Pale Horse (A Project Eden Thriller) (24 page)

As they were putting on their shoes and jackets, Martina’s father said, “Stay close to the cabin.”

“We will,” Martina told him.

Night had settled over the mountains, and the snow that had been falling since not long after their arrival had created a blanket of white over the ground at least half a foot thick.

“It’s so quiet,” Riley said.

Martina had noticed it, too. The cover of snow seemed to have absorbed all the sounds of the woods, leaving behind only a peaceful hush.

“Whoa,” Donny said. “This is awesome.”

He started to run out from under the covered porch.

“Hey, hold on,” Martina said. “You can play in it in the morning.”

“Forget that!”

She grabbed the back of his jacket, stopping him. “Donny, if you trip over a rock buried under the snow and break your arm, what do you think Dad’s going to say?”

“I’m not going to break my arm,” he scoffed.

“Ugh,” she said, and let go. “Your funeral if you do.”

He ran out into the snow and promptly fell down, skidding for several feet.

“Woo-hoo!” he yelled, laughing.

“Boys,” Riley said, smirking.

“Brothers,” Martina corrected her.

“Yeah, I don’t have to worry about that.”

“No, just a twin that’s a jerk.”

Riley smiled. “At least she makes me look good.” She pulled a set of keys out of her pocket. “Come on.”

“Hold on. We can’t go anywhere.”

“I know that,” Riley replied as she jogged over to her family’s car. The doors were unlocked, so she got in on the driver’s side and motioned for Martina to get in on the other. As Martina opened the door and slid into the seat, Riley reached into the back and pulled a cloth bag off the floor. She fumbled around inside it for a moment, then pulled out a computer cable. From her pocket she retrieved an iPod, and used the cable to connect it to the radio.

“I downloaded the new Patrolled by Radar album yesterday. Have you listened to it yet?”

Martina had heard of the band, but didn’t know their music. “Not yet.”

“It’s great.”

Riley stuck the key into the ignition, and turned it so that the electrical power came on. As soon as the radio lit up, she reached over to punch the button for the auxiliary input.

“Wait!” Martina said, grabbing her friend’s hand.

Riley looked at her, confused.

“Listen.” Martina turned the volume up.

Static filled the car, but within the pops and snaps there was a voice. It would come in clear for a few seconds, then fade to almost nothing for a few more before cycling up again.

“…homes. So far there…arrests, most in connection with looting at… reiterated the importance of obeying the curfew…said the majority of the people seemed to…have also responded to several reports of gun…five deaths since the president’s speech this morn…listening to the voice of San Francisco on…”

When the voice faded away this time, it didn’t immediately return. Martina’s hand shot to the dial to try to regain the signal, but she couldn’t tune it back in. She moved up the dial, searching for anything.

A signal suddenly came in loud and strong. “…out of Washington confirms that the terror boxes have ceased working around the world. Several of the boxes are now being examined by experts, but no new information is available. The Department of Homeland Security has reiterated the need for all citizens to adhere to the nationwide curfew, reminding those who are thinking about violating it that they will be arrested and detained for the duration of the emergency.”

“Holy shit,” Riley said.

“I’m going to get the others.”

Martina threw open her door and rushed back to the cabin.

“The radio!” she yelled as she entered. “It’s working now!”

“What?”

“How?”

Mr. Weber said something about nighttime atmospheric conditions as everyone in the living room donned their jackets and hurried out to the car. Donny had already joined Riley. The only one missing was Laurie, presumably still pouting in one of the back rooms.

For an hour they crowded around the open car doors and took turns sitting inside as they listened to the news and a replay of the president’s speech. When the newscaster started reading information they’d heard twice already, Martina’s dad reached over and turned the ignition off.

“Dad!” Martina said.

“We’ve heard enough,” he told her. “We should all go in and get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“He’s right,” Mr. Weber said. “Come on, everyone. Let’s go.”

Martina was at the head of the pack, so she was the first to see Laurie standing on the porch near the front door. The girl’s eyes were wide in shock, and she was absently chewing on her lower lip.

“Were you able to hear the reports?” Martina asked.

Laurie gave her an almost nonexistent nod, but her lip remained sucked between her teeth.

“Good thing we came up here, I guess.”

Mrs. Weber walked over and put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Come on, honey. Sleep will do us all some good.”

Laurie allowed herself to be turned and ushered back into the house.

Fifteen minutes later, the lights were out and everyone was lying down—the kids in the living room, and each set of parents taking one of the bedrooms. Try as she might, Martina couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind spun with the possibilities of what the next day might bring.

Several hours later, when she was finally beginning to drift off, she heard someone go outside. A moment later a car door opened, and she could hear the faint muffled sound of the radio.

Her dad, probably, or Mr. Weber.

She was tempted to go join whoever it was, but her eyes closed once more as sleep finally took hold.

She’d been the last awake, except, of course, for the person who’d gone out to the car.

Who was neither her father nor Mr. Weber.

28

THE RANCH, MONTANA

9:08 PM MOUNTAIN STANDARD TIME

M
ATT HAD BEEN
forced to call off the search for Brandon as sundown neared. He couldn’t risk losing anyone else as the cold night took over.

The biggest problem was that there had been no clear indication of which direction Brandon took. The best they could do was split up again and follow the paths Miller thought were the most likely. But as the afternoon wore on and there had still been no signs of the boy, Matt couldn’t help thinking it was more likely that those in the helicopter had taken Brandon.

Once back in the Bunker, he’d gone straight to the control room and had Christina bring him up to speed with what had been happening elsewhere. It turned out that most of Europe and Asia, and several countries in Africa, had jumped on the curfew bandwagon. Pretty soon the whole world would be on lockdown.

Maybe it would be enough,
he thought.
Maybe the virus will be stopped before it can even get started.

But he didn’t really believe that.

“Have there been reports about anyone getting sick?” he asked Christina.

“Not yet.”

Though no one in the control room would say it, they all knew that was odd. During the original Sage Flu outbreak, the time between exposure and first signs of infection was often less than half a day. The containers had started launching the virus into the air a day and a half earlier. There should have been some people already sick. Hell, not just some, but a lot. Even the deaths should have started.

For the first time, he began to wonder if maybe something had gone wrong. Perhaps prolonged exposure to the air had killed the virus. Or perhaps the virus itself had mutated into a nonlethal bug without the Project realizing it.

The president had said that “with the exception of a few minor variations,” it resembled the Sage Flu virus.

Maybe the variations were unanticipated flaws that would cause the Project to fail.

“Matt?”

With a start, he pulled himself out of his thoughts.

Rachel was standing in the doorway to the control room, still looking as if she were single-handedly carrying the weight of humanity on her shoulders.

He walked over. “How are you feeling?”

“Did you find Brandon?” she asked.

He hesitated, then shook his head. “We’ll start up again in the morning.”

“Josie’s been asking about him. I’ve tried to reassure her, but…”

He put a hand on his sister’s arm. “I’ll talk to her.”

As he started to walk out of the room, she touched his back. “I’m…I’m sorry about before.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“I didn’t mean what I said. I was just—”

“Tired? Frustrated? Angry?” He smiled. “I know. And if you need me to say it, you’re forgiven, but you weren’t saying anything the rest of us hadn’t already thought.”

There were thanks in her eyes.

He pulled her into his arms and gave her a hug. “I’d better go find Josie.”

He located her down the hall in the cafeteria, sitting at a table by herself.

“Is it true?” she asked as he sat down.

“Is what true?”

“I heard Mr. Hayes is dead.”

Matt hesitated, then said, “Yeah. I’m afraid it is.”

“And Brandon’s still out there?”

“Yes.”

“So he’s alone?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“If he’s still out there, why did you come back?”

“It’s dark. We could walk right by him and not see him.”

“But you might also find him.”

“Morning will be easier,” he said. “For him, and for us. He’s a smart boy. I’m sure he’s tucked away somewhere safe.”

“You can’t let him stay out there. That’ll be
two
nights!”

“I know you’re concerned. I’m just as worried about him as you—”

She pushed herself up. “No, you’re not! You don’t care! You’re leaving him out there by himself while we’re all safe in here. He’s just a kid!”

Matt felt what energy he had left drain away. “I need my team to get a few hours of sleep at least. Then we’ll go back out.”

“Before the sun comes up,” she said. Not asking—telling.

“Yes, before the sun comes up.”

“All right,” she said, still not looking happy. “Maybe I should come with you. If he hears my voice—”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, Christina’s voice came over the intercom system. “Matt, return to the communications center immediately.”

Josie said, “I could help.”

“You could also get lost, and I’d have to look for two children,” Matt told her.

“Matt,” Christina said over the intercom, “you need to come back now!”

Josie’s brow creased as she narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a child.”

Instead of debating the point, he stood up and said, “You’re staying. If you try to follow us, we
will
turn around and come back. Is that understood?”

He stared at Josie until she nodded, then he hurried back to the communications center.

“What is it?” he asked as he entered the room.

“The jet,” Christina said. “They’ve just called in.”

“Our jet?”

She nodded.

“Where are they?”

“They’re requesting permission to land.”

__________

T
HE FLIGHT SOUTH
to Montana would have taken Ash and the others about six hours if they’d been able to fly direct, but due to a shortage of fuel at Grise Fiord, they’d been forced to make a stop at Baker Lake, the same place they’d landed on the way north.

Even then, it shouldn’t have taken more than an hour to refuel and get back into the air. But it did, due to Implementation Day.

“Permission denied,” the person manning the control tower had radioed back as they neared Baker Lake. “The airport is closed.”

“We have a fuel emergency,” Harlan explained.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to go somewhere else.”

“There’s nowhere else close enough for us to land before we run out!”

This time there was no response.

“Baker Lake? Baker Lake, do you read me?”

Harlan glanced over his shoulder at Ash, who was hunched behind him. “What do you want me to do?”

“Do we have a choice?” Ash asked.

“If we’re lucky, we might be able to make it to one of the outposts along Hudson Bay, but it’ll be a close call.”

“That doesn’t sound like a choice to me. Take her down.”

Harlan nodded. As he and Barry set to work getting the jet onto the ground, Ash returned to the passenger cabin, and grabbed one of the guns before retaking his seat.

Chloe eyed him suspiciously. “Trouble?”

“Same problem we had at Grise Fiord.”

With a nod, she unbuckled her belt and retrieved two guns, giving one to Red before sitting back down.

The landing went as smoothly as always, and as soon as the wheels touched down, Ash returned to the cockpit.

“They’ve been yelling all the way in for us to abort,” Harlan said.

“What did you tell them?”

“Nothing.”

Harlan maneuvered the plane onto the taxiway and headed toward the fueling area.

“We’ve got company,” Barry said.

Sitting across their route were a police car and a small fire truck. Standing in front of the vehicles were several men holding what appeared to be rifles.

Harlan flipped a switch on the dash, and the controller’s voice came over the speaker. “…made an unauthorized landing, and are ordered to immediately take off. Do not open your doors or attempt to leave your aircraft.”

“Tell him we’re—” Ash began.

Harlan raised a hand, stopping him. “I got this.” He activated his radio mic. “All right, if that’s what you want. But I should tell you I’ve only got just enough fuel to get us in the air, which means we’ll be coming back down pretty damn quickly. I’ll probably only have time to bank the plane to make sure it takes out the center of your fine little town.”

There was no reply for several seconds, then, “You are ordered to stay where you are. Do
not
open your doors. If you do, we will shoot.”

“We just need some fuel.”

“Stay where you are. We will contact you with further instructions.”