Kill Zone

34

When the sirens and warnings started blaring in the Velvet Hammer vault, Stanley van Dyckman was already well inside the chamber. He panicked, reacting instead of thinking.

He lurched deeper into the dimly lit vault, scrambling to get away. Just as he neared the far end, the ominous countdown stopped. He heard an explosion behind him, and gouts of fast-hardening polymer gel dumped all around him, engulfing the open space in less than a second, like a car airbag slamming into his back.

He instantly responded, throwing himself to the side. Back in the guard portal when Senator Pulaski had set off a lesser sticky foam defense, the man had nearly been smothered, and this was a thousand times worse! Van Dyckman dove sideways, sprawling headfirst. By sheer luck, he rolled into the last cubbyhole. He clambered on his knees to a sturdy pedestal that held a round-topped cylinder.

Sirens and alarms hammered the vault, becoming muffled by the explosively expanding foam. Screaming, he scrambled on top of the storage pedestal to get away before the sticky foam enveloped him.

His outstretched hands grabbed at the metal cylinder that was almost as tall as he was. His arms could barely wrap around it. He hauled himself higher, like a man trying to climb above a raging flood as swelling foam expanded to fill the vault. Wrapping his arms around the warm cylinder, he hung on and watched as the mountain of foam froze into place as a hard, pocked meringue. Sealing him in.

He waited, holding his breath. The foam creaked and cracked as it stiffened, plugging the chamber and the vault opening, but it did not advance further. The lights in the chamber glowed weirdly through the translucent obstruction. He was trapped, but he was still alive. He took two quick breaths to reassure himself.

Somewhere near the front of the vault, the bitch Victoria was completely buried under an avalanche of hardened sticky foam, like a concrete straitjacket.

The realization that she was dead sent strange feelings through him. They’d had good times, and good sex, but there weren’t all that many instances to remember, and she had always been concerned with her own career, her own needs, instead of his. Just like now. This was all her fault. Her Velvet Hammer SAP had put them all at risk. Nuclear devices should never have been in his Mountain, and because of them Hydra Mountain’s worst countermeasures had tried to kill them all.

Sealed in the cocoon of hardened sticky foam, he listened to the oppressive silence. Were the others still alive outside the vault? Adonia, Colonel Whalen, and Dr. Garibaldi had been out of reach of the sticky foam. But, unable to take refuge in the protected vault, as planned, maybe they had already succumbed to the halothane in the open grotto.

The gas! With the door blocked open, the knockout gas could still penetrate here. Van Dyckman sniffed, afraid he’d fall unconscious in here and be suffocated even more slowly, but the volatile, starchy odors of the foam drowned out any trace of the halothane scent. Would he be safe? Maybe the blockage would cut off enough of it.

It would take hours before any rescue could possibly come, and he needed to wait it out someplace. Here in the Velvet Hammer vault, he had light, he had air. It wasn’t Club Med, but he even felt comfortable, almost hot compared to what he’d been in the chilly main grotto.…

He gasped as he realized why he felt so warm.

He frantically released his grip around the metal cylinder, the thermonuclear weapon.

The warhead was physically warm, and he was trapped right next to it, crowded into the alcove. He looked around the claustrophobic granite vault. A wall of hard red foam covered the rock floor and rose up nearly to the ceiling like a mountain of discolored snow left by an out-of-control plow.

He was buried alive inside the storage vault with dozens of nuclear bombs, and he knew that if they were generating heat, they were also generating radiation. His skin crawled as he imagined the invisible particles shooting all around him, being absorbed into his body. If an old-fashioned Geiger counter hung on the wall, it would have been clicking and crackling like crazy.

He tried to worm his way around the warhead, but the impenetrable foam blocked his way like a petrified cumulus cloud. He was trapped.

Again seeking someone to blame, he cursed Victoria. What had she been thinking to hide all these illicit nuclear devices here? Her program had to be illegal! At least he had been trying to solve a crucial problem and help the nation. Thanks to him and his close connection to the President, Hydra Mountain had been reopened and put to good use. This facility was ideal for storing enormous amounts of nuclear waste… but active warheads in a secret back room changed the equation entirely! Well, she had died for it.

He had to get out of here.

Moving carefully in the small amount of space available, van Dyckman squeezed down behind the platform and stepped onto the uneven mass of hardened foam piled around the cubbyhole. The substance held under his weight, although it felt uncertain, slippery.

He worked his way around the warhead in its protected alcove and tried to crawl up the wall of hard foam. It was like climbing a gritty, crusty old snowdrift. A piece of the material broke off in his fingers as he tried to get a handhold. The sticky foam had little substance, and if he had a jackhammer, a pickax — even a spoon! — he could chop away at the starchy barricade.

He pounded and clawed at the foam, and little by little he managed to smash away a few chunks. He needed some kind of tool to dig his way out. As he worked with greater desperation, he felt something hard in his pants pocket. Keys? Maybe he could use those—

He found the box cutter he had pocketed from the guard portal, after he’d freed Senator Pulaski from that sticky foam. Sharp and hard; it would work!

He extended the blade and stabbed the hardened foam like a serial killer. Another jagged block broke off, opening a gap, and his hopes soared. Breathing heavily, van Dyckman started chopping away, piece by piece.