Omega Plague: Collapse (22 page)

Paola and Aldo took out flashlights and turned them on.

“You walk in front. We’ll be right next to you,” said Paola.

Bruno walked between Paola and Aldo as they stepped down
into the darkness. DeLuca followed on their heels, while Saverio and Stefano
were in the back. The smell of dry dust filled Bruno’s nose. They walked in
silence, almost as if the darkness demanded it. Bruno glanced behind him.
Though already dim, he could just distinguish the rifle carried by Stefano,
pointing towards DeLuca’s back.

After what seemed an age, they reached the dull steel doors.

“Here it is,” said Bruno, his voice sounding too loud in the
dark. He moved past Paola to the panel. Touching the panel, it once again
flared to life. He tucked the flashlight under one armpit, and then put in the
combination.

“You pull anything, and DeLuca dies, then you,” said
Stefano. Ignoring the threat, Bruno heard the sharp buzz of the door’s
mechanism unlocking. Bruno turned back to the group. He had left the doors to
the street open, so there was still some dim glow behind them. But he couldn’t
see anyone’s face.

“This is it.”

Paola responded. “You first, Bruno. We’ll be right behind
you.”

Bruno hoped a bullet wouldn’t be right behind him as well.
Moving toward the door, he shifted the flashlight into his left hand and tugged
on the door with his right. With some effort, the door swung outward. The
darkness in the chamber seemed to creep out into the tunnel.

Bruno walked forward, swinging his flashlight around. He had
the sense of a large space and his light hit the far wall dimly, maybe twenty
meters from the entrance. His boots stirred up dust on the concrete floor, and
the sounds from their steps echoed in the room as the rest of the group
entered.

The beams from their flashlights danced all around the room,
falling on bare concrete walls. Dust whirled around in the dark emptiness.

“There’s nothing here,” said Paola.

“Keep looking. There must be something,” said Bruno. He
swept his flashlight back and forth, hoping that the signal was not an empty
lie, empty like the space before him.

The group moved deeper into the room, their flashlights
probing the darkness.

“I still don’t see anything,” said Saverio.

“Keep looking, for Christ’s sake!” said Bruno.

While looking towards what he thought was the far end of the
room, Bruno heard a grunt and a thud behind him. Swinging around, his
flashlight fell on Stefano towering over DeLuca, who was lying on the floor.
Stefano pointed his rifle at DeLuca’s head.

“I said you were dead!” shouted Stefano.

“Let him up!” Bruno shouted. Light splashed around as Paola
and Saverio aimed their pistols and shined their flashlights at Bruno.

The two flashlights weren’t powerful enough to blind him,
but he squinted as he shouted again. “Let him up! I told you there were no
guarantees!”

“I said that—” started Stefano, then a voice from across the
room cut him off.

“Wait!” cried Aldo from across the dark room. “Over here! I
found something!”

Bruno could see Paola looking at him, but couldn’t see her
eyes as she spoke. “We’re all going to lower our weapons.”

Paola and Saverio lowered their weapons and aimed their
flashlights at the ground. Though pointed down, they illuminated the gloom
enough for Bruno to see Stefano still pointing his rifle at a prostrate DeLuca.

“Sure, we’ll do it your way then, Paola,” said Stefano, his
voice taut. Stefano stepped back and DeLuca scrambled to his feet.

“Look at this!” shouted Aldo across the dark room.

The rest of them made their way over to Aldo’s voice. He
pulled aside a tarp and tossed it to the floor. Their flashlights shone on what
was underneath, illuminating the lines of a motorcycle, with an attached side
car. The motorcycle shielded most of the sidecar from view, as the sidecar
butted up against the stone wall.

“That’s it?” said Stefano. “A motorcycle?”

“Keep going,” said Bruno. “There might be something else
here.”

The group fanned out, beams of light bobbing around. But
after a few minutes they ended up back at the motorcycle.

“What the hell are we going to do with this?” asked Stefano.

Bruno approached the motorcycle, flashlight in hand,
starting at the front and walking toward the back.

“Key’s in the ignition, at least,” he said. “Maybe it still
has fuel.”

Aldo grunted. “Lovely. Maybe we could take turns riding the
scenic road along the coast.”

Bruno ran one hand along the body and moved the flashlight
beam along its length. “I think I recognize the model,” said Bruno. “It’s
unmarked, got a diesel engine.”

Bruno remembered that diesel fuel lasted longer than
gasoline, so he hoped it might still run. He half-mounted the motorcycle and
looked in the sidecar. Shining his flashlight into it, Bruno saw a long barrel.
He grasped it and pulled it out. The group’s flashlights converged on Bruno.

Bruno studied the long lines of the weapon.

“One fucking rifle? That’s all? What can we do with this?”
said Stefano.

Bruno looked closely at the scope on top. The rifle had a
shorter, somewhat “bull-pup” design, not as lean as an M-16. He adjusted the
stock, shorter, longer, then he saw that it folded. A detachable bipod dangled from
near the end of the barrel, making it top-heavy.

“Nice,” Bruno said under his breath. Then he raised his
voice. “I’ve never seen one of these before, but I’ve heard of it. They were
just starting to issue this rifle when everything went to hell. Certain army
units got it first.”

He looked again at the scope mounted along the top of the
rifle.

“Must be a laser scope of some sort,” he said.

The scope was obviously designed to be quickly detached,
judging by the levers at its base. But it seemed unusually large and bulky.
There was an on/off button, and other buttons, black rubber, running flush
along the base.

He pushed the on button and looked in the scope. He had
never seen anything like it. What he saw reminded him of a heads-up display in
a fighter plane. As he looked into it, he remembered an article he'd read on a
military website describing a scope like this. He remembered now reading about
this scope and what it could do. Bruno leaned over and looked in the sidecar,
shining his flashlight. There was an ammo can and a magazine. Bruno turned
toward the group, smiling.

“It’s an ARX-160. And with this scope and enough ammo, maybe
we can start an empire.”

Aldo spoke up first.

“With one rifle? What the hell are we going to do with one
rifle?”

Bruno stuffed the extra magazine in his pants pocket. He
grabbed the ammo can with one hand while he held the rifle.

“Don’t worry, lads,” said Bruno. “It’s empty! Here!”

Bruno handed the rifle to Paola.

Paola took the rifle and Bruno strode through the middle of the
group, walking back toward the entrance.

They stood there in the semi-dark, waiting for some
explanation. Bruno nodded back toward where they had come in.

“Come on. Let me show you what this thing can do.”

Chapter 21

October 7

The sound of a single gunshot broke the morning silence.

The summer, lingering on past its prime, clinging to life
like a sour old man, made Bruno sweat. Bruno wiped his brow with his sleeve and
squinted into the distance, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Good shot, Aldo!” he shouted.

From his position on one knee, Aldo stood and hoisted the
rifle up from the ledge. Bruno stood behind, slightly to Aldo’s right. Far down
the street towards the heart of Sorrento, on the top of another nondescript
apartment building, Bruno could just make out a row of terracotta flower pots
along the roofline. But the line of pots now had a gap. Aldo shielded his eyes
and looked downrange. After admiring his handiwork for a moment, he turned
around, smiling, and handed the rifle to Bruno. Bruno could see a change in
Aldo from when they’d first met. Aldo now had a spark in his eye. He had a
purpose.

The group stood behind Aldo on the roof of the apartment
building where they made their home. Stefano huddled by Saverio and Mauro,
while Paola and DeLuca stood in their own group a little apart from the others.

After making sure the rifle chamber was empty, Bruno glanced
around. The group made quite a sight, ears plugged with random scraps of cloth
dangling along the sides of their heads. Bruno pulled the cloth from his ears
with one hand, and the rest of the group followed his lead.

“Good shot,” he repeated. “I think we’re done. You hit that
pot dead-center!”

Saverio laughed. “He never misses, does he?”

Aldo shook his head, smiling. “Almost never.”

Bruno smiled. “That pot must be over six hundred meters
away.”

“Actually,” answered Aldo, “it was six hundred thirty-four
meters, to be exact.”

Bruno nodded. “The distance calculator is a great feature,
huh?”

“So is the targeting function,” laughed Aldo.

Bruno knelt down on one knee, resting the rifle’s bipod on
the ledge. He aimed the rifle towards the pot next to the one Aldo had
obliterated. He looked in the scope and saw the now-familiar green dot. Then he
pushed the button on the side of the scope with his right thumb. After a second
or so delay, bullet drop compensators with a flashing red dot appeared a little
above and to the right of the pot. Bruno raised the rifle ever so slightly,
matching the green dot over the red. When the dots matched, they blinked on and
off as one. Bruno stood back up, shaking his head as he handed the rifle back
to Aldo.

“Incredible,” Bruno said.

Aldo nodded. “Just activate target designation function, and
move the green dot onto the red dot, then, BANG, it’s over.”

“Well,” said Bruno. “You still have to worry about shooting
fundamentals: breath control, a stable platform, flinching, trigger pull, and
all that.”

“Understood.”

Bruno continued, wanting to make sure they all heard him.
“But you’ve got the best technique of anyone here.” He moved towards the rest
of the group. “And that means that Aldo here should carry the rifle.” Everyone
nodded their agreement. Even Stefano.

“I wonder why they left it there?” said Aldo.

Bruno shrugged. “Who knows? I wouldn’t shoot much farther
than six hundred meters. The bullet is running out of punch by that distance.
And 5.56 mm is not the ideal caliber for a sniper. Maybe the scope belonged on
another rifle. Maybe they meant to come back for it.”

“Good thing they never did.”

Saverio spoke up. “Shall we get off the roof before we fry?”

Stefano looked up at the sky. “Yeah, still feels more like
summer than fall.” Fair-weather clouds drifted in front of the sun, giving them
a moment of shade. Stefano looked down, then looked up at Bruno before he
spoke.

“We hate to see you go.”

Bruno smiled. Quite a change from the belligerence Stefano
displayed not long ago. “We don’t want to go, either. But you know what we’re
trying to do.”

Stefano nodded.

Bruno looked at the group. “It’s time.”

They made their way off the roof through a doorway that led
downstairs to the ground floor of Paola’s lair. Bruno smiled to himself as he
scooped up his backpack along with another from the glass entryway. “Paola’s
lair” is what DeLuca called their hideout. Sounded like the name of some hip
club in Milan. From the ground floor, they made their way back out through the
courtyard, down the steps and to the street. The group spoke in low voices,
talking but saying little. Out of the corner of his eye, Bruno watched Paola
and DeLuca whispering together. DeLuca’s hand rested on her elbow as they
spoke. The way DeLuca moved around Paola told Bruno everything he needed to
know.

They assembled on the cobblestone street just outside the
entrance to the group’s home. The motorcycle from the weapons cache stood
gleaming black in the sun. Bruno loaded up the side car with his gear and
DeLuca, tearing himself away from Paola, did the same. He would have to ride
behind Bruno, since their backpacks took up most of the room in the sidecar.

DeLuca looked at Bruno as he arranged his gear. “Give me a
second.”

“Sure.” Bruno watched as DeLuca moved off up the street a
few meters, just out of earshot of the group, and Paola followed. Bruno stopped
what he was doing and walked over to Saverio, Mauro, Stefano, and Aldo.

Bruno shook hands with each of them, smiling as he did so.
Then he turned to Aldo, clapping him on the arm that held the rifle. Bruno
glanced down as he spoke.

“Watch the ammo, Aldo. Remember, when the bullets run out,
it’s back to clubs and knives.”

Aldo grasped Bruno’s own shoulder in response, his gaze
serious as he spoke. “Thank you for teaching us how to use this.”

“Just watch your fundamentals.”

Bruno pulled the radio out of his jacket pocket and handed
it to Stefano.

Stefano studied the radio for a moment. “I wrote down the
transmission schedule. I’ll turn it on every time like you said.”

“Just make sure you turn it off after ten minutes. Don’t
want to run down the charge,” said Bruno. “We’ll probably have to get on top of
a building to get a signal out, so don’t worry if you don’t hear from us. We’ll
just text—no voice unless we have a serious problem.”

Bruno looked at Stefano’s wrist. “Please tell me you have a
watch.”

“Oh yeah,” laughed Stefano, tugging on his sleeve, revealing
an analog watch. “I’m old-school like you, Bruno.” Stefano looked down at his
watch and shrugged. “No telling how long the battery will last, though.”

“Hopefully long enough for this adventure.” Bruno looked up
at the sky. “Shall we call this 10:00?” The exact time no longer had any
meaning. All that mattered was that they agreed to some arbitrary time so that
they would turn on their radios at the same moment.

“Works for me.”

Bruno looked down. “I wish one of you would come. You know
what this is about. Paola, she doesn’t—”

The group looked at Bruno, then at each other. Mauro spoke
first.

“We want to come,” said Mauro. “But Paola, she . . .”

Saverio chimed in when Mauro faltered. “She thinks what
you’re doing is crazy. And she doesn’t trust you, not after what you told her
you did.”

“We think she’s wrong,” said Stefano. “But we’re alive
because of her judgment. I’m alive because of her, and we can’t just—”

“Right, I get it,” said Bruno, cutting Stefano off. Bruno
realized even in this world, speaking the truth had consequences, and maybe lies
were preferable after all.

“Hey, Bruno!” said DeLuca. Bruno turned and saw DeLuca
sitting on the motorcycle. He seemed oddly eager to leave, but Bruno heard
tension in his voice as he asked, “Are we ready?”

Bruno noticed that Paola still stood apart from the group.
He walked over to her and spoke softly, so only she could hear.

“You know what we’re trying to do. Just let one of them
come. We could use help.”

“DeLuca trusts you. That says something. But I don’t. And
the signal? The blood? Even if you were my son, I’d tell you this is crazy.”

Bruno knew nothing he could say would change her mind, so he
stayed silent while she spoke again.

“I’m trying to keep them safe, Bruno. Not send them on some
stupid chase that might get them killed. Or risk revealing to people who would
kill us that we’re here. And you? You’re reckless, volatile. You don’t give a
goddamn about killing anymore, if you ever did.” She gestured toward the group.
“You see how they are already. Imagine what they might have to do, how much
worse things could be for them if they did go with you. Do you get that?”

Bruno opened his mouth to speak. Part of him wanted to
fight, to justify all of what he’d done so that she would understand. Then he
decided to stop making excuses to himself. He had stopped counting the people
he had killed. And what would she think if she knew all that he had done on
Tiberius’ Leap? To Father Tommaso? To the innocent woman he had killed for just
getting near him? Maybe she was right after all.

“You could at least wish us luck.”

Paola nodded. “Good luck then, Bruno.”

He plodded back to the motorcycle, but he did not get on.
Keeping his back to the group as he spoke, Bruno muttered, “Look, old man, I
think you should stay.”

“Stay?” whispered DeLuca. “No, I’m going with you.”

“But Paola—”

DeLuca did not look over at Paola. “I know, Bruno, I know.
She thinks this is insane. She thinks you . . .” DeLuca’s voice fell into
silence. Then he continued. “You didn’t abandon me, Bruno, and I will never
abandon you.”

Bruno looked down, fiddling with the ignition key on the
motorcycle. He frowned. Then he nodded. Without looking up at DeLuca, Bruno
said, “I hope you won’t regret coming with me.”

DeLuca rested his hand on Bruno’s arm. “Believe me, no
matter what happens, I won’t.”

Bruno nodded. “Let’s go before this gets any harder.”

He mounted the bike, putting on his dark sunglasses as he
settled in. The motorcycle growled to life. With a wave, Bruno shot down the
street. He felt DeLuca’s grip around his waist tighten as they sped off.

Bruno did not look back, but he wondered if DeLuca did.