Serve you right, a tiny voice screamed out.
But the camper won its battle with the forces intent on pulling it over, and he shifted into gear just as he heard the THWOOMP of the propane tank exploding. He pushed the accelerator to the floor, achieving his escape velocity from the rapidly maturing holocaust behind him. In his rearview mirror, he saw a thick finger of flame erupting through the doorway, reaching out as if to tap him on the shoulder. Then it retreated back inside, and that was when the roof exploded.
When he was about a hundred yards clear, he stopped and climbed out onto the camper’s running board for a better view. He could hear the fire popping, crackling, almost talking to him. A small part of him, the vestigial part that still thought old-world thoughts, fully expected to hear the screams of fire engines racing to the scene, but, of course, there was nothing.
Even from this distance, he could make out a shimmery halo hovering around the building, spreading like a fog as the fire made its way deeper into the plant, feeding off all the oxygen it would want or ever need. There was nothing to stop it now.
He slipped back behind the wheel and drove east.
There was one more thing he needed to do.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
A loud but quick pop, followed by a hiss, was the only warning Adam received that everything in Evergreen was about to change forever. He was sitting on his stoop on that unseasonably warm afternoon, a stack of binders at his feet, one lying open in his lap. Together they constituted the operations manual for the NorthStar plant, and he was doing his best to educate himself about the town’s most important asset.
Solar Array, Salt Tanks, Maintenance, and so on.
The reading was dry, terrible, but absolutely necessary. He’d been reading for hours each day, deciding it would be better to construct a foundation first before poking his head into the technological lion’s den that was the plant’s nerve center. Crawling before walking and all that. It was how he learned. He didn’t consider himself an intellectual giant by any stretch of the imagination, but he’d been blessed with an uncanny memory and an ability to make connections when none seemed apparent. That talent had helped him breeze through medical school and his clinicals. And this, he hoped, would be no different.
He’d been reading since early that morning, when he’d awoken to a smidge of a post-reception headache. Sarah slept until eleven, a rarity for her, and then set off for a meeting with the farming committee at the town hall. They had partied long enough, she’d decided, and it was time to buckle down and make this place work. He’d wanted to consummate the marriage a third time (“just to be sure,” he’d told her), but she’d smacked his bottom playfully and promised there would be time for that later.
As it turned out, there wouldn’t be. Not that day.
The odd noise broke his concentration for the first time in an hour, so he got up out of the chair, placed his hands in the small of his back, and stretched. His back cracked deliciously, and he sighed. As he stood there, satisfied, another pop, this one even louder, echoed across the quiet townscape. This made the hairs on his neck stand up. He ran inside to change and noticed the digital clock on the end table in the living room had winked out. He quickly laced on a pair of heavy hiking boots, his thoughts zeroing quickly on his new bride, a pit forming in his stomach. It had been a long time since he’d had someone in close proximity to worry about, and it frightened him a little.
By the time he stepped out onto the street, he could just make out the fist of black smoke rising in the west. His stomach turned to water. Fire was one of his biggest fears. The town did have a fire station, but its sole truck had been dispatched to a nearby town at the beginning of the outbreak, and it had not returned. On a wing and a prayer, Townsend had said. They were living on borrowed time. He’d known it all along.
And the bill was coming due.
#
He ran west along Evergreen Boulevard, yelling “Fire!” as he went, a regular Paul Revere. Despite the warmth of the day, he felt cold, icy sweat frosting his body. A few others were already moving in the same direction, having seen the smoke curling its way skyward on that December afternoon. They paused a block west of the town hall, near Evergreen High School’s baseball field. He saw a figure running toward them; it was Derek Harris, a lanky man who’d taught in the elementary school.
“It’s the plant!” Harris called out. “The plant’s on fire!”
As Adam bent over breathing hard, his hands on his knees, suddenly aware of what had happened, not wanting to believe it. Someone noticed him pulling up.
“Come on, Adam! We’ve got to go!”
They piled into Derek’s electric car and headed south along the ribbon of asphalt poking out from the edge of town, rising and falling over the undulating plains. Adam sat stone still, catching bits and pieces of the conversation peppering the car, but unable to focus on it for long. Then a huge explosion boomed across the plains.
“Who’s out there today?”
“John and … I can’t remember the other.”
“Felicia. She’s out there.”
“Probably passed out.” This one said in a hushed tone.
Think, dammit, think.
He could see it in their faces, the panic, the fright, and he thought he might have known what all of them had looked like when the world was in the grip of the epidemic. It was a look he had never wanted to see again, but there it was all the same. And just like before, there was nothing they could do. He knew the town was lost as soon as he saw the thick bubble of smoke. Their hopes and dreams had literally gone up in it.
Sarah.
Where was she?
She was smart, she was strong, and he told himself not to worry too much right now. She’d be making sure the townsfolk were remaining calm, looking after the kids. Derek pulled to a stop in the middle of the road about a quarter mile shy of the plant, Adam’s view clear across the empty grasslands.
A huge corona of fire blazed before him, gobbling the power plant like it was a warm hors d’oeuvre. Even from this distance, he had to shield his eyes from the intensity of the flames, a rippling orange and red, nearly hypnotic. The fire swirled about like a demon breaking through a doorway from another dimension. The entire plant was engulfed now. The glass in the panels of the solar array was shattering with a harmonic tinkling. Tongues of flame lapped at the base of the windmills. At first, he didn’t understand how the fire was reaching the wind turbines, but then he realized the blaze was creeping through the underground tunnels and corridors, along the very conduits that carried the power created by the monolithic generators.
How had this happened?
Sarah, Sarah, Sarah.
The image of her face kept flickering in his head, the way pop-up ads had once appeared on a website you were trying to concentrate on. Maybe he kept seeing her because it was just easier to think about her than about the ruin that now lay before them. Although it seemed like they’d just barely gotten here, it really was over now. The lights, the heat, the clean water, everything that made Evergreen special, everything that made it seem like they’d found an oasis in this post-plague hell. Gone. It had been a nice ride, a little respite from the way the world really was. But gone nonetheless.
Another explosion rocked the plant, this one yellow and harsh, like a miniature sun hovering just above the plains. The tang of burning salt reached his nose, and everyone began coughing. It smelled like overcooked meat. Tears in their eyes, people began pulling their collars up over their noses, which made them look like a collection of sad highway bandits.
“Head back to town,” Adam said. “There’s nothing we can do here. Anyone seen Sarah this morning?”
Shakes of the head in reply, their eyes still focused on the destruction of the plant.
“What, honeymoon over already?” Derek asked. There was some levity in the tone, but the attempt to lacquer the disappointment with some joy fell short.
Adam laughed softly.
; “I’m going to go track her down, give her the bad news.”
“I’ll give you a ride,” Derek said.
As they raced back to town, he had the sudden but certain feeling that bad news was going to be waiting for him when he found her.
#
A crowd had formed at the western edge of the baseball stadium, clustered in the outfield, looking out over the short fence toward the blaze. The faces he saw as they cruised past were long indeed, their gazes fixed on the horizon, where the thick black smoke continued billowing skyward, pushed eastward by the very winds they’d relied on to bring them the electricity.
The place already seemed quieter with the power now gone, taken from them a second time. As they passed the park, he was reminded of that awful, terrible quiet in the days after the plague had burned away, when he was adrift, unsure what the hell he was supposed to do, terribly afraid that he was the last man on Earth.
Yesterday, the park had looked good. They’d been using a push mower to keep the grass trimmed, a task that had been sloughed off onto the younger teenagers. Physically, it looked exactly the same this afternoon, but it felt dead, ominous. Derek let Adam off in front of his building. Adam got out and then leaned back in the window.
“What are we gonna do now, chief?” Derek asked.
Adam ran his thumb across the edge of the door.
“I’ve got to take care of something.”
He tapped the roof of the car and stepped back. Derek drove off.
The apartment was empty. He hadn’t expected to find her here, but he wanted to be sure, dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s. He was pretty sure he knew where she was, he was pretty sure he knew who was responsible for the fire, but stopping here had given him a chance to collect his thoughts, delay the inevitable, if only for a few moments. His next stop, he strongly suspected, wasn’t going to be this idyllic.
Time to go, Adam.
Fright washed over him like a salt bath, leaving him dry and bitter. He could taste metal in his mouth.
Before leaving the apartment, he took the gun they’d kept in the drawer of the nightstand.
#
The town hall was just beyond the southeast corner of the park. Its windows glinted in the early afternoon sun like wide, glassy eyes. The throng from the baseball stadium had retreated to the park, chatting, pointing, unsure what to do. The air was sharp with smoke.
For a moment, the thought that Sarah was dead gripped him so tightly it took his breath away. And there was no way to know that she wasn’t. He’d have to press onward. He felt very strongly that whatever the truth was, whatever the future held, lay behind the doors of this building. Glinting and sparkling at him with terrible glee.
He crept up the stairs, staying clear of the door’s line of sight. The heavy door had been propped open, and he leaned his body up against it. As he curled around the edge for a peek, he drew the gun and released the safety. The cold steel felt heavy and reassuring in his hand, buttressing his emotional reserve.
Freddie.
He’d seen it coming all along, the roots buried deep in the soil of their initial meeting, the way they’d clashed about virtually every decision, every step they’d taken along their westward trek. He had hoped to the end that the chill would eventually thaw, that Freddie would see how important he would be in Evergreen, how much he would have to offer. But he’d grown angrier and testier with each passing day. In some ways, their assimilation into Evergreen had made things worse than they’d been out on the road.
Adam slid down the corridor, keeping his back to the wall. Just ahead, on the left, was the public hearing room, the site of Freddie’s electoral embarrassment. That was where Sarah’s meeting with the committee had been scheduled to take place. Sitting halfway down the corridor, between Adam and the room, was Mike Stills. His breathing was shallow, and his right arm, the one closest to Adam, was soaked with blood.
Shit.
Mike turned his head and saw Adam, who nodded at him. Mike returned the nod.
“What happened?” Adam whispered.
Mike mouthed the answer, but the reply was clear enough.
Briggs.
Adam edged closer, closer, until he was at Mike’s flank. He dropped to a knee and began examining Mike’s right arm.
“Tell me,” Adam said.
“Shot me,” he said, grimacing with pain. “Gwen’s dead. Jeff, too. He’s in there with Sarah and Charlotte.” He paused and pressed a hand to his wound. “It’s not as bad as it looks. The bleeding’s stopped. He just nicked me.”
“What the hell does he want?”
“He wants you, actually. Sent me to find you.”
“Meaning?”
“He wants you dead. Palace coup and all. He said he’ll trade them for you.”
“You believe that?”
“No,” Mike said. “He wants you all dead. He wants to run the show.”
Adam massaged his forehead with the heel of his hand. Panic was swelling in him like a balloon. A coup, indeed.
“Did he really do it?” Mike asked. “The power plant?”
Adam nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” Adam said. “He torched it.”
“Fuck,” Mike said. “I was kind of hoping he was bluffing. Going on and on about cutting all ties to the old world.”
“He wasn’t. It’s burning like hell out there. It catches that wind, the whole town might go up. Let’s get you away from the door.”
Mike slung his arm around Adam’s shoulder and climbed to his feet.
“Whatever you’ve got planned, count me in. He’s gotta fucking pay for this.”
“I know.”
So there it was. He had to stop Freddie, even if it killed him. Even if it meant sacrificing his quest to find Rachel. Something had broken inside Freddie. Perhaps it had started as a fissure, a fault line, one that might have remained stable under perfect conditions. But these weren’t perfect conditions now, were they? Maybe the fault had ruptured long ago, when Caroline had died. Maybe it was broken before that, maybe since his family had perished, and the last couple months had been nothing more than lipstick on a pig. Adam couldn’t even fault him for having those feelings.
But that wasn’t the whole picture, the whole ball of wax. Freddie Briggs didn’t get to choose how this new world worked for everyone else. If he wanted to go savage, pretend like the old world had never existed, well, there was a hell of a lot of open ground out there for him to lay a claim to. And today he’d crossed an uncrossable line. He’d made his decision. He was going to have to deal with the consequences.
Adam could feel the anger welling up inside him, but he tamped it down, put a lid on it as best he could so he could focus on the problem at hand. Sarah and Charlotte were in terrible danger. The whole colony was in danger.
“What’s it like in there?”
“I think they’re holed up behind the dais. Townsend’s lying by the podium. Can’t remember where Jeff was when he got hit. Sorry.”
“He doesn’t know I’m here, does he?”
“No,” he said.
“How does he plan to get out?”
“I’m not sure he does. I’m not sure he cares.”
Adam’s stomach flipped, and he felt cold. If what Mike said was true, the chances they all survived this standoff were virtually zero. There had to be a way, he thought. There had to be a way. As he stood there, the edges of a plan began to form in his mind. He had to take the wind out of Freddie’s sails. He had to make Freddie think that he’d won.
“Tell him some folks are back from fighting the fire, and that I went missing trying to put it out. Tell him I was seen running into the control room right before a big explosion.”
“What for?”
“We’ve got to do something to release the pressure,” Adam said. “I really never thought he’d go this far. But he wants to tear everything down.”
“You got that right.”
Three loud booms interrupted them; Freddie was pou
nding on the door.
“Stills! You out there?”
Adam nodded.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Stills replied. “I needed to rest.”
“Any sign of Fisher?”
Adam nodded and drifted back toward the front door. He hated to leave his friends behind, but he didn’t see another option if he wanted to save them.
“Not yet,” Stills said. “I’m going to go look for him now. I’ll be back when I can.”
As he backed out of the door onto the town hall’s ornate front porch, Adam pantomimed stretching out the discussion to Mike, who returned a thumbs up.
“Wait! Some folks are back from the plant, saying he’s missing!”
“Whaddaya mean missing?”
Adam scanned the town square for the best vantage point while he continued to eavesdrop on the discussion. Across Main Street was the diner, its mirrored plate-glass windows reflecting the town hall. Next door to that was a dry cleaner with a large counter that Adam could hide behind.
“Trying to put out the fire! I don’t know what happened. They can’t find him!”
Freddie went silent.
Adam couldn’t afford to wait any longer. His entire plan, rudimentary as it was, depended solely on Freddie believing that he had perished in the blaze. If he could pull that over on him, maybe he’d let the hostages go. Adam didn’t think he wanted them dead. He wanted them to suffer by being alive. He wanted them all to see the world as he saw it, without their precious power plant, without their late-night board games, without the heat blowing up through the vents. He wanted a world that matched his soul.
That much, Adam was certain of.
But if he so much got a whiff that he was being played, that would be it for Sarah and Charlotte. Adam hustled across the street, the acrid tickle of smoke stronger in his nostrils. The wind was blowing east, all right, escorting that fire right toward them. He wondered if there was enough gas out there, enough grass and scrub, to keep the fire alive long enough to make it to their doorstep, to the good eating. All through the town, he could hear shouts and screams of Evergreeners skittering about, running around like chickens who’d been relieved of the burden of their heads.
The Immune Box Set [Books 1-5] Page 41
