Diablo Mesa(89)

And then all was quiet, save for the crackle of smoldering weeds from a little ground fire triggered by the shower of sparks. The dead wires dangled, spitting ineffectually. Lime’s smoking remains were stuck against the fence, now sagging inward, the concertina wire partially melted and falling away to one side.

For a moment, no one moved. Corrie stared in horrified fascination.

“Hey!” Skip said, breaking the spell. “The circuit’s broken—we can get in. Quick!”

He scampered up and over the dead body, which, effectively glued to the sagging fence, bounced up and down like a spring under the impact of his feet. Skip eased aside the melted concertina wire, then ducked under and past. “Hurry up! They’ll be here any minute!”

Corrie snatched up her gun from where it had fallen and then rushed across the improvised bridge—which had begun to smell like an overdone porterhouse—and under the fence. Watts followed suit.

“Into the ruins!” said Skip.

They sprinted into some sort of dormitory, with skeletons of cots arrayed in ghostly rows. They took cover in a small annex in the back, with a broken window facing northward.

“Jesus,” said Watts, “did you two rehearse that martial arts move, or what?”

“Dumb luck,” said Corrie. She turned to Skip. “Why did he call you Elwyn?”

“Forget it.”

They waited, recovering their breath. Seconds afterward, Corrie heard a low vibration. Peering through the window, they saw a rectangular shape rise from the side of—in fact, apparently out of—a nondescript hill.

“You see that?” Skip whispered. “It’s a door. Embedded in the side of the hill.”

Lights appeared in the portal, and then a jeep, then a second, emerged at high speed, headlights lancing through the darkness. They raced over the desert, heading toward the fence, where Lime’s body was hung up amid the weedy ground fire.

The jeeps screeched to a halt while Corrie and the rest kept in the shadows of the ruined building. “Oh, Jesus,” said a man in uniform as he leapt out, voice clear in the cool night air. The others all piled out, weapons in hand.

“The fucker tried to climb over,” another voice said.

“What the hell was he doing out here?”

“Maybe from that crashed chopper?”

They clustered around the scorched corpse.

“See if he’s got ID.”

Corrie watched as they busied themselves with the body, prying it off the fence and shining the light in the face.

“Good God!” the commander cried. “It’s Lime!”

“What the hell was he doing, trying to climb that fence?”

“Idiot.”

“Stick a fork in him, he’s done.”

There was a burst of talk and radio chatter as they discussed what to do. Within minutes, they loaded the body into the back of one jeep, restrung the live wires, fixed the fence, and drove back to the portal in the hill, which then closed slowly and silently behind them.

All went quiet.

“It looks like we’re in the clear,” said Corrie. “What now?”

It was Skip who answered. “We go get my sister.”





59



THE FACT THAT neither she nor Watts moved in response to Skip’s statement drove home to Corrie that they had no plan. They were three people, up against some kind of military base.

“We can’t defeat them all—can we agree on that?” Watts said.

“I’m not leaving without Nora,” said Skip defiantly.

“Look,” said Corrie, “for God’s sake, think through the choices we’re facing here. We can’t stay where we are, we can’t walk out to get help, and we’ve got neither truck nor radio equipment. Ergo, Skip’s right. We go in.”

“And do what?” Watts asked.

“Evaluate our options. We don’t know what’s down there: how many people, how well guarded. But down there is where we’ve got to go. Then we figure out a plan.”

“In other words, out of the frying pan and into the fire,” said Watts. “Maybe that guy Lime was right about you, Skip. It’s suicide.”

“It’s the only option,” Corrie said firmly. “We’re just wasting time talking about it. Let’s check our ammo.” She took out Lime’s Glock 19 and ejected the magazine. “Fifteen.” She racked the slide.

“I’ve got four,” said Watts.

“It’s obvious that whatever’s here is underground,” Skip said. “There have to be air vents or openings somewhere.”

They cautiously moved out of the barracks into the landscape. Corrie hand-signaled for them to spread out. There was no moon, but the desert air was so clear that starlight gave them just enough illumination to see. Beyond the barracks were more ruins and a parade ground of concrete riddled with cracks, resembling a field of rubble. They kept to the darkest areas. It felt so desolate it was hard to believe there was anyone within miles, let alone a secret base under their feet.

“Over here,” Skip suddenly said in a low voice.

Corrie and Watts came over to find Skip standing next to an old corrugated shaft sunk into the ground, covered with a corroded grille of wire mesh.

“Smell that air coming up.”