Dream Sky (30 page)

He looked around the room before launching into what he’d really come to say. “Without outside help, none of you would be alive today. I’m not saying that to gain a cheap pat on the back. I’m saying it because it is a fact. It’s also a fact that others like you are out there. We have people scattered around the globe trying to help them, but we can’t be everywhere.” He could see he had everyone’s full attention now. “I’d like to tell you about one of the survival stations and what’s been happening there…”

__________

P
AX’S STORY ABOUT
Los Angeles was greeted with shocked stares and more than a few tears. Even though Robert and his fellow Isabella Island survivors had seen firsthand what Project Eden could do, it still seemed so incredible, so unbelievably horrible.

Robert could barely hold in his own emotions upon hearing about people who had voluntarily gone to the station, thinking they were going to get help, only to have their lives taken. Estella was a wreck, leaning against him, her wet cheeks pressed against his arm.

When Pax finished the story, he said, “I tell you all this because we have an opportunity here to do something right. At least twenty people are still being held there that we can get out. We have some people on the ground keeping an eye on things, but there are too few of them to make a move. What we need is help, and that’s why I’ve come to you.”

“Wait, are you—what do you call it?—forcing us into your army?” The question came from Bertrand Tailler, the same asshole who had almost made Robert miss the plane. He was sitting alone in the back corner.

“No, not at all,” Pax told him in a much calmer voice than Robert would have used. “What I’m saying is, we need volunteers. Military training is a plus, but it’s not necessary. If you don’t want to volunteer, that’s completely fine. No judgment. Any questions?”

There were a few, mostly about the danger involved.

“Yes, there’s a chance someone will get hurt.” Pax said. “Will anyone die? It’s a distinct possibility. This isn’t the old world anymore. Our lives will never be as comfortable as they used to be.”

“You expect people to volunteer to die?” Bertrand said. “Good luck with that.”

“Thank you,” Pax said, ignoring the sarcasm. “Anyone else have something they want to say?”

A few indistinct whispers, but no more questions.

“All right, then. We’ll do this the simple way. If you’re willing to volunteer, raise your hand.”

No hands shot up.

Robert looked around, wondering what was wrong with these people. Pax and his friends had saved them. If the Resistance needed help, they should get it.

That’s when he realized he had yet to raise his own hand. He lifted it into the air. He didn’t know how much help he could be—he’d been scared to death when he went after the hijackers on the
Albino Mer
—but he figured he could do something.

Estella sat up straight and raised her own hand.

__________

A
SH WATCHED AS
hands rose like a reverse game of tumbling dominoes. Even two of the people who’d become sick after receiving the vaccine, but had improved enough to come to the meeting, volunteered. Pax thanked them but excused them from service.

Ash and Pax had been hoping for fifteen people. The final tally was thirty-seven.

They gave everyone time to gather their things, then loaded the volunteers onto one of the buses that had ferried the group up from Las Vegas. With Pax behind the wheel, they headed for Ward Mountain, where everyone would be equipped as best as possible before heading for the airplanes that would take them to Los Angeles.

A few miles out of Ely, Pax reached under his seat and pulled out the bag he’d brought along. “Sat phone’s ringing,” he said, tossing the pack over to where Ash was standing.

Ash pulled the phone out and hit
ACCEPT
.

“This is Ash.”

“What the hell happened to you?” Chloe did not sound happy. “I’ve been trying to call you for like an hour.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong,” she said. “Caleb’s decoded the entire message.”

“Fantastic. What’s it—”

“Do you want to know the best part?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“Fine, I’ll wait until you get back. You are coming back, aren’t you?”

“What’s the best part?”

It wasn’t hard to imagine the sly smile on her face as she said, “I said when you get back.”

“Chloe!”

“Okay, okay. We know where Dream Sky is.”

WARD MOUNTAIN NORTH

W
HILE ASH HAD
expected Chloe to be with Caleb when he and Pax entered the conference room, Rachel’s presence was a surprise.

He almost asked if she was all right but stopped himself. Instead, he said, “I’m glad to see you.”

She nodded, a quick, humorless smile gracing her lips.

Pax walked up to her and put his arms around her, whispering something Ash couldn’t hear.

When they parted, she said, “Thank you.” In a louder voice, “We should start.”

Chloe looked at Caleb. “Tell them.”

“Right. Okay, so some of the messages were confusing the hell out of me,” Caleb said as he grabbed one of the journals on the table. He flipped through a few pages, then turned the book so everyone could see. It was one of entries that had a sequence of numbers at the end. He pointed at the numbers. “Every once in a while when I decrypted one of these, there would still be a few numbers left. Anywhere from one to three digits. At first I figured they were placeholders and concentrated on the bigger messages.”

“And?” Ash asked.

Caleb traded the journal for a well-used legal pad. “I’ve got all the messages right here.” He tossed it into the center of the table. “It’s one sided, though. Just the responses Matt received. As far as I can tell, he didn’t keep a record of his side of things. Still, you can pretty much figure out what they were talking about.

“The earlier messages all concern the what and where of DS. And before you ask, he never says Dream Sky, only uses the initials and sometimes not even that. At one point, C8 says he thinks it might be a secret supply dump. Later he suggests it’s a weapon of some kind. He throws out a bunch of other possibilities, too. Apparently Matt had an idea of what it was, but C8 didn’t agree. He kept saying things like there was no way Matt was right, and he could find no proof of Matt’s theory, and even went so far as to tell Matt that he had to be wrong and they were wasting time pursuing the idea. They did agree that from the secrecy surrounding it, it seems to be a key to the Project’s success. They don’t mention why they believe this, but if you read between the lines, it’s pretty clear it’s based on something Matt had known when he was still on the inside. Which, by the way, still blows my mind that he was part of them. How could he hide it from—”

“Stick to the subject,” Chloe told him before Ash could say something similar.

“Oh, right.” Caleb glanced at Rachel. “Sorry.” He took a moment to regain his composure before restarting. “Several years ago, C8 changed his tune, and began saying that they’d been wrong. That DS didn’t exist. I mean, he really tried to sell Matt on it. It was like something spooked him and he didn’t want any part of it.” He smiled. “Interestingly, it was around this time he started including the odd stray numbers in his messages.” Caleb gestured at the pad. “Matt asked him about the extras and why they didn’t work into the code. C8 played them off as nothing important, which, as I was first going through them, was exactly what I was thinking.”

“But they weren’t filler,” Rachel said.

Caleb grinned again. “No, they were not. But I wouldn’t have figured it out if it weren’t for the message Matt passed on to Captain Ash. Well, the Augustine part, anyway. It unlocked that last set, where I discovered four more strays. That really bothered me. That was more than any of the previous messages had had. So why were there so many now? I was having a hard time continuing to think they were simply filler. I was missing something. So I put all the strays on a single piece of paper.”

He pulled a sheet out of his pocket, unfolded it, and laid it on the table. On it were two rows of eight numbers each. The first started with 43 and the second with 73.

Caleb smiled at everyone expectantly, but after no one responded, he said, “Don’t you see it?”

“See what?” Pax asked.

Caleb rolled his eyes and groaned. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and inked a period after both the 43 and the 73. He then drew a minus sign in front of the seven.

“How about now?” he asked.

“GPS coordinates,” Ash said, surprised. He’d seen plenty of similar numbers while in the army. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” Caleb scoffed.

He grabbed a shoulder bag off the chair closest to him and pulled out a laptop. After placing it on the table, he typed something in and turned the screen toward them. On it was a mapping application showing a wide view of the planet. In the text box at the top, Caleb had input the two sets of numbers. He gave them all a second to look at the screen and then pressed
ENTER
.

The map zoomed in until a blue arrow appeared, pointing at the center of what looked like a very small town. In a floating box above the arrow were the coordinates.

“Where the hell is that?” Pax asked.

Caleb widened the shot back one step and the name of the town appeared.

“Everton?” Ash said. “Everton where?

Caleb zoomed out until state lines began to show. “This one’s in Vermont.”

Ash studied the map for a moment. “Okay. I’ll give you that C8 was pointing Matt here for some reason, but it doesn’t meant that place is Dream Sky or whatever DS stands for.”

“That’s the same thing I told him,” Chloe said. “As strong as it was circumstantially, it could still mean anything.”

“Which pissed me off,” Caleb said. “I mean, it’s
obvious
. But I get it. God forbid we assume anything, right?

Chloe and Caleb shared a conspiratorial smile.

“What?” Ash asked.

“Devin used the link into Project Eden’s computer network to confirm that there
is
a Project base at the coordinates,” Chloe said.

“Again, not proof,” Ash said.

“No,” she agreed. “But what he was unable to find probably says the most.”

“What do you mean?”

“She means,” Caleb said, sounding like he felt he should be the one driving the conversation, “that he checked dozens of other facilities in the system, all of which had abundant, accessible information. The base at these coordinates”—he pointed at the map—“had nothing. Not even encrypted info.”

“Then how did you find anything on the base in the first place?” Ash asked.

“Devin was able to locate a map in an old archive that had the base marked. But it’s not on later editions of the same map.  Okay, so maybe it’s not Dream Sky, but whatever it is, it seems pretty damn important.”

“Or maybe it’s not there at all,” Ash said.

“C8 was pointing at something,” Chloe said. “Something he felt was important enough to tell Matt about. And Matt felt it was important enough to tell you before he died. We need to check it out and see for ourselves.”

As Ash opened his mouth to respond, Pax said, “Captain, maybe it is something else entirely, but if there’s a chance this place is Dream Sky, and taking it out would severely cripple the Project, how can we pass up the opportunity to at least check it out?”

The room fell quiet.

“He’s right,” Rachel said. “We have to check. We have to check
now
.”

Again there was silence.

Ash finally broke it. “Caleb, thank you. If we have more questions, we’ll come and find you.”

Caleb looked confused for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, okay. Sure. Um, they probably need me back at the trailer anyway.”

After he was gone, Ash said, “If we’re going to do this, we need to do it right.”

“We can’t afford to waste time,” Chloe said. “The longer we wait, the more entrenched the Project will become. At some point we won’t be able to topple them.”

“I’m not talking about waiting. If this
is
as important as we think it might be, then I’m talking about being ready so we can take advantage of the situation right now.”

28

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

5:27 PM CST

T
ERRELL FISHER SHOVED
his hands into his jacket pockets so Diaz wouldn’t see them shaking. Not that Diaz would have noticed anyway. Terrell was pretty sure the guy was dealing with his own internal repercussions for what they were doing.

“Think we can fit the last two in,” Diaz said, stepping off the back of the truck onto the loading dock. “You get the gurney.”

“Sure,” Terrell said. “Right behind you.”

He waited until Diaz started walking toward the warehouse door before pulling his hands out again. The empty gurney made an awful racket over the uneven concrete floor, but he definitely preferred it to the muted
clackity-clack
it made when it was loaded.

The warehouse was on the eastern edge of Project Eden’s Chicago survival station. All of the offices—medical, processing, security—were located in the building. The holding areas had been constructed in the large parking area that separated the warehouse from a twin building a few hundred yards away. When the Project had first arrived at the facility to begin the conversion, the lot had been full of semis and trailers. Terrell’s first assignment here had been to help move the vehicles out.

Diaz held the door open and allowed Terrell and the gurney to pass through first. They were basically on autopilot as they headed down the hallway. Someone—a Project psychologist, probably—had labeled their destination as the Reassignment Room. This wasn’t the name by which Terrell thought of it. In his mind it was the Kill Room.

The room was large enough to hold up to fifty people at one time. Five rows of ten chairs faced a wall where a video projector would play a message from Gustavo Di Sarsina, supposed Secretary General of the UN, talking about what survivors should expect when they arrived at the safe zone.