“I’m not dead or gone,” Ivar said, but he was ignored, except by Scout.
“We have to stop him from getting the power he needs from the dam,” Doc said.
“I’ve always wanted to blow up a dam,” Mac said. It was the dream of every Special Forces engineer/demo man. Along with a bridge, a skyscraper, and various other engineering feats. The bigger it was built, the more a demo longed to blow it up.
“What are you going to use to blow that?” Moms asked. “Even the Excalibur rounds aren’t going to do much damage.”
“We need the cruise missiles,” Mac said. “Kirk’s got the laser designator. I can use it and aim a couple at the weakest points. I’ve done a target survey on a dam. I know where to hit it to cause maximum damage and structural failure.”
Moms nodded. “I’ll get them ready for launch.”
On board the B-52, the crew listened to Moms’s order. On one hand they were happy they weren’t prepping one of the nukes for launch. On the other hand, they weren’t thrilled with the idea of loosing even conventional warheads over the continental United States.
On the third hand, which was duty, they prepped four cruise missiles for launch.
Burns smiled at Neeley as she came into the powerhouse, steel door slamming shut behind her, his face rippling and then becoming Gant. “You survived. I had hope they might get to you in time at the nursing home.”
“Stop with the face,” Neeley said, weapon at the ready, laser site flickering on Burns’s forehead. “It doesn’t work.”
“Oh, I think it does,” Burns said.
“Why did you have hope that I would live when you were the one who killed me?”
Burns’s face flickered, the scars reappearing for a moment and then going back to being Gant’s. “I didn’t want to hurt you. But you understand. Mission takes priority.” He cocked his head. “Your friends are here. My former teammates. The illustrious Nightstalkers. Let’s meet them.”
“I don’t think so,” Neeley said, and she fired twice, double-tapping.
The Zodiac bumped up against the dock on the side of the powerhouse. Roland was first ashore, machine gun at the ready, with Nada at his shoulder. Scout and Kirk jumped off their Sea-Doos to join the rest of them.
Mac took the laser designator from Kirk. Ivar and Doc were arguing about the possible dangers of a Portal opening, akin to the band playing while the Titanic went down in Scout’s opinion, a little speck of calm in the midst of a team in turmoil. That didn’t last long as she looked toward the water in the reservoir.
“Uh, people,” she said as she watched the blotchy hand reach up out of the water and grab hold of the edge of the dock.
No one, of course, was paying attention to her.
Moms was on the radio, done talking to Ms. Jones and getting permission to blow the dam. The TVA would be pissed, but collateral damage would be minimal outside of the dam and some structures immediately downriver.
“Launch and ride the beam,” Moms ordered.
A cruise missile dropped clear from the pods on each wing of the B-52. The two missiles free fell for a few seconds, getting clear of the bomber; then their rockets kicked in and they nosed down, picking up speed.
The first round hit Burns in the chest (go for the largest target first, one of Gant’s rules) and the second in the forehead (go where there isn’t the possibility of body armor, the footnote to the aforementioned rule).
Burns didn’t even flinch.
Both bullets passed into him, not so much hitting as being absorbed. He smiled. “Come, come, Neeley. You’re out of your depth here. This isn’t a Sanction. This is a Nightstalker mission. I was one of them. Let’s go say hello to my old friends.”
He turned for the outside steel door of the powerhouse.
Behind him, the golden glow had grown larger, forming a stable pre-Rift.
“Guys,” Scout called out in a louder voice.
Nada heard her and turned, but the rest were caught up in their own concerns: Roland wanting to shoot something; Mac searching the dam wall for its weak spot through the laser designator since he had two warheads en route; Kirk facilitating Moms’s commo back to Ms. Jones and the launchers of the Tomahawks; Doc and Ivar moving closer to blows about the possibility of even a Rift without the algorithms, never mind a Portal.
“What?” Nada asked.
“Zombie,” Scout said, pointing.
At the same moment, the door to the powerhouse swung open and Burns stepped out, his face covered with scars.
Roland fired on instinct, a good, solid, twelve-round burst, every round hitting the former Nightstalker. And being absorbed.
As Roland fired, so did Nada.
In the other direction.
The former Jimmy DiSalvo had climbed out of the water and was staggering down the walkway to the dock in classic zombie style, arms outstretched, body bashed, bloody, and very dead. Nada’s bullets had more impact on him than Roland’s did on Burns. DiSalvo’s corpse staggered back, chunks of flesh flying off.
But he kept coming.
Until there was a flash of gold from Burns’s eyes. DiSalvo’s body exploded into vapor and the Firefly that had taken him over fluttered up and dissipated.
CHAPTER 12
“As we always noted,” Burns said in the moment of silence that followed that surprising development, “the Fireflies aren’t very bright.”
“Sixty seconds until impact,” Mac called out, ignoring Burns, the exploded zombie, and everything else, his face pressed against the rubber seal of the laser designator.
“Now, now,” Burns said, holding his hands up, “let’s not be hasty.”
Neeley appeared behind Burns, keeping her submachine gun pointed at him and edging around, making sure she didn’t get in the line of fire of the team.
Moms’s earpiece crackled with information from Frasier. She shifted the aim of her gun from Burns to Ivar. “Why did you sabotage the Can?”
Burns stepped between Moms and Ivar, facing him. “Do you have it?”
Ivar pulled out the hard drive he’d stolen from the Archives and handed it to Burns.
“No way,” Moms said. “That dam is toast in forty-five seconds and so is the power for the Portal.”
“Abort your missiles,” Burns said. “It’s not what you think.” His face rippled and changed.
“Gant?” Neeley whispered, shaking her head, trying to get rid of the image.
“Whoa!” Scout was pointing. “You see that?”
Once more, the only person who followed her was Nada. She was pointing at a road sign announcing that the roadway on top of the dam was the Greer Bridge.
“My name,” Scout said.
“Very good,” Burns said, surprising everyone and addressing Scout’s apparently inane observation.
“Thirty seconds,” Mac said, still focused on the dam.
“That is not by chance,” Burns said, his eyes flickering with gold.
“All of this just to get me here?” Scout asked.
“All of us,” Burns said. “We need all of us. None of us are here by chance.” And then a golden flash from his eyes washed over everyone, and they all had a simultaneous moment of enlightenment, different for each one.
Scout thought of her name and her mother. “What if we’ve been wrong?”
“Twenty seconds,” Mac announced. But he suddenly saw the dam now as a work of progress, of man’s achievement, not to be destroyed, and pulled his eye away from the sight.
Electricity can be love, Neeley thought, and she lowered the muzzle of her MP5. “Who loves us?”
“Backwards,” Ivar said, remembering the lab. “It’s all backwards.”