The Extinction Files: The Complete Series, page 59
Which meant that was the key to stopping them: preventing the Rapture nanorobots from getting further instructions. That would take away the Citium’s power.
She looked at her brother a long moment. They had radicalized him. Peyton wasn’t sure if she could make him see the truth, but she had to try.
“Andrew, think about what they’ve done—how many people the Citium has killed. If they control Rapture, imagine what they’ll do.”
He shook his head. “You don’t understand—”
“I do. I’ve seen it. The stacks of dead bodies. Andrew, Dad’s alive.”
The words shocked him. “Impossible.”
To Peyton’s surprise, her mother spoke up. “It’s true, Andrew. Yuri tried to kill him, but he survived.”
He stepped back, away from them, wincing as he tried to come to grips with the information.
Peyton sensed that this was the moment to make her move. “Andrew, can you disable the remote access? Prevent the Rapture nanorobots from taking additional instructions?”
Andrew said nothing, but Peyton still knew him well enough to read him. She could see that she was right: he could stop this.
“Do it. Please. It’s the only way to stop them. I’m not leaving until you do.”
His eyes flashed to her. “I’ll have you dragged out of here.”
Another explosion rocked the building. All four of them crouched as more ceiling tiles rained down.
“You’ll have to drag me out too,” Charlotte said.
Lin walked over and stood next to Peyton and Charlotte, silently showing her willingness to stay as well.
“Listen to what we’re saying,” Peyton said. “They’ve brainwashed you, Andrew. We’re telling you the truth. Please, do it. Even if you drag me out of here, I’ll never forgive you if you don’t stop them right now.”
Andrew stared at Peyton, then Charlotte, then his mother, and finally out at the factory floor.
“Trust us,” Peyton said. “Nobody cares about you more than the three of us. Believe what we’re telling you.” She waited a moment. “I’m willing to die to try to stop the Citium. They’ve killed people I cared about. Tried to kill Dad. They took you from me, Andrew. This isn’t who you are.”
“I don’t care what the Looking Glass is,” Charlotte added. “This world isn’t perfect, and that makes it worth having. Just like you.”
Another explosion shook the building, much closer this time, with far greater force. The glass walls overlooking the massive manufacturing machines exploded outward, raining glass down. A tall cabinet overturned, barely missing Charlotte.
Andrew was at her side in an instant, pulling her away.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
Charlotte gripped Andrew’s shoulders. “Please.” She pulled him closer to her. “Please, Andrew.”
Like a wall crumbling, his hard expression dissolved. He smiled a remorseful, yet kind smile. Peyton saw then the older brother she had grown up with, the brother who had helped take care of her in the years after their father was gone.
Slowly, he nodded. “Okay.” He moved to a raised table with a computer terminal. “I can disable the remote access to the Rapture nanorobots from here and remove the backup program from the Rook servers.”
He twisted the hand portion of his prosthetic and removed it. He stuck it in a pocket, then took out another attachment that was affixed to his belt. It resembled a hand, but with yellow-white plastic fingers that barely hid the wires below. He twisted it onto the end of his prosthetic forearm. Peyton watched in wonder as the fingers twitched. The stump must have given tiny impulses to the prosthetic, which electronically controlled the hand and fingers. For the first time in her life, Peyton saw her brother use a real left hand. She wondered if the Citium had leveraged this gift to gain control over him. She couldn’t imagine what he had been through, or what his road back would be like. He was a classic victim of Stockholm Syndrome—when captives come to trust and, in some cases, join their captors.
Another series of explosions rocked the building. The lights flickered, and everyone froze. If the power went out, it was over—and if the building was hit, they’d be trapped down here, crushed.
“Keep working,” Peyton said. “I’m going above to radio them, tell them to not hit the building.”
“I’ll go with you,” Lin said. “If there are Citium troops, I’ll deal with them.”
All eyes turned to Charlotte. She moved to stand beside Andrew. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter 127
The lights flickered in the stairwell as Peyton pounded up the stairs. The elevators were either broken or had been shut down.
Her mother lagged behind her. The woman had always been in excellent health, but she was in her late seventies.
Another explosion rattled the metal staircase, nearly throwing Peyton off her feet. Lin grabbed the handrail and braced herself on the wall. “Go on, darling, I’m right behind you.”
“No you’re not. We’re staying together, Mom.”
She wrapped her arm around the lithe woman, and they climbed the stairs together, the bombs exploding outside as they marched.
At the ground floor landing, Peyton paused when she saw a thin film of smoke issuing forth from the crack beneath the door. She placed her hand on the door, felt warmth, then pulled the bottom of her shirt around her hand and lightly touched the handle. It was too hot for her to touch.
We’re trapped.
* * *
Conner crouched over his brother’s limp body. Desmond’s face was bloodied and bruised. He took his brother in his arms and hugged him tight, rocking.
“Des,” he whispered.
Right after Desmond had been knocked out, the air raids had struck the building. It sounded as though a large portion of it had collapsed, and fire was consuming the rest. The flames were closing in, marching down the hallway toward them. The soldiers had left. Rats fleeing a sinking ship—or more precisely, a burning island.
Conner had been too young to remember the fire that had permanently scarred him, but the burns had left him terrified of fire. He didn’t even like eating in restaurants with a fireplace, wouldn’t set foot inside a home with one. The sight of a large open flame paralyzed him. He watched the blaze clawing away at the building, consuming more of it each second.
He was alone now, with his brother, in much the same way their lives had started: in the face of an unstoppable fire. Thirty-three years ago, it had been Conner who had lain helplessly as the fire advanced. Desmond hadn’t saved him. There was something fitting about leaving him, completing the cycle. But Conner was ashamed of the thought. Those dark impulses were exactly the thing Desmond had tried to help him control. Tried and failed. He was what he was.
The fire was closer now. Conner felt himself start to shiver, as if he were naked in the Arctic. The force rattling his body, however, was not cold, but fear—an overwhelming, petrifying force.
He heard footsteps behind him, but Conner barely turned his head. Yuri squatted down in front of him. His face was bloody, one eye swollen shut.
He examined Conner, searching for a wound, confusion clouding his face when he found none.
His voice was hoarse, perhaps from the smoke inhalation. “What’s happened?”
“I can’t,” Conner whispered.
Yuri glanced at the flames closing on them, seemed to understand.
“You must, Conner. Every man faces his demons. Yours is here. Will you cower and let it best you? Now is your chance. Show me what you really are.”
Chapter 128
On the landing of the smoke-filled stairwell, in the glow of the emergency lights, Peyton ripped her clothes off. First the body armor, then the breathable mesh Kevlar undershirt.
She knelt over the garments, clad only in her bra and khaki pants, and drew the knife from a sheath on her belt. She cut two long strips of mesh from the short-sleeved shirt, wrapped one around her mouth, and handed the other to her mother. The older woman followed Peyton’s lead.
Peyton pulled the shirt back on, and wrapped the body armor around her left arm, prepping it to use as an insulated shield against the fire. She made sure her comm unit was still affixed.
She crouched down and turned her back to her mother. “Climb on.”
“Honey.”
“Mom, do it. We don’t have time to argue.”
Lin Shaw exhaled as she stepped closer to her youngest daughter. Her voice seemed to slip deeper into her British accent as she muttered, “Well, there’s no need to be rude.”
With her mother’s arms around her neck, Peyton rose, hit the door handle with her armor-wrapped hand, and rushed into the hall.
The smoke was thick, but the flames were mostly confined to studs in the walls and the furniture burning in the offices. She turned a corner and saw the lobby. The wooden reception desk blazed like a bonfire. The wind rushed in, feeding the fire endless amounts of the oxygen it needed to burn. Waves of heat pushed deeper into the structure, past Peyton, like the tide lapping at a beach. But beyond the desk, beyond the shattered glass windows, the darkness of night loomed. Freedom. She could make it.
Peyton pressed on, putting one foot in front of the other. Her lungs burned. Her head swam. She felt a new admiration for Desmond: days ago, he had carried her father out of a burning building at Aralsk-7. Now it was Peyton’s turn, and she pushed with every ounce of energy in her body.
Her legs didn’t give out until she crossed the threshold of the front doors. She felt herself collapse then, but she didn’t hit the ground. Her mother wrapped her arms around her and dragged her from the blaze.
Through watering eyes, she saw dark hair streaked with gray hanging down in front of her, a curtain across her face. It was drawn back, and Peyton saw her mother staring down, tears in her eyes. She ripped the mesh Kevlar from Peyton’s mouth, turned her head, and held her ear to Peyton’s mouth. Lin let out a cry of joy when she realized her daughter was breathing. She pulled her closer into her lap. “It’s going to be okay, honey.”
Slowly, Peyton’s senses focused. Automatic gunfire rang out in the distance. They’re fighting for the harbor. The Marines must have landed.
Engines roared. High-caliber artillery guns pounded. Overhead, she saw more missile strikes. A few exploded in the air, but many found their targets, churning earth and trees and bodies in massive eruptions of fire and smoke. The entire island seemed to be erupting.
She brought a shaking hand to her collarbone, activated her comm, and spoke with a scratchy, strained voice. “Overwatch, Artemis. Cease fire at my location. We have friendlies in the adjacent building. Confirm.”
“Artemis, Overwatch, confirmed, ceasing air strikes at your location.”
A second later, the CIC operator opened the comm line again. “Artemis, Overwatch. Be advised, there are hostiles inbound to your twenty. Estimate a force of twelve, heavily armed. Reinforcements are two clicks out. Advise you take cover or retreat.”
Chapter 129
In her peripheral vision, Peyton saw the soldiers closing on them.
Carefully, Lin Shaw placed Peyton’s head on the ground and stood tall, her posture rigid, facing the oncoming troops like a proud mother ready to defend her child with her own life. Peyton desperately wanted to stand with her, but she couldn’t. She didn’t have the strength. Every breath burned.
The soldiers halted their sprint when they saw Lin.
The nearly eighty-year-old woman’s voice was strong as it called into the smoke-filled night. “Major, we have friendlies in this building. They are mission-critical to our cause. Rescue them. Do it now.”
The man hesitated, then touched his collarbone. “Dr. Pachenko, Major Reeves.”
The man paused, listening.
Peyton was shocked. Yuri Pachenko is here. The man had taken so much from her. Her hatred boiled as the mercenary activated his comm again.
“Dr. Pachenko?”
Lin took a step toward him. “Send your men in, Major. Do it now or there will be consequences.”
Reeves motioned for four of his men to enter the building.
To the soldiers entering, Lin said, “Basement level four. A man and a woman. They’ll be together.”
Major Reeves scowled at Lin. “My last orders were to secure the Rapture Control program.”
“The situation has changed, Major. And so have your orders.”
“Dr. Pachenko—”
“Is no longer in charge here. I am. Tell your men at the harbor and elsewhere to stand down.”
Reeves was shocked. “Ma’am?”
“Those are your orders. We face an overwhelming force. The battle here can’t be won. We must surrender for the greater good. We are prepared for this contingency, I assure you, Major.”
The soldier nodded slowly, activated his comm, and ordered a full surrender.
Peyton sat up, seeing her mother with a whole new appreciation. She did it. This was an entirely new side of the mild-mannered woman who had raised her.
Peyton activated her own comm. “Overwatch, Artemis, be advised, hostiles have been ordered to stand down.”
The gunfire in the distance stopped. Seconds later, so did the missile fire coming in from the sea.
For a moment, the dense island jungle was quiet. The towering palm trees swayed in the wind, bristling with each gust. The fire blazing behind her crackled. Here and there, pieces of the building collapsed.
With each passing second, Peyton was able to catch her breath.
“Artemis, Overwatch, cease-fire confirmed. Commencing search and rescue operations. First wave of helos inbound. ETA thirty minutes.”
“Copy, Overwatch.”
“Ground teams are en route to your location.”
“Copy that. Thank you.”
Peyton sat up and stared at the building. Andrew was in there, trapped beyond the fire. In the years after she was told he’d died in a fire, she’d dreamt about it a thousand times. Nightmares, with Andrew trapped, and her unable to help. But this time it was real. The building was collapsing in on itself.
She lay on her back again. She couldn’t bear to watch. She wanted to go back in the building, but she was too weak.
She activated her comm again. “Dad. Desmond. Avery.” She had forgotten their call signs, but it didn’t matter now. She just wanted to hear their voices. But no one responded. She called again. And a third time. Nothing.
She closed her eyes, willing it not to be true. Desmond. Her father. Andrew. In the past four days, all three had been returned to her. Now they might be taken away again. And somewhere deep inside her, she knew she would never recover this time.
Chapter 130
It had been ten minutes since the soldiers entered the burning lab complex. Peyton was on her feet now, able to breathe better, but not one hundred percent. She peered into the flames, looking for any signs of figures emerging. The pulsing heat warmed her face and body. A breeze pushed the blaze back every few seconds.
A gruff voice came over Peyton’s comm. “Artemis, Zulu leader, we’ve got a live one. Request medical assistance. We’re at the admin building.”
Major Reeves had been coordinating his troops’ surrender, which was finally complete.
Peyton interrupted a string of orders he was calling out. “Can one of your men take me to the admin building?”
Reeves glanced at Lin, who nodded. He instructed one of his soldiers to accompany Peyton, and they set off down a stone path, walking as quickly as she could manage. Her lungs still ached, but hope drove her on.
The administrative building was a charred ruin. The entire top two floors had burned down. Trails of smoke rose from orange embers crackling in the night. A half dozen of the camo-clad special forces—members of Zulu and Bravo teams—waded through the wreckage, turning the blackened pieces with the barrels of their rifles, searching.
Ahead, a Navy SEAL motioned for Peyton to come quickly. She swallowed, dreading what she would see. She repeated the words over the comm in her mind: We’ve got a live one. Alive, but in what condition? And who?
She knew who she wanted it to be. In the moment, she was completely honest with herself. She wanted to see Desmond’s face. She wanted to leave the island with him more than anything in the world. In the Boxer’s mess, he had said the things he needed to say, but she hadn’t. She knew that had been a mistake—one she might live to regret.
Twenty feet away, beyond the Navy SEAL, lay a burned-out crater, nearly smooth in the center. A ring of bodies circled it. In hot zones around the world, Peyton had seen pathogens rip through a population, leaving death behind. This was an altogether different form of carnage. Men lay in pieces. Dead eyes stared up at her, or out into the forest. Severed limbs lay alone, remnants of the slaughter strewn about without care or mercy. Rivulets of blood flowed into the crater like the veins on the back of a dark earthen monster. As Peyton descended into the hole, steam rose from it, as if the spirits of the lives lost were drifting toward the yellow moon above.
The Navy SEAL told her that he was a corpsman. He had stopped the bleeding, but the patient needed an infusion quickly. A medevac was inbound with blood, but it would be close. The Boxer had a capable operating room; unfortunately, it would be almost an hour before the patient reached the table.
As the SEAL shifted to the side, Peyton held her breath.
Avery lay on the ground, dirt plastered across her pale face and in her blond hair. Her breathing was shallow. Peyton knelt at her side. A six-inch gash ran across her abdomen. The corpsman had done a good job; the wound was packed tight. Splinters from shattered trees dotted her body. Avery murmured a phrase Peyton couldn’t make out. The corpsman had loaded her up with a painkiller. That was good. There wasn’t much else Peyton could do. In truth, the Navy medical officer was better trained to treat battlefield injuries than Peyton was. There was only one thing she could give the young woman, and for that reason, she sat silently, waiting.
