The Dream Widow (17 page)

Badger watched the noisy machines race around the room. “Let’s go do it, whatever it is.”

“Follow me.”

“You know I can’t see in the dark anymore.”

“Sorry. Watch your step.”

He took Badger by the hand. Using his sight-trick he led her around the dusty rectangles of machinery, pushing away smaller debris with his foot.

“Why didn’t you bring a lantern?”

“I didn’t have time,” said Badger. “I ran straight from the pass.”

“What’s going on up there?”

A spider-arm whizzed by and both ducked.

“We’re holding back the Circle, but just barely,” said Badger. “They keep on coming no matter how many we kill.”

“If they keep wearing us down there won’t be anyone left to fight.”

“Those animals are camping in the snow,” said Badger. “How long can they really last?”

At last Wilson touched the far corner. He followed the rough concrete wall further to a metal door.

“This is the way into the support area,” he said. “The problem is ... it’s not opening.”

He jammed his finger into the red “open” button. Nothing happened.

“There has to be another way to activate it,” said Badger. “Even the backups in this place have backups.”

Wilson felt the smooth face of the door. “It’s like glass.”

“Let me try. Watch out for your crazy metal friends.”

Badger ran the tips of her fingers along the inside of the door frame. Her fingernail caught on a chest-high seam and she pulled open a small panel.

“Here. Take a look at that.”

Wilson stuck his arm inside and felt the rough surface of a handle. He pulled hard on it and the door shifted slightly.

“See?” said Badger. “It’s like a manual thingy.”

“All right, all right.”

Wilson pulled and pushed the handle back and forth until the door cracked open a finger’s width. He breathed deeply and concentrated on the phrases of the strength trick, then pulled at the gap with both hands. With a scream of rusted metal, the door slid halfway open.

Badger looked back at the cavern. “Can those things come in here?”

“I don’t know,” said Wilson. “But I see rails on the ceiling of the corridor.”

He kept a firm grip on Badger’s hand as they crept through the pitch-black corridor. As she walked, Badger brushed the fingers of her free hand along the wall and felt a series of doors pass by.

“Did you search these rooms?”

Wilson shook his head then remembered that Badger couldn’t see. “No. They aren’t labeled anything related to power or the reactor.”

The pair wandered through black tunnels full of dusty equipment and cloth-covered boxes.

Wilson stopped in front of a door. “Here it is––FPG Control.”

“FPG?”

“Facility Power Generation.”

Wilson turned the lever and pushed but the door didn’t budge. When he used the strength-trick the door curved inside slightly, and fine grit and pebbles cascaded from the crack between the door and the frame.

Wilson wiped his palms on his trousers and sighed. “It’s blocked. The ceiling must have fallen in.”

“Sounds like we’re out of luck.”

A blade scraped loudly in the corridor.

“Get down!” yelled Wilson.

They dropped to the floor tiles as a metal claw zipped overhead, throwing sparks as it slashed at the wall. Wilson watched it disappear around a corner and listened for any others, but all he heard was the tidal in-and-out rush of his own breathing.

“Now what,” whispered Badger.

“Like you said, there’s always a backup. Another way might be through the discharge cylinder––we passed it on the way here.”

“Let’s go before that thing comes back,” said Badger.

After a few minutes of scrambling through the dark, Wilson turned and led Badger down an interminable metal stairwell. Each step made a rickety and nervous clang that echoed in all directions. At the bottom of the stairwell, Wilson stepped over piles of centuries-old dust and fallen rock fragments. He swung open a metal hatch and blue light streamed inside.

“Wait a second––let your eyes adjust,” he said.

The hatch opened to a high and narrow space, more like an eternal crack inside the mountain than anything made by the hands of men. At the far end a metal sphere dangled over a pit like a massive crystal ball. Blue lightning crackled down a supporting cylinder, over the sphere, and into the depths. During the short flash Wilson felt intense heat on his face and smelled something in the air, like meat forgotten in the oven. A spindly metal ladder and catwalk led across the pit to a platform above the sphere.

Instead of tile or concrete, the floor below their feet was a series of square metal grates. Cables as wide as a man’s forearm ran below the mesh and were covered in a layer of gray dust.

Something whirred behind them. Badger screamed and kicked as a pair of spider-arms grabbed her wrists and pulled her high into the air.

Wilson dodged a snapping metal claw. Another ripped away a sleeve of his leather jacket.

Badger struggled near the ceiling at least ten meters above Wilson’s head. A dozen thin robotic arms pulled her limbs and ripped at her clothing with their sharp pincers.

Wilson inhaled deeply and whispered a poem.

            Leg coiled tight

            Leg coiled hard

            Leg coiled fast

            Send me far

He squatted and jumped high, grabbing with both hands a clawed arm around Badger’s leg. Holding on with his left hand and squeezing with his right, he crushed the life out of the metal limb like it was a dry cornstalk.

Two claws speared into his shoulders painfully. Wilson let go of the first spider-arm and throttled both of the new attackers with the enhanced strength in his hands. He kicked away more claws and fell to the floor on his hands and feet like a cat.

The other claws pulled Badger across the ceiling toward the lightning sphere. Wilson ran across the floor and jumped again. He flew high into the air and crashed into Badger. He held onto her waist and pulled off the robotic arms one by one.

The claws swung over the crackling sphere of lightning and suddenly let go. In free-fall, Wilson squeezed Badger with his left arm. He yelled as the armpit of his other arm slammed into the catwalk’s metal railing.

Badger climbed onto the narrow grates and pulled Wilson to safety. He gasped in pain.

“Are you okay?”

“My arm ... it feels broken.”

“Come on.”

Badger helped him walk along the catwalk to a small, circular platform. Below their feet lay the mad, crackling sphere. A wide structural rod ran from the sphere to the dark reaches of the ceiling, and the platform circled the upper section. The intense heat or something else in the air made the small hairs on the back of Wilson’s hands stand up.

Wilson collapsed on the platform with a numb arm and stabbing pain at his shoulder. Badger pulled off the shreds of his jacket, the parts that hadn’t been ripped by the robotic arms.

“How’s it look?”

“The shoulder’s not rounded,” said Badger. “There’s a bone or something pushing under the skin.”

“Don’t touch it!”

“I didn’t.”

Wilson twisted his head around and tried to get a look. He sighed and dropped back to the platform. “It’s dislocated.”

“You mean broken?”

Wilson shook his head. “No. Are those things still around?”

“I don’t see or hear any,” said Badger.

“I’m going to need your help. I can’t do anything until we pop the arm back into place.”

“All right.”

“Hold the arm at the wrist and elbow. Wait! Okay, push the wrist up to the shoulder. Gahh ... don’t worry, I can take the pain. Now lower it back down. Keep the elbow from moving. Push the wrist to my left. Hoooo boy. Now pull it toward you.”

The joint slid back into place and the pain instantly went away.

“You did it! Thank you.”

Badger leaned over Wilson and gave him a kiss. “No––thank you.”

“All’s well that ends in a dislocated arm, I guess.”

Wilson made a sling from the scraps of his jacket as Badger kept watch.

“I don’t understand what this pit is for,” she said. “Did they shove prisoners into it?”

“Probably not.” Wilson pointed at the cylinder at the center of the platform. “That says ‘FPG Discharge.’ If this place has something to do with the reactor, maybe I can access the controls from here.”

Badger helped him to his feet and over to a display embedded in the cylinder. Wilson began to enter all the passwords that priests were required to memorize. At last he gained access and tapped through the power generation menus.

“If I knew what I was doing I could just reset the specific subsystems. Since that’s not the case, the best solution is a short power-off and restart. Grab onto something, dear.”

Badger slid an arm around his waist.

Wilson nodded. “Now that’s something.”

The entire cavern dimmed, lit only by a faint orange heat radiating up from the metal sphere.

“Aaaany second now ...”

Bright wall-lights snapped alive and sparks popped across the sphere again.

Badger clapped her hands. “Can you turn off those crazy machines from here?”

“Not really, but after the restart they should be asleep or at least back to normal.”

“What about the reactor?”

Wilson swiped through the display menus.

“That’s strange ... the reactor sub-system is asking for a special code. I can’t even get a status update.”       

Once more he tried all the passwords he could remember.

“No use. It’s still locked.”

“I’m just a dumb girl from the mountains,” said Badger. “But that might be something to figure out.”

“You’re not just a dumb girl, but I agree––we need to find a password. Since the power has been reset, let’s check on Reed.”

MAST TOOK HIS TURN at the narrow choke-point. He fired all of his rounds at the Circle troops hiding behind the rocks, missed every shot, and walked up to the dugout in disgust.

Alfie and Tran jogged out of the falling snow from the direction of Station. Both carried crossbows and packets of bolts tied with string.

Mast pointed at Tran. “What’s he doing here?”

“He wanted to help,” said Alfie.

“All right. Just keep him away from Hausen. Him and tribals don’t get along.”

Night approached. As light faded from the sky the flurries became a storm of ice. The pass transformed into a slippery mess of frozen mud, blood, and exhausted men. The Circle no longer broke cover but from the occasional shot from Robb on the cliffs, everyone knew they were still around.

Mast squatted next to Tran and Alfie at the boulder in the tight curve.

“Anything, boys?”

Alfie shook his head. “Nothing.”

“No signals from Nelson on the north trail, so they haven’t tried to cross that way,” said Mast. “Hausen’s also sent scouts to the ridges to see if they’re trying to climb over.”

A series of rifle shots came from Robb’s perch up above. Mast heard a crunch and peered cautiously around the side of the boulder. Half covered in mud, a square brown bag made a clacking sound.

Mast pushed Alfie away. “Get back!”

A boom shook the ground like the angry fist of God and threw rocks, mud, and villagers into the air.

Mast opened his eyes on a bald patch of earth. He watched the snowflakes land silently on grass crushed by thousands of footsteps. In a detached frame of mind, he wondered how long it would take for the grass to bounce back.

Bullets sparked noiselessly on the rock walls of the pass. Circle troops in mottled brown and green appeared and threw green canisters farther up the pass and out of Mast’s field of vision. The ground shook again, several times.

A heavy weight lay on his legs. Mast shook Tran’s limp body and pushed him off. A nearby Circle trooper noticed the movement, and in what felt like slow motion swung the muzzle of his black carbine toward Mast.

Mast breathed a chant and leaped from the ground. He smashed the soldier in the face with a left hook and ripped the strange carbine out of his hands. The snowflakes dangled in place as Mast shot the soldier in the chest. He held down the trigger and shot a stream of bullets through a group of five Circle troopers nearby.

The firing pin clicked on an empty chamber and the snowflakes began to fall again, slowly at first. Mast ran a few steps up the pass but stumbled over something soft in the mud. He fell to his hands and knees, overcome with nausea.

The low-pitched snap of Circle carbines filled the air as more soldiers ran up the pass. Mast thought he heard the sound of dogs barking. Hands grabbed him under the shoulders and dragged him away, faster than a normal man could run. He watched the mud and snow zip beneath him and passed out.