Dark lightning thunder a.., p.30
Dark Lightning (Thunder and Lightning), page 30
“That we can do,” I said, with a laugh.
Then Travis came on the line. And it was a hell of a plan. Impossible, but a hell of a plan.
—
First, we had to figure out what to do with Papa. The trouble was, none of the options we had made me happy.
One, put him in the ship, in or out of the bubble. If someone came looking, Sheila would defend herself and him and, if it came to it, leave Rolling Thunder and stand off at a safe distance until this thing was decided, one way or another.
Two, take him with us. I list that one only because it was barely possible to do so. But it was by far the worst alternative.
Three, leave him here, at the lodge.
“It’s too chancy,” I said. “They could get on our trail somehow and track him right to this room.”
“How would they do that?” Patrick asked.
“How the dickens should I know? That’s all happening in the cyber war we’re not even able to eavesdrop on. My point, we have no idea how many of them there are or how close they might be.”
“I don’t like leaving Papa behind at all,” Polly said. “I think we ought to take him with us.”
“Into a possible battle?” I asked, incredulously. I lightly tapped the side of her forehead. “Hello? Hello? Anybody home up there, sister? Can you imagine Papa in a firefight like you just went through?”
She didn’t reply, but her lower lip stuck out stubbornly. I’ve always hoped I don’t do that, but maybe I do. We can both be mighty determined to get our own way.
“I don’t think it’s such a bad idea to stay right here,” Patrick said. “I can watch over him. Or if I see anyone coming, we can run.”
That got him a laserlike glare from both of us.
“What do you mean, take care of him? We’re going to need you.”
He looked very uncomfortable and wouldn’t meet our eyes. “It was just a thought,” he said. “He obviously needs somebody to stay with him.”
“Sheila can do that,” I said, firmly.
It took a little longer, but Polly finally gave in, and Patrick didn’t seem like he even wanted to vote on the matter.
“I think we need to hear from one more person,” Polly said. After we had decided, I thought. She nodded toward the bedroom door.
I sighed. She was right. In the end, it was really up to him to decide what he was up to and what he wasn’t.
“I want to stay right here, me,” he said, shocking us all.
“But, Papa . . .”
“I can’t think on that ship, where it be weightless. And I need to think. I need it worse than I ever have, I think. So, unless y’all can bring the ship down here where there’s gravity . . . I’m stayin’ right here.”
Okay. None of us liked it, but what can you do? Papa is so gentle and makes so few demands that it’s possible to forget that, like someone he sometimes refers to, a comic book character called Pappy Yokum, when he has spoke, he has spoke!
—
We showed Patrick a variety of weapons and tried to convince him to take the simplest to use, which was a shotgun with a big magazine. Just point and shoot, another shell would be in the chamber before the noise had even died down. But he wouldn’t take it.
“I’m sure I’d only blow my own foot off,” he said. Okay, if you say so, Patrick. We finally got him to take a small handgun. We fitted him with a shoulder holster, as he was clearly horrified at putting it in his waistband. It was also clear what parts he was afraid of blowing off if he had it there.
Boys. What are you gonna do?
With final hugs for Papa, we headed out.
—
There were three ways for us to get from the South Pole to the North Pole. The first way was underground. Sheila was dubious about that but had no evidence that it was impossible, and it had a lot of advantages over the other alternatives.
The second way was out in the open, on the interior. We would have to sneak six miles through densely populated land, dressed like everybody’s worst nightmare escaped from a virtual game, armed to the teeth, with an unknown number of people looking for us. If we traveled by day, even regular, uninvolved citizens would notice us and cause a ruckus and be alarmed. Also, various cameras up around the curve could spot us easily. Even at night we wouldn’t be able to hide from the infrared cams.
Third was to fly it. We had the skycycles for it, and we also had a passenger who would be in full panic mode all the way. Even without Patrick—something I was thinking more and more about—it would be damn near impossible at night. We would be the only ones in the air, and once more our infrared signatures would give us away.
So underground seemed the best way.
Using the maps embedded in our phones we located a concealed entrance to an elevator that would take us below the interior level. To say we were edgy would be an understatement. I was not shaking, so much as shivering, like a racehorse at the gate. I was eager to get started because I was equally eager to get it over, one way or another.
We took positions at the sides of the elevator when it came time for the doors to open. Outside was . . . nothing. Or the next thing to it. A small, bare room, a long, long tunnel lit only in the parts near us. And along a magtrack, a little car big enough for six people.
“That looks like a death trap to me,” I said. “We going to just get on the little toy train there and go zipping along? And how many ambush points do you think there might be along the way?”
“They don’t seem to have projectile weapons,” Polly said. “That gives us an advantage.”
“Yeah, but not if we’re in the middle of epileptic seizures from their stun guns. Besides, I don’t want to kill anybody.”
“Me either,” Patrick said.
“And that makes three,” Polly said, angrily. “But we found out these guns are real good at making people keep their heads down.”
We looked down that long tunnel. Here was a place easy to choke off with just one or two or three soldiers or police or whatever they were calling themselves. Even if we scared them with a few bullets, they could instantly alert people down the line to block the tunnel, then block it behind us. We’d be trapped like rats in a maze. And how many stations were there ahead? I counted eight. There could be people at any or all of them.
“I say we at least give it a try,” Polly said.
I gave in, and we all took seats. Polly spoke to the car. And nothing happened. It just sat there, no lights, no action.
“They’ve turned it off,” Patrick said.
“Which means they’re aware of it,” I said. “We were hoping this was Travis’s secret underground railway, remember?”
“All right. We’ll walk it,” Polly said.
I was about to ask who appointed her squad leader . . . then realized I was okay with it. She had recently been through a real-life fight, as opposed to a survival course, so maybe her skills were a bit sharper than mine. And damn it, we did have to get to the North Pole some way.
But I really didn’t want to shoot at anybody, much less kill them.
—
We were all wearing boots with soft soles, but in a tunnel like that it’s almost impossible to move in complete silence. To do so, you have to move so slowly we wouldn’t make it to the North Pole in a week. So we compromised, careful not to stomp our feet but managing a moderate walking pace.
Among the things we had picked up at the armory were three sets of goggles. They had lenses that flipped up or down, could give you starlight vision or infrared. You got a sick green picture with one, a sullen red with the other. There was also a directional mike in the goggles, and an earbud. The goggles were made for sneaky work, seeing and hearing someone before they see or hear you. That’s always a big advantage.
It was pitch-dark in there without the glasses. I was glad we didn’t have to resort to our flashlights.
We had come about halfway to the first station, Polly slightly in the lead, when she stopped and held up a hand. We had agreed, no talking, not even whispering. They were just as likely to have listening equipment as we were.
It became quiet. Very quiet. If I faced Polly, I could hear her heartbeat thundering, her breath roaring in and out. But facing straight ahead, there was nothing . . . until I heard the faintest of sounds. I strained to make it out, and I was soon convinced of what it was. I faced Polly, and so did Patrick.
She put her hand beside her mouth, opening it and closing it while she moved her mouth, then jerked her thumb ahead of us. Translation: I hear someone talking down there. I nodded.
She pointed back down the tunnel, lifting her eyebrows inquisitively, then pointed ahead, again asking. Forward or retreat? I hesitated, then pointed ahead, and cupped my hand around my ear. Maybe if we get closer, we can hear what they’re saying. Patrick nodded, and so did Polly. I’ll admit I wouldn’t have minded if I’d been outvoted.
So we continued, even slower, and very gradually the sounds got louder. I couldn’t make out words, but it was definitely people talking. How many? I couldn’t tell. Someone coughed, and it was like they were standing right beside me. We all stopped, and I heard what was surely laughter.
We all looked at each other again. Go on? Go back? And if we go back, what then?
Polly turned toward the sounds again, and as she did a buckle on her belt clanked against the pistol in its holster. Anywhere else, it would have vanished in the background noise, but here there was no background, just hard steel surfaces to bounce it all the way to the next station.
The talking stopped. Once more it was silent as a tomb. Then, for the first time, we understood words.
“Is somebody down there?”
Yeah, the bogeyman, and he’s coming to get you. It was a woman’s voice, and it sounded pretty tentative to me.
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“I didn’t, either.”
“I did. I think we ought to go down there and take a look.”
“You see anything in the infrared?”
“Nothing we haven’t seen before. They could be down there in the vanishing point, and I don’t think we’d see them.”
“We would if we got closer.”
I picked out four voices for sure, maybe five. One of them sounded like a man on a macho kick, sounding tough, or at least trying to. Another didn’t sound happy at all.
Polly held up five fingers. Patrick nodded and did the same. I held up four, then five, with a shrug. There were at least that many up there. Polly once again shrugged, then pointed forward, and back. I pointed back. So did Patrick. Polly nodded, and we headed back the way we came.
—
The next hours were some of the most frustrating I’ve ever experienced. We didn’t have to go so slowly on the way back, as we figured they weren’t coming after us. But once back at the elevator, we had another choice to make.
“Looks like we have to do it on the surface,” Patrick said.
“What, are you nuts?” That was Polly. “The only way I can see us doing that is to just go straight ahead to the north, on foot or in a vehicle, and kill anybody who gets in our way.”
“Which we may have to do,” I pointed out.
“You think I don’t know that? And I’ll do it, and you two will, too, if it comes to that. But, one, unless they are only a handful—and I don’t believe that, if they’ve posted five people on that one underground line—I don’t even know if we have enough ammunition for that.”
I didn’t think we did, either, but I didn’t say anything.
“And two, is that where we want to start? I mean, shouldn’t that be our last option if everything else fails?”
“I’m on board with that,” Patrick said.
“Me, too.” But she wasn’t finished. She was really worked up, about as much as I’ve ever seen her.
“Add to that, we’ll be like bugs in a jar out there. They’ll spot us as soon as we start north. Cameras, and spies, and . . .” She tapered off. I patted her on the shoulder.
“It’s okay, sis. We’ll explore every option.”
So we agreed that meant the other tunnels.
—
And that’s where the frustration came in. According to the map Travis had unlocked for us, there were two more North–South private trains. They were spaced evenly around the poles. One of them was the one we had recently traveled on to get from our house to the bridge. It was 120 degrees away from this one, reachable through a door off to our right as we had exited the elevator.
The door opened onto another plain corridor. This one was not as wide, as no train cars would ever run through it. And whereas the train-tunnel lights only came on when a car was passing, this one was lit. Very dim, with a small light every twenty yards or so, but lit. And the floor curved upward ahead of us. If we walked a little over six miles, we would end up right back there.
We reached the next door in about twenty minutes. Patrick was breathing a little hard and looked tired. The guy wasn’t in as good shape as me and the twin.
So we repeated the whole process, down the train tunnel. We knew this time about when we might be able to hear something, so we slowed down and listened, still maintaining silence.
There wasn’t much, at first. But it turned out these people just weren’t as talkative as the first group. Eventually, we heard them, and just a little later they heard something from us, because we could hear them asking each other if they heard anything. There was some difference of opinion on that, but then we heard something distinct.
“Elton, Roger, you come with me. The rest of you, stay here.”
That was enough for us.
—
The last tunnel was more of the same, the only difference being that shortly after we heard them, one of them fired a stun gun at us. The rifles fired small projectiles that would sting like the devil if they hit you. They trailed two fine wires that uncoiled out of the gun, and when they hit something, they discharged the stunning electricity. The wires had a range of about a hundred yards.
We heard the bang, and at the same time saw a flash of light from the propellant charge, but the stinger fell well short of us.
We fell back and regrouped.
“What do you think?” I asked. “Do we fight our way through one of these tunnels? Or go back and try the surface route?”
“They must know we’re trying to get through,” Patrick pointed out. “They would be talking to each other and know that each group heard something about half an hour apart. What would you do if you knew that?”
“Bring in reinforcements,” I said, glumly.
“No question,” Polly agreed.
“So maybe our best chance is a lightning run along the interior,” I said. “I don’t fancy fighting down here, trapped in these damn tubes. There’s nowhere to go but forward or back. It’s gotta be easier to defend than attack, right? Hell, they could just barricade the tunnel.”
“You’re right,” Polly said. “That’s hopeless. I guess we’ve wasted our time. I think it’s because we don’t want to face the alternatives.”
“The surface,” Patrick, said.
“No,” she said. She looked at us, and she wasn’t happy. “There’s another way. I’ve had an idea.”
It was a hell of an idea. I would soon be wishing she had kept her goddam ideas to herself.
CHAPTER 17
Polly:
I never said it was a great plan. I just said it was the one I thought had the best chance of success, which was looking like slim or zero.
We were a pretty bedraggled and exhausted bunch by the time we got back to the hotel. Papa was happy to see us, but pretty soon he was back in his “thinkin’” zone. We all immediately scrambled for something cold to drink and ordered food from room service.
Cassie had her back up, and she hadn’t even heard the worst part of my plan. I wondered if it was going to be hard to sell her on it. Heck, I wasn’t even sure I was sold on it myself.
“Fly?” she said for what seemed like the twentieth time. “You talk about being bugs in a jar if we try to fight our way through on the surface. How easy do you think we would be to spot with heat scopes at night, being the only thing in the air?”
“That’s the thing,” I said. “Infrared sensors. Like you say, flying at night we would be ridiculously easy to spot.” I paused. “That’s why we’ll do it during the day.”
Her jaw dropped open, then closed again. I don’t know if I’d ever seen her speechless, but she was then. But not forever.
“You must be out of your f—. . . your cockamamie mind! In the daytime? If we fly low, we’ll still be sitting ducks, and I don’t think we could make six miles in that kind of gravity. And if we fly high, we’ll burn up. Remember Icarus?”
“Icarus disregarded his father, remember? What was his name . . . ?”
“Daedalus,” Patrick supplied.
“Right. But he flew too high. The other part of the story is that Daedalus made it. He took his own advice and kept to the right altitude.”
Cassie was mulling it over. I glanced at Papa, off in his own world, but I was about to say things it was best he didn’t hear if he happened to come up for air. I gestured toward the door, and the three of us went into the other room.
“So what we’d be looking for is the Goldilocks zone,” Cassie said, thoughtfully. “Too low, and we’d be spotted. Too high, and we fry. We have to find a distance that’s just right. And where would that be?”
“It’s wherever it is,” I said. Not helpful, I guess, but true. We would have to find the right spot by experimenting.
“I don’t get it,” Patrick said. “Why wouldn’t they spot you?”
“The sun would dazzle any device they used to look for us,” Cassie said, absently. “We’d be invisible in the glare, in visible light or infrared.”
