Zil looked at Lance. “What do you think, big guy?”
“Me?” Lance looked troubled. “Hey, I do what you say, Zil.”
So, Zil realized, it was on him. The thought soured the happy buzz. Up until now he had known he could more or less justify his actions. He could say, ‘Look, Hunter killed Harry. I was bringing him to justice.’ Kids would accept that. Sam might not accept it, but he probably would have no choice but to let it go.
But if they actually executed Hunter, like Hank obviously wanted, then Sam and all his kids would come after Zil. And the reality was, the five of them wouldn’t last a minute in a fight with Sam.
If they killed Hunter, it would be open war with Sam. Sam would win.
Zil could not admit that, though. It would make him look pathetic.
He was trapped. If he looked soft, Hank would turn against him. And Hunter was sure to come after them if they let him go. But killing Hunter would doom Zil.
“We need more kids than just us five,” Zil said. “I mean, we need other kids to be in on this.”
Hank looked wary.
But Zil had an idea now. It was blooming like a flower in his mind. “Sam can fight the five of us, but he can’t take on the whole town, right? Who is he going to boss around if the whole town is against him?”
“How we going to get a bunch of kids to be on our side?” Hank demanded.
Zil grinned. “We have all this meat, right? Kids are really hungry. What do you think they would do for a deer steak?”
Edilio drove faster than he ever had before. Seventy miles an hour down the highway, weaving through the abandoned or crashed trucks and cars. The wind whipped words away as soon as they were spoken, so they drove in silence.
Turning onto the coast road that led to the power plant, Edilio had no choice but to slow down. There were hairpin turns, and a moment’s inattention would send them all hurtling down the slope through brush and boulders into the sea.
Suddenly Edilio screeched to a halt.
“What?” Sam said.
Edilio held up a finger. He strained to hear. And there it was. “Gunfire,” he said.
“Drive,” Sam said.
Orc was peeing when he heard Howard yell, “Ahhh!”
He didn’t care. Howard yelled more than was necessary. He was small and weak and scared easily.
He turned around just as Drake fired. He could see the muzzle flash coming from a hole in the wall.
Dekka was floating. Then falling. And Howard was pressed flat against the wall.
“Orc!” Howard shouted.
Dekka hit the ground. Not really a problem for Orc. He didn’t like Dekka much. She just ignored him, mostly, and looked away whenever he was close to her. Disgusted by the sight of him.
Well, who wasn’t? Orc disgusted himself.
Then he saw the face behind the gun. Drake. Drake had gone after Orc with his tentacle and whipped him. It hadn’t hurt much, but Orc still hadn’t liked it. Drake had been trying to kill him.
Orc didn’t like Drake. That didn’t mean he liked Dekka. But Sam did, and Sam had been fair with Orc. Sam had gotten him beer.
Orc wished he had a beer right now.
Save Dekka, and Sam would probably reward Orc. Saving Dekka—that had to be worth at least a case. Maybe something from a foreign country. Orc hadn’t tried any of that beer yet.
Drake was a hundred yards away. Dekka was half that distance. A motorcycle was parked just five feet away.
Orc grabbed the motorcycle. He held the front wheel in one hand, the handlebars in the other. He twisted hard and the wheel came off easily.
“Someone’s shooting!” one of Drake’s soldiers yelled, rushing in.
“Yeah, guess who?” Diana said.
“Too soon,” Caine snarled. “I told him to wait. Jack. Do it.”
“I don’t want to rush and—”
Caine raised both hands, lifted Jack up in the air, and threw him into the instrument panel.
“Now!” Caine yelled.
They were out of the control room, at a separate monitor that showed the inside of the reactor itself.
Jack punched a sequence of numbers into a keypad.
The electromagnets switched off.
The cadmium control rods plunged like daggers.
It was all silent on the black-and-white monitor. But the effect was immediate. The vibration of the turbines, the steady hum that had been part of the background, suddenly dropped in pitch.
Lights flickered. The monitor picture wobbled then stabilized.
“Is it safe to go in?” Caine demanded.
“Sure, what could be dangerous about a nuclear—”
“Shut up!” Caine shouted. “Open it up, Jack.”
Jack obeyed.
They stepped into a vast room that seemed to be made almost entirely of stainless steel. Stainless-steel floor. Stainless-steel catwalks. Cranes. Caine had the impression of a gigantic restaurant kitchen.
What wasn’t stainless steel was safety yellow. Safety railings. The risers on steps. Signs in yellow and black warning of what surely no one who had made it here needed to be reminded of: radiation hazard.
The dome overhead was like something out of a cathedral. But there were no frescoes decorating the painted concrete.
Caine felt abashed by the scale of the place.
At the center of it all, a circular pit, like some ghastly blue-glowing swimming pool. Not that any sane person would ever be tempted to jump in.
A catwalk went all the way around. And a robotic crane hovered over it. Down there, below, in the sinister depths, were the fuel rods. Each filled with gray pellets that looked like nothing much. Stubby gray cylinders of what might as easily be lead.
“Me?” Lance looked troubled. “Hey, I do what you say, Zil.”
So, Zil realized, it was on him. The thought soured the happy buzz. Up until now he had known he could more or less justify his actions. He could say, ‘Look, Hunter killed Harry. I was bringing him to justice.’ Kids would accept that. Sam might not accept it, but he probably would have no choice but to let it go.
But if they actually executed Hunter, like Hank obviously wanted, then Sam and all his kids would come after Zil. And the reality was, the five of them wouldn’t last a minute in a fight with Sam.
If they killed Hunter, it would be open war with Sam. Sam would win.
Zil could not admit that, though. It would make him look pathetic.
He was trapped. If he looked soft, Hank would turn against him. And Hunter was sure to come after them if they let him go. But killing Hunter would doom Zil.
“We need more kids than just us five,” Zil said. “I mean, we need other kids to be in on this.”
Hank looked wary.
But Zil had an idea now. It was blooming like a flower in his mind. “Sam can fight the five of us, but he can’t take on the whole town, right? Who is he going to boss around if the whole town is against him?”
“How we going to get a bunch of kids to be on our side?” Hank demanded.
Zil grinned. “We have all this meat, right? Kids are really hungry. What do you think they would do for a deer steak?”
Edilio drove faster than he ever had before. Seventy miles an hour down the highway, weaving through the abandoned or crashed trucks and cars. The wind whipped words away as soon as they were spoken, so they drove in silence.
Turning onto the coast road that led to the power plant, Edilio had no choice but to slow down. There were hairpin turns, and a moment’s inattention would send them all hurtling down the slope through brush and boulders into the sea.
Suddenly Edilio screeched to a halt.
“What?” Sam said.
Edilio held up a finger. He strained to hear. And there it was. “Gunfire,” he said.
“Drive,” Sam said.
Orc was peeing when he heard Howard yell, “Ahhh!”
He didn’t care. Howard yelled more than was necessary. He was small and weak and scared easily.
He turned around just as Drake fired. He could see the muzzle flash coming from a hole in the wall.
Dekka was floating. Then falling. And Howard was pressed flat against the wall.
“Orc!” Howard shouted.
Dekka hit the ground. Not really a problem for Orc. He didn’t like Dekka much. She just ignored him, mostly, and looked away whenever he was close to her. Disgusted by the sight of him.
Well, who wasn’t? Orc disgusted himself.
Then he saw the face behind the gun. Drake. Drake had gone after Orc with his tentacle and whipped him. It hadn’t hurt much, but Orc still hadn’t liked it. Drake had been trying to kill him.
Orc didn’t like Drake. That didn’t mean he liked Dekka. But Sam did, and Sam had been fair with Orc. Sam had gotten him beer.
Orc wished he had a beer right now.
Save Dekka, and Sam would probably reward Orc. Saving Dekka—that had to be worth at least a case. Maybe something from a foreign country. Orc hadn’t tried any of that beer yet.
Drake was a hundred yards away. Dekka was half that distance. A motorcycle was parked just five feet away.
Orc grabbed the motorcycle. He held the front wheel in one hand, the handlebars in the other. He twisted hard and the wheel came off easily.
“Someone’s shooting!” one of Drake’s soldiers yelled, rushing in.
“Yeah, guess who?” Diana said.
“Too soon,” Caine snarled. “I told him to wait. Jack. Do it.”
“I don’t want to rush and—”
Caine raised both hands, lifted Jack up in the air, and threw him into the instrument panel.
“Now!” Caine yelled.
They were out of the control room, at a separate monitor that showed the inside of the reactor itself.
Jack punched a sequence of numbers into a keypad.
The electromagnets switched off.
The cadmium control rods plunged like daggers.
It was all silent on the black-and-white monitor. But the effect was immediate. The vibration of the turbines, the steady hum that had been part of the background, suddenly dropped in pitch.
Lights flickered. The monitor picture wobbled then stabilized.
“Is it safe to go in?” Caine demanded.
“Sure, what could be dangerous about a nuclear—”
“Shut up!” Caine shouted. “Open it up, Jack.”
Jack obeyed.
They stepped into a vast room that seemed to be made almost entirely of stainless steel. Stainless-steel floor. Stainless-steel catwalks. Cranes. Caine had the impression of a gigantic restaurant kitchen.
What wasn’t stainless steel was safety yellow. Safety railings. The risers on steps. Signs in yellow and black warning of what surely no one who had made it here needed to be reminded of: radiation hazard.
The dome overhead was like something out of a cathedral. But there were no frescoes decorating the painted concrete.
Caine felt abashed by the scale of the place.
At the center of it all, a circular pit, like some ghastly blue-glowing swimming pool. Not that any sane person would ever be tempted to jump in.
A catwalk went all the way around. And a robotic crane hovered over it. Down there, below, in the sinister depths, were the fuel rods. Each filled with gray pellets that looked like nothing much. Stubby gray cylinders of what might as easily be lead.
