Thirst No. 3 (37 page)

I continue to study the helicopter’s elaborate weapon system. Matt was wise to write me a program. The guns, cannon, and missiles all work together as an integrated whole. The system is more complex than just aiming and firing. I have to
admire the men and women who train for years to master such controls.

We’re halfway to Zurich, and the airport, when an alarm sounds.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Check your C-Scan. You’ll see two jets closing in from the south.”

“Are they Telar?”

“Pretty sure.”

“They could be part of the Swiss Air Force.”

“The alarm sounded because they’ve scanned us and are attempting to get a radar lock. They’re about to fire on us. They’re Telar.”

“How much time do we have?”

“A minute. Maybe less.” He pauses. “I didn’t see them coming. They must have launched from a hidden airfield.”

“Can we fire first?”

“They’re behind us but closing fast. We’ll come into range first. It’s always easier to attack from behind.”

“Maybe we should reverse course.”

“No.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Trust me. I have my reasons.”

“Will they try to hit us with heat-seeking Sidewinders?”

“That will be their first choice.”

“You know what to do?”

“I hope so,” Matt says.

His reason for not turning around and attacking is a small town up ahead. Our Apache is fast, but it’s no match for a jet when it comes to pure speed. The helicopter’s biggest advantage is it can stop and hover. I know what Matt’s thinking. The jets that are chasing us will lock their heat-seeking missiles onto our hot engines. He’s hoping to find an alternative heat source somewhere in the town that will confuse the weapons.

We both see the bonfire at the same time. It’s at the center of town, at a junction of two large streets. I urge Matt to hurry toward it, but he heads for the trees on the mountain behind the town.

“Why?” I cry.

“I need them to commit to their attack plan before they see how we’re going to respond.”

A much louder alarm sounds. On my C-Scan I see . . .

“They’ve launched two missiles!” he shouts.

“One was not enough?”

“Hold on!” Matt suddenly changes course, and we drop at a frightening speed toward the town. It’s a pleasant summer night, and there’s a crowd—it looks like mostly teenagers—hovering around the flames. But when they look up and see our huge rotor blades, they quickly begin to disperse. Not fast enough to please Matt, though.

“I need to scare them off with our blades,” he says.

“You need to hover in front of the fire until the missiles arrive.”

“I’m not going to blow up a bunch of innocent kids.”

“How long to impact?”

“Ten seconds.”

I take hold of the Gatling gun’s controls, and without asking Matt’s permission, I open fire at a dark and empty pastry shop a hundred feet from the fire. I hold the trigger down a second, but it’s enough to destroy the shop. The kids scream and flee from the street.

“Now get in front of that fire!” I order.

“Clever, Sita.” He lowers the Apache between the bonfire and the rapidly approaching missiles. I can see them now, streaking red meteors in the night sky. They’re coming right at us. Matt has nerves of steel. I would have veered away already, but he continues to hover in front of the fire.

The missiles swell outside our window.

They look close enough to touch.

Matt jerks the Apache to the right. For a few seconds we’re turned at a ninety-degree angle to the ground, flying sideways. The bonfire explodes in a blinding ball of red light. The shock wave hits us so hard we tumble out of control, and our blades almost scrape the ground.

I don’t know how Matt does it, but moments later we’re stable and rising swiftly. “Lock a missile onto each jet and fire.”

“Roger!” I yell, firing the missiles.

“Lock the machine guns into our radar tracking system.”

“Already locked. Ready to fire.”

“Excellent. Flyby will be in . . . three . . . two . . . one. Fire!”

Our missiles miss, and I’m not surprised. They’re heat seekers, and the jets’ engines are turned away from us and thus make poor targets. But by waiting to the last second to make an evasive move, Matt has lured the jets close to us. They fly almost directly over the main street, and as they do so I pound them with our high-speed Gatling guns. It feels great, the sensation of pure power at my fingertips.

I feel even better when both jets smash into the side of the mountain and explode. They hit above the tree line and spare the village a major fire. Indeed, they ram into a snowpack left over from the winter, and the intense heat of the explosions melts the snow and the steaming water extinguishes the flames.

No one on the ground appears hurt.

We fly away unscathed, toward Zurich.

“Still think I’m a spy for the Telar?” Matt asks casually.

“They could have been Swiss jets.”

“Swiss jets would have politely called on the radio and asked for our flight plan number. They wouldn’t have shot at us. The Swiss are civilized.”

“You should know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying you know them well. After all, the Telar have their headquarters here.”

Matt laughs. “My father lived here. That’s the only reason they lured you to Arosa. They knew you would make the Yaksha-Switzerland connection.”

“Where are their headquarters?”

“America.”

“America’s big.”

“They’re centered in Washington DC.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Five days later finds us in Colorado, in an old mining town called Goldsmith. Matt says he chose the place for the clean mountain air and the privacy. Goldsmith has a population of fifteen hundred—on the weekends. The town is definitely far off the beaten track.

Matt owns the home, under a pseudonym. It’s comfortable, and it is heavily fortified. It’s also invisible from the road and strategically placed. It’s ten miles from the town, hidden behind a grove of lush pines on one side and a granite ridge on the other. Furthermore, next door to the residence is an elaborate network of mines the frontiersmen carved out at the close of the nineteenth century.

Legend has it that one of the boarded-up mines—an obscure tributary of the main tunnel that stretches miles into the mountain—leads to a cavern sheltering a vein of gold so
rich that dozens of skeletons can be found there, of the men and women who killed each other while standing guard over the treasure. The old-timers swear the mine is haunted.

It is now, in a sense. The Apache was not the only exotic toy Yaksha managed to get his hands on and leave to his son. Matt has equipped the house and mine with enough firepower to defeat a small army. He fears, when we’re found, that’s exactly what the Telar will hit us with. He spends his days training us on how not to blow each other up.

He spends his nights explaining to Teri our predicament.

Considering 90 percent of what he tells her sounds like science fiction, he does a decent job. Yet the truth is Teri has been in a daze since she walked in on me and Numbria in that crummy motel in London. All the talk, all the psychic massages we’ve subjected her to, have not brought back the sweet innocent woman Matt and I both fell in love with.

I see how it kills Matt, and I die with him a little each day.

He came out of hiding for me, to rescue me. He destroyed his life and the life of his true love for me. Those are facts, and they’re regrettable. Yet we have bigger issues to contend with that make his personal sacrifices less significant. The Telar are about to crush humanity. Brutran and the IIC must surely be aware, and have plans to counterstrike. Which means the tempting shadows can no longer hide Matt, for he’s caught in the middle of this battle. He’s wise enough to know he has to take a stand and fight.

Nevertheless, I feel for the idyllic lifestyle he’s sacrificed. For two years he’s floated on his love for Teri, waiting for me to show up, while praying I never would. Yet I doubt it’s by chance that we’ve all come together at the same time the storm has arrived.

So my guilt is tempered with responsibilities.

Lisa is another handful. She has refused to quit her teaching job in Truman and move with us to Colorado. Part of the blame lies with Matt. He doesn’t trust her enough to explain what he is, and who I am. His decision is understandable—under ordinary circumstances. But to me, to leave her out in the wild, unprotected, feels wrong. Maybe the Telar and the IIC will see her as too insignificant and ignore her. Yet both groups have already proven that no one is too small to murder.

I can stand up to Matt. I’m the oldest—I should be our leader. But the roles have suddenly shifted, and I feel there’s probably no going back. He is faster and stronger than me, and he was trained by Yaksha from childhood to fight the Telar. Even Seymour looks to him for protection.

But Seymour and I still look to each other for answers.

On our fifth evening in Colorado, the two of us sit on a summit above the mine and wait for the sun to set. The air is still and dry, suffused with peace and a feeling of timelessness. My head has healed from the Pulse, and yet I continue to feel an ache that’s more psychological than physical. I’m not easily traumatized, but Haru did a number on me.

As always, Seymour seems to read my mind.

“Would you really have revealed our location?”

“I came close to breaking. It scares me how close.”

“You once said that pain was only a state of mind.”

“That machine erased my mind. That was the problem. It leaves you with nothing to fight back with.”

“I hope they don’t plan on mass-producing the device.”

“Their physical technology is superior to the IIC. But the IIC has an advantage with the Array.”

“It’s probably naive of me, but I expected the Telar to have more knowledge of the mind.”

“I have thought the same thing. But then we have Krishna’s words: ‘They have forgotten much of what they once knew. They have even lost the secret of their origin.’ He said that five thousand years ago, and they were at least that old when he was on earth.” I pause. “Seymour, is it possible they’ve lost the secret of immortality?”

“I don’t follow you. Numbria was an immortal, even though she was born only a few hundred years ago.”

“Yes, their offspring are still immortal. But could they have lost the key that gave them their longevity in the first place?”

“It’s an interesting theory. Where does it come from?”

“Haru wanted something from me. I could feel it. He needed my help.”

“He might have just wanted your blood.”

“The Telar don’t seem obsessed with vampiric blood, not as much as you’d expect. Look at the name they’ve given Matt.
The Abomination. No, they want protection from the Array. And they feel the answer might lie in Yaksha’s book.”

“I’ve only read a small fraction of it. Can you take the place of Mr. Garuda and translate it for me?”

“Sure. When I have time.”

“Do you still feel there’s a link between the Array and the Hydra?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t know what either one is?”

“That’s why I have you here. Our resident genius. You’re supposed to figure these things out.”

“I already know we don’t have enough information on either group.”

“That helps?”

“It helps me to know when I don’t know.”

“Matt’s mother is the oldest Telar on earth, but even she didn’t know the first ones, the old ones. They must have done something long ago, before recorded history began, that triggered their nervous systems into a higher level of functioning.”

Seymour doesn’t approve. “We can’t make that assumption. What if the Telar did nothing? What if they’re just genetically superior?”

“You mean, like they’re a different branch of humanity?”

“Yes. For all we know, their DNA may mimic vampire DNA and be self-correcting. That alone would keep them from aging. It probably would enhance their strength.”

“I’d consider that idea except for two facts: Krishna’s words that they lost their secret. And Haru’s desire for help. Believe me, I could see it in his eyes. He was a cold fish, but he’s clearly facing an enemy he isn’t sure he can defeat.” I pause. “I wish I hadn’t told him Shanti can block the Array.”

“He was torturing you. It’s only natural you let a few things slip.”

“I didn’t let it slip. I told him about Shanti deliberately. Anything to stop him from turning that damn dial.”

“Sita, if Haru had shown me the box the Pulse came in, I would have broken down and told him everything I know about you. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

I smile. “My darling Seymour. What would I do without you?”

“You love me that much?”

“You know I do.”

“Then maybe you can do me a small favor.”

“It’s already done.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t need to take all those pills every day. Last night, when you were asleep, I put a few drops of my blood in your veins. It killed the HIV virus.”

Seymour brightens. “Why did you decide to do it now?”

“After Arosa, I realized I have fallen for Krishna’s greatest illusion. I keep thinking I’m never going to die, but I could die any day. Even today.”

He leans over and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s stay on topic. How could the Telar have lost their secret of secrets?”

“That’s not so hard to understand. Chances are only a few knew the secret of how the Hydra worked. Those few would have wanted to keep it that way, because then they would have leverage over the rest of the Telar. Leverage they could use to stay in power.”

“But if the bulk of the Telar revolted against the Source—”

“Then they might have killed one or more of the Telar who knew the secret of secrets. They must have had plenty of revolts over five thousand years.”

I nod in agreement. “Or they could have had one huge revolt where the younger Telar ended up killing the original guys. Then the secret of the Hydra would have been lost forever. Until the IIC discovered it again.”