Children Of The Mountain (Book 2): The Devil You Know (36 page)

I run back to the scanner room. The noise is deafening, louder even than the sounds of Jax’s assault on the barricade behind me. My hand hovers over the emergency stop button. Mags has barely had half the time she needs in there but I can’t wait any longer. They’ll be through in moments.

I hit the button and the banging from the machine stops immediately. There’s a pause and then a loud click as the locks disengage. My ears are ringing but behind me I hear the Viking slam into the door once more.

The electric motors start up and the platform slowly starts to slide back out. I bend down and call to Mags that we have to go; the soldiers are coming. But there’s no response. I grab her leg and squeeze, calling her name again, louder this time.

Beneath me the platform continues to slide out, finally revealing her face. Her eyes are open but they stare up sightlessly. She doesn’t respond when I shake her shoulder. Her lips part and a single, bloodstained stream of saliva drips from the corner of her mouth and begins to pool on the vinyl beneath her cheek.

The platform reaches the end of its travel and stops. The arm she has draped around the kid falls away and he slips out from underneath it and slides to the floor.

*

W
HAT HAVE I DONE?

The scanner was supposed to rid Mags of the virus but instead it’s fried her circuits, just like the girl in the closet in Shreve.

From behind me there’s another crash and now a sustained shriek as Jax pushes the lockers back the final few inches.

The soldiers will be here in seconds. We have to go. I look down at the kid, lying on the floor. I can’t carry both of them.

I bend down and pick up Mags, surprised at how little she weighs. She doesn’t resist as I lift her off the platform. Her head falls back and her cheek comes to rest against my neck. The skin there feels impossibly cold.

I take one last look at the kid and then I set off down the corridor towards the cavern. I step out into the dim glow from the emergency lights. Eden’s narrow concrete streets are still deserted.

I glance along Front Street, my mind racing. I need to put her somewhere safe from the soldiers until I can figure out what to do. In front of me there’s the mess. Its bulkhead door is stout, the buttressed hinges thick; I doubt even Jax could breach them. But the door doesn’t lock and there are few places in there to hide other than up on the roof. I consider it for a second and then discount it. I can’t count on that way being open to me.

I make for the old pedestrian tunnels, leaving the main cavern behind. The darkness slips around me, and for once I am glad of it. I pass the stores, the power plant cavern and the reservoir, finally coming to a halt in front of the door to the armory. Scudder must have fixed it because the red light at the bottom of the keypad is blinking. I only pray he didn’t think to change the code.

I enter 011016, the verse from the Book of Matthew that was Kane’s favorite. The light flickers rapidly for a second and then switches to continuous green. From somewhere behind the door I hear an electric motor, and then the sound of bolts being drawn back. Finally there’s a click and the door recesses a fraction.

I step inside and lay her on the ground. The light switch is where I remember it. The air’s still heavy with the smell of gun oil but when the bulkhead lamps flicker to life they illuminate mostly empty racks. Only a couple of assault rifles still stand to attention near the back, the dark metal gleaming dully in the pale yellow glow.

I close the door and kneel down beside her. Her breath comes in short, irregular gasps. Occasionally her throat convulses weakly, as if she’s having trouble swallowing. I turn her onto her side because that’s what the first aid book I used to keep under my bed in the farmhouse said you had to do. Her lips are tinged with blue. I touch my hand to her cheek, no longer caring whether she might still be infected. The skin there feels frozen. I shuck off my parka and cover her with it. It seems futile but I don’t know what else to do.

I close my eyes, trying to remember anything else I read in the first aid book that might be useful right now. But there’s nothing. The only thing I can think of is Hicks. He’s been living with the virus for ten years. If anyone knows what to do for her it’ll be him.

Spidey doesn’t think this is much of an idea, even by my standards. He reminds me that I left Hicks to close the blast door and now the soldiers are inside. It had to have been him who let them in.

I look back down at Mags, lying on the floor under my parka.

He might still be willing to help her. He told me Gilbey wanted us both back, real bad. And there’s something else I might be able to trade. I bend down and take the map from my parka and slip it into my pants pocket. I grab one of the guns from the rack and a magazine from a crate on the shelf. It slides up into the slot and clicks home.

I take one last look at Mags and then step out of the armory. I re-enter the code and wait while the motors slide the bolts back into place. Then I shoulder the rifle and run back to the main cavern.

*

T
HE SOFT GLOW
from the curfew lights appears around the curve of the tunnel. As I draw level with the stores I slow down and inch along the granite, trying to be as quiet as possible. I’m straining for any sound but all I can hear is the thumping of my heart, the pulsing of blood in my ears. When I get to the end I stop. From here I can see all the way down Front Street. Eden still looks deserted.

I step out of the darkness and dart around the side of the mess, pressing myself into the shadows. I take a couple of deep breaths and follow the building’s riveted steel down as far as Juvie Row.

I halt at the corner and look down the street. The second dorm along’s where I used to bunk. I make my way towards it, stopping at the end of the mess building to check the way’s still clear before scooting across. When I reach the door I place my hand on the latch and gently press down, feeling for the mechanism’s biting point. There’s a soft clunk as it engages and then a gentle groan as the door swings out on its hinges. I step inside. The main lights are out but the safeties are on. The air is musty, stale, like no-one’s been in here in months.

I make my way past the showers and head straight for the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. The metal amplifies the slightest sound but I know how to tread softly and I pad silently up, the rifle bouncing on my shoulder as I ascend. When I get to the third floor I stop and reach up for the access hatch above my head, feeling for the hex bolts with my fingertips. Thankfully they’re still loose and within moments I’ve removed the last one. Out of habit I check there’s no one on the stairs or the landing below and then I slide the panel out of the way. The metal protests a little as it shifts, but then it’s done.

I unsling the rifle, slide it into the crawl space and pull myself up after it. Moments later I’m climbing out onto the roof. The cavern’s granite dome is right above me. I keep as low as I can until I reach the front of the building and then lie down on the cold metal.

The mess blocks my view of the corridor that leads to the tunnel. Its roof would have offered a better vantage point, but as I look over I can see I was right not to try it. The pee bottle I left there after my descent through the vent shaft is gone. If Peck found that it’s a good bet he would have locked down the hatch too.

I turn my attention back to the narrow strip of Front Street I can see. There’s still no sign of the soldiers. They should be in here by now; I wonder what’s keeping them. Just as I’m thinking this I hear a shouted warning and a second later there’s a loud bang followed by a muffled crump and plumes of dust belch from the corridor that leads to the blast door.

A few moments later the arc lights flick on, instantly bathing the cavern in their harsh white glare. I wait, trying to work out what’s happening. Soon I hear footsteps from somewhere behind me, near the back of the cavern. I crawl over to the side of the roof just in time to see Kane marching up from Back Street.

He’s not the President I remember. The mane of white hair, normally so carefully combed back, is wild, unruly, and the heavily stubbled face underneath looks gaunt, stretched. His suit is crumpled, and there’s no tie; I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him without one. His back’s as straight as ever though, and in spite of the unkempt air he cuts an imposing figure as he strides up towards Front Street.

There’s another sound from the back of the cavern and as I look around again I see Quartermaster, struggling to catch up. He’s still a large man, but a shadow of his former self. I guess no belt’s gone untightened over the winter months.

I turn my attention back to Kane. He’s already reached Front Street. He must see something I can’t because he stops mid-stride and raises himself up to his full height.

‘What’s going on here? Who are you men?’

There’s a pause and then I hear a familiar voice. The accent’s Southern, just like Kane’s, but it has none of the charm or polish.

‘Well look who we got here.’

From around the side of the mess Truck steps into view. He’s still wearing his parka but now it’s unzipped. In one hand there’s a dark shape that can only be a pistol.

‘I’m your commander-in-chief, soldier. You will address me as Mr. President or sir. And holster that sidearm.’

Truck makes a show of hitching up his pants, then he turns his head and spits a stream of something brown onto the dusty concrete to let Kane know what he thinks of that. Just as he does this Quartermaster rounds the corner, huffing and puffing.

‘And if it isn’t the Secretary of State for
De
-fense.’ Truck turns back to Kane and points the gun at his chest. If Kane flinches from up here I can’t see it. ‘It’s your lucky day, Mr. President; Doc said we was to bring you back alive.’ He holds the pistol there a moment longer and then swings it in Quartermaster’s direction. ‘Doc never said nuthin’ about you.’

There’s a loud bang. Quartermaster’s mouth opens even wider and he staggers backwards, clutching his chest. His legs give out and he collapses in the middle of the street. Kane watches but makes no move to help. For a few seconds Quartermaster continues to stare up at the cavern, his chest rising and falling beneath his hands. Then he draws one final gasp, lets it out, hitches in a smaller one and just quits. His chest stops mid-heave and settles slowly.

Truck slides the pistol back into its holster and adjusts his pants again.

‘Boots, bring the President here out into the tunnel and put him with the others, willya?’

Private Kavanagh appears and takes the President by the elbow. Kane shows no sign of resisting as he’s led away. I tear my eyes off Quartermaster. Down on Front Street Truck’s issuing more orders. He turns around and points a finger at somebody behind him.

‘Jax, you go find the girl now. Well, I don’t know. Try behind you for a start.’ A second later I catch a glimpse of the Viking as he appears briefly on the other side of the mess before he lumbers off into the pedestrian tunnel.

I haven’t seen Weasel yet, but I’m guessing he won’t have strayed too far from Truck’s side. I don’t know where Hicks is, but with Jax off looking for Mags and Boots out by the blast door I figure the soldiers are about as split up as they’re going to be. I’m not sure when I’ll get a better chance. I don’t have much in the way of a plan, other than to get Hicks to Mags before she gets any worse. For now that will have to do.

A few seconds later I’m lowering myself down onto the landing. I head down the stairs as quietly as possible and make for the door. I push it open a crack and peer out. Main Street’s still deserted. I step out and cross quickly to the other side. The arc lights have banished the shadows and there are few places to hide. I press myself up against the side of the building anyway and inch forward towards Front Street. When I get to the corner I stop. Quartermaster’s lying right there, still staring up at the cavern’s granite dome, his blood already darkening the dusty concrete beneath him. I slide the rifle off my shoulder. I pull the handle back to chamber the first round and raise it. My thumb slides up and flicks the switch that takes it off safe.

I take a deep breath and step out onto the street.

Truck’s got his back turned, so at first he doesn’t notice me. On the other side of him I see Weasel. He’s holding one of the electric batons in one hand; his other’s gripping the end of the catchpole. The noose is around Johnny’s neck but the kid’s as he was when I found him and Mags. It looks like they’ve had to drag him out here.

Weasel’s eyes narrow as he spots me. A dark purple bruise has spread itself across the bridge of his nose and there’s a neat red rectangle of angry-looking skin around his lips where the duct tape’s been pulled off. It looks like a chunk of hair’s missing from above his ear too. He raises the baton and points it at me. The arc lights catch the two ugly metal prongs that protrude from the end.

‘Hey Truck, behind you.’

Truck turns around to face me. He pokes the wad of tobacco around with his tongue then rests his hands on his hips and squirts another stream of brown juice onto the ground.

‘Well what have we got here? Looks like Huckleberry’s found his-self a weapon.’

I keep the rifle pointed at him and take a step forward.

‘Where’s Hicks?’

A half-smile creases Truck’s lumpen features and his small dark eyes twinkle with amusement.

‘Well wouldn’t you like to know.’

If staring into the business end of the rifle’s bothering Truck he’s not letting on. Maybe he reckons I don’t have it in me to do this. I think of how I found Mags in the cage, the marks I saw across her ribs. I doubt he could be more wrong.

‘I would.’

Trucks stares at me for a long moment and then fishes in his pocket. My finger tightens on the trigger, in case he’s about to try something, but when the hand re-emerges it’s holding a radio. There’s a squawk of static as he presses a button on the side of it and I realize how stupid I’ve been.