Moon Music (53 page)

Patricia nodded. Not that Alison saw it. She was too busy speeding across the desert floor, hugging the mountains as she drove without lights. It was a miracle that she didn't crack into the granite wall, exploding them both to smithereens. Patricia looked out the back window, at a black sky flecked with silver. Suddenly, it seemed so beautiful. Tears ran down her face.

No, no, no. You can't give up! You
can't
give up!

Alison took a deep breath and let it out. "A new creation, but done not by God, but by man. See what happens, Detective, when man tries to imitate God? He messes it up and creates hideous life forms. You know why? Men just don't know when to stop. They just keep going and going and going until they finally say: 'Oh no, I went too far.' You've known guys like that, haven't you? I certainly have."

Patricia answered with a muted grunt.

"I mean, look at all this cloning, Detective. Do you really think that they've only cloned a mere sheep? I mean, if they admitted to cloning an adult sheep, what aren't they admitting to? I mean, look at that madman…what's-his-name, who wants to clone people." A snort. "And they think a few laws'll stop him. Boy, is the American public naive!"

Patricia said, "Ooor…iiiite."

"Sure, I'm right! I mean, what is the government
really 
doing? Cloning
man
. It's already
cloned
man, only no one's saying anything. You know what the next step is? Cloning crossspecies. Animal to animal, which
I know
they've done. Next, of course, is animal to person. Then it's male and female and then who knows what else. And it all started because some overzealous scientists decided to nuke half of Japan. Then who do we give the power to? Some Nazi…Werner von Beethoven or something. His secret way to get back at the Americans for spoiling Hitler's dream. And didn't we just buy into it hook, line, and sinker. I mean, can you think of anything more absurd than putting a Nazi in charge of America's nuclear power? You just wait. I'm going to show you everything."

Again, Patricia glanced out the window. Sudden swirls of translucent clouds were passing over the full moon. They were moving fast, indicating winds were moving in.

Alison prated, "If Rom would have been faster on the pickup, he could have saved you. I'm
sure
he's out there looking for you. But the big question is, will he know where to look? Maybe he'll figure it out, but I doubt it. You see, the whole thing with what's-his-face—the casino guy almost blowing his head off?"

The car felt as if it had suddenly been pushed.

"Oh nuts!" Alison exclaimed. "Of all the times! Ah well, you go deep into the desert, you're going to hit winds. Where was I?"

The car was blessedly silent for about ten seconds.

"What were we talking about? Oh, yeah. Romulus and the trigger-happy jerks sent by Parker Lewiston. Let me tell you something, Detective. I tried to warn Rom. I tried to let him know. I was looking right at him, but did that stop him? No, of course it didn't. Because the brown tart came walking down the street and spoiled
everything
."

Again the four-wheeler was buffeted. If the winds got any stronger, they'd slam it into the mountainside.

"…they went back to her apartment. I'm sorry, Detective, but I got a little angry!" Alison hit the wheel for emphasis. "Because I was trying to tell him something, and the floozy couldn't wait to get her pants off. I mean, it's truly disgusting how licentious she is."

Patricia made sounds.

"Just wait a minute!" Alison suddenly felt annoyed. Like this woman was actually making
demands
on her. All these cops were alike. "Anyway, I'm taking you to the most ghastly laboratory on earth. We're almost there. Can you see it?"

No
, Patricia thought.
I can't see a fucking thing except clouds.
The sky had gone from black to charcoal as the moon's light dispersed among the clouds. She could feel sand scratch the car's surface like cats tiptoeing across the roof.

Alison said, "The security there is absolutely appalling. Not that anyone just pops in. I mean, it isn't exactly the Hawaiian Islands. Can you imagine someone writing the PR for this place? Get your daily dose of gammas—faster than UV and just as effective. The test site's just like Las Vegas, you know—both of them slow death. Wastelands."

"Ahhhhh. Oooo uuuh ake iii offf—"

"I'll take it off in a minute. Let me just explain a few things first, okay?"

Patricia didn't answer.

Alison said, "I've got to orient you. So you know what's going on. Have to know what's going on. Now, if you
could
look out the window, you could see Highway 95. You take 95 and get off at the Mercury Highway to travel through the test site. You know how big this place actually is?"

"Oowww iiigg?"

"About the size of Rhode Island. That's a lot of square miles. I forget the exact number. I used to know it. Ah well, memory's going. Part of middle age. Or maybe it has something to do with my powers. Gain some powers, lose others. It's all about conservation of matter. That was what the bomb was all about. Conservation of matter, or energy, which really is matter. Just ask Einstein. E equals MC-squared. E is energy and M is matter and you can convert one to another and that's why I have my powers. The bomb did it to me. You understand now, don't you? It's not hard to comprehend. Just a matter of going back and forth between the states of matter and energy. The key is to make sure you do your conversions properly. Because if you don't, you lose the energy to entropy, which is wasted cells that you'll never get back. And entropy, let me tell you…it's the kiss of death. What you want is enthalpy—matter to energy, and all of it conserved. Good rule of thumb. Enthalpy conserves, entropy dissipates. Dissipates, and it's gone, gone, gone."

A second of silence.

"What was I just talking about before all this?"

Patricia muttered under the tape.

Abruptly, Alison braked and yanked the tape off. Patricia's mouth felt as if it had been planed by a sander. Calmly, she said, "Thank you."

"
De nada
, Detective. What were we talking about? We talked so much. You know, I must admit, I am enjoying this conversation." She paused. "I know! We were talking about the test site."

"The geography," Patricia answered. "You were going to orient me."

Alison shrieked, "You were actually
listening
to me. No one ever listens to me. Certainly not my husband." She hesitated. "I'm really sorry about this, Detective. But I have to do what I have to do."

Patricia said, "You haven't done anything yet. If you don't start now—"

"I'm sorry, but I do have to do it. And probably sooner rather than later. It'll be easier for you and me."

Great job, Patricia. You did better when your mouth was taped
shut
. She said, "Alison, you were telling me about the test site?"

"Right! Normally, if we were regular people, which we aren't. Which
I'm
not, you know that, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Anyway, if you wanted to get through, you'd go through Gate 100—the main entrance—through security courtesy of Wackenhut Services, Inc. And then you'd get badged and all that rigamarole. Me? I'm cutting to the chase. I'm taking you straight onto Mercury Highway via the cattle guard, which doesn't have any fence to speak of. We'll parallel the highway, off-road because we're less likely to be seen. Now, there is this one sorry-looking trailer right as you enter the cattle guard, but it's almost never manned. We'll just plow straight through. We'll pass the pen. You know about the pen, don't you? Or was that before your time? Probably was before your time. Definitely before your time. Know what it was used for?"

"What?"

"The nuke
protesters
. The authorities confined them in the pen before they took them into the nearest city for booking. There used to be lots of protests here—during the sixties and seventies and even the early eighties. But then everything just…" She sighed. "Everything died away. My mom even went to some of the early ones. That was back in the days before…"

Alison stopped talking, then resumed.

"Lots and lots of protests. If you could see, you'd notice that right below the pen, outside Gate 100, is or
was
the Peace Camp. Ever been out there?"

"No."

She sighed. "The place is a ghost town now, like so much of Nevada. So sad. Once it was a thorn in the side of good old Uncle Sam, but now it's a pathetic reminder that we failed, Detective. We failed!"

"That's very sad," Patricia answered.
Think! You dummy!

"The grounds are still littered with tons of rocks painted with peace signs," Alison went on. "It's also got all these half-buried broken shrines to brotherly love. The hippies used to come and decorate the rocks with feathers and turquoise and other things. Know what else is there?"

"What?"

"The old Shoshone sweat lodges. Or what's left of them. Now they're nothing but frames. They look like big geodesic domes—the gym equipment that kids climb on? The Shoshones are related to the Paiutes. Rom's part Pauite. But you know that, right? So sad. Once we had Indians, then we had protesters. And now all of it—going, going, gone! You know what Uncle Sam has left us?"

"What?"

"The army bunkers. Hundreds of them right past Gate 100. They're lined up, one right after the other, end to end, looking like Monopoly hotels. Row after row after row. The soldiers used to live in them during the drops. Now even most of the soldiers are gone. I mean, nothing's left in this toxic waste dump except a few schnooks in Mercury. Could you imagine living so close to all that gamma radiation?"

"Alison, my back's hurting a bit. Could you prop me up, please?"

"Detective, what do you take me for? I'm not dumb."

"I'd just like to be out of pain, that's all."

"…start giving you too much freedom, you're out like lightning."

She isn't buying anything
. Still tethered to the seats, Patricia was out of commission.
You'll have to do better, Patty. Either
better or start praying for a miracle.

Alison said, "Now do you want to hear more or not? Because if I'm boring you, we could get this over right now."

"How could I possibly find this boring?" Patricia tried to sound indignant. "Of course, go on."

"Right, Detective. You just don't want me to do it."

Patricia sighed. "Alison, do whatever you want. I'm in no position to stop you."

A long pause which lengthened to about a minute.

Finally, Alison said, "Tell you what. I'm going to let
you
choose where."

"Choose what? Death by stoning or death by fire?"

"No, not the method, just the place." Alison went silent for a moment. "Okay, I just went past the guard's van outside the cattle guard about two minutes ago. We're officially inside the Nevada Test Site. Now where do you want to go to have it done?"

"How should I know?"

"Want me to tell you the choices?"

"Sure, Alison! Empower me."

"You're getting testy."

"It's all the radiation."

Alison thought over her statement. "You're probably right. Radiation does do strange things to the psyche. Tell you what. First let's get out of Mercury. The town's nothing but a two-bit government base—a bank, a steak house and a bowling alley and a couple of stores. Steve once knew a guy who worked at the sheriff's substation in Mercury, right here in Nye County. He was a real jerk. He made a pass at me. I wouldn't have minded, except he was uuuugly! How about Frenchman Flat? You know about Frenchman Flat?"

"No."

"That's where they dropped the first bomb. Everybody thinks it's Yucca, but it's Frenchman. I checked it out in my research. Frenchman Flat.
Able
was the shot. Like in Cain and Abel. I
told
you this place was trying to imitate the Bible. Even named it after the first family. Want to see it?"

"Alison, I can't see anything."

"Don't worry. I'll describe it to you in detail." Alison smiled to herself. "In lots and lots of detail."

FORTY-NINE

A
S
POE
boarded one of Wackenhut's white Jeep Cherokees, security guard John Keeper handed him a map of the Nevada Test Site. The winds outside were strong, and visibility through the windshield was poor.

Keeper said, "I don't understand entirely what's going on. But if you think you're looking for a fugitive here, I suppose you'll need a map."

Translation: Keeper thought he was crazy.

Poe couldn't look him in the eye without a tinge of embarrassment. Feeling so justified an hour ago, he was now playing a part in some loony play, an obsessed man driven by an insane hunch. But Patricia had been
his
responsibility, and as long as LVMPD was looking for her in town, he might as well search NTS. Weinberg and the Nye County Sheriff's Department had helped him cut through the red tape. But Poe could tell that the loo was more than skeptical, even though Mick was acting supportive. However, there was that nagging feeling that Weinberg was only helping Poe to get him out of the way.

Keeper looked to be in his twenties, athletically built, with iron pumper arms and a wide neck. His hair was sparse and amber in color. His pink cheeks held the remnants of acne pitting. He said, "We called in the description of the car to Nye County. They're looking around the town of Mercury."

"I guarantee you that if they're here, they're not in any populated area." Poe regarded the map, commenting on the enormousness of the site.

"Eight hundred and sixty thousand acres," Keeper announced. "We're a state in a state. What is visible is just the tip of the iceberg. Mercury's completely surrounded by mountains. Beyond that ring are miles of empty land. It's also where all the action is…or was. Still some stuff going on, but not like in its heyday." He cleared his throat. "So where to?"