CICADA: A Stone Age World Novel (13 page)

John, Frank, Stephen and the Teacher stood in front of the towering gate of Bios-2, waiting for the Teacher to be ushered inside. John had taken Frank and Stephen first and demanded an audience with their leader, the one who the settlers here called the Senator. Their request was granted, but this Senator would speak directly with the Teacher and only the Teacher. John didn’t like it because it would be so simple for them to kill or hurt the Teacher without them there to protect him. Yet the Teacher insisted, saying he would be protected by his God and to have faith. John relented, as he always did, and so they waited, standing before this massive gate, in their finest red robes. It was their normal procedure to have the warriors wear red and the apostles wear white. Whether they were in battle or negotiating with an enemy, they wore red with the intent of striking fear in their opponents. Plus, their enemy would be less likely to be able to tell the generals from the soldiers with them all wearing the same thing.

Their robes were a gift from God after the Teacher received the Book; they were led to a hotel supply company and took more than a thousand white robes. One of their followers knew how to dye fabrics and made a blood-red dye for most of the robes, holding back fifty white ones. They then added their GA insignia where the hotel’s name would have gone. The apostles wore the white as an expression of purity in their belief of the Teacher, and the warriors the red to show that they wore the blood of their enemies like a badge of honor.

A large rumble sounded behind the gate, shaking the very ground on which they stood. Then the gate cracked open, just enough for one man at a time to pass through.

The Teacher looked calm. “John, you and your men wait for me here. I will return shortly with exactly what we want.” He then stepped forward and into Bios-2, the gate rumbling closed immediately behind him.

Melanie, led by “Simple” Simon Washington, walked up to the entrance of Westerling’s office and the Observation Tower. Simon was no longer watching her, at least that she knew. But he was detailed to their apartment building, where most of the scientists lived. So she asked him to lead her to Westerling’s office. She didn’t need an escort, but she thought it might still be good to include him. If he scored more comic books because of what she had to say, maybe Simon would be more predisposed to trusting her, and it would be smart to have a friend on the inside.

“Mrs. Melanie Reid to see Senator Westerling,” announced Simon through the intercom button. “She has information she wishes to share about her meeting with the scientists.” Simon spoke the words exactly as she had coached him.

The thick door buzzed open and she took the lead as they entered. Until now, she hadn’t really paid attention to the security features of this entry area. Like much of Bios-2, the whole Observation Tower building was well designed from the beginning. It was entirely shielded against EMPs, as if they had known ahead of time that the Earth’s atmosphere would become a raging electrical catastrophe for anything with a closed circuit. What she hadn’t noticed, even during their visit earlier this morning to see the public execution, was the high level of security: six guards, the whole-body imaging scanner to pass through the second-tier entry, security cameras and lots of guns. All posed a nearly impenetrable barrier of protection for anyone wishing harm to Operations or Senator Westerling.

Melanie endured another over-the-top pat-down for weapons—in the pre-Event world, it would have been called groping—by a sneering guard, who was then able to see everything he felt in real-time color from the whole-body imager. She had heard some of her images were being floated around by the guards; she guessed this one would be added to their collection soon enough.

She was escorted to the elevator.

Just before the doors closed, she looked back and caught a glimpse of a tall man in a full-length red robe brushing by Simon; it reminded her of a hotel bathrobe but dyed in blood, and rather than bearing a hotel name on the breast, this one said
God’s Army
. She knew instantly that this was one of the robed men who had put on the bloody display this morning. But his face was hidden in the shadows of his hood draped over his head. In the moment that passed when she saw him, she thought,
Maybe he doesn’t have a face
, and then she saw only his blue, piercing eyes. They glowed like a wild animal’s in moonlight. The doors closed and they were gone.

The guard behind her intoned his instructions. “You will sit in the Observation Waiting Room. Senator Westerling has an appointment before you…”

Melanie heard none of this; she saw only those two eyes gazing at her. She felt undressed… exposed. She folded her arms around her chest and hugged herself, trying to apply reason to her disquiet. She didn’t know if it was the smug guards and their violations, the stranger in the red robe, or the fact that she was about to turn in several scientists who were not cooperating with their plan to assist—her mind cried out,
You mean ‘aid and abet’—
Westerling and Lunder.

She wished she could have spoken to Carrington again after her meeting with her colleagues, but she knew he was working on Westerling’s solar power plan. She would fly solo on this and do what they originally agreed upon.

But it felt wrong. It was more than a feeling; her gut was telling her this was wrong. Telling her she needed to stop and go back. Her gut told her to not go through with this.

The elevator doors slid open and they spilled into the lush entry foyer with Westerling’s office door on the right and the Observation Waiting Room on the left. The conference room connected them. There were other chairs in the foyer, but Lunder must have wanted her in the waiting room because she was deposited there by her guard. He released his claw-like grip on her arm and shut the door behind her.

It was a small room with a couple comfortable leather chairs and that same floor-to-ceiling forty-five-degree window, which looked out toward Bios-2’s main gate and beyond that, the platform. The four dead men were still on display, like some crazy real-life art exhibit left to rot in the sun’s burning heat. She blinked her eyes, as much to remove that image as to mitigate the glare, and then noticed the wall and door that separated this room from the conference room.

She tried the door—it was unlocked—and gingerly stuck her head through, confirming it was empty. She had forgotten how big a room it was; their eyes and minds had been on other things this morning. She was somewhat shocked to see the door to Westerling’s office was open, remembering that he had to put his whole body into the heavy door to open it and that it automatically closed from a tension spring. She was about to shut herself back in the waiting room when she heard voices.

“Lunder, let’s hold back on the plan to take over Cicada until after we know where we stand with this leader of that giant army outside.”

That one word made her freeze. She dropped to her knees, not wanting to be seen but now desperate to hear more. She found a doorjamb by the door and shoved it under the door so it could close most of the way and not be obvious, but remain open enough so she could hear them.

“I was going to ask you about that, sir. I’ll put it aside until you give the go command to bring Cicada to its knees.”

She quietly hurried to the exit, wanting to get out and tell Carrington about Cicada.
It still exists?
She could hardly believe it, but believe it she did. A peek outside revealed the red-robed guy getting off the elevator with three guards. They strode through the foyer directly to Westerling’s office. She shut the door and quietly returned to her listening position by the conference room entrance. Perhaps she could learn more while she waited for a chance to flee.

“Sir,” said Lunder, “he’s here.”

It sounded to her like another door was opened, probably the one to Westerling’s office, and then sounds of introduction between Lunder and she guessed the red-robed man, but she couldn’t hear well enough. She stuck her head further through the door.

After a few seconds of listening to her staccato heartbeat in her ears, she heard Lunder again. “Sir, this is the Teacher.”

“The Teacher, huh. They don’t have real names where you come from?” Westerling chided.

“That is what my followers call me, so it is the name I use now,” he said in a calm voice. Melanie pictured those eyes, blue and piercing, looking at her. She shuddered.

“I’m Brian Westerling, but you can call me Senator.” Scorn dripped from Westerling’s voice. “You now have an audience, what do you want?”

“Senator, I will be brief because you appear to be a man who is leading many people. My followers and I only need two things from you: some water and food, and information about Cicada.”

Melanie’s shoulders were in the way of the door and jamb as she craned her neck further through the crack in the door, desperate to hear what was said next.

“That’s three things, actually. Hang on for a moment while I talk to my Security Chief.”

A long silence and the fear of being caught made her pull her head back, like a bug going back into its hole, hiding. She heard a conversation in the background.

“I agree to your request,” Westerling announced, “but let me show you something first.”

Melanie craned her neck back out. Then she saw them coming toward the conference room, and she was so startled, she almost fell backwards. She softly pushed the door nearly closed, the jamb resisting, keeping it open only enough for sounds to get through and scurried back a few steps, out of view.

Westerling’s voice now boomed, no longer muffled by the glass wall. “You can see a perfect panorama beyond our city walls right here. We had a great view of your display this morning, as you can see. Walk this way. So that you can understand who is in charge here, I need to show you something. Then, I’ll describe our roles here and how we can help each other.”

More silence. If she’d been a fly on the wall at least she could’ve seen what was going on.

“You see your men down there?” asked Lunder.

“Yes, of course,” said the Teacher.

“Which is your least senior man?”

“Stephen. Of the three, he is the one furthest away, on our left,” the Teacher stated, his voice still calm and resolute. “Why?”

“I want you to see”—it was Westerling now—“just what we are capable of.”

Melanie rose only enough from her low crouch to see past an armchair between her and the floor-to-ceiling window. She could see three men in red robes, just like the one the man calling himself Teacher wore. They were alone at the other side of the gate, waiting.

Some activity on the wall to the right of the gate drew her attention. One of the guards, manning one of the five ray guns, swung it toward the farthest of the three robed men. A blinding bolt of electricity blasted in his direction.

She pinched her eyes tightly shut, but it was too late. She knew from working on these damned things that you could not look right at the energy blast or you would be blinded for a minute or two. It was like looking directly at a lightning strike.

When she opened her eyes, she saw only white light and a small patch of her vision. She caught a glimpse, and it was clear enough. The victim was now a blackened smoldering heap, over twenty feet from where he originally stood. She closed her eyes again, waiting for her blindness to pass. She didn’t need to know what he looked like. Carrington and she had perfected these awful weapons, an offshoot of the concept of a Taser, shooting an electronic ground into the target at the same time that the lightning bolt was released, ensuring a precise hit on the target. Her contribution was the timing mechanism that enabled the Taser-like dart to hit its target an instant before the bolt.

The results were the same. The target was killed instantly, leaving an almost unrecognizable, torched husk of a human behind. More importantly, those around the victim learned to not screw with Bios-2. What only a few people understood was that these great weapons had only one dart. After that, the bolts of electricity would fly in any direction to the nearest ground. And the electrical charge was limited to maybe two or three more bolts before it was spent and needed to be recharged, which took some time with their limited power supplies. It was mainly a weapon of show. But the show was both awesome and awful.

“You see, Teacher,” Westerling continued haughtily, “I chose to let you and your two most senior men live, because of what you can do for me. But I could burn you all to hell if I felt like it.”

“Will… will you kindly tell me what you want from us?” asked the Teacher. His words skittered and wavered, his voice frail.

“Your followers will receive the food and water you need, and I will show you where Cicada is located. I’m even going to show you how to take over Cicada and kill everyone there. They have an abundance of food and resources. But you will remain at Cicada. Cicada will be yours to do with as you please. And you will never return here.”

Melanie sprang up. Her face drawn, her mouth locked open; she breathed out a long breath. It was far worse than they had suspected. They were being lied to about Bios-2, of course. But she never expected to hear that Cicada was still functioning and its people were alive. When they had first arrived at Bios-2, thinking that they were at Cicada—that’s what Carr’s invitation showed—they were told that Cicada was dead and that all of the scientists were being diverted to this second facility. They had accepted this because it made sense. But others speculated that Cicada might still be more than a dream, especially after the heavy-handed treatment they all received. Now she knew, Cicada did exist… but for how long? Westerling had just arranged for everyone to be slain and the facility sacked by these red-robed killers. And no one else knew about it.