FROM ATOP FAIRBANKS’S tallest structure, the Polaris Building, Nick gazed out onto what was once his hometown. He’d never seen it from this high up before, not with his own eyes anyway. It was almost beautiful here with the afternoon sun’s warm glow reflecting off the Chena river and the motionless streets down below that appeared like miniatures, like the models he and Jimmy used to assemble when they were kids.
But he couldn’t enjoy the view, not fully. The siren, the incessant alarm, was a constant reminder of their peril and of the invisible ticking clock that counted down to a point of no return, a horror from which they wouldn’t be able to escape. However, all had gone according to plan so far.
Behind him was a mounted speaker, identical to the one he and Lusa had placed over the bridge. It hung on a large series of pipes that he thought might be exhaust vents.
He raised his less-than-lethal weapon, a tranquilizer gun, and looked through it’s low-powered scope toward the bridge. What he saw reminded him of the television broadcasts he’d seen of marathons in much larger cities: the bridge was covered with bodies, crazies all clamoring, climbing, clawing their ways toward the object of their ire, the siren.
Fortunately, they hadn’t gotten it down yet, their hatred clouding their ability to work out the solution he and Lusa had used to reach it. But that wouldn’t hold forever. Already, he could see some nutjobs climbing the bridge scaffolding and working their way precariously toward the siren.
The plan, as Vaughn had instructed them, was to get as many crazies from north and south of the Chena river to converge on a central location. It wouldn’t do to skip this first step at the bridge, because enraged crazies didn’t think through their transportation plans very well; they would simply dive into the river trying to get to the Polaris building or run pointlessly back and forth up the river like a stupid maze rat, unable to find a way through.
And it wouldn’t do to keep them all at the bridge either. For one, the bridge was a bottleneck; it choked off access to the central point. There were more crazies backed up on either side of the bridge than there were on the bridge itself. Second, the delivery Jimmy would be making by plane might not land securely on the bridge. If it dropped into the water by accident, the whole mission would be for naught. As convoluted as Vaughn’s plan seemed, Nick had been unable to simplify it without increasing their chances of failure.
“How’s it looking?” Nick asked over the headset.
“Well,” Lusa answered, “they’re really mad and…crazy.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I could have told you that much. Still safe and sound?”
There was a lull, and Nick imagined that Lusa was turning over in her mind their argument about her coming with him. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said simply. “But Jimmy’s signal is gone.”
Nick looked at his command display. He saw the relative position of his drones—it looked like he was right on top of them, and technically since they were down on the ground floor, he was. He zoomed out and saw Lusa’s beacon. Then he pulled back further, wide enough to see Eielson Air Force Base on the map. No Jimmy.
“He’s probably just up in the clouds,” Nick said. “Maybe his transceiver doesn’t reach from that height.”
As soon as he’d said it, he knew it didn’t make sense. But it had to be something like that; Jimmy had just reported in moments ago.
“I hope you’re right,” Lusa said.
“We can count on Jimmy,” Nick said, assuring himself as much as her. “Besides you, he’s the only one I can trust with my life.”
That was a lie, and Nick knew it. In fact, Jimmy was the only person he trusted. He cared for Lusa, trusted her intentions but not her ability to watch his back. Jimmy, on the other hand, had proven himself over and over. He wasn’t the same druggie type he had been when they’d first made their escape from Fairbanks.
“Okay. I’m coming down,” Nick said. “I’ll signal you to cut the siren when I reach the ground floor.”
There was no response, but there didn’t have to be. They’d talked this through repeatedly on their ride in, and they both knew the plan like the back of their hands. Nick glanced one more time toward Lusa’s position. He knew things were going well, but he couldn’t help but feel like he might not ever see her again.
He turned to the single door, the only way onto the top of the Polaris building and—other than jumping off the side—the only way off. The dark stairwell was the thing of nightmares, and Nick knew the imagery would stay with him for years to come. He breathed in deeply as if there weren’t fresh air inside. Then he opened the door and ran into the darkness. He flipped on the light attached to his tranq-gun just as the door behind him closed.
Down he went, floor by floor, what—if he’d counted correctly—must have been eleven stories. Each floor had its own obligatory door that led to what had once been Fairbanks’s finest hotel quarters. Now, they were just empty rooms, useless and decaying. The building had been condemned years ago, and Nick thought it was a fair metaphor for the thousands of crazies outside who were empty shells of their former selves.
Fairbanks wasn’t a big enough city to have skyscrapers, but a hundred-plus feet high seemed tall enough to Nick. As he reached the ground floor, Nick was glad he wouldn’t have to do any of that again. Last time down, he thought. Last time he’d have to put his own life in jeopardy. Last time Jimmy or Lusa would too. If today went according to plan, Vaughn would have his army of drones. He might want the three of them to continue helping him, but they wouldn’t have to be on the front lines. Not with the transmission relay system up and broadcasting. Not with the Deadhorse-to-Valdez meta-antenna that Vaughn promised would boost the signal far and wide.
Nick burst free of the dark stairwell and out onto the lobby. Delta Three was where he’d left them, patrolling the room, checking the windows and doors for threats.
“Okay, Lusa,” Nick said. “Cut the siren.”
He waited for several seconds, listening. The distant horn silenced. Then he heard Lusa say, “There. It’s done.”
Nick wanted to ask her what the crazies were doing now, if they were still clamoring toward the horn, turning on each other, or what. But he knew there wasn’t time for that. Not now.
He reached into the pocket of his tactical vest and pulled out his remote control, the one for his speaker. He mashed it. Nothing. He tried again. Still, nothing.
“My remote’s not working,” Nick said, half panicked.
“Are you too far away?” Lusa asked.
“I’m going up to see,” he said in a hurry as he ran to the stairwell.
“Last time saying last time,” he told himself as he ran up the stairs. At the landing of each new floor, Nick pushed the button and listened. It wasn’t until he’d reached the eighth floor, not until he’d nearly given up all hope that it would work at all, that he heard the loud scream of the siren open up and wail from above.
He bent over at the waist, hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. That was a close one, he thought, and the first real kink in their plans. He didn’t dare jinx himself by calling it the last.
He headed back down the stairs, at first slowly, but then increasingly faster as his mind caught up with the fact that crazies were undoubtedly headed his way. When he exited the stairwell onto the ground floor, he again bent down to catch his breath. But the sights and sounds before him robbed Nick of any relief.
Against the front door stood two of his drones, their backs turned, keeping it from being pushed in. Dull, relentless thuds punched against the boarded-up door and windows. Glass broke, one of the higher windows that wasn’t boarded up, and one of the drones quickly moved to the position and fired tranquilizer darts at the offending crazy.
Like the door and windows of the Polaris building, reality came crashing in on Nick. They’re already here, Nick realized. And he was too late.