B Mountain, Martina had called it. The B standing for Burroughs High School. While the high school was in town, the mountain was located within the confines of the China Lake naval base.
The navy, he thought.
Surely the military had taken some action to try to save people. Maybe it had set up a safety zone within the base. Though Martina’s dad was a civilian, he worked for the navy. Wouldn’t the navy’s first priority be to save its own? Would that include civilian employees and their families?
Yeah. That has to be it.
With renewed purpose, he drove through town toward the base and found the entrance without too much trouble. The guardhouse was unmanned. That was to be expected. If there was a flu-free zone inside, any personnel would most likely be consolidated near it. They’d probably be jumpy, he thought. To be safe, he kept his speed down so he wouldn’t look threatening.
He spent the rest of the morning and the whole afternoon driving around the base, checking every building and road. He had been right in one respect. There had been an attempt to consolidate survivors. It had occurred at the airfield in the isolated northern portion of the base.
A series of roadblocks flanked by fortified gun stands had been erected along what appeared to be the only route to the isolated section. None were occupied, though. Because of this, Ben knew what he would probably find, but he had to check anyway so he weaved around the concrete barriers and didn’t stop until he reached the airfield.
Hundreds of people had camped out in the hangars—men and women, some in uniform and some not. And children, lots of children.
And every single person dead.
Ben stood frozen outside the main hangar for twenty minutes before he forced himself to grab a hoodie from his bag. Using the arms, he tied the pullover around his mouth and nose and headed into the hangars. He didn’t want to walk among the bodies, but he had to know if Martina’s family was there.
If she was there.
It wasn’t long before he lost the small breakfast he had eaten, and by the time he’d confirmed that the Gable family wasn’t among the dead, his stomach had revolted twice more.
Weak and in a daze, he had gone back to his girlfriend’s house and fallen asleep on her bed before the sun had even set.
When he woke up that morning, he drove up and down the streets of Ridgecrest, honking his horn every once in a while, but the town was as devoid of the living as the navy base had been.
With all options in town exhausted, he didn’t know what to do. Martina was still alive. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe anything else. But where was she?
A million possibilities raced through his mind before one finally pushed its way to the front.
A survival station.
Would she have gone to one?
Of course. That had to be it. He had assumed that if she was immune like he was, she wouldn’t have seen the need of going to one of the stations to get vaccinated, but her family wouldn’t be immune so she would stay with them.
Where was the closest one?
He hadn’t watched TV in nearly a week, right after the UN secretary general had first come on the air. Survival station locations hadn’t been broadcast at that point, and even if they had been, he would have only heard about the ones in the Bay area.
He looked around. He needed to watch the message again.
He ran over to a house half a block away, heaved a potted plant through the window in the door, and let himself in.
He grabbed the remote for the TV in the living room and hit the power button.
The screen remained dark.
He closed his eyes and groaned. In his excitement and hurry, he had forgotten the town was without power.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply to stem his frustration.
Los Angeles, he thought as he opened his eyes again. There had to be a survival station there.
If the Gables had gone anywhere, that would be it.
With renewed purpose, he headed back outside.
6
LIMÓN, COSTA RICA
2:53 PM CST
AFTER FINDING NOTHING he could use at the port, Robert hopped into the fuel truck and drove through town toward Puerto Moin, the smaller auxiliary port west of the city.
His route afforded him a view of the sea, and it wasn’t long before he spotted the ferry meandering along just offshore, heading in generally the same direction he was. He increased his speed and quickly outdistanced the boat.
Puerto Moin was built along a small offshoot of the Caribbean that dead-ended several hundred yards from the sea. The dock took up the entire eastern edge of the miniature bay, allowing ships to pull right up next to the shore.
Currently, two freighters were moored at the southern edge, each looking as though it had been unloading when work was abandoned. The northern end of the port was empty. Robert raced to that end and stopped very close to the edge before hopping out.
Dammit, he thought. On at least two occasions in the past, he’d seen a speedboat tied up to the dock, but it wasn’t there now. He looked over at the freighters, thinking one of them might have a smaller vessel on board he could use.
There, mounted on the wall of the pilothouse of the nearest ship, was a Zodiac. The small rubber craft wasn’t the perfect solution but it appeared to be his only choice.
He ran over to the ship and up the gangway. As he made his way to the pilothouse, he caught sight of a much smaller dock on the other side of the channel. Lashed to it were three tugboats. He thought they would be too complicated to pilot, but the coast guard skiff moored next to them should be a cinch.
He raced back to the truck and drove around to the other dock, a plan beginning to form in his mind. It would take more time to execute than he’d have liked, but it would give him the best chance of success. Climbing out of the truck, he looked out toward the open water and saw the ferry continuing its trek up the coast.
Good, he thought. He had worried the ship had turned out to sea, that he had lost it.
He hustled down to the skiff and checked the gas tank. It was almost full, but given what he had in mind, he knew it would likely not be enough. He located several spare gas cans in a shed on shore and filled them from the tank on the pickup. Once he’d secured them in the skiff, he checked the craft’s built-in storage containers, looking for something he could use as a weapon. He found bottled water, diving gear, a blanket, and a first-aid kit, but no knife or gun.
Another check of the sea showed him that the ferry had moved past the point straight out from the port. In a few more minutes, the trees along the western edge of the channel would block it from view.
He jumped out of the skiff and hurried over to the first tug, where a quick search produced only a long metal pole with a hook on the end. He tossed it into the skiff and moved on to the second tug. Here he had much better luck. First he found a plastic case holding a flare gun and nine ready-to-use flares, and then he hit the mother lode—three identical handguns and two boxes of 9mm ammunition. One of the boxes was half empty, but the other was full.
He knew he should check to make sure the bullets fit the guns, but he couldn’t afford to waste any more time. He could check once he was underway. He located a canvas bag and stuffed everything inside before hurrying back to the skiff.
The ferry was out of sight now, but that was okay. They couldn’t have gone far, and he was sure his little boat would travel a lot faster than the big ship could.
He untied the skiff from the pier and started the engine. The boat was indeed fast, and he was able to zip to the end of the channel in no time and enter the sea.
He spotted the ferry immediately. It was a white blob not much larger than a quarter, off to the left. Once he felt he was far enough from shore, he turned so that he was paralleling the coast on the same line the ferry was traveling.
After that, the hard part was trying not to catch up, his boat wanting to jump across the surface like a skipped rock while the ferry pl
odded through the water like a blunt instrument. When night fell, that’s when he would move in. Until then, he kept a soft hand on the throttle and his prize in sight.
WARD MOUNTAIN NORTH, NEVADA
3:08 PM PST
“THIS STUFF IS useless,” Chloe said, tossing the journal she’d been reading onto her bed.
Ash looked over from the chair squeezed into the corner of her small room. “Maybe, maybe not. We need to go through everything.”
She glanced at the unfinished pile of journals. “I don’t think I can read another word.”
“I’ll finish them, then,” he said.
“Don’t tempt me.” She picked up the next journal and opened it.
They had been at it for hours, painstakingly going over each page to see if Matt might have written down something that would help them figure out what Augustine dream sky meant. So far, Ash had made a few notes about things that probably had nothing to do with his friend’s final words, while Chloe had come up with zilch.
He hoped the answer would be here somewhere, but he was beginning to think Chloe was right. Still, Matt must have felt Ash could figure out the message. Otherwise, he would have tried to give Ash more context, right?
Augustine dream sky.
What the hell did you mean, Matt?
Someone knocked on the door. Chloe jumped up to answer it.
From the hallway, Ash heard Crystal say, “Oh, good. You’re here.”
“What’s up?” Chloe asked.
“Bobby Lion just called in. He wanted to talk to Rachel, but…well, you know. I tried to find Ash, but I’m not sure where he is. Could you talk to Bobby?”
Chloe took a step away from the door. “Ash is in here.”
“Oh.” Crystal poked her head inside. “Good afternoon, Captain. Bobby Lion needs to talk to someone. Are you available?”
Ash stood up. “Sure.”
As Crystal disappeared back into the corridor, Ash set down the journal he’d been reading.
“I’d be happy to talk to him, if you want,” Chloe offered.
“What? And stop you while you’re on a roll?” He smiled. “I won’t be long.”
Ash followed Crystal through the maze-like tunnel system to her station in the communications room. Leon and Paul were manning the other two desks, each giving Ash a nod while they continued with the radio conversations they were having.
“Here,” Crystal said, handing Ash a headset. She donned a second pair and brought her computer screen out of sleep mode. “Let me get him back.”
After she made a couple taps on the keyboard, Ash heard ringing, then—
“Bobby here.”
“Bobby, it’s Daniel Ash.”
“Captain, how are you?”
Bobby and Ash had never met in person, and while Ash had tried to get Bobby to call him by either his first or last name, the former PCN cameraman, like most of the people in the Resistance, called Ash by the rank he’d held in the army prior to Project Eden’s test outbreak the previous spring.
“As good as can be expected. How are you guys?”
“Well, it’s finally happened. We’re jammed.”
Bobby and his colleague, Tamara Costello—the PCN reporter he had worked with before anyone ever heard of Sage Flu—were near Washington, DC, at an NSA facility. A few days earlier, they had been able to highjack the signal Project Eden was using to broadcast to the world, and replace it with Tamara telling everyone the truth—that there was no UN left, no worldwide vaccination effort, and the ironically named survival stations were meant to collect and terminate people the Project felt were no longer needed.
“They’re back on the air?” Ash asked.
“No. Either they couldn’t swing that or decided it wasn’t worth the effort. My guess is that they uploaded a virus that shut all the broadcast satellites down. Well, not all of them. We’re still broadcasting to parts of eastern Africa, central Asia, and South America. Otherwise, though, we’re done.”
“No way to get you back up?”
Bobby hesitated. “Hell, I don’t know. There might be a way, but my skill level only goes so far.”
“We’re going to want to get the satellite system working again at some point,” Ash said. If nothing else, it would be a good way to get messages around the world in a hurry. “There must be someone here who could figure it out. I’ll look into it.”
“If you can, that’d be great. What I really called about was to find out what you all want us to do. Stay here or…what?”
Ash glanced at Crystal, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head and mouthed, “Nothing for them right now.”
“Bobby,” Ash said, “I’ll have to look into that, too. For now, why don’t you two just hold there?”
“If that’s what you want, we can do that.”
Ash was about to sign off when he had a thought. He put a hand over his mic and looked at Crystal. “Can you give us a moment?”
“Um, okay,” she said, and removed her headset. “I’ll, uh, grab a cup of coffee.”
“Appreciate it.”
He waited until she was gone before taking her chair and leaning forward so that the computer blocked him from Leon’s and Paul’s view. In a low voice, he said, “Can you hear me?”
“Yeah, not as good as before but—”
“I want to ask you a question, but I need you to keep it to yourself, all right?”
A pause. “All right. What is it?”
“You and Matt talked a lot, didn’t you?”
“On and off,” Bobby said.
“Did he ever mention the phrase Augustine dream sky?”
“That’s a phrase?”
“Did he ever mention it?”
“I’m pretty sure I’d remember that, which,” he said dramatically, “I don’t.”
Ash had assumed that would be Bobby’s answer, but felt it worth a try. “All right. Thanks.” Raising his voice to room level again, he said, “You guys rest up. We’ll get back to you.”
Crystal returned, holding a mug, as he was removing his headset.
“Any problems?” she asked.
“No. Thank you. Sorry I had to kick you out.”
She shrugged. “It’s not the first time. And quite honestly, I’ve got enough going on in my head right now, I don’t need any more crap crammed in there.”
“Fair enough.” He paused. “Have you heard from Pax lately?”
“Paul did, I think.” She glanced over at the other stations. “Paul?”
His head bobbed up. “Yeah?”
“You talk to Pax today?”
“Yeah, this morning.”
“Can we call him back?” Ash asked.
“He’s pretty tied up today. They’re trying to get everyone off that island and over to the mainland. I could try him, but I doubt he’d answer.”
Ash shook his head. “It’s okay. I can wait. But if he does call in and has a moment, I’d like to talk to him.”
“You got it.”
NEAR FORT MEADE, MARYLAND
6:26 PM EST
BOBBY HUNG UP the sat phone and set it in its portable cradle to keep it charged.
He glanced at the computer monitor. It was displaying status readouts from the various satellites. Six still showed the green OPERATIONAL tag. It had been seven before he’d started talking to Captain Ash. If the rate of attrition kept up, all of them would be in the red OFFLINE category by morning.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Tamara asked as she walked into the room carrying two microwaved burritos and two cans of soda.
“They’re not sure,” he said. “I think everything’s kind of a mess now that Matt’s gone. Captain Ash told us he’d let us know. Until then, I guess we camp out here.”
“Well, then, we need to look around for some better food because I swear this is the last of these I’m going to eat.” She plopped the burritos on one of the desks. “Beans and cheese? Or cheese and beans?”
“The latter, I think,” he said, picking u
p the one closest to him. After a few bites, he said, “Tam, did Matt ever talk to you about something called Augustine dream sky?”
“Is that a place?”
“I have no idea. Captain Ash asked me about it. Was kind of secretive, too. Told me not to talk to anyone else about it, but I assume he didn’t mean you.”
“What was it again?”
“Augustine dream sky.”
“Augustine…dream…sky,” she said, then shook her head. “I’ve got nothing.”
7
OFF THE EASTERN COAST OF COSTA RICA
5:29 PM CST
PAX ARCHED HIS back and rolled his head side to side. He’d been at the controls of the ferry for hours now, sometimes sitting on the cracked cushion of the raised captain’s chair, sometimes standing in front of it, but never traveling more than a few feet away from the controls.
Outside, the sea was getting dark as the sun began disappearing behind the mainland. At least the water had calmed somewhat. For the first couple hours it had been a rocky trip. He’d heard at least two of his kidnappers throwing up over the railing of the passenger deck.
The stairs leading up to the pilothouse creaked behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the fortysomething woman—the older of the two, whom the others called Kat—step into the cabin, carrying a mug of steaming coffee and a bowl of food.
“That for me?” the man leaning against the back wall said. His name was Luke, and he was the guy currently on guard duty.
“It’s for Mr. Paxton,” she said. “If you want, I can bring you up some, too.”
“Or you can give me that and bring him up another.”
“Don’t be an ass,” she said, and carried the food across the cabin to Pax.
“Nice mouth you got,” Luke said.
Kat rolled her eyes so that only Pax could see. Then looked over at Luke and said, “I apologize. I’ll go get you some food right now.”
Dream Sky Page 5
