Killswitch (13 page)

Chase shifted his eyes from one long table to the next. No Mel.

“Well, the power…I was…” He found his mother and sat beside her. “I'm sorry about the lock. I needed a couple of laserlights. It was an emergency. As for the chocolate, I was just trying to be nice. The girl was hungry. I'm sorry. I didn't have enough for everybody.”

His mom patted him on the back.

Windsong spoke from the far end of the table. “Look, I'm sure this was all about getting me to my plane.” She leaned toward Chase. “Am I right?”

“Yeah. Everything but the chocolate. That just sort of worked its way into the evening.”

“Well, I
do
have enough for everybody. Assuming no one has searched through every crate on my plane. If it's still there, I'll make sure you get it.” She glanced around the room. “It'll be my thanks for helping me.”

Several young people, and a few not so young, let out a whoop. Chase got up from the table and headed for the door. Switchblade's obnoxious presence was missing and Chase knew where to find him.

“Sit down and eat,” Amos demanded.

Chase slinked back to the table and dropped next to his mother. “Have you seen Mel this morning?”

“She may have had to wait in line for a shower. I'm sure she'll be here soon.”

He grabbed a chunk of meat and stuffed it in his mouth. Then he gulped a cup of watered-down orange juice. “I've got to talk to her.” He joined Amos. Bending over, Chase said, “I will tell you all about the power outage. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

“Meet me in my room,” Amos said. The man didn't look up, but ripped a piece of bread in half and dropped it onto his plate.

“Yes, sir.” Chase rose and headed for the dorms. He got to Mel's room, found the door propped open, and knew what it meant. Leaning against the wall, he listened.

“He was always full of himself,” Mel said. “Do you think he's capable of changing?

“He can't help being who he is,” Switchblade said. “Only God can change him. But it's no sure thing. Maybe it ain't meant to be.”

Chase couldn't stand there and listen to this. Not because it hurt him, which it did. But because it was private. He wouldn't do that to Mel.

Amos wouldn't be back to his room yet. Chase went to the command center and checked the systems to make sure there was nothing amiss after last night's strange turn. He sat at a station and sparked the exoself to run through the orders for the drones. Everything seemed to be on schedule. No indication the Feds were on to him. He'd have to go over the plan with Windsong, and they both needed to get some extra sleep today.

“I can't go. Not until I apologize to Melody.”

“Apologize for what?”

Chase turned around to find Amos.

“I said something stupid. I can come to your room now and take my reprimand.”

“Looks pretty quiet in here.” Amos pulled a chair to the station. “Did you break that lock with your bare hands?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Why do you need to lock up things anyway? Who don't you trust?”

“It's not a matter of trust. People take things and then forget to put them back. Locking the closet keeps things from accidentally disappearing.” Amos settled into his seat. “Never mind that. Start talking.”

Chase explained the reason for the temporary outage, and how he planned to get the drones off the runway and get the plane to land there. And how he needed to accompany Windsong to the plant.

“You'll take Switch. I won't have you hiking from here to the plant and back on your own.”

“Isn't there someone else?”

“No one who can protect you like
he
can.”

Chase leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “I can protect myself.”

“You are not going up unless he goes too.”

“Fine. I'll do it your way.” Chase leaned back in the chair. “Amos, there's something else we need to talk about.”

“About Melody. Do you love her?”

Chase lifted his eyebrows. How juvenile. He didn't blush, did he? “That's not at all what I wanted to talk about.”

“What then?”

“The scientists put something in me. I wanted to have Mel and Molly with me when I told you about it, but we keep running into situations.”

“What did they put in you, son?”

“A Wilberton. Do you know what that means?”

Amos seemed to shrink into the chair. He closed his eyes. “You know I'm sick. Is that it?”

“And you already know.”

“I've known for a while. But it's getting worse.”

“Is there not one single doctor down here? What do you do when someone gets sick?”

“We pray.”

“There's a baby coming. What are you going to do about that?”

“It's her fourth. She and her husband will manage. Unless the exoself knows something about childbirth.” Amos grinned.

“Guess she didn't need a permit to produce four babies in the underground. Up top, nobody gets more than two anymore.” Chase shook his head. “As far as the fundamentals of childbirth, the exoself knows nothing about that. And I'm not getting a cyber-education on it.”

“What exactly is your ability? You can diagnose, but you can't cure?”

“That's about it. I could learn more about leukemia, but I don't have access to treatment. It's a worthless thing they put in me.”

“So that's it—leukemia. My mother died from it.”

“I want to try to get you to a doctor. My connection to the underground tells me there's one in Gagnon. It's so close. We could get him here to help you, or take you there.”

“I know about the doctor. It's not worth the risk. Besides, I don't think seeing him will make any difference in the long run. Do you?”

What was he supposed to say? He put both hands on the man's arm.

Amos let out a soft laugh.

“What's so funny?”

“You're laying hands on me. Like Jesus sometimes did when he healed. Even in modern times, an elder or a pastor might practice the laying on of hands.”

“I don't understand, which is no big surprise,” Chase said. “But maybe your resident pastors should try it.”

“Oh, son, I don't know about that. Miracles in this day and age are rare. Unexpected. Belief for most of the people here means little more than escaping the evil forces taking over the world and then just trying to survive.”

Chase released his grasp. “The disease has progressed in the short time I've been here.”

“I must prepare someone to take over for me,” Amos said. “Tomorrow. Today we have too much to do.” He smiled. “Chase, I don't understand why your knowledge of our belief is so limited. You have access to…everything. Don't you?”

“You've been underground for a while. Up top, the authorities don't allow too much in cyber-space about religion anymore. And they certainly didn't allow it in
my
systems. What Mel snuck in was cryptic and only led to the revelation of computer code. Anything more than that would have been discovered by the programmers. She thinks she might be able to upload the Bible now that the exoself is independent of the WR. I told her not to bother. I don't know what good it would be if I don't understand it.” He crossed his arms. “My father…”

“What is it, Chase?”

“I had these dreams before I set out on my own. In one of them, my father—my dead father—told me the people in the underground would tell me what I needed to know. But so far—”

Switchblade barged in on the private moment and shouted, “We got trouble!”

22

Chase sparked his systems to search local and federal intel. Why wasn't the exoself aware of a problem before Switchblade? No indication of trouble. “What's wrong?” he asked.

“Noise is what's wrong,” Switchblade answered.

Chase powered the hearing enhancer. “Sounds like a demolition crew in the museum.”

“You think?” Switchblade hovered over him. “Man, why don't you just keep that super power stuff on?”

“Because people deserve their privacy down here. I don't need to listen to
everything
.”

Amos moved to another computer station. “Chase, is there no information about what could be happening up there?”

“Intel on the museum is sketchy. It's owned by—”

“Gretel Neroux,” Amos said. “The granddaughter of the artist who painted Blue Sky Field. She's a supporter. Lives in France. She knows we're here.”

Chase searched the EU for anything regarding the woman. In a moment he had what he was looking for. “She was arrested.” He walked toward Amos. “She died in prison a week ago.”

Switchblade was right behind him. “Did she squeal?”

“I don't know. But why else would they be bulldozing the place?” Chase raised his head as the sound grew so loud he didn't need the hearing enhancer. Mel rushed into the room, along with a slew of residents with panicked expressions.

Amos put his hands over his face, then banged his fist on the metal table. “How are we going to survive if they knock the building down? We'll be buried alive.”

Windsong joined the crowd, her backpack slung over her shoulder. “I'm out of here. Now,” she said.

“Too late,” Switchblade told her.

Chase pulled the code for secret houses—23-6. No indication that their location had been compromised. The underground branch closest to Gretel Neroux's address had reported they'd lost an up-top supporter, but no details were given.

He went back in to the EU cyber systems and found the documentation of real property owned in the WR. The museum, upon the death of the owner, would be repurposed by the government. A common practice on both continents. The museum was now owned by the government. By the enemy.

Pulling records from the Federal Building Department, Chase soon found a requisition to turn the abandoned building into a WR office heading a particular branch of an international program for all of the Northeast territory.

“They're not going to knock it down,” he said. “They're turning it into a RACE headquarters. They don't know there's a bunker underneath them. The artists who made themselves a shelter from the apocalypse did a good job of keeping it quiet.”

Erin wrinkled her brow. “What does that mean, Miss Melody?”

“R-A-C-E. Religions and Cults Eradicated,” Mel answered. “The global organization oversees reprogramming society to phase out all religious belief. Unbelievable. The international headquarters of the Underground Church is now underneath the international organization established to wipe us out.”

Mel lifted her eyes to Chase. And her expression was all business. She hadn't gotten over whatever it was that made her so mad last night.

“And they have no idea we're down here?” A voice called out.

“As far as I can tell, they don't know about us,” he said.

“Son, are they going to block our exit?” his mother asked. “Do you think they'll find their way into the room with the paintings?”

“If they go exploring, it's a possibility.”

Amos rose and addressed the people. “No one goes out. No one comes in. We'll cut back on rations. And everyone, please, be very quiet. Go and tell those who aren't here with us.”

The people headed out to follow their leader's instructions. Windsong waited, arms crossed. “I
am
leaving. If not right this minute, then after dark as planned. The workers will be gone and the drones are still scheduled to do their disappearing act.” She stared at Chase. “Right? None of this alters our plans.”

Chase turned to Amos. “Well?”

The man shook his head and dropped his gaze to the ground. “How much can we endure?” He looked up. “How much?” he yelled. He pulled a chair behind him and sat down.

Chase sat beside him. “Whatever you say, I will do. But I think it'll be all right.”

With a worn expression and bloodshot eyes, Amos seemed to grin. Just a little. “Where sin abounds, grace abounds more.”

“Let me guess—from the Bible?”

“Don't you see? God has put our most dangerous enemy right over our heads. And they don't even know. God will protect us. I know He will. And I know something else.”

“What is it?” Chase asked.

“He has a sense of humor.” Amos smiled.

Chase returned the smile. “So, we're good to go tonight?”

“I suppose. But you
will
come back. We need your help now more than ever.”

“The exoself has loaded nearly all of Mel's programs into the supercomputer. I need to run some tests and then you'll be all set. The underground is connected worldwide.” Chase put his hand on Amos's shoulder.

He repeated his demand. “But you
will
come back.”

“I wouldn't dream of missing this. It's a strange world you people have here. And it just got stranger. But for now, this is where I belong.”

23

The team of three—Chase, Switchblade, and Windsong—spent the afternoon planning a midnight trip through the countryside to a landing strip, where hundreds of drones would be replaced by one recently confiscated jet. At least that was the plan.

Switchblade wanted to know if the plane could land itself on the short runway.

“I've landed it in tighter spots,” Windsong told him.

“But you won't be doing the landing,” Switchblade said. “Nobody will. The big old dinosaur of a jet's gonna be landed by a robot.”

“It'll be all right,” Chase said. “Once the plane is in the air, I'll take over the programming. Landing will be the easy part.”

Windsong sighed. “What's the hard part?”

“The rest of it is the hard part,” Chase answered. “The drones should start their mass evacuation in an hour. It'll be four hours before they're all gone. The plane will arrive half an hour after that. We need to be in place when it gets there.”