Nine-Tenths (28 page)

“But you’ll end up in prison.”

“Nah.” She laughed unconvincingly. “I’ll head these guys off in five minutes.”

“But when they realize Natalia and I have fled, they’re bound to trace it back to you.”

The guards, having searched the area to the right, moved back toward the MRI room.

“Go!” Alina growled in the harshest tone she could manage at a whisper. Then her voice softened. “Please, Leonard…make it count.” She stomped on his foot. He jumped back involuntarily and she swiftly closed the door behind him. He tried to open it but she held fast.

He turned to face Natalia.

She folded her arms and blinked back tears. “I’m not leaving without Mom.”

The security guards approached, their voices clear and close.

“What’s in here, Stan?”

Without turning back, Leonard snatched his rigid daughter and dragged her farther into the basement. She struggled but, fortunately, did not scream.

“Shit,” he heard Alina say as they retreated. “Why did you turn on the light?” she scolded the guards. “I almost had it. What the hell are you two doing down here?”

Mumbling apologies followed, but Leonard could not make out their words any longer. He saw an exit in the far corner, and he hustled, pulling Natalia by the hand. No longer resistant, the girl followed, tears pouring down her face.

Leonard pushed open the door and a gust of fresh air wafted through his hair. A large stone stairwell rose up into a parking garage. Leonard hauled Natalia over the threshold and the door closed, clicking into place.

Natalia turned back and yanked the handle in vain. She cried hysterically. The locked door did not budge.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Leonard drove on auto pilot for about thirty minutes, Natalia sniffling occasionally by his side. He drove along I-225, a constant reminder of the accident that led to Tommy Richardson’s death. When he pulled onto I-25 South, Natalia spoke.

“Aren’t we supposed to be going north?”

“Huh?”

“North.” She gestured behind them. “You know, the other direction?”

Leonard looked through his rearview mirror, befuddled but slowly slithering back to reality.

“To I-70?” Natalia snapped.

“Oh. Right. I’ll take C-470 around.”

Silence resumed. Natalia kept her head turned, and she studied their surroundings as if she had never seen the Denver Tech Center before. Leonard was not certain if they even called it that anymore. It appeared to be rows of federal office buildings branching out into public housing projects. Nothing about the mess appeared remotely technical, but little did it matter anymore.

Now fully aware of their circumstances, Leonard experienced a wave of pain and guilt. Shame really. He felt ashamed.
Why didn’t I let her go first?

As if reading his mind, Natalia turned suddenly and accused her father. “This is all your fault.”

It is.

“If you had let Mom go first then…then…” Her voice trembled.

“Then she’d be here instead of me.”

Natalia did not answer. She swiveled her head as far as it could possibly go. Sniffling followed, off and on, as they drove in silence.

She’s right.

Grief-stricken, Leonard maneuvered the car west on C-470. He had only just found Alina, after all those years in a ten-by-ten room obsessed over nothing. Dreams about spending time with her, making up for all those lost years, had already made their way into his vision of the future. Now those dreams dissolved into a nightmare, a nightmare that crawled around inside of him like a wounded little creature waiting to be put out of its misery.

The layers of the Rocky Mountains in the distance, which never failed to charm Leonard in his youth, barely touched his senses. As they neared the mountains, snatches of a twelve-foot high chain link fence, topped with razor wire, appeared to run along the foothills. Leonard noticed the barrier and shook his head quietly. It ought to have shocked him, but he had grown numb to the endless absurdities. As the road curved north and they continued their journey, Leonard willed himself not to look at the fence or contemplate its significance. Pressing the gas pedal, he zoomed toward the I-70 and C-470 junction. The road was deserted. The once vibrant highway seemed ghostly.

Approaching the cloverleaf exit to I-70 west, Leonard slowed down dramatically. As he rounded the bend, he glanced to the north.

Suddenly, he gasped. “Oh my God!” he shouted, slamming on the brakes and pulling off onto the shoulder. He leapt out of the car and ran across a patch of grass to the edge of an adjacent road.

Natalia followed.

“What the hell is this?” He threw his arms in the air then jerked them back, covering his mouth with his hands. Shock caused his body to shake.

Natalia reached out and pulled one of his hands away from his face, gently guiding it to her side, maintaining a firm grasp. She gazed out onto the horizon, but remained silent.

The area between I-70 and Colfax had been razed and lay barren. As far as the eye could see, ugly gray buildings covered the area north of Colfax. What once were the cities of Golden and Arvada now contained miles of stone buildings with tiny windows. A massive chain link fence, crowned with razor wire, ran along Colfax, disappearing from view to the east and ambling up to and along the hogback to the west. Seeming to reach out into eternity, the hideous complex confounded Leonard’s senses.

“Is this a prison?” he whispered, turning to face his daughter.

She nodded.

“It’s huge.”

The young girl looked at the ground and said, “My teacher told us they are consolidating the nations prisons in Denver. I’ve seen pictures, but—”

“All the criminals in the nation are coming here?”

“I think most of them already are.”

Leonard twisted his hand in hers, causing Natalia to let go. Slumping, he found a place to sit on the side of the road. Natalia joined him.

The Stasi Satellite execution plan floated to the forefront of his mind. He remembered that there had been no addresses from northern Metro Denver on the light fixture refitting schedule. Why hadn’t that struck him as odd at the time?

“What have they done?” he muttered.

Silence.

“Where did they put all those people?”

“Huh?”

“There must have been a half million people living north of here. Where did they go?”

She shrugged.

Vivid images of the government housing projects flooded Leonard’s brain.
Of course
. He stood up and gazed out into the distance. Part of the shock had already worn off; he was no longer trembling. “I wonder how far it goes? Looks like miles.”

He glanced back as if expecting a response. His daughter continued to stare at the ground.

A foreboding sense of helplessness engulfed Leonard as he appraised their situation. If the MRI procedure had worked, and that was a rather significant
if
, their transmitters had been disabled and all they had to do was get beyond the various checkpoints that lay ahead. Theoretically, they were untraceable.

But what if they could not get past all the barriers?

What if they were pursued?

Unless they had a good head start, the interstate was a death sentence — large, smooth, and easy to monitor. It might be wise to exit I-70 and find an alternate route. The adjoining highways and numerous mountain towns were likely to have fallen into ruin or been taken over by the military.

What if the car broke down?

What if they ran out of water?

What if they were captured?

The what-ifs painted a story board of frightening scenarios, each one more dismal than its predecessor. In fact, the more Leonard considered this dream of escaping to the promised land of Grand Junction, the more quixotic the idea seemed.

He felt his daughter’s gaze upon his back, and he turned his head. Beautiful Natalia, with gorgeous skin and steel-blue eyes. On the eve of her thirteenth birthday, she expected her Don to hoist her up and whisk her away from the nightmare that was her destiny, battling whatever windmills that stood in their way.

A series of recent memories flashed through Leonard’s mind with a strobe-like intensity.

Natalia’s friend Linda. Her slightly rounded belly and sad eyes.

The smell of sweat and old mops.

A dilapidated motel.

The boy, Dishi, sitting on the floor, blood running from his mouth.

Alina’s ashen face and harsh tone, insistent that he take Natalia and make a run for it.

Why couldn’t you be here now, Alina?

A wave of guilt resurfaced. All those months Alina spent planning and saving gas rations, risking everything by fraternizing with members of the underground…what good had it achieved? Alina would never escape. More than likely, she would eventually face questions about what had happened in that cloistered MRI room in the basement of the Neil Nelson Medical Center. She might end up in prison.

Perhaps if Leonard remained in Denver, nothing would come of their little transgression. Natalia would return to school. Leonard would report to the base on Friday morning and face his fate. Still, maybe Alina would be spared.

Then again, maybe it was already too late.

His eyes locked with those of his innocent daughter, Leonard recalled Alina’s parting words. The final request of a woman who sacrificed herself for their safety.

Please, Leonard…make it count.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

After they had settled back into the car, Leonard and Natalia continued west. It wasn’t long before the Western Gate came into view. Watchtowers, razor wire, and a flurry of activity awaited them in the distance. A series of barriers forced Leonard to move into the furthest right lane. They slowed to a stop as they approached the Gate.

Third in line behind a blue Chevy sedan and a red Tahoe, Leonard and Natalia waited anxiously, the twenty-foot Western Gate looming like a fortress above them. Four watchtowers guarded the barrier, an ominous structure that consisted of two parallel fences approximately two hundred yards apart. Topped with razor wire, the chain link fencing stretched across the gap in the hogback, secured by layers of cement molded into the rugged rocks. In the unused lanes of I-70, car-length cement barriers seriously deterred any driver who might consider deviating from the prescribed course.

In the buffer zone between the gates, a small brick building sat on what once was eastern bound I-70. Armed soldiers, several of whom were partnered with German shepherds, roamed the area between the fences, taking large strides in repetitive patterns.

In addition to massive gates, cylindrical bars blocked the entrance on both sides. They slowly lifted for a few minutes every time a single car was allowed to pass. The process was tediously slow and Leonard wondered how many citizens found a meager day trip worth the bother.

Craning his neck, Leonard inspected the watchtowers. They stood at least forty feet tall. Huge cement blocks formed a base, presumably containing a flight of stairs and perhaps an elevator. The structure on top, a square room with dark windows, could facilitate eight to twenty men for the purpose of observation. On closer examination, Leonard noticed four holes along each of the two walls visible from his viewpoint. The holes were located below the windows and large enough to accommodate a sniper’s rifle.

At that moment, it really hit him. The Gate, the base, tens of thousands of guards and scientists, trillions of dollars in materials and technology — all devoted to the act of imprisoning the very people whose labor made the borders and labs possible. It was surreal, and the absurdity of it crushed Leonard’s spirit.

The Tramer’s car, now second in line, idled impatiently. On the opposite side of the far gate, Leonard saw a queue of a dozen or so cars lined up in what was previously a westbound lane, waiting to return to Denver. Department of Transportation and Safety employees hovered around the front vehicle on both sides of the Western Gate. Leonard tapped his fingers nervously, worried about what he and Natalia might encounter when he pulled the silver Toyota into position number one.

Leonard noticed that the DTS employee talking to the driver in front of him held a portable retina scan device. The driver leaned toward the scanner.
It should be no problem,
Leonard comforted himself. Max’s computer wiz’ had promised to alter the retina scan and fingerprint database by the time they headed for the border.

But what if he failed?

A very young DTS employee measured the gas in the Tahoe’s tank, while a third man walked around the red vehicle and examined the license plate number.

The license plate!
Leonard panicked.
What about the license plate?
Surely Max had also modified the data linked to the car’s registration.
What if he forgot?
It was too late now.

After checking the license plate, the attendant rummaged through the Tahoe’s trunk. Leonard had meticulously secured all the smuggling compartments, but a moment of doubt filled him with dread. If the DTS employee found the compartments, Leonard and his daughter were destined for prison. Glancing briefly at Natalia, he forced a pathetic smile.

A few minutes later, the cylindrical bars on both sides raised and all the gates creaked open, freeing the westbound and eastbound traffic. One car was allowed to pass in either direction. As Leonard pulled up to the front position, the thought of another potential snag caused him to shudder.

Was it possible that the DTS employees could detect a deactivated transmitter? The moment the thought entered his mind, Leonard dismissed it. Even at the DID, most employees did not have access to the WLN’s tracking system. The existence of transmitters was presumably top-secret information. After all, Leonard concluded, widespread knowledge of GPS implants could incite rebellion.

A loud tap on the driver’s side window startled him.

“Dad,” Natalia whispered harshly.

Willing his nerves to settle, Leonard quickly rolled down the window and forced a chuckle. “Sorry about that.”