Survivalist - 21.5 - The Legend (34 page)

He had no possessions in hand, stepped aside to allow a woman with a small child in tow to board ahead of him, then climbed aboard himself.

The bus was jointed at the center and, after a hurried guesstimate, he judged it would carry one hundred people.

He took a seat near the center exit door and beside a window on the driver’s side. The center rows were filling up fast, and most of the window seats were taken.

A girl, dressed and coiffed similarly to the tour guide, but with a different color scheme-brown hair and a blue dress and blue boots-sat down beside him. She wore round-framed glasses, too, but not for sua, and had pretty green eyes behind them. “You can have the window seat if you like,” he offered.

No, I like to be able to move around. But, thanks, anyway. Taken the tour to Rourke’s Retreat before?”

“No, I never have taken the tour. Is it exciting?”

“Oh, I guess, if you like history and everything.”

“Dont you like history?”

Tm taking a group of sixth graders here next week as part of

Rourke Day celebrations. I haven’t been in years, so I figured Fd go up and have a look around.” And she laughed, adding, “So the kids would think I know what Fm talking about. If you haven’t been, give this a read.”

Andshe reached into her smallish shoulder bag and took out a folded up brochure. She offered it and he took it.

Therewas a pretty color photograph of a rather heroically posed statue atop a mountain summit. ‘That is a nice piece of sculpture, isn’t it?” She was looking over his shoulder. “You know the story of course, right?”

“Iknow about John Rourke, of course, but all this-The Retreat Tour. It’s all new to me. History wasn’t my big subject either,” he told her.

“Golly,hard to imagine anybody not knowing it.” She shrugged her litde shoulders. “That’s supposed to be John Rourke, how he looked when he singlehandedly fought off the last Soviet helicopter on the morning of the Great Conflagration. That’s the old American flag supposed to be flying behind him, there. See?”

“Yes.Marvelous detail in the sculpture.”

“Hewas a pretty handsome guy, the way they depict Wm, anyway. When I was a httle girl, I used to look at his face on the dollar bill and think, wow, what a guy. Mom and Dad were into history, so I guess that’s where I got it.”

“TheRetreat was his personal hideaway.”

“Gotall his stuff there, or most of it anyway. The guns that they display there - you’ll like that part; most men do - they’re supposed to be the same guns he really used before he was killed in that hospital explosion.”

“Ithought they survived that?”

“Well,I suppose you can look at it that way, but both of them were brain dead anyway. Poor people. But you’re right, technically. They were still alive until those terrorists attacked the place at Mid-Wake where their bodies were being kept and burned it.”

“Now,was that before or after Kurinami and his wife were assassinated?”

“Thesame day. Let me guess. You’ re from Mid-Wake, right?”

Tvespent a lot of time there,” he smiled.

“Yeah,can you imagine that? John and Sarah Rourke were both

killed-actuallykilled-and the first President of Eden and his wife were assassinated on the same day. Gosh, that would have been a rec-reationisfs nightmare, wouldn’t it?” “Recreationist?”

“Now,come on, they’ve gotta use recreationists at Mid-Wake.” “I don’t think so, but if you tell me what one is, I could tell you for sure.”

Thebus started and the tour guide announced, “Please make certain that your seatbelts are properly fastened. The road leading up Rourke’s Mountain is very steep. For safety information, consult the monitors in the seat backs in front of you.”

Therewas a small color television screen set into the seat back, and every seat back, playing now a demonstration on seatbelt adjustment, then moving onto how to properly position oneself intheevent of an accident

“Whatwas I say ing?”

Helooked at the girl, smiled, said, “You were telling me what a recreatwoist is.”

“Well,you know. On the news? Wltonthere’sacrrmeorsomething, ifs re-enacted so people can see how it actually took place.” “Like a play?

“Well,sort of, but nobody makes it up. Ifs just like the real thing, only better.”

“Isee. How long have you been teaching sixth graders?” “Five years. I taughtkirKfergartenforayearbeforethat. “Itmustbe wonderful to be a teacher,” he told her. “Ifs a living.”

Thetour guide’s voice came over the bus’ PA system. “In this the 125th year since the landing of the Eden Fleet,” she began, “every citizen of Eden, every citizen of the World, should pause to reflect on the courage of Doctor John Thomas Rourke.”

Autorriabcally,it seemed, the windows of the bus tinted, obscuring exterior Light. There was a flicker on the video screen in the seatback in front of him. An intricate electronic logo appeared for Eden National Television.

Thelogo was cut to the statue which appeared on the brochure, the young woman who sat beside him, had taken from her miniscule purse. But k was a close up of the statue’s face. The camera drew back, moving on a track or a steady-cam mount, it seemed, starting to

panaround the statue as an announcer’s voice came on.

“Onehundred twenty-five years ago, this man, Doctor John Thomas Rourke, risked his life to save the returning Eden Project astronauts. The world was still engaged in the bloodiest war of human history, a war which had destroyed almost all life on the planet, human, animal and vegetable.

“UnderJohn Rourke’s leadership, and with the help of the courageous Eden astronauts, a fighting force was forged, standing virtually alone against the land, naval and air forces of the Soviet Union …”

Herecalled the line variously attributed to several historical figures, among them Napoleon: “History is a set of lies agreed upon.”

Thegirl beside him whispered, “They say that Lance Stone almost begged the government to let him play John Rourke. Isn’t Lance Stone just gorgeous?”

Hedidn’t comment.

Theactor, tall, with dark curly hair, stood atop a mountain, shirt ripped to shreds like “Doc Savage,” and seemingly more muscles beneath the tatters. There was a pistol in each of the man’s hands. The American flag blew in a stiff wind behind him.

Firerolled across the sky.

Fastintercut of advancing helicopter gunships, all painted matte black, mini-guns firing, smoky white contrails snaking behind streaking red-tipped missiles - he imagined this was a very sophisticated form of digitized computer animation.

BacktoLance Stone. “You haven’t won, Karamatsov! Andaslong as one free person exists on this scorched planet, you never will! Come and get me!” It should have been Rozhdestvenskiy to whom the actor hurled his challenge; because, at that time, Karamatsov was assumed dead.

Thehelicopters streaked over the mountainside and Lance Stone, as John Rourke, oiled muscles rippling, flag still flowing in the breeze behind him, fired his pistols from the hip. Fast cutaway to one of the Soviet helicopter gunships exploding in mid-air, fiery bodies j tumblingfrom it. I Cutto the sky, fire rolling in from all directions. I Closeup of Lance Stone as John Rourke. Somehow, he’d gotten a i cigarin his mouth, a big one, half-smoked, and the way the camera | and the lighting worked together, his eyes could be seen faintiy be-1

hinddark leased aviator style sunglasses, squinting in determination as lightning bolts flashed all around him and machine gun fire barely missed him.

Theannouncer’s voice returned, as there wasacut back to the continuing pan of the statue. “With the help of his faithful companion, Paul Rubenstein, John Rourke’s heroism saw its finest hour when Soviet gunships attempted to shoot the returning Eden Project spacecraft from the sides.”

Closeup. was the face ofLance Stone, a cigar clamped in his teeth, aviator style sunglasses cocked back on bis forehead, eyes squinted again. Thecanieradrew back. Stone, as Rourke, wasinthecockpitof a helicopter. “Eat lead. Commie bastards!” Fast intercut of a thumb depressing a red button labelled Fire Control, cut to tight shot of missiles on weapons pods, then streaking away. Cut to distance shot, showing missiles and contrails.

Ablack helicopter gunship with a red Hammer and Sickle symbol was blown out of the sky.

Obviouslycomputer graphics again, but very good. Space Shuttles, Eden One in the lead, cracked the sound barrier and looped out of an icy blue sky. Soviet gunships zipped above the shuttles and below them.

Backto Lance Stone, a microphone in his hand, saying, “Eden One, this is Rourke! Come in! Take evasive action! Over and Out!”

Itmight possibly be easier for a boulder to take evasive action than for a twentieth century space shuttle to do so. Buttheshuttlecraftdid, anyway.

“Imet Lance Stone once. Gee, he’s terrific, isn’t he?” Terrific, yes.”

“Andthis is just the way it happened. Ifs all documented.” “Really? This is exactly the way? Rightdown to the stuff he said on the radio and everything?” “Ohh,yeah.”

“Exciting,“he told her, bis eyes never leaving the screen …

Theheadphone set he wore as he walked up the roadway from the bus, the pretty tittle mini-dressed brunette beside him, told him, The historical importance of the Rourke shrine cannot be minimized. It was here, at The Retreat, that John Rourke set his plans to,

literally,save the world. Now on Eden-owned land in the absence of any descendants because of the terrorist atrocity, which claimed the lives of the entire Rourke family, The Retreat on Rourke’s Mountain is a modern day Mecca tor citizens of Eden and citizens of the World.

“Onthe very same day as the terrorist assault on the repository at Mid-Wake where the Rourke rarnily bodies were held in cryogenic freeze, Eden’s first president, the courageous Japanese astronaut, Akiro Kurinami, was assassinated along with his wife, the former Elaine Halversen, an Eden scientist.

“CommanderChristopher Dodd, whom it had been thought had been the victim of foul play, was miraculously alive. Dodd returned in the aftermath of President Kurinami’s death, heroically taking on the mantle of leadership he had rejected months earlier, when he refused to run for the Presidency. Christopher Dodd, against his protestations, continued as President of Eden until his death, at which time a successor he himself had selected was voted unanimously into office by the ever growing Eden population.

“Thatman, of course, Eden’s third President, was Arthur Hooks, President Dodd’s able assistant in the closing days of his history-making life.

“PresidentHooks’ administration continued the great works begun under Christopher Dodd.”

Hewasn’t interested, but there was no way of shutting off the wireless headphones, really receivers. So, he ignored the words, not wishing to remove the headphones.

Atlast, as they reached the height of the road, the broadcast ceased.

Othersremoved their headphones and so did he. The girl beside him said, “You know, you look familiar.” “I do? I guess I just have that sort of face, common.” “No! You have a nice face. And I don’t usually like beards.” He smiled.

“Whatare you doing after the tour? He looked at her. Tm sorry?” “Do you have a health card?” He had to think. “Yes,” he finally said. “Well, why not my place and we can see what develops over the evening, huh? I’ve got a spare toothbrush.” He started to try thinking of an answer when their tour guide began

tospeak. “All right, may I have your attention, please?” Evidently, she had it. She said, “We are about to enter The Retreat. This entrance before you was once a closely guarded secret known only to Doctor Rourke’s closest friends, men like Akiro Kurinami and Christopher Dodd.” Half-right, he thought. The synth-glass electronic doors weren’t in use then,” she smiled. There was general laughter. “Now, remember, inside the Retreat there are real weapons, vasdy more powerful than some that are in use by the outlaws in the Wildlands. They are all under unbreakable synth-glass, but please remember not to touch anything.”

Peoplestaned filing through. In the space between the outer doorway and the inner vault door, illuminated in red lighting, there was a jet black Hariey Davisdon Low Rider. “John Rourke personally rode this motorcyck during many of his heroic exploits, usually parking it in this very spot. Now, watch your step, because this is real rock and sometimes gets very slippery.”

Dutifully,he watched his step, taking the young lady’s elbow-to her evident surprise - and helping her.

“MartinZimmer. Eden’s leader since the abolition of the presidency some sen years ago, personally rededicated this shrine as his first official act. it is said. And, he undertook to make certain that every item stored within was perfecdy maintained out of his deep personal respect, for the heroic Doctor John Rourke.” The tour guide al-ways seemed to end every sentence, almost every word, with a big toothy smik. This time was no exception.

“Ihaven’t seen any pictures of Martin since - “

Thegiri with him looked positively shocked, eyes like saucers behind her enormous glasses. “He’s never seen in public. He was terribly disfigured, the poor man, during the war with the outlaws in the Wildlands.”*

That’sright. Silly me for not remembering.”

Thetour guide chattered on.

Downthree steps and in the center of the vast central chamber there were iUurmnated cases.

Asthe people from the tour broke up, he started toward the cases, the girl still beside him. “Justlike aman. Lookatallthecowboytoys.”

Hesmiled, shrugging his shoulders.

Hetook off his sunglasses, peering into the largest case.

Therewere two shiny stainless steel pistols, below them a printed

labelreading, “Detonics CombatMaster. 45 automatic pistols used by John Rourke on the day of the Great Conflagration, to shoot down the last Soviet helicopter gunship.” There was a long barrelled revolver, .44 Magnum simply labelled, “Smith & Wesson Model629.” Below these there was a litde black knife bearing the label “A.G Russell Sting IA Black Chrome,” a large fighting/survival knife with a label beneath it reading, “Handmade Life Support System X by Jack W.Crain of Weafhertord, Texas, circa late twentieth century.” And there was a pair of dark lensed aviator style sunglasses.