXCERPT FROM BLACK OUT

  The virus has spread. Read on for a sneak peek at

  ONE

  “READY?” ALEC ASKED, LOOKING IN the rearview mirror at Dan, whose eyes were closed in a kind of nervous meditation.

  “I’m good,” Laura answered.

  Alec ignored her. He wasn’t concerned about Laura. She had the easy job.

  “Dan? Ready?” he asked again. “It’s time.”

  Dan didn’t meet Alec’s eyes, but opened the car door and stepped into the visitor parking lot of the Glen Canyon Dam. Their beat-up Chevy Bronco was one of only three vehicles there—the other two were desert-camouflaged Humvees.

  Alec smiled. Soon there would be at least fifty thousand dead. Probably more. Lake Powell, the enormous reservoir just upriver from the Grand Canyon, got three million visitors per year, and even though it was September now—not peak season—there had to still be at least fifty thousand people on the lake.

  Add to that anyone in the bottom of the Grand Canyon. All of the water from Lake Powell would scour the Grand Canyon and then pour into Lake Mead, overtopping the Hoover Dam and taking it out, too, in a violent flood. Alec wished he had better numbers to estimate the deaths. He wished he’d be there to watch it all happen.

  Oh well. It would be in the news soon enough. And it would take hours for the water to get to Lake Mead, so there would be reporters waiting. He could watch the Hoover Dam topple from safety, five hundred miles away.

  Besides, deaths weren’t the numbers he was supposed to be most concerned about. Glen Canyon Dam produced 4.5 billion kilowatt hours of electricity per year, and Hoover generated another four. In one day he’d knock out enough power to light up Las Vegas for half a year.

  He stepped to the back of the Bronco and clapped Dan on the shoulder. “For your mother and mine.”

  Dan nodded without making eye contact.

  “Yeah.”

  They walked toward the visitor center in silence, Alec feeling a serene calm. This would be the biggest attack yet. Not just the biggest of theirs, but the biggest all across America. And rightly so—he was supposed to be setting the example.

  A speedboat shot across the lake in the distance, leaving a trail of white fo
am in its wake.

  “Their country is falling apart and they go on vacation,” Laura said, sounding amused.

  “They have to relieve stress,” Alec answered sarcastically. “They probably think being in the wilderness is safe.”

  If anything, the lake had more people on it than usual for this time of year, a fact he’d discovered yesterday when he’d tried to rent a small craft to scope out the dam. All he’d been able to get was an old houseboat, and he’d had to navigate through a bustling marina to where he could get a good view. From there, Alec made all his notes—security patrols, escape routes—and developed a quick plan. Laura had lain out in a bikini and taken in as much sun as she could before the cool September breezes forced her to pull her T-shirt back on. And Dan had just sat for hours, eyes transfixed on the mass of concrete.

  They reached the visitor center. The glass doors were locked, but that had been expected.

  Laura knocked, hard enough that Alec worried the doors might shatter. She was showing off. Idiot.

  He took a breath and tried to clear his mind. It was time for his part of the plan. He’d rehearsed the conversation a hundred times in his head—trying to think of every possible variation, every surprise. He was ready.

  A moment later a soldier appeared, dressed in the full combat fatigues of the National Guard, a rifle slung across his chest. Without opening the door, he gestured for them to go away.

  Alec shook his head and held up a clipboard. “We have an appointment.”

  The soldier watched them for a few seconds, and then waved them off again.

  “We have an appointment,” Alec shouted again, through the glass. “We’re from the University of Utah.”

  The guard sized them up. If he was worried, he didn’t show it; he just seemed annoyed. All three were shorter than him. Alec was the oldest at nineteen, and skinny. Laura looked more like a ditzy cheerleader than a terrorist. Only Dan had any muscle, but he was short—maybe five foot six.

  Alec was already working on the man’s mind. Implanting memories was an imprecise science, but Alec was confident: the glass was thick, but not dense or leaded or bulletproof; the man was only about four feet away; Alec was fully prepared.

  It would take a few moments.

  The soldier opened the door about three inches. The handles inside were actually chained, and it was all Alec could do not to laugh. The whole front of the visitor center was glass, and they expected a chain to stop a break-in?

  The guard spoke through the gap. “Can’t you read the sign? Dam’s closed until further notice.”

  Laura spoke. “We have an appointment.”

  “An appointment? For a bunch of kids?”

  “Grad students,” Alec said. “U of U. We’re here to get the weekly samples.” He held up a length of cotton rope and a handful of plastic tubes.

  “There’s no one here to have an appointment with,” the soldier said, flustered. Alec could see the false memories beginning to take hold. “We’re . . . the dam . . . it’s on lockdown.”

  Alec held up the clipboard again. “I showed you our security clearance. We were here last week, remember?”

  The soldier’s brow furrowed. “Well . . .”

  “We know it’s a hassle,” Alec said, “but if I don’t get this data my thesis is gonna be shot.”

  The guard readjusted his rifle on his shoulder, uncomfortable and confused.

  Alec tapped the clipboard a final time. “It’s signed by your commanding officer,” he said, prodding the memory that was slowly infecting the soldier’s mind.

  The soldier, looking completely flustered, nodded, and undid the padlock on the chain. “Just . . . just be quick, okay?” He turned his back to the group and led them into the visitor center, illuminated only by the large windows. The place had probably been closed to tourists since the United States went on high alert, three weeks before, and the building had a feeling of abandonment to it, as if the workers had left in the middle of what they were doing. A half-eaten sandwich sat on the information desk, the lettuce now brown and limp, the bread shriveled and stale. A scattering of papers lay on the floor in front of the cash register.

  The guard led them to an elevator. He was walking more quickly now, with gained confidence as the memories solidified and began to fit more naturally into his mind.

  He opened the door for them, smiling cheerfully at Laura and nodding to Alec and Dan. In a moment they were several stories down and walking out onto the top of the dam. A breeze blew Laura’s hair across her face as she turned and said, “Five minutes. Promise.”

  Alec stayed beside the soldier, gently feeding a second set of memories into the man.

  “Aren’t you going with them?”

  Alec shook his head. “I don’t like heights.”

  Fifty yards away, Laura leaned over the edge of the dam and looked down at the lake thirty feet below. On tiptoe, she began to unwind the rope and lower it. There wasn’t any point to this, other than to make it look like they were doing something somewhat scientific. She was the distraction and the getaway plan. Dan would do the real work.

  The soldier’s radio crackled to life. The voice on the other end sounded alarmed.

  “Gulf Charlie Five, this is Gulf Charlie Four. Private Diamond, what are those kids doing on the dam? Over.”

  He pulled the radio from his belt. “They’re from the U. They have papers signed by Lieutenant Kilpack. Over.”

  While Laura stretched out over the railing—she was wearing short shorts and a tank top for the explicit purpose of drawing the attention of whatever soldiers were watching—Dan had gotten down on one knee, his right hand flat on the cement.

  The staticky voice spoke again. “No one’s supposed to be out there, Diamond. Over.”

  Diamond glanced at Alec and spoke into the radio. “I don’t know what to tell you. I have the written orders right here. Over.”

  Alec looked around for the other soldier, but there was no one in sight. There were the two empty military vehicles parked in the lot—there were military vehicles everywhere nowadays—but most of the manpower was focused on the bridge over the canyon. That was the more likely target. As far as the army knew, it was next to impossible to damage a dam this size from up on top. All three of them could have been strapped with C-4 and not made a significant dent in it. The military still hadn’t figured out anything important; Dan was more powerful than any explosive.

  “I’m going to make a call,” the voice on the radio said. “Stand by. Over.”

  “It’s fine,” Diamond replied, a little nervousness in his voice. “I’ve got an officer with the sheriff’s office right here next to me. Over.”

  Alec released a little tension in his jaw. That had been tougher. It was easy to convince the man that the three of them were students, but much harder to immediately create a new, less-plausible story. Alec looked nothing like a police officer.

  But, that’s why he was in charge.

  “Sorry, officer,” Diamond said. “We’ll get it sorted out.”

  A sudden shudder rolled through the concrete like a wave. Diamond and Alec both automatically reached for the wall for support.

  The radio snapped to life. “Gulf Charlie Five, this is Gulf Charlie Four. Private Diamond, get those kids the hell off the dam.”

  Diamond began walking toward them. “Hey!”

  Alec followed, right by his side.

  There was another rumble, louder this time.

  Come on, Dan, Alec thought. Get it done.

  Twenty yards from the teens, the guardsman raised his rifle. “Hey, get over here.”

  Hurry up. Alec could fill the soldier’s head with false memories, but he couldn’t quickly override the soldier’s deeply ingrained training to follow orders.

  Laura dropped the rope and held up her hands, but Dan didn’t move.

  An alarm was sounding now, and Private Diamond stopped, training his rifle on the two teens.

  “Turn around,” he barked.
<
br />   Dan ignored him.

  There was a sharp crack, and for an instant Alec thought Diamond had pulled the trigger. But the sound was much louder than a gunshot, reverberating off the canyon walls and shaking the ground under their feet. The face of the cement was splintered with a thousand tiny cracks and a thin cloud of dust burst skyward.

  “You have three seconds,” Diamond shouted.

  The radio was screaming at him to fire.

  That was all Alec needed. If no one else was firing at Dan, then there weren’t snipers. The voice on the other end of the radio was probably inside the dam itself, watching the four of them on security cameras. They’d be feeling the real impact of what Dan was doing.

  Alec pulled the private’s sidearm from the holster. There wasn’t even time for Diamond to respond before Alec fired three shots into the soldier’s neck and head.

  The dam rumbled, deep and grinding, knocking Alec to his knees.

  Ahead of him he saw Dan try to stand, wobbling on weak legs.

  It was finally Laura’s turn. She grabbed Dan and slung him over her shoulder as easily as if he’d been a stuffed toy. She ran toward Alec and the visitor center.

  Alec took the soldier’s rifle and radio, and then handed the pistol to Laura as she met them. He held the door open for her, and then chased after her up the emergency stairwell—she took them three at a time.

  There was a ding of an elevator in the visitor center, and Alec spun and fired a short burst from the rifle in the direction of the sound.

  “Door’s locked,” Laura shouted, and then Alec heard her smashing through the glass.

  He fired another burst toward the elevators and then turned and ran, jumping through the broken glass door and sprinting to the Bronco.

  “You do it?” Alec asked, barely containing his laughter. “You have time?”

  Dan nodded weakly. “I did it. Damn thing’s full of rebar, but I did it.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ROBISON WELLS lives in Holladay, Utah, with his wife and three kids. He recently finished graduate school, during which he read and wrote novels when he should have been studying finance. He is also the author of FEEDBACK. You can visit him online and read his blog at www.robisonwells.com and follow him on Twitter @robisonwells.