Authors: James Axler
K
RYSTY HAD BEEN WATCHING
the vid play out for she knew not how long. She had almost forgotten that something in the outside world was happening that had caused Howard to want her isolation. She did not know how much time had passed, she only knew that she was transfixed by the woman on the screen in front of her. She had a slight figure, her thin limbs and painfully twisted torso belying the porcelain-perfect features and the cultured, fluting voice. She sat uncomfortably on a chair in this very room, at some time in the recent past, speaking directly into a camera as though she were speaking directly to Krysty—though, of course, she could have been speaking to anyone who viewed this, even her own…what was he? Brother, son of her sister?
The woman had chosen her last few days alive to record, in a series of sessions, her personal history, that of her family and her concerns for the sole survivor she was soon to leave behind. And to do it in a manner that left Krysty in no doubt as to what she had to do.
The woman began by revealing that her name was Jenny, and that she and Howard were the last ones left alive of what had once been one of the most prosperous, powerful and influential families of predark times. This much Krysty knew from what Sid had told her. But what she hadn’t realized was the extent of that influence.
“O
UR FAMILY HAS MANY
antecedents with what are these days disparagingly known as WASPs. ‘These days.’ In truth, I feel sure that the savages above the surface no longer have any idea that a wasp was an insect, let alone that it means White Anglo-Saxon Protestant. Nor what that means. Lord, it becomes hard to rid oneself of such assumptions, and to seek to explain for any who may see this. Even if you are what I have just termed a savage. Perhaps you are not, but you see, to myself and to Howard, trapped down here since long before our own birth by fate and accidents of that very birth, that is what you are. Different standards, ways of viewing the world. That is what…No, I must do this in the right order.
“As you can see, I am soon to die. I know this, and in truth I am afraid of it only in one way. Not for myself, but for the poor boy I’ll leave behind. Whatever he has done to lead you to this recording, it is not his fault. He cannot be held responsible for the actions of many previous generations.
“Our family had a lot of power in the old world. It’s hard to explain to those of you who have no reference. Some records have survived, so perhaps you will know. Howard is named after one of our family who had no children acknowledged in his lifetime. However, genetics are strong, and this man who was a pioneer of air travel and weaponry, and owned studios that were dream factories, left a strong imprint on all of us. The family was good at making money, and was good with technology. In times when war is rife, these are good gifts. And, as I’m sure you have found in the outside world, even though there is not so much in the way of money and of technology, war is always rife.
“Money and technology make contacts. Our family was thus aware of what was about to happen long before it was actualized. Our companies, and those that were at least in part owned or who relied upon the contracts supplied by our companies for their own existence, were pressed to action. Much of our work was sanctioned by governments, utilizing technologies that were developed by their military arms. This made our own defense and safety simple. In the longer run, because we were able to call upon that expertise in order to build this underground complex in which you now sit. In the short term, because we were able to quell any opposition by using the power and influence we held. And where that did not work, well, it is probably nothing to be proud of, but man is a venal beast. Bribery and blackmail have been tools throughout history, and I suppose it is no different on the surface now.
“The family owned a vast amount of land in this state—or should I say, what used to be this state—and we had many of the elected officials who owed their very election to our power and patronage. So it was easy to avoid too many questions as this place was excavated and built. Many of them probably thought this was a government project, anyway, and so were afraid that too many questions would lead to them being taken away in the night, never to be seen again.
“So this place was built. One of us, in a spirit of fun, named it Murania. That was an underworld kingdom in an old film. We have it on video. Howard loves it dearly, and if that fool ancestor had known what he had set in motion, he would have been ashamed to have chosen such a name…No, perhaps not, shame is not something that has ever come easily to us, if I choose to be honest. So we were named after a joke. A prophetic one, as in the film the kingdom is destroyed by its own hubris. Much as we have been.
“We had family and servants. To ensure the maximum use from them they were dehumanized into the worker robots you may see, and Sid and Hammill, the living elements of the computer. They know how I feel about this. It is something that has tainted my life, that I can see the awful existence they have to endure because of the arrogance of my ancestors.
“But, having said that, has the fate of those of us who have followed them been any better? They were not stupid people, but they did not believe in diluting the family. The consequence of this, of course, has been shown over the last century. Children were born as lust ran riot. There was, after all, little to do in the long night of the nuclear winter. There were plenty of diversions, but nothing can replace the need to be outside of this box. And so the children begat children. Inbreeding…I know from intelligence reports that filter in via our systems that this is a problem for isolated communities. We were just as isolated, albeit in greater luxury.
“The children had things…wrong. They were deformed, prone to illness, mad. Miscarriage became more common as the combinations of family members became more labyrinthine, our DNA more entwined. Or do I mean our genetics? I suppose it doesn’t matter if I have that correct. It’s the results that matter.
“And the result was that life cycles became truncated. Gradually, deformities and illness claimed us before old age. As you can see, I have many things physically wrong. I count it as nothing short of a miracle that I have made it this far. I have, thankfully, not been blessed with issue, as they used to say. But my sister was—she was impregnated by our father, shortly before he died. Howard is the result.
“And this is what you must know. Howard is the first of us to look physically perfect for some time. And he is. For in him the taint is not visible. But it is there. He is, in many ways, a sweet and innocent boy. He watches the old videos, reads the old stories, and he is immersed in a world that takes him away from the sterility of our reality. But that is what I fear.
“When I am gone, there will be none to temper him. He has no notion of reality and fantasy. He believes only what his own insane logic will lead him to believe is the truth, no matter how much he has to bend what is before him. He has no idea what the world is really like out there. You do. You must, as to see this you would have had to…I’m sorry, I’m beginning to ramble. My illness is growing worse. My body is as twisted inside as it is on the outside. Every breath has always been a battle, and now it grows more and more a battle that I cannot win.
“But Howard…Since he was a small boy, and so strong and virile, I have always counseled that he should not be allowed outside. There was talk between my sister and father that he should go, as he was strong, and the surface is now relatively safe. They may have been insane and inbred, as possibly am I, but they were lucid enough to realize that I could not conceive, and any hope for the future line lay in Howard going beyond and of necessity tainting the bloodline. I wonder, am I the mad one in this setting that I saw the possibility of my mating with him as repulsive? If the insane becomes the norm, then do the sane become the mad?
“It doesn’t matter, really, does it? I win as I was left standing as they died. Howard has been allowed out of the underground as he grew. There was nothing I could do to stop him. After all, he is big and strong and I am…not. But I was careful to limit him, to set boundaries that he stuck to because he loves me, and wants to make me happy. There were excuses about why he must not go far. He was happy to believe them, as he was content to believe me. He has never been beyond the boundaries of the old ranch, always limited himself to the old marking posts.
“But I will soon be dead. I know this. I can feel it creeping upon me, and in truth I do not fear it. For myself, I will welcome relief from the endless struggle of staying alive. But I fear my death for Howard. He will have no one except Sid and Hammill, and they can do nothing but obey him. I know that there is technology down here that would have been formidable in the old world. In the world as it is now, it could do untold damage to whatever rebuilding is taking place.
“Howard believes implicitly in the old stories as though they were truth, as though human behavior were that simple. To him, it is. When I am gone, there will be no hand to stay him. I fear for him. He will, eventually, do terrible things. He will not mean them to be. But it is in his nature to see the world in such a simplistic manner. And the madness…I fear that the taint will lead him into awful acts. His temper is strong, and emotionally he is still a small child.
“It pains me to say this, for I love him, but without a steadying hand, I fear for what he will do. Only he has the power to actuate the destruction of this place. It’s all genetics, you see. That and the randomness of numbers. Only he can destroy, but the threat can be stayed. I fear that he must be stopped, even at the expense of his life.”
T
HE VID RAMBLED ON
for a while longer. Jenny was obviously in great pain, and very near to buying the farm when she recorded her statement, but there had been enough moments of clarity for Krysty to see that the woman was saner than the young man she had left behind. And the points she had made only reinforced what Krysty had been told by Sid, and what she had concluded for herself.
The problem she faced was no easy one, though. The entire complex was geared toward Howard, as he was the only one of his genetic line left. How could she effect the destruction of the complex and her escape when nothing would respond, except to him?
She hit a key, the screen went blank.
“Sid? Am I still locked in?”
“I’m afraid so, Krysty,” he replied in his sibilant tones. There was a longing in his voice.
“I know, I know,” she murmured.
And what was going on aboveground that had precipitated this?
N
IGHT WAS FALLING FAST
. Jak was now squatting on the back of the wag, still and silent, eyes scanning the horizon. Like Mildred and Doc, he had recovered from the mild concussions of earlier, and the only sign of his injury was the dressing that covered the cut on his temple.
Ryan and J.B. were still standing by the side of the wag, as though they hadn’t moved for hours. The chill wind of a desert night began to flick tendrils of cold air around them.
In the wag, Mildred and Doc were preparing a meal, the old man experimentally clicking his bruised jaw every now and then to see if it would still move. The noise was irritating the hell out of Mildred, who kept giving him vicious glares to which he was oblivious.
“How long wait?” Jak said eventually. Ryan could have sworn that not even his lips moved, he was so immobile.
“As long as we have to. Force the bastard’s hand,” the one-eyed man said softly.
J.B. looked sideways at him. He could tell from the mildness of tone how much his old friend was keeping his temper reined in. He knew that Ryan’s temper could only hold for so long.
Longer than Jak’s.
“Nothing soon, make recce alone. See what draw out.”
Ryan shook his head. “We can’t risk it.”
Jak sighed. Still, seemingly, without moving a muscle. “Can’t go like this. Chill slowly.”
“I know,” Ryan answered in a whisper. “But what the fuck else can we do?”
J.B. frowned. “It could…We’re in the right area, I guess.”
Ryan looked at him sharply. “For what?”
J.B. shrugged. “If you’ve still got that locket Krysty gave you…”
Fireblast! Ryan could feel it burning a hole in his pocket. That was what had been nagging him. His anger and grief at losing Krysty had clouded his reason, made his thinking blurred. Not for the first time, he thanked whatever fates there may be that he had J. B. Dix as his friend.
The locket just might be the edge he was looking for.
“Sid,” she said softly, “can you hear me?”
“Yes, Krysty, I can divide my attention between posts and talk with many voices.”
“Nice trick. Sid, how are my friends?”
“The armored vehicle they were using is outside the minefield. They are safe. They are, however, still within range of our missile strike. But I suspect Howard does not wish to harm them. At least, not yet. I still have enough of my humanity left to be able to assess his mood. His is loath to dismiss his original plan to incorporate them into his mission, using you to persuade them, assuming, as he has, that he has your approval.”
“He does?”
“He thinks this.”
“Guess he sees what he wants to, right?”
“I think it would be fair to say that he has a view of the world that is self-focused to an almost unnatural degree.”
Krysty allowed herself a smile. The man-machine’s careful phrasing amused her.
“The guy’s fucking nuts, Sid. Not his fault, but he is.”
“Blunt, but fair,” Sid replied with a dry chuckle in his tone. “But as I’m sure you’re aware, this makes him volatile. Currently, he is waiting for them to make the next move. He has no experience of tactics outside the formulaic fictions of the past that he sees as history. His patience is wearing thin, but his indecisiveness is their safety for a short while longer, at least.”
“Okay, then I need to get the hell out of here and be with him. If I’m there, I can influence or distract him, right?”
“Certainly one or the other. There is the slight problem of my programming. Because of this, I am compelled to secure the door should you attempt to leave. There is, unfortunately, nothing I can do about this. Any personal wishes I may have are overridden by the mainframe.”
“Sid, I need to get out of here,” she said earnestly.
“I know.” He paused. “I have an idea. Please try to be patient for a few moments.”
She could try, but as she sat on the edge of her seat, muscles tensed and bunched, she knew that she was on to a losing prospect.
She could break the door if she called on Gaia power, but to what end? Brute force would only get her so far. Besides which, after the experience when the power became trapped in her, she was scared that calling on it so soon could cause lasting damage. She had never been scared of the gift before, but it would—she knew—take her a while to regain her confidence.
No. This would have to be done with thought, not muscle.
She hoped Sid would be successful. And soon.
H
OWARD SAT
in front of the console, pondering his next move. It seemed to him that he was in a stalemate with Cawdor and his crew.
It was a relief when Sid’s voice came to him.
“Howard, if I might intrude for a moment?”
“Glad of the distraction, Sid. This waiting is getting to me, old friend. What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you about Storm Girl.”
Howard’s brow creased. He couldn’t remember using that name out loud. How did Sid know? Perhaps he had.
“Does she know that I think of her as that?”
“No, she does not, Howard. Perhaps it is time you told her. I can only make suggestions, but it seems to me that she is ready for the next stage of your plan. I have been monitoring what she has been viewing from the archives, and she is immersing herself in the history that you value so highly. I think she would be open to your suggestions. I would add that she has not, so far, attempted to leave her room. But if she does, and finds that I have had to secure as per your earlier directive, it may not create the impression that you wish her to have.”
Howard pondered that for a moment. If his trusted friend was correct, he ran the risk of alienating Storm Girl before anything had been settled, and this was the last thing that he would wish. To have her by his side would steady his hand at this crucial time.
“Very well, Sid. Countermand the order to secure her door. She may come and go as she pleases…in fact, tell her that I request the pleasure of her presence here.”
“Very good, Howard. I think you have made a wise choice, if I may say.”
“Thank you, Sid.”
Yes, Howard thought, keeping his smile to himself, this may be the best choice he had made in his life.
“K
RYSTY
.”
“Yes, Sid?”
“The door is no longer secured. You are free to move at will. Furthermore, Howard requests your presence in the command complex.”
She shook her head. “How did you manage that?”
“You must remember, I have been a servant to the family since the nuclear winter. I have seen them all be born, grow and die. They are from the same stock, they have the same habits and attitudes as one another, in varying degrees. Howard may be unstable and prone to insanity, but he is still one of them.”
“Then why can’t you persuade him somehow to put you and Hammill—”
“Out of our misery? Krysty, Howard may be unstable, but isn’t quite as—ah—fucking nuts as all that.”
Krysty laughed, then got to her feet. “Lead the way, Sid.”
“Very well. One thing—do not show surprise at anything he may say to you.”
“Care to fill me in?” she asked as she left her room and followed the trail Sid laid for her by the simple expedient of dimming the lights except for those leading in the direction she should walk.
“I think it better if your reactions are genuine. I just fear that shock or surprise may be more than he can bear right now.”
“Great.” It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear—be genuine, but not shocked, which, seeing as Sid was warning her, was almost an inevitability.
She walked down the corridor and up a staircase that took her to another level. Paintings of the family lined the walls, and she could see the physical resemblance to Howard and Jenny in all of them. As she drew near a room from which she could hear Hammill’s voice, interspersed with that of Howard, she paused to consider. With a gene pool that small, it was no wonder that whatever good Howard had intended had been perverted and corrupted by the insanity of inbreeding.
She took a deep breath and entered the command complex, immediately struck dumb by the amount of comp equipment contained within the room. She doubted that she had ever seen so much in one place that was actually all in working order.
Her eyes were drawn to the screens that showed the perimeter of the ranch land. Even though darkness had descended, the cameras had switched to infrared, and she could see Ryan and J.B. conversing at the side of the wag. Jak was still seated on the body of the vehicle, as immobile as she knew he had to have been for hours. Doc and Mildred were on the other side, near a small fire that they were using to cook. There was an almost unnatural air of calm about the scene, despite the circumstances.
She felt a pang deep within her chest, a need to be with them, a need to get back to them.
A need to stop this crazy bastard wiping them out, no matter what it might cost her.
“Hi, Krysty,” Howard said, with a smile that still didn’t reach those dead eyes, but seemed from the tone of his voice to be genuine. He held out his hand to her, palm upward. It was half imprecation to take his hand, half a beckoning. She chose to return it with a smile, moving into the complex and using her hand to indicate the screens, hoping that he would take this as interest and not as a rebuff. Above all else, she wanted to avoid making his temper flare.
“This is impressive. What does it do?”
Her guess was correct. Like all small boys at heart, Howard was obsessed by his toys. Krysty and Mildred had often swapped the opinion that J.B.’s ordnance obsession was similarly fueled. The important factor in the postnuclear society being that such young boy obsessions were now the difference between living and buying the farm. No matter, not when she saw the way Howard’s face lit up with a kind of joy, both at the chance to show off his knowledge and at the same time share it.
“This is the nerve center of Murania. From here I can control all of the complex—with the able assistance of Sid and Hammill, of course—and also keep an eye on what is happening in the outside world. The area around the old ranch is full of security devices, both defensive and offensive. We have missiles for air attack, which of course is unlikely as there are no planes that I know of these days, and also mines and gun emplacements that are remotely controlled for ground attack.”
“And who are those people?” she asked, trying to keep the tremble of anger from her voice.
Howard gave her an indulgent grin. “I think you know who they are. I’m sure you can’t have forgotten them already.”
She wanted to wipe that smug grin from his face by breaking his jaw in two. But she needed him to be conscious and able to act. She needed to use her guile to control him. So, instead, she gritted her teeth and said, “Let me see…” She pretended to study the screens intently, peering as though shortsighted. In truth, she was using her peripheral vision to take in the layout of the console that ran the length of the room, memorizing as much as she could where switches, faders, keypads and mouse remotes were positioned. True, she had no idea what most of them were for. Nonetheless, if she knew where these things were now, it would be easy to remember the positions of any Howard may use in her presence.
Eventually she said, “It’s Ryan and my friends who you took me away from.” She turned to him, putting on a look that she hoped to Gaia was ingenuous. “Why did you do that, Howard?”
“You know why, Krysty. It would have been difficult to have come to you all and explain my mission without antagonizing you, or arousing suspicion. Throughout history as I have studied it, since my youth, it seems that the best way to convert a mass, to convince them of the rightness of your cause, is to take a few influential figures and persuade them, so that they can help to spread your word, your cause.”
“You think I’m influential?” she asked him, giving him the best big-eyes look she could muster. In truth, she wanted to kick the coldheart bastard in the balls, but that could wait.
He nodded. “I think you have the most influence on the group because you have the ear of Ryan Cawdor, and he is the leader.” She noticed that as he said this his right hand, which had been resting on the back of the track chair, dug into the leather of the seat padding, knuckles whitening under the pressure.
“Perhaps I do,” she said, feigning that this had never occurred to her before, which wasn’t hard, as it hadn’t. She thought it was crap, but to keep him unaware, she wanted him to think that he had given her a great insight. She continued. “That had never really struck me, but I guess Ryan does listen to me. And it’s true that I certainly am impressed with what you’ve been doing here, and on the outside.”
“I knew you’d understand,” he said, his face split by an idiot grin. He stepped forward, holding out his hands to her as though to embrace her, then pulling back unsteadily, as though unsure what to do. He had seen how men were supposed to react to women on the old videos, and he had all his instincts telling him what he should do, but he was unused to real human beings, and he was caught in something that was unusual for him: fear.
Krysty could see all this, understood in a flash. And although it went against every instinct she herself had, she sacrificed her own sense of ease for the chance to aid the greater good.
She stepped forward into his hesitant embrace, hugging him. Tentatively, he drew his head back. She closed her eyes, suppressed the gag reflex and kissed him.
Gaia, she thought, the payoff for this had better be worth it….
She pulled back from him, composing herself into a smile.
“Sid has told me about what you’ve been doing,” Howard said excitedly. For a moment her gut lurched. Had Sid betrayed her? A momentary fear, passing as Howard continued. “He says you’ve been studying the old videos, learning about the old ways, and that you’ve been engrossed in them.”
The relief flooded through her. She sounded almost gushing, and she didn’t have to fake it. “Yeah, oh yeah, I’ve been learning an awful lot from what I’ve seen, and it’s made me look at what you’re trying to do here in a whole different way.” All the while, she kept her peripheral vision on the screen. She could see that they looked safe, but also wary. They were being kept at bay by something.
“That’s excellent. I knew that if you just had a chance to study the old ways, you’d see what I want to achieve. Now listen…”
He began to babble. While he talked incessantly, words tumbling over themselves in a torrent that became, at times, almost incomprehensible, she fixed her attention on him but also scanned as much as was possible. Sid had been reluctant to tell her exactly what had happened, but from some of the damage visible on some of the screens, she could tell that either missiles or mines had been used, and that they had not been aimed at obliterating the vehicle. She knew that if that was the case, then they would have bought the farm long ago. The ordnance and tech here could blow the balls off an ant. No, he had wanted to keep them at bay until he had been granted a chance to recruit her fully to his cause.
Which he was doing even as she worked this out, and to be as truthful as she could never be to his face, she couldn’t believe the crap he was coming out with. Storm Girl? The consort of Thunder Rider? Obviously he thought it was a great idea, and one that she would readily agree with. In truth, if she had been watching as many of the old vids as both she and Sid had claimed, then she could understand Howard’s reasoning. But Storm Girl? Because of her fiery nature? Was he going to expect her to wear a costume like his?