The Furies (35 page)

It was a big building, almost as long as a football field, with a high slanted roof and a raised concrete floor. Running along one whole side of the building was an enormous loading dock where trucks could back up to the raised floor and take on cargo through their rear doors. Judging from the detritus on the floor—discarded boxes, scraps of paper and so on—John guessed that the warehouse had been buzzing with activity not so long ago, but now the great majority of the Furies had departed and only three medium-size trucks were still parked at the dock. The guardsmen who'd come up the stairs just a minute ago had already been assigned a new task, loading the last crates and trunks and boxes onto the waiting trucks. At the center of the warehouse a dozen men and women sat behind a long receiving desk, staring at computer screens and shouting into portable radios. Because they were all dressed in modern clothes—jeans, sneakers, polo shirts, and so on—John assumed they were the Rangers who ran the trucking firm. They were probably monitoring the status of the trucks that had just left. All three of the Elders also sat behind the desk, giving orders and glancing nervously at the screens. Their bailiff, Old Sam, stood dutifully beside them.

One of the Rangers, a tall, slender woman wearing jeans and a backpack, rushed over to John and Ariel and helped them find a place for Gower to lie down. She ripped off his filthy shirt and started to clean his shoulder wound, using sponges and herbal medicines from her pack. Ariel took a moment to check the contents of her own backpack, removing the medicine case and opening it to see if any of the vials of Fountain had been damaged. Then, satisfied that everything was all right, she slung the pack over her shoulder and examined John's back. “You're injured, too. Shrapnel.” She looked him in the eye. “You don't feel any pain?”

“Not really,” he said, although his wounds
were
starting to hurt now that the danger was past and his adrenaline had subsided. “Well, maybe a little.”

Ariel turned to the Ranger medic kneeling beside Gower. “When you're done with the guardsman, treat this man, too.”

By that point the Chief Elder had noticed their presence. Elizabeth Fury stepped away from the receiving desk and came toward them, looking Ariel up and down. She bit her lower lip, and for a moment her expression was the same as the one her daughter always wore when she was worried or frightened. But then Elizabeth's face hardened and she narrowed her lone eye. “Where's Conroy?” she asked.

Ariel shook her head. Bits of dirt fell from her hair and sprinkled on the floor. “He saved us all. The Riflemen were right behind us, but he held them off until we could escape the cavern. Then he triggered the explosives. I've never seen a braver end.”

The Chief Elder had no reaction. She was good at hiding things, John realized. He waited for Ariel to deliver Conroy's message, but she didn't. Instead, she just stared at her mother. Elizabeth stared back. “Is Sullivan dead, too?”

“Nay, I don't think so. None of us saw him. The cur was too cowardly to take part in the attack. Right now he's probably surveying the ruins of the farm and wondering if we committed mass suicide.”

Elizabeth frowned. “He knows us too well to take that idea seriously. He'll start looking for us soon. Fortunately, most of our people have already crossed the border.” She nodded at the Rangers working the portable radios. “We're still waiting to hear from two trucks that haven't reached Sault Sainte Marie yet, but the rest are in Canada now.”

“And will we go there too?”

“Cordelia will go to Canada to supervise the holding phase. Nearly everyone in the family will disperse across the provinces and find temporary lodgings—rented cabins, hotels, and so on. But you and I and Margaret will go south with the surviving guardsmen.”

“South?”

“Aye, we need to prepare our new home. We'll secure the area, then stockpile a sufficient quantity of food, enough for two years. We'll also need to build a power plant.” Elizabeth seemed remarkably confident, especially considering the current circumstances. Her faith in her plans was unshakable. “Then our cousins can leave Canada and join us. Not all at once, of course. It may take several months to complete the relocation.”

“You're not talking about the southern United States, I presume?”

“Nay, that would be too risky. We have to go into the wilderness again, Lily.”

“A wilderness to the south?” Ariel raised an eyebrow. “Are you speaking of South America then? The Amazon basin?”

“Don't be impatient, child.” She gave her daughter a scolding look. “I'll tell you the location when the time is ripe.”

“Mother, I know more about the Amazon than you do. You've never even been there. You should—”

“Enough.” She raised her hand, cutting off discussion. Then she pointed at one of the trucks parked in the loading dock. “You and your paramour will travel in that vehicle. The guardsmen have already loaded your trunk inside. Margaret and I will ride in another truck.”

Ariel grimaced. With a frustrated growl, she marched toward the back of the truck and entered its cargo hold. John wanted to follow her, but at that moment the tall medic stepped behind him, lifted his shirt and began tweezering the bits of shrapnel out of his back. The Fountain protein, which had shielded him from so much pain until now, had apparently washed out of his system, and the medic's attentions hurt like hell. And as he stood there, wincing, the Chief Elder gave him a look of contempt. She didn't say a word. She had no interest in talking with him. She just wanted him to know how much she despised him. Once she made her point clear, she turned around and headed back to the team of Rangers.

At least the medic was quick. She soon pulled the last pieces of metal from his skin, sponged away the dried blood, and applied a soothing paste that felt absolutely wonderful. Then he heard an angry cry coming from inside the truck. A second later Ariel stormed out of the cargo hold and stomped toward the receiving desk, heading straight for Margaret Fury.

“Damnable sneak!” she yelled, pointing at her aunt. “You broke the lock on my trunk!”

Margaret opened her mouth wide. “I did no such thing!”

“Don't lie to me, Auntie!” Ariel leaned across the desk and bent over her. “I know you want the formula for the catalyst! You want it so badly you tried to get John to spy on me! And now you've pawed through my belongings like a common thief!”

“Nay, nay!” Margaret rose from her chair, shaking her head fiercely. “I would never dirty my hands by touching your possessions!”

“So what did you do? Get one of your lackeys to perform the deed?”

“This is absurd! First of all, I know very well you'd never put the formula in your trunk.” She pointed at Ariel's backpack. “It's in there, is it not? So why would I be so stupid as to—”

“Then who was it?” Ariel looked around the room, breathing hard. “Which one of you is the traitor?”

Elizabeth glared at her. The vertical scar on her face darkened as she stepped toward Ariel. Old Sam stepped toward her too, and so did Cordelia, who raised her wooden hand in a pacifying gesture. “Lily,” she said softly, “you must calm yourself, dearest.”

John wanted to help her, but he didn't know what to do. He'd never seen Ariel this angry before. He moved forward with the others, trying to catch her eye.

Then, while everyone's attention was fixed on Ariel, Old Sam stepped behind Elizabeth and put her in a choke hold. He hooked his sinewy left arm around her neck, and with his right hand he pulled a pistol from his pants and jammed its muzzle against the side of her head.

“Stand back!”
he roared. He quickly dragged the Chief Elder across the floor until he stood with his back to the wall. Elizabeth seemed too surprised to resist. She opened her mouth, her lips stretching to form the name “Sam,” but no sound came out. She couldn't breathe.

The guardsmen and Rangers were also surprised, but within seconds every one of them pointed an assault rifle at the bailiff. Old Sam responded by tightening the choke hold and making sure that Elizabeth shielded his body. John hadn't noticed until now how tough and wiry the old man was. He didn't even flinch as Elizabeth fought back, scratching his arm and stomping on his feet. He kept his grip on the Chief Elder while facing down all the men aiming their guns at him.

“I said stand back!”
he bellowed. “If you don't, she dies!”

Elizabeth struggled for breath, her face contorting. After a moment of collective hesitation, the guardsmen and Rangers took a couple of steps backward. Old Sam loosened his hold on the Chief Elder, who took a rasping breath that echoed across the warehouse. Then he looked directly at Ariel. “Take off your backpack, Lily,” he ordered. “Drop it on the floor and slide it over to me.”

She shook her head. “This is madness. Come to your senses, Sam.”

“Nay, I'm no madman. I've fooled all of you for months.” He allowed himself a brief smile, then curled his upper lip. “Now give me the backpack.”

Ariel narrowed her eyes, returning his look of hatred with one of her own. “So you were Sullivan's informant? The one who told him I was going to New York to get the catalyst?”

He nodded. “And I had every right to do it. Fountain will save my life and many others. Keeping it from us is nothing short of murder.” He tightened the choke hold again and Elizabeth squirmed in front of him. “You've stalled long enough. If you don't give me your pack in the next two seconds, I'll crush your mother's larynx.”

Scowling, Ariel took off her backpack, set it down and kicked it across the floor. It came to rest about a yard from Old Sam's feet. “It won't do you any good,” she said. “Sullivan is defeated. His Riflemen are dead. Their bodies lie under a mountain of crushed rock.”

Very carefully the bailiff extended his foot and toed the backpack closer to himself. “I know Sullivan's plans better than you do. He kept half of his men in reserve, withholding them from the battle. Now I'll contact him and let him know where you are.” He turned to the nearest Ranger, one of the men aiming their assault rifles at him. “Give me your radio, Lawrence. You owe nothing to these women.”

Lawrence glanced at the portable radio hanging from his belt but kept his rifle pointed at Old Sam. After a couple of seconds he shook his head.

“Don't be a fool!” Old Sam's face reddened. As he grew angrier he flexed the muscles in his left arm, squeezing Elizabeth's throat. She opened her mouth, gagging, and her eyes bulged out of their sockets. Desperate for air, she clawed and yanked at Sam's arm, but he wouldn't let go. And as he throttled Elizabeth, he glared at the Ranger named Lawrence. “Just think for a second, boy! If your mothers and sisters truly cared for you, would they deny you this remedy? Would they allow you to grow old and die even though they possess the cure?”

While Old Sam focused on Lawrence, John quietly stepped forward. Although he was more than ten feet away from the bailiff, he thought he could dare a lunge if he got a little closer. But the old man spotted the movement out of the corner of his eye. He swiftly pivoted, pressing his pistol so forcefully against Elizabeth's temple that her head jerked sideways. “And you're even more of a fool, paramour!” he shouted. “You're fighting to save a woman who was planning to kill you!”

The bailiff was growing more agitated by the second. Spittle flew from his lips as he yelled at John. Meanwhile, Elizabeth was losing consciousness. She let go of the arm that was choking her and hung limply in its embrace. Her lips had turned blue and her tongue lolled out of her mouth. Old Sam must've noticed that she'd stopped struggling, but he didn't seem to care. Even though it made no sense—he'd lose all his leverage if Elizabeth died—he kept on strangling her.

Then Cordelia Fury rushed toward the Ranger named Lawrence and snatched the portable radio from his belt. Before anyone could stop her, she ran to Old Sam with the device in her outstretched hand. She was crying hysterically. “Take it!” she screamed, thrusting the radio at him. “Just don't kill my sister!”

Now it was Old Sam's turn to be surprised. Without thinking, he reached for the radio. At this point John realized that Cordelia had a plan. She'd recognized a simple fact that had somehow eluded everyone else: the bailiff had only two hands. He tried to keep the gun pointed at Elizabeth's head as he reached for the radio, but the half-conscious Chief Elder slipped out of his grasp and began sliding to the floor. He turned away from Cordelia for a moment and grabbed Elizabeth around the waist to stop her from falling. And in that moment Cordelia swung her left arm in an accelerating arc and smacked her wooden hand against Old Sam's head.

Dazed, he staggered backward. As Elizabeth slumped to the floor, groggy and gasping, John saw his chance and lunged. He charged toward Old Sam, crossing the space between them in less than a second. But he was too late. Although the bailiff tottered from the blow to his skull, he stayed on his feet and held on to his pistol. Cordelia hadn't hit him hard enough, and she wasn't ready to hit him again. She stepped to the side, uncertain what to do. Old Sam, shaking off his dizziness, raised his pistol and shot her.

Then John tackled him from behind. The old man hit the floor face-first and the gun fell out of his hand. But John didn't pound him the way he'd pounded Archibald, the other traitor. The Fountain protein wasn't in John's veins anymore, and he didn't feel the insane urge to beat his enemies to a pulp. And Old Sam was out cold anyway, his broken nose leaking blood onto the concrete. So John just grabbed the dropped pistol and pinned the old man to the floor while the Rangers and guardsmen rushed forward. Half of them surrounded the downed bailiff, and the other half ran toward Cordelia.

Ariel was the first to reach her aunt, but she stopped short when she saw the bullet wound. It was in the center of Cordelia's chest, and there was surprisingly little blood on her dress. The bullet had gone straight through her heart, stopping it from beating. John had seen this kind of wound twice before, both times late at night in Kensington. The first time, he was sixteen years old and one of the boys in his corner crew was shot in a drive-by. The second time, it happened to his daughter.