Darkness Falls, page 22
"Did you catch the gun room, Mark? There's enough stuff in there to take over France. It seems like Teague isn't inclined to share."
Beamon twisted around in his seat and held out a video camera. "Do either of you know how to work this thing?"
"I used to have one kind of like that," Jenna said. "But I'm no expert."
"You are now. We tried to get the press in here, but they didn't have enough fuel to make the trip and I didn't have time to find them any. So we're just going to have to film it ourselves."
"Film what ourselves?"
He pointed to the east at a formation of fighter jets just coming into view.
"What are those for?" Jenna asked.
"Are you filming?"
She shrugged and searched for the camera's ON switch as their pilot turned the helicopter to give her a better view.
"Okay, I've got it," she said. "But I still don't see --"
Flame burst from the side of one of the jets and Beamon smiled as the missile impacted the roof of the main building. Two horses that had resisted every effort to run them off wisely started galloping toward freedom.
"Jesus Christ!" Erin shouted, pressing his face against the window. "What the hell are you doing? That place is
"Don't stop filming!" Beamon shouted as one of the barns was hit, shooting solar panels high enough in the air to force their pilot to retreat to a safer distance.
"Are you responsible for this?" Erin said, looking almost panicked. "Do you have any idea --"
"Hell, yes, I'm responsible. Pretty wild, huh?"
The missile impact with the microhydro dam was dead center and it sent out a wave high enough to flatten most of the cornfield.
"Nice one!" Beamon said, clapping energetically. "Isn't it amazing how when they shoot those things --"
"Are you nuts?" Erin screamed. "Do you have any idea what went in to building a facility like that? What an incredible piece of engineering it is? There's technology in there that I've never even seen -- that nobody's ever seen. Stuff that we're going to need if Teague manages to release that bacteria."
"No," Jenna said, sounding increasingly depressed as she zoomed in on the drowning corn. "What good would it do, Erin? There's no time. Mark's right."
"What the hell are you talking about, Mark's right?"
"You know as well as I do that Michael's watching the news. When he sees this when he sees that he's going to end up like everyone else, do you think he'll still go through with it?"
Erin leaned into the glass again and watched the fire spread into the trees. "I guess not. I mean, I see what you're getting at, but couldn't you have just filmed your guys swarming all over it?"
Beamon shrugged. "I guess I could have, but it wouldn't have been anywhere near as satisfying."
Chapter 43.
Michael Teague stumbled again, this time over nothing but his own feet. His hips were deeply bruised from the weight of his pack, creating a dull throb that was starting to eclipse the pain from the bleeding blisters on his feet.
He had spent a sleepless night out in the elements, snow collecting on his sleeping bag as he listened to the wind and Udo's rhythmic snoring. He could still feel the effects of that, too, in his bone-deep fatigue and the knot in his lower back.
Udo, though, seemed unaffected by any of it, his pace even more grueling than the day before. When he dropped out of sight over a small rise, Teague felt a moment of panic at being left alone in the endless wilderness. He forced his shaking legs forward, using his hands for balance as he tripped up the hill, and finally brought the German into view again.
"Udo! Slow down!"
He didn't seem to hear, jumping off a large boulder and once again disappearing from sight.
"Udo!"
The German didn't reappear, but the sun broke through the clouds and illuminated a clearing a few hundred yards ahead. They were finally back.
In the open, the wind was a palpable force, pushing him forward and slamming the open door of the warehouse repeatedly against its metal siding. Teague raised his hand to keep the dirt out of his eyes and ran inside, struggling to close the door behind him.
They'd left the heat on and the warmth began to penetrate his heavy clothing, causing his skin to burn and itch as though it didn't remember what it was like not to be wet and half frozen. Udo stripped his pack off and began lining up the samples he'd taken next to his microscope.
"How long until you know?" Teague asked, pulling off a glove and fumbling to turn on the television.
"Not long."
The German's voice had lost its animation since Jonas had died, and now Teague wondered if it was ever really there. Had his brother's suicide changed something in Udo, or had Jonas's brooding presence just made everyone seem exuberant by comparison?
"That's not an answer."
"It will take a few hours to examine the samples and another hour to calculate the optimal date for release. Is that better?"
Teague nodded and began removing his jacket, turning his attention to the television and a man making suggestions on how to cut back on skyrocketing food costs and still get a balanced diet.
He flipped to Fox, which was airing an interview about an attempted carjacking in Miami that had ended in a half-hour-long gunfight. Another turn of the channel brought him to some shaky overhead footage of a spreading wildfire.
Several buildings had been consumed, but it was impossible to see detail with the flames leaping around their burned-out husks. He was about to go get something to eat when he realized that the scene was strangely familiar.
"It isn't clear exactly what started the fire," the disembodied voice of the newscaster said. "And we haven't been able to get any updated information beyond the fact that it's now under control."
Teague remained motionless, his exhausted mind having a difficult time grasping what he was seeing. The camera pulled back, revealing what was left of a pattern that he recognized as the one he had so painstakingly designed -- the main house, the stables, the storage barns. The only thing not burning was part of the cornfield that had been inundated by his shattered dam.
It wasn't possible. The buildings were made primarily of earth and concrete, with gravity-fed fire sprinklers. Even if the fire systems failed, there was still no way to account for this kind of destruction.
It became harder and harder to breathe as he realized that it wasn't an accident. His refuge had been purposely destroyed.
Teague took a hesitant step backward, but bumped into something that stopped him. He spun and found Udo staring up at the screen.
"It's all gone," Teague stammered. "Everything we built. How? There was no connection between us and that property. I was so careful . . ."
Udo didn't acknowledge that he'd even heard; instead, he just turned and walked back to his microscope while Teague tried to process his new reality.
It wasn't possible. He'd spent more time on that facility than any other part of his plan, parceling out the design and manufacture to companies all over the world, creating a paper trail that led through an endless maze of blind alleys and dead ends, switching contractors various times during construction so that no one would have the full picture. He'd been so meticulous, so confident in his preparation, that there had been no need for a backup plan.
He looked over at Udo, who was calmly putting an oil sample on a glass slide. Did he understand what had just happened? What it meant? They had no protection at all from the collapse that the bacteria would cause. The facility they were standing in had enough heat, electricity, and food for a few more months, but that was all. There had been no reason to supply it further.
They would lose power like everyone else. The truck that brought them there would fail, cutting them off. Their food would run out and Canada's bitter winter would descend.
He reached for a chair and sat, leaning his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. This building would become their tomb. They would die there of starvation and cold, alone and anonymous.
No.
He stood and walked unsteadily past Udo into the back room. The gun cabinet was unlocked and he reached inside, pulling out an automatic pistol. He had money, various identities, passports. He could call Homeland Security, tell them about the pipeline, and then disappear into Canada, which, with its undamaged reserves, not only would be untouched by the massive economic fallout his water-injected bacteria was continuing to cause but would quickly become one of the wealthiest countries in the world. It would be a life on the run, but if he was careful, it could be a comfortable one.
Teague took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring through the open door leading into the main part of the building. He'd been so close -- only days from changing the world on a level that no one had ever even conceived of before. Only to be stopped by the blind luck of some government hack.
When he passed back through the door, the German was no longer sitting at his microscope.
"Udo? Where are you?"
No answer.
He continued forward slowly, his gun hand behind his back. Although Jonas had been more outwardly aggressive, it would be a mistake to assume his brother was any less committed. There was little doubt in Teague's mind that Udo intended to follow through with their plan and then just sit down in the snow to die. He would never agree to stop, and even if he did, he would become a liability -- someone Teague would have to support and worry about for the rest of his life. No, it was time for him to join his brother.
Teague moved carefully around a divider wall, but Udo was still nowhere to be found. The radio control to the pipeline bombs was built into a low table bolted to the floor and Teague knelt beside it, grabbing the cables that fed it with a sweating hand. Once it was destroyed and Udo was out of the way, he would drive the truck back to civilization and disappear. As soon as he was satisfied that he was safe, he'd call the hotline number that was running across the bottom of nearly every television screen in the world and tell them how to find this place.
The pain in the back of his head flared suddenly and unexpectedly, robbing him of his balance and sending him pitching forward. He could see the shards of glass falling around him before everything lost focus and he smashed onto the concrete.
His disorientation was more the result of fatigue and surprise than the blow, and the sensation of his cheek being cut by the glass on the floor cleared his head, but not before he felt the gun being pulled from his waistband. He spun, swinging an arm wildly behind him, but it was far too late. Udo had already stepped back to a safe distance and was aiming the pistol at his chest.
"My brother is dead. I have no home. No friends. No life at all. I gave it all up. For this."
"Udo, stop!" Teague begged, holding a hand out in front of him while he got slowly to his feet. "I wasn't going to hurt you. You know that I wouldn't do that. I was trying to help you. If we keep on with this, we'll both die. We don't have any protection at all. We'll be like all the others."
"Yes," Udo agreed. "Just like all the others."
"But none of this is our fault! We tried to protect the world. We tried to warn people."
"Not our fault? Are you certain, Michael? How are we different? How much was destroyed to build our houses? Our cars? Our clothing? No, we're not innocent in this."
When Udo pulled the hammer back on the gun, his eyes turned into a lifeless facsimile of his dead brother's.
"No! Don't kill me," Teague shouted, putting his other hand in front of him and taking a step backward. "I swear I wasn't going to hurt you. You have to believe that."
Udo came around behind him and shoved him forward with strength that seemed impossible for his thin frame. He pressed the gun into the back of Teague's neck as they walked through the main lab and into the back room.
This time, when the pain flared in Teague's head, it was immediately followed by a numbness that collapsed his knees. His vision swirled sickeningly, but he could still hear the rattle of the chain being removed from the gun cabinet and feel the cold of the links as they closed around his neck.
"Think about what we've accomplished, Michael. Think of the importance of it." The lock snapped shut and Udo took a step back. "And think about Jonas."
Chapter 44.
Erin Neal slipped into Jenna's room and then stuck his head out the door to look down the empty hall. He kept expecting to see guards, but there were none. Just an empty, silent corridor. Was Mark Beamon stupid? Or maybe he was really clever. Sure as hell he wasn't the trusting type.
"Erin, what is it?"
He closed the door quietly and turned to look at Jenna for a moment before walking to the minibar for a beer. He wasn't ready yet.
"You want a drink?"
She shook her head.
His knock had obviously woken her, leaving her staring at him through reddened eyes, wearing nothing but the Canada T-shirt she'd bought from the hotel souvenir shop. Her hair was different now and didn't tangle around her face the way it used to when she was awakened from a deep sleep.
But it was still Jenna. Here. Alive.
"It's after midnight," she said. "Did you think of something?"
"No."
Her look of disappointment wasn't doing much for his confidence, and his heart was pounding uncomfortably. He pointed at the bed in the center of the small room. "I just want to talk. Why don't you sit down?"
She eyed the mattress nervously and then shook her head. "I'm fine."
He forced an easy smile, but silently cursed himself. He hadn't intended that as the clumsy come-on it had sounded like. This was going downhill fast and he needed to turn it around.
"Okay. Here's the thing. I want you back." He managed not to wince at the sound of his own words. Smooth.
"What?"
"Did I stutter?"
Oh, good. Anger. That was going to work.
Fortunately, even after all this time, she knew him well enough to just let it go. "I guess I'm saying that I don't understand why."
It was a reasonable response, but he wasn't sure how to deal with it. There was a simple truth here -- that he'd always loved her and screwing him over while destroying the world as he knew it wasn't enough to change that. Strange but true.
"I've met a lot of nice enough women since you've been gone, but they all seem a little crazy and a little boring. You're just crazy."
Instead of the smile he'd hoped for, her expression turned despondent. "No offense, Erin, but you obviously don't get out much. After everything that's happened, I'm the best you can do?"
"Do you mind if / sit down?" he said, easing into the room's only chair and clutching his beer like a security blanket. "So that isn't an answer."
"I don't remember a question."
"You're going to make me say it, aren't you? Will you come back to me?"
"I . . . I don't know," she said, beginning to pace across the room. It caused her T-shirt to drift up and expose the bottom of her underwear. Blue.
It was strange what triggered memories --sometimes nothing more than a smell or a brief glimpse of something completely trivial. For him it was dumping his laundry into the washer and not seeing those stupid blue panties.
"Say it, Jenna."
"Say what?"
"You're obviously thinking something. Say it."
"I'm thinking how much I've lied to you.
And since I've gone so far down that road, whether I should just keep on going." "Yeah, it's worked out so well."
She stopped and turned to face him. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"
He wasn't, but he nodded anyway.
"Okay. I loved you when we broke up and I still do. My feelings never went away. I'm not sure they even faded any. No matter how much I tried to forget my life before."
Suddenly the constriction in his chest that had been there so long disappeared. He took the first deep, unfettered breath since she had disappeared, feeling the air fill parts of his lungs unused for almost two years.
"Whenever I was away from Bozeman, when I didn't think anyone was watching, the first thing I'd do is find a place to get on the Internet and Google you. At first, there was always something new, but as time went on there was less and less. I knew I was the cause of that. It's what I woke up thinking about every morning and what I was thinking about when I finally went to sleep every night." She looked dowri at the floor and let out a short laugh. "Listen to me. I'm standing here talking like I'm the victim."
Erin didn't know what to say. Or maybe he was just afraid he'd say the wrong thing. He had the distinct sensation that he was balancing on the edge of a razor.
"How many boring, crazy women?" Jenna said, breaking the silence.
"What?"
"Since me."
"I'm embarrassed to say."
Her expression turned enigmatic, the impenetrable mask he'd come to read as a moment when she didn't know how to feel.
"More than fifty?"
"I wouldn't be embarrassed to say that. Three. And none lasted more than two weeks."
"I'm so sorry, Erin."
"You?"
"If it's any consolation, that's three more than me."
It occurred to him for the first time that as bad as his life had been over the past couple years, hers hadn't been any better. At least he'd had the freedom to pursue happiness if he'd chosen to. She'd been trapped on all sides.
"Why'd you do it, Jenna? Why would you get involved in something like this?"
"I don't think you could ever really understand, Erin. You're all about studying minute details and weighing alternatives. I --"
"You're a scientist, too. A good one."
"But not a perfect one. A human one. I have beliefs and things I love beyond reason. I walked into this with my eyes open. I wanted to be part of this. And now I regret the hell out of it. But I still remember the feeling."
"If you'd have just thought about --"
"I know, I know," she interrupted. "I read your book fifty times. You're just terribly smart -- every footnote in place, all the logic perfect, all the research unassailable. But sometimes truth can't be distilled down to a bunch of equations."
He shook his head. "Two plus two equals four, Jen."
