Offworld (37 page)

"You either, Commander," she replied.

"Mae," Chris went on, "you know the streets better than any of
us. You know the cracks and crevices. Help them find them, but
listen to Trisha and do what she says."

Mae nodded.

Terry spoke up. `Any instructions for me?"

"Yeah," Chris replied, and Terry leaned in closer. "If you come
under fire, I need you to protect the others. And if you get backed
into a corner, block stray bullets with your head"

Terry snorted. "They'd just bounce off anyway."

Trisha ducked around the nearby corner of the house and her
two wards followed.

Trisha got a good look at the high-rise office tower just a block
away as she crouched in a rear access driveway, against the corner
of a brick pizzeria, peering through the binoculars Chris had given her. Mae and Terry knelt behind her, up against the wall. The beacon was to their west northwest, the tall, white building one block
ahead to their immediate north. She decided that building would
be their ideal perch.

She ducked back quickly when around the corner and several
blocks down, a group of five soldiers clad in grey camouflage and
carrying rifles came into view, headed their way.

"Move! Around the back; we'll try to slip that way to the building," she whispered to her companions, pointing.

She followed as they ran, trying not to let their footfalls echo
on the pavement.

"Hold!" said Terry as they neared the corner of a small grocery. He
knelt low and pointed into the air. Trisha leaned out next to him and
saw it: a sniper was positioned atop a building the next street over,
watching the area they'd need to cross. She strained for a better look;
the building was a hospital, one of many in this part of town.

They were boxed in a wide alley, completely exposed to the
coming foot soldiers, but escaping around the building's rear meant
giving away their position to the sniper. It would be all but impossible for him not to see them; they were the only thing moving for
miles around, aside from the other soldiers. And if the sniper's bullets didn't take them out, he'd be on his radio in seconds, relaying
their exact coordinates.

There was nothing in the alley to shield them from the oncoming
soldiers; it was empty pavement, situated snugly between the two
storefronts.

Trisha peered up at the sniper, who was shifting his gaze slowly
hack and forth across the immediate area. A hundred yards on the
other end of the driveway, she strained to hear the approaching
footsteps of the soldiers, but couldn't make them out. She stole
another glance at the sniper.... The soldiers' footsteps were getting
louder ... Out of time.

Her heart racing, Trisha looked up one last time, and saw that the sniper was facing southeast, away from their position. She didn't
take time to marvel at their good fortune.

"Go now!" she hissed, and jumped out around the back of the
building, leading the way.

They ran at a breakneck pace through the intense white light,
hugging the row of buildings nearest them, and using trees for cover
wherever they could. Trisha didn't look back at the sniper's position until they'd cleared the full block, hoping there were no other
soldiers in the area.

They came to a rear door at the white office tower that Trisha
wanted to enter, but the heavy steel door was locked with an oldfashioned, heavy-duty padlock.

She sighed. "All right," she whispered, "we'll find another way
in."

Mae stepped up to the door. "Scoot," she said, popping her
switchblade.

Before Trisha knew what was happening, she had stepped aside
as Mae inserted the narrow silver blade into the keyhole and with a
confident flick and twist, the padlock fell open. She pulled it loose
and handed it to Trisha.

"Thanks," Trisha said, the only words she could muster.

Terry stepped up and opened the door, leading the way in.
But as he passed through the doorway, he looked back at Mae and
whispered, "Can you teach me how to do that?"

The neighborhood Chris and Owen snuck through was heavily
wooded, lined with trees and endless rows of fenced-in homes.

The two of them ducked inside a very old storage shed in one
backyard, at a house situated next to an empty lot. It offered a
decent view of their surroundings, making it hard for Roston's men
to sneak up on them.

"How close you think we are?" Chris asked, kneeling to the ground, the air heavy with the smell of oil and grass. He held the
door open with one foot, so they both could see out, and pulled out a
pair of water bottles from his backpack. He passed one to Owen.

Owen glanced to their right from his kneeling position just to
Chris' right, at the dazzling beacon of light. "Less than half a mile
now."

Chris nodded. That was close to what he was thinking.

It had been painstaking getting this far. They'd had to double
back and retrace their steps multiple times, hiding again and again.
For every meter they took forward, it felt like they'd had to take two
meters back. The heat was overpowering, and Chris was ready to
take a break.

"Commander, are you there?" rang a voice in his earpiece.

"Go ahead, Terry," he replied. "Where are you?"

"In an office tower on Main, top floor, some kind of office.
Big white building. We've got a good view of ground zero from
here, and we're fairly certain where the beam's coming from-Rice
University."

Chris and Owen both stood and looked out at the beacon in the
distance. Chris suddenly couldn't take his eyes off of it. Even behind
his dark goggles, the light was the most intense he'd ever seen, and
he wondered what lay at its core. He stared at it for a long time,
pondering its mysteries, before a new thought came to him.

"More specifically," Trisha spoke up, "Chris, the beacon's coming
from the stadium."

Chris glanced at Owen, an unspoken conversation passing
between them. The giant, seventy-thousand-seat football arena
known as Rice Stadium was steeped in history, a very unique and
important history.

"How about that ..." Chris muttered.

"Trish has this funny look on her face," Terry reported. "Will
somebody please tell me what the deal is with that stadium?"

"You should know, Terry. It's part of your past," Chris replied. "Rice Stadium is the exact spot where JFK gave his famous speech
challenging NASA to send a man to the moon. The thing you're
looking at right now is the place where it all began."

Silence was the response.

"Can you see what's inside the beacon, at the base?" Chris asked,
pressing on.

"Can't make out any shapes or anything, but it's so bright, it's
hard to say," Trish replied.

"It's like the stadium's sitting on top of the world's biggest flashlight," added Terry.

"Can you get a bead on its circumference?" Owen asked.

"It's got about the same footprint as the interior of the stadium,"
said Trisha. "But, Chris-Roston's here, and in a big way."

"How big?" asked Chris.

"The entire parking lot west of the stadium has been converted
into a military outpost. Wire perimeter fence, a huge cluster of army
tents inside, I count more than fifty jeeps. It's basically a military
base. Whatever he's up to, Chris, he's here for the duration. And he's
ready for war."

"But wait -I don't understand something," said Terry. "Why go
to the trouble of establishing an elaborate base right at the foot of
the beacon? His people must have to wear these protective goggles
twenty-four seven. They'd even have to sleep with them on, wouldn't
they? Doesn't that seem counterintuitive?"

"Roston must have a reason that justifies the nuisance," Chris
replied.

Owen nodded in agreement. "There's something inside that light.
Something terribly valuable."

Silence overwhelmed the tiny shed where Chris and Owen
stood. What could be inside that beacon, causing it to blast such
intense light straight upward? An army stood between them and
the answers.

"We goin' in there?" Chris heard Mae's voice in the background.

"We most certainly are," said Chris.

"How?" asked Trisha.

"Still working on that," Chris replied.

"Shh! Did you hear that?" Terry's voice said into his earpiece.

Chris stood up straighter and put his hand over his ear, covering the earpiece and blocking all other sounds. He heard shuffling
sounds and panting. A door opened and closed. More panting.

"Trisha, report," he said. "What is it?"

"They know we're here!" Trisha whispered urgently. "They found
us!"

No...!

"Get out of there, head for ground level!" Chris barked. "We'll
meet you on the street!"

He and Owen darted from the shed at a full charge.

"I don't know if we can, there's so many of them ... !" Trisha
whispered back, her voice barely audible. `And Main Street is crawling with soldiers, you'll never make it!"

"We'll make it. You just get there in one piece!"

Heavy footfalls stormed down the adjacent corridor. Trisha estimated six, maybe eight soldiers. When the sounds faded, she turned
to face her companions.

Trisha, Mae, and Terry huddled together, kneeling on the boardroom floor on the building's top floor. They'd contacted Chris and
surveyed the college and the stadium from an elegant office three
doors down. Here, the bright light from the beacon blazed through
a series of tall, narrow windows on the outside wall to their far right,
but otherwise the whole place was dark.

"The only way out is the stairs, so that has to be our target,"
Trisha whispered. Terry nodded, clutching his gun as if preparing
to storm Normandy. Mae simply watched and waited, ready to move
when they were.

Trisha stood to her feet and put her hand on the doorknob,
preparing to peek out into the hall. She stopped when a husky male
voice began to shout, just a few feet outside the door.

"This is Major Griffin!" he bellowed, and Trisha assumed he was
speaking into a radio. "I want the building locked down! No one gets
in or out! Then I want a room by room search! Roston wants them
alive, but if that doesn't work out, he'll get over it. Remember, they
killed seven of our people."

Trisha recognized this man Griffin's voice. It was the same voice
she'd heard over a loudspeaker ordering her and Chris out of the
minivan atop the bridge in Lake Charles, right before Owen came to
their rescue. That would be the "seven" Griffin was referring to-the
ones Owen had killed on that bridge with the eighteen-wheeler.

This Major Gr ffin must be Roston 'c second in command.

She turned back to her friends and saw Terry visibly swallow.

When Griffin's footsteps had receded down the hall, Terry whispered, "These guys are hardcore. We'll never make it to the stairwellthey'll have it covered."

"Yeah, okay," Trisha conceded.

"What about the elevator shaft?" asked Terry.

"It's right across the hall from the stairwell. They'd see us."