The Angel & the Brown-eyed Boy (27 page)

For years, the village had known Jeremy was building something huge behind the mansion. Not knowing was impossible; heavy equipment filled the lawn and gardens. Mountains of excavated dirt dotted the area. Cement trucks came in like trains of
ants, and other trucks delivered stuff, one thing after another. Solar panels—hundreds of them. Pipes and electric wire. Enough stuff to make a city.

No one had known what Jeremy was building, and he hadn’t said anything to them. They’d made friends with the workmen when he was gone, hoping they’d talk. The workmen had learned to love hooch and mushrooms on their days off. All that resulted in was the men getting fired when Jeremy came out without warning.

When it was finished, they’d covered the underground city with dirt, and planted grass and bushes. Except for long fingers of glass sunk down six feet, with metal covers over them, nothing showed. Something that big hidden out of sight had given him the willy-shakes—not that he’d admitted it. Trucks kept coming, day and night. Men unloaded stuff into it; what, Sam never knew.

And now he was inside it, looking around the cement world far below the surface. Gray, hard surfaces, lit by electric lights. It was chilly down here and a little damp, more so than the deepest cellar. Strange echoes arose from their boots on the hard floor. No one spoke. The place had no sound. No breeze. No life but theirs.

They were standing at the foot of the six long stairways. To his left, he could see a hall bigger than anything in the village. To his right, a wide corridor was carved back under the house. This was the place they might live and die, if Jeremy let them in. A world of cement. Sam thought, can ah live here? Can ah live here even a day?

Being burned to ashes would be better.

Sam’s knees betrayed him, trembling. Jeremy seemed angry again. Sam was glad; that way, he didn’t notice Sam’s terror.

Jeremy began firing questions at him. “How many people are there in the village?”

“Th’ world is gonna blow fer sure? Yuh know it fer real?” Sam found it hard to talk.

“That’s right, Sam, the whole planet is going to blow up. How many people, Sam? Drop the stupid act. We don’t have time.”

“Sorruh, Mr. Egerton.”

“Drop that dialect, too. Talk like a regular person. I know you can.”

Sam jumped. “How’d ye know?”

“I heard you bargaining with the trader in Jamayuh. You spoke good English then. You had to; he wasn’t from the Hamptons. He wouldn’t have understood you.”

Sam ducked his head. “Yuh can hear all the way to Jamayuh?”

“You’d be surprised at what I hear, Sam. I’ve got this township wired for sound.”

“Wait a minute, Jeremy,” Henry said, cutting in. “Sam just found out about all this. He’s never been down here. Give him a moment to collect his thoughts.”

Sam clutched the amulet he kept in his pocket. This was witchcraft. He was as afraid of Jeremy as he would be of a real snake man.

“It’s not supernatural, Sam; it’s technology.” Jeremy’s voice was softer when he spoke. “I’m a tech. A wizard, maybe—a genius, probably—but just a tech. We don’t have much time. We have lots to discuss, so I’m sorry if I’m short. You know about the machines that have been coming out of the earth?”

Sam nodded, careful to talk regular. “From the start. My boy, Rupert, rode to Jamayuh to see one up close. He jus’ come back.”

Jeremy turned on Rupert, who was trying to hide behind his father. “Get out here, Rupert. I need to talk to you.”

Rupert approached Jeremy as he might approach the king of the snake men, head down, peeking up at him like a kid. No, Sam realized, Ru approached Jeremy like he was God.

“What did you see in Jamayuh, Rupert?” Jeremy’s eye’s flashed.

“A big thing, stuck way up in the sky. I could see the track where it came from, tiltin’ up. That was in th’ gr’und, all wires ‘n’ steel.”

“Can you be more specific, Rupert? It matters. I need to know what kind of warhead it is.”

Rupert stood staring at Jeremy, unable to move. Sam could see that Jeremy’s power, along with the shadows and sounds of the shelter, had terrified his son. He intervened for him. “Ru’ can remember
what anything looks like. Did you draw the figures on it, son?”

Rupert nodded. “Ah got ‘em all on this.” He pulled a paper from his shirt.

“Do you have pictures of the things?” Sam said, speaking the best English he ever had. “He’ll pick it out for you.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. I can show you my command center at the same time. Follow me.” Jeremy turned right and took off at a fast walk, heading down the corridor under the mansion.

Sam saw everything, memorizing the passage the way he would note landmarks in the forest. The hallway had rooms with metal doors on both sides. He saw tracks for sliding doors along the ceiling, and realized that the edges of steel doors slid back into the walls. The place could be shut down six ways from Sunday. It was a fortress.

Jeremy opened one of the doors, talking into a piece of metal on the wall and punching buttons. They entered another corridor, which burrowed back into the earth under the mansion. The door closed and locked behind them. The lab was behind steel walls and through two more sets of doors. These opened after Jeremy talked into a flat panel and showed his palm. They all went inside, pressing close. The lab was a series of rooms off the entry, glass-walled, with the same type of locks on each door.

Jeremy touched something on the wall. The lights went on and the screens lit up. A blue glow suffused the rooms behind the glass wall. Hundreds of computer screens gleamed in half a dozen rooms.

The entrance to the lab was up a few steps from where they stood. Jeremy whirled to face the group, standing in front of the glass doors.

The light from the computers struck Jeremy from the rear. His disheveled hair stuck out in thick corkscrews. The ringlets caught the light and shone, making a halo around his head. The lab disappeared in a sea of monitors and screens, in rooms stretching into the darkness.

Sam began to tremble. It was a holy, awful place.

In his mind, Jeremy looked like a forest spirit or a boogie. He looked more supernatural than the most terrifying snake man raving about hell. He could feel Jeremy’s eyes burning into him. Sam wanted to groan and fall down like they did at the meetings. The boy had the power to see all over the world with those computers. The power to do things Sam could not imagine.

At that moment, Sam realized what it meant to be a Tek, and that Jeremy was the Great Tek. He was lucky to live in the time of the Great Tek and meet him, even if, until now, Jeremy had been a barely civil, rich brat to him.

“OK,” Jeremy said. “This is my temple. I built it with the help of the greatest techs alive. It’s our best work. We built this place hoping to create a new world after the nuclear war. We built it for all of you here, my friends. But there was more to this place. All of you know this, all but Sam and Rupert.

“A bunch of scientists and intellectuals picked from all over the world were supposed to be here with us. I had hoped my mom might come home, too”—he stiffened—“but no one’s coming. Everything happened too fast.”

Sam’s jaw dropped and he practically dropped with it. Jeremy said he and Rupert were invited into the shelter. What of their families? What of the rest of the village? He couldn’t stop himself from crying, “Wha’? Wha’ o’ the village? Wha’ abou’ ma wives and kiddies? An’ Rupert’s?”

Jeremy looked at him. “I always intended for you and Rupert to be in the shelter, Sam. You could pick your favorite wife and children. Up to three kids each.”

Sam stood speechless.

“There wouldn’t be enough room for more, Sam. It was just genetics. Everyone going into the shelter from my end was genius caliber, or saved my life, or both. Or they had powers like you and Ru do. That’s what we need to make a good world. Good genes.” Jeremy waved his hand at the others standing behind him, the people who’d come with him from the city.

Sam felt rage burst up from his boots. His hands closed into fists. Who did that little snot think he was? Pick your favorite wife and three kids? Leave the rest to die? He took a step toward Jeremy.

“That’s close enough,” Arthur said, stepping between them. Arthur moved silently, all in black, looking the commando he was. He wore a gun belt bristling with weapons and held a long, black stick in his hand. Sam kept coming, too enraged to stop.

“Da!” Ru cried. But it was too late.

Sam found himself on the floor with Arthur standing over him, holding the stick in both hands. His ears rang. Blood ran down the side of his head. Fighting Arthur was no use. He was better than all the general’s men combined. He hid in a suit and a driver’s hat, and none of the Russians suspected what he was. It was the villagers who saw Arthur and Jeremy spar. Sam could beat Arthur if he got his hands on him, but, suited up and ready, nah. No one could beat him.

Sam felt his will giving way. No one would get into the shelter unless Jeremy said they could. Arthur would kill the whole village, despite how friendly he’d seemed through the years.

He sat up, head aching where Arthur had popped him. Enraged, he dropped any pretense of speaking proper English. “OK, Mr. Egerton. How many o’ us get in, now tha’ th’ scientists ain’t comin’?” He dipped his head like a servant, wanting to kill Jeremy and Arthur.

“How many of you are there?” Jeremy looked stony eyed. Sam realized he would have left most of the village to fry if the geniuses had come. Rage came up again; he hated Jeremy. Arthur’s hand went to his pistol. Sam bowed his head and talked civil, like he always did to those of the big house. But he said what he’d wanted to say all his life.

“Ah dunnoh, Mr. Egerton. We ain’t got a school. Not a one of us can read or count, thanks to you and the lady thinkin’ so much of us that ye forgot t’ send a teacher out. Ah c’n count us out on a stick or
pull everyone out and you an’ the geniuses can count us proper...” He stopped talking and stood there, jaws locked, breath going in and out between his teeth.

“Is this another time like th’ med’cine t’ stop the spots? Is this like that?” he spit out. “R’member when the spots come here a few years back?”

Jeremy’s jaw dropped. Sam saw that the little bugger knew exactly what he was saying. They were like slaves, the people of the village. Worked for her, worked for Jeremy. Got a share of the crops, fought off marauders. In return, they got to stay in the barns, forgotten until the Egertons wanted to have a day in the country.

Long years before, the lady had sent a nurse out. She had given them all shots so they wouldn’t get sick. Some fierce sicknesses ran around the Hamptons, things his healin’ couldn’t touch. So they got shots. The lady forgot to send a nurse out again, for the batch of littl’uns that came along.

When the spots came back, the babies were mowed down. He lost four of his children. Twenty-eight died. Those that lived had marks on their faces from it.

The lady forgot to send the nurse back to take care of the babies. Just like she forgot to send the teacher every year.

“Is this like that, Mr. Egerton?” He hoped that skinny monkey could feel how much he hated him. “Takin’ care of the village like wi’ the spots?”

“Oh, Sam. I’m so sorry. That was a terrible mistake. My mother didn’t mean—”

“Ye were wee, Mr. Egerton, too little t’ know. Ah don’ blame ye. But wha’ about Henry, Mr. Egerton? An’ th’ rest? The lady’s butler and maid and all o’ them? Were they froze up so they didn’t know what was happenin’? Was there no news o’ th’ village on yer tellie?”

Jeremy deflated. “No. It’s not like that, Sam.” But it was, both of them knew. The villagers weren’t good enough. “We can’t save everyone. Everyone’s going to die, all over the world. And so will the people going into the shelter, eventually. We hoped that we’d be able to leave descendants
that were the best humanity could produce... a super race.”

Sam’s jaw clenched and released. His people weren’t good enough to save.

“But it’s not like that now, Sam. Look, the shelter can hold one hundred people. If there are fewer than a hundred of you, we can all fit in. We’ll make the new super race.”

“Aye. Th’ super race. Me an’ ma people.” Sam stared at Jeremy. “Th’ village will have its day.” A bit of the Voice crept into his speech. He’d never used it on the Egertons, never acted aught but their faithful dog. “We’ll see wha’ kind o’ world comes then.”

“K
nock that off! Don’t you ever do that to me.” Jeremy jumped when he heard Sam’s Voice. He’d heard him use it with the villagers and others from the Hamptons, and on the general’s men, too. They’d never known what hit them; they did what Sam wanted, without thought.

“This is my shelter, Sam, not yours. I built it. You couldn’t build it to save your soul. If the village is saved, it will be by me, on my terms. That sounds tough, and it is tough. You know the diseases that your people have. You have people who can’t even talk, they’re so disabled. What about the ones who rage and attack? They kill people. Is that what you want for a new world?”

Sam looked down, backing off the tiniest bit. Jeremy kept banging on him. He didn’t know if he could withstand Sam’s Voice for very long and didn’t want to try. “Do you know why I didn’t tell you what we were building?”