The Fury and the Terror (65 page)

"There's five of us," Carlisle said. He had become part of the team, and now he felt called upon to make a contribution. "We could split up, each take a section of the lots and the decks. What about the police?"

Alex was carrying the dummy device in its case. "Leave them out of this. Too much to explain. No time."

"I need Alex with me," Eden said. She nodded toward the case. "And that. The rest of you—" She couldn't stop a jet of tears. "Get back in Carlisle's boat. Clear out of here. Tom, you should be in the hospital. Alex and I—we can do this."

"Not a chance," Bertie said. "Alex is right, no time. Carlisle, where's your flashlight?" He held up a three-battery steel Maglite. "Good. You take the lot over there. If you find the truck first, climb on the roof and signal. Three short flashes. Tom and I will take the other lot. Alex and Eden—"

"Let's go," Eden said.

O
n the first floor of the parking decks Alex said, "Up or down?" Eden was silent for a few moments, then pushed the elevator button for the roof.

"Start at the top."

Garth Brooks was singing "Ain't Goin' Down 'Til the Sun Comes Up."

The concrete and steel decks seemed to be vibrating slightly from the power of his amps.

In the slow elevator Eden rubbed her temples and fidgeted.

Alex said, "You have a boyfriend?"

"Not anymore."

"Maybe you and me, then."

"Oh, great, Alex, is that all you have on your mind right now?"

"Better than the alternative," he said with a shrug.

They stepped off the elevator onto the roof under sodium vapor lights.

The stadium was rocking. Eden closed her eyes briefly, turning her head slowly.

"Better start looking," Alex advised.

"I am. Shut up. Please."

She was rubbing the thumb of her right hand back and forth over her fingertips. Then her head nodded forward.

Alex took out a pack of cigarettes. Eden straightened and opened her eyes.

"Don't smoke, it'll mess me up."

"I thought you were falling asleep."

"It's not up here. Let's go down."

They took the stairs to the next level. There was wild cheering from the stadium.

Eden repeated the exercise she had begun on the roof. Results negative.

"Maybe," Alex said, "they changed trucks somewhere. Then how could you know what you are looking for? Or they might have dropped the device into a trash can."

"It would leave a signature. What do you want from me, Alex?"

"You are already an angel. Me,I would have some explaining to do if I go boom tonight."

Eden was already out the door and down the steps to the next level.

Alex took a deep breath, decided to smoke after all. Probably they were doomed. He thought about Eden, and shrugged again. Too bad they couldn't die while making love. American bitches, too many hang-ups

"
Alexxx!
"

He banged a shin with the metal case getting down the steps to the level below. When he opened the door he didn't see her.

"Where are you?"

"Over here!" Her voice reverberated; he couldn't tell where it was coming from.

"That's no help!" he shouted.

"We're on the blue level and, uh, section G. To your left from the stairs." Alex hobbled in that direction with his case.

The red club cab pickup had been parked at an angle in a corner of the deck, facing the river and the lights of Nashville on the other side. Eden was looking at the left front fender, but she didn't touch it. She glanced at him, pointed.

"Scraped. And the parking light is broken." She was going through her pockets. "Now what did I do with that piece of—"

"Never mind, if you are sure." Alex set the titanium case down. The bed of the deluxe pickup had a removable metal cover that matched the rest of the truck for a streamlined effect. There was a key-entry lock.

Alex took a folder of tools and a small flashlight from his jacket pocket. He selected a lock pick. His hand was trembling. He leaned against the back of the truck and there was a crackling sound, a blue flash. Alex was thrown back five feet to the concrete floor. His eyes were closed but the lids twitched. He didn't make a sound.

"Alex!" Eden knelt beside him. Was he breathing? She put a hand to her damp forehead, looked up at numerals on a post with a blue stripe.

Bertie. Get here fast.

She didn't waste time trying to find a pulse. She put the heel of her right hand on the lower third of Alex's sternum, covered it with her left, the approved position for CPR. She began to rapidly compress Alex's chest. Five compressions, pause to ventilate, resume compression. So they'd booby-trapped the truck before abandoning it. She settled into the routine of CPR, sweat stinging her eyes.
I'm yours, Alex; you want me, I'm yours. Just breathe, God damn it!

Eden couldn't have said how long she'd been working on Alex when she heard the stairwell door bang open, heard running footsteps.

"Bertie!"

Her shoulders ached as she continued the routine of trying to bring Alex around, glanced up as Bertie arrived.

"What happened?"

"Don't touch the truck. Electrified."

Alex suddenly trembled under her hands, gasped, and retched. Bertie reached down and moved his head to one side so he wouldn't aspirate his vomit.

Eden sat up and wiped her face. "Where's Tom and Carlisle?"

"Coming. Alex? Hey, Alex! Do you hear me?"

"Huh."

Bertie helped him sit up.

"Thirsty. Where am I?"

"Truck zapped you," Eden said.

"Headache," he complained.

"I just got your heart started; you'll have to deal with the headache yourself."

They propped Alex against a pillar and conferred.

"Is the device in the truck?" Bertie asked.

"I'm sure of it. But there's an electrical field in my way. A shield. I can't break through to find the device."

"What if I could, you know, push that shield out of your way? Hold it back for a little while?"

"But if you let it slip—"

"I know. The shield will bounce your
chi
straight back at you, and you'll wind up on the deck like Alex. Or worse."

"Gotta do it. Alex! Need your help."

They heard the elevator door.

Eden said, "I hope that's Tom. Stadium will be emptying out any minute now. Once this building fills up with people getting their cars, there'll be so much noise neither one of us can function."

"Right back," Bertie said, and she sprinted in the direction of the elevator.

"What do you want, honey? Alex doesn't feel good."

"I know. I'm sorry. But you have to get the duplicate device up and running for me. Can you manage that?"

"Sure. No problem."

"Set the timer, let's make it four minutes from now."

"Timer, sure." Alex opened the titanium case and took out the yellow carrier bag with the dummy nuke inside. He was fumbling, bleary-eyed.

"What do you do then, honey?"

"I follow my usual procedure for disarming nuclear bombs."

"Bravo. Did I tell you I want you to be my woman?"

"Yes, Alex. Stop staring at me and set the damn timer."

Bertie came running back.

"Carlisle says Brooks is halfway through his encore number, and he only does one. He and Tom will try to keep people off this floor, by virture of the absolute authority invested in Carlisle through the Wildlife Resources Agency."

Eden grinned tautly. "Let's do this."

Bertie faced the red truck. She extended her hands, not quite touching metal. Then she placed her steepled hands against her face, bowed her head slightly as if in prayer. She trembled.

"Ready," she said to Eden. "Say when."

Eden said, "Alex?"

"One little jiffy. Okay ... timer is set. Four minutes and counting. So what?"

Eden ignored him. "Go, Bertie," she said softly.

Bertie made an incomprehensible sound. She appeared to be straining forward, under excruciating tension. The planes of her face glistened, and it seemed as if every bone in her skull were aglow beneath the stretched skin.

"
Yeah!
" she screamed.

Eden saw the high-energy field around the truck. A writhing, pulsating entity. She was afraid of it. But she had to channel her own force, slip through that net of enormous power into the neutral zone Bertie was providing at huge cost to herself.

"How do you
do
that?" Alex said. His hair was standing on end. He backed away as if he were looking at Death Itself.

Eden probed, was pushed back.
Afraid, afraid
. Ten days ago all she'd been thinking about was getting her diploma. Bertie moaned sorrowfully, holding on, keeping the gap in the field open. Couldn't let Bertie down, even if it meant the destruction of her own mind.

She heard it ticking. Backseat of the club cab. She pressed closer. There it was. A twin of the other device, with one lethal exception.

Just a little more time, Bertie.

Mentally Eden pounced on the dummy device outside the truck. The timer read two minutes fifty-eight seconds.

Inside the stadium Garth Brooks yelled, "Good night, Nashville!" Good night, Nashville. Show's over. Except, perhaps, for the fireworks. Eden stopped the timer on the dummy at two minutes forty-nine seconds. Easy when you know how. You look up into a clear sky, see a plane that isn't there, but know it's coming and when it does it will crash.

Couldn't stop the DC-10 in midair. But a little old digital clock, that was a cinch. She was the fuckin' Avatar, was she not?

Feeling bold and skillful, Eden probed the cab of the truck again.

I'm slipping
, Bertie said faintly in Eden's mind.

Almost done
. Easy when you know how. Except she didn't. She just kind of interfered with the mechanism in some way, by wanting to. Figure it out later. Just do the other timer, stop it cold, get Bertie off the hook.

It didn't work this time.

Whoops.

What's wrong?

Shit.

Again, again!

Not working.

"Alex! I can't ... it won't shut off like the other timer!"

The stadium was beginning to empty out. A couple of thousand people would be coming for their cars.

Please, Eden
, Bertie said in her mind.

"How much time?" Alex's voice. "There must be a fail-safe. I would have to see it to know exactly what they have done."

How much time?
This, urgently, from Bertie.

An hour. But if I pull out now I won't get back to it!

Eden, I'm almost done. Can't hold the shield. Get away!

No! I've got to do this!

Whatever you're going to do . . . do it now!

Eden stared at the bomb on the backseat of the truck. The timer that refused to stop. Fifty-nine minutes. No immediate jeopardy. But it didn't matter. She couldn't do anything. It seemed to Eden that her body and mind had locked up. That hadn't happened to her since she was in the sixth grade. On the line with seconds left to play, but she couldn't shoot her free throw. On the line now but that long-ago game, and this game, all the games were over. She'd failed the world this time, not just a handful of teammates.

Then she felt as if steel fingers were sinking into her jammed, frozen mind. The fingers dug in and yanked her back through the gap in the shield an instant before it closed in a zigzag of brilliant blinding energy.

For a few moments she was out of touch with her body, senses depleted, adrift, a poor naked soul in a bright void.

She felt a slap, her head was rocked, she opened her eyes and perceived

Bertie's glistening face inches from hers.

"WHATINTHEHELL were you waiting for!?"

"I couldn't . . . I . . . sweet Jesus! I've really fucked up. It's going to blow!"

"The device?" Alex said with his infuriating smirk. He was on one knee wrestling the dummy nuke back into the carrier bag.

"Yes!" Eden screamed at him. "The nuclear goddamn bomb! The bomb in the truck we spent all day trying—"

Bertie pressed a hand across her mouth. "Hey, not so loud. Just calm down. Okay? No more yelling."

Eden's heart was pounding like a sledge against the chest wall. She blinked at Bertie, showering a few tears over the hand that sealed her mouth.

Bertie moved her hand and stroked Eden's wet forehead. Eden crept tremblingly into her arms. Bertie held her, rocked her gently, smiled.