Ice Storm (32 page)

I twisted my neck. The tables were broken and scattered across the floor. Machines lay on their sides. The ground, once quite clean, was now covered with rocks and other debris.

A slight scratching noise caught my ear. I swung to the south wall. Graham lay under a broken table.

I limped over, pushed the table out of the way. "You okay?"

"Nothing's broken." Graham winced as I grabbed his arms and pulled him to a standing position. "I think."

"You two are still alive?" The cold, familiar voice shot through my ears like a bullet.

I spun around and laid eyes on the vault door. It had been blown completely out of the wall. Now, it lay in a heap on the ground, surrounded by rock and pieces of concrete. Jenner stood on top of it. His eyes were cold. His face was devoid of emotion.

"No thanks to you." I searched the ground for my pistol. "Your little explosion almost killed us."

He smiled. "Everyone dies sooner or later."

Chapter 92

My blood boiled as I thought about all the people Jenner had killed. Raw emotions took over my brain. I steeled my muscles and prepared to charge him.

Jenner lifted his pistol. I heard a soft pinging noise. A cloud of dust shot up from the ground. It surrounded me, got in my lungs. A coughing fit seized me and I fell to a knee.

Bright flashlight beams swung in my direction. Numerous figures stepped into the vault. They lifted rifles into the air.

I dove to the side and ducked behind one of the Amber Room's walls.

Shots rang out.

"Cease fire," Jenner shouted.

The gunfire stopped.

I leaned my back against the wall. Grabbed my machete. I looked around and saw Graham taking cover behind a fallen machine. Beverly was still nowhere to be seen.

I heard shuffling noises. I realized Jenner's soldiers were spreading out, surrounding us.

"Simply astounding," Jenner said. "You know, I'd pictured the Amber Room in my mind thousands of times. But I'd never imagined it would be this beautiful."

"What are you going to do with it?" I called out.

"I'm sure you've already figured out the answer to that question."

"Don't you feel guilty?"

"About what?"

"About everything."

"Why should I? There's no such thing as absolute morality. It's always changing, based on who's got power. You know what they say. Might makes right."

"Power has nothing to do with morality," I replied. "The Nazis won a lot of battles. But their experiments were immoral, period."

"You're looking at history through the eyes of the victors. If Hitler had won his war, your opinion would be very different."

"You can justify it all you like. But what you're doing—what you've done—is wrong."

"On the contrary, I'm the lone voice of reason. As I explained to you before, modern science has removed natural selection from society. The weakest genes no longer die out. Instead, they're growing at an exponential pace. Good genes are slowly getting phased out of existence."

"So what?"

"So, society is devolving. It has to stop."

"Why?"

"Because it's against the natural order," he retorted. "Superpowers crush upstarts. Corporations decimate small businesses. Strong people dominate weak people. But when it comes to genetics, we let bad genes win out over good ones."

"What if this is the natural order?"

"It's not."

"Maybe the reason these so-called bad genes are propagating is because they aren't as bad as you think," I replied. "Maybe what you call dysgenics is just a natural state of evolution. Maybe the better genes are really winning out in the end."

"You're delusional."

Dark figures slid into view. I knew my machete was useless against their rifles. So, I sheathed it and stood up. "That's it, huh?" I stepped out into the open. "You're going to shoot us and take the Amber Room for yourself?"

"Yes."

"Then you're a hypocrite."

A curious look appeared on his face.

"You're using a gun to compensate for weakness. It's no different than a sick person using medicine." I grinned wickedly. "Do society a favor. Don't have kids. Your weak genes should die with you."

Rage flickered across his face. He stepped forward. Tossed his gun to the side.

Then he rushed me.

I tried to sidestep him. But he wrapped me in his arms. Tackled me to the ground. His fists rained down on me.

I raised my arms, warding him off. Then I balled up my fist and launched it at his jaw. My knuckles slammed into his cheek. He grunted and rolled off me.

I stood up.

He rubbed his cheek. Then he stood up as well.

A single desire filled my mind. I wanted to beat him, destroy him. I lunged forward, swinging my fists.

He parried the blows.

I picked up the intensity, aiming punches at his solar plexus and head. He merely smiled and knocked my hands away.

I grew tired. But I kept up a steady attack, hoping to sneak a shot through his defenses.

Then a sharp chop stung my neck.

I doubled over in pain.

His fist crashed into my stomach.

Air flew out of my lungs.

A thunderous punch connected with my chin. I flew backward and crashed into an old machine. It tipped over on top of me. Horrible pain shot through my body. My consciousness started to slip away.

"It's like I said." Jenner's voice barely reached my ears. "Might makes right."

My eyes closed.

Then I drifted away into the blackest of voids.

Chapter 93

"You failed!" Graham glared at me. "You're a disgrace."

"I—”

"Shut up." He snarled. "I can't believe I ever trusted you. Now, I'm dead. Beverly's dead. You're dead. And it's all your fault."

The ground trembled. I fell down. Giant rocks slammed into me. I tried to breathe but my body felt like it was slowly being squeezed of every last drop of air. "I … I tried …"

"He destroyed you. Face it. It's over."

I clenched my fists. "No, it's not."

Chapter 94

My eyes flew open. I tried to speak but my tongue got in the way.

"Thank God." Graham exhaled. "Thought I'd lost you there for a minute."

Dust clogged my throat. I coughed a few times and tried to sit up. But the machine on top of my chest was too heavy to lift. "Where's Aaron?"

"No clue. I just woke up." Graham rubbed the back of his head. "One of those bastards clobbered me from behind."

A booming noise rocked the vault. The ground quaked. The heavy machine slid a few inches across my body. I cried out in pain.

The quaking evaporated a few moments later. The machine shifted back, sliding across my body for a second time. The pain was agonizing.

Graham frowned. "Another explosion?"

"Sure sounded like it."

"But why?"

"I don't know." I struggled to shove the machine off my body. "Give me a hand."

Graham leaned his shoulder against it. We both pushed with all our strength. But it didn't move.

I laughed. And not just a chuckle either. I laughed a real disturbing laugh. The sort of laugh that should've gotten me locked up in an insane asylum. "Oh God, did you see that?" I laughed so hard my stomach started to hurt. "He wiped the floor with me. I barely touched him."

"It happens."

"He crushed me, Dutch. Absolutely destroyed me."

"We'll get another shot at him."

"Don't you get it? I could have a hundred shots at him. It wouldn't change a thing."

"Do you know why you lost?"

My laughter quieted down.

"You lost because you lost yourself. He got into your head, messed around a little."

I lowered my head. The back of my skull touched rock. "How are we supposed to stop him?"

"Not through brute force, that's for damn sure." Graham continued to push the machine. "Look, we don't have to be tougher than him. We have to be smarter, better motivated."

I opened my mind and let his words float around for a bit. I started thinking about what would happen if Jenner escaped with the Amber Room. I thought about the people who would die. My friends back in New York. Graham.

Beverly.

My hands lifted. My muscles bulged as I shoved the machine. It shifted an inch.

I roared. My muscles felt like they were about to burst.

The machine shifted another few inches. Then it crashed to the floor next to me.

I sat up. My eyes narrowed as they fell on the large empty space in the middle of the room. The Amber Room was gone. It was now firmly in Jenner's possession.

But it wouldn't stay that way.

Not as long as I had something to say about it.

Chapter 95

I missed her scent. Even in the stiffest winds, her aroma—a strangely intoxicating mixture of coconuts and vanilla—had remained ever present. But now, I couldn't detect even the slightest trace of it.

I glanced around the vault. "Have you seen …?"

Graham shook his head. "No."

The ground trembled. Rock shifted. More dust wafted into the air.

I cast a wary look at the ceiling. It trembled fiercely, as if it might collapse at any second.

I dusted myself off. Rooted around on the floor until I found my gun. As I strode past the fallen vault door, I noticed signs of recent activity. Debris had been cleared away. Greasy wheel marks lined the ground. A distinct odor of electricity lingered in the air.

The area just outside the vault was quiet and clean. I saw more sets of greasy wheel marks.

Graham crept up behind me. "Any sign of them?"

I shook my head.

"Why didn't they kill us?"

"I don't know."

I twisted back to the vault. The ceiling quaked yet again as I half-jogged, half-limped across the floor. Small pebbles bounced off my parka. More dust clogged the air. It choked my lungs and rendered my eyes nearly useless.

I clambered over some equipment and forged a path to the southeast. Upon reaching the corner, I knelt down and studied the crevice. "It's sealed up, crushed by the shifting rock. We won't be able to get out this way."

"As long as those wolves can't get back in here, I'm fine with that."

I hiked around the rest of the room. In the northeast corner, I noticed a small alcove. Broken pieces of rock choked the entrance to it. But I could just make out the top part of a door. "Beverly?"

I heard a faint groan. Heart pounding, I boosted myself onto a large rock. I crawled over the pile and grabbed the doorknob. I tried to push it open. But it held fast.

I shoved my shoulder into it.

The door flew open.

I pointed my beam into a mid-sized room. I saw a table. Leather straps hung from its sides. Knives, needles, and other sharp instruments gathered dust on the blood-streaked floor. Bits of fabric and what looked like bones lay scattered among the debris.

A second room lay just beyond the first one. I could see a couple of cells within it. Their bars had been ripped open. Torn-up mattresses and more bones lay within them.

I noticed a distinct aroma in the air. But it wasn't blood or gore.

Coconut? And is that vanilla?

I swept my beam toward the table. Beverly Ginger cringed and raised her hand to block the light. Her face looked strangely soft. For the first time since I'd met her, she appeared almost vulnerable.

"Cy?" Gingerly, she rubbed the back of her head. "What happened …?"

"You tell me. One moment you were with us. The next moment you were gone."

"I came in here, shut the door."

"What about the wolves? And the gunfire?"

She gave me a surprised look. "I don't remember any of that. I just remember the room exploding. I guess I passed out."

My brain lost control of my body. Before I could stop myself, I was marching across the room. My arms gathered her up.

My lips met hers.

She kissed me back.

Fireworks exploded inside my head.

Chapter 96

She pulled away from me. A physical chasm appeared between us. But the mental one was much wider.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She glanced around the room. "This was my grandfather's laboratory."

"What?"

"His name was Jean-Pierre Badon. Back in the 1940s, he was a well-known scientist. He specialized in vaccination research. The Nazis captured him during the Battle of France."

"That's why you came here? To find him?"

"I never knew my family. Father Andrews found me outside of St. Michael's Home for Children. I was in this little basket, along with a bunch of yellowed letters." Her eyes tightened. "I spent most of my childhood in group homes. All the while I searched for my parents. But I never located them. I still haven't located them."

"Sounds rough."

"Eventually, I taught myself French just so I could read the letters. They made life bearable. I read them over and over. They were so beautiful. Tender yet full of fire. The kinds of things people write when they're in love." She closed her eyes. "Those letters made me feel like I was a part of something special … a family."

I nodded.

"Someone had marked up the letters. Just little notes about the writer and the recipient. I tracked down the clues and discovered the letters were written by my mom's parents." Her cheeks turned rosy red. "It turns out my grandmother was pregnant with my mom during the Battle of France. She barely escaped capture. After the war, she wrote hundreds of letters, asking every conceivable person about her husband. She never found him."

"That must've been hard on her."

"Eventually, I tracked down my grandmother's grave. She was all alone in this giant cemetery." Beverly’s voice caught in her throat. "I know it's silly. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. She'd loved this man so much and yet she couldn't spend eternity with him. It seemed so wrong. I wanted … no, I needed to find him. I needed them to be together again."