Tortoise Soup (37 page)

“It’s over, Rachel.”

I’ll never know if the pronouncement was meant for my own death or his. I concentrated on squeezing my fingers as hard as I could against Anderson’s, which covered the trigger. Then the sound of gunfire roared through my limbs and my body flew backward, the revolver clutched tight to my chest. I looked up and saw Brian still standing, even as the sickeningly sweet scent of blood filled the air. My mind frozen in terror, I held the gun out before me and shot twice more. When I stopped, his body lay crumpled, as lifeless as everything else in the tunnel.

I wanted to laugh and cry in relief—until I saw Pilot. He was lying on his side, blood running from his nose, each breath racking his body with pain. I knew he was dying and that I was losing my closest friend.

I also knew there was only one thing left I could do, breaking the only vow I’d made when I’d taken this job. Cradling his head in my lap, I brushed my lips against his fur and thanked him for saving my life. Then, standing, I held the Magnum steady in both hands and taking careful aim, shot Pilot between the eyes.

My mind was numb as I limped back through the tunnel, my hands pressing blindly along the wall to guide the way. It seemed forever before I began to smell the desert air, sweeter than any perfume. For the first time, I knew that my demons had never been monsters or things that go bump in the night. They were tangible, made of real flesh and of bone. Even worse, they now had a face, bringing the terror closer to home.

Already light-headed, I felt almost giddy as the entrance came into view, and I picked up my pace. But something was blocking my way. Losing my balance, I tumbled to the ground, where Noah stared blankly, a bullet hole smack through his head. A wave of panic crested, threatening to burst, as death closed in around me. I scrambled up, fear propelling my body out of the tunnel and past the steel door, until I was standing under the night sky with a ceiling of stars burning blissfully in their orbs. I wanted to cry until there were no tears left. Instead, I threw back my head and howled in rage, my screams covered by the roar of haul paks as they continued to make their way down the road.

I don’t remember how
I made it back to the ark. All I knew was that when I opened my eyes, Georgia was hovering over me, a spoon in her hand and the smell of chicken soup filling the air.

“Thank God,” Georgia said, her eyes uncharacteristically brimming with tears. “You scared the hell out of us, Porter.”

“Us?” My tongue felt heavy and dry, making it an effort to speak.

Suzie Q poked her head out from behind the tie-dyed curtain. “Yeah. Georgia, Frankie S., and me,” she said, though the tarantula was nowhere in sight. Her eyes were swollen and red as if she had been crying.

“I have to tell you what happened.” I struggled to sit up, my stomach grumbling loudly.

“What you have to do is eat,” Georgia ordered, shoving a spoonful of soup in my mouth. “You’ve been going back and forth between a high fever and chills for the past two days. As for food, I’m on my last pot of soup. Let’s hope you can keep this one down.”

“But I have to tell you about Noah,” I insisted, not knowing when I had ever been so hungry.

The spoon came to a halt in midair as Georgia’s face froze into a mask of grief.

“You already did, Porter,” she informed me softly. Then she cleared her throat. “We know what happened. Don’t you remember?” I shook my head as I inhaled the soup. Looking up, I saw Georgia and Suzie Q silently watching, their cheeks wet with tears. Then the flood of events came rushing back to me.

“We have to get to the mine! Noah’s body is still there. So is Pilot’s.” My voice cracked as the two women continued to stare, neither saying a word. “We need to prove what DOE has been doing!”

Georgia shook her head slowly, as if dealing with an unruly child. “It’s over, Porter,” she said, echoing Anderson’s very last words.

Icy fingers ran their way up my spine, the soup turning cold in my stomach.

“Do you really think you can prove anything?” Georgia continued, a hard edge to her voice. “Trust me. You’ll never be able to beat DOE.”

But by this time, my feet were already on the floor and I was shakily heading for the door.

“I’m damn well going to try. I’ll need help in getting both Noah and Pilot out, and there’s no time to call anyone and explain.” I looked at both expressionless faces, wondering if they had even heard what I’d said. “Who’s going to come with me?”

Suzie Q slipped wordlessly behind the curtain. I didn’t bother to wait for Georgia Peach’s answer, certain of what she would say.

I walked outside and blinked, surprised to find daylight. Noah’s beat-up Suburban was parked in its usual place, his backpack lying beside it. Grabbing the pack, I headed over to the Blazer, where I found Georgia leaning against its side.

“Jesus Christ, you’re stubborn as hell,” she sniffled, and then blew her nose. “Wasn’t the other night enough for you? Do you want to die as well?”

That was the last thing I wanted. But even more, I wanted to prove what DOE had done. Otherwise nothing in my life would ever make sense.

“Don’t you care about what happened to Noah?” I quietly asked, hoping to goad her to action.

Georgia’s eyes hardened and then bore straight through me. “Hell, Porter. We may not do the usual pissing and moaning and groaning, like I suppose you’re used to. But Noah was part of our family. So what say you cut the moral crap and let’s get under way.”

We headed out in the Blazer without another word, silence stretching between us until we reached the former Golden Shaft mine.

The front gate was locked and the place deserted, without a soul in sight. I didn’t bother to beep the horn or wait for guards. It was obvious no one was there. Breaking and entering was fast becoming my second profession. I picked the lock and slowly drove through the gate, inspecting the site that had become part of my fate.

Every haul pak was gone, the absence of their roar more deafening than the thunder of their engines had been. I searched for the spot where Noah and I had begun our assault. Daylight bathed the area in quiet indifference. A golden eagle circled lazily overhead, the desert caught up in a midday yawn. I parked the vehicle and handed a flashlight to Georgia, glancing up at the cloudless sky. I was fully prepared for a Black Hawk to swoop down upon us, its cacophonous din invading my soul. But the only sound was the overpowering silence of the deadly still land.

I led the way, scrambling up the hillside to the top level, not yet ready to witness the remains of Noah and Pilot. A skull and crossbones had been newly painted on the door and a padlock put back in place. A sign warned, “Abandoned Mine. Danger. Keep Out.” The electric meter box and phone were nowhere in sight.

I pulled out the metal snips and cut my way past the front door, no longer giving a damn about DOE property. Though the inner steel grate was now gone, the second door stood open, almost as if someone knew we’d be there. My heart picked up its pace as I flicked on my flashlight and expectantly shone its golden beam around the room. Just as quickly, my heart came to a stop. Everything I had seen only two days ago was no longer there.

My body broke into a drenching sweat, my eyes refusing to believe what they saw. The mainframe samurai warrior had vanished, as had every single piece of equipment. It was as if the very tunnel had swallowed up the miles of conduit, along with hundreds of electrical cords, snuffing out their circulatory powers. My brain buzzed, clouding my thoughts, as I tried to figure out where I had gone wrong. I was certain we were on the right level. But the room that once blazed bright as the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree was now as barren as snowfall under the hot Mojave sun.

“Everything I described to you was here! I swear it!” I exclaimed, trying to reassure myself as well as convince Georgia, who looked blankly at me without saying a word.

I was rushing back through the corridor, afraid I was either dreaming or had truly gone mad, when the block of cement finally appeared, as solid and reassuring as an ancient artifact from a faraway land. But even this was stripped of the gauges and instruments that had adorned it.

“What did you expect?” Georgia sarcastically asked, perching herself on top of the block. “That there would be a neon sign up announcing, ‘Nuclear test facility. Come right this way’?”

I ran out of the empty room and slid down to the lower level, where a spanking new lock had been attached to that door as well and the gully beneath it filled. Cursing silently, I wielded the metal snips like an executioner’s sword, quickly severing the chain.

In my mind’s eye, Noah lay on the tunnel floor, the bullet wound in his forehead puckered and red. But his body was nowhere in sight. I made a mad dash for the air shaft, my heart beating so hard I felt faint, only to find that each skeleton had been removed. I hurried on, the whimper of pack rats filling my ears, yet no trace of them could be found. Finally I entered the room where I’d fought for my life, my pulse pounding in a combination of anger and fear. Nothing of Pilot was left. It was as though all the bodies had vaporized into thin air, their very existence expunged, my memory mocked and denied.

I wanted to tear down the walls, blast open the cave, find Brian’s corpse, and strangle it with my bare hands. Instead, I was left to swallow my rage.

“You’re right, Georgia. They’ve won,” I finally conceded, my anger building inside.

Laughter nipped at my heels with razor sharp teeth, ghostly taunts whispering that I’d failed. Frustration devoured me as I scoured the room again, but any telltale signs had been forever obliterated.

Wordlessly I began to head back, my mind racking up losses, when a glitter of gold caught my eye. My feet froze in place. There, nestled between two small rocks, lay the St. Christopher medal, which had protected me just as Noah had promised. I picked up the necklace with its memories branded inside and after a moment turned and offered it to Georgia. It was the only proof there would ever be of what we both knew had taken place.

Georgia Peach held it in her hands as carefully as if it were the last of its kind, then slipped the chain over my head.

“It’s yours, Porter,” she said. “You earned it. If I were you, I’d hold onto it tight for a very long time.”

We drove back to the ark as silently as we came, the gold medal burning against my skin. The stillness was finally broken by the crazed barking of the whirlwind of Lhasas. Georgia got out of the passenger door and leaned in on the open window as Suzie Q slinked to her side.

“What are you planning to do now?” Georgia asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

I thought about it for a moment, unsure of what the next step would be. I knew I had better odds trying to break the bank at a casino in Vegas than I did going up against DOE.

“Yeah. Sure, you could go back to Disneyland. But why the hell would you go there when you’ve always got the ark?” Suzie Q chimed in.

I smiled, appreciative of the invitation. But I could already feel the ark’s ghosts settling in.

“What bothers me is that Garrett and Holmes are still out there. They’ve gotten away scot-free.”

“Don’t bother worrying about Holmes.” Suzie Q giggled mysteriously. “He’s being taken care of even as we speak.”

I noticed that her shoulder was again empty of one very large and intimidating tarantula.

“Listen, not that I’m looking to befriend him or anything, but where’s Frank Sinatra these days?” I asked.

Suzie Q gave a sinister grin. “Frank’s pretty busy right now. It seems he got hold of something that he’ll be feasting on for a long time to come.”

Georgia Peach chirped in before I dared question Suzie Q any further. “I wouldn’t worry too much about Garrett either. He shouldn’t be hard to deal with.”

The Blazer’s engine kicked in and I started to pull away, not really wanting to think about either Frank Sinatra or his meal at the moment. But Georgia stopped me, coming over to my window.

“I was wrong about you, Porter,” she simply said.

“You mean you’ve changed your mind? My body isn’t completely shot to hell?” I asked with a slight grin. Okay, I admit it—her initial critique still bugged me.

Georgia gave a weary smile. “You’re not ready for the body shop yet. But don’t let that go to your head. You’ll be there soon enough.”

She leaned in further, her face more serious now. “What I meant is, don’t ever let them run you out of your job. Those bastards in Washington may not know it, but they need someone like you in the field, kicking butt.”

At the moment, I wasn’t so sure I agreed with her. “Fish and Wildlife could always use a good biologist,” I ventured.

But Georgia Peach shook her head. “I served my time, Porter. Remember? I’m the disgruntled government employee. You’re the one with that damn burning fever to help. I hope that it lasts forever.”

Pushing away, she waved her hand in farewell.

Everything felt slightly off-kilter as I drove out of the desert and onto the razzle-dazzle terrain of the Strip. I knew I’d have to check in with Sam at some point, although I didn’t have the slightest idea of what I would say.

I pulled into my driveway to find a mailbox had been erected, as bright and shiny as a brand-new bullet. Opening the lid, I extracted an armload of mail, most of it intimately addressed to Resident.

My bungalow looked better than I had remembered, though the silence was louder without Pilot around. Tears sprung up at the thought, and I knew they’d be there for a long time to come.

I threw the mail on my bed and hit the Playback button on my answering machine, which was flashing faster than a broken traffic light. Lizzie had left five separate messages, each one more anxious than the last.

“That’s it, Rachel. Either you ring me back or I’m going to be forced to call the police. Isn’t there some sort of charge for ignoring your best friend? By the way, Tabby here has destroyed my entire boa collection. I think it’s time we discussed joint custody.”

I picked up the mail and sorted through unpaid bills as Lanahan’s voice boomed out next.