Alive (The Dead Room Trilogy Book 3) Page 7

  “This is our future. Focus on that,” Mattli encouraged.

  “It’s looking a bit bleak,” Mason said as he looked around. Islanders were offloading supplies from the boat and spreading out, trying to establish a settlement for them to live on. They knew they didn’t want to get too far from the shore, since that was a stable source of food. So, the people set up camp not far from the beach, on the gray ash that they would call home.

  Could this really be our future? Mason wondered as he looked around at the depressing landscape. That was when he saw them and his whole body tensed.

  “Bots.”

  At first, the islanders screamed and scrambled about. Mason held up his hands defensively, not wanting any of them to jostle the EMP again. That was all they needed—for the thing to be destroyed in a panic.

  “Calm down, everyone,” Mattli shouted, his old voice suddenly loud and commanding.

  Everyone stilled and looked at him, fear evident all around. “Please, gather around the EMP, but don’t touch it. If one of you is responsible for taking it down, I swear to Ashby I’ll kill you myself before the bots can get to you.”

  The threat was so out of character for Mattli that Mason knew he was just as scared of the approaching cloud as everyone else.

  “How do they even know we’re here?” Lehman asked.

  “Who knows? They found us a lot faster than they did Ashely and me. I imagine it’s because there’s more of us and more noise,” Mason suggested.

  “It’s hard to tell. Besides, it doesn’t matter. We knew they’d come, and now, here they are. Nothing for it but to see if our hard work will actually pay off,” Mattli said.

  Mason snorted. “Cold comfort, Mattli.”

  Mattli grunted, but never took his eyes off the approaching cloud.

  “Come as close as you can, everyone. Get away from the outer edges,” Mason instructed.

  “What about the boat?” an islander asked in a voice made shaky by her fear.

  “Leave it. Our lives are more important,” Mason said.

  “Couldn’t we flee on it?” she asked, eyeing the boat.

  “No. You’ll never make it in time. The cloud is already much too close to us. It’ll be on top of us inside of five minutes. You’ll never launch the boat in that time.”

  Gasps and screams passed through the group. “Stay calm, for Ashby’s sake,” Lehman said. “Mattli’s right. We all prepared for this. We already knew the bots were here, so you have no right to be surprised by them. Put on your big-boy pants and look those bots head-on. If we’re lucky, they won’t hurt us.”

  It was the longest five minutes of Mason’s life. Except for maybe when he watched Ashley die, although he’d never thought of that in the context of time. Watching it happen, he had no concept of anything but horror. One minute, he’d been sleeping next to his best friend. The next, she was reduced to skull and bones, and then nothing.

  Standing there, watching the fog get bigger, thicker, and closer, was a different kind of torture. He made his way to the edge of the circle the islanders had made around the EMP.

  “Mason, wait,” Lehman called.

  But he didn’t answer. He went to the east side, where the bots were closing in on them fast. He took one step outside the circle. As he was in front, he’d be the first person to be eaten, if they got through.

  The fog was huge, and it made Mason feel like there was no world outside the cloud as it approached. But soon, it stopped making progress. It only spread out around them, all the way to the beach. It made a semi-circle around them, out to the water. The boat was protected.

  Mason smiled. “The range on the EMP is better than I thought.”

  It gave them about a five hundred-yard radius. It wasn’t a tremendous amount of space, and they’d probably be bickering like siblings before long from constantly being so close to each other, but it was a start.

  A cheer erupted from the islanders as they surrounded Mason and lifted him up.

  “We’re safe!” they cried.

  “For now,” Mason said, but his words were drowned out by the joy of the islanders over the fact they hadn’t died. At least not that day.

  It took a few hours to get the supplies off the boat. Once they were all offloaded, Mason recommended moving inland a little. But the other two former elders cautioned against it.

  “If we move the boat outside the range of the EMP, the bots will get it.”

  In the time they’d spent unloading, it seemed like a larger amount of bots had shown up. The people were surrounded. The grey wasteland that spread before them was no longer visible.

  “We’ll also be cut off from our food source,” Lehman pointed out. “We can’t let the bots get between us and the sea.”

  “Fine. We stay here then,” Mason conceded. He supposed they were right. He just wanted to see how far they could go. But even he could admit they couldn’t see anything anymore through the fog of the bots. He wouldn’t even be able to tell which direction they were going.

  The islanders started building their settlement, and Mason tried not to focus on the bots. They made him feel rather claustrophobic, and he found himself missing the desolation of the world outside.

  A few days later, they were working to get a few planks under the EMP to stabilize it when something extraordinary happened.

  “What’s that sound?” Lehman asked.

  It was a whooshing noise. Mason looked around, but Mattli, Lehman, and all fifty of the islanders had stopped their work, searching for the source of the noise. It got louder and louder as whatever it was approached.

  If it was the other side of the bots, they’d never see the danger coming, and would have no idea how to protect themselves if they could. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. He was rooted to the ground by the mysterious sound.

  Then something flew over them. Something. Flew. Overhead.

  It looked like some kind of white aircraft, but that was ridiculous. Airplanes didn’t exist anymore. He’d only seen pictures of them in the head elder’s library over on the island, and he recalled images of them with some difficulty. But it was moving too fast and loud to be anything…natural. His mind worked the image to death, coming up empty as he kept his eyes to the sky.

  “What the hell was that?” Mason asked.

  9.

  The shuttles. They were going to be the key to their salvation, apparently. Except Vega had never flown the shuttles to the ground. She’d done plenty of back and forth during her rotations to deliver supplies and goods between the other ships. In fact, she had more hours in them than the jets. The shuttles were their workhorses, while the jets were built for speed when they needed something fast. Unfortunately, like the jets, the shuttles had never ventured below forty-thousand feet. Ever.

  As soon as she heard what she’d be flying, she went straight to maintenance.

  “How will they perform below forty thousand?” she demanded, hoping it would be like the jet she’d taken down. It had done beautifully. But the shuttles were built differently. A lot differently. Built in secret, as special units for the airships before they left Earth’s surface, they were made to hover and make precision landings, which made them ideal for landing in a small space, but something told her it wouldn’t be so easy.

  “Unknown, Captain Fowell,” Selam answered.

  “Unknown?” Vega asked. “Come on, Selam. You have to give me more to go on than that.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain. We’ve never been below thirty thousand with them. The air is denser down there. The ash could clog the fans. Any number of things could happen.”

  Selam pulled up schematics on the glass behind her. It showed the four fan blades in each corner of the shuttles. She pointed to the different blades. “Ash and debris could get sucked up here and spell disaster for you.”

  “You’re not making this sound fun.” Vega sighed.

  “I’m just preparing you for possible dangers.” Selam turned back to the screen. “If that happen
s, flush the system immediately.”

  Vega nodded as she watched the screen. The shuttles were flat and wide, made for carrying cargo…not for going to the surface. “Is this really our best option to go to the ground?”

  “Yes. You know that probably just as well as I do. There’s nothing else that would have enough power to get you down and back up in such a small area. As it is, we’ll be taking the airship down to about ten thousand feet to accommodate the mission.”

  “So I’ll be taking off at low altitude?” Calculations ran through Vega’s mind as she tried to figure out the overall impact of the denser air on the shuttle.

  “Aye.”

  “And what about the EMP possibility? Do we know how the shuttle would respond to that?”

  “I’ve actually run a few scenarios with that. I think the EMP will be the least of your concerns. The technology is different from when the bots were around. The components are protected. If anything gets through, it should be minimal. You should be fine.”

  “Well, there’s a bright spot,” Vega said, letting a bit of sarcasm seep into her voice.

  Selam ignored the comment and went on. She zoomed in to the front section of the rectangular shuttle. “Cameras will be fixed here, with one toward the center undercarriage back here.” She zoomed out and back in again to the center of the ship. “They will have panning capabilities, but no sound. You will be provided with this.” She held up a small earpiece. It looked like a hearing aid.

  “It will allow you to not only hear everything that’s said in the conference room, but also to respond, even if you aren’t in the shuttle,” Selam told her.

  “That’s new,” Vega said, taking the tiny, clear earpiece from her outstretched hand.

  “Yes, well, we’ve never needed such range on the headsets.”

  Normal headsets had a separate mic, fairly low profile. Everything remained attached to the ear, and there wasn’t a boom that came across the pilot’s face, like in old-timey movies, but the devices only worked inside the aircrafts. Vega had run into that problem a few times when she’d had a maintenance issue during her run-up checklists. She’d have to stop what she was doing to get into the shuttle and report the issue or request assistance. It was clear how much easier her job would be with earpieces such as the one she now held.

  “How did you accomplish this?” Vega asked, turning the earpiece over in her hand.

  “The folks in engineering helped. I think they had fun with it, making something new for once, instead of figuring out how to keep something working with parts from something else.” Selam smiled as she watched Vega. “But be careful with it, for heaven’s sake. We only have two or three of them so far.”

  “Thank you, Selam. This is…groundbreaking.”

  “Please, don’t thank me. I’ll leave the groundbreaking to you.”

  Vega looked at her, but Selam remained unwavering. “Listen, my job is to present the information and prepare you for what’s ahead. Your job is to execute it flawlessly.” Her tone was flat, as if the job was as easy as walking across the room and flipping on the light.

  “Simple as that.”

  “Simple as that,” Selam repeated, finally looking into Vega’s eyes with her own deep brown eyes.

  Vega thought she saw some sympathy there, a softening, or maybe it was just a better-ye-than-me look. Regardless, she glanced over to the schematic again, hoping the machine would be able to get her to the ground. After that, she knew all bets were off.

  Vega’s mission would be unprecedented. She would fly the shuttle, alone, to the ground, taking a comm with her, so that she could stay in touch with the major and the other nations. If all went well, she’d speak to those on the ground. Their hope was that the surface dwellers would agree to help them find a way to land safely. Then, if nothing had happened to the shuttle on the descent, she would return home. However, there were a lot of variables in place for that part of the mission, and she was told to be flexible and to take it one step at a time.

  It was no small task.

  She tried not to focus on the fact that there was a very real possibility she may never get back. There was every indication that she’d be stuck on the ground indefinitely. Maybe even crash the shuttle and die. Schooling her mind, she focused on her tasks and how she would accomplish them.

  Vega had never overseen negotiations before. She’d been a manager plenty of times, but that was for people who already knew they were supposed to listen to her.

  “Sir,” she’d pleaded with Major Burridge. “Don’t you think you should send someone with me? Someone who’s a bit more skilled in the diplomatic?”

  “Like who, the president?”

  Vega choked on a laugh. They both knew the president wasn’t the most qualified, nor would they ever leave their fate to him. He was an idiot who relied too heavily on the people around him to lead.

  “Well, what about you?” Vega ventured, knowing he’d probably say no.

  “Captain Fowell, you know I need to stay up here with the ship. There’s too much at stake.”

  Vega nodded. “But what if—”

  Major Burridge cut her off. “No. There is no what-if. Get the job done. Get in, get out with help, and come home. End of discussion. You’re dismissed.”

  Vega had left his office feeling alone and unsure if she was strong enough to do the task at hand.

  She’d taken a chance and called Jo, hoping to lift her spirits. She wasn’t supposed to see Jo at all, but calling her was in the grey area. She’d tried to keep their correspondences short by limiting herself to texting after their last call. Vega didn’t want to say something she shouldn’t.

  “Vega?” Jo answered on the first ring, and her voice was heavy with concern.

  “Hey, Jo. I shouldn’t talk long, I just wanted to hear your voice.” Vega hoped the fear she felt taking hold of her wouldn’t show through to her best friend.

  “What the hell is going on? Where are you? When are you coming home?” Vega had expected the barrage of questions, but she didn’t have any solid answers to give.

  “I’m still in separate quarters. I’ve been isolated until the mission is over. I just… Jo, can you promise me something?”

  “Of course, anything. What’s going on?”

  “Promise me that if something happens, you’ll stay safe. Keep your head on. Don’t panic.”

  “Panic? Why would I panic? Vega, what have you gotten yourself into?”

  “Jo, I didn’t volunteer for this. Let’s be real clear about that.”

  “Huh, you certainly deflected that nicely.”

  “And so did you,” Vega retorted. “Jo, this is serious. I need you to attempt to stay calm. No matter what.”

  “You’re freaking me out,” Jo said, her voice raising a few decibels.

  “Not exactly giving me the confidence you’ll stay calm if something does happen,” Vega said dryly.

  Jo took a deep breath that was apparent to Vega even over the line before saying, “Right. I’m the epitome of cool, calm, and collected.”

  “Right.” Vega sighed, not sure what she hoped to accomplish with the call. She knew her friend would want to know what was going on, and if she was okay. Vega couldn’t give her any of that. In a moment of weakness, she’d wanted a friend. That was all.

  “Vega?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you okay?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Was she okay? The fate of the world rested on her going to the surface and getting whoever was down there to cooperate with her. What if they weren’t friendly? What if the shuttle crashed and she died before she could even make contact? What if she got stranded down there? She wasn’t used to going into an assignment with so many questions, and it made her head spin.

  “I hope so.” At least it was an honest answer.

  “Not quite the warm fuzzies I was looking for,” Jo said. “Tell me one thing, honestly.”

  “I’ll try,” Vega answered, uncomfortable with co
mmitting to anything.

  “Why can’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  Vega took a deep breath. Did the why really matter? Except that not answering would lead to more why questions, like a never-ending conversation with a three-year-old. “Major Burridge thinks if my mission got out, it might lead to a panic, particularly if it is…unsuccessful.”

  “Does unsuccessful mean you die?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “No warm fuzzies again.”

  “I know. But I’m doing my very best to avoid that particular scenario.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Jo said. “Just do me one favor?”

  “Anything, Jo.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Always.” Vega could feel the end of their conversation coming, and she didn’t want to admit it. Somehow, she felt like it might be the last time she talked to Jo.

  That night, Vega had trouble sleeping. From where she sat in her cold, dark bunk, she’d solved nothing. In fact, she’d created more questions and more risks. She had no idea what would become of them and their way of life, but she could only hope it wouldn’t end in destruction at the hands of Ashby’s bots.

  Vega wasn’t sure if the people down below really held the key to their salvation. It was entirely possible they would think she was there to save them. They looked far worse off than the Perseus was at this point. Vega knew the systems could start failing at any moment, and they were on borrowed time. But those people… That man.

  She picked up her tablet and pulled up one of the images she’d taken of him. He’d lived a hard life. His skin was tough, his beard unkempt. There was a fierceness in his eyes that told Vega he fought for his life. Every minute of every day. She zoomed in on his face with her handheld glass, and goose bumps formed on her arms.

  “Who are you? What have you been through?” she asked the image, but he didn’t answer. He just continued to strain against the machine he was holding up, determined to get it where they needed it. As if all of their lives depended on his strength. Maybe they did.