“You see, here? I need you to put your fingers on that artery and squeeze.”
Belgium kept one hand on Andy's forearm and stuck the other into the gash, doing what he was told.
Sun poured more water on the wound, then took hold of the pre-threaded half-moon needle.
“Don't worry,” she told Andy. “I'm gonna do this right. Just hold real still.”
Sun tied off the artery, greatly reducing the blood flow. She didn't have a clamp to hold the needle, so she did it freehand, her fingers slick with blood. Belgium had to let go of Andy's twitching forearm to dump more water on the wound.
Quickly, expertly, Sun sutured the ulnar artery back together. Her next job was the gash in the radial. It was on the underside and tough to see. “Hold him,” Sun said. She tied the artery off and then tugged on it lightly to get a better look.
“Jesus!” Andy cried.
“You're not getting religious on me, are you?” Sun said.
Sun sewed up the radial artery, then got to work on the severed antebrachial vein. Her concentration was pinpoint. She was tired, hurt all over, and emotionally frazzled, but she wouldn't allow it to get in the way of her job.
Not this time.
She finished, and then cut the thread she'd used to tie off the arteries. They filled with pumping blood. Sun poured on more water and looked for leaks.
None.
She smiled to herself.
“Get something to put under his feet,” Sun told Belgium.
Andy's blood pressure was still weak. She ripped open the IV pack and dug the needle into a vein on his good hand. Belgium came back with a chair and raised Andy's feet up onto the seat.
“I have to close him up, what's our time?”
Belgium glanced at Andy's watch.
“Four minutes.”
“Find Race, shut off the bomb.”
Belgium nodded, hurrying off.
Sun hung the saline bag on the end of the chair and began to stitch Andy's wrist closed.
“You'll make it,” she told him. “But I don't know if we will.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Race was dying.
It suited him just fine. Losing Helen was devastating. He'd spent years trying to become emotionally detached, and then for one brief, magic moment, she was his again, body and soul.
He realized, after more than four decades of marriage, that he'd made the wrong choice. Helen was more important than Samhain, more important than even his beloved Army. Race should have cherished his years with her, rather than wasted them here.
And now she was gone.
Bub's words had hit home. Helen surely must have hated him for keeping her here all that time. When she developed Huntington's, Race considered her his burden. But all along, he was her burden.
Race welcomed death. The thought of it warmed him. Never a religious man, the one in a million chance that there was an afterlife, and that Helen might be there waiting for him, far outweighed his desire for this world.
“Race?” A knock. “It's Frank Belgium. The door is locked. Are you in there?”
“Yeah, I'm here.”
The words took great effort. Race figured he'd lost more than two pints of blood.
“Can you let me in?”
“Code is 1-7-1-9-5-9.”
His wedding anniversary.
The lock disengaged and Dr. Belgium came into the room. He was just as bloody as Race, his lab coat more red than white.
“How did you get through Lockdown?”
“Air ducts.”
“Helen?” Race asked.
“She's at peace now. I'm sorry. Dr. Harker is dead too. Andy's badly hurt.”
“Bub?”
“Still locked in the Red Arm.”
Race sighed painfully. “For a hundred years of planning and safeguards, it all went to hell pretty fast.”
“The best laid plans often go astray,” the biologist said. “It’s not your fault.”
“Of course it’s my fault. Armies don’t lose wars. Leaders lose wars.”
“Race...” Belgium put a hand on his shoulder. “We want you to shut off the nuke.”
The General said nothing.
“We've known each other what, twenty years? You know why I came to Samhain, right?”
Race nodded.
“General, I let Bub out of the habitat. He went on the Internet. All of those questions he answered... it was all garbage garbage garbage. Stuff he picked up off the web.”
“Stupid thing to do.”
“I know. You think I would have learned after twenty years.”
Belgium eased himself into a sitting position, next to Race.
“Did you know I was married?”
Race gave his head a slight shake.
“I thought I loved her, but in reality I suppose didn't. All I ever loved was my work. Such a beautiful thing, genetics. So beautiful and perfect. Perfect perfect perfect.”
Belgium stared deeply into Race's eyes. “That's what life is all about, General. Loving something. Maybe a person, or a thing, but something. Like you loved Helen.”
The General's eyes became glassy.
“You've seen Andy and Sun together... Race, we're older, you and I. We've lived our lives. And we've had to live with our mistakes. Please. I can't let them die. Not because of me.”
“Doesn't matter,” Race said. “I switch off the nuke, the President will still destroy Samhain. It's a hardened target, two hundred feet underground, but he could get it done within two hours.”
“At least that gives us two more hours. You, above all people, should know how precious a few hours can be.”
Race knew.
“How about that?” Helen had said, zipping up her evening gown only hours before. “Still fits.”
“You know you're even more beautiful than the day I met you,” Race told her.
She smiled. It lit up the room. Race would have given her the world, right then, if she'd only asked.
“Oh, Regis. This is so perfect, being with you right now. I love you, my dear.”
“I love you too, Helen. Now let's cut up that rug, shall we?”
He could still smell her perfume on him, beneath all the blood.
“The panel,” Race told Belgium. “Turn the switch to the left, then punch in these numbers. Six, three, six, zero, niner.”
Belgium stood up and punched in the code. There was a beep, and the timer stopped with two minutes to spare.
“Is there another way out of Samhain?” Belgium asked.
Race coughed. A thin line of blood dripped down his chin.
“Maybe. Most of Samhain is made of natural caverns—this area is full of them. When they were building this compound, they came in through the underground from a few miles away. Then they sealed off the connecting tunnel when they were done.”
“Where is it?”
“Somewhere in the Green Arm. You need to bust through a wall, I don't know which one. You'll have to find the old blueprints. They should be in Red 3.”
“How about tools? Shovels, picks, axes?”
“In one of the Green rooms there's a bunch of old excavating equipment. And I mean old. Left here from when they built the compound. Maybe you can dig your way into the original access tunnel, if you can find it, and escape through the caverns before the President nukes the whole area.”
“Can you come with us?”
Race shook his head.
Dr. Belgium took Race's hand and grasped it firmly.
“Thank you, General. It was an honor serving under you.”
“Promise me something.” Race stared hard at Frank.
“Yes?”
“Whatever happens, see to it Bub doesn't live for another day.”
Dr. Belgium smiled warmly. “Consider it done done done.”
The General watched the biologist leave. He'd always liked Dr. Belgium. He liked Sun and Andy too, even though he barely knew them.
It was too bad. Even if they did break through to the caverns, it wasn't likely they could get far enough away in time. When the Samhain nuke didn't go off, the President wouldn't take any chances. He'd drop something substantially bigger than a single kiloton to guarantee zero chance of survival. There were strategic bomber bases in both Roswell and Amarillo. Race guessed he'd send an F-111E equipped with a B 83 bomb, capped by a nuclear warhead of at least twenty kilotons.