“God bless America!” he bellowed, ready for the end.
Then he was yanked backward into cool, sudden darkness and the raging eyes vanished.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Don’t wander too far,” Rachel said to Squeak as they exited the Humvee.
The first red glimmer of dawn burned on the smoky eastern horizon, muting the aurora and casting shadows across the landscape. They were two hours past the Virginia border, heading north on I-81 when the Humvee’s tank hit empty. They’d pulled into a truck stop near Christiansburg to scrounge for diesel fuel, a task that fell to Munger and DeVontay while K.C. tended to Franklin’s wounds.
Squeak pointed to Finn. “Is he going to be my little brother?”
Rachel smiled at the girl’s innocent assumption that they were a family. “We’ll figure all that out later.”
“Can I hold him?” she asked in a pleading voice.
“That’s probably not a good idea.”
“I won’t drop him.”
“You’re not much bigger than I am,” Finn said.
“I’ve seen other babies like you. Some of them took care of me in Wilkesboro.” Squeak stared vacantly at the cracked, oily pavement. “Before the Zaps killed my mommy.”
“I’m sorry about that, Squeak,” Finn said. “Sometimes we hurt people before we really understand what we’re doing.”
“How many people have you killed?”
“I’m not sure.” Finn gazed up at Rachel as if expecting her to come up with an acceptable answer, and apparently decided honesty was indeed the best way to build trust. “Only the ones that tried to hurt Rachel and the rest of you, as far as I know. The ones the robots killed.”
“And people tried to hurt the robots.” Squeak cradled her doll in imitation of the way Rachel held Finn. “Rachel, can I paint my doll’s eyes so they look like a Zap?”
Rachel wasn’t sure Squeak should be so eager to be a pretend carrier, but as a school counselor in a long-ago life, she knew the value of having things to look forward to. “As soon as this is over, we’ll find some art supplies, okay?”
Squeak nodded, bouncing the pigtails Rachel had tied for her. Rachel glanced around, making sure they were safe, even though the truck stop was a flat, open patch of asphalt maybe four acres in size. Any threats would be easy to spot before they got too close, but the rows of tractor-trailers parked closely together near the rear of the lot made her uneasy. They’d traveled much of the night without incident, taking turns sleeping while two stayed awake to keep watch at all times.
They went back to the Humvee, where K.C. and Franklin were arguing, although Rachel could tell most of it was her grandfather’s crankiness at being fussed over. “Why didn’t you wait at the radio antenna like I told you?”
“Why can’t you let that go?” K.C. said, wiping at a cut over his brow. “I did what you said, but when I saw the Humvee parked by the side of the road, well, I couldn’t just leave it there, could I?”
“Anybody with any sense would’ve jumped in and driven the hell away from there as fast as possible.”
“I guess I don’t have any sense, then. That’s why I drove back to Arrowood to see if anybody was still alive.”
Franklin nodded at Squeak. “But you had other people to worry about besides yourself.”
“Squeak wanted to go back for you guys just as much as I did. Right, honey?”
“Yeah,” the girl said. “I wanted to see the robots again and the pretty city.”
K.C. put away the first-aid kit and Franklin pulled on his beard a few times in exasperation. “Well, I guess sticking together is always the best plan, or else we spend all our time chasing each other in a circle.”
Munger and DeVontay returned with two five-gallon Jerry cans of fuel they’d siphoned from a truck. DeVontay poured additive into the cans to revitalize the old fuel while Munger ate apple sauce from an MRE pouch. The colonel glanced warily at Finn from time to time, but he’d mostly behaved during their trip. Rachel still didn’t quite trust him, but was he really any more dangerous than this powerful Zap infant in her arms?
“I heard that, Rachel,” Finn said, reminding her of his telepathic abilities.
“Don’t take it personally,” she replied.
“I understand. This isn’t your first rodeo.”
“Mine, neither,” Franklin said. “Rachel probably told you what I did to the last baby that tried to mess with her.”
Rachel had not quite forgiven Franklin for killing Kokona, because the severed connection between her and the baby might have cost Rachel her life as well. Only DeVontay’s commitment and ingenuity had saved her. She understood why Franklin did it—putting his precious principles above family—but that didn’t mean it was his choice to make.
“How much farther to Luray Caverns?” K.C. asked Munger.
“About a hundred and fifty miles.” The colonel tossed his empty pouch on the ground and licked his thin lips. “Should take us almost four hours at this rate, if we don’t run into any surprises.”
“If you hadn’t shot Private Cone in the back, we’d still have a radio,” DeVontay said. “We could call ahead and let them know we’re coming.”
“There’s one surprise,” Finn said. “A dome in Roanoke.”
“Bullshit,” Munger said with vehemence. “I’ve driven I-81 a dozen times in the last year or so. I passed Roanoke two weeks back and didn’t see any Zap cities.”
“That’s because it’s new,” Finn said, smiling with a barely veiled smugness. “Joanna built it. Her plasma sink is nearly finished, and she’ll soon be manufacturing our special metal.”
Rachel probed Finn to see if the baby was lying, although she saw no reason for his deception. Why would he lie about something they would soon be able to verify for themselves, since Roanoke was only twenty miles away? Or perhaps she, like Munger, didn’t want to believe the Zap’s evolution was accelerating so rapidly.
“So this is how you respond to nuclear annihilation,” Munger said. “Build enough cities and hope that we won’t be able to hit them all.”
“I’ve already spoken with Joanna,” Finn said. “She’s prepared to join us. She is willing to meet with General Alexander and your people.”
“Sounds like we’ll need all the help we can get,” Franklin said. To Munger, he said, “Rachel’s in charge of our group, but in deference to your military experience and my disgust at everything you stand for, I’m humbly asking for your permission to stop and pick her up.”
“What the hell?” Munger said. “This carnival ride can’t get any crazier, but I don’t know where we’re going to put everybody.”
“Great, pile them all in,” K.C. said, getting back behind the wheel. The woman had impressive stamina for being in her mid-fifties, but exhaustion deepened her wrinkles and darkened the flesh beneath her eyes. She’d stubbornly insisted on serving as driver, joking that when civilization got back to normal, she’d get a job as a chauffeur.
Rachel sat in the cargo area with Squeak, Finn, and DeVontay. She and DeVontay had been unable to carry on any personal conversations lately, and she missed their intimacy. “How’s the eye holding up?” she asked him after they were on the road again and the droning engine was putting Finn and Squeak to sleep.
“It’s freaky, honey,” he said, touching his temple as if he’d grown so used to it he’d forgotten it. “Most of the time it just sits there, but sometimes it gets warm and tingles a little. And sometimes it sees.”
He told her about being able to penetrate the visual camouflage of the dome and see Rachel with Finn, and how the eye had provided astonishing acuity when he’d shot the soldier with the grenade launcher. Acknowledging its powers were connected to the organic metal of the city and the robots it had crafted, he wondered if his prosthetic eye carried its own thoughts, memories, and dreams.
“You’re part of a bigger mystery now,” she said. “Like my mutations. For better or worse, I’m a Zap. That’s not all I am, but
I can’t deny this part of me.”
“So I’m a metal head,” DeVontay said. “They’d never believe this shit back in South Philly.”
“I can barely believe it here and now.” Rachel grinned at him, and then leaned forward to kiss him. After a few seconds, she pulled away and whispered, “Well, that hasn’t changed.”
“Maybe we’re part of a new future,” DeVontay said. “Look at this crazy bunch we’ve put together. Part Zap, part metal, part human. All of us, everything, trying to figure it out as we go along.”
“It’s not going to matter if we don’t stop those bombs,” Rachel said.
“We’ll find a way,” DeVontay said.
Although the baby soon awoke, they didn’t need Finn in order to find the domed city in Roanoke. It was just off the road, glowing with an intense blue, energy flowing through its plasma sink. Joanna waited for them just outside the city, held by an almost translucently silver robot that had no hands or facial features, as if it was still finding its shape.
“We can’t bring that robot into Luray,” Munger said. “Besides, we don’t have room.”
“Well, I can’t carry the baby,” K. C. said. “I have to drive.”
“Grandpa?” Rachel said.
The old man turned around from the passenger seat and gaped at her. “No way in hell am I going to be a carrier.”
“I thought you believed in this mission, Franklin,” DeVontay said, only half teasing.
“We’ve all got to sacrifice for the cause, soldier,” Munger said.
“She won’t bite,” Finn said. “I made her promise. Besides, she doesn’t have any teeth yet.”
Grumbling and muttering under his breath, Franklin climbed out of the Humvee. He took the baby from the robot, sniffed at her as if she might have a soiled diaper, and then carried her back to the vehicle while holding her out in front of him like a stick of firewood.
“Hello, everyone,” Joanna said in a bright, chirpy tone. “I already know Finn, but I am glad to meet the rest of you.”
She was adorable, with a button nose and olive-colored skin, and loose, jet-black curls ringing her face. She might’ve been six months old when she was permanently transformed into a Zap, yet her intense, jewel-like eyes suggested intelligence greater than that of any Zap baby Rachel had ever met.
They resumed their journey, and within fifteen minutes Franklin was cooing over her and tickling her chin with his beard. Rachel couldn’t tell if his sudden affection was voluntary or not. Perhaps it didn’t matter.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“You almost got your ’nads chewed off, Chief,” Sketch said.
Alexander sat on the concrete floor, sweat cooling, each heartbeat causing an electric spear of pain to shoot along his injured arm. “What are ’nads, dare I ask?”
“Stones, dangly bits, family jewels. You know. Testicles.”
“I suppose I should be grateful. But now we get to sit here until we starve to death in the dark.”
“Nah, Chief,” the teen said. “This is a solar lantern. I’ve had it outside charging for three days and I just brought it down here before dark.”
“You weren’t supposed to leave your post at the radio room,” the general said.
Sketch shrugged. “So, shoot me.”
“I’d better save the bullets for our friends out there, if we decide to make a run for it.”
Alexander had checked the Beretta’s magazine, a clumsy procedure with only one functioning hand, and found that three rounds remained. He’d already decided he wasn’t going to save one of them for himself. He wasn’t taking the coward’s way out while one of those precious bullets could take down a Zap.
They were in one of the equipment closets that had once held the most advanced gear known to the U.S. military. As with the computers in the command center, most of it had been discarded as useless given the absence of a power grid. The space had been cleared for future emergencies by order of President Murray who, like Reeves, foresaw the possibility of housing large groups of people in the subterranean stronghold. Sketch’s lantern was small and its output weak, but it illuminated enough for them to see each other in the small room.
“Where do you think they came from?” Sketch asked.
“My guess is those metal creatures chased the Zaps into the caves and they eventually found their way down here,” Alexander said. “So many channels in this limestone, you’d never be able to map them all. We could never navigate them, but they have no problem. And their eyes give them an advantage in the dark.”
“Like the attack just before President Murray left,” the teen said, pushing his bangs from his eyes.
Alexander’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What do you know about that?”
Sketch shrugged. “Nothing. Just that she was gone right after the attack. I figured she was scared and ran away, or maybe she was ashamed.”
“Is that what other people are saying?”
“Dude, you hear all kinds of crazy stuff. Conspiracy theories. Paranoid junk. Hashtag ancient aliens.”
“What does ‘hashtag’ mean?”
“Like in social media. When you put the hashtag before the thing you want everybody to talk about.”
Alexander vaguely knew about social media, even though he’d never been particularly tech savvy even in the era of smartphones and tablet computers. “Then why not just say ‘ancient aliens’? It’s faster and more efficient.”
“But then people won’t know it’s super important,” Sketch said.
“Why say it at all if it’s not important?”
“Part of the game. Just like us pretending you didn’t wreck Murray’s shit and seize power. Right, Chief?”
Alexander wiped his parched lips with the back of his hand. Sketch had a bottle of water with him when he heard the Zaps kill Reeves, and he’d had enough sense to pocket it before taking refuge. He had yet to offer Alexander a sip, and the old general was too proud to ask. “Murray’s policies failed us. We did what we did for the common good.”
“Sure can’t argue with the results,” Sketch said, crossing his legs and sitting in a lotus position. “Things are going just great.”
“Just because you and I are trapped doesn’t mean the entire community is in danger,” Alexander said. “I have confidence in our troops.”
“Could be,” Sketch said. “On the other hand, if those missiles drop, we might be the last humans alive. Just you and me, Chief, carrying on for all those poor, lost sinners.”
Alexander wasn’t sure he could stand another five minutes with the kid, much less the five days it would likely take them to die of thirst. Of course, Alexander was much older and weaker and would give out in a matter of a few days. But he might end up shooting the kid just for the joy of it.
“What do you know about the missiles?” the general asked. Sketch seemed to know a great deal about a great many things that no one else was supposed to know.
“Oh, just things I pick up here and there,” he replied. “I mean, I’m calling NORAD practically nonstop, so it’s pretty easy to figure out what that one’s about. And Operation Free Bird. These code names usually mean the opposite of what they sound like, so I figure that particular specimen of gobbledygook is a buzzard instead of an eagle. Plus, I heard you tell Colonel Munger that you wanted to stop it.”
Alexander closed his eyes. His stump was bleeding steadily, soaking his bandage and dripping to the floor. How long before I pass out again?
Sketch’s voice came to him as if from a great distance and he came back to consciousness. Apparently he’d only blacked out for a handful of seconds, because Sketch continued his cheerful chatter. “…so I had to ask myself, ‘What’s the point of destroying the world? Why did old people get to decide we all deserve to die? I mean, we didn’t even vote on it.”
“You have to trust authority, Private,” Alexander croaked through his parched throat. “Leaders don’t make their decisions lightly. But somebody’s got to make the tough calls.�
�
“But shouldn’t somebody be everybody? We’ve made it five years since the solar storms, even with Zaps and monsters and who-knows-what trying to kill us. Sure, it’s not the best life ever, but it’s life. Most of us have adapted. It is what it is and we’ve learned to deal.”
“We’re trapped in a hole in the ground, son. While Zaps dance on our graves. That might be okay for you, since you don’t remember the glory of the Red White and Blue, but it doesn’t sit well with me.” Alexander’s rage was ill-advised, since it left him weak and woozy when it faded.
Sketch noticed, unfolding his long, lean legs and crawling over to Alexander with the water bottle. He twisted the cap and held the bottle to Alexander’s lips, and the old man gratefully drank a couple of gulps.
“So you’ll take away our future just because it’s not your past,” Sketch said with a smirk on his face. “That’s a really shitty attitude, Chief.”
The solar lantern had dimmed noticeably, and the teenager’s face was steeped with shadows. He didn’t even seem upset at Alexander or the apocalypse or even the Zaps. Alexander felt an overpowering need to make the youngster understand. This wasn’t just about losing a way of life. It was about not losing. Period.
America doesn’t lose.
“President Murray initiated Operation Free Bird, Private,” he said in a low, steady voice. “Her and the Earth Zero globalists. I’m trying to stop it. Because I think we can win this thing.”
“And if we don’t?”
“I’d piss gasoline and set the whole world on fire.”
“So how do we win if we can’t even make it out of this room? How do we stop the missile launch if we can’t get to the radio? Assuming we even had the abort code, that is?”
Alexander struggled to his feet, pushing with his legs to gain leverage. Sketch assisted him, holding him by his good arm as Alexander found his balance. Before Alexander could attempt a step, he heard a thundering clatter in the hallway outside, something sharp skittering along the concrete, and the hissing, frantic squeals of the Zaps. Bodies thudded against the walls with wet, splattering noises. Something banged against the door hard enough to dent the metal. It was like a stampede out there.
Half Life: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Next Book 6) Page 15
