The Library at Mount Char Part 39

Carolyn frowned, tapped her teeth with her fingernail. "If you guys don't want to be involved, that's fine. I don't blame you. Help me with the hatch and I'll meet you by the gate."

"I can't let you do that," Erwin said again.

Carolyn turned to him. She spoke gently, as if explaining something to a small child. "Erwin...this isn't a negotiation. There's no 'let.' Are you going to help or not?"

Erwin didn't move.

Carolyn rolled her eyes, then turned back to the bull. She strained against the lid, arms quivering with effort. She didn't quite lift it past the tipping point before her strength failed. The hatch fell back open with a clang, deafeningly loud. The sound rolled out over Garrison Oaks like a gong. Down in the neighborhood, doors began to open. She heard one of the dead ones call out, saying, "Here you dogs! Get out of that trash." But its voice was uneasy.

Behind her, there was a tiny click as Erwin thumbed off the safety of his pistol. "I can't let you do that," he repeated.

She heard a low, ba.s.s rumbling. It was still distant, but it was closing fast. "Put down the pistol, Erwin."

"I'm thinking no," Erwin said.

Naga looked up at the sky and roared. Down in the neighborhood the dogs had come out to join the dead ones. At the sound of Naga's voice, a couple of them barked. One of the dead ones called out, "Heeeere kitty-kitty."

All of a sudden the night was very bright, very loud. A low-flying helicopter came around the curve of the ridge line. It had a search light, hot and white. Stubby wings on the side bristled with bombs, missiles, guns.

"What is that?" Carolyn called out, shouting to be heard above the rotors.

"AH 64," Erwin said. "Apache gunship."

A moment later a second helicopter appeared as well. The two of them hovered over the clearing of the bull, searchlights blazing. The air filled with pine straw, dirt, leaves, small twigs. The light was painfully bright.

Margaret peeped out of the bull to see what was happening. She said something, too soft for Carolyn to hear, then lay back down inside.

"What are they doing?" Steve asked.

One of the helicopters had a PA system. "SET DOWN YOUR WEAPONS. SET DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND STEP AWAY FROM THE DOG."

Naga roared again. Steve patted her shoulder. "She's not a dog!" Naga brushed Steve's waist with her shoulders and swished her tail, grateful. Carolyn smiled. They really do get on well together.

"They're looking for me, I 'spect." Erwin set his pistol down and waved at the pilots. Then, yelling over the rotor wash, "That's a M230 chain gun. Thirty-millimeter rounds." He held his fingers apart to ill.u.s.trate. "I saw a guy get hit in the chest with one of them. All that was left was his legs."

"Tell them to go away," Carolyn said.

"Can't. No radio. They wouldn't lissen, anyway."

"You're sure you want it this way?"

Steve touched Erwin on the shoulder. "Erwin, I think you really ought to-"

Erwin shook his head. "Nothing I can do."

"OK," Carolyn said. "Fine." She turned back toward the neighborhood and spoke quietly, to no one in particular. "Orlat keh talatti."

"What?" Steve shouted.

"'Project and defend.'"

VI.

At first there was nothing.

Then, from the dark recesses of Garrison Oaks, came the sound of...what? Something is coming, Steve thought with a shiver. Some terrible thing. He heard it even over the helicopters, low at first, but building-the deep scream of nails wrenched from wood, the clatter and tinkle of breaking gla.s.s, thick pine cracking to splinters.

The light from the streetlamps was poor, and of course there was no moon. Even so, squinting down the street, he got a distinct sense of motion in the shadows. Whatever it is, it's big. He caught a flash of motion and looked over at Erwin. He sees it too.

The worry lines around Erwin's eyes were deep and well worn. He turned to the helicopter with the loudspeaker and waved his arms over his head. "G'wan! Get the f.u.c.k outta here!"

"Close your eyes," Carolyn said to Steve.

"What?"

The helicopters were ignoring Erwin. He changed to a more complicated hand signal. "Go on before she-"

"Steve. Close your eyes."

But she didn't wait-she stepped behind him and clapped her hand over his eyes. A bare instant later, there was a bright flash, as if a camera the size of a football field had gone off.

"Ah, f.u.c.k," Erwin said. "I'm blind."

"It's just temporary," Carolyn said. "It wasn't aimed at you. Give it a few minutes and you'll be fine."

The pitch of the helicopters' rotors began rising, the engines cycling up toward a scream.

"Are they leaving?" Steve asked, too quiet to be heard outside his own head.

"What?" Erwin said.

"IT'S JUST TEMPORARY," Carolyn said.

"WHAT? I CAN'T UNNERSTAND YA. TOO LOUD."

The searchlight that had been on them wavered a bit, then fell away entirely. Blinking, Steve looked up at the Apache. It banked to one side as if it had been called away on some urgent business. Then, neatly and professionally, it pointed its nose down, accelerated-it was surprisingly quick-and crashed into the road a hundred yards or so away. Even at this distance, the heat of the fireball was immense.

"f.u.c.k!" Steve said. "Holy f.u.c.king f.u.c.k!"

"Ah, s.h.i.t," Erwin said. "Was that what I think it was?"

A moment later the other helicopter performed a similar move-nose down, a quick acceleration, then a tidy, professional crash. In the light of the fireball Steve recognized the bluff he had jogged around that morning. Suddenly the night was uncomfortably warm. Without the rotor wash, it was once again possible to converse normally.

"I said, it's only temporary."

"What's only temporary?" Steve asked.

"Erwin's blindness. It's a vehicle. The signal is bespoke-it only kills hostiles, but it's blinding for everyone."

"Bespoke," Steve said. "What?"

"It means 'tailored,'" Erwin said. "What signal?"

"The light you saw. It's a defense mechanism. It radiates out from the optic nerve and activates the slave neurons."

"What?"

"Slave neurons. They make you suggestible. The light activates them-once they're part of the architecture of thought, a person will do as they're told."

"Like them bank tellers?" Erwin said.

I wouldn't have thought of that, Steve thought. Once he heard it, though, it made perfect sense. That Erwin's a clever guy.

"Exactly."

"What were the pilots told to do?" Steve asked.

"An expeditious suicide. Painless if possible, but immediate." Carolyn paused. "If you care, they probably didn't suffer. I'm told the overall experience is quite pleasant."

Steve felt sick. Slave neurons? "Jesus, Carolyn. Those guys were just doing their jobs. I mean, they probably had families, little kids and-"

She shrugged. "It was their choice."

"Carolyn, they-"

"That's the risk in working to be a dangerous person," she said. "There's always the chance you'll run into someone who's better at it than you."

Erwin's lips peeled back over his teeth in a flash of raw, simian aggression. Carolyn watched, sphinxlike.

Steve stood between them. Dangerous people, indeed. "Hey," he said. "What's that?"

"What?" Erwin said.

"There's something moving back there. In the sky. I can see it blotting out the lights from town, but I can't quite make out what it is." He turned to Carolyn. "Is it...like, your mother ship? Something like that?"

She ignored him and spoke to Erwin. "Are your eyes any better?"

"A little, yeah," Erwin said. "I don't think she's an alien, kid."

"Good. You should be fine in a few more minutes. Steve, head back down the hill. I'll meet you there in a few minutes."

Steve glanced at the bull, uneasy. "Carolyn, I really don't think you should-"

"Just go, Steve. I know you don't understand, but it's what Margaret wants. I'm going to give her that." Then, softening, "But you won't want to see it. Wait for me, at the bottom of the hill. I'll be along."

"What about Erwin?"

"He'll be fine in an hour or so."

"Where are we going?"

"Home."

VII.

"C'mon, Naga." Steve turned his back on Carolyn and Erwin and headed down the stairs. Back on Highway 78 he took a couple of steps toward a burning helicopter, thinking to look for survivors. But even from this distance the heat from the fires was enough to curl the hair on his arms. No one could have survived that. He walked a little closer anyway, morbidly fascinated-then he heard a quick series of explosions. Pop! Pop-pop-pop!

Ammunition cooking off. "Ah, s.h.i.t."

He turned and fled, hunched over, to the Garrison Oaks sign. He took cover with his back to the decorative stone column. He saw a bunch of people milling around in the neighborhood, and some dogs, too. They didn't seem interested in him.

A few minutes later a clanging gong sound rolled down from the top of the hill. I guess Carolyn figured a way to shut the hatch. Morbidly curious and suppressing a shiver, he stood and looked back up the hill. There was a new fire up there, smaller than the burning helicopters. Carolyn was walking toward him, silhouetted against its yellow flame.

She was alone.

"What did you do?" Steve said as she walked up. "Did you-"

She shook her head. "It's done. That's all. Come on." She walked past him without breaking stride. It was dark in the neighborhood. After only a few steps she was in shadow.

"What about Erwin?"

"He wouldn't come. He wants to be with his people. Come on, Steve."

Steve took a last look at the top of the hill. The third fire was blazing merrily now, a proper bonfire. He thought of Margaret's hand, pale skin against black bronze. He shuddered again. It occurred to him that the burning helicopters would also work very well as a roadblock. No one's getting through that until morning, at least, he thought. It's just the two of us now.

That was true in a way, but they were not alone. The dead ones were out-dozens of them, maybe hundreds-men, women, and children. They were dressed in decades-old rags-polyester, ancient denim, and paisley. One kid held an Atari joystick. The cord hung limp between his bare, dirty feet. It looked like it had been chewed. He looked up at Steve and said, "It's time for Transformers."

"You betcha." Steve jogged up to join Carolyn, grateful for Naga's bulk at his side. Carolyn was untying the shoelace that tethered David to the mailbox. The bubble of blackness that started at his eyes had grown, Steve saw. Now it was over two feet across. It encased his head completely, and a good bit of his chest as well.

"Don't be afraid," Carolyn said, gesturing at the people milling on the street. "They won't hurt us."

"Well, good," Steve said, dubious.