Offworld (18 page)

"What do you think's our best play, Beech?" Chris asked. "Try
to get our hands on a boat, bypass the weather by heading out to
sea?"

Owen shook his head, bringing up a live image showing the
Gulf Coast, all the way from Florida to Texas. There, in the vicinity
of Houston, the impossibly bright light was still shining. It looked
even brighter at night.

"Venturing into the Gulf will take us hundreds of miles out of our
way," Owen explained. "Just getting around the Louisiana peninsula
could take several days in this weather, and those waters are more
dangerous now with the river surge and the storm. Our goal should
be to move inland."

The storm reached a whole new fevered pitch, lightning striking
and wild thunder letting loose.

Trisha joined the conversation-apparently she'd been listeningby shouting over Chris' shoulder, "But you said going inland would
be suicide, with the hemorrhaging dams and levees."

"Yes, that is what I said," Owen replied. "But that was before. The
damage that way is done. The surge has to be nearing its crest and
there are no more dams and levees for the river to take out. And even
though the river flow isn't slowing down yet, it's evened out, which
means the terrain won't suddenly change on us anymore."

"How do we move against the surge though? We'd have to have
something pretty powerful."

"Correct," Owen shouted over the din. "Unfortunately, most boats
won't be of much use to us."

"Then what would be useful?" asked a new voice.

Everyone turned to look. Terry stood just inside the light room,
Mae peering over his shoulder. They too had seemingly heard most
of the conversation. Terry looked tired and less than happy, but his
expression was hardened and determined. Chris knew that look and
was glad to see it return to his friend's face.

"I'm not certain," Owen said, searching his laptop screen again
for something helpful he might cull from it.

Chris' mind spun, his command experience and instincts kicking
in. It felt good. Right.

"Wait a minute, wait .. " he said, gaining everyone's attention.
"Doesn't Biloxi have an Air Force base?"

"Yeah, yeah," Terry replied, his eyes lighting up. "Keesler. No
relation to yours truly. They do a lot of training. Electronics stuff, I
think. They used to have a fleet of modified C-130s, used 'em mostly
for flying into the eyes of hurricanes and stuff like that. I'm not sure
what they house these days."

"Keesler AFB is very close by," Owen said, pointing to his screen. Terry knelt down to see it up close. Chris and Trisha also leaned in
to get a better look. "The question is, how to reach it?"

Owen was right. The base was less than a mile to the northwest,
though the buildings likely to contain anything useful were situated
on the far side of the base, and they would not be easy to reach if
they were as flooded as the coast.

As if to accentuate this point, a tremendous bolt of lightning
arced down a few hundred feet away from where they were, and
there was a simultaneous crack of thunder loud enough to split the
world in two.

Please, help us ... Anything ...

"Look!" Terry cried.

Before anyone could stop him, Terry shoved them apart like
he was running through a crowd, and dove over the side of the
balcony.

"Terry!" Chris and Trisha both shouted at the same time. Owen
and Mae joined them at the railing, looking for him in the darkness
and unable to see where he'd surfaced. If he'd surfaced at all.

"Do you see him?" Chris asked.

"No!" Trisha replied, placing a hand over her eyes to block the
rain.

Nighttime swallowed them completely now and very little was
visible in the darkness of the devastating storm. Power had failed
in the city long ago, making it hard to get a bead on anything more
than thirty or forty yards out.

"Terry!" Chris shouted again, drawing out his name long and
loud.

There was no response.

The silence of the moment enveloped them as they searched
what little they could see in vain for any sign of Terry.

Trisha was the first to speak, but her words came out barely
audible. "What if he's gone?"

Chris decided to pretend he didn't hear her amidst the howling winds. A series of blinding lightning strikes fell nearby, illuminating
the seashore for a few fractions of a second. For one brief moment,
Chris thought he'd caught a glimpse of something small moving in
their direction, but then the darkness resumed and he dismissed it
as wishful thinking.

"We can't stay here any longer," Chris declared, watching the nowblack sky carry out what felt like a personal vendetta against them.
"With the wind and water, the integrity of this lighthouse is going to
be compromised soon. We can't go down with it."

"What are you thinking?" Trisha asked, still searching the water
for signs of Terry.

Chris opened his mouth to reply when he heard the faint sound
of a motor beneath them.

`Ahoy!" came the call from below.

All four of them leaned over the rail to look: Terry sat grinning
up at them, straddling a tiny high-speed watercraft with just enough
room for one or two people.

"I believe I saw a rope inside the light room," Owen remarked.

Chris stood next to the open window, and he ducked quickly
inside and saw it coiled on the floor. It wasn't very long but it was
thick and coarse and it would have to do. Back outside, he and Trisha
secured it to the railing and threw the rest down to Terry and the
tiny craft.

Terry tied the rope tight to the jet ski before turning off the engine
and then handily climbed the thick rope. With help from the others,
he pulled himself up over the side. "It's still got over half a battery!"
he shouted.

"How did you see it in all this?" asked Trisha.

"Saw a reflection. The thing's got chrome reflectors on the side."
There was no wiping the triumphant smile off his face.

"We're not doing this piecemeal," Chris said, ending the brief
celebration. "We all get out of here or none of us do. We can't all
ride on that thing at once, and we certainly can't drive a car.... That leaves only one avenue of escape. And there's got to be something
at that Air Force base that can do the job."

"If it has wings, I can put it in the air," Terry declared. "But even
I can't take off from a flooded runway. I doubt a Hercules could get
off the ground in this."

"I wasn't thinking of a C-130," Chris concluded. "How about a
helicopter?"

Looks were exchanged all around. Chris, Trisha, and Terry were all
experienced pilots, and Owen, brilliant as he was, understood instantly
as well. Even Mae appeared to comprehend somewhat. Launching
and flying a helicopter in this kind of weather was something no sane
person would attempt under normal circumstances.

"It doesn't have to be a chopper," Chris added. "I'd settle for a
hydrofoil at this point. Or a hovercraft. An F-35 would be fantastic,
but I doubt we'll find any at Keesler unless there's been some major
changes while we were away."

"Then let's do it," Terry replied. "We can bring a chopper back
with a rope ladder and pick everybody else up."

"No way. You're not coming. I'm going alone," said Chris.

"There's room on that thing for two-"

`But an extra body will slow it down-"

Terry whipped out the pistol he'd used to blow open the locked
door beneath them. He turned it so the handle was out and he
extended it to Chris. "Then shoot me," he said. "Nothing less will
keep me from getting on that boat with you."

Chris took the weapon without really thinking and stuck it in the
hack of his pants, but threw Terry a very severe gaze.

"Come on, Chris," Terry implored him, "you know how it works.
You don't enter a hot zone without a wingman."

"You did say no one should go off entirely on their own," Trisha
added quietly.

Chris' rock-hard expression never softened as he stared at Terry.
After a beat, he said, "If I tell you to do something, you do it. No hesitation, no questions. If I tell you to bark like a dog, I had better
see you down on all fours, you got it?"

Terry nodded urgently.

"Chris, this is either the stupidest idea you've ever had, or ..."
Trisha fretted. "I don't even see any lights on that boat. How will you
be able to see where you're going?"

Terry was already descending the rope.

"It's our only option," Chris replied. "See if you can get the lighthouse to work. The light can guide us back here. Were close to the
base. Terry and I will be back quick, or we wont be back at all."

That was the wrong thing to say. Chris knew it immediately from
the looks on all three faces.

"Listen," he said, leaning in closer to the three of them staying
behind. "We're getting out of here. Were going to make it through
this. All of us. Help is already on its way back for the three of you,
I promise, and-"

Without warning, he blacked out and fell headfirst into the
water.

Finding a foothold on the slippery cave walls was impossible, but that
didn't stop Chris from trying.

The readout on his arm showed that he had a little over twenty
minutes of oxygen left in his suit. If he couldn'tget clear of this cave and
send a signal back to the Habitat, he was dead. Any and all options
were running out fast.

Okay, so I won't be climbing out.

He flicked on the flashlight attached to his arm andpointed it down
the long, dark tunnel. First one way, then the other. Both directions
looked virtually identical, the beam of light he cast swallowed entirely
by the empty distance stretching out before him.

Chris thought hard, trying to remember his overall orientation and
location. He did his best to choose the tunnel direction that ran closest to the direction of the Habitat, even though their artificial Martian
dwelling was several miles away. He figured, given a choice, he might
as well walk twenty minutes closer to safety.

But he was tired. He didn't realize how tired he was until he began the hike, and found that the tube ran roughly uphill at a slight incline.
He was still in top shape, despite the physical degradation that his time
on Mars had caused to his muscles and bones. He wondered if maybe
it was his oxygen running low that was making him so fatigued. And
he knew that by exerting himself, he was using up more oxygen than
if he were to sit still and remain as calm as possible.

But sitting still wasn't an option. Itfelt too much like surrendering.

He walked in silence for ten minutes, trying his best to keep his
breathing low while maintaining a steady pace. His heart sank as his
wrist light flickered and died, plunging him into complete darkness.

His .heart beginning to race, he reached outhis right arm and found
purchase on the slick, curved wall of the cave. He used it as a guide,
continuing now at a slower pace, but still moving forward.

This was how he would die, he realized. Wandering. Alone in the
dark.

The thought ofsuffocating was frightening enough, no matter how
much his training tried to suppress it. Butfor it to happen this way, in
this lonely, dark place, with no one around to know of his passing, or
maybe, just hold his hand as he fell into the long night ...

Chris keyed the LED display on his arm and it briefly lit up. It wasn't
enough to light the way ahead, it merely displayed the amount of'oxygen
left in his suit. Five minutes left. Nowfour. Then without warning even
the LED snapped off and Chris' despair was complete.

Except.

Except, for something new, off in the distance, that caught his eye.

Something glowing.

"Whoa there, Commander," Terry shouted, pulling him through
the water toward where the jet ski was tethered. "You all right?"

Chris was fully alert now, shaking off the effects of his latest
memory. "Yeah. You can let go, I'm okay, I can swim."