Chapter Forty-Six
Annie Rourke hitched up her skirt as she clambered over the rocks, getting to her feet again, letting her skirt fall, straightening the webbed pistol belt at her right hip, the Detonics Scoremas-ter there in the military flap holster. She could see for miles from here. She had started coming here as a little girl and she had never stopped. She didn’t remember their home at the farm. Perhaps someday they would go back to where it had stood and something she would see would jog loose a memory—she hoped that it would. But the Retreat was the home she had grown up in, was the home in her heart. She dropped to her knees, gathering her skirt under her, leaning back, sitting finally, not taking her eyes off the mountains and the valleys between them. r She was cold as the wind picked up and she hugged her arms to her, huddling more in the quilted coat she had made.
She had never known the company of adults of her own sex—and she wondered if she and Paul came together, would they sometime, someday be drawn apart. She thought of her mother.
The Retreat was not Sarah Rourke’s home. It never would be. She hated it—that was obvious, Annie realized.
She thought of her father and her mother—and she was frightened. She had known nothing else—that Sarah Rourke and John Rourke were husband and wife and that it was forever for them.
Annie Rourke was very cold now. She closed her eyes and saw Paul Rubenstein’s face and couldn’t imagine feeling toward Paul what her mother now felt toward her father. But then for an instant she could imagine it—and she was afraid. She was very afraid and she sat there and stared out at the mountains again, wanting Paul Ruben-stein to say he loved her, to hold her.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The interior air lock door had not taken as long as the exterior door which had been covered with rock.
“I have it, John,” Natalia announced.
Rourke watched her for a moment, then stared at the dismantled locking device.
“They never intended their retreat to be unoccupied.”
“It was never made to be opened from the outside.” Rourke nodded to her. He looked at his son, Madison standing beside him. “You said this second holy book is some sort of diary.” “It looks like that—one of the videotapes had a diary featured in the story, and I read about diaries.”
Rourke nodded. “All right. So we get this second holy book and break the seal and read it.”
“That is forbidden—even to ones like your-selves,” Madison whispered. John Rourke put his hands on the girl’s shoulders, then smiled at her. “Michael tells me the Bible is very important to th£ people here—at least to some of you.”
“That is true.” Madison nodded somberly. “It is all that we read.” “Then isn’t it presumptuous for men—like the ones who head the Families—isn’t it presumptu-ous for men to add to it, to change it, with some secret book they won’t even read themselves but that supposedly gives them the authority to commit murder every time the population goes over some magic number, year in, year out, to create people like the ones you call Them, to create people who aren’t people anymore, at all?”
“But—“
“I look at the story of Adam and Eve rather differently than most people do. If their aim was to seek knowledge, I don’t see it as a sin. To play games with the devil—that’s wrong. But to want to know, to understand—knowing isn’t evil. It’s what you do with the knowledge. We’ll find that book—you think Natalia’s good on doors, wait ‘til you see her with a safe. We’ll read that book and then we’ll know what really happened here and how to help all the Madisons and all the other people here—or at least we’ll be better able to try. All right, sweetheart?”
“Yes/’ and she leaned her head against his chest. “Yes, Father Rourke.”
John Rourke just closed his eyes and hugged the girl for a moment.
“We’re ready,” Natalia said.
Rourke looked at her. “All right.”
“I’ll go first,” Paul announced.
He was already starting to open the doorway Michael covering him with Rourke’s CAR-15.
Then Michael passed through, Rourke hearing him call. “There’s no one waiting for us.”
“There may be a redoubt of some kind further ahead,” Rourke answered.
Madison passed through the doorway then.
Rourke stood alone beside Natalia. She touched at his hand. “If I were a young girl—you would make a fine father.”
Rourke looked at her, smiling. “Just because I let myself age another five years while you slept— well, don’t rub it in, huh?”
And he let Natalia pass through the doorway and he followed her close behind, a De tonics pistol in each hand.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“The last thing I ever expected to see again in my whole life was a golf course,” Paul Rubenstein murmured.
Rourke shrugged—after the indoor pool (Olym-pic sized) and the sauna and the racquetball courts, an indoor nine-hole golf course hardly surprised him. That it was only nine holes he found curious.
He stepped out onto the perfect green carpet, dropping to one knee—what he felt through the knee of his Levi’s, the touch of his fingertips confirmed. Synthetic grass. It had been called Astroturf before the Night of The War. “I have never seen this place,” Madison murmured, between Rourke and his son.
Rourke looked at her. “This place—the Place-it’s hermetically sealed at most times—at all times really because of the air lock. No dust, no dirt. No reason for maintenance. The pool is bone dry— likely hasn’t been filled for centuries. I bounced one of those racquetballs—the core is dead. It hasn’t been used for a long time.” v “A playground,” Michael murmured.
“The rich capitalist playground.” Natalia smiled. Rourke looked at her. “Yes—isn’t it,” and he reached up to the Alessi shoulder rig, returning the one Detonics pistol he still held, with his left hand closing the trigger guard snap that formed the speed break. “Let’s find that arsenal—then we’ll find their book. If they can’t use what they have, maybe we can. With that door having to be forced open, the hermetic seal is broken. If those cannibals have an ounce of brains among them they’ 11 feel the air circulating between the crack the door left and the wall—and they’ll pry it open and attack. What Michael told us about that one cannibal following him and Madison on a blood hunt—that may be typical behavior. And we killed a lot of them. Now be on the lookout for those guys in the business suits with the cattle prods. Madison—show us the way to the arsenal.” “Yes—where the guns are kept.”
“Yes—where the guns are kept.” She startet ahead, walking beside and slightly ahead of Michael, her right hand locked inside his left, Michael’s right fist balled around the CAR-15’s pistol grip, the Colt assault rifle’s stock collapsed, the scope covers removed.
Rourke felt a hand touch gently at his—he looked into Natalia’s eyes, his left hand closing over her right hand. “He looks so much like you— but he isn’t you,” and she leaned up quickly as she walked beside him, kissing him on the cheek. “I love you,” John Rourke told her, still holding her hand, walking on.