Fallout

CHAPTER 43

“The point of no return,” Mike Waterloo said, his voice hollow and frightened. “Victory for the Eagle’s Claw, and a restoration of American ideals.” He refused to look at the warhead in the back of the land rover, as if by ignoring it he could forget about his second thoughts.

With the timer on the nuclear warhead ticking down, he clutched his hands in front of him, looked over at Paige, then glanced away.

Paige had watched Mike work as distant helicopters flew high overhead, circling. They must be hunting for us. But the search teams didn’t know the land rovers had already penetrated Dreamland security and were hidden in the dry gully. The bright morning sunlight would already be foiling infrared search equipment, and Mike’s stolen IFF had circumvented Groom Lake’s other electronic surveillance.

Mike turned uncertainly toward his murderous secretary. Paige thought he was going to change his mind about the warhead, but instead he said, “Let’s get out of here, Sally. All three of us can fit in the other rover and head overland. I’m the only one who can stop the detonation now. We have to move if we’re going to avoid the worst of the fallout.”

The numbers ticked down, like fading heartbeats.

“You’re wrong, Mike,” Sally said, reaching inside her loose flannel shirt to withdraw a small handgun. “This method is more definite.”

With sharp cracks like splintering wood, Sally fired three times into Mike Waterloo’s chest, driving him back against the driver’s door of the first land rover. His head slammed against the window.

Paige screamed and leaped for him. Sally backed off, watching bemused.

As Paige held him, Uncle Mike’s mouth opened and closed in utter astonishment, touching his chest, seeing the blood, watching it run out of him as he slid to the ground. His sad eyes grew round and wide with dismay. Paige grabbed his sleeve, but could do nothing to help.

“Three times should be enough,” Sally said, her voice cold as she looked down at the handgun. “Even with a small caliber.”

Paige knelt beside Uncle Mike in the wet dirt, grabbing his shoulder. His final breath rattled in his throat, foaming with blood. His eyes glazed over and became vacant. The rain began to fall harder.

She hoped for him to form words, to say his goodbyes, to say some sort of farewell with his dying breath… but Sally had targeted accurately, twice through the sternum and once through a lung. Mike Waterloo was dead as soon as he slumped to the ground.

In utter shock, with his blood warm and wet on her hands, Paige could not stanch the flow of memories in front of her mind: visions of Uncle Mike teaching her how to hold a fishing rod, showing her how to use a protractor and compass to draw perfect circles and geometric shapes. She recalled Uncle Mike and her father sitting out on the porch in Livermore, chatting about the nuclear test program, about their work at the Lab, discussing politics and the Vietnam war.

It had been no more than conversation then, shooting the breeze. But somewhere along the way it had turned into a deadly paranoia, a warped perception that had finally led to Uncle Mike setting this nuclear warhead… and to his death.

Paige stared at the blood on her fingers as the memories continued to sharpen. She wondered if this might be the supposed phenomenon of her life flashing before her eyes. Sally was sure to pull the trigger on her any second now.

But instead, the secretary brought the handgun down, wiping rain away from her face. “Good old Mike. He said he was willing to die for the cause,” she said with a glacial smile. “Freedom doesn’t come cheap.”

“But he promised he wouldn’t disarm the bomb,” Paige said, wanting to claw the woman’s eyes out. “You were supposed to run away together.”

“That was the original plan,” Sally said, “but the result is the same, and now he can’t ever finger me by getting caught. I got rid of Jorgenson for the same reason. Now I leave a clean field behind me. Besides, Mike wouldn’t have been worth a damn as a hostage — and you certainly are.” She gestured to the second land rover. “If the military or anybody gives us trouble, I can use you as a bargaining chip. Get in, and we’ll high-tail it out of here. Put enough distance between us and ground zero.”

“Why should I bother?” Paige said, crossing her arms over her chest. She had no other way of resisting. “You’ll kill me as soon as you get clear.”

Sally shrugged. “Depends on how it all turns out. Would you rather die now or in an hour or two? Your choice.”

Wiping her hands on her jeans, Paige left Uncle Mike’s vehicle and shuffled toward the other land rover. She glanced once more at the gaunt man’s body, but saw nothing there. The Mike Waterloo she had known and loved had died long ago.

Surprisingly strong, Sally Montry lifted Mike’s body and hoisted him into the front seat of the first land rover, then she closed and locked all the doors as a final precaution to keep the warhead inaccessible before she hurried over to where Paige stood at the passenger side door.

“Don’t make me waste time in pointless threats. You know I’ll shoot you, and you know I don’t have much patience. Get in!”

Behind them, in the back compartment of the other vehicle, the nuclear device continued its countdown.

“Every second brings us closer to the big mushroom cloud,” Sally said, “and we’re both going to have to haul ass to get beyond the lethal radius in time. As it is, the rain will make overland travel more difficult.”

Seething, yet totally helpless, Paige climbed reluctantly inside the land rover. She couldn’t think of a way to fight back. Yet.

That was when they heard the helicopter approaching.