by Jay Falconer
“That explains why we can’t move. We must be in some kind of force field that’s protecting us from the intense gravimetric forces.”
“Correct.”
“If the two Bruno copies are hiding in one of these right now, how would they know when it’s safe to return to normal space?”
“Our watches contain a proximity sensor,” the tech said, holding the timepiece in front of Lucas’ eyes. He pressed a pair of buttons simultaneously, illuminating a wire frame representation of the surveillance room on the watch face. Two red blips were in the center, with a single red dot to the left.
“I take it we’re the two in the middle, and the other one is Dr. Kleezebee?”
“Yes, and the diagonal row are my co-workers, sitting at their stations.”
Lucas thought about calling out to Drew as a joke, but decided against it. The tech didn’t appear to have much of a sense of humor. “Can you take us back now?”
The tech pressed a few more buttons on the device, instantly returning them to normal space.
“Enjoy the trip?” Kleezebee asked.
“That was pretty fuckin’ cool,” Lucas replied, feeling a tad woozy. He rubbed his hands together to get the blood flowing again.
“What was it like?” Drew asked.
“I felt like a shrink-wrapped sausage in there.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Nope,” Lucas replied, flexing his fingers as if he were playing the piano. “You should give it a try, little brother.”
“No, thanks, I’ll pass.”
“Did you guys develop this technology?” Lucas asked the professor.
Kleezebee nodded. “Besides BioTex, it’s one of our most useful inventions.”
“That’s an understatement. James Bond would have had a field day with that thing. So when do I get one?”
“These watches have sensors that only allow our kind to operate it,” the tech replied.
“So, you’re a replica, too?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. But that’s not—”
“Gentlemen, we don’t have time for this,” Kleezebee said, pointing up at the screens.
The news helicopter was tracking Bruno’s sedan from the air and the military chase vehicles had cleared a path and entered the tunnel. They were turning left onto the access ramp leading up to the freeway.
“What’s the separation?” Kleezebee asked.
“Ten miles. Do you want to deploy the semis?”
“Let’s wait. We may not need them.”
* * *
Bruno whizzed past a pair of eighteen-wheelers parked on the freeway’s shoulder. “Can you see Alvarez back there?”
L climbed into the back seat and looked out the rear window. “No, the only thing I see is a helicopter following us. I think it’s one of Channel 13’s.”
“Good, then we probably won’t need the semis to slow them down,” Bruno replied, raising the handheld radio to his mouth.
“Base, this is Rabbit. Do you read?”
The radio squelched. “Rabbit, this is Base. We read you loud and clear.”
“I’m five miles from the primary flash point, awaiting final instructions.”
“Increase speed to seventy-seven miles per hour and maintain course.”
“Acknowledged . . . setting cruise control to seven-seven.”
“So, that’s it? We just drive straight ahead?”
“What’d you expect?”
“I thought I’d at least get to fire my weapon before we die,” L said, holding the rifle in a firing position out of the right rear window.
“But they’re only blanks.”
“I know, but still it would have been a blast to shoot it.”
“Go ahead, let ‘er rip.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure, why not? Just don’t unload the entire clip. It’s going to be loud.”
* * *
Lucas saw something long and slender poking out of the sedan’s right rear window. “What’s that? In the window?” he asked the video tech.
“Looks like a gun barrel . . . and someone’s shooting it.”
“Is there any way to adjust the camera so we can see what they’re shooting at?” Lucas asked the tech.
“I tried, but the servos aren’t responding.”
“It’s probably nothing,” Kleezebee said. “The chase vehicles are out of range and there’s nothing else on the road, other than our big-rigs.”
“Then I must be blowing off a few rounds,” Lucas said, smiling proudly.
“That sounds about right,” Drew replied.
Lucas scowled at his brother.
Drew shrugged.
“One minute, thirty seconds, sir,” the tech said.
“Show me the horse track in Green Valley,” Kleezebee said.
The upper left screen changed to show a wide-angle, landscape view of the northern edge of Green Valley. A sprawling mountain range cut across the upper section of the screen, serving as a backdrop for a towering cement plant off in the distance. In between the cement plant and the track’s parking lot was open desert covered with half-wilted bushes and saguaro cacti. The right edge of the screen was filled with a sea of tiled roofs, packed together like war protesters storming the White House gates.
“Is that the best angle you have?” Kleezebee asked.
The tech nodded.
The bottom of the screen contained a section of the track’s lower grandstands. “Shit, look at all that paper,” Lucas said, seeing thousands of tiny strips of white paper littering the track’s infield and seats.
A short minute later, Lucas asked, “Where should we see it?”
“Just on the other side of the cement plant,” the tech answered, “along the freeway’s access road.”
Right on cue, a bright flash filled the racetrack’s security feed, just beyond the cement factory. Moments later, the flash dissolved, leaving behind an energy dome exactly where the tech had predicted.
“Nice work,” Kleezebee said, patting the tech on the back. “Looks like you planted just the right amount of material.”
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 while smothering all six lanes of the Interstate. Bruno’s sedan slid sideways, leaving a trail of smoke and skid marks, right 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 being whipped around. The sedan was shredded into chunks 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.
Chapter 23
Revelation
“Are you two ready for a road trip?” Kleezebee asked.
“More than ready, Professor,” Drew answered, sliding the theory notebook into the zippered pouch of his knapsack. “Can we check on Mom before we leave?”
“Sure,” Kleezebee replied, before telling his techs, “Inform the security team we’ll be up in ten. Make sure they bring the climbing gear.”
Lucas turned to ask Kleezebee, “Uh, how are we going to get past the soldiers guarding the hole 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—stunners only.”
“You 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.”
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.
“They’re in there, sir.”
“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 followed behind Kleezebee as the professor 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 building’s red-bricked wall to peek around the corner. Ten seconds later, Kleezebee whispered to Lucas, “Seven and eight are pulling up now. Let’s hope this works.”
Lucas looked back at Drew who was sitting in rear passenger seat of the Humvee that had brought them 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. The silo’s senior lab tech—a replica who had introduced himself as Billy Ray—was sitting in the driver’s seat with his hands wrapped around the steering wheel. Lucas gave his brother and the other 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 that led down to NASA’s underground bunker. One of the soldiers was doing all the talking, when suddenly, the entire squad erupted into a collective laugh.
That 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 have boarded up the hole and called it a day.
A blue mini-van squealed around the corner and approached the soldiers from the west with country music blaring from its open windows. Two blond-haired women sat in the front seat. The vehicle swerved across the center stripe and rammed its front tires into the sidewalk about fifty feet from the soldiers’ position. The stiff, southerly breeze riffled through the van, sending strands of blond hair flapping across their faces.
The two girls—exact copies of Mary Stinger—stumbled out of the van, wearing faded blue jean cutoffs and skin-tight white tops that accentuated their identical figures. They wandered together near the driver’s door and giggled loudly, before they each took a swig from a liter-sized bottle the driver was holding in her left hand.
Kleezebee winked at Lucas and said, “Wild Turkey. Bruno’s favorite.”
The four soldiers, now standing side-by-side and facing the girls, had been struck dumb. Not a one of them moved or said anything.
“At least I’m not the only one to fall for that one,” Lucas mumbled under his breath.
Mary1, the driver, leaned her butt against the driver’s door and waved at the soldiers. “Hi, boys,” she called out as her twin walked erratically toward the men, swinging her hips almost as wildly as her arms. Ten feet into her journey, Mary2’s ankle rolled over and she fell to the ground, laughing. All four soldiers sprinted to her location, showering her with attention.
“Works every time,” Kleezebee whispered to Lucas.
Mary1 reached into the driver’s seat, pulled out a stunner, then snuck up behind the solders. 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 Kleezebee and blew out a shrieking whistle with two fingers inserted into the corners of her mouth.
“That’s our cue,” Kleezebee said, grabbing his crutches from Lucas, while both Marys morphed their appearance into Bruno’s likeness. “Why don’t you go see if Seven and Eight need any help getting the soldiers into the van? Drew and I will meet you there in a minute.”
* * *
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. Billy Ray, the lab tech who had preceded him into the shaft, took hold of the harness and rope after Lucas slid out of the gear.
Lucas looked up through a swirling column of dust particles and gave Kleezebee a thumbs-up signal. “All clear,” he shouted up to 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 was sent down to Lucas, then Drew made the trip, carrying the professor’s crutches and yellow travel bag. Lucas gave Kleezebee’s items to Billy Ray, before helping Drew into the wheelchair.
After the harness made the steady climb to the surface, Kleezebee slipped on the gear, then 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 been injured more seriously, just the slight tenderness, especially since he’d have to carry Drew down the stairs to the 20th Sublevel. His legs were still sore from carrying Drew up those same stairs, and the last thing he needed was a bum ankle.
“How’s your leg doing?” Lucas asked Drew after seeing a bloodstain on the floor. He assumed it was from the gash in his leg that Drew got 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, making a mental note to change Drew’s bandage when they returned to the silo.
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.”
More shit to carry? Lucas thought. What was he, Superman? “Sure, Professor, not a problem.” He held them 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 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 it, 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, a little help here?” Lucas pointed to Drew’s wheelchair, which was leaning against the cement wall.
“Oops, sorry about that,” Billy Ray answered.
Lucas held the crutches in his right hand and waited for Kleezebee, who was 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. He was right—it took just short of an hour to reach Sublevel 20.
Kleezebee unhitched the yellow bag and sat down on the bottom step.
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 until 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. Neither bottle was chilled, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that 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. Ten 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 the group 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.
The professor’s bag weighed about five pounds and was end-weighted, 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 this way wasn’t working.
