Cut Off (44 page)

"Kerry's got a nasty hole in his shoulder, but he ought to be okay. Especially if Sebastian ever wakes up."

"You hold things down here. I'm going to take a squad to check the tunnels."

He gazed over the field of the dead. "Doubt you'll find much. Looks like they threw everything they had at us."

Including their original group, they had more than twenty people at hand. With Sam's help, she selected six of them, leading them past the killing field and into the left-hand tunnel where the aliens had come in through.

Sam's flashlight reflected from a long mirror propped against the wall. "The fuck is that?"

"The best defense against lasers," Tristan said. "Don't ask me where they got it."

"It was really just the five of you up here?"

"Seven, if you count the unconscious members of our party." She threaded through a fleet of gurneys the aliens had apparently been expecting to use for their wounded. As she did so, Sam laughed. Tristan glanced up "What?"

"What what?" Sam said. "You're insane. In the head."

"I used to be a very normal girl. Wherever I am now, it's strictly due to circumstances."

They made their way down the hall, checking rooms, then looped around to check the other two passages radiation from the intersection. By the time they finished their initial sweep, those back at Ness' so-called "pillow fort" had stacked the bodies of the aliens to one side of the tunnel. Eight armed locals manned the barricades. Somehow, the lights had been turned back on.

Down the hall, a man shouted in anger. Tristan ran forward. Outside the surgical suite, Ness stood in front of Sebastian, interposing himself between the alien and a gaggle of humans reaching for their weapons.

"Hold your fire!" Ness said. "He's with us!"

The people froze, rifles trained on the alien. Most glanced to Papa Ohe'o. The old man peered down the hallway at Tristan. "Is this true?"

She slowed to a walk. "I only met them earlier today. In that time, Ness and his interstellar friend have knocked this place the fuck out."

"Such language," the old man muttered. He took a step forward, staring up at Sebastian's expressionless face. "How do you know he's friendly?"

Ness lowered his arms. "We spent most of the last five years inside a submarine. If being trapped together in a metal tube under the water didn't turn us on each other, nothing will."

"This is beyond perplexing. Then again, it's your show, isn't it? I happily suspend my judgment." He met the eyes of the conscripts, turning back to Ness once the last of them had put away their guns. "What
is
the show from here?"

"Burn the place down," Tristan said. "Wipe out every trace of the virus."

"Not quite," Ness said, gesturing with Sebastian. "Destroying this place will eliminate their ability to tie it to our plants. But the second virus didn't originate here."

She eyed him levelly. "Tell me you know where it
did
come from."

"Yes and no."

"Quit making me go on a fishing expedition and explain what you're talking about."

Ness exchanged signs with Sebastian, then took a tablet from him and showed it to Tristan. The display held a map, albeit an oddly colored one. It took her a moment to recognize southern and Baja California. He zoomed in on a spot near the former US/Mexico border until a white dot appeared in the sea.

"See that? According to their records, that's the primary lab. Notice any problems?"

"Like what?"

Ness rolled his eyes. "Like the fact it's ten miles from land? Sebastian's been fooling with the maps to try to locate the error, but he's not having any luck."

"That's because there is no error." She stared down at the dot. "It's underwater."

"You talk like you've seen it."

"I have. Or one just like it. During the invasion, I was taken captive and held at an underwater lab. Their goal was to find something that would kill those of us who'd survived the Panhandler. After a few weeks, they seemed to give up and dumped us in a camp in the desert."

"Lordy." Ness began signing to Sebastian. Absently, he said, "Good thing we got a boat."

"First things first. We secure the remainder of this place and destroy everything they've done."

Over the next few hours, Tristan and Sam swept the tunnels while Ness and Sebastian combed logs, watched security maps, and identified all materials related to the plant virus. With night beginning to fall and her energy to flag, Tristan headed their squad back to the tunnels.

"Didn't see a thing," she reported to Ness in the surgery.

He nodded and looked up from a tablet, rubbing his eyes. "Sebastian dug up a blip at the exit to a lava tube leading to the southwest. Multiple aliens passed through it just minutes after the massacre."

"Heading where?"

"Best guess? To a submarine docked offshore. We used to have one until not long ago. We think they saw the jig was up and lit out while they still could."

"Or they ran into the jungle to hide."

"Clear the island, if you think that's the best use of your time," he said. "But it looks like Maui's got plenty of people who can carry a gun and run around a hillside. You're the only one I know who's ever been to this lab."

She thumbed her chin. "How long before you intend to head out?"

"It'll take us at least a few days to sketch out a plan and drag together supplies. Will you know by then?"

"I won't
know
until I hear the plan. But the longer we leave them out there, the greater the chance they'll release the second virus, right? So plan fast."

Ness smirked. While they'd been scouting, someone had gone down to the jungle and brought back fruit and poi. She ate, then collapsed inside one of the lidless boxes to sleep. When she woke for good, she hopped on to the edge of the box, spat inside it, and went to the garden to urinate. On her way through the pre-dawn, a man saluted her.

Back in the tunnels, the smell of decaying alien marine life had been replaced by something nearly as foreign: brewed coffee. She wandered toward the troops manning the barricades and was intercepted by Sam bearing two steaming mugs.

"You can't drink that," Tristan said. "It could be tainted."

Sam shook her head sharply. "Our gracious inhuman host assured us it's fine. Come on, it's laser-roasted."

Tristan took the mug and raised it to her nose. "If I start coughing blood, I'm aiming it your way."

"You're disgusting when you're tired," Sam said. "So? Yes or no?"

"To what?"

Sam arched one brow. "To the assault on the undersea fortress."

"Where'd you hear about that?"

"Ness," she said. "The weird guy in the diaper."

Tristan burst into laughter, trying to steady her cup. "We've got to get him some pants."

"He was asking me about explosives. Ones that work underwater. I asked a few questions of my own. Sounds like a fun trip."

"I had the impression you were only in this for yourself."

"After Ness found out I was scuba-certified, I didn't have much choice." She ran her hand through her hair. "I'm not a lone gunman. I've just never seen the right team attached to the right cause."

"Oh, what the hell," Tristan said. "It can't be any crazier than what we went through yesterday."

They gathered a team and made another sweep of the tunnels. These were as silent as ever, the lights unflickering. In the rooms, equipment sat idle; in one lab, a pineapple lay on a table, half dissected, the smell of its browning pulp sweet in the air. Tristan's heart dropped. She backed out of the room, holding her breath.

On her way to the fort, she heard the unmistakable jingle of dog tags. Ahead, Helen walked at the center of six leashed dogs. A basset hound turned to give Tristan a skeptical look.

In the lab, she consulted with Sebastian on the locations of any live samples of the virus. Ness translated. Once she had her answers—two sources, both under containment in the labs—Ness filled her in on the plan.

"It's as simple as it gets," he said, pacing around a table littered with sketches and notes. "We sail to the site. Sebastian and whoever's scuba-ready swims around to find the exact location, and then to locate the best spots for the boom-gum."

"The boom-gum?"

Ness got a funny look on his face. "The C-4."

"Is 'boom-gum' how you describe it to Sebastian?"

"He's not about to know what C-4 is, is he? Moving along, we plant that shit, get back to the boat, and punch the button." He placed his fingertips together, then spread them in an expansive motion. "The ocean ought to take care of anything that isn't destroyed in the blast, but we'll stick around a while to make sure."

On the table to the side of the room, the one-legged man sat up and stretched. "Sounds wonderful. When do we leave?"

"Sprite!" Ness rushed beside the table. "How long you been awake?"

"Long enough to realize I've been pin-cushioned." He spread his arms, a tube dangling from the inside of his elbow, then gazed down at the line running under the blanket to his crotch.

"Don't worry, man. Sebastian handled everything."

"That's supposed to make me feel
better
?" He glanced at his right leg, registering without comment the laser-cauterized stump beneath the blanket. "Like I said. When do we ship out?"

"We?" Ness lowered his gaze to the ground, arms folded. "Don't you think maybe you've given enough already?"

"Enough?" Sprite jutted his chin. "I've still got two arms, one leg, a head, and two big swinging balls."

"We ain't shoving off for another couple-three days yet. How about you think on it till then?"

"It's going to take a lot more than a few days to change my mind. We're headed back to sea, right? Every ship worth its salt needs a sailor with a peg leg. Now someone go get me a peg."

"You are unbelievable."

The rest of the day was devoted to securing the ephemera related to the work on the hybrid plant virus. Sebastian handled the actual virus itself, bringing both samples into the lab and covering them with a charge of off-white explosives. He scuttled down the hall to join the others. The explosion blew the orange door straight off its frame. It hit the other wall with a damp thunk. Dust shook from the ceiling, sifting into their hair.

Most of the equipment was decentralized across the installation. They wheeled it all up the lone tunnel to the crater, piling it on a stretch of red dirt separated from the circular rows of coffee bushes. The black smoke of the fire pushed into the sky like an upraised fist.

* * *

With twenty people pitching in, work went fast. They loaded the yacht with food, water, weapons. Sam had a working pickup she used to haul two hundred gallons of her massive diesel cache down to the shore. Two of the men biked down to Kahului and returned with scuba gear. Sam brought Tristan and Ness to the pools above the mouth of the stream to practice wading into the chilly water. The first time Ness went in, he had to remove himself from the water—he'd had some problem with his regulator—but he was able to get back in a few minutes later. Once they'd adapted to the regulator and the bulk of the tanks on their bodies, Sam took them out into the bay, where they had currents and swells to contend with as well. Finally, she had them practice planting C-4 on the coral.

Once they got out of the water, Ness turned a brick of it in his hand. "Is this stuff safe?"

"Not in the slightest," Sam said. "That's why we're employing it to destroy a sizable piece of infrastructure. If you're asking whether it can go off accidentally, it's completely inert without an explosive detonator."

"Good to know. Sebastian doesn't always know his own strength."

The afternoon before they were to leave, Tristan headed down the beach to see Papa Ohe'o. He met her with a smile and a glass of orange juice. "Should I wish you luck? Or is the nautical arena one of those where the wishing of good luck is thought to bring bad luck?"

"I was trained to sail by an Australian hermit. I'm lucky I know my aft from a hole in the ground." She sipped her orange juice but didn't sit down. "Any sign of the aliens?"

"One of our teams found tracks. Other side of the mountain, below the old winery. Do you know it? Charming place, someone ought to refurbish it some day." He waved a hand at himself. "Doesn't matter. My long-lost point is that the tracks led down to the water."

She could just make out the shape of the Big Island resting on the sea like a bank of blue clouds. "You should get in contact with the other islands. They can't be allowed to set up again."

He frowned. "I doubt if they
could
set up again. They must have been working on this place from the moment they arrived. But yes, you're right; before, we were complacent. They've left us alone this long, why should they hurt us now?" He laughed heartily. "Because what they're working on is a thousand times worse than walking down here and shooting us, that's why!"

"Keep them safe. That's all I ask."

"Well yes. We're not about to let you rush off to save the world only to return and discover they've turned our islands into an ant farm." He patted her shoulder. "Good luck, unless that's bad luck, in which case go get drowned."

In the morning, they shoved off as the sun peered over the horizon. Dissatisfied with Ness and Sebastian's work on the rigging, Tristan adjusted the lines. When she looked back, a score of people had assembled on the shore, waving towels and shirts. The engine puttered along smoothly, but the noise sounded wrong to her, a relic of another era. As they passed the Big Island, she gave it a small wave. By the afternoon, it was lost in the haze and they saw nothing but the sea.

The weather was good, as were the winds. Sprite spent most of the day in the cabin, tending to their course, clomping around on his new wooden leg, which Papa Ohe'o had carved from a sturdy koa branch. Sebastian passed the time in the rigging, watching the water. Sam set up a work space in the cabin to make adjustments to their scuba gear and some wire-sporting electronics that looked unsafe to be fiddling with on the pitch of the open ocean. Ness tracked their progress each noon. It had been years since Tristan had needed to navigate and she took the time to practice with him. The concentration it required helped usher away her thoughts of Alden.