CICADA: A Stone Age World Novel (15 page)

“Yes, we believe so,” Monty said. “We believe this is the reason our environment suffered so badly this past year, and why what should have been a one-time event is actually a seemingly permanent series of smaller events with each solar emission.”

Preston looked sick.

“Wait, who would do dis?” Magdalena’s latent Mexican accent mingled with her otherwise near-perfect English, as seemed to happen when she was anxious.

“We don’t know who. We only know where.”

Max grabbed Preston’s lab coat sleeve and pulled him aside while the others loudly discussed their theories.

“Are you all right?”

“It’s just too shocking.” Preston’s head was pointed down, as if he were trying to prevent himself from tossing his breakfast.

“I know who is doing this.”

Preston’s head snapped to Max. “Who?”

“There is a copy of Cicada out there. And we need to stop them.”

“But maybe they don’t know what they’re doing. Maybe they’re just trying to create power… wait, how did you know who?”

Max looked at Preston curiously, not sure why he accepted the premise so quickly.

“I know, because I have their plans back at my office. They call themselves Bios-2.”

Slowly, she inched her head past the edge of the wall and peered down the hallway, and then drew back. “Dammit!” she whispered. She had to get into her apartment and talk to Carrington, if he was even there. Yet, in front of their apartment, stood Simon, the comic-book-reading sentry.

Her mind fishtailed like a Formula One racer losing control in the curves.
What could she do now? How would she get into her apartment? Then what? Westerling knew that she had been at the office waiting room and left, but would he know that she heard anything? If he didn’t, then why the guard? Oh my God, this is real!

She still couldn’t get over the revelation that Cicada was active, when they had all been told it was a dead zone. Then Westerling made a deal with the red-robed man to march his army to Cicada and kill its inhabitants, and she couldn’t even decide how to get into her apartment. She needed to do something, rather than helping these murderers as they had been for the past year in exchange for safety. At a minimum, they could no longer stay here, and they had to get to Cicada while it was still there. But how? She had to confer with Carrington and with her colleagues. She felt the bile rise up in her throat as she almost turned in these same colleagues.

First things first… She had to get Simon away from their apartment door.
But how?

Carrington walked briskly to Supplies, conveniently located on the same floor as the entrance to B216. He was a little out of breath, even though he was in pretty good shape from a combination of lots of walking and lean eating. A far cry from the junk-food-fueled sedentary lifestyle he lived pre-Event.

Almost there, Carrington continued to look behind him to make sure no one was following. Although he now had carte blanche to patrol most of the areas while he was supposedly working on his plan to provide a power generation solution to Bios-2, he still didn’t want to come under their scrutiny. At least not until he could find out what was in that mystery room and hide the bomb he was carrying. This was their fallback. If they found out that they were being lied to, as they still suspected, or if they believed they were unsafe, he would blow the CPF turbine and they would leave. But leaving a bomb in their apartment was too risky.

He had thought of the Supplies room this morning, and Mel agreed it was the perfect place. The room was vast, actually comprising many rooms. It was guarded, with many authorized personnel coming and going all the time signing in and out with the supplies they needed or were returning. As one of the “authorized personnel,” he could place the package where it would lie undisturbed until they needed it. And if it was ever found, no one would know its origins. He would also grab what he needed to get into the mystery room.

At the entrance, an older man with discerning eyes sat behind a barred window reading a dog-eared copy of
Lucifer’s Hammer
by Niven.

“Hello, Mr. Richards, I’m Dr. Carrington Reid, number S227A, here to pick up one notepad, an electric motor and a nanovoltmeter. Also to drop off an electric clock I repaired.”

“Sign in, Dr. Reid, and I’ll need to check your backpack both in and out,” Richards said in an almost disinterested voice. He slid open a small door beside the barred window.

Carrington unslung his backpack and pushed it through the door. Hopeful that neither the bag nor he would be scrutinized much, he hastily printed his name and community-assigned ID number/room number, and signed his name on the clipboard; Richards had already filled in the date and time. Beside the Drop-Off box was written
clock
and in the Pick-Up box was written
Nano-Meter, motor & notepad
. He slid the clipboard back through the opening under the bars and his backpack was pushed back through the small window.

An entrance door clicked open, and Carrington grabbed his backpack and walked through.

Richards bored holes in Carrington’s back, watching him march down a long aisle between large shelves, until he turned out of sight.

“Washington!” she yelled through her cupped hands, in her deepest male-sounding voice. “Washington, get your ass down here. I need your help in the men’s latrine.”

Footsteps slowly approached. “Sir, I’m com—”

“Now, Washington; get your ass down here,” she projected into the hall, and then ducked behind the ladies’ room door and waited.

His running
clomp-clomp-clomp
rumbled toward her, and then squeaked to a halt before the men’s entrance banged open. “Sir?” A muffled voice asked, unsure.

Melanie cracked her door, satisfied the bluff worked, and sprinted silently down the hall to her apartment.

After grabbing what was needed and depositing his package at a place near the back on a dusty bottom shelf, Carrington turned the corner to face the security door and felt assaulted once again by Richard’s scornful gaze, like walking into the sunlight without protective clothing.

Richards kept scrutinizing his backpack, as if he were sure Carrington was hiding something.

He was. Carrington clutched his side, attempting to suppress the bulge of a stolen radio and handheld Taser hidden under his clothes.

“Okay, you can go. Sign here,” he said, handing him the clipboard.

Two swishes of the pen, and Carrington tossed it back and hurried out the door before he did something that would somehow betray him further. With long strides, he returned to the turbine room via the innocuous B216 entrance. As he slowed his pace down the steps, he wiped away the wetness that streamed down his face and moved the radio and Taser to his backpack before they shorted out.

Because one of the guards was standing where he had intended to stand and observe, he instead walked to the Shaft Room, looking back at Harry, who was there guarding his mystery room’s entrance. Carrington turned and checked around for others. It was empty. He checked again and Harry was still there, so he strolled to a doorway at the end of the room—maybe it was another way to get into the mystery room? Inside, it seemed considerably cooler. He would have to explore this further, when he had the time.

He pulled out the notepad and pretended to jot down copious notes about his research. But he was more interested in the personnel and guard traffic marching back and forth in the rooms. He walked back to the stairwell and stood for a while in a nook, watching. It was a perfect spot because he was somewhat hidden by the shadow of the nook, and the bathroom was there. Very inconspicuous.

In his notebook, he wrote,
Shaft Room door!
on the first page, along with a couple other observations. Then above this, he sketched the infinity symbol.

Because the machinery was pretty well designed, it didn’t appear to need much maintenance. So, other than the occasional scientist racing to lunch, there weren’t a lot of personnel down here. The guards were pretty stationary. Only one rotated every half hour between the turbine room and the Shaft Room and back. Guard #2 just rotated out of the main turbine room and was now out of his field of vision. That left Harry, the mystery room’s guard.

Carrington reached into his backpack and pulled out the radio, identical to the ones the guards and other Bios-2 personnel use. He clicked to channel five, remembering that was Harry’s radio setting.

He’d overheard many conversations over months, so he knew what to say. “Henderson, this is Andrews; we need you in Operations in five minutes. Mr. Westerling wants a detail and requested you for point. I will take over your watch.” Carrington let go of the talk button and listened.

“I’ll leave as soon as you relieve me,” said Harry.

“You’re wanted now. I will be there as soon as I finish my rounds in less than two.”

Carrington waited patiently, knowing he would reply “Roger that.”

Harry raced up the stairs, barely noticing the scientist wearing a fedora scribbling notes on a note pad.

Melanie closed the door quietly behind her and slid the deadbolt home. She looked for Carrington in every room, but he definitely wasn’t there. “Where are you, my love?” she said softly to the empty apartment.

In their designated hiding place, in front of a vent grate, behind a table, she found a note. She looked around; it was force of habit, even though she knew there were no cameras, only bugs.

Dearest Mel,

I wanted to tell you this in person, but you weren’t here, and I didn’t have any time to waste. I hope you’ll forgive my actions.

I have already started my project down in the basement of this facility today. It’s possible that what they are telling us is correct, but something is just not adding up in my mind. And I just don’t trust these people. I found a room that is restricted, even to me. It should be part of the geothermal production, but it isn’t. So, why the secret and what is it? I don’t have any idea what it might be, but it is so suspicious, I have to check it out. You know me, “trust but verify.”

I’m worried though if I am caught sneaking around this area, especially since it is guarded, what might happen to me, or us. Please know I wouldn’t take this chance unless I thought it was important to both of us. If we need to escape, then we need to know right away.