Pulse

THIRTY- TWO

"Rook to King. Come in King."

Dressed in fatigues, now covered by a black wet suit, King walked across the Mercury's cabin, heading for the radio. He and Karn had taken the Mercury around the island and dropped anchor just outside what Karn claimed was a submarine dock. To King it looked like every other slab of rock descending into the ocean, but the old man insisted they'd blasted out a hole big enough for only one thing he could think of: a sub. King picked up the radio. "Go ahead, Rook."

"Things are going to hell fast, King. We've got a mass exodus taking place from the back side of the compound. Looks like scientists and some security. They're skipping town."

Shit, King thought. How did they know we were here?

"It gets worse," Rook said. "Bishop is M.I.A. He should have checked in a half hour ago."

"What about Queen?" King asked.

"She's still inside. Haven't seen any sign of— What?"

King heard Knight talking quickly in the background. The signal cut out for a moment, then Rook returned. "King, we're counting fifteen… eighteen people exiting the front of the compound, heading for the main gates and… holy… King, these people, they're like the capybara. Regens. If they get to town…"

King closed his eyes and shook his head. He knew the people had no control of themselves, that they were, in fact, innocents. But letting them live meant the deaths of hundreds more. "Take them out. Protect the town. I'm going in."

King dropped the radio and exited the cabin. He walked to the back of the boat where Karn waited.

"What's got your panties in a bind?" Karn asked.

King held a small, handheld oxygen tank with a regulator attached to his mouth, taking a test breath. The small tank would give him five minutes underwater. "Take the Mercury back to the dock. Use anything you find on board to protect the town. I've got some friends that will lend a hand. And see if you can raise the USS Grant. Tell them to keep that plane on the ground, but under no circumstances shoot it down."

Karn stared at him, wide-eyed for a moment and then gave a quick salute. He immediately began pulling up the anchor. He turned around to ask a question but King had already entered the water. His swim fins slid beneath the waves as he descended into the depths.

With the anchor up, Karn sat himself in the captain's chair, turned the key, and smiled as the dual engines roared to life. He slammed the throttles forward, launching the yacht forward as though it were a speed boat. "Calvary's coming!"

He picked up the boat's CB as the Mercurypounded over the waves. "USS Grant. This is the yacht Mercury. Please respond. Over."

No response. "Damnit, Grant. I know you're out there! Pick up the line or so help me, I'll sink you myself."

A cold voice came back from the CB, "This is the USS Grant. Who the hell am I talking to? Over."

"Gunnery Sergeant Jon Karn, U.S. Marine Corps," he said, then added, under his breath, "Retired. Over."

"Say again. Did you say retired? Over."

A large wave nearly threw him from the chair. He gripped the steering wheel hard with one hand and raised the CB to his lips with the other. "There isn't time for bullshit! I'm working with a fella. Goes by the name King. He needs some help."

Karn waited for a response as he turned the Mercurytoward the lights of Edinburgh. This time the silence lasted fifteen seconds. He was about to speak again when a new voice came on the line. "This is Captain Steve Savile of the USS Grant. What do you need?"

He laughed as the Mercurypounded through another large wave, casting a spray of seawater over the deck, plastering Karn's gangly hair and beard against his head and chest. I'll be damned, he thought. For a moment it felt good to be back in the thick of things. Then he saw muzzle flashes from the mountainside, like distant fireworks and the rising of panicked voices from Edinburgh.

He opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden series of rapid-fire explosions pounded the air. Rising toward the sky were thousands upon thousands of large tracer rounds. He knew the rounds, designed to be seen, showed the path of even more rounds hidden by the night sky. In all his time in the service he'd never seen such a condensed and massive amount of shells being fired. It seemed impossible. He took note of their southwestern trajectory. The only thing there was Inaccessible Island… unless something was behind it.

He crushed down the button on the CB. "Savile! Move your ass! You have incoming!"

He listened for a response, but only heard the distant sound of explosions.