Aurora(59)

“Jesus Christ!” Thom shouted. “What the fuck are they doing?!”

“Get down!” Ann-Sophie shouted. “Get away from there!”

Thom whirled on her, genuinely scared this time, but even angrier than he was frightened. “Get the kids and get to the bunker, right now. I’ll handle this.”

He turned and went to the door, stepping into a pair of boots. Ann-Sophie shouted after him, but he didn’t answer, just headed outside. His behavior seemed to her the height of lunacy, a complete repudiation of all the drills and tiresome conversations they’d had over the years, but there wasn’t time to think about it. She ran into the master bedroom, grabbed the nearest clothes she could find, and slipped into them as she stumbled toward the kids’ rooms.



Ten minutes later, the A-level residents assembled in the common area on subterranean level four. The place had been modeled on a ski lounge, with two virtual fireplaces, half a dozen comfortable leather sofas, a pool table, a reading corner, and a small kitchen with chunky wooden tables and chairs. The big LED screens placed around the walls like windows had been tuned to alpine vistas, which at this hour meant snowy mountaintops lit by a full moon. There were a dozen people clustered around the room, looking frightened and sleepy. Thom arrived last, having regained his cool, and all heads turned toward him. Chloe was there, bleary and frightened, sitting alone, as well as the Friedmans, Dr. Rahman, and the others, whose names Thom couldn’t call to mind immediately. But they all had the desired expression of deep concern on their faces, and he perceived in the room a powerful desire to be led. He was happy to oblige.

“We’re fine,” he told them. “We’re all fine. We were attacked, not sure by who yet, still looking into that, but security was able to repel the assault with no casualties on our side.”

Dr. Rahman, who looked more annoyed than anything, spoke first. “Who the hell was it?”

“Who knows?” Thom said. “We might never be certain. Someone who wanted food and water, probably.”

“Food and water?” Marques asked. As the pilot and standby driver, he qualified as A-level. Why exactly Beth and Kearie, who were decidedly not A-level, had come up here with him was a matter Thom intended to get into later.

“I would imagine,” Thom answered him. “What else could it be?”

“What are we—four days into this?” Marques asked.

“Five,” Thom replied.

“OK, five. Who attacks an armed installation after five days, looking for food and water?”

“If I was hungry and thirsty, I would,” Thom snapped. He turned back to the others, eager to get off this line of questioning from his increasingly insubordinate pilot. “To the matter at hand—is anyone hurt?”

No one was. No one had been above ground.

“Good. All right. Clearly, the situation has deteriorated out in the world, even more rapidly than we assumed it would. I think we need to move things to a more secure footing here. I’d like to propose—”

He stopped, noticing Ann-Sophie was staring at him. Her eyes were slightly narrowed, the way they were when she knew he was up to something but couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was. It was the look she’d given him during the week or so before she’d decided to pay an unscheduled visit to one of his personal training sessions.

Thom forced himself to turn his head away from her. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking, but they had just been attacked, no one could possibly argue with that, and now steps would have to be taken.

Before he could enumerate them, the door to the lounge buzzed and ex-major Jimmy came through. He was sweaty, breathing heavily, and in full battle fatigues. He wore a Kevlar vest and a Ka-Bar knife, and the acrid smell of his recently fired AR-15 practically preceded him into the room. “We all intact down here?” he asked.

There were murmurs of assent and even a few “yes, sirs,” people automatically slipping into deference to physical authority. Chloe sat up, moving to one side, making a space beside her, in case Jimmy wanted to sit down. But Jimmy was on duty and stood ramrod-straight.

“Can you illuminate the terrain for us, Jimmy?” Thom asked. He’d managed to get over the rage that had erupted from him five minutes earlier, when he’d come out of the main house ranting and waving his arms, furious with Jimmy for the stray shots that had nearly shattered his living room windows and killed him.

Jimmy had calmed him down after a minute or two—that’s three-inch Lexan up there, boss, and you said you wanted physical evidence, didn’t you?—but for Thom the matter was not settled. He would revisit Jimmy’s recklessness later.

“The situation is contained,” Jimmy assured the group, “and the assailants have fled. Our lookout in the sniper post watched them retreat through his night vision and reports we wounded two of them.”

That was a nice touch, Thom had to admit, a little visual detail to sell the overall picture. Jimmy was a natural.

“Thank you, Jimmy. I’m sure we’re all grateful for your efforts, and those of your team.” Jimmy nodded and went to Chloe. He bent over, muttering to her and putting a hand on her cheek. Great, Thom thought. So that was a thing. He couldn’t think of why it bothered him, exactly, except that it did. Maybe just because it was more disruption, more unplanned connections and complications. He tried to put it out of his mind and continued to the group.