The Colony: A Novel (27 page)

Garrett stepped closer.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.”

Garrett squared his shoulders. “Go ahead. Shoot.”

After a long moment, Paul dropped the gun.

The colonel nodded. “You haven’t got the guts.”

“I haven’t got the bullets.” Paul lurched forward and punched the colonel in the stomach with his fist, but it felt like granite to his knuckles.

Garrett pushed him easily aside, then swept his foot into Paul’s bloodied thigh.

Paul snorted in agony and went down, throwing his arms out for balance. Anger blunted the pain and he lunged for Garrett. Paul was surprised at the strength of the older man as they grappled.

Garrett dropped the specimen jar and watched it roll across the roof. “I’m going to kill you,” he hissed. The words sent Paul reeling and the two men fell to the blacktop. Garrett straddled Paul and struck several blows to his face. They seemed to come out of nowhere. Paul reached a hand to his bloodied nose but several body punches knocked the wind from his lungs and left him dizzy and coiled over. He tried to recoup and swung wildly but missed.

The helicopter was hovering overhead. The pilot yelled something from a megaphone but Paul could barely hear anything over the engine and the ringing in his ears as Garrett connected with more punches to his head: five quick jabs to the temple and cheeks, a sharp right hitting his eye.

A dazzling spotlight hit the two men. The colonel shielded his eyes with the crook of his arm and yelled something to the pilot.

Paul made his move. He grabbed the colonel’s neck and shifted all his strength, rolling onto Garrett with a rage he never knew existed. He pressed down hard, squeezing his hands tight, as the colonel choked and struggled for breath, his face becoming mottled red. Paul could feel the body beneath him losing fight and slightly relaxed his grip, fearing he would kill the man, but his fingers stayed locked.

Garrett managed to turn his head and flung his arm to the ground, touched the barrel of the Glock. He reached for it, eased it closer until his palm gripped the handle. He smashed the gun into Paul’s temple.

Paul let out a grunt, clutching his forehead while Garrett crawled away, sputtering and heaving and finding himself cornered at the edge of the roof. Above their heads the helicopter was beating down on them.

Garrett sprinted toward the landing site, but Paul tackled him. Again they were rolling on the blacktop but this time at the edge, five stories above the sidewalk. Heaving every ounce of his weight, Paul forced Garrett’s head over the ledge, then his shoulders, until finally half of the colonel’s body was suspended in air. Now Paul could hear the pilot shouting over the thwatting blades:

“Step away from the officer! We will shoot you!”

Garrett frantically grabbed at Paul’s shirt collar, wrenching himself higher until they were face-to-face. Baring his teeth, he hissed, “You’re going down with me, O’Keefe. With any luck you’ll break my fall.”

Paul clawed at the slick blacktop, but it was futile. He was slipping, and he looked down in terror at the cement below.

A shot rang out.

Blood splattered across the roof.

CHAPTER 44

KENDRA STARED AT THE
glowing face of the watch strapped to her wrist and illuminating the time: 5:55. It wasn’t just despair and fatigue slowing her down. She felt woozy, with all-over body aches, as if she were coming down with the flu. The ant venom was still surging through her veins, hot and angry, while the cold temperature in the tunnel was affecting her muscles, making them stiff and slow. She struggled to fight off a feeling of hopelessness.

“Can’t stop now,” she said aloud. But Kendra had five minutes to make it to the roof. She thought about Paul anxiously waiting for her, holding off the soldiers in the chopper, who were most likely ready to hightail it out of the city, as the bombers came charging over the horizon.
We can’t wait any longer, Dr. O’Keefe!

Kendra swore under each breath and tears welled in her eyes; for a moment all she could do was collapse against the metal. “
Damn it, Paul.
I can’t do this.”

She lifted her head and was struck by a bright red light. Just possibly, she thought, it might signal the end of the tunnel. It was enough to get her moving. The pain subsided, along with the dizziness, and in that moment she found boundless energy and scrambled for the exit.

Kendra threw herself against the last door and found herself sprawled on a dirt floor. Lying perfectly still on her back, she stared up at the caged black lightbulb in a circular room cut from the earth. The smell of damp soil hovered in the air. A metal ladder stood at one end. She had reached the south exit.

Kendra coughed and drew a wheezing breath of relief. Now all she had to do was climb three hundred feet in about a minute.

“Piece of cake,” she said, and pulled herself to her feet. Her white sweater glowed violet under the black light.

Kendra grasped the first rung. “You can do this,” she coaxed sternly. “You did it twice before.” But that was with Paul, and now she seemed so alone, so exhausted. Kendra grabbed each rung white-knuckled, taking deep breaths.

She moved quickly at first, thinking of nothing but the next rung. Then she suddenly stopped. All at once the bottom seemed to drop out from below and taking another step became impossible. She was shaking and covered in sweat. It was as if her arms and legs were still climbing but she wasn’t getting anywhere. Fear struck with pounding force and the walls of the cavern began to close in. Kendra sensed their rough exterior just inches from her face and nearly slipped off the ladder, disoriented.

She squeezed her eyes tight.

“How far to the top?” she asked in a small voice. She could feel the flutter on her wrist, light, comforting wisps. Butterfly kisses.

Kendra didn’t know how long she stayed on the ladder, but her heart rate began to slow and her legs could move again.

There was nowhere else to go but up.

*   *   *

Paul’s face was splattered with blood and he felt Garrett go limp beneath him. He backed off and let the body plunge to the sidewalk.

Mayor John Russo stood by the open hatch with a smoking gun by his side. A powerful wind from the whirling blades of the Blackhawk threw him off balance. The helicopter came in fast and low as it landed on the blacktop. Russo ducked and broke for Paul at the ledge.

“Thanks,” Paul shouted over the sound of the engines. He was panting on hands and knees, overcome with relief, and wondering how many more people he’d have to thank for saving his life that day.

“You’re welcome,” answered Russo, looking down at the twisted body of Colonel Garrett on the pavement five stories below. “Now let’s get the hell out of here!”

He helped Paul to his feet, and he started for the chopper.

“Wait.” Paul took a few painful steps, then reached down and picked up the specimen jar. The queen was in three pieces and he handed the bottle to Russo. “I think we can study her, prevent this from happening again.”

“Is that right?” There was a sudden twinkle in the mayor’s eye.

Paul shouted, “Did you reach the president?”

Russo shook his head vigorously. “The phone line was cut. We can only hope the general got word in time—now let’s haul it.”

“I’m going back for Kendra.”

“Get inside, Paul. Those bombs could drop in minutes.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Three members of a Special Forces unit spilled out of the helicopter cabin with guns drawn. One of them charged toward the two men. Paul started for the hatch but the soldier was already upon them.

“Freeze!” he yelled, the barrel pointed at Russo’s head. “Drop your gun.”

The mayor let his gun fall and raised his hands. “Settle down, soldier.”

“You just shot Colonel Garrett.” His rifle shifted between Russo and Paul as he tried to decide in his next move. Obviously, this wasn’t the situation he expected. He turned to the Blackhawk, where the rest of the crew were pacing with keen eyes on him, hands ready on their weapons.

“Where’s General Dawson?” the soldier asked.

“Dead,” Russo told him. “Garrett shot him.”

The soldier raised his rifle with an expression of renewed alarm. He looked at Paul, who nodded affirmatively.

Mayor Russo yelled at the man with urgency, “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did they call off the bombing?”

“I don’t know about any bombs, sir. Now please get inside the helicopter.”

“Don’t you understand? They are going to drop nuclear bombs on this city! The president has no idea there’s another solution. If you just—”

“My orders are to pick up the last of the civilians on this roof.”

“There are people inside the bunker.”

“I can’t do anything about that, sir. We have direct orders to leave this site by eighteen hundred—that’s now!”

A heated voice screeched from the radio receiver on the soldier’s collar, “What’s happening, Sanchez? We are way behind schedule. Return at once!”

Paul could see it was another soldier, talking into his lapel.

In a bold move, the mayor charged Sanchez, grabbing at the receiver. “Listen to me—”

Russo was knocked to his knees by a blow from a rifle. “I’m placing you under arrest for compromising a mission of national security, and killing an officer of the United States Army. Now both of you—move!”

As the soldier pulled the mayor to his feet, Paul took off across the roof toward the hatch.

“Hey!” the soldier yelled.

“Paul!” the mayor called as he was dragged to the Blackhawk, but Paul was already out of earshot. Seconds later, the Blackhawk took off at full speed and banked toward the horizon, as night fell over the city.

CHAPTER 45

PAUL HAD BARELY DESCENDED
twenty feet down the ladder when he heard someone struggling on the way up. He shouted, “Kendra, is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me!” she cried with relief and exhaustion. “The ants invaded the bunker. Go up, Paul!”

He reached the roof and helped Kendra out of the hole, both locking into a tight embrace. She was covered in sweat, he was covered in blood.

“Thank God, you’re all right,” he said.

“Your face.” She touched his swollen, bloody cheek.

“Yeah, well,” he said faintly, “you should see the other guy.” He glanced anxiously at the open hatch. “Where’s Jeremy?”

Kendra shook her head. “He was supposed to meet me on the roof.”

They both scanned the empty blacktop in silence. Neither wanted to think the worst, opting instead to imagine Jeremy had escaped the ants in classic superhero fashion.

Kendra forced her attention to the bright speck of helicopter steady on the horizon. Its lights blinked off and she frowned. “You should have left without me.”

“No chance.” He put his arms around her shoulders. “You’re shaking.”

Kendra grasped his arm with more bad news. “I saw General Dawson. The phone line was cut.”

He nodded. “It’s out of our hands. Right now the mayor’s on that helicopter, hopefully convincing someone—”

There was a flash of light and a thunderous boom out toward the sea. Military planes were streaming over the horizon, headed toward lower Manhattan. The engines roared and Paul counted three in quick succession.

The first plane drew close to the UN, passing over the river, and stopped. It seemed to hover for a moment and then banked sharply to the right. Then a whirling sound echoed over the city as the plane took off like a bullet. Seconds later, a deafening explosion erupted from the ground where the plane dropped its load. Kendra closed her eyes and covered her ears from the burst.

Paul watched in horror as the lights from the Williamsburg Bridge flickered off and a huge piece of the enormous steel structure fell into the river. The sky came alive with more aircraft, and there were more eruptions and more sounds of collapse. Kendra huddled close to Paul and breathed into his neck, wanting to drown out the booms.

After a dozen massive explosions, the bridges and tunnels were gone and now they were truly an island. What would come next, they didn’t want to think about.

Paul and Kendra stood alone on the roof, holding hands, as a gentle wind blew across the buildings. The smell of smoke filled the air, but the planes were gone and the city was once again deathly still. Above the smoke, the sky was transforming from a deep blue in the west to the deepest black in the east, a vast number of bright stars poking through the canvas.

Paul’s voice was worried. “Do you hear them? They’re coming back.”

Kendra snapped out of her trance. Yes, she heard them. It wasn’t the planes returning but the ants. The roof was suddenly swarming with Siafu Moto. They raced up the sides of the buildings and across the blacktop.

“Where do we go?” Kendra cried, turning in circles.

“I don’t know,” Paul answered.

They backed away from one side of the building, but ants were swarming from every direction. They poured from the bunker’s open hatch like an erupting volcano. The entrance to the UN was blanketed by the colony, and the sea of ants began to take shape across the roof, a wide circle surrounding the scientists.

Kendra stumbled against Paul.

“Stay with me,” he told her, and they clutched each other, turning with the colony, looking for a path out of this. There was none, and for the second time that day, the two scientists braced for an onslaught.

Instead, the air around them turned fuzzy gray. Kendra felt the fluttering of a thousand wings, like gnats in her face. But it wasn’t gnats, it was ants.

The flight of the alates.

Kendra realized in one terrifying moment that time had run out; they would never stop the swarm. The winged virgin queens were taking off with the males in their nuptial dance.

She tried to speak but they flitted around her mouth and she wiped them from her lips. Paul was madly swatting his face.

At that moment, a sonic boom shook the building. Kendra jolted backward, searching the sky, while Paul reflexively ducked his head. Another sonic boom and the stealthy body of an F-22 Raptor cut through the heavens and hovered in the air like a snapshot.