Текст книги "The Variables"

“Shut up, Frank,” Grant mumbled toward the dog, giving him a gentle tap on the head.

Down the hall, Grant saw Nate look his way. He stared at Grant and then lifted the walkie-talkie to his mouth, still keeping Grant in his line of sight. Behind him, the other guards moved quickly to shut the doors to the Center, and his heart began to pound. Jorge and one of the other guards brought big boxes out from a room down the hallway. They were metal and hooked to them were long floppy plastic tubes. Working fast, the men tucked the tubes under the door to the Center and then flipped a switch.

The boxes hummed and churned.

Grant pulled Frank tighter and took a step toward the men.

Nate lifted his gun in Grant’s direction.

From behind him, Jorge shouted, “All six boxes in place. The ones behind the screen are going, the ones from the theater room are operational.”

“Can anyone see what’s happening?” someone shouted.

Inside the secluded room, Grant could start to piece together the sounds of panic. Voices rose and fell in worry and alarm; a woman’s scream, a man’s yell, the sound of traveling feet across the gym floor.

“What’s happening?” Grant called to Dylan, who had taken his place several feet back from the closed metal doors of the Center, his weapon raised.

Now he could hear coughing. A thin film of vapor seeped out beneath the doors and disappeared. Someone hit the doors with full force and they bulged, but didn’t open.

“Prepare for breach!” Dylan shouted.

Huck’s video played on. His voice seeped underneath the new sounds of horror. “You must understand your role. And understand that I realize you will not have seen this sea change coming. But it is imperative to the success of my Islands. Only a true tempest will refine us. I bid you a fond farewell. Please know, in your final moments here, that your memories will not be forsaken.” The video turned to static as some women shrieked in shrill trills. Frank growled and then barked, yanking on the leash and crying out wildly—his cries mingling in with the cries of the people.

Nate stalked forward, his gun on Grant. And Grant backed up.

“What’s happening?” Grant asked in a whisper. He was out in the hallway, taking wide steps behind him without looking where he was going. A cold sweat dripped down his neck. “What’s happening?” he asked again, louder.

Nate shook his head. “Grant...I’m sorry...”

“No,” Grant breathed.

Copia.

It didn’t exist. It had never existed. It was a lie fed to people unworthy enough to travel to the next world. He wanted to let go of Frank’s leash and run, but he couldn’t. Still his feet carried him backward as Nate followed him.

“All those people—”

“Just our orders, Grant,” Nate said. “We liked you, kid. You have to believe me.”

Grant raised a hand to his neck and tugged on Salem’s crucifix. He held on to it and started to pray.

“Help me, help me, help me,” Grant said. “Mother Mary and Lord Jesus, dear God, no, no—”

A rise and fall of screams echoed down the hall, but Nate didn’t flinch.

“Oh my Jesus,” Grant whispered. He closed his eyes. “Forgive us of our sins. Save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls into heaven, especially those in most need of the mercy.”

Blair’s screams through the radio seemed to blend in, and Grant almost didn’t notice that she was back on. When Nate finally realized that it was Blair and not the Copia residents, he grabbed the radio and pressed it to his ear with one hand while keeping his gun on Grant.

“Help! Help! Can anyone hear me?”

Grant kept moving backward.

Nate looked confused and tentative.

“Sorry, Blair....can’t really discuss now...in the middle...” Mick answered her in spurts. There was now gunfire near the movie theater exit. People had managed to attempt an escape. Grant took another step back and realized that he had trapped himself up against the elevator doors at the end of the hall. He could feel that his cheeks were wet, even though he hadn’t been aware that he was crying.

“Can you confirm we are all accounted for?” Blair screamed. He could hear her muffled voice. “Confirm! Confirm!”

“I can confirm. All Copia. All guards. Grant. And your damn dog. Get up here, Blair.” Mick sounded angry and stern, panicked. The gas still poured into the Center, the guards looked at their watches. The deaths had only just begun. “Five minutes.”

“Then we have intruders. I repeat. I repeat. We have intruders. Private Ryley’s been shot and we are not alone down here!” Blair screamed. “I’m coming back up. I’m coming back up!”

In his own flustered panic, Grant hit the elevator button with his elbow. Nate’s attention was drawn away for a second down the hall, and Grant eyed the gun. He imagined himself attempting to pry the gun free. It was an act of pure bravado that he thought he might be physically capable of; if he could distract Nate for just a second, he could launch himself. Maybe buy some time.

But it was futile. Nate’s orders were to kill him. If he failed, there was an entire hallway of armed men ready to pick up where he left off.

Grant knew that the direct elevator was at the end of the hallway. He willed Blair to run faster. Maybe she would intercede for him. Maybe she didn’t know about the orders to kill him. He realized that Blair might be his only hope.

Nate tucked the walkie back into his uniform pocket and leveled the gun again. Grant closed his eyes. Then from down the hall, Grant could hear Blair running. No one else was wearing heels. He snapped his eyes opened and watched her approach. Her face was white and ashen, and her shirt untucked. Grant noticed that the tips of the pumps were covered in blood.

Twenty feet away. Fifteen feet away.

“Blair!” Grant called to her, but his voice caught.

“Frank!” she shouted. “I need Frank!”

Nate looked down at the ground and then up at Grant. “It’s time.” He leaned in and grabbed Grant’s shirt collar and began to pull him away from the elevator doors. Grant heard a tiny pop and felt Salem’s necklace snap loose—the chain had broken in the scuffle. With all his energy, Grant tried to duck out of Nate’s grip. The crucifix fell to the floor.

The elevator gave a tiny peal.

An announcement of arrival.

There were more gunshots in the background. More screams.

Nate bristled and stared at the metal doors. They started to open and Nate let go of Grant and swung his gun in the direction of the elevator doors, and then back to Grant’s head.

The doors of the elevator opened fully and Grant could tell by the look on Nate’s face that there was someone in there. Taking his chance, he ducked down, and grabbed tightly on to Frank and waiting for the blast to kill him.

A gunshot rang out. Nate crumpled to the ground, his gun clattered to the tiled floor. The would-be-assassin held on to his leg and blood began to seep through his uniform.

“I need backup!” he yelled down the hall. Dylan and Jorge turned their heads. “Intruders! Alert!”

Blair screamed wildly and scrambled back to the far wall. She tumbled to the ground and kicked herself as far away from the elevator doors as she could. Nate reached out to her, his hands covered in blood.

“Get my gun, Blair! Dammit! The gun!”

Grant was faster. He scrambled forward and locked his hands around the barrel, and then turned to the open elevator. He didn’t know who he was supposed to shoot—the intruders or the people trying to kill him. Another shot rang out and Grant braced for the impact, but Nate tumbled over again, a hole gaping in his uniform just above his bicep.

Blair’s screams of terror, Nate’s screams of pain, and the march of footsteps running to their aid operated in the background as Grant realized he knew the people in that elevator.

They were calling, motioning, but all he could hear was Blair, Nate, the footsteps, the dog barking, his ears ringing. His eyes adjusted. He could see them clearly.

It was Darla he recognized first.

She was gaunter than he remembered, but it was absolutely Darla; covered in blood, she held a gun pointed at Nate’s head and she screamed for Grant to climb into the elevator with them. Her screams barely registered above the other din and Grant felt sluggish in his response to her. Was this real? Was he already dead? He obliged and crawled on all fours away from the chaos as Darla pushed the button.

Behind her he saw the familiar face that looked so much like his own. A face that surfaced in dreams, but had seemed fuzzy in recent weeks—as if his entire family was just a series of old movies playing inside his brain.

“Dad?” Grant whispered. Time seemed to stand still. He collapsed on the floor and looked upward. He must be dead. Nate had shot him in the head and he was dying on the floor of the System. His dad and Darla were there to escort him to the afterlife. “Dad?” he asked again.

Frank barked. The bark pulled Grant back toward reality. He had never let go of the leash and the dog had followed him into the elevator as an unwilling partner; he barked at his owner, who was still screaming outside in the hallway, and he licked at Grant’s head. Darla looked at the dog and then Nate and discharged her weapon once again, this time hitting the wall behind the guard’s head.

The other guards were getting closer. Blair scrambled toward them on all fours. Her feet slipped on the blood.

His dad.

His dad was here.

“No!” Blair screamed. Her primal cries rang out as she propelled herself off the floor and into the elevator. She reached for Frank’s leash. Her legs passed over the threshold just in time for the doors to collapse behind her; the elevator began moving upward and away from the men below. Cuddling her dog close, she pushed herself into the corner and looked up at Dean and Darla with wide, wild eyes.

A walkie-talkie crackled.

Blair wasn’t holding hers anymore and Grant realized that his dad was holding one to his ear.

“Mick! Advise! Advise! Two intruders and Grant and Blair are making their way from elevator one to the outside lift. Do we fire?”

“Yes, dammit!” Mick answered.

“But...Blair...”

“If they get to the surface, we give them all the advantage. Do what you need to do. Take them all out, you hear me?”

“Mick...are you sure.”

“Fire at will. Indiscriminately. Take out the elevator.”

“Turn the elevators off, dammit.”

“Working on it...” Mick said, and the communication was cut short.

Blair choked out a mixture of a gasp and a sob and clutched Frank’s neck. “Who are you?” she asked, her eyes darting between everyone around her. Grant had pushed his back against the climbing elevator. He could hear the gunshots ring out below. Little pings echoed around them; the bullets were landing against the metal.

Darla took her gun and put it against Blair’s head, and Blair screamed and cowed.

“Don’t kill me,” she screamed. “Please, please, don’t kill me. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“How do we get out of here?” Darla asked.

“If we ma-ma-make it to the main lift...then we just go. Once that elevator is going, they, they, they’d have to wait to come after us until we reached the surface.” Blair said, looking at Darla through her tears. “But—” she stopped. “If they come after you, you’re toast. Look, we’re toast no matter what. If the elevators stop...I can’t control that...”

The elevator churned to a slow stop. The sides rattled. Dean swore under his breath.

Together, Darla and Dean pried the doors open and saw two feet of light pour into the box; they had been so close to their destination.

“You first,” Darla said to Dean and he listened without hesitation and crawled through the small open space, depositing himself on to the ground below. Grant went next. Then Blair pushed Frank through and then herself. Darla was last.

Darla grabbed Blair and propped her up on her feet, and they took off running, back up the same hallway that had brought them into the underground dome. Frank ran alongside, his tail and tongue wagging, like he was back jogging with Blair.

“They’ll be right on your heels,” Blair said. “There are hidden stairwells to this portion...in case of an emergency.”

And sure enough, just as they reached the elevator to the surface, they saw a blur of uniforms appear. The guards began to fire. Jorge and the redhead raised their guns and fired. The bullets ricocheted off the walls and the sound made Grant’s ears hurt. They climbed aboard the lift and pushed the button. It began to rise. Its exposed top made Grant feel woozy; he could see the reinforced dirt walls and feel the warm stagnant air. A single lightbulb illuminated the area and cast their shadows on the wall. A bullet pierced the bottom of the small elevator and Blair screamed. Dean grabbed her and held her close, pushing her toward the side. Another bullet tore through the bottom.

They traveled upward slowly.

The gunshots began to get softer, further away.

“They’ll just come after you,” Blair said. “You won’t get away.”

The walkie-talkie crackled again, but the voices on the other end were too jumbled to understand. They were slipping out of range.

Dean embraced Grant and put his hand on the back of his head. “Son,” he said. When he drew back to look at him, he was crying. “I can’t believe this…I don’t have the words…”

“Son?” Blair whispered and she looked between Grant and Dean, her arm still wrapped around Frank’s neck. “Oh my God.” She clamped her mouth shut and stared off at the dark wall surrounding them. “Oh my...”

“Blair—” Grant started and she looked at him, her eyes big.

“I don’t understand,” she replied. “You know them.” It wasn’t a question. She closed her eyes tight. “I’m so confused. You know them.”

“Blair,” he said again. “This is my dad. And this is Darla...” he stopped. “Teddy’s mom.”

Blair inhaled like all the air had been punched out of her and she was struggling for breath. When she looked at Grant, she was a piteous mess; all her fear and anger had morphed into a penetrating sadness. He wanted to go to her, but he kept his distance, assessing her confusion from the safety of his corner. Blair’s head dropped to her chest and she put her hand over her heart.

“My dad told me his mom was dead,” she said in a whisper.

“I’m very much alive,” Darla answered. “Much to everyone’s chagrin, I’m sure.” She looked up as the elevator continued its climb. They could see the light now from the opened elevator doors on the surface; daylight crept downward, and the air was lighter, more breathable. “We need a plan. Stat.”

“They will realize that they can’t waste time waiting for this lift and they’ll go the emergency lifts at the other end of the System,” Blair said weakly. “That’s probably why they didn’t kill the elevators...they’re heading to the hidden ones…”

“Hidden ones…” Grant repeated. He realized how much he hadn’t understood about his short-lived home.

“We can’t shut those down?” Darla asked. “The power source outside…the solar panels.”

“Won’t make it in time.” Blair covered her face with her hands. “But…”

Darla put the gun to Blair’s head, but Grant stepped forward and put his hand on her forearm, pushing the gun to the floor. Darla took a deep breath and kept the gun pointed away from Blair. She shifted her weight nervously and watched the surface above them with rapt interest.

“I can shut it down,” Blair said. “I’m the only one with a direct line to Kymberlin. Mick gave me the phone. He thought it would be the easiest task...to keep me included...to let me be the one to call when the operation was over.” She closed her eyes. “I can call...I can take the whole System offline...”

“What does that mean?” Dean asked.

Grant looked at his dad. “It means that they shut the power off remotely. And it would trap everyone.”

“The Copia people are already...” Blair trailed off. “Shutting down the System would trap the guards. It would…it would…”

“Do it,” commanded Darla.

“Is that the only way?” Dean asked. He reached out to Grant’s neck and he gave it a comforting squeeze. It was instinct to pull away, but Grant didn’t. He let his dad’s hand linger there. Grant couldn’t remember the last time his dad had shown him affection. They had spent so much of their time together at odds, dancing around their own grief and never allowing the other person to create any sort of stronghold in their life. Here he was, eighteen years-old, and all he wanted was to feel his dad’s comforting hand; he wanted to hear that he had been missed and that everything was going to be okay.

After a pause, Grant nodded. “It is. It’s the only way.”

“Do what you need to do to get Darla back to her boy,” Dean said. “We’ve been through a lot to get here. And we don’t have much time.”

Blair looked up at Darla. She shook her head and cried. Frank licked her face and she pushed him away. “It had to happen to me,” she mumbled. “Of course. It had to. It was too much to ask for...”

Darla closed her eyes, the elevator climbed upward. She crouched down next to Blair and tenderly touched her on the hand. “You don’t know me. But you know my child. Please look at me...please look at me,” Darla said. She couldn’t help but cry. She looked up into the darkness above her to quell the tears. Blair turned and faced Darla. “I miss him,” Darla continued. “I need him. I’m not the enemy...I’m just a mom who needs her boy.”

“Dammit,” Blair cried and wiped her nose. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. You were supposed to be dead...”

“I’m alive,” Darla whispered.

“I know those men,” Blair said. She whimpered and buried her head in Frank’s fur.

Darla was undeterred and she tried to speak again, but it was Grant who dropped down to Blair. “You heard Mick on the radio. He didn’t hesitate to say that you would be collateral damage. Don’t pay them the respect they couldn’t pay you. This is my family...”

“And if I don’t?” she asked.

“We die,” Grant answered. “We all die. Together.”

Without saying another word, Blair reached into her front shirt pocket. She pulled out a small phone and hit a button to call a programmed number. The phone rang once and Blair put the call on speaker and put a finger to her lips.

“What the hell is going on down there?” Claude answered without formalities.

“Claude? It’s Blair. Take us offline!” she said. “Take us offline. It’s chaos down there, Claude. It’s a revolt. You’ve lost the EUS.”

Blair kept crying, but she swallowed her fear. Her voice sounded strong and sure. Darla looked up, the light was getting closer—the surface was in reach.

“Can anyone be saved?” Claude asked. “Where are you?”

“We…we...” Blair stammered. “We’re almost to the surface. We’re struggling here, Claude. Be quick.”

“We?” Claude repeated.

“Grant,” she said in a small voice. Then Blair grimaced. She realized she had made a mistake. She could have said Frank. Instead, she outed him.

Grant’s death had been orchestrated from the beginning. How easy would it have been for Blair to say that only she and Frank had made it into the elevator? If they knew Grant was alive, they would expect him back with Blair. And Grant knew that meant walking willingly back into the lion’s den. He thought of Lucy. Maybe he’d get to see Lucy. But he thought of leaving his father. He hung his head. Blair could read his troubled expression and she shook her head and mouthed an “I’m sorry.” His hand went around his neck, to string the crucifix along its chain, but he realized the necklace was gone.

“I had to save Grant. He saved me,” Blair said, louder and with conviction. She said the lie quickly and without pausing; he hoped those listening on the other end bought it. He watched as Blair struggled with every word coming out of her mouth.

“And it’s just the two of you?” Claude said. He didn’t wait for confirmation. “Blair, are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” She kept her eyes focused on the floor of the elevator. She was covered in blood—Nate’s, Ryley’s.

“Okay Blair, I need the code.”

“I can’t give you the code, Claude. Mick is dead. He never gave it to me.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, some shuffling of papers. Claude’s voice dropped, “Blair, you know I can’t take you offline without the code. It’s protocol.”

“Mick is dead!” Blair said. She sounded close to panic. “Please, Claude, please. Take us offline! I’m begging you. You don’t know what’s happening here. My life is in danger!”

They kept moving toward the light, toward escape.

“I understand, Blair. It’s my choice and I’ll make the call. I’m taking you offline in ten seconds. Will you be at the surface?”

Grant could now see the entry to the library. They were no more than twenty feet down. Blair looked at Darla and Darla nodded. “Yes,” Blair replied.

“Travel home safely, Blair. I’ll brief your father. Stay close to the phone.” Claude added and the call ended. Seconds later, the elevator rocked and grinded to a stop less than ten feet away from the exit. Grant jumped up and the elevator rocked; he hoisted himself up on to the lip and then lay on his belly and peered down into the pit at the others and extended his hand.

“That’s it?” Darla asked. “That’s all?”

“That’s it?” Blair repeated. “They just took the entire System offline. Lights out. Nothing left. No more elevators, no more communication. Just blackness until they suffocate down there.” She looked at Darla and shook her head. “It’s an awful way to go. It’s an awful thing to do to people...and I did it. I did it to them. So, yes, that’s it. That’s it. You’re safe…others are dead. And that’s it.”

“They would have done it to you,” Darla said, but Blair stood up and brushed her hands off on her skirt.

“That’s not why I did it...that’s not a good enough reason.” She bent down and picked up Frank and he struggled in her arms, clawing against her chest and her shoulders. She lifted him up to Grant and Grant reached down and grabbed Frank around the belly and then set him in the library. Frank bounced around Grant’s body and began sniffing the edges of the bookshelves.

Dean created a stepping stool out of his knee and helped both Darla and Blair to the surface. Then he jumped and grabbed the ledge, hoisting himself up onto the floor. He just rested there, his legs still hanging into the black pit, his upper body out in the library.

Blair grabbed Frank’s leash and walked up to Darla. “Teddy’s mom,” she said. “As if my day couldn’t get more heartbreaking.”

After a beat, Darla nodded. “He’s my everything. I don’t know how you know my son…but…”

Behind a bookshelf, they heard a low whisper. “You left me,” a voice cried, raspy and hoarse.

Grant froze and Blair shrieked, dropping to her knees.

Dean and Darla stared at them and then looked at each other. They began to laugh. It was a bubbling of all the pent-up tension from the last forty minutes. Darla wiped her eyes and wandered to the nonfiction aisle, and Dean joined her. A girl was splayed out making dust angels against the hardwood floor.

“We’re sorry, Ainsley...but trust us...you didn’t want any part of what just happened down there,” Dean said. He stretched out his hand and she sat up.

“Ainsley...” Grant repeated.

“Grant, right?” Ainsley asked and she extended her hand to him. He took it and shook her cold hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she added. Grant raised his eyebrows and looked at her. She had wild frizzy hair and a large nose, and one of her front teeth protruded out in front of her other one. She wore torn jeans and there were dark circles underneath her eyes. When she noticed him staring at her, she ducked behind Darla and put her hands on her friend’s shoulders.