Cannibal Reign (33 page)

Fifty-One

N
o one heard a sound within the complex when blast door number one was blown out of its casement, but there was a subtle trembling that quivered through the facility, making everyone within the civilian population aware that they had taken damage. Forrest immediately went on the air to announce that blast door number one had been breached but that the situation was in hand and not to worry. A short time later they barbecued the demolitions team and watched the monitor as the blast blew the tunnel clean. They waited patiently for the enemy to come back down, and when they were certain no more than one man was reentering the tunnel, they barbecued him as well.

“They won’t likely be back for a while.” Forrest fired up a smoke.

“We should sneak into the house now,” Vasquez said. “Take a few of them out and retreat back inside.”

“There’s no need to expose ourselves. We still hold every advantage.”

Kane stepped into the room and offered Forrest a cup of coffee. “Baby’s comin’ pretty soon,” he told Ulrich. “Erin asked me to send you in.”

“Yeah, that’s just what Shannon wants,” Ulrich said. “Me in there staring at her snatch. Message received but I’ll take a pass. Thanks.”

“What’s up with the ventilators?” Forrest asked, sipping his coffee.

“We’re fine so far,” Kane said. “The nonreturn valves we installed worked just like they were supposed to, but we can’t draw fresh air until that damn fuel burns off. And they’ll probably just pour more down.”

“Which means we’ve got as much air as we’re going to get until this is over,” Forrest muttered. He turned to the dozens of tomato plants resting on the shelves against the wall. “Breathe, you little bastards.”

Michael chuckled sardonically. “Has anyone got any idea how many plants it would take to—”

“Three hundred plants per person,” Ulrich said. “Roughly. And we’ve got about fifty total.”

“So how long do we have before we start to suffocate down here?”

“It’s tough to quantify,” Ulrich said. “But for the sake of argument, let’s say about four days.”

“Hey, guys,” Vasquez said, sitting up in his chair to point at one of the monitors. “I think maybe they’re looking for our cameras.”

“Well, that didn’t take long,” Ulrich said.

“Shit, they’ve got the one in the living room.”

The view on the monitor seemed to swing wildly about the living room as the airman pulled the fiber-optic wire from the smoke detector.

“The only camera that matters now is the one in the tunnel,” Forrest said. “And they need Superman to get at that one.”

“I don’t know,” Ulrich said, watching the enemy fan out through the house. “I don’t like the idea not being able to see what they’re up to.”

“There goes the kitchen cam,” Vasquez said. “Front porch too.”

“The aboveground cameras were always a bonus,” Forrest said.

“There go the bedroom cams.”

“Besides, we’ve still got the camera on the antenna array if we get into a pinch.”

“Which is a onetime deal,” Ulrich said. “They’ll snuff that motherfucker the second we extend it.”

Forrest leaned forward to use the P.A., calling Danzig into Launch Control.

“Linus,” he said upon Danzig’s arrival. “It looks like we’re going to need someone on guard in the cargo bay from now on. We’re about to go blind down here. Work out a schedule with Sullivan and Marty, will you? Put those two on the same shift. Kane, you take a shift too. I don’t think any of us are going to be getting any sleep for a while.”

“O
kay, honey, you’re doing fine,” West said, his hands resting on Emory’s knees. “I can see the baby’s head now. You’re crowning beautifully.”

“Shit!” Emory gasped, gripping the edges of the mattress. “It feels like I’m shitting a bowling ball!”

Erin smiled, wiping the sweat from Emory’s forehead with a damp cloth. “You’re doing great.”

Marty stood in the doorway watching.

“Get in here and hold my hand, Marty. What the fuck, I’m dying in here!”

Marty crossed to the bed and took her hand.

“Okay,” West said. “With this next contraction I need you to push for me, Shannon.”

The contraction came and Emory pushed as hard as she could, screaming at the top of her voice.

“Good girl!” West said. “Almost there. One more time, honey.”

Emory waited and pushed one last time, feeling the baby squirt free of her body and groaning aloud.

“It’s a girl!” Erin said, beginning to cry. “It’s a girl, Shannon!”

“Thank God
that’s
fucking over!” Emory said, her voice trembling.

“Almost,” West said with chuckle, handing the baby to Dr. Wilmington so he could tie off and cut the umbilical. The infant began to cry a few seconds later, and after a short while the afterbirth was delivered, allowing West to clean Emory up. Dr. Wilmington cleaned the baby girl and swaddled her in a green cotton Army towel, carrying her over to rest her on Emory’s chest. But Emory closed her eyes and turned her head as if some foul-smelling food had been placed before her.

“Marty, who does she look like?”

“You,” he said softly, looking adoringly at the infant. “She looks like you.”

Emory turned her head slowly and looked at her daughter, at last lifting her arms to touch her. “Hey, you little shithead.”

Erin’s face was covered with tears.

“Pick her up,” Emory told her. “She’s
yours
now.”

“Shannon, are you sure you don’t want her?” Erin said, suddenly sad for the infant. “She’s your daughter, honey. Your flesh and blood.”

“I like her,” Shannon said, holding her gently. “She’s cool. But she’s yours. I don’t want to be a mother. Tell her, Marty.”

“She’s given this a lot of thought,” Marty said quietly. “It’s for the best, Erin.”

“You’ll need to nurse her for as long as possible,” West said. “In this environment, she’ll need every advantage she can get.”

Emory sat against the pillow with the baby in her arms, looking dolefully at him.

“I’m serious, Shannon. It’s really very important. We don’t have any baby formula down here, and powdered milk isn’t going to do at all. Not to mention she needs the immunities only you can give her.”

“All right,” Emory said reluctantly. “You can go now, Marty. I don’t need you staring at my tits.” She bared one of her breasts, and West helped her cradle the baby and position the nipple in her mouth. The infant took to the nipple at once and began to suckle like a hungry puppy.

“That’s a small mercy,” West said with a glance at Erin. “They don’t always take to it this fast.”

“Hey, that feels pretty good,” Emory said with a grin. “It’s been a while. Maybe this won’t be so bad.”

Erin couldn’t help laughing. “Shannon, really.”

“W
ell that’s it,” Ulrich said, rising from his chair as the last outside camera was discovered on the roof of the house and wrapped around with tape. “They’ve blinded us.”

“I wonder why they taped them off instead of destroying them,” Michael said.

“This way they can communicate with us later on,” Forrest said, drinking from another cup of coffee. “Threaten us with imminent destruction.” He looked at his watch. “Be dark soon. We can raise the antenna just before sunup, maybe get a quick look at first light and then lower it again before they spot it. It’s far enough away, they may not notice.”

“I’ve got an idea I like better,” Kane said.

“Which is?”

“Call Broken Arrow about 0400 then go up and finish the job by hand. We’re bound to catch a lot of ’em asleep in the house.”

“That’s what Broken Arrow is?” Michael said. “Engaging them hand-to-hand?”

“Partly,” Forrest said. “But I don’t like it yet. Those trailers are out of range. We can’t risk a protracted firefight.”

“But how soon before we’re in a use-it-or-lose-it situation?” Ulrich said. “We won’t know where they’re snooping around up there now. What if they find the lift?”

“I’m not too worried,” Forrest said. “Tactically speaking, Moriarty’s already fucked up.” He set the coffee cup down and shook another cigarette loose. “He
could
have played this like they didn’t know about the cameras. They
could
have pretended to prepare for something he didn’t really intend to do . . . make us prepare for something that was never going to happen. But this idiot’s no tactician. He’s a fucking supply officer, and he doesn’t scare me. So no Broken Arrow except as a last resort . . . unless you’d like to call for another vote there, Wayne.”

“Jack,” Ulrich said, pausing before stepping into the hall. “Go fuck yourself.”

Fifty-Two

“W
hat if we flood the basement?” suggested a member of Moriarty’s staff. “Flood the tunnel and set the charges underwater.”

Moriarty sat looking at the man, glancing at Edelstein before sitting forward in his chair. “That’s a pretty good idea, Howard—except for the fact we’ve got no water and no goddamn scuba gear.” He pointed at the door. “Get the hell out of here, you moron!”

Howard stood from his chair, saluted and left the trailer.

Moriarty looked at the other four. “The next one of you who comes up with an idea like that, just shoot yourself and save me the trouble. Flood the goddamn basement!”

One of the cooks came in later and set a mess tray of blackish meat on the table. “I put a lot of cayenne on it this time. I think it’s better.”

Moriarty picked up a piece of the meat and took a bite. “A little spicy but not bad. Who is this?”

“It’s Lieutenant Ford, sir.”

“Poor fucker,” Moriarty said, licking his fingers. “He was a good man.”

“Have you come up with a way of getting into the complex?” the cook asked.

“No.”

“Too bad we don’t have any way of getting that Cat out here,” the cook said, turning for the door.

“What Cat?” Moriarty said.

“There was a D-8 along the highway on the way here. We could dig right down to the main complex with it. Blow our way in.”

Moriarty looked at Edelstein. “Would that work?”

“The concrete shell is six feet thick,” Edelstein said. “It would take a while, but with the explosives we have and a couple of jackhammers . . . yeah, I think it would work. It’s worth a try.”

“That’s it, then,” Moriarty said, getting to his feet. “Take a company of men and go get that goddamn bulldozer!”

Fifty-Three

I
t was late
and Melissa sat in the hall with Laddie asleep beside her on the deck, her
laptop against her knees as she stared at a simple cipher on the computer
screen.

1-1 (Line 1, first letter) = A

4-6 (Line 4, sixth letter) = Y

etc.

The first numeral of a set denoted which line to
reference, and the second numeral denoted which specific letter within that line
to reference. This was the rudimentary alphabetic cipher Ulrich had shown her
months earlier when she first expressed an interest in trying to decipher the
code they were now listening in on as many as four nights a week. She had since
tried dozens of variations on it, most recently:

She always attempted to match them against the same
string of code that one of the telegraphers signed on with at the beginning of
each transmission:

And always came
up with nothing but gibberish.

One of her notable problems—among many others—was
the numeral 9. No matter how she arranged the letters, she couldn’t come up with
a workable alphabetical value for the numeral 9. She asked Ulrich about it, but
he hadn’t been very helpful. He told her the 9s could have any one of a million
different values—or even be complete gibberish to throw off a cryptologist.

She was frustrated with Ulrich, firmly believing
that if he would just help her, they could crack the code.

“Okay, listen,” he said to her late one night in
Launch Control when she had resumed work on the code at the console. “Do you
know the Lord’s Prayer? ‘Yea, though I walk’ . . . and all
that.”

“That’s not the Lord’s Prayer,” she said, laughing.
“That’s the Twenty-third Psalm. The Lord’s Prayer is ‘Our Father, which art in
Heaven
. . .
’ ”

“Whatever. Go get a Bible and copy it down, a line
at a time.”

“Which one? The Lord’s Prayer or the Twenty-third
Psalm?”

He looked at her and narrowed his eyes, not having
the patience with her that Forrest had. “ ‘Yea, though I walk . . .’
”

“Jeez!” she said with another laugh. “You’d better
learn to have some patience if you’re gonna be a dad, Wayne.”

“Go get the Bible, kid.”

“I don’t need it,” she said, lifting her
pencil.

“And always number the lines,” he told her. “That
will make it easier for you to reference them as you’re deciphering.”

“Got it.” She wrote out the Psalm from memory.

1. The Lord is my
Shepherd I shall not want.

2. He maketh me to lie
down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

3. He restoreth my soul:
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

4. Yea, though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art
with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

5. Thou preparest a table
before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou annointest my head with oil;
my cup runneth over.

6. Surely goodness and
mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house
of The Lord forever.

“Okay, so now what?” she said, showing him the
paper.

Ulrich took the paper and wrote a quick string of
code at the bottom of the page:

1-10 / 2-2 / 3-16 / 1-9 / 6-1 / 6-1 / 4-3 __
1-9 / 6-1 __ 4-3 __ 5-5 / 4-3 / 1-9 / 6-11

“Now decipher that,” he said. “And keep in mind,
the blank spaces are arbitrary. They hold no value of their own. I could just as
easily have written it without the spaces, but I’m making it ridiculously easy
for you.”

It was immediately apparent to Melissa that he had
used the line number for the first value of each letter and then just counted
spaces for the second value, coming up with:

M/E/L/I/S/S/A_I/S_A_P/A/I/N.

“Ha ha,” she said. “I’m telling Erin.”

“You probably will,” he said with a chuckle. “Look,
kid, the point I’m making is they don’t have to use a simple alphabetic cipher.
They could use
anything
. Any agreed-upon text just
like this one here. And the letters in the code they’re using don’t have to be
limited to double-digit values. They could apply to page number, paragraph
number, line number, word number, and finally letter number if they wanted
to—which would give each single
letter
in the
message a value of
five
digits. So . . .
do you see how many possibilities exist just within that single string of code
you keep going over? There could be as many as thirty-two letters in it or as
few as sixteen—just from that one example.”

“But that would take time to translate, and you
said they’re talking fast.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. “But if they’re only
using a few pages of the text—which would be logical—they could easily have it
memorized by now. So, while I do believe it’s a simple code in terms of
numerical values, it could still be impossible for a person to crack without a
computer program.”

“But not necessarily . . .”

“No, not necessarily, but the trouble is we have no
way of knowing. So why waste thousands of hours trying to crack a code only to
find out that it’s impossible? Especially when we already know that it probably
is
impossible.”

“But what if these people might be able to help
us?”

“Honey, whoever they are, they are in no more of a
position to help us than we are to help them. Believe me. And there’s a very
good chance of them being hostile, so we couldn’t risk breaking radio silence
before we
at
least
knew what the hell they’ve been talking about
all these months.”

Melissa had not been even slightly deterred by
Ulrich’s discouraging opinion of her chances. In fact, she only grew that much
more determined. She saw a definite pattern within the code, even if only in her
mind’s eye. She just couldn’t quantify it yet, and she continued to be very
frustrated with herself, knowing that with a little more mathematical skill she
could crack the damn thing and maybe—just maybe—find them some help before they
were forced to eat rat meat in order stay alive . . . or worse,
starve.

Forrest stepped around the open blast door and
crouched beside her, petting Laddie, who came instantly awake. “I’d feel better
if you two were in the common area with the others. The kids are asleep
now.”

“I can’t concentrate with everyone around,” she
said, her eyes fixed on the screen. “I’m close, Dad. I can feel it.”

Melissa had taken to calling him Dad a bit more
often now, and it pulled at his heart every time. Veronica had remarked in
private that she thought Melissa might have used the moniker to manipulate him
in certain instances, which spawned their first genuine argument. She had only
meant to imply that all girls manipulated their fathers to a certain degree, but
Forrest accused her of being jealous.

“How dare you accuse me of being jealous of a
sixteen-year-old girl!”

“She’s never made a single unreasonable request,
Veronica. There isn’t even anything down here unreasonable to ask for, for
Christ’s sake.”

“Never mind,” she had said. “You’re obviously too
sensitive where Melissa’s concerned. I won’t bring her up again.”

After that they hadn’t spoken for an entire
day.

“I’d like you to move into the common area anyway,”
he said to Melissa now. “This tunnel’s supposed to be sealed in case there’s an
emergency.”

“Can’t I—”

“What did I say?” he said, speaking crossly with
her for the first time.

She looked up from her work, a hurt expression in
her eyes, and closed the computer, gathering her papers together. He offered her
his hand and helped her to her feet. Laddie got up with her and stretched.

Forrest sealed the door and they moved into the
common area, allowing Laddie to trot deftly ahead of them through the sleeping
children. On his way to Melissa’s bedroll near the wall, the dog stopped to
sniff a couple of the kids, then curled up on his own bed made from folded
blankets. Melissa put the computer into its box, unzipped her bag, and sat down
to untie her shoes.

“You don’t have to go to bed,” he said quietly.

“I’m tired,” she said, without looking up at him,
pulling the flap of the bag over her legs. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he said, and turned to walk away.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for making you mad.”

“You didn’t make me mad. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she said, and turned over to go to
sleep.

Laddie got back up and followed Forrest into in the
cafeteria, where Veronica was sitting up with Erin and the infant, whom thus far
didn’t seem to have a name. Erin had just brought the babe from her feeding in
Medical, and now the child was sound asleep, swaddled in Erin’s arms. Laddie
sniffed at the infant and sat wagging his tail.

“No, she’s not yours yet,” Erin said with a smile.
“You’ll have to wait a couple of years.”

There was no one sleeping in the cafeteria because
the complex was on a war footing. All civilians were to remain in one of the two
conjoined common areas at all times except for while preparing food in the
kitchen to be served in the common areas.

“So, E, are you an official mom now or what?”
Forrest asked, taking a seat beside Veronica.

“Shannon says so.”

“You don’t seem exactly thrilled.”

“Oh, I am,” she said. “It just doesn’t feel real
yet, you know? With Shannon nursing her every couple of hours and those maniacs
trying to get in. I feel more like a nanny, I guess.”

“Give her to Karen, then,” he said. “I know she’d
love to have her.”

“Over my cold dead body, Jack Forrest.”

He laughed. “You sure sound like a mother to
me.”

“You never pass up the chance to get a rise out of
me, do you?”

“Nope.” He gave a Veronica a kiss. “How’s my
girl?”

“Worried,” Veronica said.

“Don’t be. That’s my job.”

“Yet you never do.”

“That’s because it’s much more productive to
act.”

“Well, Wayne’s worried,” Erin said. “He says not,
but I know him. He’s as worried as I’ve ever seen him, in fact.”

“He’s just a pussy.”

Veronica slapped him on the arm.

“He’s called Wayne lots worse, V. Believe me. And
vice versa. You’d think they hated each other the way they talk to one another.
It’s disgusting.”

“I do hate him,” Forrest said, pretending to shake
a cigarette from his pack, watching for Erin’s reaction.

“You even
try
smoking
around this baby . . .”

He tucked the cigarettes back into his trouser
pocket and gave Veronica a wink.

“What’s going on in the cargo bay?” Erin asked.
“Wayne won’t tell me.”

“We’re just making sure nobody cuts through the
lift elevator.”

“No, before all this,” Veronica said. “All five of
you have been spending more time in there than normal lately.”

“Don’t think we haven’t noticed, Jack.”

“I can describe it in two words,” he said with a
smile. “ ‘Top Secret.’ ”

Erin rolled her eyes. “At least Wayne has guts
enough to say it’s none of our business.”

When Erin left, Forrest said quietly, “You were
right about Melissa.”

“What do you mean?”

“A couple weeks ago when you said she manipulates
me once in a while.”

“Oh, well . . .”

“It’s not really a big deal, though.”

She put her arm around him and kissed his neck. “I
never tried to imply that it was. She’s a teenage girl. Every woman down here
was like that at her age.”

“Well, I’d rather think of her as completely
innocent.”

She laughed and kissed him again. “You and every
man who’s ever had a daughter.”