The Rift

CHAPTER 12

“As we always noted,” Burns said in the moment of silence that followed that surprising development, “the Fireflies aren’t very bright.”

“Sixty seconds until impact,” Mac called out, ignoring Burns, the exploded zombie, and everything else, his face pressed against the rubber seal of the laser designator.

“Now, now,” Burns said, holding his hands up, “let’s not be hasty.”

Neeley appeared behind Burns, keeping her submachine gun pointed at him and edging around, making sure she didn’t get in the line of fire of the team.

Moms’s earpiece crackled with information from Frasier. She shifted the aim of her gun from Burns to Ivar. “Why did you sabotage the Can?”

Burns stepped between Moms and Ivar, facing him. “Do you have it?”

Ivar pulled out the hard drive he’d stolen from the Archives and handed it to Burns.

“No way,” Moms said. “That dam is toast in forty-five seconds and so is the power for the Portal.”

“Abort your missiles,” Burns said. “It’s not what you think.” His face rippled and changed.

“Gant?” Neeley whispered, shaking her head, trying to get rid of the image.

“Whoa!” Scout was pointing. “You see that?”

Once more, the only person who followed her was Nada. She was pointing at a road sign announcing that the roadway on top of the dam was the Greer Bridge.

“My name,” Scout said.

“Very good,” Burns said, surprising everyone and addressing Scout’s apparently inane observation.

“Thirty seconds,” Mac said, still focused on the dam.

“That is not by chance,” Burns said, his eyes flickering with gold.

“All of this just to get me here?” Scout asked.

“All of us,” Burns said. “We need all of us. None of us are here by chance.” And then a golden flash from his eyes washed over everyone, and they all had a simultaneous moment of enlightenment, different for each one.

Scout thought of her name and her mother. “What if we’ve been wrong?”

“Twenty seconds,” Mac announced. But he suddenly saw the dam now as a work of progress, of man’s achievement, not to be destroyed, and pulled his eye away from the sight.

Electricity can be love, Neeley thought, and she lowered the muzzle of her MP5. “Who loves us?”

“Backwards,” Ivar said, remembering the lab. “It’s all backwards.”

“Who loves you?” Moms said, and she knew the answer: Her team loved her and she loved her team.

Nada reached up and felt the blue bulb in the ammo pouch on the outside of his gear, where there should be two magazines of bullets. Sometimes rules were made to be broken. “Abort, Moms.”

“Abort,” Moms said into the radio.