CICADA: A Stone Age World Novel (29 page)

Max hollered to his people below. “Get away from the gate. Get away from the gate!” Knowing what was coming next, he tossed himself onto the wall’s stony walkway. The bomb hit the moment he did.

The explosion nearly shook him off the wall and over the railing.

As with the previous strike, the gate tilted inward. Almost immediately, using the dusty haze and smoke from the blast as cover, a few of the red-robes were coming through. He fired a few shots as he bounded down the stairwell.

More and more trickled in; some were now coming over the walls.

He yelled to the wall sentries, “Retreat.” They echoed his command and started down their corresponding stairwells out of the line of fire and headed for the Rec Facility.

This was their last line of defense before Plan B.

On top of the Rec Facility, their own sharpshooters fired at each person who slid over the wall, as still others were coming through the gate.

At that moment, Max realized Cicada might fall.

Johnson had seen the sign and dashed toward Operations. He passed panicked residents and sentries running to their backup position. But it would be no use for them; after he did his job, there would be no saving Cicada. It would fall within the hour.

Melanie made sure she could wedge the piece of conduit in between the gamma radiation venting and what she suspected was another crucial piece of the reactor. The one thing Carrington hadn’t left in his notes was any detail on where to position the conduit with the explosive inside, so as to focus the detonation and make sure the damage was absolute in those two places. But she figured any place was a sweet spot on this thing. And with Westerling and Lunder out of the way, she didn’t think anyone else would attempt to rebuild it; who else in this world would be that monstrous? Further, based on the radioactive warning signs, and what she knew about nuclear reactors, she suspected her efforts might have the added benefit of making Bios-2 uninhabitable for everybody for a long time.

It looked like Carrington had set the detonator to the alarm switch of the clock; when the alarm went off, so would the detonator and its explosive charge, now concentrated through the conduit on two spots of the reactor. She set the alarm for 1:00, figuring that three hours should be more than enough time to get the scientists out and get clear of this area. After sliding it into the conduit and wedging the conduit in place, she examined her work. It looked like it belonged there.

She backed away and walked out of the room, feeling good about this. Now she would try to get the scientists out. She hoped Rush got her note under the rock by his door and took the rest of the scientists to the rendezvous point.

“Mommy, is Crapaw coming too?” asked Leanne, her hand fidgeting in her mother’s.

“Yes, Leanne. Your Crapaw is coming,” Deanna coaxed her with a smile and a soft tug, pulling her a little closer. Her daughter loved her grandpa. She just wished she could tell her the truth: that he was a horrible, evil man. She hated her father for so many things, many she didn’t dare even think about because they were too awful. At least he would do anything to keep his granddaughter safe. She supposed that her keeping up appearances—even in a constant state of inebriation—was better than being outside Bios-2’s walls. But, was it any better being a prisoner inside them? It was all too much to handle. She needed a drink, bad.

Her buzz was wearing out and, with it, the fuzzy memories of what her father had done were becoming clearer, like blurry images coming into focus in binoculars. Then there was the painful throbbing at the base of her skull, the distant thunder of an approaching migraine. She either needed to get away from these two guards so she could visit her purse, or get to the bunker, which had a fully stocked bar.

She turned to one of the guards. “Are we close?” She somewhat feared she’d never find her way if she ever left to use a bathroom. The hallways were a maze that went on forever.

“Yes ma’am; it’s one more hallway down this way,” the handsome guard said as he pointed.

Deanna’s purse slipped and she let go of Leanne to keep it from hitting the ground. She had snatched a bottle of her father’s bourbon, and she didn’t want it to break and advertise her theft to anyone with a nose (and also ruin her chances of a drink).

“Whew,” she said under her breath, glad she grabbed it just in time.

She heard a giggle behind her and saw Leanne was gone.

“Dammit, Leanne; you get back here right now!” she shrieked, but Leanne didn’t answer.

She heard a door close down a hallway they had just passed and took off running, followed closely by one of the two panicked guards.

So far so good
.

Melanie was surprised that there were so few guards around: none in the turbine room and none in the hallways. She was about to congratulate herself when she heard voices pouring down the hallway right in front of her. She didn’t want to return to B216 and the turbine room, so she ducked into B233A and pulled on the door to speed up its closure, she added resistance at the end to keep it quiet.

Immediately she heard someone say, “I saw her go down this way. She really clocked you, Richards, and you’re hand is bleeding a lot.”

An older, deeper voice replied, just behind the door she held closed. “Let’s continue this way,” Richards said. “I have a feeling.” Their footsteps faded down the way she had come. She cracked open the door, looked at the T she was headed to and then back, confirming that Richards—she had thought he’d have bled to death or at least be sleeping off her concussion-gift for hours—had in fact left. Feeling safe, she hurried back into the hallway and collided with someone small. It was Leanne!

“Hey, sweetie, what are you doing here?” Melanie had bent down to looked at the little face. She was still wearing the necklace she had given her.

Leanne looked behind her, and then dashed into B233A with a giggle. Melanie followed.

“Leanne, what are we doing in here?”

“I’m playing hide and seek,” she stated as if it was obvious to the world, and then ran behind the cluttered desk in the small office.

Melanie knew she couldn’t leave her, and she couldn’t take her along. “Come on, Leanne. We need to get you to your mom—”

The door popped open and someone bounded in.

Automatically reaching for the Glock in her waistband, she realized just before firing it was Deanna.

“There you are, you stinker,” Deanna said, barely regarding Melanie or her gun and walking over to the desk where Leanne’s little face was sticking out. Deanna plopped herself down beside her daughter on the floor and propped open her purse in her lap.

“Great,” Melanie said standing up, “now that you two are together, I can leave.” She reached for the door.

“Hey, Mel.” Deanna unscrewed the cap of a bottle of bourbon and took a swig, eyes rolling back. “Ahhhh, that’s the ticket.” Then as if nothing had happened, Deanna stated, “Oh it’s just the two guards my dad assigned to me.” She took another swig.

“Shhh,” Melanie pleaded, her hand flapping like a bird. She held the door open just a crack, her ear only slightly exposed to anyone walking by. She heard several men running their way. She closed the door and scurried to Deanna and Leanne, who were sitting together, watching her.

“I told you,” Deanna said too loudly, “it’s just the two idiots protecting me. Hey do you think—”

“Shhhh,” Melanie flapped both hands at them, one holding her Glock.

“Yeah-yeah,” Deanna whispered. “But do you think Buddy—you know, the hunky guard—is cute?” And then she was quiet as several men’s voices came from the other side of the door.

“Sir, I’m sure they went this way.”

“If you lost my daughter and granddaughter, I will fillet your skin off and feed you to the cannibals myself.”

Westerling!
Melanie thought. Her mouth popped open, head fell back, eyes shuttered.
That bastard is still alive?

She held her gun up to punctuate her resolve and rose to finish it once and for all, when Leanne spouted, “It’s Cra—” Deanna’s hand clapped over the child’s mouth.

“Did you hear that?” said one of the other voices, outside the door.

“Did it come from an office or down the hall? My damn hearing is still ringing from the explosion,” Westerling groused.

“Down the hallway, sir, I think,” said another tentative voice.

Multiple footsteps ran away and down the hallway.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” asked Deanna. She stood up, holding Leanne’s hand, her bottle back in her purse. “Please take us with. We won’t be a bother. I just have to get us away from my father. He’s an evil man, you know?”
Oh, sister, you have no clue, do you?
thought Mel.

She was tempted to leave them, hunt the bastard down and finish the job Carrington started. But twice, Deanna had asked for her help to escape. And Melanie wanted to make sure the other scientists got out. What difference did it make if there were two more? Besides, it would really piss off Westerling, and this place was about to become radioactive. She couldn’t leave them.

“Fine, let’s get moving. But both of you need to be quiet.”

They slipped out the door and hurried down the hallway toward their way out.

“Brother John,” announced Ben, another apostle of the Teacher and a good warrior. “We have taken Bios-2. The occupants are running and hiding. But, otherwise, we are meeting only little resistance. A few men reported some of the guards going into that building.” He pointed to one of the taller structures they were standing near. “Do I have your permission to hunt them down?”

Two other leaders of the one-quarter of God’s Army that the Teacher had left him listened attentively, waiting for John’s commands.

“Yes, Brother Ben, find them.” Then to all three he said, “If anyone resists or has a weapon, shoot them; no exceptions.”

They all left John, who eyeballed the complex, which was so much larger on the inside than it looked on the outside—and it looked huge outside.

If the Teacher was successful with Cicada, perhaps he would let John command Bios-2, his own little kingdom. In a way, just as he had been trying to convince the Teacher and all the Teacher’s followers, he was like a god. Even if his own heaven was a beat-up giant complex and a few hundred people, he felt godlike at this moment.