The Enclave (66 page)
Nausea swirled in Cam’s belly. “Have you no conscience at all?”
She continued on with a shrug. “Very little. The explosives were
my
idea.”
He watched her cross the roof, then turned his gaze to the foothills beyond the campus bowl. The lay of the land had changed significantly—a crooked dip in a formerly straight ridgeline, sinkholes and newly formed valleys, and sharp, vertical displacements of earth lay everywhere. Even part of the bowl had collapsed, leaving one of the warehouses slumped to one side. People would believe the earthquake story. Gen would pull it off. And why not? She’ d spent a lifetime learning how to manipulate the truth from a master. Still, it wasn’t right.
Do not be deceived, God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows,
this he will also reap.
He snorted softly.
Okay, then, I’ll leave it in your hands, Lord. Your
retribution will be far more effective than anything I can do. And who
knows? She might even believe in you yet.
The woman had a boatload of guilt to carry around with her now, and just because she sought to deny it wouldn’t make it any lighter. As Cam knew as well as anyone. . . .
Suddenly bone tired, he picked up the sword, slid it back into the scabbard, then found his shoes and retrieved the sniper rifle and the duffle bag. His phone and the small computer were both inside the bag, carrying numerous pictures of the Enclave as well as the files he’ d downloaded of the floor plans. Evidence. But not enough. Besides, as he knew all too well, digital records could be faked. Without someone to back up his story, who would believe him?
He put the sword back with its armor, then went down to the first floor, where people were already sweeping up the broken glass. The dead and injured had all been carried off to the clinic, and seeing as no one was paying him the least bit of attention, Cam decided that if Gen wanted to cover things up, he’ d oblige her by making sure there were no loose ends.
Descending once more to the red sector lab, he mined it with the C-4 still in his duffle, then brought Rudy’s body back up with him, stripped of its combat gear. As he stepped out of the express elevator, he pressed the wireless detonator. Moments later, the floor trembled beneath him. An aftershock, he thought grimly. One that would undoubtedly destroy the garage in which most of the campus vans were parked.
He brought Rudy’s body to the makeshift morgue at the clinic, covered it with a sheet, then called the number he’ d been given to contact the field HQ in the Game and Fish trailers west of the Institute. Brianna answered, and when he told her Rudy was dead and someone needed to retrieve the body, his words were met with a very long silence. When she finally spoke, her voice was choked. “We’ll be right over.”
She came with two of her team, bringing a body bag, a stretcher, and “Mallory’s” dusty blue Volvo, whose keys she handed to Cam. He stayed with them until they left, then went up to his fifth-floor office to revise the date on his resignation letter and print it out. Sealing it in an envelope, he took it with him to his apartment. There he shaved and showered and packed his things, all the while trying desperately not to think about Lacey, a feat that increased in difficulty the longer he went without hearing from her. Still, he clung to the delusion that Rudy had gotten her away, telling himself she’ d been sent on to Phoenix after the rescue, and was just waiting for his call. He’ d make it as soon as he got the number from Brianna.
On some level he knew he was being utterly irrational, but he wouldn’t let himself think about that, either, because thinking in rational terms would lead him to a place he did not want to go.
He was standing over the duffle bag, going through its contents before he returned it to Brianna, and had just finished erasing the memories of both his BlackBerry and the tiny computer and keyboard when the BlackBerry rang. Shocked, he stared at it for a moment, wondering who would be calling him with Rudy dead; then he realized it must be Brianna and answered it.
“Cameron?” asked a familiar voice.
Suddenly his ears roared and his knees wouldn’t hold him up. He sagged onto the bed. “Lacey?”
“You’re alive! Oh, thank God,” she cried, hysteria raising the pitch of her voice. “I thought for sure you were dead. When the tunnel collapsed—”
“Where are you?” he asked, his voice stronger now, his heart hammering against his breastbone.
“I didn’t know where to go. I’ve got Zowan and Terra with me. Well, not exactly with me, but I don’t know who to trust, so it’s hard . . .”
“Lacey! Where
are
you?”
“I’m in the Madrona Lounge—”
“I’ll be right there,” he said, and cutting her off, he threw the phone and his resignation letter into the duffle bag, grabbed it and his suitcase and backpack, and took the service elevator down to the main floor. There he burst out of the car only to stop dead at the sight of her. She stood at the mouth of the elevator lobby, wearing her own jeans and top, turning toward him now at the rumble of the doors opening. Her face was white as a sheet, though her eyes and nose were red as if from weeping. He let his bags fall to the floor, crossed the space between them, and swept her into his arms.
Her emotional control shattered as she clung to him and wept. “I thought you were dead,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “Mr. Mallory’s team went down after you, and then Swain blew the tunnel. . . .” He held her close as she told him of the cave-ins and the massacre Swain had perpetrated on the Edenites, and how they’d been left for dead, but Zowan had led them out through the passages behind the Star Garden. It had taken them all afternoon to reach the campus proper, because they were terrified one of the security patrols would find them and finish the job Swain had started. She’ d left the clones in a warehouse out by the Vault. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did good,” he told her, releasing her to take her by the shoulders and look into her eyes. “You couldn’t have done better. Come on.” He steered her toward the stairwell. “I’ve got a car again, so let’s go get them.”
As they drove around the outer service road, he told her some of his side of the story, including what Gen was doing to cover everything up. She was indignant at the notion of just letting her get away with it but saw the futility of any other route once he’ d laid it out. “Our priority now is to get those kids out of here,” he said. “My friends should be able to work up some official identities for them, social security numbers, birth certificates, that sort of thing. We don’t have to say they’re clones, either, just children of the cult members. Who’s ever really going to know?”
She accepted his reasoning without comment and they fell into silence for a bit. Then she asked timidly, “And what about us?”
“I’ve got my resignation letter in the duffle back there and a bit of money saved up. I think I’ll head up north to visit my parents and my brother for a while. After that, I don’t know.” He pulled in at the warehouse she’ d indicated, switched off the engine, and looked over at her. “I’m pretty much waiting for the Lord to show me what He wants me to do next, and I have no idea what that will be.” He gave her a half smile. “But you’re welcome to come with me, if you want.”
Her lovely eyes widened. “Come with you? You just said you don’t know what you’re going to do.”
“That’s true. But my parents would love to entertain us. They have a beautiful big house up in Cottonwood, lots of wooded land to walk through, a stream, horses to ride, trails to bicycle on. It would be a time to get away and take stock, figure out your next step.”
“We barely know each other.”
“Well, we could remedy that there, too.”
She looked suddenly stricken, her eyes welling with tears. “I thought I would never see you again—that God had brought you into my life just long enough for me to fall in love with you, only to snatch you away forever. I swore after Erik I would never be impulsive again, but now here you are, asking me to go away with you. . . .” She fell silent, the tears glistening on her lashes.
He shifted around on the seat toward her, touched her cheek with the back of his fingers, then leaned forward and kissed her. It was a hundred times sweeter for having almost lost her. Her hand came up to press against the back of his neck, and he felt the same fire ignite in him as he had in the gardens.
Finally, reluctantly, he pulled his mouth from hers, then touched his forehead against hers. “Can I take that as a yes, then?”
She giggled. “I suppose so.”
A flash of movement by the warehouse door caught his attention, and he glanced around. “Hmm. Looks like Zowan’s getting impatient. I guess we better go over there and fetch them.”
KAREN HANCOCK has won Christy Awards for each of her first four novels—
Arena
and the first three books in the Legends of the Guardian-King series,
The Light of Eidon, The Shadow Within
, and
Shadow Over Kiriath
. She graduated from the University of Arizona with a bachelor’s degree in biology and wildlife biology. Along with writing, she is a semi-professional watercolorist and has exhibited her work in a number of national juried shows. She and her family reside in Arizona.
For discussion and further information, Karen invites you to visit her Web site at
www.kmhancock.com
.
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