The Exodus Towers (24 page)

He went upstairs again. A methodical search of each bedroom produced a few additional items: ammunition, two modern handguns, and a suitcase full of women’s clothes. Skyler put the weapons and bullets inside with the clothing and tossed the whole thing out the window to the dirt below.

In the master bedroom he found a sleek black briefcase on the top shelf of the closet, pushed way to the back. The locks were in place and required both a combination and a thumb-print to open.

Or an axe.

Skyler set the thing in the middle of the hardwood floor. He brought the blade down with all his strength, aiming for the front edge just behind the locks. It took two such swings to sever the front of the case. Sweating, Skyler dumped the contents onto the bed.

A passport spilled out, along with a thick leather wallet, two stacks of crisp one-hundred-euro bills, and a bag of cocaine.

Skyler flipped open the passport and read the name.
Gabriel Zagallo
.

The passport had stamps from every drug-infested hellhole on pre-disease Earth, along with travel visas for China and India. Skyler studied the photograph. The worn passport was dated a decade earlier, so he couldn’t be sure how much the man in the picture had changed since then. The man he saw had well-groomed black hair, combed neatly to one side. His head was tilted down, giving his eyes an animal quality that chilled Skyler.

This man had been a gangster, before
.

The contents of the wallet contradicted that conclusion. A credit slate, its screen dead due to a lack of spooling, had chipped corners and grime on the screen, implying heavy use. A stack of receipts for small meals, and a few small bills in the local currency. A driver’s license that confirmed the name on the passport. Most important, though, was the badge. The words across the top read
POLÍCIA FEDERAL
.

Gangster, or cop? Maybe both. Skyler wondered if the man had worked undercover. That might explain the bag of narcotics, and the money. Strange things to pack in the face of an apocalypse, but Skyler had seen plenty of odd choices in the belongings people tried to bring on their flight from the disease.

An undercover role also explained Gabriel’s ability to draw others to him. He would have the acting skills needed to lure people in. The ability to make up lies on the spot.

Skyler slipped the passport and wallet into his bag, and left.

Exhausted and hungry, he hiked along the ridgeline above the lodge. Dusk fell, and with it came a wild symphony from the rainforest that ringed the valley. Birds sang a countless variety of songs that all blended into one constant chatter.

The group of immunes sat around a small campfire nestled within a copse of trees, a few hundred meters past the ridge. They ate noodles in a spicy chicken broth and raw vegetables plucked from the garden behind the house. Skyler sat near the edge of the ring, and stuck to the noodles, in hopes of settling his stomach.

Between swatting insects from his neck and slurping broth, he stole glances at the prisoners they’d freed.

Aside from the child, the others were all adults and in relatively good health. The oldest, a woman with tired eyes and a quiet manner, was perhaps fifty. Skyler doubted she could help in retaking the colony, nor the young girl, but the other ten looked every bit the hardened survivors that he would have expected, five years on since SUBS scoured Earth.

At the end of the meal a bottle of rum was passed around; it had been found behind the driver’s seat in one of the armored trucks. By the second time the bottle reached Skyler, much of the somber mood had lifted. Davi laughed freely at a comment from one of the other men, while Ana played an improvised game with the young girl, using rocks and a stick.

Skyler wanted to talk of the next step in the plan, but Davi had been right. There was no harm in letting the freed immunes have a quiet evening before the storm that would follow.

The insects grew increasingly worse as the evening turned to night, and no one wanted to sleep outside. So they divided up into two equal groups and slept inside the armored trucks. Skyler took a driver’s seat that, though cushioned, did not recline, and his legs were pressed painfully against the dash. Eventually he gave up and climbed to the roof of the truck.

For a while he kept watch, but when an hour passed with only the constant din of birdsong wafting down from the tree line, he nestled himself amid the frayed backpacks and ragged canvas bags the group had cobbled together. Skyler pulled his jacket up around his head and lay down with his rifle cradled across his chest.

The smell of toast and strawberries greeted him when he woke.

Dawn had long passed, and the sun hung above the eastern horizon in a crisp, clear blue sky.

Half the group huddled about a cook fire, warming toaster pastries on a slab of charred wood. The sweet, buttery smell made Skyler’s stomach growl loud enough for others to hear and turn their heads.

A blue box lay near them, its edges charred. The lid had been torn open, and Skyler could see more of the breakfast pastries within, still wrapped in Preservall bags.

“Found it near the ridge,” someone said, munching on one of the golden squares. “Must have been blown a hundred meters by that explosion.”

Skyler set himself down beside one of the men and smiled. They offered him two of the pastries straight from the fire.

“One second,” Skyler said. He unzipped his backpack and rummaged through it until he found what he wanted. Straightening his face, Skyler produced a handful of instant-coffee packets. A cheer went up around the circle, and Skyler traded with the man offering him the pastries. Two of the treats for a dozen silver-foil packets of powdered coffee.

Within ten minutes, the others came to join them, called by the irresistible smells. Ana and Davi arrived in unison. They were dressed, armed, and breathing hard. Patrol duty,
Skyler recognized. He smiled at them. Ana smiled back, Davi did not.

Tomatoes from the garden were roasted on the same wood plank, and Skyler felt like a magician when he produced a fistful of white packets from his bag—salt and pepper. The red fruits were sour and not quite ripe, but with the seasoning they made a perfect counter to the sickly sweet pastries.

Now or never
, Skyler decided.

“My name is Skyler,” he announced. They all knew this by now; he’d made his introductions to each, and promptly forgotten most of their names. “I came here from Australia, and the Netherlands before that.”

All eyes were on him.

“I’ve spent my years since the disease came traveling all over the globe. Half of it, anyway. Japan, Vietnam, Sri Lanka, India, Russia, Hawaii. Everywhere, really.”

For ten minutes he recounted the events that had transpired on the other side of the planet. The Elevator they knew of, but the aura had only been rumor, discounted by everyone gathered. Skyler explained what led to his flight from Darwin to Belém, taking care to point out the sacrifices and heroics of all the others who’d come with them. He also told them of his old crew, and the sacrifice they’d made. “Immunes, like you,” he told them. “A voluntary band, six strong at our peak. We had an aircraft and went around looking for, well, whatever those trapped in Darwin needed. There’s a million people living there, by some counts, and just like you were trapped in that house, they are trapped in Darwin. Only they can’t ever leave. Not really.”

Skyler downed the last of his coffee and set the mug at his side. “Some made their way here when the new alien vessel arrived, and they found something remarkable.” He told them of the aura towers, and how pockets of safety were now possible for those without the immunity. He explained the lofty goals that Tania, Zane, and the others had set for themselves.

“The future,” he said in conclusion, “remains a mystery. If the Builders keep their schedule, according to the scientists they’ll be back in twenty months or so. What they bring, or
do, this time is anyone’s guess. All we know is, we need to get this new colony established, defended, and prosperous before that time arrives.”

Everyone stared at him. Total silence, save for a meager cough from the child.

“That’s all in jeopardy now. Gabriel, and his … people … have overrun the camp. They’re preventing supplies from being shipped up to orbit, and the people up there will be forced to return to Darwin soon if the siege is not broken.”

He left out his larger concern, that of the strange black-clad subhuman he’d seen inside that cave. Routing Gabriel, he knew, would just be the start.

“I need your help,” he said. He made sure to look at each of them, and let his gaze linger on Davi. “You know firsthand what this Gabriel character is capable of. I plan to put an end to his group, but I can’t do it alone. Will you help me?”

One of the women cleared her throat. Skyler nodded at her.

“I’ve been held here, or places like this, for over a year,” she said, her voice even and thickly accented. “Raped almost weekly.” She paused to let those words settle, as if now was the first time she’d admitted it even to herself. “Made pregnant twice, both ending in miscarriage. Held in solitude with no one to talk to except those who came to attack me: Gabriel, and many of his circle.”

Skyler felt his hands ball into fists, his jagged fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms. This woman would help—

“I cannot assist you,” she said, and Skyler’s heart clenched. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I just want to go, to flee and find somewhere quiet to live.”

Others were nodding, but some were not.

“What you’ve been through,” Skyler said, “was horrible beyond comprehension. I cannot even begin to imagine the terrible things that have befallen you. But if you walk away now, Gabriel will just continue to do the same to others. He had a dozen of you here, but there are hundreds in Belém
and a thousand more in orbit. This is the best chance to stop him before he hurts anyone else.”

“I’ll come,” Ana said. “I’ll fight that bastard.”

“Me, too,” said one of the men in the circle, a short, gaunt man with pale skin and distant blue eyes. He looked at the woman who’d spoken first. “I understand how you feel. I’ll fight for you, so that you can have peace.”

In the end, four others agreed to join Skyler and Ana. Davi was the last to speak.

He stared for a long time at his twin sister. For her part she alternated glances at Skyler and the ground in front of her, withering under her brother’s gaze. Skyler wondered if they’d agreed to leave now that they’d freed their friends, despite the deal they’d made.

Finally Davi shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

Ana closed her eyes, and the hint of a proud smile formed on her lips.

“What’s the plan?” Davi asked.

“No plan yet,” Skyler admitted. That drew some concerned stares. “I’ve done enough missions in my day to know that plans are worthless if made too early. We go back to Belém, we scout, and once we have information we choose a tactic and act, immediately.”

Whether that assuaged their fears or not, he couldn’t say. But within an hour the goodbyes had been said. The two groups, those coming and those not, divided between the two armored trucks and went their separate ways.

Despite initial protest from Davi, Skyler first drove back to the lodge. While his volunteers watched from the humming vehicle, he built a small fire in the dirt just outside the door. When the flames took, he poked a long stick in until the end of it burned, then walked to the house.

Skyler stepped into the building one last time and threw the flaming log onto an old couch pressed against the wall.

By the time they drove from the valley, the entire building was engulfed in flames. A plume of ugly black smoke rose high above the rainforest, marring an otherwise perfect sky.

Melville Station

6.MAY.2283

T
ANIA COULD NOT
sleep. The semblance of peace that her shared meal with Tim and Zane conjured had already vanished like the bittersweet departure of a good sunset.

The sound of waves, lapping gently on a beach, failed to help, and she’d stopped the sound effect almost as soon as she’d started it.

Eight laps around the central ring hadn’t helped, either. She’d run hard, treated the people she passed like an obstacle course, ignoring their concerned stares. If they were concerned for her sanity, or the air she churned through exerting herself, she didn’t know, and didn’t want to know. The only certainty was the question that waited on their lips:
What’s your plan? What are we going to do?

Greg and Marcus called, at Tim’s urging no doubt, and offered to host her on Black Level for a few days. They ran the now-fledgling research station, flush with scientific equipment but lacking in computational power to handle analysis as Green Level was left behind above Darwin. They’d turned to old-fashioned methods—pen and paper, long nights in front of a whiteboard—and seemed wholly reinvigorated by the change in pace. To escape there tempted her more than she cared to admit, even to herself. It still constituted escape, a flight from her responsibilities.